II.
_HOW BELLE DID IT._
"WHY, Belle! Is that you?"
"Why, yes, Mamie! Is that you?"
These very unnecessary questions were put by the two little schoolmatesas they stood facing one another within the saloon of the drawing-roomcar attached to the train which was on its way to Boston.
There certainly could be no doubt in the mind of either that the onewas Belle and the other Mamie; and the above exclamations were only dueto the surprise felt by each one at the sight of the other.
"Yes, it is I," was Mamie's answer. "Where are you going, Belle?" shequestioned in the next breath.
"To Netasquet," replied Belle; "and Lily Norris is there now."
"Why, I am going there too!" exclaimed Mamie, in a delighted voice;"all of us are,--papa and mamma, and all the boys, and Lulu and me. Howvery fortunate, Belle, that so many of us are going there together!Won't we have nice times?"
"Um--m, well, maybe so. Maggie and Bessie are not going there," saidBelle in a tone which told that she thought all pleasure questionablein which her last-named two little friends did not share.
"They've gone to Newport, haven't they?" said Mamie.
"Yes, their papa has bought a house there, and now they'll go thereevery summer. Papa and I are going to make them a good long visit byand by; but first we have to go to Netasquet."
Belle said this with a sigh, as if even the prospect of the "good longvisit" could scarcely console her for the present separation fromMaggie and Bessie.
"Who are you with?" was Mamie's next question.
"Papa and Daphne and Uncle and Aunt Walton," answered Belle.
"Oh! and Ma--bel?" said Mamie, following the direction of Belle's eye,and seeing the head of her little cousin, Mabel Walton, peeping outfrom the door of a compartment at the end of the car.
"Yes. You don't seem very rejoiced about Mabel," said Belle, whohad noticed the tone in which Mamie uttered the last words,--a toneexpressive of any thing but pleasure.
"An' no wonder," muttered old Daphne, Belle's nurse, who stood behindher young mistress; but Mamie, thinking it as well to change thesubject of conversation, only said,--
"Don't you want to see my little sister Lulu, Belle?"
"Yes," answered Belle with alacrity, and would have followed Mamie atonce to that part of the saloon where her friends were seated, ifDaphne had not interfered, saying,--
"You just come back to your pa, honey. De hosses done pullin' us now,and dey're gwine for put to de injine, and dere'll be a screechin' an'a shakin' an' a jerkin' fit to knock de bref out of yer. 'Sides, I'vefoun' out it's best to stick close to yer pa when we're trabellin'roun'. Come to lose sight of him, 'taint easy sayin' what'll become ofus."
And with a fearful recollection of having been "gone off with" by thecars on one occasion, when she had been separated from her papa, Bellerushed back to the compartment of her own party, and, in dread of sucha catastrophe occurring again, clung to him till the train was speedingon its way. Then she felt safe; neither she nor papa could leave thecars while they were rushing on at this rate.
But after some time, just as she was beginning to tire of lookingout of the window, and watching the rapidly changing scene without,Mamie's face showed itself at the open door of the compartment; andhaving nodded in her own free and easy way to the party in general, shesaid to Belle's papa,--
"Mr. Powers, couldn't Belle come with me to see our Lulu?"
Mr. Powers consented, finding that his little daughter wished to go,and Belle, slipping from his knee, took Mamie's outstretched hand,looking back, however, at her Cousin Mabel.
"Mabel can come too if she likes," said Mamie; but Mabel, feeling thatthere was a want of cordiality in the invitation, plumply and poutinglyrefused it; upon which Mamie looked rather relieved.
Mabel and Mamie were never the best of friends; each one calledthe other "a horrid child," "selfish," "hateful," and other suchuncomplimentary names; not always in one another's hearing, it is true;but Mamie knew pretty well what Mabel thought of her; and Mabel, on herside, felt that Mamie regarded her with no friendly eye.
Some little readers may know the reason why; others may wish to ask it.
