VI.
_POOR LITTLE WAGTAIL._
ARRIVED at the Rocks, the children speedily made their way to thepool which they considered their own special property, but, to theirgreat disgust, found that their rights there had not been properlyappreciated; for not only had some intruders been making free withtheir breakwater, but it was, as Mamie said, actually "unbuilt," andthe stones lying scattered about in all directions.
But this was soon lost sight of in the new interest of the duckling;and Mamie was speedily taken into the secret.
She was pleased with this addition to the afternoon's entertainment,and therefore did not express the disapprobation which Mabel hadrather looked for, saying "nothing hateful," but becoming as eager asthe other children to give the poor little bird his first "lesson inswimming." In fact, I am afraid that all four intensely enjoyed thisbit of mischief,--the outwitting of Mrs. Clark being considered a greattriumph, and quite a feat on Mabel's part.
And now they felt secure from interference. Lulu could not be broughthere upon the rocks, and her nurse must keep her above on the bank; andthe maids who attended Mabel and the little Gordons, having made theircharges promise not to leave the broad, flat rock where they were quitesafe, had preferred to join her, and keep an eye upon the children froma little distance. No one else was near, save some strangers seatedupon a ledge above them; and now, closing around the pool, they wereready for "such fun."
Stooping down to the tiny sheet of water, Mabel at last hastilywithdrew her hand from beneath her skirt, and gently dropped theduckling into it.
Mamie. p. 112.]
But instead of seeming to enjoy his introduction to the new element,and beginning to swim fearlessly about, as some of the children knewyoung ducks usually do, he rolled over on his side with drooping headand wings, and lay floating helplessly on the water, the only motion hemade being a feeble opening and shutting of his bill, as though gaspingfor air.
"What a stupid little duck!" said Mamie. "He ought to swim right away.Once I saw a whole litter of ducklings go right in the water, and swimas well as the big ducks. Here, sir! get up and swim."
And she lifted the duckling's head with her finger, and tried to puthim in an upright position; but the instant she let him go he fell overagain.
"You naughty, lazy thing!" said Mabel. "Now you've _got_ to swim,sir, so you may as well do it. Here, let's poke him with this stick."
"I think there's something the matter with him," said Julia. "He lookskind of flabby and sick; don't you think he does?"
"Oh, yes! look at his eyes; they're growing all white," said Mamie.
"Take him out of the water," said Alice. "You, Mabel; he's yours."
But if the duckling were sick or ailing, Mabel had no desire to claimhim. She was frightened now, and the words of the other children addedto her alarm.
"What have you done to him, Mabel?" asked Julia.
"I didn't do any thing," she answered snappishly; "and you shan't say Idid."
"Was he this way when you found him?" asked Alice, lifting the duck outof the water.
"I don't know," pouted Mabel. "No, he wasn't; 'cause he wiggled andsquirmed so I could hardly hold him at first."
"I expect you've hurt him then," said Mamie. "You ought to be ashamedto touch him."
Alas, poor little Wagtail! As Alice laid him upon the rock he flutteredhis wings feebly, stretched out his feet, gasped once more, and layquite motionless. No wonder that he had, at last, lain "quiet and good"in the thoughtless little hand which had grasped him so tightly tostill his "wiggling."
"O Mabel! you _have_ hurt him. He's dead, I believe," said Julia in atone of horrified distress.
Thoroughly ashamed and sorry now that she believed herself to havedone such fearful mischief, Mabel raised a doleful cry which speedilybrought her own nurse and the maid of the little Gordons to inquireinto the cause of the trouble.
The story was told by Julia, for Mabel could not make herselfunderstood; but, to the surprise of all the children, it was lookedupon as a good joke by both the women, who laughed immoderately whenthey heard it.
Nannette, knowing that she would be called to account if Mabel appearedwith red eyes and swollen cheeks, hastened to soothe and comfort herlittle mistress, telling her she need not be troubled, since her mammawould make good the loss of the duckling to Mrs. Clark, and would notlet the latter scold her.
But Mabel was hard to be comforted. She felt as if she had been cruelas well as naughty, and it made her very uncomfortable to think thatthe poor little bird had come to its death in her hands. Though wilfuland rather selfish, she was a tender-hearted child where pain orsuffering was concerned, and now it was with a kind of sick horrorthat she shuddered and cried over her work. So great was her distressthat even Mamie, forgetting the smothered ill-will between them, triedto console her, but all in vain; and she made such an ado that itattracted the attention of the party on the rock beyond them, and oneof the ladies rose and came towards them.
