Over by a little dormer window in the garret, they found the pile of
books, and Mrs. Knight left them to make their examination by the fast
waning light of the afternoon.
One by one, Mabel and Harold laid the books aside, after peeping inside
the covers. They divided the lot, and each took a certain number to
examine.
Mabel was about half way down the heap upon which she was at work,
when, suddenly, she gave a little cry of joy: “Oh, Harold; here it is!
It is, it is! Look; do look!”
[Illustration: “O, HAROLD, HERE IT IS!”]
Harold dropped the musty volume he had just picked up, and came over
to where Mabel was, hardly willing to believe that she was right in
making such an announcement.
“Well, I’ll be switched if it isn’t!” he said, after looking it over
carefully.
“Oh, do let us hurry down with it to Mrs. Knight! Oh, Harold, do you
suppose she will sell it to me?” Mabel said, eagerly.
“Of course, I think she will,” Harold answered from the stairs, down
which he was going post-haste.
Mabel followed, holding tightly to the book, and they quite startled
not only the old lady, but her cat, who was sitting in her lap.
Bobby fled under the sofa, with tail twice its usual size, as the
children burst into the room, crying: “We’ve found it, we’ve found it!”
“Softly, my dears; softly. You have scared poor Bobby, who is so
nervous after his late troubles; I think he is afraid his enemies are
upon him again.”
“Poor Bobby,” said Mabel, gently, pausing in the centre of the room.
“We wouldn’t hurt you for the world. See, Mrs. Knight; we did find the
book. Will you sell it to me; I have five dollars to buy it with?”
“Five dollars? The whole lot wouldn’t bring that!” exclaimed Mrs.
Knight.
“Oh, but it would,” returned Mabel, honestly; “for one of those books
sold a day or two ago for fifteen.”
“Does thee really mean it? Well, my cat is worth more than that to me;
so, take the book, and be welcome to it.”
Mabel could hardly believe her ears. “Oh,” she exclaimed; “do you
really mean to give it to me?”
“I would scarce tell thee to take it, unless I meant it; and, in
my opinion, it is very little to give. I cannot see why thee should
consider it of any value.”
“But,” went on honest Mabel, “we know it is worth a great deal, for the
man who bought the one we saw, said he wouldn’t take fifty dollars for
it.”
“And I would not take a hundred dollars for my cat. Besides, I am an
old woman, with neither kit nor kin, and when I die, what I have will
go to charity; so, if the book is of any use to thee, take it, child;
it is a very small thing to me in return for what thee has done.”
Mabel’s radiant face expressed her thanks, without her words. “Now, we
must go,” she said, after she had repeated her words of appreciation,
again and again. “Oh, see how dark it is getting. Mamma will be
dreadfully worried, I’m afraid.”
“Then I’ll not keep thee a moment,” Mrs. Knight said. “Come again, if
thee cares to visit an old, lame woman and her cat. I shall be glad to
see you both at any time, and if there is anything I can do for either
of you, it will give me pleasure to do it.”
They promised to come again, and made their farewells, then set out for
the cars.
“Just think,” said Mabel, as they turned the corner, “if we hadn’t
stopped to help Mrs. Knight to find her cat, we might never have been
able to get the book.”
“That’s what they call ‘bread upon the waters,’” returned Harold,
sagely.
Mabel was a little puzzled, until Harold explained what it meant.
“Oh, I suppose it is about the same as ‘one good turn deserves
another,’” she decided.
“Dear me, how long the cars are coming,” said Harold. “Your mamma will
think we are lost, and won’t believe I am taking very good care of you.”
They reached home at last, but not before Mrs. Ford had, indeed, begun
to feel much worried at their long absence. But she did not scold,
after she had heard their joyous voices at her door, and learned what
had detained them.
Mabel concluded her story with: “So, you see, we couldn’t help it. Was
it very wrong to stay, mamma?”
“Perhaps not; although it has given me an anxious hour. Still, it is
worth that much to see my little girl relieved of her anxiety, and to
know that she has well earned her right to be trusted again. And also,
that she has proven, beyond question, that she is honest and faithful.
Papa will be so very glad, dear.”
“May I go to him right away? Is he in the library?” Mabel asked.
“Yes, he is there; and you may go right away.”
Mabel turned, a little doubtfully, to where Harold had stood a moment
before; but he had taken in the situation, and had left the room. “Oh,
Harold isn’t here,” said the little girl. “Mamma, ought I to ask him to
go with me to papa?”
“You would rather not?”
“Don’t you think I ought to, when he helped me so much about getting
the book?”
“Not necessarily; and I think he has gone off on purpose, for I am sure
he understands how you feel. If he comes back, I’ll tell him that you
intended to ask him. Now, run along, dearie.”
It had been many weeks since Mabel had crossed the threshold of the
library, and her father looked up in surprise, as he saw her at the
door.
“Mamma said I might come,” she began eagerly, “and oh, papa, I have the
book; here it is.”
“The book? What book?” He took the package mechanically, while Mabel
stood on tip-toe with her hands tightly clasped, and her eyes fixed on
his face.