It was this:--
_Both_ were spoiled, selfish children, allowed to do pretty much asthey pleased, and each one so accustomed to having her own way thatthey were almost sure to clash and quarrel when they were throwntogether. Out of school, that is; in school Miss Ashton's authority andthe peace-making efforts of their little classmates kept matters prettysmooth; but in their play-time, or when they met one another elsewhere,there was apt to be some falling out which each always declared to beentirely the fault of the other. Mabel, a quiet child, to whom wordsdid not come easily, would generally relieve her feelings by "makingfaces" at Mamie, in which ugly practice she had become quite an adept;but Mamie had a sharp little tongue of her own, and put no check uponit if she chose to say biting or taunting things to Mabel.
So now you will understand the reason of Mamie's dissatisfied "oh! andMa--bel?" when she heard of whom Belle's party was composed. ProbablyMabel was not much more pleased when her cousin told her whom she hadmet without in the saloon.
But Belle, who was at peace with Mamie, and who was extremely fondof babies and very little children, was only too glad to accept thelatter's invitation, and go with her to play with her little sister.
Lulu, a bright, cunning child nearly three years old, soon made friendswith Belle, and graciously received all the petting and coaxing thatwere lavished upon her.
But, pet and darling though she was, and though Mamie seemed both proudand fond of her, Belle could not but perceive that Mamie domineeredover the little one, and sometimes needlessly contradicted or crossedher. Sometimes Lulu would take such things quietly; at others she wouldresist or fret, thereby making a disturbance, and annoying those abouther.
Belle noticed all this, though she made no remark; but Mamie did notfail to perceive that she looked at her once or twice with wonderingdisapproval, when some petty act of tyranny or selfishness showeditself towards the little sister.
And once, although Belle meant no reproof, Mamie felt reproached andashamed.
For Mrs. Stone had given to each of the three children a cake. Mamie'sand Belle's were alike, being the only two of the kind that the stockon hand afforded. Lulu's was quite as good if she could have thoughtso; but it did not strike her in that light, and she clamored for "atate lite Mamie's."
"There are no more, my darling. Change with her; will you not, Mamie?"said her mother.
But no; Mamie, too, fancied her own cake the best, and she flatlyrefused to exchange with her sister, who sat upon papa's knee, holdingthe despised cake at arm's length, and regarding it with a comicalexpression of displeasure. Lulu put up a grieved lip at this, andwould probably have burst into a loud cry, for there is no denyingthat she, too, was somewhat over-petted and spoiled; but Belle steppedforward and put her own cake in the baby's hand, taking the rejecteddainty in exchange.
"That is a kind, unselfish little girl," said Mr. Stone; "but are yousure you like that cake quite as well, my dear?"
"I can eat this one quite as well, sir," answered Belle, too truthfulto say that she did really like the one as well as the other, and thenadded, "Lulu is so little, sir, I s'pose it makes more difference toher than to me."
She did not look at Mamie, nor did her manner seem to throw any blameon her; but the latter did feel thoroughly ashamed to think thata stranger should yield that which she had refused to give up forthe sister over whom, at times, she made so much ado; and she ateher cake with very little real enjoyment. At first, too, she feltrather provoked with Belle for being more unselfish than herself;but presently that feeling passed away, and she looked at her withadmiration, as she thought, "She is better than I, a great deal better."
For spoiled though she was, and at times extremely perverse, fretful,and selfish, there was much that was good in Mamie Stone; and one ofher best qualit
ies was that she was always quick to see and acknowledgewhat was worthy of praise in others, and she was also honest withherself, and ready to confess her faults.
But then the trouble was that she was too often satisfied with allowingthat she had been wrong, and took little or no pains to correctherself, and to strive against such naughtiness for the future.
Of late, however, Mamie had felt the wish to be a better and moreamiable child; and she would often please herself with imagining howshe would grow less selfish and exacting, more willing to give up herown will to that of others, more obedient and respectful to her parentsand elders.
