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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fairchild Family, by Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Fairchild Family
+
+Author: Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+Editor: Mary E. Palgrave
+
+Illustrator: Florence M. Rudland
+
+Release Date: August 19, 2009 [EBook #29725]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Linda Hamilton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY
+
+BY Mrs. SHERWOOD
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "_Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children, Lucy, Emily
+and Henry._"--Page 1.]
+
+
+
+
+  THE FAIRCHILD
+  FAMILY
+
+  BY Mrs.
+  SHERWOOD
+
+  EDITED WITH
+  INTRODUCTION
+  BY
+  MARY E.
+  PALGRAVE
+
+  WITH
+  ILLUSTRATIONS
+  BY
+  FLORENCE M.
+  RUDLAND
+
+  NEW YORK
+  FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
+  PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+Introduction
+
+
+The History of Lucy, Emily, and Henry Fairchild was begun in 1818,
+nearly a century ago. The two little misses and their brother played
+and did lessons, were naughty and good, happy and sorrowful, when
+George III. was still on the throne; when gentlemen wore blue coats
+with brass buttons, knee-breeches, and woollen stockings; and ladies
+were attired in short waists, low necks, and long ringlets. The Battle
+of Waterloo was quite a recent event; and the terror of "Boney" was
+still used by nursery maids to frighten their charges into good
+behaviour.
+
+Perhaps some of those who take up this book and glance at its
+title-page are saying to themselves. We have plenty of stories about
+the children of to-day--the children of the twentieth century, not of
+the early nineteenth. How should it interest us to read of these little
+ones of the time of our great-grandparents, whose lives were so dull
+and ideas so old-fashioned; who never played cricket or tennis, or went
+to London or to the seaside, or rode bicycles, or did any of the things
+we do?
+
+To anyone who is debating whether or no he will read the _Fairchild
+Family_, I would say, Try a chapter or two before you make up your
+mind. It is not what people _do_, but what they _are_ that makes them
+interesting. True enough, Lucy, Emily and Henry led what we should call
+nowadays very dull lives; but they were by no means dull little people
+for all that. We shall find them very living and real when we make
+acquaintance with them. They tore their clothes, and lost their pets,
+and wanted the best things, and slapped each other when they disagreed.
+They had their good times and their bad times, their fun and frolic and
+their scrapes and naughtiness, just as children had long before they
+were born and are having now, long, long after they are dead.
+
+In fact, as we get to know them--and, I hope, to love them--we shall
+realize, perhaps with wonder, how very like they are to the children of
+to-day. If they took us by the hand and led us to their playroom, or
+into "Henry's arbour" under the great trees, we should make friends
+with them in five minutes, even though they wear long straight skirts
+down to their ankles and straw bonnets burying their little faces, and
+Henry is attired in a frock and pinafore, albeit he is eight years old.
+We should have glorious games with them, following the fleet Lucy
+running like a hare; we should kiss them when we went away, and reckon
+them ever after among our friends.
+
+And so, as we follow the _History of the Fairchild Family_ we shall
+understand, better than we have yet done, how children are children
+everywhere, and very much the same from generation to generation.
+Knowing Lucy and Emily and Henry will help us to feel more sympathy
+with other children of bygone days, the children of our history
+books--with pretty Princess Amelia, and the little Dauphin in the
+Bastille, with sweet Elizabeth Stuart, the "rose-bud born in snow" of
+Carisbrook Castle, and a host of others. They were _real_ children too,
+who had real treats and real punishments, real happy days and sad ones.
+They felt and thought and liked and disliked much the same things as we
+do now. We stretch out our hands to them across the misty centuries,
+and hail them our companions and playmates.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Few people nowadays, even among those who know the _Fairchild Family_,
+know anything of its writer, Mrs. Sherwood. Yet her life, as told by
+herself, is as amusing as a story, and as full of incidents as a life
+could well be. When she was a very old woman she wrote her
+autobiography, helped by her daughter; and from this book, which has
+been long out of print, I will put together a short sketch which will
+give you some idea of what an interesting and attractive person she
+was.
+
+The father of Mrs. Sherwood--or, to give her her maiden name, Mary
+Butt--was a clergyman. He had a beautiful country living called
+Stanford, in Worcestershire, not far from Malvern, where Mary was born
+on May 6, 1775. She had one brother, a year older than herself, and a
+sister several years younger, whose name was Lucy.
+
+Mary Butt's childhood, in her beautiful country home, was very happy.
+She was extremely tall for her age, strong and vigorous, with glowing
+cheeks and dark eyes and "very long hair of a bright auburn," which she
+tells us her mother had great pleasure in arranging. She and her
+brother Marten were both beautiful children; but no one thought Mary at
+all clever, or fancied what a mark she would make in the world by her
+writings.
+
+Mary was a dreamy, thoughtful child, full of fancies and imaginings.
+She loved to sit on the stairs, listening to her mother's voice singing
+sweetly in her dressing-room to her guitar. She had wonderful fancies
+about an echo which the children discovered in the hilly grounds round
+the rectory. Echo she believed to be a beautiful winged boy; "and I
+longed to see him, though I knew it was in vain to attempt to pursue
+him to his haunts; neither was Echo the only unseen being who filled my
+imagination." Her mother used to tell her and Marten stories in the
+dusk of winter evenings; one of those stories she tells again for other
+children in the _Fairchild Family_. It is the tale of the old lady who
+was so fond of inviting children to spend a day with her.
+
+The first grand event of Mary's life was a journey taken to Lichfield,
+to stay with her grandfather, old Dr. Butt, at his house called Pipe
+Grange. She was then not quite four years old. Dr. Butt had been a
+friend, in former days, of Maria Edgeworth, who wrote the _Parents'
+Assistant_ and other delightful stories; of Mr. Day, author of
+_Sandford and Merton_; and other clever people then living at
+Lichfield. He knew the great actor, David Garrick, too, who used to
+come there to see his brother; and the famous Dr. Samuel Johnson, who
+had been born and brought up at Lichfield. But to little Mary, scarcely
+more than a baby, these things were not of much interest. What she
+recollected of her grandfather was his present to her, on her fourth
+birthday, of "a doll with a paper hoop and wig of real flax." And her
+memories of Pipe Grange were of walks with her brother and nurse in
+green lanes; of lovely commons and old farmhouses, with walls covered
+with ivy and yew-trees cut in grotesque forms; of "feeding some little
+birds in a hedge, and coming one day and finding the nest and birds
+gone, which was a great grief to me."
+
+Soon afterwards the nursery party at Stanford was increased by two
+little cousins, Henry and Margaret Sherwood. They had lost their
+mother, and were sent to be for a time under the care of their aunt,
+Mrs. Butt. They joined in the romps of Marten and Mary, and very lively
+romps they seem to have been. Mary describes how her brother used to
+put her in a drawer and kick it down the nursery stairs; how he heaped
+chairs and tables one on the other, set her at the top of them, and
+then threw them all down; how he put a bridle round her neck and drove
+her about with a whip. "But," she says, "being a very hardy child, and
+not easily hurt, I suppose I had myself to blame for some of his
+excesses; for with all this he was the kindest of brothers to me, and I
+loved him very, very much."
+
+When Mary was six years old she began to make stories, but she tells us
+she had not the least recollection of what they were about. She was not
+yet able to write, so whenever she had thought out a story, she had to
+follow her mother about with a slate and pencil and get her to write at
+her dictation. The talk Mary and Marten heard while sitting at meals
+with their parents was clever and interesting. Many visitors came to
+the house, and after a while there were several young men living there,
+pupils of Mr. Butt, so that there was often a large party. The two
+little children were never allowed to interrupt, but had to sit and
+listen, "whether willing or not"; and in this way the shrewd and
+observant Mary picked up endless scraps of knowledge while still very
+young. She tells us a good deal about her education in these early
+days. "It was the fashion then for children to wear iron collars round
+the neck, with a backboard strapped over the shoulders; to one of these
+I was subjected from my sixth to my thirteenth year. It was put on in
+the morning, and seldom taken off till late in the evening, and I
+generally did all my lessons standing in stocks, with this stiff collar
+round my neck. At the same time I had the plainest possible food, such
+as dry bread and cold milk. I never sat on a chair in my mother's
+presence. Yet I was a very happy child, and when relieved from my
+collar I not unseldom manifested my delight by starting from our
+hall-door and taking a run for at least half a mile through the woods
+which adjoined our pleasure grounds."
+
+Marten, meanwhile, was having a much less strict and severe time of it.
+Mr. Butt was an easy-going man, who liked everything about him to be
+comfortable and pretty, and was not inclined to take much trouble
+either with himself or others. While Mary was with her mother in her
+dressing-room, working away at her books, Marten was supposed to be
+learning Latin in his father's study. But as Mr. Butt had no idea of
+authority, Marten made no progress whatever, and the end of it was that
+good Mrs. Butt had to teach herself Latin, in order to become her boy's
+tutor; and Mary was made to take it up as well, in order to incite him
+to learn.
+
+The children were great readers, though their books were few. _Robinson
+Crusoe_; two sets of fairy tales; _The Little Female Academy_; and
+_Ćsop's Fables_ made up their whole library. _Robinson Crusoe_ was
+Marten's favourite book; his wont, when a reading fit was on, was to
+place himself on the bottom step of the stairs and to mount one step
+every time he turned over a page. Mary, of course, copied him exactly.
+Another funny custom with the pair was, on the first day of every
+month, to take two sticks, with certain notches cut in them, and hide
+them in a hollow tree in the woods. There was a grand mystery about
+this, though Mary does not tell us in what it consisted. "No person,"
+she says, "was to see us do this, and no one was to know we did it."
+
+In the summer that Mary was eight years old, a quaint visitor came to
+Stanford Rectory. This was a distant relative who had married a
+Frenchman and lived at Paris through the gay and wicked period which
+ushered in the French Revolution. Mary's description of this lady and
+her coming to the rectory is very amusing: "Never shall I forget the
+arrival of Mme. de Pelevé at Stanford. She arrived in a post-chaise
+with a maid, a lap-dog, a canary-bird, an organ, and boxes heaped upon
+boxes till it was impossible to see the persons within. I was, of
+course, at the door to watch her alight. She was a large woman,
+elaborately dressed, highly rouged, carrying an umbrella, the first I
+had seen. She was dark, I remember, and had most brilliant eyes. The
+style of dress at that period was perhaps more preposterous and
+troublesome than any which has prevailed within the memory of those now
+living. This style had been introduced by the ill-fated Marie
+Antoinette, and Mme. de Pelevé had come straight from the very
+fountain-head of these absurdities. The hair was worn crisped or
+violently frizzed about the face in the shape of a horse-shoe; long
+stiff curls, fastened with pins, hung on the neck; and the whole was
+well pomatumed and powdered with different coloured powders. A high
+cushion was fastened at the top of the hair, and over that either a cap
+adorned with artificial flowers and feathers to such a height as
+sometimes rendered it somewhat difficult to preserve its equilibrium,
+or a balloon hat, a fabric of wire and tiffany, of immense
+circumference. The hat would require to be fixed on the head with long
+pins, and standing, trencherwise, quite flat and unbending in its full
+proportions. The crown was low, and, like the cap, richly set off with
+feathers and flowers. The lower part of the dress consisted of a full
+petticoat generally flounced, short sleeves, and a very long train; but
+instead of a hoop there was a vast pad at the bottom of the waist
+behind, and a frame of wire in front to throw out the neckerchief, so
+as much as possible to resemble the craw of a pigeon.
+
+"Such were the leading articles of this style of dress, and so arranged
+was the figure which stepped forth from the chaise at the door of the
+lovely and simple parsonage of Stanford. My father was ready to hand
+her out, my mother to welcome her. The band-boxes were all conveyed
+into our best bedroom, while Madame had her place allotted to her in
+our drawing-room, where she sat like a queen, and really, by the
+multitudes of anecdotes she had to tell, rendered herself very
+agreeable. Whilst she was with us she never had concluded her toilet
+before one or two in the day, and she always appeared either in new
+dresses or new adjustments. I have often wished that I could recall
+some of the anecdotes she used to tell of the Court of Versailles, but
+one only can I remember; it referred to the then popular song of
+'Marlbrook,' which she used to sing. 'When the Dauphin,' she said, 'was
+born, a nurse was procured for him from the country, and there was no
+song with which she could soothe the babe but 'Marlbrook,' an old
+ballad, sung till then only in the provinces. The poor Queen heard the
+air, admired, and brought it forward, making it the fashion.' This is
+the only one of Mme. de Pelevé's stories which I remember, although I
+was very greatly amused by them, and could have listened to her for
+hours together. My admiration was also strongly excited by the
+splendour and varieties of her dresses, her superb trimmings, her
+sleeves tied with knots of coloured ribbon, her trains of silk, her
+beautiful hats, and I could not understand the purpose for which she
+took so much pains to array herself."
+
+I think when we read of Miss Crosbie's arrival at Mr. Fairchild's, and
+the time she kept them all waiting for supper while she changed her
+gown, we shall be reminded of these early recollections of Mrs.
+Sherwood's. A year or two later this quaint Madame came again on a
+visit to Stanford; and on this occasion, as Mary tells us, she put it
+into the little girl's head, for the first time, to wonder whether she
+were pretty or no. "No sooner was dinner over," she says, "than I ran
+upstairs to a large mirror to make the important inquiry, and at this
+mirror I stood a long time, turning round and examining myself with no
+small interest." Madame de Pelevé further encouraged her vanity by
+making her a present of "a gauze cap of a very gay description." It
+must have looked odd and out of place perched on the top of the little
+girl's "very long hair and very rosy cheeks." Another of Mme. de
+Pelevé's not very judicious presents was "a shepherdess hat of pale
+blue silver tiffany." But as this hat had to be fastened on with
+"large, long corking-pins," it proved "a terrible evil" to its wearer;
+which, perhaps, was just as well!
+
+By this time dear brother Marten had been sent away to school at
+Reading; but little Lucy was growing old enough to be something of a
+playmate; and Margaret, the motherless cousin, had been brought again
+to Stanford on a long visit. We can fancy what a delightful companion
+to these two small ones Mary must have been. She had left off, for the
+time, writing stories, but she was never tired of telling them. In
+company she was, in those days, very silent and shy, and much at a loss
+for words; but they never failed her when telling her stories to her
+little companions. Her head, she says, was full of "fairies, wizards,
+enchanters, and all the imagery of heathen gods and goddesses which I
+could get out of any book in my father's study," and with these she
+wove the most wonderful tales, one story often going on, at every
+possible interval, for months together. Her lively imagination "filled
+every region of the wild woods at Stanford with imaginary people.
+Wherever I saw a few ashes in a glade, left by those who burnt sticks
+to sell the ashes to assist in the coarse washings in farmhouses, I
+fixed a hoard of gipsies and made long stories. If I could discern
+fairy rings, which abounded in those woods, they gave me another set of
+images; and I had imaginary hermits in every hollow of the rocky sides
+of the dingle, and imaginary castles on every height; whilst the church
+and churchyard supplied me with more ghosts and apparitions than I
+dared to tell of." Mary and her stories must have been better worth
+having than a whole library of "fairy-books."
+
+One source from which Mary drew her tales was a collection of old
+volumes which her father had bought at a sale and to which her mother
+had given up a room over the pantry and storeroom. Mr. Butt made Mary
+his librarian; and she revelled in old romances, such as Sir Philip
+Sydney's _Arcadia_, and in illustrated books of travel; spending many
+hours on a high stool in the bookroom, among "moths, dust, and black
+calf-skin," studying these treasures.
+
+One more glimpse must be given of those happy child-days, and we will
+have it in Mary's own words: "I grew so rapidly in my childhood, that
+at thirteen I had obtained my full height, which is considered above
+the usual standard of women. I stooped very much when thus growing. As
+my mother always dressed me like a child in a pinafore, I must
+certainly have been a very extraordinary sort of personage, and
+everyone cried out on seeing me as one that was to be a giantess. As my
+only little friend of about my own age was small and delicate, I was
+very often thoroughly abashed at my appearance; and therefore never was
+I so happy as when I was out of sight of visitors in my own beloved
+woods of Stanford. In those sweet woods I had many little embowered
+corners, which no one knew but myself; and there, when my daily tasks
+were done, I used to fly with a book and enjoy myself in places where I
+could hear the cooing of doves, the note of the blackbird, and the rush
+of two waterfalls coming from two sides of the valley and meeting
+within the range where I might stroll undisturbed by anyone. It must be
+noticed that I never made these excursions without carrying a huge
+wooden doll with me, which I generally slung with a string round my
+waist under my pinafore, as I was thought by the neighbours too big to
+like a doll. My sister, as a child, had not good health, and therefore
+she could bear neither the exposure nor fatigue I did; hence the reason
+wherefore I was so much alone. From this cause, too, she was never
+submitted to the same discipline that I was; she was never made so
+familiar with the stocks and iron collar, nor the heavy tasks; for
+after my brother was gone to school I still was carried on in my Latin
+studies, and even before I was twelve I was obliged to translate fifty
+lines of Virgil every morning, standing in these same stocks, with the
+iron collar pressing on my throat."
+
+When Mary was between twelve and thirteen a great change came in her
+life. Her father was presented to the vicarage of Kidderminster in
+Staffordshire, where the carpets are made. It was then a very rich
+living. It was settled that they should go to Kidderminster to live,
+while a curate was to do duty at Stanford and occupy the rectory. In
+those days clergymen often held two or even three livings at once in
+different parts of the country, taking the stipends themselves, and
+putting a curate in charge of whichever parishes they did not choose to
+reside in.
+
+Mary was pleased at the idea of a change, as children generally are;
+and so was her father, who loved society and the noise and bustle of a
+town. But to poor Mrs. Butt, who was a very shy, timid, retiring
+person, the idea of exchanging "the glorious groves of Stanford for a
+residence in a town, where nothing is seen but dusty houses and dyed
+worsted hanging to dry on huge frames in every open space," was
+terrible. Mary could well remember how, during that summer, her mother
+walked in the woods, crying bitterly and fretting over the coming
+change till her health suffered.
+
+Life in the big manufacturing town was much less wild and free than it
+had been in the Worcestershire parsonage; but the two little girls
+managed to be very happy in their own way. For one thing, they had a
+bedroom looking into the street, and a street was a new thing to them,
+and they spent every idle moment in staring out of the windows. They
+had a cupboard in which they kept their treasures--a dolls' house which
+they had brought from Stanford, and all the books they had hoarded up
+from childhood; "these, with two white cats, which we had also brought
+from Stanford, happily afforded us much amusement." Mary's rage for
+dolls was, moreover, at its height, though she more than ever took
+pains to hide her darlings, under her pinafore, from the eyes of
+Kidderminster.
+
+Most of all, however, they amused themselves, when alone, by talking
+together in characters, keeping to the same year after year, till at
+length the play was played out. "We were both queens," Mary tells us,
+"and we were sisters, and were supposed to live near each other, and we
+pretended we had a great many children. In our narratives we allowed
+the introduction of fairies, and I used to tell long stories of things
+and places and adventures which I feigned I had met with in this my
+character of queen. The moment we two set out to walk, we always began
+to converse in these characters. My sister used generally to begin
+with, 'Well, sister, how do you do to-day? How are the children? Where
+have you been?' and before we were a yard from the house we were deep
+in talk. Oh, what wonderful tales was I wont to tell of things which I
+pretended I had seen, and how many, many happy hours have I and my
+sister spent in this way, I being the chief speaker."
+
+Not long after their coming to Kidderminster, Mary's father took her
+with him on a visit to a large country house in Shropshire. They drove
+all the way in a gig, a man-servant riding behind on horseback. They
+reached the house just in time to dress for dinner, at which there was
+to be a large party. Mary had to put on her "very best dress, which,"
+she tells us, "was a blue silk slip, with a muslin frock over it, a
+blue sash, and, oh! sad to say, my silver tiffany hat. I did not dare
+but wear it, as it had been sent with me."
+
+A maid had been told off to dress Mary, and "great was the pains which
+she took to fix my shepherdess hat on one side, as it was intended to
+be worn, and to arrange my hair, which was long and hanging in curls;
+but what would I not have given to have got rid of the rustling
+tiffany!" Mary describes her consternation when she reached the
+drawing-room in this array, and found "a number of great people" there,
+but no other child to consort with. When everybody went to walk in the
+shrubberies after dinner, and a gentleman offered her his arm, as was
+the wont in those days, she was so panic-stricken that she darted up a
+bank, through the shrubs and away, and showed herself no more that
+evening.
+
+The next thing that happened was that the other little cousin before
+mentioned, Henry Sherwood, came to live with the Butts and go to a
+day-school in the town. Mary recalls him as she saw him on arriving--a
+very small, fair-haired boy, dressed in "a full suit of what used to be
+called pepper-and-salt cloth." He soon settled down in his new home, "a
+very quiet little personage, very good-tempered, and very much in awe
+of his aunt," with a fame among his cousins for his talent for making
+paper boxes one within another. His bed was in an attic, next door to
+his big cousin Marten's room. Marten had a shelf full of books, which
+Henry used to carry off to his own domain and read over and over again.
+From these books he first dated an intense love of reading which was
+destined to be his chief stand-by in old age. We shall not wonder that
+Mary loved to recall her early remembrances of this little school-boy
+when we know that, several years later, he became her husband, with
+whom she spent a long and happy married life.
+
+Mary has other amusing recollections of this time of her early
+girlhood, and tells them in her own charming way; but we must pass on
+to her school life, which is bound to interest her readers of to-day,
+so many of whom go to school. It was the summer of 1790. Mr. Butt had
+been taking his turn of duty at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, being by
+this time one of the chaplains to the King. On his way home he stopped
+at Reading to visit his friend Dr. Valpy, in whose school Marten had
+for a time been educated.
+
+During this visit Dr. Valpy took him to see "a sort of exhibition" got
+up by the "young ladies" of M. and Mme. de St. Quentin's school. This
+famous school, which was afterwards removed to London, was held then in
+the old Abbey at Reading. "This," thought Mr. Butt, "is the very place
+for Mary"; and to the Abbey School it was decided that she should go.
+
+Marten was now at Westminster School. When the time came for him to
+return after the holidays, Mary had a seat in the chaise, and drove
+with him and her father as far as Reading. You will be amused by her
+description of her school and schoolmistresses, and of her first
+introduction to them.
+
+"The house--or, rather, the Abbey itself--was exceedingly interesting;
+and though I know not its exact history, yet I knew every hole and
+corner of what remained of the ancient building, which consisted of a
+gateway with rooms above, and on each side of it a vast staircase, of
+which the balustrades had originally been gilt. Then, too, there were
+many little nooks and round closets, and many larger and smaller rooms
+and passages, which appeared to be rather more modern; whilst the
+gateway itself stood without the garden walls upon the Forbury or open
+green, which belonged to the town, and where Dr. Valpy's boys played
+after school hours. The best part of the house was encompassed by a
+beautiful old-fashioned garden, where the young ladies were allowed to
+wander under tall trees in hot summer evenings."
+
+When Mary arrived at the Abbey the holidays were not quite over, and
+she was the first of the sixty pupils to present herself. The school
+was kept by Mme. de St. Quentin and a Mrs. Latournelle, who were
+partners. "Madame," as the girls always called her, was an Englishwoman
+by birth, but had married a French refugee whom circumstances had
+obliged to become French teacher in the school. Madame was a handsome
+woman, with bright eyes and a very dignified presence. Mary tells us
+that she danced remarkably well, played and sang and did fine
+needlework, and "spoke well and agreeably in English and in French
+without fear." Mrs. Latournelle was a funny, old-fashioned body, whose
+chief concern was with the housekeeping, tea-making, and other domestic
+duties. She had a cork leg, and her dress had never been known to
+change its fashion. "Her white muslin handkerchief was always pinned
+with the same number of pins; her muslin apron always hung in the same
+form; she always wore the same short sleeves, cuffs, and ruffles, with
+a breast-bow to answer the bow on her cap, both being flat with two
+notched ends."
+
+Mrs. Latournelle received Mary in a wainscotted parlour, hung round
+with miniatures and pieces of framed needlework done in chenille,
+representing tombs and weeping willows. Mary was to be what in those
+days was known as a "parlour-boarder," which meant that she was treated
+in part as a grown-up young lady, had more liberty and privileges than
+the other girls, and, in fact, was allowed to do very much as she
+liked. She thought herself gloriously happy, on coming down to
+breakfast next day in the twilight of a winter's morning, to be allowed
+to eat hot buttered toast and to draw as near as she liked to the fire;
+neither of which things was it lawful to do at home.
+
+Mary was "vastly amused," during the first few days, at seeing her
+future school-fellows arrive one after another. The two first to come
+were a pair of twin sisters named Martha and Mary Lee, so exactly alike
+that they could only be distinguished by a mark which one had on her
+forehead under the hair. There were many other big girls, but none
+besides herself who were parlour-boarders during that quarter. Mary
+soon chose out three to be her special friends; a Miss Poultenham,
+Amelia Reinagle (daughter of an artist who in that day was rather
+celebrated), and Mary Brown--niece of Mrs. Latournelle.
+
+M. and Mme. de St. Quentin presently returned, and Mary tells us how
+shy she felt when "Monsieur" summoned her to undergo a sort of
+examination. "Full well I remember the morning when he called me into
+his study to feel the pulse of my intellect, as he said, in order that
+he might know in what class to place me. All the girls whom he
+particularly instructed were standing by, all of them being superior to
+me in the knowledge of those things usually taught in schools. Behold
+me, then, in imagination, tall as I am now, standing before my master,
+and blushing till my blushes made me ashamed to look up. '_Eh bien_,
+mademoiselle,' he said, 'have you much knowledge of French?' 'No, sir,'
+I answered. 'Are you much acquainted with history?' And he went on from
+one thing to another, asking me questions, and always receiving a
+negative. At length, smiling, he said: 'Tell me, mademoiselle, then,
+what you do know.' I stammered 'Latin--Virgil,' and finished off with a
+regular flood of tears. At this he laughed outright, and immediately
+set me down in his class and gave me lessons for every day."
+
+The discipline of the Abbey seems to have been very slack, especially
+for the big girls. This is how Mary describes it: "The liberty which
+the first class had was so great that, if we attended our tutor in his
+study for an hour or two every morning, no human being ever took the
+trouble to enquire where we spent the rest of the day between our
+meals. Thus, whether we gossiped in one turret or another, whether we
+lounged about the garden or out of the window above the gateway, no one
+so much as said, 'Where have you been, mademoiselle?'"
+
+Mary Butt spent a year at Reading, where she learnt a good deal of
+French, and not, it would seem, much of anything else. She left it the
+following Christmas with many tears, thinking that her school-days were
+over; but a few months later her parents decided to send her back to
+the Abbey for another year, and that her sister Lucy should go too.
+That was in the autumn of 1792, when the French Revolution was just
+beginning. On January 21, 1793, the terrible news came of the murder of
+the unhappy King, Louis XVI. All Europe, and England especially, were
+horrified at the cruel deed; and at the Abbey, where there was a strong
+French Royalist element, feeling ran particularly high. "Monsieur and
+Madame went into deep mourning, as did also many of the elder girls.
+Multitudes of the French nobility came thronging into Reading,
+gathering about the Abbey, and some of them half living within its
+walls." Our friend Mary, as a half-fledged young lady, saw a great deal
+of these poor refugees, who had lost everything but their lives. They
+seem, however, to have shown the true French courage and gaiety under
+evil circumstances. There was much singing and playing under the trees;
+and they helped the school-girls to get up some little French plays to
+act at their breaking-up party. Mary took a part in the character of a
+French abbess, but she tells us that "assuredly" her talents never lay
+in the acting line, and very honestly adds: "I could never sufficiently
+have forgotten myself as to have acted well."
+
+Soon after Mary's finally leaving school her parents decided to put a
+curate in charge of the Kidderminster living, and to return to "lovely
+Stanford." This was a great relief to poor, shy Mrs. Butt, who had been
+like a caged bird in Kidderminster; but the young people were not quite
+sure if they liked the change. They had made many friends in the town
+and its neighbourhood; and now that Mary was, as we say nowadays, "come
+out," she had been taken to various balls and other diversions. They
+soon, however, settled down again in the old home; and as there was a
+large, delightful, and very friendly family at Stanford Court hard by,
+they found plenty of variety and amusement even in the depths of the
+country.
+
+The young Butts went across very often to dine at the Court; and on
+these occasions their hostess, Lady Winnington, got up little impromptu
+dances, which they greatly enjoyed. "Often," Mary writes, "when we
+dined at the Court she would send for the miller, who played the
+violin, and set us all to dance. My brother was always the partner of
+the eldest Miss Winnington, and as neither of them could tell one tune
+from another or dance a single step, we generally marvelled how they
+got on at all. The steward also, a great, big, and in our opinion most
+supremely ugly man, generally fell to my sister's lot. Thus, we did
+very well, and enjoyed ourselves in our own way. Sometimes the old
+Welsh harper came, and then we had a more set dance, and some of the
+ladies'-maids, and one or two of the upper men-servants, and the miller
+himself, and Mr. Taylor of the Fall, and the miller's brother Tommy,
+were asked, and then things were carried on in a superior style. We
+went into a larger room, and there was more change of partners; but as
+nothing could have induced the son and heir to ask a stranger, I always
+had him, whilst Miss Winnington and my sister sometimes fell to the
+share of the miller and his brother, the miller being himself musical
+and footing it to the tune better than his partners. The miller's
+brother seemed to wheel along rather than dance, throwing himself back
+and looking, in his white waistcoat which was kept for these grand
+occasions, not unlike a sack of meal set upright on trucks and so
+pushed about the room. I am ready to laugh to this hour when I think of
+these balls, and I certainly obtained very high celebrity then and
+there for being something very superior in the dancing line."
+
+The happy life at Stanford was not destined to last long, for Mr.
+Butt's health began to fail, and in the autumn of 1795 he died. Mrs.
+Butt took a house at Bridgnorth, and settled there with her two
+daughters. Mary had now begun to write in good earnest; and while
+living at Bridgnorth two of her tales were published, one called
+_Margarita_ and the other _Susan Grey_. Probably very few people now
+living have ever seen or read these stories; and if we did come across
+them it is to be feared we should think them very dull and long-winded.
+But when new they were much admired, particularly _Susan Grey_, which
+was one of the earliest tales written to interest rich and educated
+people in the poor and ignorant. It was widely read and reprinted many
+and many times.
+
+In spite of the pleasure and excitement of authorship, life in the
+little house in the sleepy town of Bridgnorth was very dull and cramped
+to the two young girls; and they were made much happier, because they
+were much busier, when the clergyman of one of the town churches asked
+them to undertake the management of his Sunday school. This is what
+Sunday school teaching meant at the end of the eighteenth century: "We
+attended the school so diligently on the Sunday that the parents
+brought the children in crowds, and we were obliged to stop short when
+each of us had about thirty-five girls and the old schoolmaster as many
+boys. We made bonnets and tippets for our girls; we walked with them to
+church; we looked them up in the week days; we were vastly busy; we
+were first amused, and next deeply interested."--"Sunday schools," she
+goes on to say, "then were comparatively new things, so that our
+attentions were more valued then than they would be nowadays."
+
+The next important event in Mary's life was her marriage with her
+cousin Henry, by which she became the "Mrs. Sherwood" whose name has
+been a household word to generations of children. Henry Sherwood had
+had a curious history, and had endured many hardships and adventures in
+his youthful days. As a boy of about thirteen he had made a voyage on
+a rotten old French coasting-vessel, which was very nearly wrecked; was
+run into in the night by an unknown ship; and all but foundered in the
+Bay of Biscay. The French Revolution had just begun; and when the brig
+touched at Marseilles this young lad saw terrible sights of men hung
+from lamp-posts; heard the grisly cry, "Ŕ la lanterne! ŕ la lanterne!"
+and was even himself seized by some of the mob, though he happily
+contrived, in the confusion, to slip away. In Marseilles, too, he first
+saw the guillotine; it was carried about the streets in procession
+whilst the populace yelled out the "Marseillaise Hymn." Later on in the
+Revolution he was seized, as an Englishman, and imprisoned with a
+number of others at Abbeville; but, escaping from there, he made a
+wonderful journey through France, Switzerland, and Germany with his
+father, step-mother, and their five young children; being driven by the
+state of affairs from town to town, and wandering further and further
+afield in the effort to reach England. At length, after difficulties
+and hardships innumerable, they landed at Hull; and Henry made his way
+to some of his relations, who took care of him and set him on his legs
+again.
+
+Henry Sherwood soon afterwards entered the army, joining the regiment
+then known as the 53rd Foot; and about the same time he began to come
+to Bridgnorth, where his pretty young cousin, Mary Butt, was growing
+more and more attractive. After a while he wrote her a letter, asking
+if she would be his wife; and on June 30, 1803, they were married at
+Bridgnorth.
+
+Mary's marriage made a great change in her life. She had married into
+what used to be called a "marching regiment," which was constantly on
+the move from one station to another. After being transferred from
+place to place several times within a year, with long, wearisome
+journeys both by sea and land, following the regiment as it marched,
+the news came that the 53rd was ordered on foreign service, which meant
+a longer journey still. It was presently known that the regiment's
+destination was the East Indies, or, as we should now call it, India.
