XIV.
_AUNT PATTY._
But Maggie and Bessie, especially the former, were quite determined notto be consoled. They thought such a terrible disappointment deserved tobe sorrowed over for some time to come, and sat with tearful faces anda very mournful manner, quite unable to do anything but grieve.
"I hope I shall have strength to bear it, but I don't know," saidMaggie, with her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes.
Mamma told her that the way to bear a trial was not to sit frettingover it and thinking how bad it was, but to look at its bright side,and see what good we or others might gain from it.
"But _this_ has no bright side; has it, mamma?" asked Bessie.
"I think so," replied her mother. "This unknown friend has done muchmore for the policeman and his family than you could have done, and shehas not only given the money for Dr. Dawson, but has, also, paid thedebt to Dr. Schwitz; while your uncle is kind enough to allow you tokeep your money for some one else who may need it."
"But, mamma," said Maggie, with her eyes still covered, "Uncle Ruthvenwas going to pay the debt himself; papa told us so. So it would havebeen just as good for the policeman."
"I declare," said Mr. Stanton, "I had quite forgotten that I wasdisappointed too! Well, well;" and he leaned his head on his hand,and put on a very doleful air. "Bradford," he continued, in the mostmournful tones, "since we are not to go over to the policeman's thisafternoon, I had thought we might have some other little frolic; but ofcourse, none of us are in spirits for the visit to the menagerie I hadintended to propose."
At this, Maggie's handkerchief came down, and Bessie raised her headfrom her mother's shoulder.
"I do not know but I might go, if I could make up a pleasant, happyparty to take with me," said Mr. Stanton. "_You_ could not think of it,I suppose, Maggie?"
"I don't know," said Maggie, half unwilling to be so soon comforted,and yet too much pleased at the thought of this unexpected treat to beable to refuse it. "Perhaps I might. I think maybe it would do me goodto see the animals." But she still sat with the air of a little martyr,hoping that Uncle Ruthven would press her very much, so that she mightnot seem to yield too easily.
"I thought perhaps it might bring _me_ a little comfort to see themonkeys eat peanuts, and then make faces at me, while they pelted mewith the shells," said Mr. Stanton, in the same despairing tone.
At this Bessie broke into a little low laugh, and the dimples showedthemselves at the corners of Maggie's mouth, though she pursed up herlips, and drew down her eyebrows in her determination not to smile. Butit was all useless, and in two moments more Uncle Ruthven had them bothas merry as crickets over this new pleasure. Mamma and Aunt Bessie werecoaxed to give up their shopping and go with them, and the three boys,Harry, Fred, and Franky, being added to the party, they all set off ingood spirits.
The blind boy and the terrible disappointment were not forgotten, butthe children had made up their minds to take mamma's advice,--bear itbravely, and look on the bright side.
Aunt Patty saw them go, and was glad to be left to herself, althoughher own thoughts were not very pleasant company. She had done a kindand generous action in an ungracious way, causing those whom she hadbenefited to feel that they would rather have received the favor fromanother hand, bringing a real trial upon these dear children, andvexation and regret to herself. She could not look upon her work orits consequences with any satisfaction. What though she had done a gooddeed, she had not done it quite in the right spirit, and so it seemedit had not brought a blessing. Self-will and temper had been sufferedto overcome her once more. Bessie had shamed her by the self-controlwhich she, an old woman, had not shown, and she had been outdone byboth these little ones in patience and submission. The policeman'sfamily would have been quite as well off as they were now, and shemight still have had the long-desired grove, the object of so manythoughts and wishes, had she never taken up the matter, or had she evenallowed her intentions to be known. She had really had an honest desireto keep her generous self-sacrifice a secret, that it should not bepublished abroad to all the world; but there was, also, an obstinatelittle corner in her heart which made her determine to keep it from hernephew, lest he should oppose it. "For I want none of his advice orinterference," she said, to herself; it being generally the case thatthose who deal most largely in those articles themselves are the mostunwilling to receive them from others.