"What is the trouble? Can I be of any help here?" she asked in a kindvoice. Then seeing the dead bird, she added, "Ah! I see, your ducklingis dead. How did it come, my dear?" laying her hand on Mabel's head.
Mabel had ceased her cries at sound of the strange voice, but she didnot speak; and Mamie answered for her.
"She killed it herself, ma'am. She didn't mean to, but then she had nobusiness to touch it."
At this indisputable but unpleasant truth, Mabel broke out again,having first relieved her feelings by making her "very ugliest face" atMamie for "telling tales of her." Then turning to the lady, she saidwith a heavy sob, "Indeed, I didn't mean to hurt it, ma'am; indeed, Ididn't."
"I am sure you did not," said the lady soothingly, sitting down on therock beside Mabel. "But where did the duckling come from? Was it yours?"
No; there was an added trouble. Mabel did not speak, but hung herhead; while Julia, after a moment's hesitation, answered,--
"No, ma'am, it was not hers; it was not any of ours. It was Mrs.Clark's, a very cross woman who keeps the house where we board; and Is'pose Mabel is afraid of her too. I know I would be."
"There's no need of saying any thing about it to Mrs. Clark, I'mthinking," said the nurse of the little Gordons. "Put it under the bankwhere you found it, Miss Mabel, and she'll never know."
The lady looked with grave eyes at Mabel, as if watching her to seeif she would listen to such wrong advice. Neither Mabel nor the otherchildren noticed this; but she was pleased to see the former shake herhead decidedly, as she answered, sobbing,--
"No, no, I wouldn't do that. I'll have to tell. Once I hid something,and didn't tell I did it,--Belle and Lily knew about it, and Mamietoo,--and it made me such a lot of trouble; and I'm never going to nottell again. But I don't care for that old Mrs. Clark. Papa won't lether scold me. But, oh, dear! I wish I hadn't squeezed the poor littleduck; I wish I hadn't! I never thought he'd go and kill himself justfor that. I squeezed him pretty softly too. Oh, dear! and I meant toput him back safely, too, when we had done swimming him."
And looking confidingly up in the lady's sweet, sympathizing face,Mabel told the whole story of the finding of the duckling beneath thecurrant bush, and how she had brought him away.
"I am glad, dear," said the lady, when Mabel had finished, "that youhave made up your mind to confess what you have done, and not toattempt to hide it. I believe you acted without thought, and perhapsdid not intend to do any thing very naughty; but you would make alittle wrong a great wrong by trying to hide it."
"Yes," said Mamie to herself, "and God would know it anyway, for 'theeyes of the Lord are in every place,' and He sees whatever we do; soHe saw Mabel take that little duck."
Mamie had been somewhat mindful of Lily's reproof since the lastday they were here, and was more careful how she took the words ofthe Bible heedlessly upon her lips; but I am sorry to say she wasrather more anxious to test the conduct of others by her watchwordthan she was her own, unless indeed she imagined herself particular
lywell-behaved and virtuous; when she would feel as if she was laying upa very good account for herself in the eyes of her Maker.
She almost started; for it seemed as if the stranger lady must haveread her thoughts when the latter said to Mabel,--
"And even if you had hidden this from us all, dear, you know there isone Eye from which you could not hide it; an Eye which sees even thevery wish to do wrong, and you could not have been comfortable or happyknowing that, could you?"
"No, ma'am," said Mabel, recalling the misery of the time she hadspoken of; the time when she had taken a locket belonging to herCousin Belle, not with the intention of keeping it, it is true; butwhen she knew Belle did not wish her even to touch it, and the lockethad mysteriously disappeared, and so she had been brought into greattrouble and disgrace for a time. "Yes, ma'am, and I'm always going totell, always."
There is no saying how far the consciousness that her father and motherwould shield her from blame, and make good the loss to Mrs. Clark, wentto support Mabel's resolution to confess all; but as she was by nomeans a deceitful or dishonest child, we will hope that she would havemade this amends, even with the prospect of a severe scolding as theconsequence.
So perhaps the lady's words made less impression on her than they didupon Mamie, on whose conscience they smote unpleasantly, as she couldnot help feeling that, in her heart, there was the wish, and even thehalf-formed intention, to do wrong if opportunity should offer.
"And now what will you do with the poor little duckling?" said thelady, taking the dead bird in her hand, and smoothing its downy back."Shall we let one of the women toss it away in the waves?"