+This was a great blow to poor Mrs. Sherwood, for by this time she was
+the mother of a baby girl, whom she must leave behind in England.
+
+The regiment embarked at Portsmouth. Captain and Mrs. Sherwood had a
+miserable little cabin rigged up on deck, made only of canvas, and with
+a huge gun filling more than half the space. The vessel in which they
+sailed was called the _Devonshire_. It was quite a fleet that set sail,
+for besides the vessels needed to convey the troops, there had to be
+several armed cruisers in attendance. The war with France was going on,
+and there was continual danger of an attack by the enemy. When they had
+been more than three months at sea, three strange vessels were sighted,
+two of which soon ran up the French colours and began to fire, without
+the slightest warning, upon the English vessels. In a moment all was
+bustle on board the _Devonshire_, clearing the decks for action. The
+women and children were sent down into the hold, where they had to sit
+for hours in the dark, some way below watermark, while the shots
+whistled through the rigging overhead, the guns roared, the ladders had
+been taken away, and none of them could learn a word of what was going
+forward on deck, where their husbands and fathers were helping to man
+the guns. The fighting continued till late at night, but no serious
+damage befell the _Devonshire_. At length the women and children were
+hoisted up out of the hold, and "enjoyed some negus and biscuits."
+
+From that time they saw no more of the French. At last the voyage, with
+its anxieties and discomforts, was over; the _Devonshire_ sailed into
+the Hoogli and anchored in Diamond Harbour, expecting boats to come
+down from Calcutta to carry the regiment up there.
+
+It would take too long to tell the story of the Sherwoods' life in
+India, though Mrs. Sherwood's account of it is very good reading. Two
+or three scenes will give you some notion of how she spent her time.
+
+A certain number of the soldiers of the regiment were allowed to bring
+their wives and children out with them. There were no Government
+schools then for the regimental children, so that these little people
+idled away their time round the barracks, and were as ignorant as the
+day they were born. It came into Mrs. Sherwood's head to start a school
+for them, and this school she herself taught for four hours every
+morning, except in the very hottest weather; and the only help she had
+was from a sergeant of the regiment, a kind, good man. Some of the
+officers also were very thankful to send their children to school, so
+that Mrs. Sherwood soon had as many as fifty boys and girls coming
+daily to her bungalow. Very hard work it was teaching them to read and
+write and to be gentle, truthful, and obedient. She found the officers'
+children generally more troublesome than the soldiers', because they
+were more spoilt, or, as she puts it, pampered and indulged. For these
+children she wrote many of her books, especially her _Stories on the
+Church Catechism_, which can still be bought, and which give a very
+interesting picture of the life of a soldier's child in India some
+eighty years ago.
+
+Besides her day-school, Mrs. Sherwood collected in her house several
+little orphans, the children of poor soldiers' wives who quickly died
+in the trying climate of India. She found some of these children being
+dreadfully neglected and half starved, so took them home to her and
+brought them up with her own children. She gives an amusing description
+of her home life in India during the hot season, so terribly trying to
+Europeans: "The mode of existence of an English family during the hot
+winds in India is so very unlike anything in Europe that I must not
+omit to describe it. Every outer door of the house and every window is
+closed; all the interior doors and venetians are, however, open, whilst
+most of the private apartments are shut in by drop-curtains or screens
+of grass, looking like fine wire-work, partially covered with green
+silk. The hall, which never has any other than borrowed lights in any
+bungalow, is always in the centre of the house, and ours at Cawnpore
+had a large room on each side of it, with baths and sleeping-rooms. In
+the hot winds I always sat in the hall at Cawnpore. Though I was that
+year without a baby of my own, I had my orphan, my little Annie, always
+by me, quietly occupying herself when not actually receiving
+instruction from me. I had given her a good-sized box, painted green,
+with a lock and key; she had a little chair and table.
+
+"She was the neatest of all neat little people, somewhat faddy and
+particular, perchance. She was the child, of all others, to live with
+an ancient grandmother. Annie's treasures were few, but they were all
+contained in her green box. She never wanted occupation; she was either
+dressing her doll or finding pretty verses in her Bible, marking the
+places with an infinitude of minute pieces of paper. It was a great
+delight to me to have this little quiet one by my side.
+
+"In another part of this hall sat Mr. Sherwood during most part of the
+morning, either engaged with his accounts, his journal, or his books.
+He, of course, did not like the confinement so well as I did, and often
+contrived to get out to a neighbour's bungalow in his palanquin during
+some part of the long morning. In one of the side-rooms sat Sergeant
+Clarke, with his books and accounts. This worthy and most methodical
+personage used to fill up his time in copying my manuscripts in a very
+neat hand, and in giving lessons in reading and spelling, etc., to
+Annie. In the other room was the orphan Sally, with her toys. Beside
+her sat her attendant, chewing her paun[A] and enjoying a state of
+perfect apathy. Thus did our mornings pass, whilst we sat in what the
+lovers of broad daylight would call almost darkness. During these
+mornings we heard no sounds but the monotonous click, click of the
+punkah,[B] or the melancholy moaning of the burning blast without, with
+the splash and dripping of the water thrown over the tatties.[C] At one
+o'clock, or perhaps somewhat later, the tiffin [answering to our
+luncheon] was always served, a hot dinner, in fact, consisting always
+of curry and a variety of vegetables. We often dined at this hour, the
+children at a little table in the room, after which we all lay down,
+the adults on sofas and the children on the floor, under the punkah in
+the hall. At four, or later perhaps, we had coffee brought. We then
+bathed and dressed, and at six or thereabouts, the wind generally
+falling, the tatties were removed, the doors and windows of the house
+were opened, and we either took an airing in carriages or sat in the
+veranda; but the evenings and nights of the hot winds brought no
+refreshment."
+
+The days spent in that strange hot twilight must have seemed very long
+to children, even to those who had forgotten or never known the freedom
+of life in England; but Mrs. Sherwood had plenty of ways of filling her
+long quiet hours. She wrote a number of little stories about life in
+India, which were very much liked in their day and went through many
+editions. One of these was called _The Ayah and Lady_, and told about a
+native servant, her ignorant notions and strange ways, and how her
+mistress tried to do her good. Another was _Lucy and her Dhaye_, the
+history of a little English girl and her dark-skinned nurse, who was so
+devoted to her that she nearly broke her heart when Lucy went home to
+England and she was left behind. But the best of them all was _Little
+Henry and his Bearer_, which is one of the most famous stories ever
+written for children. The history of little Henry, the neglected orphan
+child whom nobody loved save his poor faithful heathen "bearer," or
+native servant, is exceedingly pretty and touching.
+
+Mrs. Sherwood was always thinking about children and trying to find out
+ways of helping them to be happy and good. A page from her diary will
+show how often she must have been grieved and distressed at the spoilt
+boys and girls she saw in the houses of the English merchants and Civil
+servants at Calcutta and elsewhere.
+
+"I must now proceed," she writes, "to some description of Miss Louisa,
+the eldest daughter then in India of our friends, who at that time
+might have been about six or seven. She was tall of her age, very
+brown, and very pale. She had been entirely reared in India, and was
+accustomed from her earliest infancy to be attended by a multitude of
+servants, whom she despised thoroughly as being black, although, no
+doubt, she preferred their society to her own country-people, as they
+ministered with much flattery and servility to her wants. Wherever she
+had moved during these first years of her life she had been followed by
+her ayah, and probably by one or two bearers, and she was perfectly
+aware that if she got into any mischief they would be blamed and not
+herself. In the meantime, except in the article of food, every desire
+and every caprice and every want had been indulged to satiety. No one
+who has not seen it could imagine the profusion of toys which are
+scattered about an Indian house wherever the 'babalogue' (children
+people) are permitted to range. There may be seen fine polished and
+painted toys from Benares, in which all the household utensils of the
+country, the fruits, and even the animals, are represented, the last
+most ludicrously incorrect. Toys in painted clay from Morshedabad and
+Calcutta, representing figures of gods and goddesses, with horses,
+camels, elephants, peacocks, and parrots, and now and then a 'tope
+walla,' or hat wearer, as they call the English, in full regimentals
+and cocked hat, seated on a clumsy, ill-formed thing meant for a horse.
+Then add to these English, French, and Dutch toys, which generally lie
+pell-mell in every corner where the listless, toy-satiated child may
+have thrown or kicked them.
+
+"The quantity of inner and outer garments worn by a little girl in
+England would render it extremely fatiguing to change the dress so
+often as our little ladies are required to do in India. Miss Louisa's
+attire consisted of a single garment, a frock body without sleeves,
+attached to a pair of trousers, with rather a short, full skirt
+gathered into the body with the trousers, so as to form one whole, the
+whole being ruffled with the finest jindelly, a cloth which is not
+unlike cambric, every ruffle being plaited in the most delicate manner.
+These ruffles are doubled and trebled on the top of the arm, forming
+there a substitute for a sleeve; and the same is done around the ankle,
+answering the purpose almost of a stocking, or at least concealing its
+absence. Fine coloured kid shoes ought to have completed this attire,
+but it most often happened that these were kicked away among the
+rejected toys.
+
+"How many times in a day the dress of Miss Louisa was renewed, who
+shall say? It, however, depended much upon the accidents which might
+happen to it; but four times was the usual arrangement, which was once
+before breakfast, once after, once again before tiffin, and once again
+for the evening airing. The child, being now nearly seven years old,
+was permitted to move about the house independently of her ayah; thus,
+she was sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the veranda, sometimes in
+one room, sometimes in another. In an Indian house in the hot season no
+inner door is ever shut, and curtains only are hung in the doorways, so
+that this little wild one was in and out and everywhere just as it hit
+her fancy. She had never been taught even to know her letters; she had
+never been kept to any task; she was a complete slave of idleness,
+restlessness, and ennui. 'It is time for Louisa to go to England,' was
+quietly remarked by the parents; and no one present controverted the
+point."
+
+Children like this must have made the good Mrs. Sherwood very unhappy;
+her own little ones--of whom she had three who lived to come home to
+England--were very differently brought up. She had also a lovely little
+boy named Henry, and a little fair-haired Lucy, who both died in India
+before they were two years old.
+
+It would be impossible to end even this short sketch of Mrs. Sherwood's
+Indian life without mentioning her friendship with Henry Martyn, that
+saintly soul and famous missionary in India and Persia. When the
+Sherwoods knew him he was Government chaplain at Dinapore, a great
+military station, at which the 53rd Foot then was. Mrs. Sherwood nursed
+him through a bad illness, and she and her husband afterwards paid him
+a visit in his quarters at Cawnpore, to which place he had been
+transferred. He had a school at Cawnpore for little native children;
+and worked hard at preaching to the heathen; while all the time doing
+his utmost for the soldiers of the various regiments stationed in the
+barracks. The Sherwoods heard his wonderful farewell sermon before
+starting for Persia; and the news of his death in that far land reached
+them not long before they quitted India for England.
+
+After being about twelve years in the East, the 53rd Regiment was
+ordered home, and very thankful Captain and Mrs. Sherwood were to bring
+the children they still had living safely back to a more healthy
+climate. Two of the orphans came with them, so there was quite a party
+of little people on board the ship; and when they landed at Liverpool
+they must have been a very quaint-looking group, for "we had not a
+bonnet in the party; we all wore caps trimmed with lace, white dresses,
+and Indian shawls." Can we wonder if, as Mrs. Sherwood goes on to say,
+"we were followed wherever we went by hundreds of the residents of
+Liverpool"?
+
+The rest of Mrs. Sherwood's long life was spent in England, save for an
+occasional visit to France and Switzerland. She and her husband settled
+in the west, where she had been born and bred, and of which she was so
+fond. She had more children, most of whom died young; and she lived a
+very busy, active, useful life, working hard at writing stories and
+tracts, visiting the prison at Worcester, and doing whatever good and
+useful work lay within her power.
+
+The first part of the _Fairchild Family_ was published in 1818. It was
+so popular that, more than twenty years afterwards, she wrote a second
+part, which, as you will see, begins at p. 150. As we read we shall
+notice little points of difference between it and the first part; but
+our friends, Lucy, Emily, and Henry are just as nice and as naughty, as
+good and as silly, as they were in the opening chapters of the book.
+
+A few years later, when a very old woman, Mrs. Sherwood wrote a third
+part of the _Fairchild Family_, in which she was helped by her
+daughter, Mrs. Kelly. But this third part is less entertaining and
+interesting than the two which went before it, and is also not entirely
+Mrs. Sherwood's own work; so you will not find it printed here.
+
+In 1851 Mrs. Sherwood died at Twickenham, where she had gone to live a
+few years previously. In the course of her long life she had seen many
+trials and sorrows, but she had had a great deal of happiness. She had
+made the very most of all the gifts given her by God. Countless
+children have been the happier and the better for what she wrote for
+them. And by means of this new edition of a dear old book, with its
+pleasant type and charming illustrations, I hope a new generation will
+spring up of lovers and admirers of Mrs. Sherwood.
+
+MARY E. PALGRAVE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Described in _Little Henry and his Bearer_ as "an intoxicating
+mixture of opium and sugar."
+
+[B] The huge fan, hanging from the ceiling, by which the air of houses
+in India is kept moving.
+
+[C] The "tatta" is a blind, or screen, woven of sweet-smelling grass,
+which is kept constantly wet by the water-carriers.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Contents
+
+
+                                                                PAGE
+
+  INTRODUCTION                                                    ix
+
+
+  PART I
+
+  THE BIRTHDAY WALK                                                3
+
+  MRS. FAIRCHILD'S STORY                                           9
+
+  ON ENVY                                                         19
+
+  STORY OF THE APPLES                                             25
+
+  STORY OF AN UNHAPPY DAY                                         34
+
+  STORY OF AMBITION; OR, THE WISH TO BE GREAT                     45
+
+  THE ALL-SEEING GOD                                              59
+
+  EMILY'S RECOVERY, AND THE OLD STORY OF MRS. HOWARD              67
+
+  SAD STORY OF A DISOBEDIENT CHILD                                84
+
+  THE TWO BOOKS                                                   87
+
+  THE HISTORY OF THE ORPHAN BOY                                   92
+
+  THE HISTORY OF LITTLE HENRI                                    107
+
+  A STORY OF BESETTING SINS                                      131
+
+  A VISIT TO MARY BUSH                                           143
+
+
+  PART II
+
+  STORY OF MISS CROSBIE'S PRESENTS                               150
+
+  A VISIT TO MRS. GOODRICHE                                      159
+
+  STORY OF THE LAST DAYS OF MRS. HOWARD                          162
+
+  THE FAIR LITTLE LADY                                           181
+
+  STORY OF A HOLIDAY                                             184
+
+  LITTLE EDWY AND THE ECHO                                       189
+
+  FURTHER STORY OF A HOLIDAY                                     203
+
+  THE HAPPY EVENING                                              216
+
+  BREAKFAST AT MR. BURKE'S                                       222
+
+  THE UNRULY FAMILY                                              228
+
+  STORY OF HENRY'S ADVENTURE                                     238
+
+  THE STORY IN EMILY'S BOOK. (PART I.)                           245
+
+  THE STORY IN EMILY'S BOOK. (PART II.)                          258
+
+  GUESTS AT MR. FAIRCHILD'S                                      286
+
+  MORE ABOUT BESSY                                               300
+
+  BESSY'S MISFORTUNES                                            313
+
+  HISTORY OF LITTLE BERNARD LOW. (PART I.)                       326
+
+  HISTORY OF LITTLE BERNARD LOW. (PART II.)                      341
+
+  HISTORY OF LITTLE BERNARD LOW. (PART III.)                     354
+
+  THE BIRTHDAY FEAST                                             382
+
+  GRANDMAMMA FAIRCHILD                                           400
+
+  GREAT CHANGES                                                  408
+
+  GRANDMAMMA AND THE CHILDREN                                    416
+
+  HISTORY OF EVELYN VAUGHAN. (PART I.)                           421
+
+  HISTORY OF EVELYN VAUGHAN. (PART II.)                          446
+
+  FAREWELL TO THE OLD HOME                                       464
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+List of illustrations
+
+
+                                                                PAGE
+
+  FRONTISPIECE--Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children,
+      Lucy, Emily and Henry.
+
+  Good children                                                    3
+
+  They ran on before                                               5
+
+  Here were abundance of flowers                                   8
+
+  "I sat down on one of the branches to eat cherries"              9
+
+  Mrs. Grace taught me to sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught me to
+      read                                                        11
+
+  "How lovely! How beautiful!"                                    19
+
+  She saw that it was a ring                                      24
+
+  Henry stood under the apple-tree                                25
+
+  There was one he could just reach                               27
+
+  Behind the stable                                               33
+
+  Lucy and Emily                                                  34
+
+  Away he ran into the garden, followed by Lucy and Emily         37
+
+  They went along the great gallery                               45
+
+  Emily and Lucy had never seen such fine clothes before          53
+
+  Dressed                                                         58
+
+  At last she fell asleep                                         59
+
+  She took two or three damsons, which she ate in great haste     61
+
+  "What sound is that I hear?" said Emily                         67
+
+  Emily and her brother and sister went to play in the garden     69
+
+  "I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk slip"    75
+
+  Looking in the glass, with a candle in her hand                 84
+
+  "Please choose a book for me"                                   87
+
+  Henry reads the story                                           91
+
+  Marten behaved well at breakfast                                92
+
+  A little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown, came into the
+      kitchen                                                     99
+
+  Marten goes to school                                          106
+
+  Henri stood at the window                                      107
+
+  "Do you remember anything of the sermon?"                      131
+
+  Miss Betsy                                                     142
+
+  The children looked at the kittens                             143
+
+  Drinking tea at the door of the cottage, round the little
+      table                                                      147
+
+  Miss Crosbie spoke kindly to her                               150
+
+  In the summer parlour                                          159
+
+  When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied            162
+
+  The happy little girls went with the dolls into the
+      bow-window                                                 175
+
+  The coach came in sight                                        181
+
+  Henry looked along the road                                    184
+
+  He turned away from the terrible bird                          189
+
+  Could it be her own--her Edwy? She could hardly be sure of
+      her happiness                                              199
+
+  "Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"                                202
+
+  "She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily                  203
+
+  Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little children       213
+
+  The magpie on the stile                                        215
+
+  Preparing the peas for supper                                  216
+
+  A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering                   222
+
+  They had a game at marbles                                     228
+
+  The noise continued till the two brothers were fairly out of
+      the house                                                  231
+
+  Kind Mrs. Burke gave him a piece of bread and honey            238
+
+  Lucy and Emily had now each a doll                             245
+
+  Going gaily down the hill                                      258
+
+  Margot rose and made a curtsey                                 263
+
+  Meeta offered to carry the honey                               285
+
+  "She does not know that I made a slit in my frock"             286
+
+  Cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead leaves      297
+
+  Off she ran after him                                          299
+
+  She saw Bessy amongst some gooseberry bushes                   300
+
+  "What! what!" cried Mrs. Goodriche                             303
+
+  Bessy was crying most piteously                                313
+
+  "At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and Miss
+      Lucy"                                                      319
+
+  Bessy was very sorry to leave her young friends                326
+
+  But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a to-do     333
+
+  "Let us sit here under the shade of a tree"                    341
+
+  He took up a slip of wood                                      353
+
+  There was no end of the indulgences given in private to
+      the boy                                                    354
+
+  Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla                                 381
+
+  She only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+      well                                                       382
+
+  For a long time they were all very still with their toys       387
+
+  In their neatest morning dress                                 399
+
+  "Will Lucy love me?" said the old lady                         400
+
+  "Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like"                     408
+
+  It was Emily's step                                            415
+
+  Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories           416
+
+  A hundred years ago                                            420
+
+  To teach little Francis his letters                            421
+
+  "I cannot tell what the child's head is running on"            431
+
+  To hang flowers round its neck                                 445
+
+  Miss Anne Vaughan led her niece by the hand                    446
+
+  "What a bustle there is to get ready on a dancing day"         451
+
+  Henry reminded her of the robin                                464
+
+  Someone was waving something white                             470
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Fairchild Family]
+
+
+
+
+  The
+  History of the Fairchild Family
+
+
+
+
+Part I
+
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild lived very far from any town; their house stood
+in the midst of a garden, which in the summer-time was full of fruit
+and sweet flowers. Mr. Fairchild kept only two servants, Betty and
+John: Betty's business was to clean the house, cook the dinner, and
+milk the cow; and John waited at table, worked in the garden, fed the
+pig, and took care of the meadow in which the cow grazed.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children: Lucy, who was about nine
+years old when these stories began; Emily, who was next in age; and
+Henry, who was between six and seven. These little children did not go
+to school: Mrs. Fairchild taught Lucy and Emily, and Mr. Fairchild
+taught little Henry. Lucy and Emily learned to read, and to do various
+kinds of needlework. Lucy had begun to write, and took great pains with
+her writing; their mother also taught them to sing psalms and hymns,
+and they could sing several very sweetly. Little Henry, too, had a
+great notion of singing.
+
+Besides working and reading, the little girls could do many useful
+things; they made their beds, rubbed the chairs and tables in their
+rooms, fed the fowls; and when John was busy, they laid the cloth for
+dinner, and were ready to fetch anything which their parents might
+want.
+
+Mr. Fairchild taught Henry everything that was proper for little boys
+in his station to learn; and when he had finished his lessons in a
+morning, his papa used to take him very often to work in the garden;
+for Mr. Fairchild had great pleasure in helping John to keep the garden
+clean. Henry had a little basket, and he used to carry the weeds and
+rubbish in his basket out of the garden, and do many such other little
+things as he was set to do.
+
+I must not forget to say that Mr. Fairchild had a school for poor boys
+in the next village, and Mrs. Fairchild one for girls. I do not mean
+that they taught the children entirely themselves, but they paid a
+master and mistress to teach them; and they used to take a walk two or
+three times a week to see the children, and to give rewards to those
+who had behaved well. When Lucy and Emily and Henry were obedient,
+their parents were so kind as to let them go with them to see the
+schools; and then they always contrived to have some little thing ready
+to carry with them as presents to the good children.
+
+
+
+
+The Birthday Walk
+
+[Illustration: Good children]
+
+
+"It is Lucy's birthday," said Mr. Fairchild, as he came into the
+parlour one fine morning in May; "we will go to see John Trueman, and
+take some cake to his little children, and afterwards we will go on to
+visit Nurse, and carry her some tea and sugar."
+
+Nurse was a pious old woman, who had taken care of Lucy when she was a
+baby, and now lived with her son and his wife Joan in a little cottage
+not far distant, called Brookside Cottage, because a clear stream of
+water ran just before the door.
+
+"And shall we stay at Nurse's all day, papa?" said the children.
+
+"Ask your mamma, my dears," said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"With all my heart," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we will take Betty with
+us to carry our dinner."
+
+So when the children had breakfasted, and Betty was ready, they all set
+out. And first they went down the lane towards John Trueman's cottage.
+There is not a pleasanter lane near any village in England; the hedge
+on each side is of hawthorn, which was then in blossom, and the grass
+was soft under the feet as a velvet cushion; on the bank, under the
+hedge, were all manner of sweet flowers, violets, and primroses, and
+the blue vervain.
+
+Lucy and Emily and Henry ran gaily along before Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild,
+and Betty came after with the basket. Before they came up to the gate
+of John Trueman's cottage, the children stopped to take the cake out of
+Betty's basket, and to cut shares of it for John's little ones. Whilst
+they were doing this, their father and mother had reached the cottage,
+and were sitting down at the door when they came up.
+
+John Trueman's cottage was a neat little place, standing in a garden,
+adorned with pinks and rosemary and southernwood. John himself was gone
+out to his daily work when Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild came to his house;
+but his wife Mary was at home, and was just giving a crust of bread and
+a bit of cheese to a very poor woman who had stopped at the gate with a
+baby in her arms.
+
+"Why, Mary," said Mr. Fairchild, "I hope it is a sign that you are
+getting rich, as you have bread and cheese to spare."
+
+"Sir," she answered, "this poor woman is in want, and my children will
+never miss what I have given her."
+
+"You are very right," answered Mrs. Fairchild; and at the same time she
+slipped a shilling into the poor woman's hand.
+
+John and Mary Trueman had six children: the eldest, Thomas, was working
+in the garden; and little Billy, his youngest brother, who was but
+three years old, was carrying out the weeds as his brother plucked them
+up; Mary, the eldest daughter, was taking care of the baby; and Kitty,
+the second, sat sewing: whilst her brother Charles, a little boy of
+seven years of age, read the Bible aloud to her. They were all neat and
+clean, though dressed in very coarse clothes.
+
+When Lucy and Emily and Henry divided the cake amongst the poor
+children, they looked very much pleased; but they said that they would
+not eat any of it till their father came in at night.
+
+"If that is the case," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you shall have a little
+tea and sugar to give your father with your cake;" so she gave them
+some out of the basket.
+
+As Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and their children passed through the village
+they stopped at the schools, and found everything as they could
+wish--the children all clean, neat, cheerful, and busy, and the master
+and mistress very attentive. They were much pleased to see everything
+in such good order in the schools, and having passed this part of the
+village, they turned aside into a large meadow, through which was the
+path to Nurse's cottage. Many sheep with their lambs were feeding in
+this meadow, and here also were abundance of primroses, cowslips,
+daisies, and buttercups, and the songs of the birds which were in the
+hedgerows were exceedingly delightful.
+
+[Illustration: "_They ran on before._"--Page 7.]
+
+As soon as the children came in sight of Nurse's little cottage they
+ran on before to kiss Nurse, and to tell her that they were come to
+spend the day with her. The poor woman was very glad, because she loved
+Mr. Fairchild's children very dearly; she therefore kissed them, and
+took them to see her little grandson Tommy, who was asleep in the
+cradle. By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and Betty were come up, and
+whilst Betty prepared the dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild sat talking
+with Nurse at the door of the cottage.
+
+Betty and Joan laid the cloth upon the fresh grass before the
+cottage-door, and when Joan had boiled some potatoes, Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild sat down to dinner with the children, after which the
+children went to play in the meadow by the brookside till it was time
+for them to be going home.
+
+"What a happy day we have had!" said Lucy as she walked home between
+her father and mother. "Everything has gone well with us since we set
+out, and everyone we have seen has been kind and good to us; and the
+weather has been so fine, and everything looks so pretty all around
+us!"
+
+[Illustration: "_Here were abundance of flowers._"--Page 7.]
+
+
+
+
+Mrs. Fairchild's Story
+
+[Illustration: "I sat down on one of the branches to eat cherries"]
+
+
+The next morning, when Lucy and Emily were sitting at work with Mrs.
+Fairchild, Henry came in from his father's study.
+
+"I have finished all my lessons, mamma," he said. "I have made all the
+haste I could because papa said that you would tell us a story to-day;
+and now I am come to hear it."
+
+So Henry placed himself before his mother, and Lucy and Emily
+hearkened, whilst Mrs. Fairchild told her story.
+
+"My mother died," said Mrs. Fairchild, "many years ago, when I was a
+very little child--so little that I remember nothing more of her than
+being taken to kiss her when she lay sick in bed. Soon afterwards I can
+recollect seeing her funeral procession go out of the garden-gate as I
+stood in the nursery window; and I also remember some days afterwards
+being taken to strew flowers upon her grave in the village churchyard.
+
+"After my mother's death my father sent me to live with my aunts, Mrs.
+Grace and Mrs. Penelope, two old ladies, who, having never been
+married, had no families to take up their attention, and were so kind
+as to undertake to bring me up. These old ladies lived near the
+pleasant town of Reading. I fancy I can see the house now, although it
+is many years since I left it. It was a handsome old mansion, for my
+aunts were people of good fortune. In the front of it was a shrubbery,
+neatly laid out with gravel walks, and behind it was a little rising
+ground, where was an arbour, in which my aunts used to drink tea on a
+fine afternoon, and where I often went to play with my doll. My aunts'
+house and garden were very neat; there was not a weed to be seen in the
+gravel walks or among the shrubs, nor anything out of its place in the
+house. My aunts themselves were nice and orderly, and went on from day
+to day in the same manner, and, as far as they knew, they were good
+women; but they knew very little about religion, and what people do not
+understand they cannot practise.
+
+[Illustration: "_Mrs. Grace taught me to sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught
+me to read._"--Page 10.]
+
+"I was but a very little girl when I came to live with my aunts, and
+they kept me under their care till I was married. As far as they knew
+what was right, they took great pains with me. Mrs. Grace taught me to
+sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught me to read. I had a writing-and
+music-master, who came from Reading to teach me twice a week; and I was
+taught all kinds of household work by my aunts' maid. We spent one day
+exactly like another. I was made to rise early, and to dress myself
+very neatly, to breakfast with my aunts. At breakfast I was not allowed
+to speak one word. After breakfast I worked two hours with my Aunt
+Grace, and read an hour with my Aunt Penelope; we then, if it was fine
+weather, took a walk, or, if not, an airing in the coach--I, and my
+aunts, and little Shock, the lap-dog, together. At dinner I was not
+allowed to speak, and after dinner I attended my masters, or learned my
+tasks. The only time I had to play was while my aunts were dressing to
+go out, for they went out every evening to play at cards. When they
+went out my supper was given to me, and I was put to bed in a closet in
+my aunts' room.
+
+"Now, although my aunts took so much pains with me in their way, I was
+a very naughty girl; I had no good principles."
+
+"What do you mean by good principles?" asked Lucy.
+
+"A person of good principles, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "is one
+who does not do well for fear of the people he lives with, but from the
+fear of God. A child who has good principles will behave just the same
+when his mamma is out of the room as when she is looking at him--at
+least he will wish to do so; and if he is by his own wicked heart at
+any time tempted to sin, he will be grieved, although no person knows
+his sin. But when I lived with my aunts, if I could escape punishment,
+I did not care what naughty things I did.
+
+"My Aunt Grace was very fond of Shock. She used to give me skim-milk at
+breakfast, but she gave Shock cream; and she often made me carry him
+when I went out a-walking. For this reason I hated him, and when we
+were out of my aunts' hearing I used to pull his tail and his ears and
+make the poor little thing howl sadly. My Aunt Penelope had a large
+tabby cat, which I also hated and used ill. I remember once being sent
+out of the dining-room to carry Shock his dinner, Shock being ill, and
+laid on a cushion in my aunts' bedroom. As I was going upstairs I was
+so unfortunate as to break the plate, which was fine blue china. I
+gathered up the pieces, and running up into the room, set them before
+Shock; after which I fetched the cat and shut her up in the room with
+Shock. When my aunts came up after dinner and found the broken plate,
+they were much surprised, and Mrs. Bridget, the favourite maid, was
+called to beat the cat for breaking the plate. I was in my closet and
+heard all that was said, and instead of being sorry, I was glad that
+puss was beaten instead of me.
+
+"Besides those things which I have told you, I did many other naughty
+things. Whenever I was sent into the store-room, where the sugar and
+sweetmeats were kept, I always stole some. I used very often at night,
+when my aunts were gone out, and Mrs. Bridget also (for Mrs. Bridget
+generally went out when her mistress did to see some of her
+acquaintances in the town), to get up and go down into the kitchen,
+where I used to sit upon the housemaid's knee and eat toasted cheese
+and bread sopped in beer. Whenever my aunts found out any of my naughty
+tricks, they used to talk to me of my wickedness, and to tell me that
+if I went on in this manner I certainly should make God very angry.
+When I heard them talk of God's anger I used to be frightened, and
+resolved to do better; but I seldom kept any of my good resolutions.
+From day to day I went on in the same way, getting worse, I think,
+instead of better, until I was twelve years of age.
+
+"One Saturday morning in the middle of summer my aunts called me to
+them and said, 'My dear, we are going from home, and shall not return
+till Monday morning. We cannot take you with us, as we could wish,
+because you have not been invited. Bridget will go with us, therefore
+there will be no person to keep you in order; but we hope, as you are
+not now a little child, that you may be trusted a few days by
+yourself.'
+
+"Then they talked to me of the Commandments of God, and explained them
+to me, and spoke of the very great sin and danger of breaking them; and
+they talked to me till I really felt frightened, and determined that I
+would be good all the while they were from home.
+
+"When the coach was ready my aunts set out, and I took my books and
+went to sit in the arbour with Shock, who was left under my care. I
+stayed in the arbour till evening, when one of the maid-servants
+brought me my supper. I gave part of it to Shock, and, when I had eaten
+the rest, went to bed. As I lay in my bed I felt very glad that I had
+gone through that evening without doing anything I thought naughty, and
+was sure I should do as well the next day.
+
+"The next morning I was awakened by the bells ringing for church. I got
+up, ate my breakfast, and when I was dressed went with the maid to
+church. When we came home my dinner was given me. All this while I had
+kept my aunts' words pretty well in my memory, but they now began to
+wear a little from my mind. When I had done my dinner I went to play in
+the garden.