So the poor old lady sadly thought, taking shame and repentance toherself for all the peevishness and ill-temper of the last two days,seeing where she had acted wrongly and unwisely, and making newresolutions for the future. Ah, the old besetting sin, strengthenedby long habit and indulgence, what a tyrant it had become, and howhard she had to struggle with it, how often was she overcome! Yes,well might little Bessie be thankful that wise and tender teachers hadtaught her to control that passionate temper, which later might haveproved such a misery to herself and her friends. Then came back to herthe dear child's trusting words, "Jesus knows," bringing with them acomforting sense of his near love and presence, and a feeling thathis help and forgiveness were still open to her, though she had againso sadly given way. Oh, that she had little Bessie's simple faith!that this feeling of the Saviour's nearness, this constant looking tohim for help and guidance, which were shown by this little one, werehers also! She bethought herself of a hymn, which she had heard Mrs.Bradford teaching to her children during the last week, and which theyhad all sung together on Sunday evening. She could not recollect theexact words, but it seemed to her that it was the very thing she needednow. She searched for it through all the hymn-books and tune-books onwhich she could lay her hands, but in vain; and, as was Aunt Patty'sway, the more she could not find it, the more she seemed to want it.Should she ask the children for it when they came home? To do so, wouldbe the same as confessing that she had done wrong, and that was thehardest thing in the world for the proud old lady to do. But yes, shewould do it! Nay, more, she would no longer be outdone by a littlechild in generosity and humility. She would tell the children that shewas sorry for her unkindness of the morning.
It did Aunt Patty no harm, but a great deal of good, that longafternoon's musing in the silent house, where no patter of children'sfeet, nor any sound of young voices was heard; for baby had gone to hergrandmamma, so that even her soft coo and joyous crow were missing forsome hours.
Meanwhile the children were enjoying themselves amazingly; for a visitto the menagerie with Uncle Ruthven, who knew so much of the wildbeasts and their habits, and who told of them in such an interestingway, was no common treat. The day had been as April-like within aswithout, clouds and sunshine by turns, ending at last in settledbrightness; and no one who had seen the happy faces of our Maggie andBessie would have thought that they could have worn such woeful looksbut a few hours since.
After reaching home, they were passing through the upper hall on theirway down to the parlor, where they had left papa and Uncle Ruthven,when Aunt Patty's door opened, and she called them. They stood stilland hesitated.
"Come in," said Mrs. Lawrence again, in a gentle tone; "Aunt Pattywants to speak to you."
Maggie and Bessie obeyed, but slowly and unwillingly, as the old ladygrieved to see, the former with drooping head and downcast eyes, whileBessie peeped shyly up at her aunt from under her eyelashes.
"Aunt Patty was cross, and vexed you this morning," said Mrs. Lawrence;"but she is sorry now. Come, kiss her and be friends."
In a moment Bessie's rosebud of a mouth was put up for the desiredkiss, but Maggie still held back. It was not that she was unforgiving,but this meekness from Aunt Patty was something so new, and so contraryto all the ideas she had formed of her, that she did not know how tobelieve in it, or to understand it.
"Kiss her," whispered Bessie; "it is not 'bearing her burden' if youdon't."
So Maggie's face was lifted also, and as her aunt bent down and kissedher, she was astonished to see how gentle and kind, although sad, shelooked. The "corners" were all out of sight
just now, and Maggie evenbegan to feel sorry that she had wished Aunt Patty to be "a pillar ofsalt which might be soaked away in the rain."
Mrs. Lawrence asked them if they had enjoyed themselves, and put aquestion or two about the menagerie in a pleasant, gentle tone, whichshowed that her ill-temper was all gone. Then there was a moment'ssilence, the children wishing, yet not exactly knowing how, to runaway; at the end of which, Mrs. Lawrence said, in rather an embarrassedvoice, as if she were half ashamed of what she was doing, "Bessie,where did you find that little hymn, 'Listen, oh, listen, our Fatherall holy'?"
"Oh, it is in our dear little 'Chapel Gems,'" said the child. "Is itnot pretty, Aunt Patty? Mamma found it, and I asked her to teach it tous, 'cause it was so sweet to say when any of us had been naughty. Whenwe sing it, I think it's just like a little prayer in music."