"Oh, no, ma'am!" said Mabel; "don't you think I ought to give it backto Mrs. Clark, even if it is dead? She might want to have it stuffedand put under a glass shade like a canary of mine that died, and papahad him stuffed for me."
The lady could hardly keep back a smile at the idea of the ugly littleduck preserved beneath a glass shade, like some rare and valued pet;but she only said, approvingly,--
"Very well; perhaps you are right to wish to give it back to the owner."
"And if Mrs. Clark don't want him any more we might have a grandfuneral for him, and bury him to-morrow," said Julia Gordon.
"Oh, I hope she won't want him," said Mabel, rather cheered by theprospect of funeral honors to her victim.
"Would you like," said the lady, "that I should tell you a thing whichhappened to me when I was a little girl?"
"Yes'm," said Mabel, brightening afresh at the suggestion; and in theeager faces which were turned towards her the kind stranger saw thather offer met with general approval. Our little friends, like mostchildren, were always ready for a story.
"When I was a child," she began, "I was not the best-behaved one in theworld. I do not think I meant to be very naughty, but I was thoughtlessand wilful, perhaps a little obstinate when I had once made up my mindto do or have a thing; and although I had a good, wise, and tendermother, I was impatient of contradiction even from her. As to mybrothers and sisters, all older than I was, I would not listen to theleast advice or interference from them.
"I was about ten years old, and we were spending the summer, as usual,at my grandfather's country-seat up in the mountains. On the side ofthe hill, at a short distance from grandpapa's, were the farm-house,dairy, orchard, and kitchen-garden; and all these I thought much moreamusing places than the house, lawn, and flower-garden where I properlybelonged, and where my mother generally preferred to have me play.For there were more ways and places for me to get into mischief downat the farm than there were at the house; and I am afraid mother knewvery well that my heedlessness and self-will led me often to do thething I wished rather than the thing that was _right_. Still I was notforbidden to go to the farm; and, so long as my brothers or sisterswere with me, she never objected.
"The thing of all others which attracted me most at the farm was ahalf-grown black kitten. Mother could not bear cats, so we never hadone at home, or at grandpapa's; but up at the farm-house, I could amusemyself by the hour with this playful little creature, which grew veryfond of me.
"One morning we had some young visitors; and of course we must showthem all the beauties and curiosities of the place. Among them was theorchard, although the apples there were as yet hardly larger than nuts.
"As we were passing through it one of my brothers spied a nest in atree.
"'Hallo, Annie!' he said, 'there's a nest. I'll bring it down for youif you want it.'
"I did want it; but one of my sisters begged Will to make sure that itwas empty.
"'Oh, it must be empty; it's too late for birds to be in it,' saidWill, who like myself was rather headstrong and heedless; and raising awhip he carried, he whisked the lash over and around the nest.
"Ah! the nest was not empty, though it really was late in the seasonfor the young ones; and, the next moment, a beautiful bird fellfluttering at our feet, its wing broken by the blow from Will's whip,while its mate flew from the nest, terrified almost out of her life.
"A more crestfallen, distressed being than Will it would have beenhard to find; for he was very tender-hearted, and would not hurt aliving thing purposely. We were all much disturbed, and at once setabout doing all we could for the poor little sufferer. My eldestbrother bound up its wing as well as he was able, and we brought somehay with which Will climbed the tree, and made a bed in a forked branchnear the nest. He said there were four half-fledged birds in thenest, and was more disturbed than ever at the mischief he had done.But he promised himself and us that he would care for parent-birds aswell as nestlings, as long as either should need it; knowing that thepoor little mother would have too much to do to feed both husband andchildren.
"Brother Ned handed up the wounded bird, and Will put it carefullyin the bed he had made for it; after which, the rest of us went on,and left him digging a supply of worms which he intended to put in aconvenient place, as a store from which the mother-bird might helpherself without the trouble of looking for them. He was still quitequiet and out of spirits when he joined us at the dairy some half-hourlater, though he told us the mother-bird had returned, and her poormate had eaten a caterpillar placed handy for him.
"That afternoon my sister Rosa and I went up to the orchard with Willto see about his birds, and carry them food and water.
"As we passed the door of the farm-house, Blackie, the kitten, camerunning out to see us, and I took her up in my arms to take her with me.
"'Don't bring that cat,' said Will. 'She might get at the birds.'
"'No, she won't. I shan't let her,' I answered.
"'But she might,' said Rosa; 'she's so quick and active, she'd be upthe tree before you knew it.'