+
+"Behind the garden, on the hill, was a little field full of
+cherry-trees. Cherries were now quite ripe. My aunts had given me leave
+every day to pick up a few cherries if there were any fallen from the
+trees, but I was not allowed to gather any. Accordingly I went to look
+if there were any cherries fallen. I found a few, and was eating them,
+when I heard somebody call me, 'Miss! Miss!' and, looking up, saw a
+little girl who was employed about the house, in weeding the garden,
+and running errands. My aunts had often forbid me to play or hold any
+discourse with this little girl, which was certainly very proper, as
+the education of the child was very different from that which had been
+given me. I was heedless of this command, and answered her by saying:
+'What are you doing here, Nanny?'
+
+"'There is a ladder, Miss,' she replied, 'against a tree at the upper
+end of the orchard. If you please, I will get up into it and throw you
+down some cherries.'
+
+"At first I said 'No,' and then I said 'Yes.' So Nanny and I repaired
+to the tree in question, and Nanny mounted into the tree.
+
+"'Oh, Miss! Miss!' said she as soon as she had reached the top of the
+ladder, 'I can see from where I am all the town, and both the churches;
+and here is such plenty of cherries! Do come up! Only just step on the
+ladder, and then you can sit on this bough and eat as many cherries as
+you please.'"
+
+"And did you get into the tree, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and sat down on one of the
+branches to eat cherries and look about me."
+
+"Oh, mamma!" said Emily, "suppose your aunts had come home then!"
+
+"You shall hear, my dear," continued Mrs. Fairchild. "My aunts, as I
+thought, and as they expected, were not to come home till the Monday
+morning; but something happened whilst they were out--I forget
+what--which obliged them to return sooner than they had expected, and
+they got home just at the time when I was in the cherry-orchard. They
+called for me, but not finding me immediately, they sent the servants
+different ways to look for me. The person who happened to come to look
+for me in the cherry-orchard was Mrs. Bridget, who was the only one of
+the servants who would have told of me. She soon spied me with Nanny in
+the cherry-tree. She made us both come down, and dragged us by the arms
+into the presence of my aunts, who were exceedingly angry; I think I
+never saw them so angry. Nanny was given up to her mother to be
+punished; and I was shut up in a dark room, where I was kept several
+days upon bread and water. At the end of three days my aunts sent for
+me, and talked to me for a long time.
+
+"'Is it not very strange at your age, niece,' said Mrs. Penelope, 'that
+you cannot be trusted for one day, after all the pains we have taken
+with you, after all we have taught you?'
+
+"'And,' said my Aunt Grace, 'think of the shame and disgrace of
+climbing trees in such low company, after all the care and pains we
+have taken with you, and the delicate manner in which we have reared
+you!'
+
+"In this way they talked to me, whilst I cried very much.
+
+"'Indeed, indeed, Aunt Grace and Aunt Penelope,' I said, 'I did mean to
+behave well when you went out; I made many resolutions, but I broke
+them all; I wished to be good, but I could not be good.'
+
+"When my aunts had talked to me a long time, they forgave me, and I was
+allowed to go about as usual, but I was not happy; I felt that I was
+naughty, and did not know how to make myself good. One afternoon, soon
+after all this had happened, while my aunts and I were drinking tea in
+the parlour, with the window open towards the garden, an old gentleman
+came in at the front gate, whom I had never seen before. He was dressed
+in plain black clothes, exceedingly clean; his gray hair curled about
+his neck, and in his hand he had a strong walking-stick. I was the
+first who saw him, as I was nearest the window, and I called to my
+aunts to look at him.
+
+"'Why, it is my Cousin Thomas!' cried my Aunt Penelope. 'Who would have
+expected to have seen him here?'
+
+"With that both my aunts ran out to meet him and bring him in. The old
+gentleman was a clergyman, and a near relation of our family, and had
+lived many years upon his living in the North, without seeing any of
+his relations.
+
+"'I have often promised to come and see you, cousins,' he said, as
+soon as he was seated, 'but never have been able to bring the matter
+about till now.'
+
+"My aunts told him how glad they were to see him, and presented me to
+him. He received me very kindly, and told me that he remembered my
+mother. The more I saw of this gentleman, the more pleased I was with
+him. He had many entertaining stories to tell; and he spoke of
+everybody in the kindest way possible. He often used to take me out
+with him a-walking, and show me the flowers, and teach me their names.
+One day he went out into the town, and bought a beautiful little Bible
+for me; and when he gave it to me he said: 'Read this, dear child, and
+pray to God to send His Holy Spirit to help you to understand it; and
+it shall be a lamp unto your feet, and a light unto your path.'"
+
+"I know that verse, mamma," said Lucy; "it is in the Psalms."
+
+"The old gentleman stayed with my aunts two months, and every day he
+used to take me with him to walk in the fields, the woods, and in the
+pleasant meadows on the banks of the Thames. His kind words to me at
+those times I shall never forget; he, with God's blessing, brought me
+to the knowledge of my dear Saviour, and showed me the wickedness of my
+own heart, and made me understand that I never could do any good but
+through the help of God."
+
+"When the good old gentleman was gone, did you behave better than you
+did before he came, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"After he left us, my dear, I was very different from what I was
+before," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I had learned to know the weakness of my
+heart, and to ask God to help me to be good; and when I had done wrong,
+I knew whose forgiveness to ask; and I do not think that I ever fell
+into those great sins which I had been guilty of before--such as lying,
+stealing, and deceiving my aunts."
+
+
+
+
+On Envy
+
+[Illustration: "How lovely! How beautiful!"]
+
+
+"Who can go with me to the village this morning," said Mr. Fairchild,
+one winter's day, "to carry this basket of little books to the school?"
+
+"Lucy cannot go," said Mrs. Fairchild, "because her feet are sore with
+chilblains, and Henry has a bad cold; but Emily can go."
+
+"Make haste, Emily," said Mr. Fairchild, "and put on your thick shoes
+and warm coat, for it is very cold."
+
+As soon as Emily was ready, she set off with her father. It was a very
+cold day, and the ground was quite hard with the frost. Mr. Fairchild
+walked first, and Emily came after him with the little basket. They
+gave the basket to the schoolmaster, and returned. As they were coming
+back, Emily saw something bright upon the ground; and when she stooped
+to pick it up, she saw that it was a ring set round with little white
+shining stones.
+
+"Oh, papa, papa!" she said, "see what I have found! What a beautiful
+ring!"
+
+When Mr. Fairchild looked at it, he was quite surprised.
+
+"Why, my dear," said he, "I think that this is Lady Noble's diamond
+ring; how came it to be lying in this place?"
+
+Whilst they were looking at the ring they heard the sound of a
+carriage; it was Sir Charles Noble's, and Lady Noble was in it.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Fairchild!" she called out of the window of the carriage, "I
+am in great trouble; I have lost my diamond ring, and it is of very
+great value. I went to the village this morning in the carriage, and as
+I came back, pulled off my glove to get sixpence out of my purse to
+give to a poor man somewhere in this lane, and I suppose that my ring
+dropped off at the time. I don't know what I shall do; Sir Charles will
+be sadly vexed."
+
+"Make yourself quite happy, madam," said Mr. Fairchild, "here is your
+ring; Emily just this moment picked it up."
+
+Lady Noble was exceedingly glad when she received back her ring. She
+thanked Emily twenty times, and said, "I think I have something in the
+carriage which you will like very much, Miss Emily; it is just come
+from London, and was intended for my daughter Augusta; but I will send
+for another for her."
+
+So saying, she presented Emily with a new doll packed up in paper, and
+with it a little trunk, with a lock and key, full of clothes for the
+doll. Emily was so delighted that she almost forgot to thank Lady
+Noble; but Mr. Fairchild, who was not quite so much overjoyed as his
+daughter, remembered to return thanks for this pretty present.
+
+So Lady Noble put the ring on her finger, and ordered the coachman to
+drive home.
+
+"Oh, papa, papa!" said Emily, "how beautiful this doll is! I have just
+torn the paper a bit, and I can see its face; it has blue eyes and red
+lips, and hair like Henry's. Oh, how beautiful! Please, papa, to carry
+the box for me; I cannot carry both the box and the doll. Oh, this
+beautiful doll! this lovely doll!" So she went on talking till they
+reached home; then she ran before her papa to her mamma and sister and
+brother, and, taking the paper off the doll, cried out: "How beautiful!
+Oh, what pretty hands! What nice feet! What blue eyes! How lovely! how
+beautiful!"
+
+Her mother asked her several times where she had got this pretty doll;
+but Emily was too busy to answer her. When Mr. Fairchild came in with
+the trunk of clothes, he told all the story; how that Lady Noble had
+given Emily the doll for finding her diamond ring.
+
+When Emily had unpacked the doll, she opened the box, which was full of
+as pretty doll's things as ever you saw.
+
+Whilst Emily was examining all these things, Henry stood by admiring
+them and turning them about; but Lucy, after having once looked at the
+doll without touching it, went to a corner of the room, and sat down in
+her little chair without speaking a word.
+
+"Come, Lucy," said Emily, "help me to dress my doll."
+
+"Can't you dress it yourself?" answered Lucy, taking up a little book,
+and pretending to read.
+
+"Come, Lucy," said Henry, "you never saw so beautiful a doll before."
+
+"Don't tease me, Henry," said Lucy; "don't you see I am reading?"
+
+"Put up your book now, Lucy," said Emily, "and come and help me to
+dress this sweet little doll. I will be its mamma, and you shall be its
+nurse, and it shall sleep between us in our bed."
+
+"I don't want dolls in my bed," said Lucy; "don't tease me, Emily."
+
+"Then Henry shall be its nurse," said Emily. "Come, Henry, we will go
+into our play-room, and put this pretty doll to sleep. Will not you
+come, Lucy? Pray do come; we want you very much."
+
+"Do let me alone," answered Lucy; "I want to read."
+
+So Henry and Emily went to play, and Lucy sat still in the corner of
+the parlour. After a few minutes her mamma, who was at work by the
+fire, looked at her, and saw that she was crying; the tears ran down
+her cheeks, and fell upon her book. Then Mrs. Fairchild called Lucy to
+her, and said:
+
+"My dear child, you are crying; can you tell me what makes you
+unhappy?"
+
+"Nothing, mamma," answered Lucy; "I am not unhappy."
+
+"People do not cry when they are pleased and happy, my dear," said Mrs.
+Fairchild.
+
+Lucy stood silent.
+
+"I am your mother, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "and I love you very
+much; if anything vexes you, whom should you tell it to but to your own
+mother?" Then Mrs. Fairchild kissed her, and put her arms round her.
+
+Lucy began to cry more.
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma! dear mamma!" she said, "I don't know what vexes me,
+or why I have been crying."
+
+"Are you speaking the truth?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "Do not hide
+anything from me. Is there anything in your heart, my dear child, do
+you think, which makes you unhappy?"
+
+"Indeed, mamma," said Lucy, "I think there is. I am sorry that Emily
+has got that pretty doll. Pray do not hate me for it, mamma; I know it
+is wicked in me to be sorry that Emily is happy, but I feel that I
+cannot help it."
+
+"My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, "I am glad you have confessed
+the truth to me. Now I will tell you why you feel so unhappy, and I
+will tell you where to seek a cure. The naughty passion you now feel,
+my dear, is what is called Envy. Envy makes persons unhappy when they
+see others happier or better than themselves. Envy is in every man's
+heart by nature. Some people can hide it more than others, and others
+have been enabled, by God's grace, to overcome it in a great degree;
+but, as I said before, it is in the natural heart of all mankind.
+Little children feel envious about dolls and playthings, and men and
+women feel envious about greater things."
+
+"Do you ever feel envious, mamma?" said Lucy. "I never saw you unhappy
+because other people had better things than you had."
+
+"My heart, my dear child," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "is no better than
+yours. There was a time when I was very envious. When I was first
+married I had no children for seven or eight years; I wished very much
+to have a baby, as you wished just now for Emily's doll; and whenever I
+saw a woman with a pretty baby in her arms, I was ready to cry for
+vexation."
+
+"Do you ever feel any envy now, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"I cannot say that I never feel it, my dear; but I bless God that this
+wicked passion has not the power over me which it used to have."
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma!" said Lucy, "how unhappy wickedness makes us! I have
+been very miserable this morning; and what for? only because of the
+naughtiness of my heart, for I have had nothing else to make me
+miserable."
+
+Then Mrs. Fairchild took Lucy by the hand, and went into her closet,
+where they prayed that the Holy Spirit would take the wicked passion of
+envy out of Lucy's heart. And as they prayed in the name of the Lord
+Jesus Christ, who died upon the cross to deliver us from the power of
+sin, they did not doubt but that God would hear their prayer; and
+indeed He did, for from that day Lucy never felt envious of Emily's
+doll, but helped Emily to take care of it and make its clothes, and was
+happy to have it laid on her bed betwixt herself and sister.
+
+[Illustration: "_She saw that it was a ring._"--Page 19.]
+
+
+
+
+Story of the Apples
+
+[Illustration: Henry stood under the apple-tree]
+
+
+Just opposite Mr. Fairchild's parlour window was a young apple-tree,
+which had never yet brought forth any fruit; at length it produced two
+blossoms, from which came two apples. As these apples grew they became
+very beautiful, and promised to be very fine fruit.
+
+"I desire," said Mr. Fairchild, one morning, to his children, "that
+none of you touch the apples on that young tree, for I wish to see what
+kind of fruit they will be when they are quite ripe."
+
+That same evening, as Henry and his sisters were playing in the parlour
+window, Henry said:
+
+"Those are beautiful apples indeed that are upon that tree."
+
+"Do not look upon them, Henry," said Lucy.
+
+"Why not, Lucy?" asked Henry.
+
+"Because papa has forbidden us to meddle with them."
+
+_Henry._ "Well, I am not going to meddle with them; I am only looking
+at them."
+
+_Lucy._ "Oh! but if you look much at them, you will begin to wish for
+them, and may be tempted to take them at last."
+
+_Henry._ "How can you think of any such thing, Lucy? Do you take me for
+a thief?"
+
+The next evening the children were playing again in the parlour window.
+Henry said to his sister, "I dare say that those beautiful apples will
+taste very good when papa gathers them."
+
+"There, now, Henry!" said Lucy; "I told you that the next thing would
+be wishing for those apples. Why do you look at them?"
+
+"Well, and if I do wish for them, is there any harm in that," answered
+Henry, "if I do not touch them?"
+
+_Lucy._ "Oh! but now you have set your heart upon them, the devil may
+tempt you to take one of them, as he tempted Eve to eat the forbidden
+fruit. You should not have looked at them, Henry."
+
+_Henry._ "Oh, I shan't touch the apples! Don't be afraid."
+
+[Illustration: "_There was one he could just reach._"--Page 26.]
+
+Now Henry did not mean to steal the apples, it is true; but when people
+give way to sinful desires, their passions get so much power over them
+that they cannot say, "I will sin so far, and no further." That night,
+whenever Henry awoke, he thought of the beautiful apples. He got up
+before his parents, or his sisters, and went down into the garden.
+There was nobody up but John, who was in the stable. Henry went and
+stood under the apple-tree. He looked at the apples; there was one
+which he could just reach as he stood on his tip-toe. He stretched out
+his hand and plucked it from the tree, and ran with it, as he thought,
+out of sight behind the stable. Having eaten it in haste, he returned
+to the house.
+
+When Mr. Fairchild got up, he went into the garden and looked at the
+apple-tree, and saw that one of the apples was missing; he looked round
+the tree to see if it had fallen down, and he perceived the mark of a
+child's foot under the tree. He came into the house in great haste,
+and looking angrily, "Which of you young ones," said he, "has gathered
+the apple from the young apple-tree? Last night there were two upon the
+tree, and now there is only one."
+
+The children made no answer.
+
+"If you have, any of you, taken the apple, and will tell me the truth,
+I will forgive you," said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"I did not take it, indeed, papa," said Lucy.
+
+"And I did not take it," said Emily.
+
+"I did not--indeed I did not," said Henry; but Henry looked very red
+when he spoke.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Fairchild, "I must call in John, and ask him if he can
+tell who took the apple. But before John is called in, I tell you once
+more, my dear children, that if any of you took the apple and will
+confess it, even now I will freely forgive you."
+
+Henry now wished to tell his father the truth; but he was ashamed to
+own his wickedness, and he hoped that it would never be found out that
+he was the thief.
+
+When John came in, Mr. Fairchild said:
+
+"John, there is one of the apples taken from the young apple-tree
+opposite the parlour window."
+
+"Sir," said John, "I did not take it, but I think I can guess which way
+it went." Then John looked very hard at Henry, and Henry trembled and
+shook all over. "I saw Master Henry this morning run behind the stable
+with a large apple in his hand, and he stayed there till he had eaten
+it, and then he came out."
+
+"Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "is this true? Are you a thief--and a
+liar, too?" And Mr. Fairchild's voice was very terrible when he spoke.
+
+Then Henry fell down upon his knees and confessed his wickedness.
+
+"Go from my sight, bad boy!" said Mr. Fairchild; "if you had told the
+truth at first, I should have forgiven you, but now I will not forgive
+you."
+
+Then Mr. Fairchild ordered John to take Henry, and lock him up in a
+little room at the top of the house, where he could not speak to any
+person. Poor Henry cried sadly, and Lucy and Emily cried too; but Mr.
+Fairchild would not excuse Henry.
+
+"It is better," he said, "that he should be punished in this world
+whilst he is a little boy than grow up to be a liar and a thief."
+
+So poor Henry was locked up by himself in a little room at the very top
+of the house. He sat down on a small box and cried sadly. He hoped that
+his mother and father would have sent him some breakfast; but they did
+not. At twelve o'clock he looked out of the window and saw his mother
+and sisters walking in the meadows at a little distance, and he saw his
+father come and fetch them in to dinner, as he supposed; and then he
+hoped that he should have some dinner sent him; but no dinner came.
+Some time after he saw Betty go down into the meadow to milk the cow;
+then he knew that it was five o'clock, and that it would soon be night;
+then he began to cry again.
+
+"Oh! I am afraid," he said, "that papa will make me stay here all
+night! and I shall be alone, for God will not take care of me because
+of my wickedness."
+
+Soon afterwards Henry saw the sun go down behind the hills, and he
+heard the rooks as they were going to rest in their nests at the top of
+some tall trees near the house. Soon afterwards it became dusk, and
+then quite dark. "Oh! dear, dear," said Henry, when he found himself
+sitting alone in the dark, "what a wicked boy I have been to-day! I
+stole an apple, and told two or three lies about it! I have made my
+papa and mamma unhappy, and my poor sisters, too! How could I do such
+things? And now I must spend all this night in this dismal place; and
+God will not take care of me because I am so naughty."
+
+Then Henry cried very sadly indeed. After which he knelt down and
+prayed that God would forgive him, till he found himself getting more
+happy in his mind.
+
+When he got up from his prayer he heard the step of someone coming
+upstairs; he thought it was his mother, and his little heart was very
+glad indeed. Henry was right: it was indeed his mother come to see her
+poor little boy. He soon heard her unlock the door, and in a moment he
+ran into her arms.
+
+"Is Henry sorry for his naughtiness?" said Mrs. Fairchild, as she sat
+down and took him upon her lap. "Are you sorry, my dear child, for your
+very great naughtiness?"
+
+"Oh, indeed I am!" said Henry, sobbing and crying; "I am very sorry,
+pray forgive me. I have asked God to forgive me; and I think that He
+has heard my prayer, for I feel happier than I did."
+
+"But have you thought, Henry, of the great wrong which you have done?"
+
+"Yes, mamma, I have been thinking of it a great deal; I know that what
+I did this morning was a very great sin."
+
+"Why do you say this morning?" said Mrs. Fairchild; "the sin that you
+committed was the work of several days."
+
+"How, mamma?" said Henry; "I was not two minutes stealing the apple,
+and papa found it out before breakfast."
+
+"Still, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that sin was the work of many
+days." Henry listened to his mother, and she went on speaking: "Do you
+remember those little chickens which came out of the eggs in the hen's
+nest last Monday morning?"
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Henry.
+
+"Do you think," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that they were made the moment
+before they came out?"
+
+"No, mamma," said Henry; "papa said they were growing in the egg-shell
+a long time before they came out alive."
+
+_Mrs. Fairchild._ "In the same manner the great sin you committed this
+morning was growing in your heart some days before it came out."
+
+"How, mamma?" said Henry. "I do not understand."
+
+_Mrs. Fairchild._ "All wrong things which we do are first formed in our
+hearts; and sometimes our sins are very long before they come to their
+full growth. The great sin you committed this morning began to be
+formed in your heart three days ago. Do you remember that that very day
+in which your father forbade you to touch the apples, you stood in the
+parlour window and looked at them, and you admired their beautiful
+appearance? This was the beginning of your sin. Your sister Lucy told
+you at the time not to look at them, and she did well; for by looking
+at forbidden things we are led to desire them, and when we desire them
+very much we proceed to take them. Your father forbade you to touch
+these apples; therefore, my dear child, you ought not to have allowed
+yourself to think of them for one moment. When you first thought about
+them, you did not suppose that this thought would end in so very great
+a sin as you have now been guilty of."
+
+"Oh, mamma," said Henry, "I will try to remember what you have said to
+me all my life."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild kissed little Henry then, and said:
+
+"God bless you, my child, and give you a holy heart, which may never
+think or design any evil."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild then led Henry down into the parlour, where Mr.
+Fairchild and Lucy and Emily were waiting for them to go to tea. Mr.
+Fairchild kissed his little boy, and Lucy and Emily smiled to see him.
+
+"Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "you have had a sad day of it; but I did
+not punish you, my child, because I do not love you, but because I do."
+
+Then Mr. Fairchild cut a large piece of bread-and-butter for Henry,
+which he was very glad of, for he was very hungry.
+
+[Illustration: "_Behind the stable._"--Page 26.]
+
+
+
+
+Story of an Unhappy Day
+
+[Illustration: Lucy and Emily]
+
+
+It happened that Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had had nothing for a long time
+to interrupt them in the care and management of their children; so that
+they had had it in their power to teach them and guard them from all
+evil influences. I will tell you exactly how they lived and spent their
+time; Emily and Lucy slept together in a little closet on one side of
+their mother and father's room; and Henry had a little room on the
+other side, where he slept. As soon as the children got up, they used
+to go into their father and mother's room to prayers; after which Henry
+went with Mr. Fairchild into the garden, whilst Lucy and Emily made
+their beds and rubbed the furniture; afterwards they all met at
+breakfast, dressed neatly but very plain. At breakfast the children ate
+what their mother gave them, and seldom spoke till they were spoken to.
+After breakfast Betty and John were called in and all went to prayers.
+Then Henry went into his father's study to his lessons; and Lucy and
+Emily stayed with their mother, working and reading till twelve
+o'clock, when they used to go out to take a walk all together;
+sometimes they went to the schools, and sometimes they went to see a
+poor person. When they came in, dinner was ready. After dinner the
+little girls and Mrs. Fairchild worked, whilst Henry read to them, till
+tea-time; and after tea Lucy and Emily played with their doll and
+worked for it, and Henry busied himself in making some little things of
+wood, which his father showed him how to do. And so they spent their
+time, till Betty and John came in to evening prayers; then the children
+had each of them a baked apple and went to bed.
+
+Now all this time the little ones were in the presence of their father
+and mother, and kept carefully from doing openly naughty things by the
+watchful eyes of their dear parents. One day it happened, when they had
+been living a long time in this happy way, that Lucy said to Mrs.
+Fairchild, "Mamma, I think that Emily and Henry and I are much better
+children than we used to be; we have not been punished for a very long
+time."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "do not boast or think well of
+yourself; it is always a bad sign when people boast of themselves. If
+you have not done any very naughty thing lately, it is not because
+there is any goodness or wisdom in you, but because your papa and I
+have been always with you, carefully watching and guiding you from
+morning till night."
+
+That same evening a letter came for Mr. Fairchild, from an old lady who
+lived about four miles off, begging that he and Mrs. Fairchild would
+come over, if it was convenient, to see her the next day to settle some
+business of consequence. This old lady's name was Mrs. Goodriche, and
+she lived in a very neat little house just under a hill, with Sukey her
+maid. It was the very house in which Mrs. Howard lived about fifty
+years ago, as we shall hear later on.
+
+When Mr. Fairchild got the letter he ordered John to get the horse
+ready by daybreak next morning, and to put the pillion on it for Mrs.
+Fairchild; so Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild got up very early, and when they
+had kissed their children, who were still asleep, they set off.
+
+Now it happened, very unluckily, that Mrs. Fairchild, at this time, had
+given Betty leave to go for two or three days to see her father, and
+she was not yet returned; so there was nobody left in the house to take
+care of the children but John. And now I will tell you how these
+children spent the day whilst their father and mother were out.
+
+When Lucy and Emily awoke, they began playing in their beds. Emily made
+babies of the pillows, and Lucy pulled off the sheets and tied them
+round her, in imitation of Lady Noble's long-trained gown; and thus
+they spent their time till Henry came to the door to tell them that
+breakfast was ready.
+
+"And I have persuaded John," said Henry, "to make us toast and butter;
+and it looks so nice! Make haste and come down; do, sisters, do!" And
+he continued to drum upon the door with a stick until his sisters were
+dressed.
+
+Emily and Lucy put on their clothes as quickly as they could and went
+downstairs with their brother, without praying, washing themselves,
+combing their hair, making their bed, or doing any one thing they ought
+to have done.
+
+John had, indeed, made a large quantity of toast and butter; but the
+children were not satisfied with what John had made, for when they had
+eaten all that he had provided, yet they would toast more themselves,
+and put butter on it before the fire as they had seen Betty do; so the
+hearth was covered with crumbs and grease, and they wasted almost as
+much as they ate.
+
+After breakfast, they took out their books to learn their lessons; but
+they had eaten so much that they could not learn with any pleasure; and
+Lucy, who thought she would be very clever, began to scold Henry and
+Emily for their idleness; and Henry and Emily, in their turn, found
+fault with her; so that they began to dispute, and would soon, I fear,
+have proceeded to something worse if Henry had not spied a little pig
+in the garden.
+
+"Oh, sisters," said he, "there is a pig in the garden, in the
+flower-bed! Look! look! And what mischief it will do! Papa will be very
+angry. Come, sisters, let us hunt it out."
+
+So saying, down went Henry's book, and away he ran into the garden,
+followed by Emily and Lucy, running as fast as they could. They soon
+drove the pig out of the garden, and it would have been well if they
+had stopped there; but, instead of that, they followed it down into the
+lane. Now, there was a place where a spring ran across the lane, over
+which was a narrow bridge for the use of people that way. Now the pig
+did not stand to look for the bridge, but went splash, splash, through
+the midst of the water: and after him went Henry, Lucy, and Emily,
+though they were up to their knees in mud and dirt.
+
+[Illustration: "_Away he ran into the garden, followed by Lucy and
+Emily._"--Page 39.]
+
+In this dirty condition they ran on till they came close to a house
+where a farmer and his wife lived whose name was Freeman. These people
+were not such as lived in the fear of God, neither did they bring up
+their children well; on which account Mr. Fairchild had often forbidden
+Lucy and Emily and Henry to go to their house. However, when the
+children were opposite this house, Mrs. Freeman saw them through the
+kitchen window; and seeing they were covered with mud, she came out and
+brought them in, and dried their clothes by the fire; which was, so
+far, very kind of her, only the children should not have gone into the
+house, as they had been so often forbidden by their parents.
+
+Mrs. Freeman would have had them stay all day and play with their
+children; and Henry and his sisters would have been very glad to have
+accepted her invitation, but they were afraid: so Mrs. Freeman let them
+go; but, before they went, she gave them each a large piece of cake,
+and something sweet to drink, which she said would do them good. Now
+this sweet stuff was cider; and as they were never used to drink
+anything but water, it made them quite giddy for a little while; so
+that when they got back into the lane, first one tumbled down, and then
+another; and their faces became flushed, and their heads began to ache,
+so that they were forced to sit down for a time under a tree, on the
+side of the lane, and there they were when John came to find them; for
+John, who was in the stable when they ran out of the garden, was much
+frightened when he returned to the house, and could not find them
+there.
+
+"Ah, you naughty children!" said he, when he found them, "you have
+almost frightened me out of my life! Where have you been?"
+
+"We have been in the lane," said Lucy, blushing.
+
+This was not all the truth; but one fault always leads to another.
+
+So John brought them home, and locked them up in their play-room,
+whilst he got their dinner ready.
+
+When the children found themselves shut up in their play-room, and
+could not get out, they sat themselves down, and began to think how
+naughty they had been. They were silent for a few minutes; at last Lucy
+spoke:
+
+"Oh, Henry! oh, Emily! how naughty we have been! And yet I thought I
+would be so good when papa and mamma went out; so very good! What
+shall we say when papa and mamma come home?"
+
+Then all the children began to cry. At length Henry said:
+
+"I'll tell you what we will do, Lucy; we will be good all the evening;
+we will not do one naughty thing."
+
+"So we will, Henry," said Emily. "When John lets us out, how good we
+will be! and then we can tell the truth, that we were naughty in the
+morning, but we were good all the evening."
+
+John made some nice apple-dumplings for the children, and when they
+were ready, and he had put some butter and sugar upon them (for John
+was a good-natured man), he fetched the children down; and after they
+had each ate as much apple-dumpling as he thought proper, he told them
+they might play in the barn, bidding them not to stir out of it till
+supper-time.
+
+Henry and Lucy and Emily were delighted with this permission; and, as
+Lucy ran along to the barn with her brother and sister, she said:
+
+"Now let us be very good. We are not to do anything naughty all this
+evening."
+
+"We will be very good indeed," answered Emily.
+
+"Better than we ever were in all our lives," added Henry.
+
+So they all went into the barn, and when John fastened them in he said
+to himself, "Sure they will be safe now, till I have looked to the pigs
+and milked the cow; for there is nothing in the barn but straw and hay,
+and they cannot hurt themselves with that, sure."
+
+But John was mistaken. As soon as he was gone, Henry spied a swing,
+which Mr. Fairchild had made in the barn for the children, but which he
+never allowed them to use when he was not with them, because swings are
+very dangerous things, unless there are very careful persons to use
+them. The seat of the swing was tied up to the side of the barn, above
+the children's reach, as Mr. Fairchild thought.
+
+"Oh, Lucy!" said Henry, "there is the swing. There can be no harm in
+our swinging a little. If papa was here, I am sure he would let us
+swing. If you and Emily will help to lift me up, I will untie it and
+let it down, and then we will swing so nicely."
+
+So Emily and Lucy lifted Henry up, and he untied the swing, and let it
+down into its right place; but as he was getting down, his coat caught
+upon a bit of wood on the side of the barn, and was much torn. However,
+the children did not trouble themselves very much about this accident.
+First Emily got into the swing, then Henry, then Lucy; and then Emily
+would get in again.
+
+"Now, Lucy," she said, "swing me high, and I will shut my eyes; you
+can't think how pleasant it is to swing with one's eyes shut. Swing me
+higher! swing me higher!"
+
+So she went on calling to Lucy, and Lucy trying to swing her higher and
+higher, till at last the swing turned, and down came Emily to the
+floor. There happened providentially to be some straw on the floor, or
+she would have been killed. As it was, however, she was sadly hurt; she
+lay for some minutes without speaking, and her mouth and nose poured
+out blood.
+
+Henry and Lucy thought she was dead; and, oh! how frightened they were!
+They screamed so violently that John came running to see what was the
+matter; and, poor man! he was sadly frightened when he saw Emily lying
+on the floor covered with blood. He lifted her up and brought her into
+the house; he saw she was not dead, but he did not know how much she
+might be hurt. When he had washed her face from the blood, and given
+her a little water to drink, she recovered a little; but her nose and
+one eye, and her lip, were terribly swelled, and two of her teeth were
+out.
+
+When Emily was a little recovered, John placed her in a little chair by
+the kitchen fire, and he took his blue pocket-handkerchief and tied
+Lucy and Henry to the kitchen-table, saying:
+
+"You unlucky rogues! you have given me trouble enough to-day--that you
+have. I will not let you go out of my sight again till master and
+mistress come home. Thank God you have not killed your sister! Who
+would have thought of your loosing the swing!"
+
+In this manner Henry and Lucy and Emily remained till it was nearly
+dark, and then they heard the sound of the horse's feet coming up to
+the kitchen door, for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come. John hastened
+to untie the children, who trembled from head to foot.
+
+"Oh, John, John! what shall we do--what shall we say?" said Lucy.
+
+"The truth, the truth, and all the truth," said John; "it is the best
+thing you can do now."
+
+When Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild came in, they thought their children would
+have run to meet them; but they were so conscious of their naughtiness
+that they all crept behind John, and Emily hid her face.
+
+"Emily, Lucy, Henry!" said Mrs. Fairchild, "you keep back; what is the
+matter?"
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa!" said Lucy, coming forward, "we have
+been very wicked children to-day; we are not fit to come near you."
+
+"What have you done, Lucy?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "Tell us the whole
+truth."
+
+Then Lucy told her parents everything which she and her brother and
+sister had done; she did not hide anything from them. You may be sure
+that Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were very much shocked. When they heard
+all that Lucy had to tell them, and saw Emily's face, they looked very
+grave indeed.