"Can you find the book for me?" asked the old lady.
"Mamma lent it to Mrs. Rush. She wanted to have the music, so we mighthave it for one of our Sunday-school hymns. I'll ask mamma to let youhave it as soon as Aunt May sends it back."
"It is of no consequence," said Mrs. Lawrence, in a tone in whichBessie fancied there was some disappointment. "Do not let me keep youif you want to go."
Both children turned toward the door, but before they reached it,Bessie lingered, also detaining Maggie, who held her hand.
"Aunt Patty," she said, sweetly, "I think it is of consequence if youwant it. And--and--I know 'Our Father all holy.' If you would like, Ican say it to you."
"Come, then, darling," answered the old lady, and standing at her kneewith Aunt Patty's hand resting on her curls, Bessie repeated, slowlyand correctly, this beautiful hymn:--
"Listen, oh, listen, our Father all holy! Humble and sorrowful, owning my sin, Hear me confess, in my penitence lowly, How in my weakness temptation came in.
"Pity me now, for, my Father, no sorrow Ever can be like the pain that I know; When I remember that all through to-morrow, Missing the light of thy love, I may go.
"For thy forgiveness, the gift I am seeking, Nothing, oh, nothing, I offer to thee! Thou to my sinful and sad spirit speaking, Giving forgiveness, giv'st all things to me.
"Keep me, my Father, oh, keep me from falling! I had not sinned, had I felt thou wert nigh; Speak, when the voice of the tempter is calling So that temptation before thee may fly.
"Thoughts of my sin much more humble shall make me, For thy forgiveness I'll love thee the more; So keep me humble until thou shall take me Where sin and sorrow forever are o'er."[A]
"'I had not sinned, had I felt thou wert nigh,'" she said again, aftershe was through with the last line. "I wish we could always rememberour Father is nigh; don't you, Aunt Patty? We know it, but sometimes weforget it a little, and then the naughtiness comes, and so we grievehim. But is not that a sweet hymn to say when we are sorry for our sin,and want him to help and forgive us again? I felt it was yesterday whenI had been angry and spoken so naughty to you."
"Oh, child, child!" was all the answer Mrs. Lawrence gave. Her hearthad been softened before, now it was quite melted, and putting her armabout Bessie, she drew her to her and kissed her on both cheeks; whileMaggie stood by wondering as she heard the tremor of Aunt Patty's voiceand saw something very like a tear in her eye.
"Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, Thou hast perfected praise,"murmured the old lady to herself, when the door had closed behind thechildren. "Lord, make me even like unto this little child, granting mesuch faith, such grace, such patience, such an earnest desire to do thywill, to live only to thy glory."
Yes, such were the lessons learned even by an old woman like Aunt Pattyfrom this little lamb of Jesus, this little follower of her blessedLord and Master. "Even a child is known by his doings."
"Who is for a summer among the mountains?" asked Mr. Bradford as thefamily sat around the table after dinner.
"I am, and I, and I!" came from a chorus of young voices, for frompapa's look it was plainly to be seen that the question was addressedto the children, and that the grown people had had their say before.Even baby, who was learning to imitate everything, made a sound whichmight be interpreted into an "I;" but one little voice was silent.
"And has my Bessie nothing to say?" asked papa.
"Is the sea at the mountains, papa?" said Bessie, answering hisquestion by another.
"No, dear," said her father, smiling, "but among the mountains to whichwe think of going, there is a very beautiful lake, on the border ofwhich stands the house in which we shall stay."
"I am very fond of the sea, papa," answered Bessie, "and I think Iwould prefer to go to Quam Beach again,--I mean if the others liked ittoo."
"I do not doubt we should all enjoy ourselves at Quam," said Mr.Bradford, "for we spent a very pleasant summer there last year. Butgrandmamma does not think the sea-side good for Aunt Annie's throat,and wishes to take her up among the mountains. The colonel's doctor hasalso advised him to go there, so we shall not have the same delightfulparty we had last summer if we go to Quam. About four miles from theold homestead, and higher up in the Chalecoo Mountains, is this verylovely lake set deep among the rocks and woods. Here lives a man namedPorter,--you remember him, Aunt Patty?"