But when the time arrived for these good resolutions to be put inpractice they always seemed to fail her; temptation came in her way,some small trifle crossed her, and she saw herself, her own wilful,pettish, perhaps disobedient little self, not one whit improved by allthose good resolutions and delightful dreams of the wonderfully goodchild she had intended to become.
Still she did honestly wish to do better; but she did not seem to knowthe right way to set about this; perhaps she had not a good motive;perhaps it was from the desire to have people say what a good girl shehad become; how much she had improved; to receive such praise as sheoften heard bestowed upon some of her young companions,--Belle forinstance.
"A kind, unselfish little girl," her father had called Belle; and Mamiewould have been very much pleased to hear papa say that to her; but henever did,--and why? Because she never deserved it. Mamie felt that,although it did vex her that it was so. And she would really like todeserve it, she thought.
"But I never can remember in time," she said to herself. "I wonder howBelle does it. People used to say she was spoiled when she first cameto this country, and knew Maggie and Bessie and all of us, and went toMiss Ashton's school; and now every one says she is so good and sweet;and so she is too. And she has a right not to be so good as me, too,I s'pose, 'cause she has no mother, and her father and old Daphne dospoil her dreadfully, every one knows that."
If "spoiling" meant indulgence, Belle certainly had her share of that;but, only child and motherless though she was, it was not the weak andfoolish yielding to every whim and temper which had nearly been theruin of poor Mamie's mind and character, and which were fast doingtheir own ill work even with little Lulu's sweeter and more dociledisposition.
"I'm going to ask Belle how she does it," Mamie said again to herself;and saying this recalled to her mind that she had made the sameresolve on the day of the fair; but until now she had never had theopportunity to carry it out.
Now, ever since that time, Mamie had not ceased to plume herself onher good behavior on the occasion, and her mamma had bestowed upon herpraise enough to turn half a dozen little heads.
So, her mind full of this, Mamie began the conversation in this manner.
"Weren't we good that day, Belle?"
"What day?" asked Belle, surprised, as she had reason to be, at thissudden reference to a matter she had well-nigh forgotten.
"Why, _that_ day; the fair day," answered Mamie; "were we not good?"
"Oh, yes," said Belle, still rather surprised; "every one was verygood; and we made such a lot of money for Jessie and her grandfather.It was all very nice."
"But _us_, _we_, you and I, I mean," persisted Mamie. "Were we not goodabout the doll?"
"Well, yes, I s'pose so," said Belle, her great black eyes fixedwonderingly on Mamie. "But I don't know if we were any better than allthe rest, and I think maybe I was not so good; for I was real provoked,at first, that I could not have it, and it was very hard work for menot to cry. But, do you know, Mamie, I think now I am glad Mrs. Howardhad it, and gave it to Nellie Ransom, 'cause Nellie does not have somany toys and pretty things as most of us children in the school, andshe was so very pleased to have it."
"Um--well, I don't know about that," said Mamie, reflectively. "Mammasays I behaved beautifully about that doll, and the next morning shetook me to Bruner's, and let me choose the prettiest one that wasthere; but it wasn't so lovely as _that_ one; but I don't think I'msuch a mountain of goodness as to be so very glad Nellie had it insteadof me. I'd 'most as lief _you_ had had it as to have it myself, Belle."
"Oh, thank you, dear!" said Belle, flushing with pleasure, and kissingher playmate with as much gratitude as if she had really bestowed thedoll upon her.
"I would," repeated Mamie, feeling more and more virtuous; "and I dothink that you were real good. Tell me how you do it, Belle;" andshe lowered her voice and drew closer to Belle, so that no one mightoverhear her.
"Do what?" asked Belle, more and more mystified by Mamie's obscuremanner of expressing herself.
"How is it that you try not to be--well--not to bespoiled--or--or--selfish--or to stop yourself when you feel like beingnaughty. For you do try, Belle, I know; and I would like to, too, andto have people say I try to cure myself and am good; but every time Imake up my mind, I will go and forget, and am naughty again, and thenit is too late."