+
+"I am glad that you have told the truth, my children," said Mr.
+Fairchild; "but the faults that you have committed are very serious
+ones. You have disobeyed your parents; and, in consequence of your
+disobedience, Emily might have lost her life, if God had not been very
+merciful to you. And now go all of you to your beds."
+
+The children did as their father bade them, and went silently up to
+their beds, where they cried sadly, thinking upon their naughtiness.
+The next morning they all three came into their mother's room, and
+begged her to kiss them and forgive them.
+
+"I cannot refuse to pardon you, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild;
+"but, indeed, you made me and your father very unhappy last night."
+
+Then the children looked at their mother's eyes, and they were full of
+tears; and they felt more and more sorry to think how greatly they had
+grieved their kind mother; and when Mrs. Fairchild kissed them, and put
+her arms round their necks, they cried more than ever.
+
+
+
+
+Story of Ambition; or, The Wish to be Great
+
+[Illustration: They went along the great gallery]
+
+
+Twice every year Sir Charles and Lady Noble used to invite Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild and their children to spend a day with them at their house.
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild did not much like to go, because Sir Charles and
+his lady were very proud, and their children were not brought up in the
+fear of God; yet, as the visit only happened twice a year, Mr.
+Fairchild thought it better to go than to have a quarrel with his
+neighbour. Mrs. Fairchild always had two plain muslin frocks, with
+white mittens and neat black shoes, for Lucy and Emily to wear when
+they went to see Lady Noble. As Mr. Fairchild's house was as much as
+two miles distance from Sir Charles Noble's, Sir Charles always used to
+send his carriage for them, and to bring them back again at night.
+
+One morning, just at breakfast-time, Mr. Fairchild came into the
+parlour, saying to Mrs. Fairchild:
+
+"Here, my dear, is a note from Sir Charles Noble, inviting us to spend
+the day to-morrow, and the children."
+
+"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "as Sir Charles Noble has been so
+kind as to ask us, we must not offend him by refusing to go."
+
+The next morning Mr. Fairchild desired his wife and children to be
+ready at twelve o'clock, which was the time fixed for the coach to be
+at Mr. Fairchild's door. Accordingly, soon after eleven, Mrs. Fairchild
+dressed Lucy and Emily, and made them sit quietly down till the
+carriage came. As Lucy and Emily sat in the corner of the room, Lucy
+looked at Emily, and said:
+
+"Sister, how pretty you look!"
+
+"And how nice you look, Lucy!" said Emily. "These frocks are very
+pretty, and make us look very well."
+
+"My dear little girls," said Mrs. Fairchild, who overheard what they
+said to each other, "do not be conceited because you have got your best
+frocks on. You now think well of yourselves, because you fancy you are
+well dressed; by-and-by, when you get to Lady Noble's, you will find
+Miss Augusta much finer dressed than yourselves; then you will be out
+of humour with yourselves for as little reason as you now are pleased."
+
+At this moment Henry came in his Sunday coat to tell his mother that
+Sir Charles Noble's carriage was come. Mrs. Fairchild was quite ready;
+and Lucy and Emily were in such a hurry that Emily had nearly tumbled
+downstairs over her sister, and Lucy was upon the point of slipping
+down on the step of the hall-door; however, they all got into the coach
+without any accident, and the coachman drove away, and that so rapidly
+that they soon came in sight of Sir Charles Noble's house.
+
+As it is not likely that you ever saw Sir Charles Noble's house, I will
+give you some account of it. It is a very large house, built of smooth
+white stone; it stands in a fine park, or green lawn, scattered over
+with tall trees and shrubs; but there were no leaves on the trees at
+the time I am speaking of, because it was winter.
+
+When the carriage drove up to the hall-door, a smart footman came out,
+opened the carriage-door, and showed Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild through a
+great many rooms into a grand parlour, where Lady Noble was sitting
+upon a sofa, by a large fire, with several other ladies, all of whom
+were handsomely dressed. Now, as I told you before, Lady Noble was a
+proud woman; so she did not take much notice of Mrs. Fairchild when she
+came in, although she ordered the servants to set a chair for her. Miss
+Augusta Noble was seated on the sofa by her mamma, playing with a very
+beautiful wax doll; and her two brothers, William and Edward, were
+standing by her; but they never came forward to Mrs. Fairchild's
+children to say that they were glad to see them, or to show them any
+kind of civility. If children knew how disagreeable they make
+themselves when they are rude and ill-behaved, surely they would never
+be so, but would strive to be civil and courteous to everyone.
+
+Soon after Mrs. Fairchild was seated, a servant came to say that Miss
+Noble's and Master William's and Master Edward's dinners were ready.
+
+"Go, Augusta," said Lady Noble, "to your dinner, and take Master and
+Misses Fairchild with you; and, after you have dined, show them your
+playthings and your baby-house."
+
+Miss Augusta got up, and, as she passed by Emily and Lucy, she said in
+a very haughty way, "Mamma says you must come with me."
+
+So Emily and Lucy followed Miss Augusta, and the little boys came after
+them. She went up a pair of grand stairs, and along a very long gallery
+full of pictures, till they came to a large room, where Miss Augusta's
+governess was sitting at work, and the children's dinner set out in
+great order. In one corner of the room was the baby-house. Besides the
+baby-house, there was a number of other toys--a large rocking-horse, a
+cradle with a big wooden doll lying in it, and tops, and carts, and
+coaches, and whips, and trumpets in abundance.
+
+"Here are Mrs. Fairchild's children come to dine with me, ma'am," said
+Miss Augusta, as she opened the door; "this is Lucy, and this is Emily,
+and that is Henry."
+
+The governess did not take much notice of Mrs. Fairchild's children,
+but said, "Miss Augusta, I wish you would shut the door after you, for
+it is very cold."
+
+I do not know whether Miss Augusta heard her governess, but she never
+offered to go back to shut the door.
+
+The governess, whose name was Beaumont, then called to Master Edward,
+who was just coming in, to shut the door after him.
+
+"You may shut it yourself, if you want it shut," answered the rude boy.
+
+When Lucy heard this she immediately ran and shut the door, upon which
+Miss Beaumont looked more civilly at her than she had done before, and
+thanked her for her attention.
+
+Whilst Lucy was shutting the door, Miss Augusta began to stir the fire.
+
+"Miss Augusta," said the lady, "has not your mamma often forbidden you
+to touch the fire? Some day you will set your frock on fire."
+
+Miss Augusta did not heed what her governess said this time any more
+than the last, but went on raking the fire; till at length Miss
+Beaumont, fearing some mischief, forced the poker out of her hand. Miss
+Augusta looked very much displeased, and was going to make a pert
+answer, when her mother and the other ladies came into the room to see
+the children dine. The young ones immediately seated themselves quietly
+at the table to eat their dinner.
+
+"Are my children well behaved?" said Lady Noble, speaking to the
+governess. "I thought I heard you finding fault with Augusta when I
+came in."
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am," said the governess; "Miss Augusta is a good young
+lady; I seldom have reason to find fault with her."
+
+Lucy and Emily looked at Miss Beaumont, and wondered to hear her say
+that Miss Augusta was good, but they were silent.
+
+"I am happy to say," said Lady Noble, speaking to Mrs. Fairchild, "that
+mine are promising children. Augusta has a good heart."
+
+Just at that moment a servant came in, and set a plate of apples on the
+table.
+
+"Miss Beaumont," said Lady Noble, "take care that Augusta does not eat
+above one apple; you know that she was unwell yesterday from eating too
+many."
+
+Miss Beaumont assured Lady Noble that she would attend to her wishes,
+and the ladies left the room. When they were gone the governess gave
+two apples to each of the children, excepting Augusta, to whom she gave
+only one. The rest of the apples she took out of the plate, and put in
+her work-bag for her own eating.
+
+When everyone had done dinner and the table-cloth was taken away, Lady
+Noble's children got up and left the table, and Henry and Emily were
+following, but Lucy whispered to them to say grace. Accordingly they
+stood still by the table, and, putting their hands together, they said
+the grace which they had been used to say after dinner at home.
+
+"What are you doing?" said Augusta.
+
+"We are saying grace," answered Lucy.
+
+"Oh, I forgot," said Augusta; "your mamma is religious, and makes you
+do all these things. How tiresome it must be! And where's the use of
+it? It will be time enough to be religious, you know, when we get old,
+and expect to die."
+
+"Oh, but," said little Henry, "perhaps we may never live to be old;
+many children die younger than we are."
+
+Whilst Henry was speaking, William and Edward stood listening to him
+with their mouths wide open, and when he had finished his speech they
+broke out into a fit of laughter.
+
+"When our parson dies, you shall be parson, Henry," said Edward; "but
+I'll never go to church when you preach."
+
+"No, he shan't be parson--he shall be clerk," said William; "then he
+will have all the graves to dig."
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Henry: "your mamma was never worse out in
+her life than when she said hers were good children."
+
+"Take that for your sauciness, you little beggar!" said Master William,
+giving Henry a blow on the side of the head; and he would have given
+him several more had not Lucy and Emily run in between.
+
+"If you fight in this room, boys, I shall tell my mamma," said Miss
+Augusta. "Come, go downstairs; we don't want you here. Go and feed your
+dogs."
+
+William and Edward accordingly went off, and left the little girls and
+Henry to play quietly. Lucy and Emily were very much pleased with the
+baby-house and the dolls, and Henry got upon the rocking-horse; and so
+they amused themselves for a while. At length Miss Beaumont, who had
+been sitting at work, went to fetch a book from an adjoining room. As
+soon as she was out of sight, Miss Augusta, going softly up to the
+table, took two apples out of her work-bag.
+
+"Oh, Miss Augusta, what are you doing?" said Emily.
+
+"She is stealing," said Henry.
+
+"Stealing!" said Miss Augusta, coming back into the corner of the room
+where the baby-house was; "what a vulgar boy you are! What words you
+use!"
+
+"You don't like to be called a thief," said Henry, "though you are not
+ashamed to steal, I see."
+
+"Do, Miss Augusta, put the apples back," said Emily; "your mamma said
+you must have but one, you know, to-day, and you have had one already."
+
+"Hush, hush!" said Miss Augusta; "here's my governess coming back.
+Don't say a word."
+
+So saying, she slipped the apples into the bosom of her frock, and ran
+out of the room.
+
+"Where are you going, Miss Augusta?" exclaimed Miss Beaumont.
+
+"Mamma has sent for me," answered Augusta; "I shall be back
+immediately."
+
+When Miss Augusta had eaten the apples, she came back quietly, and sat
+down to play with Lucy and Emily as if nothing had happened. Soon after
+the governess looked into her work-bag, and found that two of the
+apples were gone.
+
+"Miss Augusta," she said, "you have taken two apples: there are two
+gone."
+
+"I have not touched them," said Miss Augusta.
+
+"Some of you have," said Miss Beaumont, looking at the other children.
+
+"I can't tell who has," said Miss Augusta; "but I know it was not me."
+
+Lucy and Emily felt very angry, but they did not speak; but Henry
+would have spoken if his sister Lucy had not put her hand on his mouth.
+
+"I see," said Miss Beaumont, "that some of you have taken the apples,
+and I desire that you Miss Emily, and you Miss Lucy, and you Master
+Henry, will come and sit down quietly by me, for I don't know what
+mischief you may do next."
+
+Now the governess did not really suppose that Mrs. Fairchild's children
+had taken the apples; but she chose to scold them because she was not
+afraid of offending their parents, but she was very much afraid of
+offending Miss Augusta and her mamma. So she made Lucy and Emily and
+Henry sit quietly down by her side before the fire. It was now getting
+dark, and a maid-servant came in with a candle, and, setting it upon
+the table, said,
+
+"Miss Augusta, it is time for you to be dressed to go down to tea with
+the ladies."
+
+"Well," said Miss Augusta, "bring me my clothes, and I will be dressed
+by the fireside."
+
+The servant then went into the closet I before spoke of, and soon
+returned with a beautiful muslin frock, wrought with flowers, a
+rose-coloured sash and shoes, and a pearl necklace. Emily and Lucy had
+never seen such fine clothes before; and when they saw Miss Augusta
+dressed in them they could not help looking at their own plain frocks
+and black shoes and feeling quite ashamed of them, though there was no
+more reason to be ashamed of their clothes at that time than there was
+of their being proud of them when they were first put on.
+
+[Illustration: "_Emily and Lucy had never seen such fine clothes
+before._"--Page 52.]
+
+When Miss Augusta was dressed, she said to the maid-servant,
+
+"Take the candle and light me down to the hall." Then, turning to Emily
+and Lucy, she added, "Will you come with me? I suppose you have not
+brought any clean frocks to put on? Well, never mind; when we get into
+the drawing-room you must keep behind your mamma's chair, and nobody
+will take any notice of you."
+
+So Miss Augusta walked first, with the maid-servant, and Henry, and
+Lucy, and Emily followed. They went along the great gallery, and down
+the stairs, and through several fine rooms, all lighted up with many
+lamps and candles, till they came to the door where Sir Charles and
+Lady Noble, and Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, and a great many ladies and
+gentlemen were sitting in a circle round a fire. Lucy and Emily and
+Henry went and stood behind their mother's chair, and nobody took any
+notice of them; but Miss Augusta went in among the company, curtseying
+to one, giving her hand to another, and nodding and smiling at another.
+"What a charming girl Miss Augusta has grown!" said one of the ladies.
+"Your daughter, Lady Noble, will be quite a beauty," said another.
+"What an elegant frock Miss Augusta has on!" said a third lady. "That
+rose-coloured sash makes her sweet complexion more lovely than ever,"
+said one of the gentlemen; and so they went on flattering her till she
+grew more conceited and full of herself than ever; and during all the
+rest of the evening she took no more notice of Mrs. Fairchild's
+children than if they had not been in the room.
+
+After the company had all drank tea, several tables were set out, and
+the ladies and gentlemen began to make parties for playing at cards. As
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild never played at cards, they asked for the coach,
+and, when it was ready, wished Sir Charles and Lady Noble good-night,
+and came away.
+
+"Well," said little Henry, "Sir Charles Noble's may be a very fine
+house, and everything may be very fine in it, but I like my own little
+home and garden, and John, and the meadow, and the apple-trees, and the
+round hill, and the lane, better than all the fine things at Sir
+Charles's."
+
+Now all this while Emily and Lucy did not speak a word; and what do you
+think was the reason? It was this: that the sight of Miss Augusta's
+fine clothes and playthings, and beautiful rooms in which she lived,
+with the number of people she had to attend her, had made them both out
+of humour with their own humble way of living, and small house and
+plain clothes. Their hearts were full of the desire of being great,
+like Miss Augusta, and having things like her; but they did not dare to
+tell their thoughts to their mother.
+
+When they got home, Mrs. Fairchild gave a baked apple to each of the
+children, and some warm milk and water to drink; and after they had
+prayed, she sent them to bed. When Emily and Lucy had got into bed, and
+Betty had taken away the candle, Lucy said,
+
+"Oh, Emily! I wish our papa and mamma were like Sir Charles and Lady
+Noble. What a beautiful frock that was that Miss Augusta had on! and I
+dare say that she has a great many more like it. And that sash!--I
+never saw so fine a colour."
+
+_Emily._ "And then the ladies and gentlemen said she was so pretty, and
+even her governess did not dare to find fault with her!"
+
+_Lucy._ "But Betty finds fault with us, and John, too; and papa and
+mamma make us work so hard! and we have such coarse clothes! Even our
+best frocks are not so good as those Miss Augusta wears every morning."
+
+In this manner they went on talking till Mrs. Fairchild came upstairs
+and into their room. As they had thick curtains round their bed, it
+being very cold weather, they did not see their mamma come into the
+room, and so she heard a great deal of what they were talking about
+without their knowing it. She came up to the side of their bed, and sat
+down in a chair which stood near it, and putting the curtains aside a
+little, she said, "My dear little girls, as I came into the room I
+heard some part of what you were saying without intending it; and I am
+glad I heard it, because I can put you in a way of getting rid of these
+foolish thoughts and desires which you are speaking of to each other.
+Do not be ashamed, my dears; I am your own mamma, and love you dearly.
+Do you remember, Lucy, when Emily got that beautiful doll from Lady
+Noble, that you said you felt something in your heart which made you
+very miserable?"
+
+_Lucy._ "Yes, mamma, I remember it very well; you told me it was envy.
+But I do not feel envy now; I do not wish to take Miss Augusta's things
+from her, or to hurt her; Emily and I only wish to be like her, and to
+have the same things she has."
+
+"What you now feel, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "is not exactly
+envy, though it is very like it; it is what is called ambition.
+Ambition is the desire to be greater than we are. Ambition makes people
+unhappy and discontented with what they are and what they have."
+
+"I do not exactly understand, mamma," said Emily, "what ambition makes
+people do."
+
+"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "suppose that Betty was ambitious,
+she would be discontented at being a servant, and would want to be as
+high as her mistress; and if I were ambitious, I should strive to be
+equal to Lady Noble; and Lady Noble would want to be as great as the
+duchess, who lives at that beautiful house which we passed by when we
+went to see your grandmamma; the duchess, if she were ambitious, would
+wish to be like the Queen."
+
+_Emily._ "But the Queen could be no higher, so she could not be
+ambitious."
+
+_Mrs. Fairchild._ "My dear, you are much mistaken. When you are old
+enough to read history, you will find that when Kings and Queens are
+ambitious, it does more harm even than when little people are so. When
+Kings are ambitious, they desire to be greater than other Kings, and
+then they fight with them, and cause many cruel wars and dreadful
+miseries. So, my dear children, you see that there is no end to the
+mischief which ambition does; and whenever this desire to be great
+comes, it makes us unhappy, and in the end ruins us."
+
+Then Mrs. Fairchild showed to her children how much God loves people
+who are lowly and humble; and she knelt by the bedside and prayed that
+God would take all desire to be great out of her dear little girls'
+hearts.
+
+[Illustration: "_Dressed._"--Page 52.]
+
+
+
+
+The All-Seeing God
+
+[Illustration: At last she fell asleep]
+
+
+I must tell you of a sad temptation into which Emily fell about this
+time. It is a sad story, but you shall hear it.
+
+There was a room in Mrs. Fairchild's house which was not often used. In
+this room was a closet, full of shelves, where Mrs. Fairchild used to
+keep her sugar and tea, and sweetmeats and pickles, and many other
+things. Now, as Betty was very honest, and John, too, Mrs. Fairchild
+would often leave this closet unlocked for weeks together, and never
+missed anything out of it. One day, at the time that damsons were ripe,
+Mrs. Fairchild and Betty boiled up a great many damsons in sugar, to
+use in the winter; and when they had put them in jars and tied them
+down, they put them in the closet I before spoke of. Emily and Lucy saw
+their mother boil the damsons, and helped Betty to cover them and carry
+them to the closet. As Emily was carrying one of the jars she perceived
+that it was tied down so loosely that she could put in her finger and
+get at the fruit. Accordingly, she took out one of the damsons and ate
+it. It was so nice that she was tempted to take another; and was going
+even to take a third, when she heard Betty coming up. She covered the
+jar in haste and came away. Some months after this, one evening, just
+about the time it was getting dark, she was passing by the room where
+these sweetmeats were kept, and she observed that the door was open.
+She looked round to see if anybody was near, but there was no one. Her
+parents, and her brother and sister, were in the parlour, and Betty was
+in the kitchen, and John was in the garden. No eye was looking at her
+but the eye of God, who sees everything we do, and knows even the
+secret thoughts of the heart; but at that moment the fear of God was
+not in the heart of Emily. Accordingly, she passed through the open
+door and went up to the closet. There she stood still again, and looked
+round, but saw no one. She then opened the closet door, and took two or
+three damsons, which she ate in great haste. She then went to her own
+room, and washed her hands and her mouth, and went down into the
+parlour, where Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were just going to tea.
+
+[Illustration: "_She took two or three damsons, which she ate in great
+haste._"--Page 60.]
+
+Although her parents never suspected what naughty thing Emily had been
+doing, and behaved just as usual to her, yet Emily felt frightened and
+uneasy before them; and every time they spoke to her, though it was
+only to ask the commonest question, she stared and looked frightened.
+
+I am sorry to say that the next day, when it was beginning to get dark,
+Emily went again to the closet and took some more damsons; and so she
+did for several days, though she knew she was doing wrong.
+
+On the Sunday following, it happened to be so rainy that nobody could
+go to church, in consequence of which Mr. Fairchild called all the
+family into the parlour and read the Morning Service and a sermon. Some
+sermons are hard and difficult for children to understand, but this
+was a very plain, easy sermon--even Henry could tell his mamma a great
+deal about it. The text was from Psalm cxxxix., 7th to 12th verses.
+
+The meaning of these verses was explained in the sermon. It was first
+shown that the Lord is a spirit; and, secondly, that there is no place
+where He is not: that if a person could go up into heaven, he would
+find God there; if he were to go down to hell, there also would he find
+God: that God is in every part of the earth, and of the sea, and of the
+sky; and that, being always present in every place, He knows everything
+we do and everything we say, and even every thought of our hearts,
+however secret we may think it. Then the sermon went on to show how
+foolish and mad it is for people to do wicked things in secret and dark
+places, trusting that God will not know it. "If I say, Surely the
+darkness shall cover me, even the night shall be light about me," for
+no night is dark unto God.
+
+While Mr. Fairchild was reading, Emily felt frightened and unhappy,
+thinking of the wickedness she was guilty of every day; and she even
+thought that she never would be guilty again of the same sin; but when
+the evening came all her good resolutions left her, for she confided in
+her own strength; and she went again to the room where the damsons were
+kept. However, when she came to the door of the closet, she thought of
+the sermon which her father had read in the morning, and stood still a
+few moments to consider what she should do. "There is nobody in this
+room," she said; "and nobody sees me, it is true, but God is in this
+room; He sees me; His eye is now upon me. I will not take any more
+damsons. I will go back, I think. But yet, as I am come so far, and am
+just got to the closet, I will just take one damson--it shall be the
+last. I will never come here again without mamma's leave." So she
+opened the closet door and took one damson, and then another, and then
+two more. Whilst she was taking the last, she heard the cat mew. She
+did not know that the cat had followed her into the room; and she was
+so frightened that she spilled some of the red juice upon her frock,
+but she did not perceive it at the time. She then left the closet, and
+went, as usual, to wash her hands and mouth, and went down into the
+parlour.
+
+When Emily got into the parlour, she immediately saw the red stain on
+her frock. She did not stay till it was observed, but ran out again
+instantly, and went upstairs and washed her frock. As the stain had not
+dried in, it came out with very little trouble; but not till Emily had
+wetted all the bosom of her frock and sleeves, and that so much that
+all her inner clothes were thoroughly wet, even to the skin; to hide
+this, she put her pinafore on to go down to tea. When she came down,
+"Where have you been, Emily?" said Mrs. Fairchild; "we have almost done
+tea."
+
+"I have been playing with the cat upstairs, mamma," said Emily. But
+when she told this sad untruth she felt very unhappy, and her
+complexion changed once or twice from red to pale.
+
+It was a cold evening, and Emily kept as much away from the fire and
+candle as she could, lest any spots should be left in her frock, and
+her mother should see them. She had no opportunity, therefore, of
+drying or warming herself, and she soon began to feel quite chilled and
+trembling. Soon after a burning heat came into the palms of her hands,
+and a soreness about her throat; however, she did not dare to complain,
+but sat till bedtime, getting every minute more and more uncomfortable.
+
+It was some time after she was in bed, and even after her parents came
+to bed, before she could sleep; at last she fell asleep, but her sleep
+was disturbed by dreadful dreams, such as she had never experienced
+before. It was her troubled conscience, together with an uneasy body,
+which gave her these dreadful dreams; and so horrible were they, that
+at length she awoke, screaming violently. Her parents heard her cry,
+and came running in to her, bringing a light; but she was in such a
+terror that at first she did not know them.
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "this child is in a burning fever!
+Only feel her hands!"
+
+It was true, indeed; and when Mr. Fairchild felt her, he was so much
+frightened that he resolved to watch by her all night, and in the
+morning, as soon as it was light, to send John for the doctor. But what
+do you suppose Emily felt all this time, knowing, as she did, how she
+had brought on this illness, and how she had deceived for many days
+this dear father and mother, who now gave up their own rest to attend
+her?
+
+Emily continued to get worse during the night: neither was the doctor
+able, when he came, to stop the fever which followed the severe chill
+she had taken, though he did his uttermost. It would have grieved you
+to have seen poor Lucy and Henry. They could neither read nor play,
+they missed their dear sister so much. They continually said to each
+other, "Oh, Emily! dear Emily! there is no pleasure without our dear
+Emily!"
+
+The next day, when the doctor came, Emily was so very ill that he
+thought it right that Lucy and Henry should be sent out of the house.
+Accordingly, John got the horse ready, and took them to Mrs.
+Goodriche's. Poor Lucy and Henry! How bitterly they cried when they
+went out of the gate, thinking that perhaps they might never see their
+dear Emily any more! It was a terrible trial to poor Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild. They had no comfort but in praying and watching by poor
+Emily's bed. And all this grief Emily brought upon her friends by her
+own naughtiness.
+
+Emily was exceedingly ill for nine days, and everyone feared that if
+the fever continued a few days longer she must die; when, by the mercy
+of God, it suddenly left her, and she fell asleep and continued
+sleeping for many hours.
+
+When she awoke, she was very weak, but her fever was gone. She kissed
+her parents, and wanted to tell them of the naughty things she had
+done, which had been the cause of the illness, but they would not allow
+her to speak.
+
+From that day she got better, and at the end of another week was so
+well that she was able to sit up and tell Mrs. Fairchild all the
+history of her stealing the damsons, and of the sad way in which she
+had got the fever.
+
+"Oh, mamma," said Emily, "what a naughty girl have I been! What trouble
+have I given to you, and to papa, and to the doctor, and to Betty! I
+thought that God would take no notice of my sin. I thought He did not
+see when I was stealing in the dark. But I was much mistaken. His eye
+was upon me all the time. And yet how good, how very good, He has been
+to me! When I was ill, I might have died. And oh, mamma! mamma! how
+unhappy you would have been then!"
+
+
+
+
+Emily's Recovery, and the Old Story of Mrs. Howard
+
+[Illustration: "What sound is that I hear?" said Emily]
+
+
+After Emily's fever was gone, she got rapidly better every day. Her
+kind mother never left her, but sat by her bed and talked to her, and
+provided everything which was likely to do her good.
+
+When she was well enough, Mr. Fairchild borrowed Farmer Jones's covered
+cart for two days; and he set out, with Mrs. Fairchild and Emily, to
+fetch Henry and Lucy from Mrs. Goodriche's. It was a lovely morning at
+the finest season of the year. The little birds were singing in the
+hedges, and the grass and leaves of the trees shone with the dew. When
+John drove the cart out of the garden-gate and down the lane, "Oh,"
+said Emily, "how sweet the honeysuckles and the wild roses smell in the
+hedges! There, mamma, are some young lambs playing in the fields by
+their mothers; and there is one quite white--not a spot about it. It
+turns its pretty face towards us. How mild and gentle it looks!"
+
+Whilst they were talking, the cart had come alongside a wood, which was
+exceedingly shady and beautiful. Many tufts of primroses, violets, and
+wood-anemones grew on the banks by the wayside; and as the wind blew
+gently over these flowers, it brought a most delightful smell.
+
+"What sound is that which I hear among the trees?" said Emily. "It is
+very sweet and soft."
+
+"That is the cooing of wood-pigeons or doves," said Mr. Fairchild. "And
+look, Emily, there they are! They are sitting upon the branch of a
+tree; there are two of them."
+
+"Oh, I see them!" said Emily. "Oh, how soft and pretty they look! But
+now the noise of the cart has frightened them; they are flown away."
+
+By this time the cart had passed through the wood, and they were come
+in sight of Mrs. Goodriche's white house standing in a little garden
+under a hill.
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma!" said Emily, "there is Mrs. Goodriche's house! And I
+shall see my dear Lucy and Henry in a very little time."
+
+Just as Emily spoke, they saw Lucy and Henry step out of the
+house-door, and come running towards the cart. It would have pleased
+you to the heart had you seen how rejoiced these dear children were to
+meet each other. Mr. Fairchild lifted Henry and Lucy into the cart; and
+they cried for joy when they put their arms around dear Emily's neck.
+
+"Oh, Emily, Emily!" said Henry. "If you had died, I never would have
+played again."
+
+"God be praised!" said Mr. Fairchild. "Our dear Emily has been spared
+to us."
+
+When the cart came up to Mrs. Goodriche's garden-gate, the good old
+lady came to receive Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, and to kiss Emily; and
+Sukey peeped out of the kitchen-window, not less pleased than her
+mistress to see Emily in good health.
+
+Whilst Sukey was getting the dinner, Emily and her brother and
+sister went to play in the garden. Henry showed Emily some rabbits
+which Mrs. Goodriche had, and some young ducks which had been hatched a
+few days before, with many other pretty things. When dinner was ready,
+Mrs. Fairchild called the children in, and they all sat down, full of
+joy, to eat roast fowl and some boiled bacon, with a nice cold currant
+and raspberry pie.
+
+[Illustration: "_Emily and her brother and sister went to play in the
+garden._"--Page 68.]
+
+After dinner Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche, with the
+children, walked as far as the wood where Emily had seen the doves, to
+gather strawberries, which they mixed with some cream and sugar at
+night for their supper.
+
+The next morning, after breakfast, Mr. Fairchild went out to take a
+walk. Then Mrs. Goodriche called the three children to her, and said:
+
+"Now, my dear children, I will tell you a story. Come, sit round me
+upon these little stools, and hearken."
+
+The children were very much pleased when they heard Mrs. Goodriche say
+she would tell them a story, for Mrs. Goodriche could tell a great many
+pretty stories.
+
+
+The Old Story of Mrs. Howard
+
+"About fifty years ago," said Mrs. Goodriche, "a little old lady, named
+Mrs. Howard, lived in this house with her maid Betty. She had an old
+horse called Crop, which grazed in that meadow, and carried Betty to
+market once a week. Mrs. Howard was one of the kindest and most
+good-natured old ladies in England. Three or four times every year
+Betty had orders, when she went to market, to bring all manner of
+playthings and little books from the toy-shop. These playthings and
+pretty little books Mrs. Howard used to keep by her till she saw any
+children whom she thought worthy of them. But she never gave any
+playthings to children who did not obey their parents, or who were rude
+or ill-mannered, for she would say, 'It is a great sin in the eyes of
+God for children to be rude and unmannerly.' All the children in the
+neighbourhood used from time to time to visit Mrs. Howard; and those
+who wished to be obliging never came away without some pretty plaything
+or book.
+
+"At that time there were in this country two families of the name of
+Cartwright and Bennet; the former much beloved by the neighbours on
+account of their good qualities; the latter as much disliked for their
+bad ones.
+
+"Mr. Bennet was a rich farmer, and lived in a good old house, with
+everything handsome and plentiful about him; but nobody cared to go
+near him or to visit his wife, because their manners were so rough and
+disobliging; and their two children, Master Jacky and Miss Polly, were
+brought up only to please themselves and to care for nobody else. But,
+on the contrary, Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright made their house so agreeable
+by their civil and courteous manners that high and low, rich and poor,
+loved to go there; and Master Billy and Miss Patty Cartwright were
+spoken well of throughout the whole neighbourhood for their pretty and
+modest behaviour.
+
+"It happened once upon a time that Betty went to town at the end of the
+Midsummer Fair, and brought some of the prettiest toys and books which
+had been seen in this country for a long time; amongst these was a
+jointed doll with flaxen hair, and a history of the Bible full of
+coloured pictures, exceedingly pretty. Soon after Betty brought these
+things home, Mrs. Howard said to her: 'Betty, you must make a cake and
+put some plums in it, and a large apple-pie, and some custards and
+cheesecakes; and we will invite Master and Miss Cartwright, and Master
+Bennet and his sister Miss Polly, and some other children, to spend a
+day with us; and before they go home, we will give those who have
+behaved well during the day some of those pretty toys which you brought
+from the Midsummer Fair.'
+
+"Accordingly, Betty made the cake, and the cheesecakes, and custards,
+and the large apple-pie; and Mrs. Howard sent to invite Master and Miss
+Cartwright, and Master Bennet and his sister, to spend the next day
+with her.
+
+"In those days little misses did not wear muslin or linen frocks,
+which, when they are dirtied, may easily be washed and made clean
+again; but they wore stuff, silk, and satin slips, with lace or gauze
+ruffles, and bibs, and aprons, and little round caps with artificial
+flowers. Children were then taught to be very careful never to dirty
+their best clothes, and to fold them up very smooth when they pulled
+them off.
+
+"When Mrs. Bennet received Mrs. Howard's invitation for her children,
+she called them to her, and said:
+
+"'My dears, you are to go to-morrow to see Mrs. Howard; and I have been
+told that she has by her some very pretty toys, which she means to give
+away to those children who please her best. You have seen the gilt
+coach-and-four which she gave last year to Miss Cartwright, and the
+little watch which Master Cartwright received from her last Christmas;
+and why should not you also have some of these fine toys? Only try to
+please the old lady to-morrow, and I dare say she will give you some;
+for I am sure you are quite as good as Master and Miss Cartwright,
+though you are not quite so sly.'