As Mr. Ford’s gaze rested on the old book with its dull covers, his
surprise was evident. “Why, Mabel,” he exclaimed, “where did you get
this? It is even an older edition than mine, and in quite as good, if
not better condition than mine was originally. Tell me about it, little
daughter.” And he drew her kindly to his knee.
Then Mabel poured forth her tale, beginning with her resolve to make
good, if possible, the mischief she had done. “For you know, papa,”
she concluded by saying, “you always have told me that one ought never
to be in debt, and so-- Are you pleased, papa? Do you trust me again?”
He kissed her and drew her closer. “Indeed I do, dear child,” he
answered.
“And I may come into the library again?”
“Just as before.”
Mabel gave a little satisfied sigh. It was so good to have all
restrictions taken away.
“Now I must go to work again, daughter,” said her father. “Thank you
very much for getting me the book; and, yes, I think I shall have to
give you the other one. Keep it on your shelves, and perhaps it will
remind you of two or three things.”
“What?”
“Can you guess?”
“One is, not to meddle with what isn’t mine.”
“Yes, that is one.”
“And the other--I can’t guess, papa.”
“That ‘a wrong confessed is half redressed’, and that your father has
very great respect for the honor and justice, and self-sacrifice his
little daughter has shown.”
Then Mabel left him, and trudged upstairs feeling very happy. On
her way down again her mother met her. “Mrs. Lewis was here this
afternoon,” she said, “and she said we must all come to the lawn party.
She told me there seemed to be some coolness between Marie and you, but
she hoped that nothing serious was the matter.”
“Oh, mamma, do you think Marie has said anything about me to her
mother?”
“Perhaps, but if she has, Mrs. Lewis does not seem to attach much
importance to it. If mammas were to take seriously all the little
fusses their children get into, I am afraid they would have a hard time
of it.”
Mabel stood patting the baluster softly. She was thinking very soberly.
Presently she looked up, “Mamma, do you mind if I give the five dollars
to the Cuban orphans?” she asked.
“I have not the slightest objection.”
“Won’t the girls be surprised?”
“Do you want them to be?”
“Why, yes, I think so. They were very mean to me, to be sure, and we
have scarcely spoken for weeks. Would you go to the lawn party if you
were I, mamma? I don’t think you know how hateful they were,” and then
she told her story.
“They were very unjust, I admit,” her mother told her, “but I think
they will be very much ashamed of themselves when they see you willing
to help them so generously. Yes, I think you and Alice and Harold
should all go, even if the girls have been unkind. It will not be a
social affair, remember, and if the cause is good the rest does not
matter.”
“But about the money, mamma; I was going to ask you to send it for me.”
“Wouldn’t you rather spend it at the lawn party? You might give a part
of it to the fund, but you’ll be doing just the same if you buy things
from the girls, and, besides, it will be pleasant for them to feel that
they have such a good customer. What was the reason you thought you
would not spend it there?”
“Because--because--I didn’t want to show off,” Mabel answered, shyly.
Mrs. Ford put her arm around the child. “I think you have already
sacrificed enough, dear,” she said. “No one doubts that you have the
right feeling. Never mind what the girls think, but go and enjoy
yourself. I promised Mrs. Lewis that I would send a contribution
of biscuits and salad, and several of the neighbors have promised
me something. So I shall probably send you and Harold off foraging
to-morrow; at least, I’ll let you collect some of the articles for me.”
“Mamma, Mrs. Knight has such beautiful flowers; I wonder if she
wouldn’t give us some? She said she would be glad to do anything she
could for us, because we helped her to get Bobby.”
Mrs. Ford considered for a moment. “If you want to go and ask her, I
see no harm in it, but you’d better wait till Friday morning, so the
flowers will be fresh, if you get any.”
Therefore, Mrs. Knight received a second visit from the children, as
she was busy making some of her famous cinnamon-bun, on Friday morning.
Mabel explained their errand and met with a hearty response.
“Give you some flowers? To be sure, I will, gladly; and you can have
every one in the garden, if you want them.”
“Oh, we couldn’t carry every one,” said Harold, in all seriousness.
Mrs. Knight laughed. “Thee is literal enough for a Friend,” she said.
“Then I will not give thee all my flowers, but how would thee like
a loaf of my bun? I’ll warrant they’ll not have any like it at thy
friend’s party, Mabel. But I give it to thee, and thee must donate it
in thy name.”
“Oh, would that be fair?” asked the little girl.
“Does thee think a Friend would tell thee to do a thing unfair? Then if
thy compunctions are even more tender than mine I will give it to thee
to do with as thee chooses.”
“But, can you spare it, Mrs. Knight?”
“I can make more when I want it,” she returned. “I always keep it on
hand, for I am fond of it myself, thee sees.”
Therefore, with their hands and arms laden, they returned to the
city, and the exclamations of appreciation which met them when their
donations were handed in, warmed their hearts mightily, and made
Mabel, at least, feel much more that she was a welcome guest.
Still, Marie and Ethel had not yet greeted her, and she rather
anxiously waited to find out how they would act when they saw her
there.