"But I'm _not_ always good," said Belle; "sometimes I am quite naughty,though I do know better than I used to. But you see, Mamie, papa isalways sorry then, and that helps me to remember about being obstinateor selfish or naughty. I don't like to grieve papa, so I have to tryto be good, so as to keep him as glad as I can."
"Is that the reason?" said Mamie. "Well, I like to please my papa andmamma too; but then it is such a bother, and I cannot remember always."
"Well," said Belle, solemnly, and with the air of one giving advice ina grave matter, as indeed she was; "there's another thing that mighthelp you more than that if you could think about it, Mamie. Bessie putme in mind of it. She said it always helped her when she felt provoked,and felt like being in a passion with any one; and it does help me tobe good. It is remembering that our Father in heaven sees us all thetime, and knows all the naughty things we do, whether they are muchnaughty, or only a little naughty; and what He thinks about it."
"Oh, yes," said Mamie, slowly, as if the thought had struck her for thefirst time. Presently she added: "Belle, do you suppose God noticedjust now when I wouldn't give Lulu the cake?"
"Yes, of course He did," answered the little Mentor.
"And do you believe He thought I was dreadful?" asked Mamie.
"Well, yes," said Belle. "I'm afraid He did. Pretty dreadful. You seeLulu is so little, and I s'pose He thinks such a big girl as you oughtto know better and give up more."
"Yes," said Mamie; "but, Belle, I don't know if I like to think Godsees _every_ thing I do. It's a little uncomfortable."
"When you're not good it is," answered Belle; "but that's the help, yousee. And we can't help His seeing us whether we like it or not. Andthen you know if He sees when we're naughty, He knows right away whenwe're sorry too."
Mamie sat as if thinking for one moment; then speaking in a still lowerwhisper than she had done before, she said,--
"Belle, don't tell anybody; but I believe I quite enjoy being naughtysometimes."
"I'm not surprised," said her young teacher. "I do, too, sometimes,and so I thought there was not much hope of me; and I told MaggieBradford about it, and she said she enjoyed it very much sometimes, butafterwards she felt so horridly about it that it did not make up forthat. And that was just like me, so it encouraged me a good deal."
"Yes," said Mamie, after another pause for reflection; "every onethinks Maggie is such a nice child that that is rather encouraging.It seems as if I couldn't help being obstinate or cross sometimes, orliking to fret mamma when she don't want to do what I want her to. She'most generally does though, 'cause I fuss till she lets me."
Mamie said these last words in a tone of some triumph, very differentfrom the rather subdued way in which she had spoken before, and Bellewas much shocked.
"O Mamie!" she said; "s'pose your mamma was to go away from you toheaven."
Mamie turned and looked at her mother, who was leaning back inher chair with a languid, weary air; and, smitten with a suddenfit of remorse for many past offences in the way of fret
ting and"fussing,"--one no longer ago than this very morning,--she rushed ather and half smothered her with penitent kisses; then, without givingher any explanation of this unexpected burst of affection, she returnedto her conversation with Belle.
"I don't see how I'm to remember always about God noticing what I do,"she said.
"That is bad habits," answered Belle. "You've never been accustomed toit, and so it seems hard at first. But you know that text, 'Thou Godseest me.' Take that to remember by."
"I don't want to," said Mamie, with a disdainful shrug of hershoulders; "that's too old-fashioned. I've known that ever since I wasborn. (I'd rather have something new.")
"There's a Bible verse I had the other Sunday," said Belle, "that meansthe same, I believe. Maybe you'd like that."
"Let's hear it," said Mamie, with an appearance of real interest.
"'The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and thegood,'" said Belle. "I s'pose you understand it."
"Yes," said Mamie. "It means He sees us whether we are good or whetherwe are naughty. It's nice to think He sees us when we're good. Yes, Ilike that, and I think I'll have it to remember myself by. Tell it tome again, Belle."
Belle did as she was asked, repeating the text till Mamie knew it quitewell.
"I'd be rather surprised at myself if I did turn good," she said, whenthis was accomplished; "but we will see. Now let's stop being sober,and play."