"'No, she shan't,' I repeated positively; 'I'll keep her in my arms allthe time, and I'm going to take her.'
"And though Will begged me, and was even angry about it, I persisted intaking the cat with me.
"And I did keep her fast in my arms, although she struggled to be free,and even scratched me severely when she saw, as she immediately did,what Will was at.
"He found the little creature somewhat better than when he had left itin the morning, and it was quite tame, fluttering but little when heclimbed the tree, and almost taking the worm he offered from his hand.He supplied it with all it needed, and came down as soon as possible,as the mother-bird had again flown from the nest when he came near.
"How kitty's eyes gleamed and sparkled, and how fiercely she struggledin my arms! It was all I could do to keep my hold; and I was so afraidthat she would escape in spite of me, that I was sorry that I had notlistened to my sister and brother and left her behind.
"But at last we were ready to go; and when I put puss down at thefarm-house door, I relieved my feelings and visited my own obstinacyon her by giving her two or three good cuffs. It never came into themind of any one of us as she scampered away and hid beneath the stoop,that she might find her way back to the nest by herself, or of all themischief she would work there.
&n
bsp; "You may be very sure that the first thing to be thought of in themorning was the helpless birds up in the orchard; and directlyafter breakfast Will and I went over to the farm. As we passed thehouse-door, kitty came frisking out to me, as usual; but mindful of thetrouble I had had with her the day before, I bade her stay at home.
"All in vain, however; puss was determined to follow. Whether sheguessed where we were going or no, I cannot tell; but it really seemedas if she did, and, feeling guilty, wanted to be on the spot when wediscovered her cruelty. Come she would, although Will threw stones ather, and I beat her with a stick, and chased her back many times; wewould take only a few steps onwards, and there she was after us again.At last Will turned an empty barrel over her, put a stone on top of it,and there we left her mewing piteously.
"But we might have let her come on; the mischief was done. When wereached the tree, what destruction was there! The lame bird was gonefrom his bed of hay, and a few bright feathers scattered about toldwhat his fate had been; the nest hung, torn and ragged, empty of itsyoung inhabitants; while the mother-bird was flying wildly to andfro, wheeling round and round her ruined home, and uttering piteous,mournful notes.
"Will looked at me, and I at him; but for the moment, neither of uscould find words for the thought that was in both our minds; but if thepainful truth had needed to be made plainer, it was done so at thatinstant by puss, who sprang suddenly forward, and pounced on somethingamong the long grass beneath the tree. Will was upon her like a flash,and with some difficulty succeeded in taking her prey from her. Itwas one of the nestlings, but quite dead and stiff. Perhaps he hadbeen killed by a fall from the tree when the cat attacked his home, orperhaps her cruel claws had crushed the life out of him when she hadgorged herself upon his father and brothers, and could eat no more.
"Will, great boy though he was, could not keep back his tears, andvowed all manner of vengeance on puss for the destruction of hisadopted family. As for me, I was heart-broken, for I could not but feelthat it was all my fault; and while poor pussy had only followed herown natural instincts in destroying the birds, I had been obstinate andwilful, and so brought about such a sad thing; for if I had not carriedthe cat there, she would probably not have discovered the nest.
"And I am forced to believe that Will made good his word in the mostsevere manner; for from that day I never saw kitty again, although Iwent to the farm as often as before; but I never had the courage to askany questions, feeling quite sure that puss and birds had all come toa violent death through my obstinacy."
"Is that all, ma'am?" asked Mabel, when the lady had ceased speaking.
"That is all," she answered; "and, judging from your grave littlefaces, I should think it was enough."
"Oh, we like it very much, and we are sorry it is finished," Juliahastened to say.
"Yes," said Mabel with a long sigh; "and I think that story is rather acomfort."
"How so?" asked the lady.
"'Cause it's nice to know you could be naughty once when you are sogood now."
"How do you know I am good now, or that I have improved any since I wasa child?" said the lady smilingly.
"I should think you must be good when you are so kind to us," answeredMabel, slipping her hand confidingly into that of her new friend.
"Well, perhaps I may have improved in the way of believing others couldbe as wise as myself, and in giving up my own will now and then," saidthe lady; "for that was a severe lesson to me."
"But how did the pussy get out from the barrel?" asked Mamie.
"Oh! I forgot that. Some one of the family had heard her mewing, andlet her out, not knowing of any particular reason why she should bekept a prisoner."
Then she bade the children good-by, and leaving them to their play wentback to her own friends.