+
+"'Oh!' said Master Bennet, 'I should like to get the toys, if it was
+only to triumph over Master Cartwright. But what must we do to please
+Mrs. Howard?'
+
+"'Why,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'when your best things are put on to-morrow,
+you must take care not to rumple or soil them before you appear in Mrs.
+Howard's presence; and when you come into her parlour you must stop at
+the door, and bow low and curtsey; and when you are desired to sit
+down, you must sit still till dinner is brought in; and when dinner is
+ready, you must stand up and say grace before you eat; and you must
+take whatever is offered you, without saying, "I will have this," and
+"I will have that," as you do at home.'
+
+"Mrs. Bennet gave her children a great many other rules for their
+behaviour in Mrs. Howard's presence, which I have not time to repeat
+now," said Mrs. Goodriche; "all of which Master Jacky and Miss Polly
+promised to remember, for they were very desirous to get the
+playthings.
+
+"And now I will tell you what Mrs. Cartwright said to her children when
+she got Mrs. Howard's invitation. She called them to her, and said:
+
+"'Here, Billy--here, Patty, is a note from Mrs. Howard to invite you to
+spend the day with her to-morrow; and I am glad of it, because I know
+you love to go to Mrs. Howard's, she is so good to all children, and
+has been particularly kind to you. I hear she has some pretty
+playthings by her now to give away; but don't you be greedy of them, my
+dears. You have a variety of playthings, you know--more than most
+children have, and it does not become anyone to be covetous. And
+remember, my dear children, to behave civilly and politely to
+everybody.'
+
+"And now I will tell you how these children behaved. About eleven
+o'clock Mrs. Cartwright had her two children dressed in their best, and
+sent them with the maid-servant to Mrs. Howard's. As they were walking
+quietly over a corn-field, through which they must needs pass, they
+saw Master and Miss Bennet with their servant sitting on a stile at
+the farther end of the field.
+
+"'Oh!' said Miss Patty, 'there are Master and Miss Bennet--on the way,
+I suppose, to Mrs. Howard's. I am sorry we have met with them; I am
+afraid they will get us into some mischief.'
+
+"'Why should you say so?' said Master Cartwright. 'Let us speak of
+things as we may find them.'
+
+"When Master and Miss Cartwright came near the stile, Master Bennet
+called to them:
+
+"'What a long time you have been coming over the field! We have been
+waiting for you this half-hour,' said he. 'Come, now, let us join
+company. I suppose that you are going, as we are, to Mrs. Howard's.'
+
+"Master Cartwright answered civilly, and all the children, with the two
+servants, got over the stile and went down a pretty lane which was
+beyond.
+
+"The children walked on quietly till they came to a duck-pond, partly
+overgrown with weeds, which was at the farther end of the lane. When
+they came near to this, Master Bennet whispered to his sister:
+
+"'I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk slip.'
+
+[Illustration: "_I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk
+slip._"--Page 77.]
+
+"'Do, Jack,' answered Miss Polly.
+
+"Master Bennet then, winking at his sister, went up to the pond, and
+pulling up some of the weeds, which were all wet and muddy, he threw
+them at Miss Cartwright's slip, saying, at the same time:
+
+"'There, Miss, there is a present for you.'
+
+"But, as it happened, Miss Cartwright saw the weeds coming, and caught
+them in her hand, and threw them from her. Upon this Master Bennet was
+going to pluck more weeds, but Mr. Cartwright's maid-servant held his
+hands, whilst little Billy and his sister ran forwards to Mrs.
+Howard's house, which was just in sight, as fast as their feet would
+carry them.
+
+"'There, now,' said Miss Polly, 'those spiteful children have gone to
+tell Mrs. Howard what you have done, brother, and we shall not get any
+toys. You are always in mischief, that you are.'
+
+"'I am sure you told me to throw the weeds,' answered Master Bennet.
+
+"'I am sure I did not,' said Miss Polly.
+
+"'But you knew that I was going to do it,' said he.
+
+"'But I did not,' said she.
+
+"'But you did, for I told you,' said he.
+
+"In this manner this brother and sister went on scolding each other
+till they came to Mrs. Howard's gate. There Miss Polly smoothed her
+apron, and Master Jacky combed his hair with his pocket-comb, and they
+walked hand-in-hand into Mrs. Howard's parlour as if nothing had
+happened. They made a low bow and curtsey at the door, as their mamma
+had bidden them; and Mrs. Howard received them very kindly, for Master
+and Miss Cartwright had not mentioned a word of their ill-behaviour on
+the road.
+
+"Besides Master and Miss Cartwright, there were several other children
+sitting in Mrs. Howard's parlour, waiting till dinner should be set on
+the table. My mother was there," said Mrs. Goodriche--"she was then a
+very little girl--and your grandmother and great-uncle, both young
+ones; with many others now dead and gone. In one corner of the parlour
+was a cupboard with glass doors, where Mrs. Howard had placed such of
+those pretty toys (as I before spoke of) which she meant to give away
+in the afternoon. The prettiest of these was the jointed doll, neatly
+dressed in a green satin slip, and gauze apron and bib.
+
+"By the time Master and Miss Bennet had made their bow and curtsey,
+and were seated, Betty came in with the dinner, and Mrs. Howard called
+the children to table. Master and Miss Bennet, seeing the beautiful
+toys before them through the glass doors of the cupboard, did not
+forget to behave themselves well at table; they said grace and ate such
+things as were offered them; and Mrs. Howard, who noticed their good
+behaviour, began to hope that Farmer Bennet's children were becoming
+better.
+
+"After the children had got their dinner, it being a very pleasant
+afternoon, Mrs. Howard gave them leave to play in the garden, and in
+the little croft, where she kept her old horse Crop.
+
+"'But take care, my dears,' she said to the little girls, 'not to soil
+your slips or tear your aprons.'
+
+"The children were much pleased with this permission to play; and after
+they were gone out, Mrs. Howard put on her hood and cloak, and said to
+Betty:
+
+"'I shall drink tea, Betty, in my bower at the end of the grass walk;
+do you bring my little tea-table there, and the strawberries and cream,
+and the cake which you made yesterday; and when we have finished our
+tea, bring those toys which are in the glass cupboard to divide amongst
+the children.'
+
+"'And I think, madam,' said Betty, 'that Master and Miss Bennet will
+gain some of them to-day, for I thought they behaved very well at
+dinner.'
+
+"'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, 'I must say I never saw them behave
+so mannerly as they did at dinner, and if they do but keep it up till
+night, I shall not send them home without some pretty present, I assure
+you.'
+
+"When Mrs. Howard had given her orders to Betty, she took her
+gold-headed stick in her hand, and went down the grass walk to her
+bower. It was a pretty bower, as I have heard my mother say, formed of
+honeysuckles and other creeping shrubs nailed over a framework of lath
+in the old-fashioned way. It stood just at the end of that long green
+walk, and at the corner of the field; so that anyone sitting in the
+bower might see through the lattice-work and foliage of the
+honeysuckles into the field, and hear all that was said. There good
+Mrs. Howard sat knitting (for she prepared stockings for most of the
+poor children in the neighbourhood), whilst her little visitors played
+in the garden and in the field, and Betty came to and fro with the
+tea-table and tea-things.
+
+"Whilst the children were all engaged with their sports in the croft, a
+poor old man, who had been gathering sticks, came by that way, bending
+under the weight of the load. When he appeared, the children ceased
+from their play, and stood looking at him.
+
+"'Poor man!' said Miss Patty Cartwright, 'those sticks are too heavy
+for you to carry. Have you far to go?'
+
+"'No, my pretty miss,' said the old man; 'only a very little way.'
+
+"'I cannot help to carry your sticks,' said Master Cartwright, 'because
+I have my best coat on. I could take off that, to be sure, but then my
+other things would be spoiled; but I have got a penny here, if you
+please to accept it.' So saying, he forced the penny into the poor
+man's hand.
+
+"In the meantime, Master Bennet went behind the old man, and giving the
+sticks a sly pull, the string that tied them together broke, and they
+all came tumbling on the ground. The children screamed, but nobody was
+hurt.
+
+"'Oh, my sticks!' said the poor man; 'the string is broke! What shall I
+do to gather them together again? I have been all day making this
+little faggot.'
+
+"'We will help you,' said Master Cartwright; 'we can gather your
+sticks together without fear of hurting our clothes.'
+
+"So all the little ones set to work (excepting Master and Miss Bennet,
+who stood by laughing), and in a little while they made up the poor
+man's bundle of sticks again, and such as had a penny in their pockets
+gave it him. Miss Patty Cartwright had not a penny, but she had a
+silver sixpence, which she gave to the old man, and ran before him to
+open the gate (which led out of the field), wishing him good-night, and
+curtseying to him as civilly as if he had been the first lord of the
+land.
+
+"Now the children never suspected that Mrs. Howard had heard and seen
+all this, or else Master and Miss Bennet, I am sure, would not have
+behaved as they did. They thought Mrs. Howard was in the parlour, where
+they had left her.
+
+"By this time everything was ready for tea, and the cake set upon the
+table, with the strawberries and cream.
+
+"'And now, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, 'you may call the children; and be
+sure, when tea is over, to bring the toys.'
+
+"Master and Miss Bennet looked as demure when they came in to tea as
+they had done at dinner, and a stranger would have thought them as
+well-behaved children as Master and Miss Cartwright; but children who
+behave well in the sight of their parents, or in company, and rudely or
+impertinently in private, or among servants or their playfellows,
+cannot be called well-bred.
+
+"After the young people had had their tea and cake, and strawberries
+and cream, Betty came with the playthings, and placed them on the table
+before Mrs. Howard. You would, perhaps, like to know what these
+playthings were:--First of all was the jointed doll, dressed, as I
+before said, in a green satin slip, and a gauze bib and apron, and
+round cap, according to the fashion of those days; then there was the
+History of the Bible, with coloured pictures; then came a little chest
+of drawers, for dolls' clothes; a doll's wicker cradle; a bat and ball;
+a red morocco pocket-book; a needle-book; and the History of King
+Pepin, bound and gilt. These beautiful books and toys were placed on
+the table before Mrs. Howard, and the little ones waited in silence to
+see what she would do with them. Mrs. Howard looked first at the
+playthings, and then at the children, and thus she spoke:
+
+"'My dear children, I sent for these pretty toys from the fair, in
+order to encourage you to be good: there is nothing that gives me
+greater pleasure than to see children polite and mannerly, endeavouring
+to please everybody, "in honour preferring one another," as God hath
+commanded us to do. Pride and ill manners, my dear children, are great
+faults; but humility, and a wish to please everyone rather than
+ourselves, make us resemble the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, who did not
+despise the poorest among men. Many persons are polite and
+good-mannered when in company with their betters, because, if they were
+not so, people would have nothing to say to them: but really
+well-behaved persons are courteous and civil, not only when they are
+among their betters, but when they are with servants, or with poor
+people.'
+
+"Then Mrs. Howard took the jointed doll, and the History of the Bible,
+and gave the one to Miss Patty Cartwright, and the other to Master
+Billy, saying:
+
+"'I give you these, my children, because I observed your good manners,
+not only to me, but to the poor old man who passed through the croft
+with his bundle of sticks. To you, Master Bennet, and to you, Miss
+Polly, I shall not give anything; because you showed, by your
+behaviour to the old man, that your good manners were all an outside
+garb, which you put on and off like your Sunday clothes.'
+
+"Then Mrs. Howard gave the rest of the toys among the lesser children,
+commending them for helping the old man to gather his sticks together;
+and thus she dismissed them to their own houses, all of them, except
+Master Jacky and Miss Polly, jumping and skipping for joy."
+
+When Mrs. Goodriche had finished her story, Lucy said:
+
+"What a pretty story that is! I think Master and Miss Cartwright
+deserved those pretty toys--they were nice children: but I did not know
+that having rude manners was so very great a fault."
+
+"If you will think a minute, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "you will
+find that rude manners must be one sign of badness of heart: a person
+who has always a lowly opinion of himself, and proper love for his
+neighbour, will never be guilty of rudeness; it is only when we think
+ourselves better than others, or of more consequence than they are,
+that we venture to be rude. I have heard you say how rude Miss Augusta
+Noble was the last time you were at her house. Now, why was she rude,
+but because she thought herself better than her company? This is pride,
+and a great sin it is."
+
+
+
+
+Sad Story of a Disobedient Child
+
+[Illustration: Looking in the glass, with a candle in her hand]
+
+
+When Mr. Fairchild returned from his walk he found John ready with the
+cart, so, wishing Mrs. Goodriche a good-evening, and thanking her for
+her kindness, they returned home.
+
+The next morning Mr. Fairchild got up early, and went down to the
+village. Breakfast was ready, and Mrs. Fairchild and the children
+waiting at the table, when he came back.
+
+"Get your breakfast, my dear," said he to Mrs. Fairchild; "don't wait
+for me." So saying, he went into his study and shut the door.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild, supposing that he had some letters to write, got her
+breakfast quietly; after which she sent Lucy to ask her father if he
+would not choose any breakfast. When Mr. Fairchild heard Lucy's voice
+at the study-door, he came out, and followed her into the parlour.
+
+When Mrs. Fairchild looked at her husband's face she saw that something
+had grieved him very much. She was frightened, and said:
+
+"My dear, I am sure something is the matter; what is it? Tell me the
+worst at once; pray do!"
+
+"Indeed, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild, "I have heard something this
+morning which has shocked me dreadfully. I was not willing to tell you
+before you had breakfasted. I know what you will feel when you hear
+it."
+
+"Do tell me," said Mrs. Fairchild, turning quite white.
+
+"Poor Augusta Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"What, papa?" said Lucy and Emily and Henry, in one voice.
+
+"She is dead!" exclaimed Mr. Fairchild.
+
+The children turned as pale as their mother; and poor Mrs. Fairchild
+nearly fainted.
+
+"Oh! poor Lady Noble! poor Lady Noble!" said she, as soon as she could
+speak. "Poor Lady Noble!"
+
+Whilst the children were crying over the sad news Mrs. Barker came into
+the parlour. Mrs. Barker was a kind woman, and, as she lived by
+herself, was always at liberty to go amongst her neighbours in times of
+trouble.
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Fairchild," she said, "I know what troubles you: we are all
+in grief through the whole village."
+
+"What was the cause of the poor child's death?" asked Mrs. Fairchild.
+"I never heard that she was ill."
+
+"Ah! Mrs. Fairchild, the manner of her death is the worst part of the
+story, and that which must grieve her parents more than all. You know
+that poor Miss Augusta was always the darling of her mother, who
+brought her up in great pride; and she chose a foolish governess for
+her who had no good influence upon her."
+
+"I never thought much of Miss Beaumont," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"As Miss Augusta was brought up without the fear of God," continued
+Mrs. Barker, "she had, of course, no notion of obedience to her
+parents, further than just trying to please them in their presence; she
+lived in the constant practice of disobeying them, and the governess
+continually concealed her disobedience from Lady Noble. And what is
+the consequence? The poor child has lost her life, and Miss Beaumont is
+turned out of doors in disgrace."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Fairchild, "how did she lose her life through
+disobedience to her parents? Pray tell me, Mrs. Barker."
+
+"The story is so sad I hardly like to tell it you," answered Mrs.
+Barker; "but you must know it sooner or later. Miss Augusta had a
+custom of playing with fire, and carrying candles about, though Lady
+Noble had often warned her of the danger of this habit, and strictly
+charged her governess to prevent it. But it seems that the governess,
+being afraid of offending, had suffered her very often to be guilty of
+this piece of disobedience, without telling Lady Noble. And the night
+before last, when Lady Noble was playing at cards in the drawing-room
+with some visitors, Miss Augusta took a candle off the hall table, and
+carried it upstairs to the governess's room. No one was there, and it
+is supposed that Miss Augusta was looking in the glass with a candle in
+her hand, when the flame caught her dress; but this is not known. Lady
+Noble's maid, who was in the next room, was alarmed by her dreadful
+screams, and, hastening to discover the cause, found poor Augusta in a
+blaze from head to foot. The unhappy young lady was so dreadfully burnt
+that she never spoke afterwards, but died in agonies last night."
+
+When Mrs. Fairchild and the children heard this dreadful story they
+were very much grieved. Mrs. Barker stayed with them all day; and it
+was, indeed, a day of mourning through all the house.
+
+
+
+
+The Two Books
+
+[Illustration: "Please choose a book for me"]
+
+
+It was the time of the Midsummer Fair, and John asked Mr. Fairchild's
+leave to go to the fair.
+
+"You may go, John," said Mr. Fairchild; "and take the horse, and bring
+everything that is wanting in the family."
+
+So John got the horse ready, and set out early in the morning to go to
+the fair; but before he went Emily and Lucy gave him what money they
+had, and begged him to bring them each a book. Emily gave him twopence,
+and Lucy gave him threepence.
+
+"You must please choose a book for me with pictures in it," said Emily.
+
+"I do not care about pictures," said Lucy, "if it is a pretty book. So
+pray don't forget, John."
+
+In the evening, after tea, the children and their father and mother, as
+usual, got ready to take a walk; and the children begged Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild to go with them to meet John. "For John," said Henry, "will
+be coming back now, and will have brought us some pretty books."
+
+So Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild took the road which led towards the town
+where the fair was held, and the children ran before them. It was a
+fine evening. The hedges were full of wild roses, which smelt most
+sweet; and the haymakers were making hay in the fields on each side of
+the road.
+
+"I cannot think where John can be," said Henry. "I thought he would be
+here long before now."
+
+By this time they were come to the brow of a rising ground; and looking
+before them, behold, there was John at a distance! The children all ran
+forward to meet him.
+
+"Where are the books, John? Oh, where are the books?" they all said
+with one voice.
+
+John, who was a very good-natured man, as I have before said, smiled,
+and, stopping his horse, began to feel in his pockets; and soon brought
+out, from among other things, two little gilt books; the largest of
+which he gave to Lucy, and the other to Emily, saying:
+
+"Here is two pennyworth--and here is three pennyworth."
+
+"Indeed, John, you are very good," said the children. "What beautiful
+books!"
+
+"My book," said Emily, "is 'The History of the Orphan Boy,' and there
+are a great many pictures in it: the first is a picture of a
+funeral--that must be the funeral of the poor little boy's papa and
+mamma, I suppose."
+
+"Let me see, let me see," said Henry. "Oh, how pretty! And what's your
+book, Lucy?"
+
+"There are not many pictures in my book," said Lucy; "but there is one
+at the beginning: it is the picture of a little boy reading to
+somebody lying in a bed; and there is a lady sitting by. The name of my
+book is 'The History of Little Henri, or the Good Son.'"
+
+"Oh, that must be very pretty," said Henry.
+
+By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come up.
+
+"Oh, papa! oh, mamma!" said the little ones, "what beautiful books John
+has brought!"
+
+"Indeed," said Mr. Fairchild, when he had looked at them a little
+while, "they appear to be very nice books, and the pictures in them are
+very pretty."
+
+"Henry shall read them to us, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "whilst
+we sit at work; I should like to hear them very much."
+
+"To-morrow," said Mr. Fairchild, looking at his wife, "we begin to make
+hay in the Primrose Meadow. What do you say? Shall we go after
+breakfast, and take a cold dinner with us, and spend the day under the
+trees at the corner of the meadow? Then we can watch the haymakers, and
+Henry can read the books whilst you and his sisters are sewing."
+
+"Oh, do let us go! do let us go!" said the children; "do, mamma, say
+yes."
+
+"With all my heart, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+The next morning early the children got everything ready to go into the
+Primrose Meadow. They had each of them a little basket, with a lid to
+it, in which they packed up their work and the new books; and, as soon
+as the family had breakfasted, they all set out for the Primrose
+Meadow: Mr. Fairchild, with a book in his pocket for his own reading;
+Mrs. Fairchild, with her work-bag hanging on her arm; Betty, with a
+basket of bread and meat and a cold fruit-pie; and the children with
+their work-baskets and Emily's doll, for the little girls seldom went
+out without their doll. The Primrose Meadow was not a quarter of a mile
+from Mr. Fairchild's house: you had only the corner of a little copse
+to pass through before you were in it. It was called the Primrose
+Meadow because every spring the first primroses in the neighbourhood
+appeared on a sunny bank in that meadow. A little brook of very clear
+water ran through the meadow, rippling over the pebbles; and there were
+many alders growing by the water-side.
+
+The people were very busy making hay in the meadow when Mr. Fairchild
+and his family arrived. Mrs. Fairchild sat down under the shade of a
+large oak-tree which grew in the corner of the coppice, and Lucy and
+Henry, with Emily, placed themselves by her. The little girls pulled
+out their work, and Henry the new books. Mr. Fairchild took his book to
+a little distance, that he might not be disturbed by Henry's reading,
+and he stretched himself upon a green bank.
+
+"Now, mamma," said Henry, "are you ready to hear my story? And have you
+done fidgeting, sisters?" For Lucy and Emily had been bustling to make
+a bed for their doll in the grass with their pocket-handkerchiefs.
+
+"Brother," answered Lucy, "we are quite ready to hear you--read away;
+there is nothing now to disturb you, unless you find fault with the
+little birds who are chirping with all their might in these trees, and
+those bees which are buzzing amongst the flowers in the grass."
+
+"First," said Henry, "look at the picture at the beginning of the
+book--the picture of the funeral going through the churchyard."
+
+"Let me see, brother," said Emily.
+
+"Why, you have seen it several times," said Henry; "and now I want to
+read."
+
+"Still, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you might oblige your sister.
+Good manners and civility make everybody lovely. Have you forgotten
+Mrs. Goodriche's story of Master Bennet?"
+
+Henry immediately got up, and showed his sister the picture, after
+which he sat down again and began to read the story in Emily's book.
+
+[Illustration: "_Henry reads the story._"--Page 91.]
+
+
+
+
+The History of the Orphan Boy
+
+[Illustration: Marten behaved well at breakfast]
+
+
+"In a little flowery valley near Tenterden there lived once a certain
+farmer who had a wife and one little boy, whose name was Marten. The
+farmer and his wife were people who feared God and loved their
+neighbours, and though they were not rich, they were contented. In the
+same parish lived two gentlemen, named Squire Broom and Squire Blake,
+as the country people called them. Squire Broom was a man who feared
+God; but Squire Blake was one of those men who cared for nothing beyond
+the things of this world. He was a very rich man, and was considered by
+the neighbours to be good-tempered. His lady kept a plentiful house,
+and was glad to see anyone who came. They had no children, and, as they
+had been married many years, it was thought they never would have any.
+Squire Broom was not so rich as Squire Blake, and, though a very worthy
+man, was not of such pleasing manners, so that many people did not like
+him, though in times of distress he was one of the kindest friends in
+the world. Squire Broom had a very large family, which he brought up in
+an orderly, pious manner; but some of the neighbours did not fail to
+find fault with him for being too strict with his children.
+
+"When little Marten was about three years of age his father was killed
+as he was going to Tenterden market by a fall from his horse. This was
+so great a grief to his mother, who loved her husband very dearly, that
+she fell immediately into a bad state of health; and though she lived
+as much as two years after her husband, yet she was all that time a
+dying woman. There was nothing in the thoughts of death which made this
+poor woman unhappy at any time, excepting when she considered that she
+must leave her little Marten to strangers; and this grieved her the
+more because little Marten was a very tender child, and had always been
+so from his birth.
+
+"It happened a few weeks before her death, as little Marten's mother
+was lying on her couch, that one Mrs. Short, who lived in Tenterden,
+and spent her time in gossiping from house to house, came bustling into
+the room where Marten's mother lay.
+
+"'I am come to tell you,' said she, 'that Squire Blake's lady will be
+here just now.'
+
+"'It is some time since I have seen Mrs. Blake,' said Marten's mother;
+'but it is kind of her to visit me in my trouble.'
+
+"Whilst she was speaking Mr. Blake's carriage came up to the door, and
+Mrs. Blake stepped out. She came into the parlour in a very free and
+friendly manner, and, taking Marten's mother by the hand, she said she
+was very sorry to see her looking so ill.
+
+"'Indeed,' said the sick woman, 'I am very ill, dear madam, and I think
+that I cannot live longer than a few weeks; but God's will be done! I
+have no trouble in leaving this world but on account of little Marten;
+yet I know that God will take care of him, and that I ought not to be
+troubled on his account.'
+
+"Mrs. Blake then answered:
+
+"'As you have begun to speak upon the subject, I will tell you what
+particularly brought me here to-day.'
+
+"She then told her that, as she and Mr. Blake had a large fortune and
+no family, they were willing to take little Marten at her death and
+provide for him as their own. This was a very great and kind offer, and
+most people would have accepted it with joy; but the pious mother
+recollected that Mr. Blake was one who declared himself to be without
+religion; and she could not think of leaving her little boy to such a
+man. Accordingly she thanked Mrs. Blake for her kind offer--for a very
+kind offer it was--and said that she should feel obliged to her till
+her dying moment.
+
+"'But,' added she, 'I cannot accept of your friendship for my little
+boy, as I have a very dear Friend who would be disobliged if I did so.'
+
+"Mrs. Blake turned red, and was offended; for she had never once
+thought it possible that Marten's mother should refuse her offer; and
+Mrs. Short lifted up her hands and eyes, and looked as if she thought
+the poor sick woman little better than a fool.
+
+"'Well,' said Mrs. Blake, 'I am surprised, I must confess. However, you
+must know your own affairs best; but this I must say, that I think
+Marten may live long enough without having such another offer.'
+
+"'And I must say that you are standing in the child's way,' said Mrs.
+Short. 'Why, Mr. Blake can do ten times more for the child than his
+father could have done, had he lived a hundred years; and I think it
+very ungrateful and foolish in you to make such a return for Mr. and
+Mrs. Blake's kindness.'
+
+"'And pray,' said Mrs. Blake, 'who is this dear Friend who would be so
+much disobliged by your allowing us to take the boy?'
+
+"'I suppose it is Squire Broom,' said Mrs. Short; 'for who else can it
+be?'
+
+"'Yes,' said Mrs. Blake, 'I have no doubt it is, for Mr. Broom never
+loved my husband. But,' added she, looking at Marten's mother, 'you do
+very wrong if you think Mr. Broom could do as much for the child (even
+if he were willing) as my husband. Mr. Broom is not rich, and he has a
+great many children; whereas Mr. Blake has a very handsome fortune, and
+no near relation in the world. However, as you have once refused, I do
+not think I would take the boy now if you were to ask me.'
+
+"'I am very sorry,' answered Marten's mother, 'to appear unthankful to
+you; and perhaps, as I am a dying woman, I ought to tell you the true
+reason of my refusing your offer, though it may make you angry. I do
+not doubt but that you would be kind to little Marten, and I know that
+you have more to give him than his father could have had.'
+
+"She then, in a very delicate manner, hinted at Mr. Blake's irreligious
+opinions, and acknowledged that it was on the account of these that she
+had refused his protection for her son.
+
+"'The Lord Jesus Christ,' added she, 'is the dear Friend I spoke of, my
+dear madam, and the One I am afraid to offend by accepting Mr. Blake's
+offer. You are welcome to tell Mr. Blake all I say.'
+
+"Mrs. Blake made no answer, but got up, and, wishing Marten's mother
+and Mrs. Short a good-morning, went away very much offended.
+
+"When Mrs. Short was left with the sick woman she failed not to speak
+her mind to her, and that very plainly, by telling her that she
+considered her little better than a fool for what she had done.
+
+"Marten's mother answered: 'I am willing to be counted a fool for
+Christ's sake.'
+
+"The next day Marten's mother sent for Squire Broom; and when she had
+told him all that had passed between herself and Mrs. Blake, she asked
+him if he would take charge of poor little Marten when she was dead,
+and also of what little money she might leave behind her; and see that
+the child was put to a good school. Squire Broom promised that he would
+be a friend to the boy to the best of his power, and Marten's mother
+was sure that he would do what he promised, for he was a good man. And
+now, not to make our story too long, I must tell you that Marten's
+mother grew weaker and weaker, and about three weeks after she had had
+this conversation with Mrs. Blake she was found one morning dead in her
+bed; and it was supposed she died without pain, as Susan, the maid, who
+slept in the same room, had not heard her move or utter a sigh. She was
+buried in Tenterden churchyard, and Squire Broom, as he had promised,
+took charge of all her affairs.
+
+"And now, after having done with little Marten's good mother, I shall
+give you the history of the little boy himself, from the day when he
+was awoke and found his poor mother dead; and you shall judge whether
+God heard his mother's prayer, and whether He took care of the poor
+little orphan.
+
+"Marten's mother was buried on Saturday evening. On Sunday little
+Marten went and stood by his mother's grave, and no one but Susan could
+persuade him to come away. On Monday morning Squire Broom came in a
+one-horse chaise to take him to school at Ashford. The master of the
+school at that time was a conscientious man but Squire Broom did not
+know that he was so severe in the management of children as he proved
+to be.
+
+"Little Marten cried very much when he was put into the one-horse
+chaise with Squire Broom.
+
+"'Oh, let me stay with Susan! let me live with Susan!' he said.
+
+"'What!' said Squire Broom, 'and never learn to read? You must go to
+school to learn to read, and other things a man should know.'
+
+"'Susan shall teach me to read,' said little Marten.
+
+"Squire Broom promised him that he should come back in the summer, and
+see Susan, and little Marten tried to stop crying.
+
+"When little Marten got to Ashford school he was turned into a large
+stone hall, where about fifty boys were playing; he had never seen so
+many boys before, and he was frightened, and he crept into a corner.
+They all got round him, and asked him a great many questions, which
+frightened him more; and he began to cry and call for Susan. This set
+the boys a-laughing, and they began to pull him about and tease him.
+
+"Little Marten was a pretty child; he was very fair, and had beautiful
+blue eyes and red lips, and his dark brown hair curled all over his
+head; but he had always been very tender in his health; and the
+kickings and thumpings and beatings he got amongst the boys, instead of
+making him hardy, made him the more sickly and drooping.
+
+"The boys used to rise very early, and, after they had been an hour in
+school, they played in the churchyard (for the schoolroom stands in the
+churchyard) till the bell rang to call them to breakfast. In the
+schoolroom there was only one fireplace, and the lesser boys could
+never get near it, so that little Marten used to be so numbed with cold
+in the mornings (for winter was coming) that he could scarcely hold
+his book; and his feet and hands became so swelled with chilblains
+that, when the other boys went out to play, he could only creep after
+them. He was so stupefied with cold that he could not learn; he even
+forgot his letters, though he had known them all when his mother was
+alive; and, in consequence, he got several floggings. When his mother
+was living he was a cheerful little fellow, full of play, and quick in
+learning; but now he became dull and cast down, and he refused to eat;
+and he would cry and fret if anyone did but touch him. His poor little
+feet and hands were sore and bleeding with cold; so that he was afraid
+anyone should come near to touch him.
+
+"As the winter advanced it became colder and colder, and little Marten
+got a very bad cough, and grew very thin. Several people remarked to
+the schoolmaster, 'Little Marten is not well; he gets very thin.' 'Oh,
+he will be better,' the master would answer, 'when he is more used to
+us. Many children, when they first come to school, pine after home; but
+what can I do for him? I must not make any difference between him and
+the other boys.'
+
+"One morning in the beginning of December, when the boys were playing
+in the churchyard before breakfast, little Marten, not being able to
+run, or scarcely to walk, by reason of his chilblains, came creeping
+after them; his lips were blue and cold, and his cheeks white. He
+looked about for some place where he might be sheltered a little from
+the cold wind; and at length he ventured to creep into the porch of an
+old house, which stood on one side of the churchyard. The door of the
+house was open a little way, and Marten peeped in: he saw within a
+small neat kitchen, where was a bright fire; an elderly maid-servant
+was preparing breakfast before the fire; the tea-kettle was boiling;
+and the toast-and-butter and muffins stood ready to be carried into the
+parlour. A large old cat slept before the fire; and in one corner of
+the kitchen was a parrot upon a stand.
+
+"Whilst Marten was peeping in, and longing for a bit of
+toast-and-butter, a little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown,
+wearing a mob-cap and long ruffles, came into the kitchen by the inner
+door. She first spoke to the parrot, then stroked the cat; and then,
+turning towards the porch-door, she said (speaking to the maid):
+
+[Illustration: "_A little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown, came
+into the kitchen._"--Page 101.]
+
+"'Hannah, why do you leave the door open? The wind comes in very cold.'
+So saying, she was going to push the door to, when she saw poor little
+Marten. She observed his black coat, his little bleeding hands, and his
+pale face, and she felt very sorry for him. 'What little fellow are
+you?' she said, as she held the door in her hand. 'Where do you come
+from, and what do you want at my door?'
+
+"'My name is Marten,' he answered, 'and I am very cold.'
+
+"'Do you belong to the school, my dear?' said she.
+
+"'Yes, ma'am,' he answered; 'my mother is dead, and I am very cold.'