"Certainly," answered Mrs. Lawrence, "he has been adding to andrefitting his house, with the intention of taking boarders, I believe.Do you think of going there?"
"Yes. I remember even in former days it was an airy, comfortable oldplace, and with the improvements which I hear Porter has made, I thinkit will just suit our party. What do you say, Bessie? Would you notlike to go there with all the dear friends, rather than to Quam withoutthem?"
"Oh, yes," said Bessie; "I like my people better than I do the sea; butthen I do wish there was just a little bit of sea there, papa."
Papa smiled at Bessie's regret for the grand old ocean, which she lovedso dearly; but as he told her of the many new pleasures she might findamong the mountains, she began to think they might prove almost asdelightful as those of the last summer at Quam Beach.
So the plan was talked over with pleasure by all. Papa and UncleRuthven were to start the next morning to go up to the lake, see thehouse, and, if it suited, to make all the necessary arrangements. Theparty was a large one to be accommodated,--grandmamma and Aunt Annie,Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie, Colonel and Mrs. Rush, and Mr. and Mrs.Bradford with all their family; and as soon as it was found to bedoubtful if this could be done, all the children, even Bessie, were ina flutter of anxiety lest they should be disappointed. This was of nouse, however, for the matter could not be decided till papa and UncleRuthven returned.
"I have a little private business with Maggie and Bessie," said papa,as they rose from the table. "Young ladies, may I request the honor ofyour company in my room for a few moments?"
Wondering what could be coming now, but sure from papa's face that itwas something very pleasant, the little girls went skipping and dancingbefore him to the library, where, sitting down, papa lifted Bessie tohis knee, and Maggie upon the arm of the chair, holding her there withhis arm about her waist.
When they were all settled, Mr. Bradford said, "Uncle Ruthven and Ihave a plan which we thought might please you, but if you do not likeit, you are to say so."
"Papa," said Maggie, "if it's any plan about that money, I think we'llhave to consider it a little first. You see it seems to us as if it wasvery much Willie's money, and we will have to be a little accustomed tothink it must do good to some one else."
This was said with a very grave, businesslike air, which sat ratherdrolly upon our merry, careless Maggie, and her father smiled.
"I shall tell you," he said, "and then you may have the next two days,till Uncle Ruthven and I come back, to consider it. Dr. Dawson thinksit necessary for Willie Richards to have change of air as soon as heis able to travel. Of course his mother must go with him, to take careof him; and, indeed, it is needful for the poor woman herself to havemounta
in air. I have thought that we might find some quiet farmhouseat or near Chalecoo, where Willie and his mother could go for two orthree months at a small cost; but I do not believe it is possible forthe policeman to afford even this, without very great discomfort andeven suffering to himself and his family. Now, how would you like touse the money Uncle Ruthven gave you to pay the board of Willie and hismother, and so still spend it for his good and comfort? As I said, youmay take two days to think over this plan, and if it does not suit you,you can say so."
Ah! this was quite unnecessary, as papa probably knew. _This_ needed noconsideration. Why, it was almost as good as paying Dr. Dawson,--ratherbetter, Maggie thought.
But Bessie could not quite agree to this last. "I am very satisfied,papa," she said, "but then it would have been so nice to think ourmoney helped to make blind Willie see his mother's face."
"Maggie, have you forgiven that old woman yet?" asked Fred, when hisfather and little sisters had joined the rest of the family in theother room.
"Oh, yes!" said Maggie. "I think she is lovely! She has made things agreat deal better for us, though she did not know it, and blind Willieis to go to the country. But you are not to talk about it, Fred, for heis not to be told till it is all fixed, and papa has found the place;and we are to pay the board, and I'm so sorry I said bad things abouther, even if she was only the messenger, and some one sent her."
"Hallo!" said Fred, "anything more?"
"I am so full of gladness, I don't know what to do with it," saidMaggie, who very often found herself in this state; "but I am so verytired I can't hop much to-night."
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Title decoration, chap. 15]