CHAPTER XVIII.
A FAMILY PARTY.
What a blessing it is to be possessed of a happy and cheerfuldisposition!
And who so likely to have such blessing as those who not only _say_ 'OurFather which art in Heaven,' but believing what they say, 'try to walkwith Him in love, as dear children.' Such persons diffuse cheerfulnessall around them; while on the contrary, those who are selfish andpassionate, sow the seeds of trouble and discontent broadcast aroundthem. And pride--oh, that hateful sin--what have children to do withpride? Helpless and dependent as they are on parents or friends, whathave they to be proud of? Nothing!
Look at that curly-headed little boy, Freddy Ellis, who would bebeautiful were it not for the disdainful curl on his upper lip, and theindignant expression in his eye when he has received some supposedaffront. Listen to the passionate vehemence of his words when he isrefused some indulgence which he has been teasing his mamma to granthim, though it would surely try your patience, as it has done mine, tohear the stamping and screaming that is going on just outside theparlour-door; and yet, for all this, Freddy receives no punishment. Ohno! 'It would break his spirit.' What absurd reasoning!
Do we inquire from whom is this spirit, which has more of the _serpent_than the _dove_? The answer will be, 'It is _not_ from the meek andlowly Saviour!'
Oh parents, whoever you be, take care lest you foster the serpent thatwill diffuse its subtle poison over the cherished blossoms which youare, or _ought to be_, training for heaven, and leave a sting which maypierce your own hearts. One thing we may be sure of, that the faultswhich we, through negligence or weak indulgence, leave unchecked in ourchildren in early life, a wiser though severer hand than ours will usethe rod of correction to eradicate. And can this really be _love_, thatputs off the proper time of chastisement, knowing that it is likely tobe doubled on that account? Alas, no!
But I must crave pardon for sermonising, and return to the sick chamber,for Mabel's papa and mamma have come to pay their promised visit. Poorgirl, she is so thin and pale that papa, who has only seen her twiceduring her illness, is quite shocked, and sitting down beside thearm-chair, declares that he can scarcely believe she is his once plump,rosy girl. Mamma has seen her often, and has shed many a tear over hersuffering child; but still it was a comfort to her to know that Mabelwas in such good hands. Sister Julia is also here, looking verysorrowful; but Aunt Mary says:
'Now I am not going to permit anybody who draws a long face to remain inmy nursery; so those who look as if they were preparing to cry, insteadof to smile, must please take a walk in the garden, till they haverecovered themselves. What say you, Freddy, to this?' inquired Aunt Maryof her little nephew, who stood looking on, not knowing seeminglywhether he was expected to smile or to cry, though on hearing his aunt'scheery address, he came to the conclusion that it was not necessary forhim to commence the disagreeable alternative, although it must beconfessed he was a ready practitioner in yelling bouts.
'I should like to go into the garden, aunt,' responded Freddy. 'I wantto see Clara's hens and chickens; may I go now?'
'No, not just now, dear,' replied his aunt; 'your cousin will go withyou presently; she is engaged just at present, so you will have towait.'
This waiting, however, did not at all suit the impatient spirit ofMaster Fred, and on Aunt Mary's going out of the room he gave expressionto his vexation.
'Why can't I go into the garden by myself, I wonder?' he exclaimedpassionately to his mamma, by whose chair he was standing. 'Aunt needn'tthink that I should hurt the fowls; it is very unkind of her.'
All this was said in a subdued tone, that papa, who was talking withMabel, might not hear.
'Hush, hush, Freddy!' said his mother; 'your Aunt Mary is never unkind:you should not say such things of her.'
'But _I_ think she is very unkind,' repeated the boy emphatically, as ifwhat he said must settle the point; but it only drew the attention ofhis papa, who inquired what the vehement talking was about, andthreatened severe punishment if any of Fred's tempers were exhibited atOak Villa.
'Don't check the poor child so harshly,' said unwise mamma; 'he onlywants his aunt to let him go and see the fowls. And really I think shemight let him go, for he could do no harm.'
Mr. Ellis had a strong inclination to reply to this ill-advised speech,but he looked at the pale face beside him, and prudently forbore anyfurther remark.
A nicely spread tea-table, on which there were plenty of cakes, smootheddown the ruffled temper of the spoilt boy; yet he did not forget whathad all along been uppermost in his mind, namely, that he was to go andsee the chickens as soon as tea was over. Had Mr. Ellis not been afraidof creating a disturbance at Oak Villa, he would certainly haveprevented Fred's going into the garden, after his display of temper inhis sister's room. He, however, made no opposition when the impatientboy, having despatched his tea and cake, made the announcement to hiscousin Clara, that he was ready to go with her to see the fowls; and shegood-naturedly rose from the table to attend him--not, however, withoutasking her aunt's leave.
Freddy of course was delighted with all he saw, though he said hethought the chickens were very large ones, and inquired after those hehad seen a month ago, being very difficult to be persuaded that those hewas now looking at were really the very identical chickens.
Like his sister Mabel, Freddy wanted to nurse one of the chickens; nordid he ask if he might do so, but while Clara went for the corn heopened the wire door and boldly thrust his hand in: only, however, toreceive, as she had done, a severe peck from the hen, which sent himstamping and screaming up and down, no doubt to the great astonishmentof the cock and hens, and the immediate disarrangement of the familyparty, who all rushed out to know what was the matter. It certainly wasa severe peck that the old hen had given, and a very great fright thatthe household had been put into by the screams and the roaring of thecowardly boy, which continued as he clung to his mamma's dress, until heaccidentally caught sight of his papa, and then the storm ceased as ifby magic; and so much of sham had there been in the affair, that thetempest calmed down without leaving trace of sob or tear.
Mr. Ellis saw that his presence had been effectual, so he only said afew words to the young rebel, but he cast a half-sorrowful, half-angryglance at his wife; and Aunt Mary could not help whispering, 'Ada, whattroubles you are making for yourself!'