+
+"'Poor little creature!' said the old lady, whose name was Lovel. 'Do
+you hear what he says, Hannah? His mother is dead, and he is very cold!
+Do, Hannah, run over to the school-house, and ask the master if he will
+give this little boy leave to stay and breakfast with me.'
+
+"Hannah set down a tea-cup which she was wiping, and looking at Marten:
+
+"'Poor young creature!' she said. 'It is a pity that such a babe as
+this should be in a public school. Come in, little one, whilst I run
+over to your master and ask leave for you to stay a little with my
+mistress.'
+
+"Hannah soon returned with the master's leave, and poor little Marten
+went gladly upstairs into Mrs. Lovel's parlour. There Mrs. Lovel took
+off his wet shoes and damp stockings, and hung them to the fire, while
+she rubbed his little numbed feet till they were warm. In the meantime
+Hannah brought up the tea-things and toast-and-butter, and set all
+things in order upon the round table.
+
+"'You are very good,' said little Marten to Mrs. Lovel; 'I will come
+and see you every day.'
+
+"'You shall come as often as you please,' said Mrs. Lovel, 'if you are
+a good little boy.'
+
+"'Then I will come at breakfast-time, and at dinner-time, and at
+supper-time,' said Marten.
+
+"Mrs. Lovel smiled and looked at Hannah, who was bringing up the
+cream-pot, followed by the cat. Puss took her place very gravely at one
+corner of the table, without touching anything.
+
+"'Is that your cat, ma'am?' said Marten.
+
+"'Yes,' said Mrs. Lovel; 'and see how well she behaves: she never asks
+for anything, but waits till she is served. Do you think you can behave
+as well?'
+
+"'I will try, ma'am,' said Marten.
+
+"Mrs. Lovel then bade Marten fetch himself a chair, and they both sat
+down to breakfast. Marten behaved so well at breakfast that Mrs. Lovel
+invited him to come to her at dinner-time, and said she would send
+Hannah to his master for leave. She then put on his dry shoes and
+stockings; and as the bell rang, she sent him over to school. When
+school broke up at twelve o'clock, she sent Hannah again for him; and
+he came running upstairs, full of joy.
+
+"'This is a half-holiday, ma'am,' he said, 'and I may stay with you
+till bed-time: and I will come again to breakfast in the morning.'
+
+"'Very well,' said Mrs. Lovel; 'but if you come here so often you must
+do everything I bid you, and everything which Hannah bids you.'
+
+"'The same as I did to my poor mother, and to Susan?' said Marten.
+
+"'Yes, my dear,' said Mrs. Lovel.
+
+"'Then I will, ma'am,' said Marten.
+
+"So Marten sat down to dinner with Mrs. Lovel; and at dinner he told
+her all he knew of himself and his mother; and after dinner, when she
+gave him leave, he went down to the kitchen to visit Hannah, and to
+talk to the parrot, and to look about him till tea-time. At tea-time he
+came up again; and after tea Mrs. Lovel brought out a large Bible full
+of pictures, and told him one or two stories out of the Bible, showing
+him the pictures. At night Hannah carried him home, and he went warm
+and comfortable to bed.
+
+"Mrs. Lovel grew every day fonder of little Marten; and, as the little
+boy promised, he went to Mrs. Lovel's at breakfast, dinner, and supper;
+and Mrs. Lovel took the same care of him as his mother would have done,
+had she been living. She took charge of his clothes, mending them when
+they wanted it; prepared warm and soft woollen stockings for him,
+procured him a great-coat to wear in school, and got him some thick
+shoes to play in. She also would see that he learned his lessons well
+every day, to carry up to his master: she then practised him in reading
+out of school hours, so that it was surprising how quickly he now got
+on with his books. But the best of all was, that Mrs. Lovel from day to
+day gave such holy teaching to little Marten as was best adapted to
+make him a good man in after-life; and God blessed her teaching, and
+the boy soon became all that she could desire.
+
+"A little before Christmas, Squire Broom came over to Ashford to see
+little Marten, and determined in his own mind, if he saw the child
+unwell, or not happy, to take him home and bring him up amongst his own
+children; for Mrs. Broom had said that she thought little Marten almost
+too young to be at a public school, without a friend near him. Marten
+was standing in Mrs. Lovel's parlour window, which looked into the
+churchyard, when he saw Squire Broom's one-horse chaise draw up to the
+school-house door. Without speaking a word, he ran downstairs, and
+across the churchyard; and, taking Squire Broom's hand, as he stepped
+out of the chaise:
+
+"'I have got another mother, sir,' he said, 'a very good mother; and I
+love her with all my heart; and her name is Lovel; and you must come to
+see her.'
+
+"'Why, my little man,' said Squire Broom, 'you look very well, and
+quite fat.'
+
+"When Squire Broom heard from the master what a kind friend Marten had
+found, and was told by all his friends in Ashford what a worthy woman
+Mrs. Lovel was (everybody in Ashford knew Mrs. Lovel's good character),
+he was very much pleased on little Marten's account, and said his poor
+mother's prayers were now answered.
+
+"Little Marten could not be contented till he had brought Squire Broom
+to see Mrs. Lovel, and to drink tea with her. During this visit, Mrs.
+Lovel asked Mr. Broom if Marten might spend his Christmas holidays with
+her; and from that time the little boy spent all his holidays with Mrs.
+Lovel. In the summer holidays she often took him to a farmhouse in the
+country, where she had lodgings; and there he had the pleasure of
+seeing the haymaking, and hop-gathering, and all the country work, and
+of running about the fields. Once or twice she took him to Tenterden to
+see his old friends, particularly Susan, who lived with her mother in
+Tenterden.
+
+"Marten became a fine boy; and as he grew in stature he grew in grace.
+He was very fond of reading; and soon he became one of the best
+scholars of his age in the school. As Mrs. Lovel got older, her eyes
+became dim; and then Marten read to her, and managed her accounts, and
+was in all things as a dutiful son to her.
+
+"Marten continued with Mrs. Lovel till it was time he should leave
+school; and as he wished to become a clergyman, in order that he might
+spend his life in the service of God, Mrs. Lovel paid for his going to
+the University.
+
+"When Marten had been the proper time at the University, he was
+ordained a clergyman; and he then returned to Mrs. Lovel, and soon
+afterwards he got a living in a pretty village in Kent. There he went
+to reside; and Mrs. Lovel, who was now become very old indeed, lived
+with him. He was as kind to her, and to Hannah, as if he had been their
+own child: and, indeed, it was but his duty to be so: he did everything
+to make their last years happy, and their deaths easy. Mrs. Lovel left
+all she had, when she died, to Marten; so that he was enabled to live
+in great comfort. Some time after Mrs. Lovel's death, he married Squire
+Broom's youngest daughter, who made him a kind and good wife, and
+helped him to bring up their children well. Susan, who was now an
+elderly woman, took the place of Hannah when Hannah died, and never
+left her master till she herself died of old age."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By this time it was one o'clock; and the haymakers left off their work,
+and sat down in a row, by the brook-side, to eat their dinner. Mr.
+Fairchild called to his children from the place where he was lying, at
+a little distance, saying:
+
+"My dears, I begin to feel hungry. Lucy and Emily, see what Betty
+brought in the basket this morning; and you, Henry, go to the brook,
+and bring some water."
+
+So Henry took an empty pitcher out of the basket, and ran gaily down to
+the brook to fetch some water, whilst Lucy and Emily spread a clean
+napkin on the grass, on which they placed the knives and forks and
+plates, with the loaf and cheese, and the fruit-pie, and a bottle of
+beer for their papa; for Betty was gone back to the house; and when
+they had said grace, they dined: after which the children went to play
+in the coppice and amongst the hay, for a little while. When they had
+played as much as their mamma thought fit, they came back, and sat down
+to work, as they had done in the morning, whilst Henry read the story
+in Lucy's book.
+
+[Illustration: Marten goes to school]
+
+
+
+
+The History of Little Henri; or, The Good Son
+
+[Illustration: Henri stood at the window]
+
+
+"Every person who lives in England has heard of France. A small arm of
+the sea parts this country from France; but though a person may pass
+from England to France in a few hours, yet there is a great difference
+in the manners and customs of the French and English. A few years ago
+the French were governed by a king who had so much power, that, if he
+did not like any person, he could condemn him to be shut up for life at
+his pleasure, and nobody dared to inquire after him. The religion of
+the French was, and still is, Roman Catholic.
+
+"About one hundred and fifty years ago, there lived in France a certain
+great man, called the Baron of Bellemont: he was a proud man, and very
+rich; and his castle stood in one of the beautiful valleys of the
+Pyrenees, not far from the dwelling-places of those holy people the
+Waldenses."
+
+"What are Waldenses, mamma?" said Henry.
+
+"Why, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "many hundred years ago, when
+many of the nations of Europe were very wicked, a certain set of
+persons retired from the sight of the rest of mankind, and hid
+themselves in valleys amongst hills, where they led innocent and holy
+lives. These people, in some places, were called _Waldenses_; in
+others, _Valdenses_; and some were called _The poor Men of Lyons_,
+because there was a city called Lyons near their dwelling-places."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The Baron de Bellemont," continued Henry, reading again, "lived in a
+castle not far from the valley of the Waldenses. He had one daughter,
+of the name of Adelaide, who was very beautiful; and as she was to have
+much of her father's riches at his death, everybody flattered and
+seemed to admire her, and many rich and great men in France sought to
+marry her. The Baron had also a poor niece living with him, named
+Maria. Maria was not handsome, and she was poor; therefore, nobody who
+came to the castle took any notice of her: and her cousin Adelaide
+treated her more like a servant than a relation. Maria had been nursed
+among the Waldenses, and had learned, with God's blessing, all the holy
+doctrines of these people from her nurse.
+
+"When Adelaide and Maria were about twenty years of age, they were both
+married. Adelaide was married to the young Marquis de Roseville, one of
+the handsomest and richest men in France, and went to live in Paris
+with her husband, where she was introduced to the court of the king,
+and lived amongst the greatest and gayest people in France."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where is Paris, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"You know, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "that London is the
+chief town of England, and the residence of the Queen: in like manner,
+Paris is the chief town of France, and the Emperor of France's palace
+is in Paris."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Maria's husband," continued Henry, "was one of the pastors of the
+Waldenses, of the name of Claude: he lived in a small and neat cottage
+in a beautiful valley; he was a holy young man, and all his time and
+thoughts were given up to teaching his people and serving his God.
+Maria was much happier in her little cottage with her kind husband than
+she had been in the castle of the Baron. She kept her house clean, and
+assisted her husband in dressing their little garden and taking care of
+a few goats, which afforded them abundance of milk.
+
+"When the Marchioness of Roseville had been married twelve months she
+brought the Marquis a son, to whom his parents gave the name of
+Theodore. This child was so beautiful that he was spoken of in Paris as
+a wonder, and his parents, who were very proud and vain before, became
+more and more so. All the Marchioness's love seemed to be fixed upon
+this child, so that when, at the end of two years more, she had a
+second son born, she showed no affection whatever for him, although he
+was a lovely infant, not less beautiful than his brother, and of a
+tender and delicate constitution.
+
+"When this little infant, who was called Henri, was little more than
+two months old, the Marquis and Marchioness undertook a journey to the
+Castle of Bellemont, to visit the old Baron, bringing their two sons
+with them. The fatigue of the journey was almost too much for poor
+little Henri, who, when he arrived at his grandfather's castle, was so
+ill that it was supposed he could not live; but his mother, having no
+love but for the eldest child, did not appear to be in the least
+troubled by Henri's sickness.
+
+"As soon as Maria heard of her cousin's arrival at Bellemont she
+hastened over to see her, though she did not expect to be very kindly
+received. Maria, by this time, had two children, the youngest of which
+was more than a year old, and a very healthy child. When this kind
+woman saw poor little Henri, and found that his parents did not love
+him, she begged her cousin to allow her to take the poor infant to her
+cottage in the valleys, where she promised to take great care of him,
+and to be as a tender mother to him. The Marchioness was glad to be
+freed from the charge of the sick child, and Maria was equally glad to
+have the poor baby to comfort. Accordingly, she took the little Henri
+home with her, and he was brought up amongst her own children.
+
+"When the Marquis and Marchioness had remained a while at the Castle of
+Bellemont, they returned with their favourite Theodore to Paris; and
+there they delivered themselves up to all the vicious habits of that
+dissipated place. The Marchioness never stayed at home a single day,
+but spent her whole time in visiting, dancing, and playing at cards,
+and going to public gardens, plays, and musical entertainments. She
+painted her face, and dressed herself in every kind of rich and vain
+ornament, and tried to set herself off for admiration; but she had
+little regard for her husband, and never thought of God. She was bold
+in her manners, fond of herself, and hardhearted to everybody else. The
+only person for whom she seemed to care was her son Theodore; for as
+for little Henri, she seemed to have forgotten that she had such a
+child; but she delighted in seeing her handsome Theodore well dressed,
+and encouraged him to prattle before company, and to show himself off
+in public places, even when he was but an infant. She employed the
+most famous artists in Paris to draw his picture; she hired
+dancing-masters to teach him to carry himself well, and music-masters
+to teach him to sing and play; and sometimes, when he was to go out
+with her, she herself arranged his glossy hair, in order that he might
+look the handsomer. She employed many servants to attend upon him, and
+commanded them never to contradict him, but to do everything to please
+him. As she continued to lead this life she became every year more and
+more bold, and more hardened in wickedness; so that, from beginning to
+be careless about God, she proceeded in time to mock at religion. Nor
+was the Marquis any better than his wife; he was proud and quarrelsome,
+and loved no one but himself. He spent all his time amongst a set of
+wicked young men of his own rank; they sat up all night drinking and
+swearing and playing at cards for large sums of money.
+
+"In this manner they went on till Theodore was as much as fifteen years
+of age. In the meantime the old Baron had died and left all his money
+to his daughter; but the Marquis and Marchioness were none the better
+for all the riches left them by the Baron, for they became more and
+more wasteful, and more and more wicked.
+
+"About this time the King, who was a very wicked man, began to talk of
+driving the Waldenses out of their pleasant valleys, or forcing them to
+become Roman Catholics. He consulted the great men in Paris about it;
+and they gave it as their opinion that it would be right either to make
+them become Roman Catholics, or drive them out of the country. The
+Marquis, among the rest, gave his opinion against the Waldenses; never
+considering that he had a relation amongst them, and that his little
+son Henri was at that very time living with them.
+
+"Whilst these things were being talked of in the King's palace,
+Theodore was seized with a violent fever, and before anything could be
+done for him, or his father or mother had any time for consideration,
+the poor boy died. The Marchioness was like a distracted woman when
+Theodore died; she screamed and tore her hair, and the Marquis, to
+drive away the thoughts of his grief, went more and more into company,
+drinking and playing at cards. When the grief of the Marquis and
+Marchioness for the loss of their beautiful Theodore was a little
+abated, they began to turn their thoughts towards their son Henri, and
+they resolved to send for him. Accordingly, the Marquis sent a trusty
+servant to the valley of Piedmont, to bring Henri to Paris. The servant
+carried a letter from the Marquis to the Pastor Claude, thanking him
+for his kind attention to the child, and requesting him to send him
+immediately to Paris. The servant also carried a handsome sum of money
+as a present from the Marquis to Claude; which Claude, however, would
+not take.
+
+"Whilst all these things of which I have been telling you were
+happening at Paris, little Henri had been growing up in the humble yet
+pleasant cottage of Maria and the pious Claude. During the first years
+of his infancy he had been very delicate and tender, and no one would
+have reared him who had not loved him as tenderly as Maria had done;
+but from the time that she first saw him in the Castle of Bellemont,
+she had loved him with all the love of the tenderest mother.
+
+"Henri was very beautiful, though always pale, never having very strong
+health. He always had the greatest fear of doing anything which might
+displease God; he was gentle and humble to all around him, and to his
+little cousins, the sons of Claude, he was most affectionate and mild.
+When they were old enough, these three little boys used to go with the
+Pastor Claude when he went to visit his poor people in their little
+cottages among the valleys; and heard him read and pray with them. Thus
+they acquired, when very young, such a knowledge of God, and of the
+Holy Bible, as might have put to shame many older people.
+
+"Many of the cottages which Claude and his little boys used to visit
+were placed in spots of ground so beautiful that they would have
+reminded you of the Garden of Eden; some in deep and shady valleys,
+where the brooks of clear water ran murmuring among groves of trees and
+over mossy banks; some on high lawns on the sides of the mountains,
+where the eagles and mountain birds found shelter in the lofty forest
+trees; some of these cottages stood on the brows of rugged rocks, which
+jutted out from the side of the hills, on spots so steep and high that
+Claude's own little stout boys could scarcely climb them; and Claude
+was often obliged to carry little Henri up these steeps in his arms. In
+these different situations were flowers of various colours and of
+various kinds, and many beautiful trees, besides birds innumerable and
+wild animals of various sorts. Claude knew the names and natures of all
+these; and he often passed the time, as he walked, in teaching these
+things to his children. Neither did he neglect, as they got older, to
+give them such instructions as they could get from books. He taught his
+little boys first to read French, and afterwards he made them well
+acquainted with Latin and the history of ancient times, particularly
+the history of such holy people as have lived and died in the service
+of God--the saints and martyrs of old days. He also taught his little
+boys to write; and they could sing sweetly many of the old hymns and
+psalms which from time immemorial had been practised among the
+Waldenses.
+
+"Claude's own little sons were obliged to do many homely household
+jobs, to help their mother. They used to fetch the goats to the cottage
+door, along the hill-side path, and milk them and feed them; they used
+to weed the garden, and often to sweep the house and make up the fire.
+In all these things little Henri was as forward as the rest, though the
+son of one of the greatest men in France. But though this family were
+obliged to labour at the lowest work, yet they practised towards each
+other the most courteous and gentle manners.
+
+"In this manner Henri was brought up amongst the Waldenses till he was
+more than twelve years of age, at which time the servant came from his
+father, the Marquis, to bring him to Paris.
+
+"When the Marquis's letter arrived, all the little family in the Pastor
+Claude's house were full of grief.
+
+"'You must go, my dear child,' said the Pastor; 'you must go, my
+beloved Henri, for the Marquis is your father, and you must obey him;
+but oh! my heart aches when I think of the hard trials and temptations
+to which you will be exposed in the wicked world.'
+
+"'Yet I have confidence,' said Maria, wiping away her tears; 'I have
+prayed for this boy--this my dear boy; I have prayed for him a thousand
+and a thousand times; and I know that he is given to us: this our child
+will not be lost; I know he will not. He will be able to do all things
+well, Christ strengthening him.'
+
+"'Oh, Maria!' said the Pastor Claude, 'your faith puts me to shame; why
+should I doubt the goodness of God any more than you do?'
+
+"In the meantime Henri's grief was so great that, for some hours after
+the servant came, he could not speak. He looked on his dear father and
+mother, as he always called Claude and Maria, and on their two boys,
+who were like brothers to him; he looked on the cottage where he had
+spent so many happy days, and the woods and valleys and mountains,
+saying, beyond this he knew nothing; and he wished that he had been
+born Claude and Maria's child, and that he might be allowed to spend
+all his life, as Claude had done, in that delightful valley.
+
+"Whilst Maria, with many tears, was preparing things for Henri's
+journey, the Pastor took the opportunity of talking privately to him,
+and giving him some advice which he hoped might be useful to him. He
+took the child by the hand, and leading him into a solitary path above
+the cottage, where they could walk unseen and unheard, he explained to
+him the dangerous situation into which he was about to enter; he told
+him, with as much tenderness as possible, what his father's and his
+mother's characters were; that they never knew the fear of God, and
+that they acted as most persons do who are rich and powerful, and who
+are not led by Divine grace; and he pointed out to him how he ought to
+behave to his parents, telling him that he must not be led away, but
+must persevere in well-doing. These, with many other things, the good
+Claude besought Henri always to have in remembrance, as he hoped to see
+his Redeemer in the land which is very far off; and he ended by giving
+him a little Bible, in a small velvet bag, which he had received from
+his own father, and which he had been accustomed to carry in his pocket
+in all his visits to his poor people. In these days, Bibles are so
+common that every little boy and girl may have one; but this was not
+the case in former days; Bibles were very scarce and very difficult to
+get; and this Henri knew, and therefore he knew how to value this
+present.
+
+"It would only trouble you were I to describe the sorrow of Claude's
+family when, the next morning, Henri, according to his father's orders,
+was dressed in a rich suit of clothes, and set upon a horse, which was
+to carry him from among the mountains to the Castle of Bellemont, where
+the Marquis's carriage waited for him. Henri could not speak as the
+horses went down the valley, but the tears fell fast down his cheeks;
+every tree and every cottage which he passed, every pathway winding
+from the highroad among the hills, reminded him of some sweet walk
+taken with Claude and his sons, or with his dear foster-mother. As the
+road passed under one of the cottages which stood on the brow of a
+hill, Henri heard the notes of one of those sweet hymns which Maria had
+been accustomed to sing to him when he was a very little boy, and which
+she had afterwards taught him to sing himself. Henri's heart at that
+moment was ready to burst with grief, and though the servant was close
+to him, yet he broke out in these words:
+
+"'Farewell, farewell, sweet and happy home! Farewell, lovely, lovely
+hills! Farewell, beloved friends! I shall never, never see you again!'
+
+"'Do not give way to grief, sir,' said the servant; 'you are going to
+be a great man; you will see all the fine things in Paris, and be
+brought before the King.'
+
+"The servant then gave him a long account of the grandeur and pleasures
+of Paris; but Henri did not hear one word he said, for he was listening
+to the last faint sounds of the hymn, as they became more and more
+distant.
+
+"Nothing particular happened to Henri on his journey; and at the end of
+several days he arrived at the gates of his father's grand house at
+Paris. The Marchioness that evening (as was common with her) gave a
+ball and supper to a number of friends; and on this occasion the house
+was lighted up, and set off with all manner of ornaments. The company
+was just come, and the music beginning to play, when Henri was brought
+into the hall. As soon as it was known who was come, the servants ran
+to tell the Marquis and Marchioness, and they ran into the hall to
+receive their son. The beauty of Henri, and his lovely mild look, could
+not but please and delight his parents, and they said to each other, as
+they kissed him and embraced him:
+
+"'How could we live so long a stranger to this charming child?'
+
+"His mother had expected that her son would have had an awkward and low
+appearance; she was, therefore, greatly surprised at his courteous and
+polite manners, which delighted her as much as his beauty.
+
+"All that evening Henri remained silent, modest, and serious, and as
+soon as his parents would give him leave, he asked to go to bed. He was
+shown into a room richly furnished, and so large that the whole of
+Claude's little cottage would have gone into it. The servant who
+attended him would have undressed him; but he begged to be left alone,
+saying he had been used to dress and undress himself. As soon as the
+servant was gone, he took out his Bible and read a chapter; after
+which, kneeling down, he prayed his Almighty Father to take care of him
+now, in this time of temptation, when he feared he might be drawn aside
+to forget his God.
+
+"The young son of the Marquis de Roseville did not awake early, having
+been much tired with his journey. When he had dressed, he was taken to
+breakfast in his mother's dressing-room; she was alone, as the Marquis
+had gone out after the ball the night before, and was not returned. The
+Marchioness kissed Henri, and made him sit down by her, showing him
+every proof of her love; nevertheless, everything he saw and heard made
+him wish himself back again in the cottage amongst the hills. He could
+perceive by the daylight what he had not found out the night before,
+that his mother was painted white and red, and that she had a bold and
+fretful look, which made her large dark eyes quite terrible to him.
+
+"Whilst the Marchioness and Henri sat at breakfast, she asked him a
+great many questions about his education and manner of life among the
+mountains. He did not hide anything from her, but told her that he
+never intended to become a Roman Catholic. She answered that there was
+time enough yet before he need trouble himself about religion.
+
+"'You have a long life before you, Henri,' she said, 'and have many
+pleasures to enjoy; it will be well enough to become devout when you
+are near death.'
+
+"'May not death be near now?' said Henri, looking very serious. 'Had my
+brother Theodore any greater reason to expect death than I have? And
+yet he was suddenly called away.'
+
+"The Marchioness looked grave for a moment; then smiled, and said:
+
+"'Oh Henri, Henri, how laughable it is to hear one at your age speaking
+so seriously! Yet everything sounds prettily out of your mouth,' she
+added, kissing him, 'for you are a charming boy. But come,' she said,
+'I will be dressed; and we will go out and pay visits, and I will show
+you something of this fine city.'
+
+"When the Marchioness was dressed, she and Henri went out in the
+carriage; and, returning at dinner-time, they found the Marquis at
+home: he looked pale and fatigued, but was pleased to embrace his son,
+with whom he seemed better and better satisfied as he saw more of him.
+
+"The next day a tutor was appointed for Henri: he was a Roman Catholic
+priest; but although he bore the character of a clergyman, he seemed to
+have no thought of religion; he took great pains to teach Henri such
+things as he thought would please his father and mother, and make him
+appear clever before his fellow-creatures, but he had no desire to make
+him a good man. Besides this tutor, Henri had masters to teach him
+music and dancing and drawing, and all such things as were wont to be
+taught to the children of the great men at that time in France. Thus
+Henri's mornings were employed by attending on his masters; and his
+mother often in the evening took him out to pay visits, and to balls
+and public amusements. He was introduced several times to the King, and
+became acquainted with all the nobility in Paris. But, amongst all
+these worldly pleasures and enjoyments, God still held the heart of
+Henri; so that he took no delight in all these fine things, and would
+have preferred Claude's cottage to all the splendours of Paris.
+
+"When Henri had been in Paris about six months, it happened that one
+day his father went to the King's palace to pay his court: so it was,
+that something had vexed the King that day, and he did not receive the
+Marquis so cordially as he had been used to do. This affronted the
+Marquis so much (for he was a very proud man) that from that time he
+gave himself up altogether to abusing the King, and contriving how to
+do him mischief; and he invited to his house all the people of
+consequence in Paris who were discontented with the King: so that his
+house was filled with bad people, who were always contriving mischief
+against the King. These people used to meet almost every evening to sup
+at the Marquis's; and you would be shocked if I were to repeat to you
+the language which they used, and how they used to rail against their
+King. On these occasions they drank abundance of wine; after which they
+used to play at cards for large sums of money; and the Marquis and
+Marchioness not being so clever in play as some others of the party,
+lost a great deal of money; so that what with their extravagance, and
+what with the money they lost at cards, they had almost wasted all they
+possessed, and were in debt to everybody who supplied them with
+anything.
+
+"Poor Henri, although so young, understood very well the wicked way in
+which his father and mother went on; and though he did not dare to
+speak to his father about the manner of life he led, yet he spoke
+several times to his mother. Sometimes the Marchioness would laugh at
+Henri when he talked to her in this way; and sometimes she would be
+quite angry, and tell him that he was meddling with things he could not
+understand.
+
+"Abusing the King, and forming schemes against the Government, are
+called treason. It was not long before the treasonable practices of the
+Marquis, and the bad company he kept, were made known to the King, who,
+one night, without giving notice to anyone, sent certain persons with a
+guard to seize the Marquis, and convey him to a strong castle in a very
+distant part of France, where he was to be confined for life; at the
+same time the King gave orders to seize all the Marquis's property for
+his own use. It was one night in the spring, just after the Marquis's
+wicked companions had taken their leave, that the persons sent by the
+King rushed into the Marquis's house, and making him a prisoner in the
+name of the King, forced him into a carriage, with his wife and son,
+scarcely giving them time to gather together a little linen, and a few
+other necessary things, to take with them: amongst these, Henri did not
+forget his little Bible, and an old Book of Martyrs, which he had
+bought at a bookstall a few days before.
+
+"The Marquis and his family, well guarded, were hurried away so fast
+that before the dawn of morning they were some miles from Paris. The
+Marquis then asked the person who rode by the carriage where they were
+taking him: they answered that his plots against the King had been
+found out, and that he was going to be put into a place where it would
+be out of his power to execute any of his mischievous purposes. On
+hearing this, the Marquis broke out into a violent rage, abusing the
+King, and calling him every vile name he could think of; after which he
+became sullen, and continued so to the end of his journey. The
+Marchioness cried almost without ceasing, calling herself the most
+miserable of women, and wishing she had never seen the Marquis.
+
+"At the end of several days, towards the evening, they entered into a
+deep road between two high hills, which were so near each other that
+from one hill the cottages and little gardens and sheepfolds, with the
+cows and sheep feeding, might be plainly seen on the other. As they
+went on farther, they saw a little village on the right hand among some
+trees; and, above the village, a large old castle, with high walls and
+towers, and an immense gateway with an iron gate.
+
+"When the Marquis saw the castle he groaned, for he supposed that this
+was the place in which he was to be confined; and the Marchioness broke
+out afresh in crying and lamenting herself; but Henri said not one
+word. The carriage took the road straight to the castle, and the guard
+kept close, as if they were afraid the Marquis should strive to get
+away. They passed through the little village, and then saw the great
+gate of the castle right before them higher up the hill. It was almost
+dusk before the carriage stopped at the castle gate; and the guards
+called to the porter (that is, the man who has the care of the gate) to
+open the gate, and call the Governor of the castle. When the porter
+opened the gate, the guard took the Marquis out of the carriage, and,
+all gathering close round him, led him through the gates into the
+outer court of the castle, which was surrounded by dark high buildings;
+Henri and his mother following. From thence he went through another
+gate, and up a number of stone steps, till they came to an immense
+hall, so big that it looked like a large old church; from the roof of
+this hall hung several lamps, which were burning, for it was now quite
+dark. There the Governor of the castle, a respectable-looking old
+officer, with a band of soldiers, met the Marquis, and received him
+into his charge. He spoke civilly to the Marquis, and kindly to Henri
+and his mother.
+
+"'Do not afflict yourself, madam,' he said: 'I am the King's servant,
+and must obey the King's orders; but if I find that you and the Marquis
+are patient under your punishment, I shall make you as comfortable as
+my duty to the King will allow.'
+
+"To this kind speech the Marchioness only answered by breaking out like
+a child, crying afresh; and the Marquis was so sullen that he would not
+speak at all; but Henri, running up and kissing the hand of the old
+gentleman, said:
+
+"'Oh, sir, God will reward you for your kindness to my poor father and
+mother: you must pardon them if they are not able to speak.'
+
+"'You are a fine boy,' said the old gentleman; 'and it is a pity that
+at your age you should share your parents' punishment, and be shut up
+in this place.'
+
+"'Where my father and mother are,' answered Henri, 'I shall be best
+contented, sir; I do not wish to be parted from them.'
+
+"The Governor looked pleased with Henri; and giving his orders to his
+soldiers, they took up a lamp, and led the poor Marquis to the room
+where he was to be shut up for the remainder of his life. They led him
+through many large rooms, and up several flights of stone steps, till
+they came to the door of a gallery, at which a sentinel stood; the
+sentinel opened the door, and the Marquis was led along the gallery to
+a second door, which was barred with iron bars. Whilst the soldiers
+were unbarring this door, the Marquis groaned, and wished he had never
+been born; and the poor Marchioness was obliged to lean upon Henri, or
+she would have fallen to the ground. When the iron-barred door was
+opened, the guard told the Marquis and his family to walk forward: 'For
+this,' said they, 'is your room.' Accordingly, the Marquis and his wife
+and Henri went on into the room, whilst the guard shut and barred the
+door behind them. One little lamp, hanging from the top of the room,
+but high above their reach (for the rooms in those old castles are in
+general very lofty), was all the light they had: by this light they
+could just distinguish a large grated window, a fireplace, a table,
+some chairs, and two beds placed in different corners of the room.
+However, the unhappy family offered not to go near the beds; but the
+Marquis and Marchioness, throwing themselves on the ground, began to
+rail at each other and at the King. Poor Henri endeavoured to soothe
+and comfort them; but they pushed him from them, like people in a
+frenzy, saying, 'Go, go! Would to God you were in your grave with your
+brother Theodore!' Henri withdrew to a distance, and, kneeling down in
+a dark part of the room, he began to pray; till, being quite weary, he
+fell fast asleep on the floor.
+
+"When Henri awoke, he was surprised to find it was daylight; he sat up
+and looked around him on the prison-room; it was a large and airy room,
+receiving light from a window strongly grated with iron. In two corners
+of the room were two old-fashioned but clean and comfortable-looking
+beds; opposite the beds were a chimney-piece and hearth for burning
+wood; and several old-fashioned chairs and a table stood against the
+wall; there were also in the room two doors, which led into small
+closets.
+
+"Henri's poor father and mother had fallen asleep on the floor, after
+having wearied themselves with their violent grief; the Marquis had
+made a pillow of his cloak, and the Marchioness of a small bundle which
+she had brought in her hand out of the carriage. Henri looked at them
+till his eyes were full of tears; they looked pale and sorrowful even
+in their sleep. He got up gently, for fear of disturbing his poor
+parents, and went to the window: the air from the opposite hill blew
+sweet and fresh in at the casement; it reminded Henri of the air which
+he used to breathe in Claude's cottage. The window was exceedingly high
+from the court of the castle; so that the little village below, and the
+opposite green hill, with its cottages and flocks and herds, were all
+to be seen from thence above the walls of the court.
+
+"'What reason have we to be thankful!' said Henri; 'I was afraid my
+poor father might have been shut down in a dismal vault, without light
+and fresh air. If the Governor of the castle will but allow us to stay
+here, and give us only bread and water, we may be happy; and I have my
+little Bible, and my Book of Martyrs.'
+
+"Whilst Henri stood at the window, he heard someone unbar the door; and
+an old man came in with a basket, in which was a comfortable breakfast.
+
+"'I have orders,' said he, 'from my lord the Governor, to give you
+everything which is convenient.'
+
+"'God bless your lord,' said Henri; and he begged the old man to return
+his thanks to him.
+
+"'I shall come again presently,' said the old man, 'and bring you the
+things which you brought with you in the carriage.'
+
+"'Your lord the Governor is a kind man,' said Henri.
+
+"'Yes,' said the old man, 'and if your noble father will but make
+himself contented, and not try to get away, he will have nothing to
+complain of here, and you would do well to tell him so. My young
+gentleman, excuse an old man for giving his advice.'
+
+"Henri went up to the old man, and, taking his hand, thanked him for
+his kindness.
+
+"When the old man was gone, Henri, full of joy and thankfulness, began
+to take the things out of the basket, and to set them in order upon the
+table; and now Henri found the use of having been brought up to wait
+upon himself and upon others; he soon set out the little table in the
+neatest way, and set a chair for each of his parents; and all this so
+quietly that the poor Marquis and Marchioness did not wake till he had
+done. The Marchioness first opened her eyes, and looked round her.
+Henri ran to her, and kissing her, said:
+
+"'Dear mother, see what comforts we have still got! We are fallen into
+good hands; look around on this room, how light, how airy, and how
+pleasant it is!'
+
+"Henri then told her all the kindness of the Governor, and showed her
+the breakfast prepared for them; but she still looked sullen and
+unthankful, and began to blame the Marquis, as he lay asleep, as the
+cause of all her affliction.
+
+"'Oh, mother, dear mother!' cried Henri. 'Look at my poor father; how
+pale he looks, and how he sighs in his sleep! You once loved him, dear
+mother; oh now, love him again, and comfort him in his trouble!'
+
+"In this manner Henri talked to his mother, till she broke out into
+tears, and putting her arms round his neck:
+
+"'My child, my Henri,' she said, 'you are too good for me!'
+
+"Yet still Henri could not persuade her to take any breakfast; she
+placed herself in a chair in a corner of the room, and, leaning her
+head upon her hands, continued crying without ceasing.
+
+"When the Marquis awoke, Henri endeavoured to comfort him, as he had
+done his mother; the Marquis embraced him, and called him his beloved
+child and only comfort, but he complained that he was ill, and put his
+hand to his head. Henri brought him a cup of coffee, which he made him
+drink; and the old man coming in with the linen and other things which
+had been brought from Paris, they put some clean linen on the Marquis,
+and the old man and Henri assisted him to bed. The Marquis continued to
+get worse, and before night he was in a violent fever. This fever
+continued many days, and brought him very near to death. Whilst this
+illness lasted Henri never left him, and the Governor of the castle not
+only provided him with everything he wanted, but brought a doctor from
+the village to see him.
+
+"For many days the poor Marquis did not seem to know anything that
+passed, or to know where he was, or who was with him, but seemed in
+great horror of mind, expressing great dread of death; but when his
+fever left him, though he was very weak, he recovered his recollection,
+and expressed himself very thankful for the kindness he had received,
+particularly from the Governor and the doctor. As to Henri, he kissed
+him often, called him his darling son, and could not bear him to leave
+him for a moment. It was lovely to see how Henri watched by his poor
+father, and how he talked to him, sometimes soothing and comforting,
+and sometimes giving him descriptions of the happy manner in which he
+used to live in Claude's cottage.
+
+"'And all this happiness, dear father,' he would say, 'came from our
+being religious; for all the ways of religion are ways of pleasantness,
+and all her paths are peace.'
+
+"'Claude and Maria,' said the Marquis one day to Henri, 'were very good
+people; they always led innocent lives; they had no sins to trouble
+their consciences, therefore they were happy; but I have many evil
+actions to remember, Henri.'
+
+"'Oh, dear father,' said Henri, 'do let me read the Bible to you. I
+have got a little Bible, and I will, if you please, read a little to
+you every day, as you can bear it.'
+
+"The Marquis did not refuse to hear Henri read; accordingly, every day
+his good son used to read certain portions of Scripture to his father.
+The Marquis, having nothing else to take his attention--no cards, no
+wine, no gay companions--and being still confined by weakness to his
+bed, often lay for many hours listening to the Word of God. At first,
+as he afterwards owned, he had no pleasure in it, and would rather have
+avoided hearing it; but how could he refuse his darling son, when he
+begged him to hear a little--only a little more?
+
+"In the meantime, the Marchioness appeared sullen, proud, and
+unforgiving: she seldom came near her husband, but sometimes spent the
+day in crying and lamenting herself, and sometimes in looking over the
+few things which she had brought with her from Paris. The Governor of
+the castle, seeing her so miserable, told her that he had no orders
+from the King to keep her or her son in confinement, and that she had
+liberty to depart when she pleased, and to take her son with her; but
+Henri would not hear of leaving his poor father, and used all his
+endeavours to persuade his mother to stay.
+
+"When the Marquis was first able to leave his bed, and sit in his chair
+opposite the window, Henri was very happy: he brought him clean linen,
+and helped him to dress; and when he had led him to his chair, he set a
+table before him, and arranged upon it, as neatly as he could, the
+little dinner which the old man had brought in the basket, with a
+bottle of weak but pleasant wine which the Governor had sent him.
+
+"'Dear father,' said Henri, 'you begin to look well; you look even
+better than you did when you were at Paris. Oh! if you could but learn
+to love God, you might now be happier than ever you were in all your
+life; and we might all be happy if my poor mother would but come to you
+and love you as she used to do. Oh! come, dear mother,' added Henri,
+going up to her and taking her hand; 'come to my father, come to my
+poor father! You loved him once, love him again.'
+
+"In this manner Henri begged and entreated his mother to be reconciled
+to his father. The Marchioness at first seemed obstinate; but at last
+she was overcome, and running to her husband, put her arms round his
+neck, and kissed him affectionately; whilst he, embracing her, called
+her his beloved wife, his own Adelaide. This little family then sat
+down to their dinner, enjoying the lovely prospect, and the soft and
+delightful breezes from the opposite hill; and after they had dined,
+Henri sang to his parents some of the sweet hymns he had learnt when
+living in the valleys of Piedmont.
+
+"Henri had done a great work; he had made peace between his father and
+his mother; and now he saw, with great delight, his poor father gaining
+strength daily; and though sometimes full of sorrow, yet upon the
+whole composed, and never breaking out in impatient words.
+
+"About this time the Governor of the castle invited Henri to dine with
+him. Henri was much pleased with the Governor, who received him kindly,
+and took him to walk with him in the village.
+
+"'I am glad to hear,' said the Governor, 'that your father is more
+contented than he was at first; and you may tell him from me, that if
+he will endeavour to make himself easy, and not attempt to escape, I
+will always do everything in my power to make him comfortable; and now,
+if you can tell me what I can send him which you think will please him
+or your mother, if in my power you shall have it.'
+
+"'Oh, sir!' said Henri, 'God has certainly put it into your heart to be
+kind to my dear father.'
+
+"Henri then mentioned that he had heard his father say that in his
+younger days he had been very fond of drawing; and he begged of the
+Governor a small box of colours, and some paper; and also needles and
+thread and linen for his mother. With what joy did Henri run back to
+his father and mother, in the evening, with these things! They received
+him as if he had been a long while absent from them, instead of only a
+few hours.
+
+"What Henri had brought afforded great amusement to the poor Marquis
+and Marchioness; the Marquis passing his time in drawing, and the
+Marchioness with her needlework, whilst Henri continually read and
+talked to them, giving them accounts of the holy and happy lives which
+the Waldenses led, and the sweet lessons which Claude used to give to
+his children.
+
+"In this manner the summer passed away, and the winter came. The
+Governor then, finding that the Marquis was content, and made no
+attempt to escape, allowed the prisoners abundance of wood for fire,
+and candles, with every convenience which could make the winter pass
+away pleasantly; and he often came himself and passed an evening with
+them, ordering his supper into the room. The Governor was an agreeable
+man, and had travelled into many countries, which he used to describe
+to Henri. When he paid his evening visit it was a day of festivity to
+the Marquis and his little family; and when he did not come, their
+evenings passed pleasantly, whilst Henri read the Bible aloud and the
+Marchioness sewed. In the meantime the work of grace seemed to advance
+in the heart of the Marquis, and he who but a year ago was proud,
+insolent, self-indulgent, boasting, blasphemous, was now humble,
+gentle, polite, in honour preferring all men. His behaviour to the
+Marchioness was quite changed: he was tender and affectionate towards
+her, bearing with patience many of her little fretful ways.
+
+"In this manner the winter passed away, and the spring arrived, at
+which time the Governor gave the Marquis permission, attended by a
+guard, to walk with his family every day upon the roof of the castle.
+There the Marquis enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful prospect, and
+he said that all the pleasures of Paris were not to be compared to his
+happiness on such occasions.
+
+"At the end of the fourth year of the Marquis's confinement the
+small-pox broke out in the village, and the infection was brought to
+the castle. The Marquis and Henri were both seized by the dreadful
+disease, and both died in consequence. After their deaths, the poor
+Marchioness, hearing that the Waldenses had been driven from their
+happy valleys by the King, removed into a small house in the village
+near, where the Governor supported and protected her till her dying
+day."
+
+
+
+
+A Story of Besetting Sins
+
+[Illustration: "Do you remember anything of the sermon?"]
+
+
+One Sunday, soon after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, Mrs.
+Fairchild, having a bad cold, could not go to church with the rest of
+the family. When the children were come home from church, Mrs.
+Fairchild asked Lucy what the sermon was about.
+
+"Mamma," said Lucy, taking her Bible out of her little basket, "I will
+show you the text; it is in Heb. xii. 1: 'Let us lay aside every
+weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.'"
+
+When Mrs. Fairchild had looked at the text, she said:
+
+"And do you remember anything more of the sermon, Lucy?"
+
+"Indeed, mamma," said Lucy, "I did not understand the sermon; it was
+all about besetting sins. What are they, mamma?"
+
+"I will explain," said Mrs. Fairchild. "Though our hearts are all
+naturally sinful, yet every man is not inclined alike to every kind of
+sin. One man, perhaps, is inclined to covetousness, another to swear
+and use bad words, another to lie and deceive, another to be angry and
+cruel; and that sin which a man feels himself most inclined to is
+called his besetting sin."
+
+"Oh! now I know what besetting sins mean," answered Lucy. "Has
+everybody a besetting sin, mamma?"
+
+"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild; "we all have, although we do
+not all know what they are."
+
+"Have I a besetting sin, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"What is it, mamma?" asked Lucy.
+
+"Can you not tell what fault you fall into oftener than any other?"
+said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+Lucy considered a little, and then answered she did not know.
+
+"I think, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "although it is hard to judge
+any other person's heart, that your besetting sin is envy. I think I
+have often observed this fault in you. You were envious about Emily's
+doll, and about poor Miss Augusta Noble's fine house and clothes and
+servants, and about the muslin and ribbon I gave to Emily one day, and
+the strawberry your papa gave to Henry; and I have often thought you
+showed envy on other occasions."
+
+Lucy looked grave when her mother spoke, and the tears came into her
+eyes.
+
+"Mamma," she said, "I am a naughty girl; my heart is full of envy at
+times; but I pray that God would take this sin out of my heart; and I
+hate myself for it--you don't know how much, mamma."
+
+"My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, kissing Lucy, "if you really
+grieve for your sins, and call in faith upon the Lord Jesus Christ, you
+will surely in God's good time be set free from them. And now, my
+dear," added Mrs. Fairchild, "you know what is meant by the sin which
+doth so easily beset us; and you understand that every person has some
+one besetting sin."
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Lucy, "and you have told me what my own besetting
+sin is, and I feel that you have found out the right one. But mamma,
+you said that many people do not know their own besetting sins."
+
+"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild. "Careless people do not know
+their hearts, and have no idea of their besetting sins; indeed, they
+would laugh if you were to speak of such things before them."
+
+Whilst Mrs. Fairchild was speaking these last words, they heard the
+dinner-bell ring; so they broke off their talk and went downstairs.
+Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and all the family were sitting at
+dinner, they saw through the window a man on horseback, carrying a
+large basket, ride up to the door. Mrs. Fairchild sent John out to see
+who this person was; and John presently returned with a letter, and a
+haunch of venison packed in a basket.
+
+"Sir," said John, "the man says that he is one of Mr. Crosbie of
+London's servants; and that he has brought you a letter with his
+master's compliments, and also a haunch of venison."
+
+"Mr. Crosbie's servant!" said Mr. Fairchild, taking the letter and
+reading it aloud as follows:
+
+     "DEAR MR. FAIRCHILD,
+
+     "I and my wife, and my sister Miss Crosbie, and my daughter Betsy,
+     have been taking a journey for our health this summer. We left
+     London three months ago, and have been down as far as Yorkshire.
+     We are now returning home, and have turned a little out of our way
+     to see you, as it is as much as twelve years since we met; so you
+     may look for us, no accident happening, to-morrow, a little before
+     two. We hope to dine with you, and to go on in the evening to the
+     next town, for our time is short. I have sent a fine haunch of
+     venison which I bought yesterday from the innkeeper where we
+     slept; it will be just fit for dressing to-morrow; so I shall be
+     obliged to Mrs. Fairchild to order her cook to roast it by two
+     o'clock, which is my dinner-hour. My man Thomas, who brings this
+     letter, will tell the cook how I like to have my venison dressed;
+     and he brings a pot of currant jelly, to make sauce, in case you
+     should have none by you; though I dare say this precaution is not
+     necessary, as Mrs. Fairchild, no doubt, has all these things by
+     her. I am not particular about my eating; but I should be obliged
+     to you if you would have the venison ready by two o'clock, and let
+     Thomas direct your cook. My wife and sister and daughter Betsy
+     send best compliments to our old friend, Mrs. Fairchild, and
+     hoping we shall meet in health to-morrow,
+
+  "I remain, dear Mr. Fairchild,
+    "Your old friend,
+      "OBADIAH CROSBIE.
+
+     "P.S.--You will find the haunch excellent; we dined upon the neck
+     yesterday, and it was the best I ever tasted."
+
+When Mr. Fairchild had finished the letter, he smiled, and said:
+
+"I shall be very glad to see our old friends, but I am sorry poor Mr.
+Crosbie still thinks so much about eating. It always was his besetting
+sin, and it seems to have grown stronger upon him as he has got older."
+
+"Who is Mr. Crosbie, papa?" said Lucy.
+
+"Mr. Crosbie, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild, "lives in London. He has a
+large fortune which he got in trade. He has given up business some
+years, and now lives upon his fortune. When your mamma and I were in
+London, twelve years ago, we were at Mr. Crosbie's house, where we
+were very kindly treated; therefore we must do the best we can to
+receive Mr. and Mrs. Crosbie kindly, and to make them as comfortable as
+possible."
+
+When John went to church that same evening, Mr. Fairchild desired him
+to tell nurse to come the next day to help Betty, for nurse was a very
+good cook; and the next morning Mrs. Fairchild prepared everything to
+receive Mr. and Mrs. Crosbie; and Mr. Fairchild invited Mr. Somers, the
+clergyman of the parish, to meet them at dinner. When the clock struck
+one, Mrs. Fairchild dressed herself and the children, and then went
+into a little tea-room, the window of which opened upon a small grass
+plot, surrounded by rose-bushes and other flowering shrubs. Mr. Somers
+came in a little before two, and sat with Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+When the clock struck two, Mr. Crosbie's family were not come, and Mr.
+Fairchild sent Henry to the garden gate to look if he could see the
+carriage at a distance. When Henry returned he said that he could see
+the carriage, but it was still a good way off.
+
+"I am afraid the venison will be over-roasted," said Mrs. Fairchild,
+smiling.
+
+Henry soon after went to the gate, and got there just in time to open
+it wide for Mr. Crosbie's carriage. Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild ran out to
+receive their friends.
+
+"I am glad to see you once again," said Mr. Crosbie, as he stepped out
+of the coach, followed by Mrs. Crosbie, Miss Crosbie, Miss Betsy, and
+Mrs. Crosbie's maid.
+
+Mr. Crosbie was a very fat man, with a red face, yet he looked
+good-humoured, and had, in his younger days, been handsome. Mrs.
+Crosbie was a little thin woman, and there was nothing in her
+appearance which pleased Emily and Lucy, though she spoke civilly to
+them. Miss Crosbie was as old as her brother, but she did not look so,
+for her face was painted red and white; and she and Miss Betsy had
+sky-blue hats and tippets, with white feathers, which Lucy and Emily
+thought very beautiful.
+
+"Have you any company, Mrs. Fairchild?" said Miss Crosbie, as Mrs.
+Fairchild was leading them into the parlour.
+
+"Only one gentleman, Mr. Somers, our rector," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"Oh! then I must not appear in this gown! and my hair, too, is all
+rough," said Miss Crosbie; "I must put on another gown; I am quite
+frightful to look at!"
+
+"Indeed," said Mrs. Fairchild, "your dress is very nice; there is no
+need to trouble yourself to alter it."
+
+"Oh, sister," said Mrs. Crosbie, "don't think of changing your dress;
+Mrs. Fairchild's dinner is ready, I dare say."
+
+Miss Crosbie would not be persuaded, but, calling the maid to attend
+her, ran upstairs to change her dress: and Mrs. Fairchild sent Lucy
+after her. The rest of the company then went into the tea-room, where
+they sat round the window, and Mr. Crosbie said:
+
+"What a pretty place you have here, Mr. Fairchild; and a good wife, as
+I well know--and these pretty children! You ought to be a happy man."
+
+"And so I am, thank God," said Mr. Fairchild, "as happy as any man in
+the world."
+
+"I should have been with you an hour ago," said Mr. Crosbie, "that I
+might have walked over your garden before dinner, but for my wife
+there."
+
+"What of your wife there?" said Mrs. Crosbie, turning sharply towards
+him. "Now mind, Mr. Crosbie, if the venison is over-roasted, don't say
+it is my fault."
+
+Mr. Crosbie took out his watch.
+
+"It is now twenty-five minutes past two," said he; "the venison has
+been down at the fire twenty-five minutes longer than it should have
+been. And did you not keep us an hour waiting this morning, at the inn
+where we slept, whilst you quarrelled with the innkeeper and his wife?"
+
+Mrs. Crosbie answered:
+
+"You are always giving people to understand that I am ill-tempered, Mr.
+Crosbie; which I think is very unhandsome of you, Mr. Crosbie. There is
+not another person in the world who thinks me ill-tempered but you. Ask
+Thomas, or my maid, what they know of my temper, and ask your sister,
+who has lived with me long enough."
+
+"Why don't you ask _me_ what I think of it, mamma?" said Miss Betsy,
+pertly.
+
+"Hold your tongue, miss!" said Mrs. Crosbie.
+
+"Must I not speak?" said Miss Betsy in a low voice, but loud enough for
+her mamma to hear her.
+
+When Miss Betsy first came in, Emily admired her very much; for,
+besides the sky-blue hat and feather, she had blue satin shoes, and a
+very large pair of gold earrings; but when she heard her speak so
+boldly to her mother she did not like her so much. By this time John
+came to tell the company that dinner was on the table; and Mr. Crosbie
+got up, saying:
+
+"The venison smells well--exceedingly well."
+
+"But where is Miss Crosbie?" asked Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"Oh, my aunt thought herself not smart enough to show herself before
+Mr. Somers," said Miss Betsy pertly.
+
+"Be silent, miss," said Mrs. Crosbie.
+
+"Don't wait for her, then," said Mr. Crosbie; "let us go in to dinner.
+My sister loves a little finery; she would rather lose her dinner than
+not be dressed smart; I never wait for her at any meal. Come, come!
+Ladies lead the way; I am very hungry."
+
+So Mrs. Fairchild sent Emily to tell Miss Crosbie that dinner was
+ready, and the rest of the company sat down to table.
+
+"Mrs. Crosbie," said Mr. Crosbie, looking at the venison, then at his
+wife, "the venison is too much roasted; I told you it would be so."
+
+"What! finding fault with me again, Mr. Crosbie?" said Mrs. Crosbie.
+"Do you hear Mr. Fairchild finding fault with his wife in this manner?"
+
+"Perhaps the venison is better than you think, Mr. Crosbie," said Mr.
+Somers; "let me help you to some. Mr. Fairchild, I know, is not fond of
+carving."
+
+Mr. Crosbie thanked Mr. Somers; and Mr. Somers had just begun to cut
+the venison, when Mr. Crosbie called out, as if in agony:
+
+"Oh, Mr. Somers, you will spoil the venison! You must not cut it that
+way upon any account. Do put the haunch by me, and let me help myself."
+
+"What confusion you are making at the table, Mr. Crosbie!" said Mrs.
+Crosbie. "You are putting every dish out of its place! Surely Mr.
+Somers knows how to carve as well as you do."
+
+"But papa is afraid Mr. Somers won't give him all the nice bits," said
+Miss Betsy.
+
+"Learn to be silent, miss!" said Mr. Crosbie.
+
+Miss Betsy was going to answer her father, when Miss Crosbie came into
+the room, newly dressed in a very elegant manner. She came smiling in,
+followed by Lucy and Emily, who went to sit at a small table with
+Henry.
+
+"Sister," said Mrs. Crosbie, "where was the need of your dressing
+again? If we had waited for you, the dinner would have been spoiled."
+
+"But we did not wait for Miss Crosbie, so there was no harm done," said
+Mr. Fairchild, smiling.
+
+"My aunt would not lose an opportunity of showing her new-fashioned
+gown for the world!" said Miss Betsy.
+
+"Indeed, niece," answered Miss Crosbie, "I do not know why you should
+say that I am fond of showing my clothes. I wish to be neat and clean,
+but no person cares less than I do about fashions and finery."
+
+"La!" says Miss Betsy, whispering to Mrs. Fairchild "hear my aunt! she
+says she does not care about finery! That's like mamma saying how
+good-natured she is!"
+
+"Fie, fie, Miss Betsy!" said Mrs. Fairchild, speaking low; "you forget
+your respect to your elders."
+
+Miss Betsy coloured, and stared at Mrs. Fairchild. She had not been
+used to be found fault with; for she was spoiled by both her parents;
+and she felt quite angry.
+
+"Indeed!" she said, "I never was thought disrespectful to anyone
+before. Can't I see people's faults? Can't I see that mamma is cross,
+and my aunt fond of fine clothes, and that papa loves eating?"
+
+"Hush! hush!" said Mrs. Fairchild, in a low voice; "your papa and mamma
+will hear you."
+
+"And I don't care if they do," said Miss Betsy: "they know what I
+think."
+
+"What's that you are saying there, Miss Betsy?" said Mr. Crosbie.
+
+"Oh, don't ask, brother," said Miss Crosbie; "I know it is something
+saucy, by my niece's looks."
+
+"And why should you suppose I am saying anything saucy, aunt?" said
+Miss Betsy; "I am sure you are not accustomed to hear me say saucy
+things."
+
+"Miss! Miss! be quiet!" said Mrs. Crosbie; for she was afraid Mr. and
+Mrs. Fairchild would think her daughter ill-behaved.
+
+"What, mamma!" answered Miss Betsy, "am I to sit quietly and hear my
+aunt find fault with me before company--and for being impertinent, too,
+to my elders--as if I were a mere child?"
+
+"Well, well--enough!" said Mr. Crosbie. "What is that pie, Mrs.
+Fairchild, in the middle of the table? I must have some, if you
+please."
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not sorry when dinner was over, and Mrs.
+Crosbie proposed that Mrs. Fairchild should show her the garden.
+Accordingly, the ladies and children got up, and left the gentlemen
+together; for Mr. Crosbie never stirred for some time after dinner.
+When Mrs. Crosbie had got into the garden, and had looked about her,
+she said:
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Fairchild, how happy you are! Such a pretty house and
+garden!--such a kind husband!--such good children!" Then she sighed,
+and gave Mrs. Fairchild to understand that she was not so happy
+herself.
+
+After tea, Mr. Crosbie and his family took their leave, and went off to
+the next inn upon the London road, where they were to sleep; for Mr.
+Crosbie was in haste to be at home, and would not stay, although Mr.
+and Mrs. Fairchild begged that they would--at least till the next day.
+When they were gone, Mr. Fairchild and Henry took a walk towards the
+village with Mr. Somers, whilst the little girls remained at home with
+their mother.
+
+"Dear Lucy," said Mrs. Fairchild, as soon as she was alone with her
+little girls, "do you remember what we were speaking about yesterday,
+before Mr. Crosbie's letter came?"
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Lucy; "we were speaking of besetting sins, and you
+said that everybody has a besetting sin, and you told me what you
+believed mine to be."
+
+"True, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild: "I told you that, without
+the help of the Holy Spirit of God, very few people know what their own
+besetting sins are. You had an opportunity to-day of observing this:
+every individual of our friend Mr. Crosbie's family has a very strong
+besetting sin; Mr. Crosbie loves eating; Mrs. Crosbie is ill-tempered;
+Miss Crosbie is vain, and fond of finery; and Miss Betsy is very pert
+and forward. We can see these faults in them, and they can see them in
+each other; but it is plain they do not see them in themselves. Mr.
+Crosbie said several times that he was not particular about what he ate
+or drank; Mrs. Crosbie said that there was not a person in the world
+who thought her ill-tempered but her husband; Miss Crosbie said that
+nobody in the world cared less for finery than she did; and Miss Betsy
+was quite offended when she was told she was not respectful in her
+manners to her elders."
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Emily; "she said, 'I am not saucy; of all faults,
+sauciness is not one of my faults, I am sure;' and I thought all the
+time she looked as saucy and impertinent as possible."
+
+"And how Mr. Crosbie did eat!" said Lucy; "he ate half the haunch of
+venison! And then he was helped twice to pigeon-pie; and then he ate
+apple-tart and custard; and then----"
+
+"Well, well! you have said enough, Lucy," said Mrs. Fairchild,
+interrupting her. "I do not speak of our poor friends' faults out of
+malice, or for the sake of making a mockery of them; but to show you
+how people may live in the constant practice of one particular sin
+without being at all conscious of it, and perhaps thinking themselves
+very good all the time. We are all quick enough, my dear Emily and
+Lucy, in finding out other people's faults; but, as I said before, we
+are often very blind to our own."
+
+"Mamma," said Lucy, "do you know any prayer about besetting sins?"
+
+"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild; "I have one in my own book of
+prayers; and I will copy it out for you to-morrow morning."
+
+So Mrs. Fairchild broke off her conversation with her little girls, and
+bade them go and play a little before bedtime.
+
+[Illustration: "_Miss Betsy._"--Page 137.]
+
+
+
+
+A Visit to Mary Bush
+
+[Illustration: The children looked at the kittens]
+
+
+Not very long after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, a note came
+from Sir Charles and Lady Noble, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild to
+dinner the next day; but not mentioning the children, as they used to
+do when they sent their invitations.
+
+"Poor Lady Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild; "I wish we could give her any
+comfort! but we will certainly go."
+
+The next day, when Sir Charles's carriage came for Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild, they kissed the children, and told them when they had dined,
+they might, if they pleased, go with Betty to see old Mary Bush. Mary
+Bush was one of the old women who lived at the end of the coppice; and,
+being a good woman, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not afraid of trusting
+their children with her. The children were very much pleased, and made
+haste to get their dinner; after which Lucy packed up a little tea and
+sugar, which her mamma had given her, in a basket; and the little
+girls, having put on their bonnets and tippets, went into the kitchen
+to see if Betty was ready. Betty was tying up a small loaf and a pot of
+butter in a clean napkin; and she had put some nice cream into a small
+bottle, for which John was cutting a cork.
+
+"Betty, are you ready?" said Henry; "Lucy has got the tea and sugar,
+and Emily has got Miss Dolly, and I have got my hat and stick. So come,
+Betty, come!"
+
+"But who is to milk the cow?" said John, pretending to look grave;
+"Betty must stay to milk the cow at five o'clock."
+
+"No, John!" said the children, all gathering round him; "good John,
+will you be so kind as to milk the cow, and let Betty go?"
+
+"Well, I will see about it," said John, putting the cork into the cream
+bottle.
+
+"There's a good John!" said Emily.
+
+"I love you, John!" said Henry. "And now, Betty, come, make haste
+away."
+
+So the children set out; and they went out across the garden to a
+little wicket-gate which Mr. Fairchild had opened towards the coppice,
+and came into Henry's favourite Sunday walk. The green trees arched
+over their heads; and on each side the pathway was a mossy bank, out of
+which sprang such kind of flowers as love shady places--such as the
+wood anemone and wild vetch: thrushes and blackbirds were singing
+sweetly amongst the branches of the trees.
+
+"This is my walk," said Henry; "and I say it is the prettiest in the
+country."
+
+"No, Henry," said Emily; "it is not so pretty as the walk to the hut at
+the top of the hill: for there you can look all over the coppice, and
+see the birds flying over the tops of the trees."
+
+"Sister," said Lucy, "now you shall carry my basket, and I will have
+the doll a little."
+
+"With all my heart," said Emily.
+
+"Why don't you give Miss to me?" said Henry.
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Emily. "Did I not give her to you one day; and did you
+not hang her upon a tree in the garden, with a bit of string round her
+neck, and say she was a thief?"
+
+"Lucy," said Henry, "let us have a race to that tree which has fallen
+down over the path."
+
+So away they ran; and when they got to the tree they sat down upon the
+trunk until Betty came up with Emily. On one side of the fallen tree
+was a place where the wood had been cut away, and the woodmen had made
+themselves a little hut, which they had now left empty. Round this hut
+were scattered many dry sticks and chips.
+
+"Master Henry," said Betty, "here are some nice sticks: let us gather a
+few together; they will do to make a fire to boil Mary Bush's kettle."
+
+"Oh, yes, Betty," answered the children: and they set to work, and soon
+gathered a great many sticks; and Betty tied them together with a piece
+of packthread which Henry pulled out of his pocket; then Betty took off
+her bonnet, and placed the bundle upon her head. They went on to Mary
+Bush's. The children wanted to help to carry the sticks, but Betty
+would not let them, saying they were too heavy for them.
+
+"But we can carry the bread and butter," said Lucy; so Betty allowed
+them to do it.
+
+When they had walked a little farther, they came in sight of Mary
+Bush's house, down in a kind of little valley or dingle, deeply shaded
+by trees. In the very deepest part of the dingle was a stream of water
+falling from a rock. The light from above fell upon the water as it
+flowed, and made it glitter and shine very beautifully among the shady
+trees. This was the same which took its course through the Primrose
+Meadow, and on towards the village, and so to Brookside Cottage, where
+nurse lived--a clear and beautiful stream as could be.
+
+Mary Bush's cottage was so large, that, after the death of her husband,
+she had let half of it to one Goodman Grey, who lived in it, with his
+old wife Margery, and cultivated the garden, which was a very good one.
+John Trueman's wife was Mary Bush's eldest daughter; and Joan, nurse's
+son's wife, her youngest; and it was said of them that there were not
+two better wives and mothers in the parish: so Mary Bush was very happy
+in her children.
+
+When the children and Betty came up to the cottage, they found Mary
+Bush spinning at the door.
+
+"We are come to drink tea with you, Mary," said Lucy.
+
+"And we have brought bread and butter, and tea and cream with us," said
+Emily.
+
+"And a bundle of sticks," said Henry, "to boil the kettle."
+
+"Welcome, welcome, my little loves," said old Mary, as she got up and
+set her spinning-wheel on one side. "Come in, little dears."
+
+Mary had but one room, and a little pantry, but it was a very neat
+room; there was a bed in one corner, covered with a clean linen quilt;
+there were also a nice oaken dresser, a clock, two arm-chairs, two
+three-legged stools, a small round table, a corner cupboard, and some
+shelves for plates and dishes. The fireplace and all about it were
+always very neat and clean, and in winter you would probably see a
+small bright fire on the hearth.
+
+"How does the cat do?" said Henry, looking about for Mary Bush's
+cat.
+
+"Oh, here she is, Henry!" said Emily, screaming with joy, "in this
+basket under the dresser, with two such beautiful tortoiseshell
+kittens! Do look, Lucy--do look, Henry!"
+
+"Miss Lucy," said old Mary, "would you like to have one of the kittens
+when it is big enough to leave its mother?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes! and thank you, Mary," answered Lucy, "if mamma pleases."
+
+When the children had looked at the kittens and kissed them, they went
+to visit Margery Grey, and to talk to old Goodman Grey, who was working
+in the garden, whilst Betty, in the meantime, and old Mary Bush, set
+out the tea-cups, and set the kettle to boil for tea. When the tea was
+ready, Betty called the children, and they would make Margery Grey come
+and drink tea with them. Henry would have the old man come too.
+
+"No, master," said the old man: "I know my place better."
+
+"Well, then," said Lucy, "I will send you a nice cup of tea, and some
+bread-and-butter, into the garden."
+
+I wish you could have seen them all drinking tea at the door of the
+cottage, round the little table, the two old women sitting in the
+arm-chairs, for Lucy would have them do so, Betty making tea, and the
+three children sitting on stools--and how pleased and happy they were.
+
+[Illustration: "_Drinking tea at the door of the cottage, round the
+little table._"--Page 149.]
+
+
+
+
+Part II
+
+Story of Miss Crosbie's Presents
+
+[Illustration: Miss Crosbie spoke kindly to her]
+
+
+We will begin this history again, by telling what had happened since
+the first part was concluded.
+
+Sir Charles and Lady Noble had left their fine place soon after the
+funeral of their daughter, and it was supposed would never return; for
+the house and park were advertised to be let. After a few months it was
+taken by a family of the name of Darwell, said to be immensely rich:
+this family had an only daughter.
+
+No other changes had taken place; everybody else lived where they did
+in the last part of our history, which is very pleasant, as we may hope
+to see our old friends all again.
+
+Mr. Fairchild had had a few hundred pounds left him by a friend, from
+whom he had expected nothing; on the strength of which he bought a
+plain roomy carriage, which would hold himself and Mrs. Fairchild in
+the front seat, with a child between them, and two children behind.
+The pillion was put aside, and the old horse put in the shafts: and
+though, to be sure, he went but slowly, and not very far at a time, yet
+the whole family found great pleasure in the change.
+
+The winter was past, and the sweet spring was beginning to show itself,
+when that happened which shall be related without delay.
+
+One morning when Henry was with his father in the study, and Lucy and
+Emily were busy with their needles, seated in the parlour window
+together, and alone, they saw a gentleman's carriage stop at the gate,
+and a lady get out. A great number of bandboxes were taken from
+different parts of the carriage by a servant who was attending the
+carriage; and before the little girls could make anything of all these
+wonders, they saw their father first, and then their mother, run out
+and shake hands with the lady, and seem to invite her to come in.
+Henry, too, had gone out after his papa, and had been sent back, as
+they thought, to fetch Betty; for Betty soon appeared, and began, with
+the help of Henry, who seemed to be delighted at this interruption of
+his lessons, to carry the boxes into the house.
+
+Lucy and Emily soon discovered that this lady was the elder Miss
+Crosbie; but they wondered how she had happened to come that day. Miss
+Crosbie had come from London, where she had been for some time, and was
+now so far on her way to visit a friend in the country.
+
+She had come to Mr. Fairchild's door in another friend's carriage, and
+she was come to ask Mr. Fairchild to take her in until the Monday
+morning.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild both assured her that they were most glad to see
+her; expressed a hope that she would stay longer than Monday, and
+showed themselves so kind and hospitable, that Miss Crosbie was quite
+at her ease, and everything was settled about her staying, before Mr.
+Fairchild brought her into the parlour. But there was quite time
+enough, before Miss Crosbie came in, for Lucy and Emily to say many
+things, for which, I am happy to add, they were afterwards very sorry.
+Lucy spoke first.
+
+"What a quantity of boxes she has brought!" she said; "some finery, I
+dare say, in all of them; how silly for such an old person to be fond
+of dress!"
+
+"It is very silly," replied Emily, "and particularly for one so ugly.
+Don't you think Miss Crosbie uncommonly ugly?"
+
+"To be sure I do," she answered; "everybody must: with her little nose,
+and her gray eyes, and her wide mouth."
+
+"And to be so fond of finery after all!" said Emily. "I am sure if I
+was like Miss Crosbie, instead of dressing myself out, I would wear a
+veil and hide my face."
+
+In this way the two little girls kept on chattering; and I fear my
+reader will say that they are not improved since last she heard
+anything of them.
+
+When Miss Crosbie came into the parlour, she kissed them both, and made
+some remarks upon their looks, which showed that she was quite pleased
+with their appearance. Mrs. Fairchild employed them a little time in
+going backwards and forwards to Betty, and helping in many things; for
+when people keep but one maidservant, they must occasionally assist
+her.
+
+When the room was ready for Miss Crosbie, and a fire lighted, and all
+the boxes and packages carried up, Mrs. Fairchild showed the lady to
+her room; and Miss Crosbie, having asked when dinner would be ready,
+said:
+
+"Well, I shall just have time to change my dress."
+
+"Oh, pray do not trouble yourself to dress," said Mrs. Fairchild; "you
+are very nice now, and we are plain people."
+
+"You are very good," answered Miss Crosbie, "but I shall not be
+comfortable in the dress in which I travelled."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild said no more; but having told her little girls, who had
+gone up with her to the visitor's room, to go and make themselves neat
+in their Sunday frocks, she hastened to give some orders, and perhaps
+some help, in the kitchen.
+
+We will not repeat what Lucy and Emily said to each other whilst they
+were in their little room: all that passed was of the same kind, if not
+worse than what they had said in the parlour; one encouraging the
+other, and carrying their ridicule of their mother's visitor farther
+than either of them intended when they began. When the little girls
+were dressed, they went into the best parlour, or tea-room, as their
+mother called it in the old-fashioned way; and there they found a fire
+burning, and everything in order. John was laying the cloth in the next
+room, and Henry soon came to them in his Sunday dress, and soon
+afterwards their father and mother; but Miss Crosbie did not appear
+till dinner was being served up. She came dressed in a muslin gown,
+with a long train, and large full sleeves, tied in several places with
+crimson ribbons; she had her hair frizzed and powdered, and a turban of
+crimson satin on her head. Her dress was quite out of place; but
+persons who are always used to be rather over-dressed are not judges of
+the times and places in which to put on their finery. At the sight of
+her, Lucy and Emily gave each other a look, which seemed to say, "How
+very silly!"
+
+The dinner-time passed off very well. Miss Crosbie had a great deal to
+tell about London and her journey down into the country; and soon after
+dinner the children had leave to go to their play-room. They were not
+in the humour to do much good there: they began with talking nonsense,
+and finished off with getting pettish with each other. Henry said that
+he did not want to hear any more of Miss Crosbie and her finery. Lucy
+called him cross; and Emily said that he was not to hinder them talking
+of what they pleased. They were called to tea about six o'clock, and
+when the tea-things were removed, Miss Crosbie said:
+
+"Now, Mrs. Fairchild, you shall see some of the things which I have
+brought from London; will you come to my room, or shall I send for the
+bandbox down here?"
+
+"Oh, pray," said Mr. Fairchild, "let us have the box down here, that
+Henry and I may see the fine sights also."
+
+"You don't mean to say," answered Miss Crosbie, laughing, "that a
+sensible man like you, Mr. Fairchild, can be amused by the sight of
+specimens of the fashions?"
+
+"I am amused with anything," said Mr. Fairchild, "which entertains my
+family. I make a point of enjoying everything which they do, as far as
+I can."
+
+"Well, then," said Miss Crosbie, "if I had my bandbox here----"
+
+The children all at once offered to fetch it--she explained which they
+were to bring out of the many which had come with her, and in a very
+few minutes they had brought it down and set it on the table. Miss
+Crosbie sent them up again to look in her workbag for her keys, and to
+bring down a small parcel wrapped in brown paper, which was to be found
+in the same bag.
+
+The parcel and the keys soon appeared. Miss Crosbie opened the parcel
+and presented Henry with a neat pocket-book, inside of which were a
+pencil, a leaf of ass's-skin, a penknife, and a pair of scissors.
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am," said Henry, "how good you are!"
+
+And his father and mother joined in the boy's thanks. There was nothing
+on Henry's mind particularly to render that gift bitter to him; he had
+not joined in the ridicule of Miss Crosbie.
+
+She next opened the bandbox, and took out of it two bonnets and two
+tippets of grass-green silk, lined with pale pink satin. There were
+also two neatly plaited lace caps to wear under the bonnets, and waist
+ribbons to suit.
+
+"These, I hope, will please you, my dear Miss Lucy and Miss Emily," she
+said; "I brought them for you, and I trust you will like them."
+
+It was well at the moment that Emily was not struck by this kindness in
+the way that Lucy was. She was one full year younger than her sister,
+and could hardly be supposed to be able to reflect so deeply: she
+therefore _could_ look joyful, _could_ run forwards to kiss Miss
+Crosbie, and was ready almost to dance with delight, when she looked at
+the beautiful things on the table.
+
+Had she not, as it were, pushed herself first, Miss Crosbie must have
+been struck, as Mrs. Fairchild was, with the manner of Lucy: the little
+girl first flushed up to her brow, and all over her neck. She came
+forward to Miss Crosbie but slowly, and with her eyes cast down. She
+stood one moment, and then, throwing her arms round her neck and
+pressing her face against her shoulder, she sobbed deeply.
+
+Miss Crosbie was certainly surprised; she did not expect that her
+present could have made the little girl feel so much. She spoke very
+kindly to her, put her arms round her, kissed her several times, and
+said:
+
+"But, my dear, a bonnet and a tippet are not worthy of such deep
+gratitude; you make me ashamed that I have done so little for you."
+
+"But you are so good, ma'am, so very good!" sobbed Lucy.
+
+Miss Crosbie continued to soothe the little girl, and say kind things
+to her, which only made her seem to feel the more. Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild were certainly surprised, but they took no notice; and after
+a little while Lucy became calm, and the affair passed off, Miss
+Crosbie appearing to be rather pleased at the manner in which her
+present had been received.
+
+Lucy became quite calm after her fit of crying, but her mother observed
+that she sighed deeply once or twice. When eight o'clock came, the
+children, at a hint from their mother, were wishing their friends
+good-night, when Miss Crosbie asked leave for their staying to supper.
+Mrs. Fairchild said:
+
+"Not to-night, if you please, Miss Crosbie, but to-morrow night--we
+will all sup together to-morrow."
+
+Miss Crosbie kissed Lucy affectionately before she left the room, and
+Mrs. Fairchild again saw the tears in the eyes of her little girl, but
+she did not appear to take notice of it.
+
+When Lucy and Emily had got into their own room, Lucy at once gave way
+to her feelings.
+
+"Oh, Emily, Emily!" she said, as she laid her new bonnet and tippet on
+the drawers, "I am so unhappy; I have been so wicked! to think how kind
+Miss Crosbie was to bring those beautiful things for us, and to know
+how I laughed at her, and said cruel things about her, and called her
+ugly! I have been naughtier than you, because I am older, and because,
+at the time I did it, I knew I was wrong; and when I saw those
+beautiful bonnets, I felt as if there had been a thorn put into my
+heart."
+
+"It is odd," said Emily, "that I did not think of it, even when I saw
+you crying."
+
+"If Miss Crosbie had not been so kind," replied Lucy, "I should not
+have cared. I can't forgive myself--I can't forget it!"
+
+Then Lucy cried again, and Emily with her; and they were still weeping
+when sleep came over them. They were leaning back on their pillow;
+Emily had her arm over Lucy, and their cheeks were still wet with
+tears, when their mother came in before she went to bed to look at
+them.
+
+She was again surprised to see their tears, and stood a while looking
+at them, being uneasy to think what could have caused them. They did
+not wake, and she did not like to disturb them; but she went to bed
+rather uneasy, though she hoped that there was no great cause for being
+so; and in the morning all her fears were soon removed, for she heard
+the voices of her little girls before she had quite finished dressing.
+They were knocking at her door, and asking to speak to her. She went to
+them immediately, and Lucy told her at once all that had made them
+unhappy the last evening, telling how they had prayed to be kept from
+such naughtiness again, and saying what pain Miss Crosbie's kindness
+had given them.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild heard all they had to say without interrupting them, but
+her face looked kind and full of pity. When the story was told she put
+her arms round both of them, and kissed them tenderly, and then talked
+to them for some time of the want of kindness and good feeling they had
+shown towards their guest.
+
+"Oh, mamma," said Lucy, "the more you talk the more vexed I am with
+myself. What am I to do? Shall I go and beg Miss Crosbie's pardon?"
+
+"Shall we, mamma?" added Emily.
+
+"No, no, my children," answered Mrs. Fairchild, half smiling. "What!
+would you give the poor lady pain by telling her wherefore you come to
+beg her pardon?"
+
+"No," replied Lucy, thoughtfully, "that will not do, I see."
+
+"But we will not wear our bonnets to-day, mamma," said Emily, "though
+it is so fine."
+
+"She wishes to see you in them," answered their mother; "she must not
+be disappointed."
+
+"Now wipe away your tears, my little girls," she added. "We must try to
+make this day as pleasant as possible to poor Miss Crosbie."
+
+And all went most pleasantly from the time that they met at breakfast
+till they parted after supper; and Miss Crosbie said:
+
+"Well, Mrs. Fairchild, I have certainly had a most delightful day, and
+I wish that I could spend all my Sundays with you as I have done this;
+for, in general, I must confess I do find the Sunday the dullest day of
+all the seven."
+
+"Then, ma'am," said Lucy, "I hope you will come often again;" and Mrs.
+Fairchild joined in the invitation.
+
+
+
+
+A Visit to Mrs. Goodriche
+
+[Illustration: In the summer parlour]
+
+
+Nothing happened for some weeks after Miss Crosbie went away which
+could be put down in this history, because almost every day was like
+another, unless we were to say what lessons the children did, and what
+the doll was dressed in, and what walks were taken. The spring came on,
+and a very fine spring it was; and Henry found a place among the trees
+where he thought a very beautiful arbour might be made, and he got
+leave to make it, and John helped, and Lucy and Emily were very busy
+about it, and a most pleasant place it was. The hut in the wood was too
+far off for the children to run to when they had but little time; but
+Henry's arbour could be reached in three minutes by the shortest way.
+Mr. Fairchild was so good as to pay John Trueman to make a thatched
+roof and sides to it, and the man-servant John found some old boards
+for seats; but he could not find time to finish the seats as soon as
+Henry wished.
+
+During this time Mrs. Goodriche came over to visit Mrs. Fairchild, and
+she then invited all the family to come and spend a whole day with her
+in the summer, and she promised that on that day, if all was well, she
+would tell them another story about old Mrs. Howard.
+
+But the happiest times of people's lives are often those in which there
+is least to write and talk about; so we must pass over the spring, and
+go on to the month of June, the very first day of which was that fixed
+for the visit to Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+It was a bright morning when the party set out in the carriage which
+Mr. Fairchild had bought. The dew was not off the ground, for they were
+to breakfast at Mrs. Goodriche's; but, as Henry said, the day would be
+too short anyhow, for these happy children thought many days too short.
+
+What a curious old house Mrs. Goodriche's was! it was the very house in
+which Mrs. Howard had lived, and it had been scarcely altered for Mrs.
+Goodriche. There was what the old lady had called her summer parlour,
+because she never sat in it in cold weather; it was low and large, and
+had double glass doors, which opened upon the old-fashioned garden; and
+there was a short walk which went from the door to the old arbour. The
+walls of the room were painted blue, the windows were casements, and
+had seats in them, and there was a step up from the floor into the
+garden.
+
+The visitors found Mrs. Goodriche in this summer parlour.
+
+After breakfast the two elder ladies took out their work. Mr. Fairchild
+walked away somewhere with a book, and the children went into the
+arbour. Lucy and Emily had their doll's work, and Henry had his knife
+and some bits of wood; it was very hot, so that they could not run
+about.
+
+"I love this arbour," said Henry.
+
+_Lucy._ "So do I; don't you remember, Henry, that we were sitting here
+once, thinking of poor Emily when she had the fever, when Mrs.
+Goodriche came to us and told us that Emily was so much better and the
+fever gone, and how glad we were, and how we jumped and screamed? Oh!
+that was a dreadful time."
+
+"To me it was not dreadful," replied Emily; "I think I may say it was a
+happy time, Lucy, for I had thoughts put into my mind in that illness
+which make everything seem different to me ever since. You know what I
+mean, Lucy, I can't explain it."
+
+_Lucy._ "I know what you mean, Emily."
+
+_Emily._ "I never felt anything like that till I had the fever, so I
+call the fever a happy time."
+
+"I wish you would not talk about it," said Henry; "Lucy and I were
+miserable then; were not we, Lucy?"
+
+Mrs. Goodriche dined very early, and after dinner she and Mrs.
+Fairchild came into the arbour, and there she told the story which she
+had promised.
+
+
+
+
+Story of the Last Days of Mrs. Howard
+
+[Illustration: When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied]
+
+
+"It was about half a year after the things had happened which are
+related in the last story of Mrs. Howard, that Betty, one evening when
+she returned from market upon Crop, came into the parlour to her
+mistress and said:
+
+"'Ma'am, I have heard a bit of news; Mr. Bennet is going to leave the
+country.'
+
+"'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard: 'how has that happened?'
+
+"'Some relation towards London has left him a property, and our county
+is glad of anything that takes off the family.'
+
+"'Well, well, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, and Betty knew that when her
+mistress said, 'Well, well,' it was a hint to her to say no more on the
+subject. Mrs. Howard soon heard from other quarters that the Bennets
+were going, but they were not to be off till the Lady Day next.
+
+"A week or two before that time, Betty had occasion to go again to
+town. Many things were wanted, and on such occasions Crop did not
+object to carry panniers.
+
+"When Betty was quite ready, and Crop at the door, and the woman in the
+house who always came to take care of things on such occasions, she
+came to ask her mistress if there was anything more not yet mentioned.
+
+"Betty never travelled in cold weather without a long blue cloak, and a
+black felt hat tied over her mob.
+
+"'Yes, Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'but you must be very
+particular--you must get me two small neat Bibles with gilt edges,
+bound in morocco, scarlet or green; I should wish them alike, and a
+clear print; besides which you must bring a young gentleman's
+pocket-book, all complete and handsome, with a silver clasp; and
+lastly, you must bring me a genteel equipage in chased silver, the
+furniture quite complete and as it should be, and mind it is well
+wrapped in paper.'
+
+"'Oh, ma'am,' said Betty, 'how shall I be able to choose one that will
+exactly suit for what you want? I am quite afraid to undertake the
+bringing of a genteel equipage, there is such a difference of opinion
+about so tasty a thing.'
+
+"'Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'you know I am always pleased with your
+taste; and if anyone in the world knows what I like, it is you, my good
+girl.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard often called Betty a good girl, though she was too old to
+be so called; but it was a habit in those days in which the old lady
+lived.
+
+"'I should know your taste, ma'am,' said Betty, smiling, 'by this time,
+I should think--me who has lived in yours and your lady mother's
+service four-and-forty years next Candlemas;' and so saying Betty set
+out."
+
+"Pray, ma'am," asked Lucy, "what is an equipage?"
+
+"A fine carriage and horses, to be sure, Lucy," said Henry. "Lady Noble
+had an equipage. I heard John once say, 'That's a fine equipage,' when
+he saw Lady Noble riding by."
+
+"Oh, Henry," said Emily, "surely what Betty was to bring with her could
+not be a carriage and horses wrapped in paper."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche smiled, and explained to the children what Mrs. Howard
+meant: she told them that an equipage was a little case which held a
+thimble, scissors, a pencil, or other such little matters, and, being
+either of gold or silver, was hung to the girdle to balance the great
+watches worn by the grandmothers and great-grandmothers of people now
+living.
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "and now please to go on, and tell us
+what Mrs. Howard meant to do with this equipage."
+
+"When Betty returned," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "Mrs. Howard was well
+satisfied with what she had done; and the very next Sunday evening she
+took occasion, after service, to speak to Master and Miss Bennet, and
+to invite them to tea for the next evening.
+
+"'I wonder,' said Master Jacky to Miss Polly, as they walked home
+together by their mother, 'what she can want with us. I promise you I
+shan't go.'
+
+"'What's that you are saying, Jacky?' said Mrs. Bennet.
+
+"Miss Polly then told her mother of the invitation and what her brother
+had said.
+
+"'You had best go,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'and you may, perhaps, get some
+pretty present. I was told by one who was told by another, that Betty
+was in town last week, and laying out money at the silversmith's, and
+at Mr. Bates the bookseller's, so I would have you go: you don't know
+but that the old lady may have some keepsakes to give you.'
+
+"'Well then,' said Jacky, 'if Polly goes, I will; for I don't see why
+she is to have the presents, and me nothing--but as to anything that
+Mrs. Howard ever gave me yet,' added the rude boy, 'I might put it into
+my eye and see none the worse.'
+
+"'And whose fault is that?' said Miss Polly.
+
+"'It don't become you to talk, Miss,' replied Jacky; 'for if I have had
+nothing, you have had no more--so there is half a dozen for one and six
+for another.'
+
+"By this discourse we may see," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that no great
+change for the better had yet passed on these rude children.
+
+"But they had got a notion that, as Jacky said, there were presents in
+the wind, and they set out for Mrs. Howard's determining to behave
+their best, though they did not tell their thoughts to each other, for
+Jacky hoped that Polly would disgrace herself and get nothing, and
+Polly had the same kind wishes for Jacky.
+
+"Mrs. Howard received them in the summer parlour, and they both behaved
+themselves very well, but more out of spite for each other than from
+love of what is right in itself; but you shall hear by-and-by how I
+came to the knowledge of these their thoughts.
+
+"Betty had made a cake, and there was a roast fowl and hot apple-tart
+for supper; and between tea and supper Mrs. Howard showed them many
+curious things, pictures, and dolls dressed in the fashions of her
+youth, and a number of other things which she kept in a Japan cabinet,
+which always stood in the summer parlour while she lived in this house.
+
+"It was not till after supper that she brought out the two Bibles and
+the pocket-book and equipage. She then laid them before her on the
+table, and she spoke to the two children:
+
+"She began by saying that as they were going out of the country and she
+was far in years, she might, perhaps, never see them again in this
+world. She then spoke, in her own sweet warm way, of what our dear
+Saviour has done for us, and when she had said as much as she thought
+the children could bear, she presented each a Bible, having written
+their names in them. She next took the other presents in her hands:
+
+"'And these, my dears,' she said, 'I ask you to accept. I am sorry if
+on former occasions I may have seemed harsh to you, but these little
+gifts are to prove that I am truly sorry if ever I gave you pain; when
+you look at them you will think of me, and know that nothing would ever
+give me more delight than to hear that you were both walking in the
+ways of holiness.'
+
+"She then put the pocket-book into Jacky's hand, and the equipage into
+Miss Polly's; but she hardly expected what followed. The two children
+burst into tears; Jacky rubbed his eyes to hide his; but Miss Polly
+sprang from her chair, and fell weeping into Mrs. Howard's arms.
+
+"'We will, we will try to do better, ma'am,' she said; 'we will
+indeed.'
+
+"As the children walked home they said not one word to each other; and
+a very few days afterwards the family left the country, Mr. Bennet not
+having had even the decency to call and say good-bye to the old lady.
+
+"Mrs. Howard was half-way between sixty and seventy when the Bennets
+left the country, and was supposed by many to be older, for she had
+dressed like an old woman for many years; her hair had long been gray,
+and she had always been a weakly person, very small and very pale.
+
+"She, however, continued to live in this house as many as seventeen
+years after the Bennets were gone, and every year till the last had her
+children's party; but a change was coming on her household--Crop had
+died years before, and Betty afterwards always went to town in the
+market-cart; but what was the loss of Crop to the loss of Betty?
+
+"Betty was younger than Mrs. Howard, but she was called away before
+her; she had lived forty years with Mrs. Howard in this very house, and
+the loss could not be made up to her in this world.
+
+"Mrs. Howard had a great-nephew, a surgeon, of the name of Johnson, who
+lived in a fair village, called Pangbourne, in Berkshire; and when he
+heard of the death of Betty, and how low his aunt was, he came to her,
+and persuaded her to leave the country, and go and reside near to him.
+She was at first unwilling to go, but was at last persuaded; she took
+nothing with her but her favourite chair, her old round table, her
+books, and her cabinet. Her nephew got her some very pleasant rooms in
+a house called the Wood House, about half a mile from the village,
+towards the hills which are near the place. That side of Pangbourne was
+in those days almost a continued wood coppice, with occasional tall
+trees towards the hills, and there was a narrow road and raised path
+through the wood to the town.
+
+"Mrs. Howard's parlour had an old-fashioned bow-window in it, looking
+to the road, though somewhat raised above it; and Mrs. Howard, as old
+people do, loved in fine weather to sit in the bow, and see the few
+people who passed.
+
+"Every day her kind nephew came to see her, and now and then she
+returned his visit; but she was getting very infirm, though she had
+lost neither sight nor hearing, could read and work as in her younger
+days, and having got over the first shock of losing Betty, and the
+fatigue of the change, her faith in God's love was making her as happy
+as she had been before; she liked the people also who kept the house,
+and made herself very pleasant to them. Though she went to Pangbourne
+in the autumn, she did not, until the month of April, find the pleasure
+of sitting in the bow-window.
+
+"It was then that she first noticed two little girls passing and
+returning every day at certain hours to and from the village.
+
+"They were so near of a size that she thought they must be twins. They
+were very fair, and very pretty, and very neat. They wore light green
+stuff frocks, with lawn aprons and tippets, and little tight neat silk
+bonnets of the colour of their frocks. They both always carried a sort
+of satchel, as if they were going and coming from school; and there was
+often with them, when they went to the village, either a man or woman
+servant, such as might be supposed to belong to a farmhouse. They
+often, however, passed by the window in the evening without a servant,
+and sometimes were met by a servant near the house. These little ones
+could not, from their appearance, have been more than seven years of
+age.
+
+"As Mrs. Howard watched them from day to day, she thought them the
+pleasantest little people she had seen for a long time; and all her
+ancient love for children, which age and weakness had almost made her
+fancy was nipped and blighted, began to spring up again and blossom as
+flowers in May. She wished to get acquainted with these fair ones, but
+she took her own way to do so.
+
+"She began one morning, when her window was open, by giving them a kind
+smile as they were walking gravely by, with a man in a smock-frock
+behind them. On seeing this smile they both stopped short and dropped
+formal curtseys.
+
+"From that time, for a week or more, these smiles and these curtseys
+passed between the old lady and the twins twice every day regularly.
+Before the end of the week the children had left off looking grave at
+the lady, and gave smile for smile. You may be sure that Mrs. Howard,
+though she had not poor Betty and Crop to send on her errands, did
+manage to get some pretty toys ready to give these little girls
+whenever the time should come when she should think it right to make
+herself better acquainted with them; but she thought that she would
+observe their ways first, and in doing so she saw several things which
+pleased her. Once she saw them give a poor beggar some of what had been
+put in their satchels for their dinners; and she saw them another time
+pick up something which a very old man had dropped, and give it him as
+politely as they would have done to my lord judge, though it was only a
+potato which he had dropped from a basket. Seeing this it reminded her
+of the old man and his bundle of sticks, and of the ill-behaviour of
+Master Bennet; and then all those old days came fresh to her mind. Mrs.
+Howard had sent to a friend in London to get the toys--two dolls
+exactly alike, and the histories of Miss Jemima Meek and Peter Pippin
+were the things she sent for; and they had not arrived a week when Mrs.
+Howard found a use for them. It was the beginning of July, and a very
+hot close day; Mrs. Howard sat at her window, and saw the little ones
+go as usual towards the village; it was Saturday, and she knew that
+they would be back again about one, for it was a half-holiday. The heat
+became greater and greater towards noon; there was not a breath of air,
+and the sun was hidden by a red glaring mist.
+
+"'We shall have a tempest,' said Mrs. Howard to a maid who had been
+hired to wait upon her; 'I hope the little girls will get home before
+it comes on--have they far to go?'
+
+"When Mrs. Howard had explained what little girls she meant, the maid
+told her that they were the children of a farmer of the name of
+Symonds, and that the house was not a half-mile distant up the lane.
+
+"Whilst Mrs. Howard was talking with the servant, the heavens had grown
+black, the clouds hung low; there was a creaking, groaning sort of
+sound among the trees, and the larger birds arose and flew heavily over
+the woods, uttering harsh cryings.
+
+"'It's coming,' said the servant; and at the same instant the two
+little ones appeared walking from the village.
+
+"'There they are,' cried Mrs. Howard; and at the same moment a
+tremendous flash of lightning covered the whole heavens, followed by a
+peal of awful thunder. Mrs. Howard put her head out of the window, and
+called the little girls, who, from very fright, were standing still.
+
+"They gladly obeyed the call, the maid went down to meet them, and the
+next minute they stood curtseying within the parlour-door. The maid had
+seen a boy who had been sent to meet them, and sent him back to tell
+his mistress that the Misses were with the lady, and that she would
+keep them till the storm was over.
+
+"'What lady am I to say?' asked the boy.
+
+"'Our lady,' replied the maid; 'Surgeon Johnson's aunt.'
+
+"The boy ran home, and told Mrs. Symonds not to be uneasy, for the
+little Misses were safe with Madam Johnson, who lodged at the Wood
+House; so Mrs. Symonds was made easy about her pretty daughters.
+
+"'Well, my dears,' said Mrs. Howard, putting her hands out to the
+little people, 'I am glad to see you in my parlour.'
+
+"'Thank you, ma'am,' said one of them; and the other repeated the same
+words.
+
+"As they spoke they came near, and put each a hand into Mrs. Howard's.
+
+"'Let me look at you, my children,' said the old lady in her pleasant
+smiling way; 'you are like two lilies growing out of one root; I cannot
+tell one from the other; what are your names?'
+
+"'I am Mary, ma'am,' said the eldest.
+
+"'And I am Amelia,' added the other.
+
+"'Amelia,' said Mrs. Howard, 'why, that is my name: but which is the
+oldest?'
+
+"'We came to our mother the same day,' replied Mary; 'but I came first,
+only a very little while though.'
+
+"'Indeed!' said Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Mrs. Baynes had come into the parlour after the children, to see and
+hear what was going forward; and now she thought it time to put in a
+word.
+
+"'Yes, ma'am,' she said, 'they are twins; they are the only ones their
+mother ever had, and they are two pretty Misses, and very good
+children. Are not you very good, my precious dears?'
+
+"The two little ones turned to her; and answered both together:
+
+"'No, ma'am.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard rather wondered at this answer, and said:
+
+"'Not good, my dears, how is that?'
+
+"'We wish to be good, ma'am,' said one of the little girls, 'but we are
+not.'
+
+"'Well to be sure!' remarked Mrs. Baynes; 'but you have a very good
+mamma, my little dears.'
+
+"'Mamma is good to us,' said Mary.
+
+"'But God is the only real good person,' added Amelia.
+
+"Mrs. Howard was rather surprised, but as the storm was still getting
+more frightful, she moved her chair, shut the window, and sat in the
+middle of the room; the two little ones in their fear clinging to her,
+whilst she put an arm round each of them.
+
+"Mrs. Baynes went out to close the windows, and they were left
+together.
+
+"Peal came after peal, and flash after flash; and the old lady and
+children trembled.
+
+"'We ought not to fear,' said Mrs. Howard; 'it is wrong; is not the
+lightning in the hands of God?'
+
+"'We will try not to be afraid,' said the little ones; and they clung
+closer to Mrs. Howard.
+
+"And now there came a fearful hailstorm, patter, patter, against the
+window; and when the hail ceased the rain came pouring down.
+
+"'Now, my loves, let us thank God,' said Mrs. Howard, 'the danger is
+past.'
+
+"The little ones, with that quick obedience which we see in children
+only who are well brought up, joined their hands and said, 'Thank God!'
+but they expressed some fear lest their mother should be frightened
+about them.
+
+"'We will see about that,' said Mrs. Howard; and she rang the hand-bell
+which always stood on the table, for bells were not then fixed on
+cranks and wires in every room as they are now.
+
+"Up came Mrs. Baynes again, and told the little ones that their mother
+knew where they were, for she had sent her a message by the boy.
+
+"'Then we can stay, ma'am,' said the children, quite pleased: and Mrs.
+Howard asked to have the dinner sent up, requesting Mrs. Baynes to make
+up a little more from her own pantry, if she could.
+
+"'That shall be done, ma'am,' she answered; and she added some eggs
+and bacon and a currant tart to Mrs. Howard's four bones of roast lamb.
+
+"'We should like to dine with you, ma'am,' said one of the little
+girls, 'and to drink tea with you sometimes.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard did not yet know one from the other, but she felt that all
+her old love for children was burning up again in her heart.
+
+"'I am old, my dears,' she answered, 'and cannot bear noise and bustle;
+if you can be quiet, I shall be glad to see you often, but if you tire
+me I cannot have you.'
+
+"'I hope we shall be quiet,' they answered; and then they asked her if
+she was _very, very_ old.
+
+"She told them she was eighty-two; and they said to each other, 'Then
+we _must_ be very quiet.'
+
+"The maid came in to lay the cloth, and they seemed quite amused by
+looking at her. The table was very small, but they said there would be
+quite room; and by Mrs. Howard's direction they went to her bedroom,
+took off their bonnets, and the maid combed their pretty curling hair.
+
+"They behaved as well as children could possibly do at table, though
+they prattled a little, and told Mrs. Howard of the animals they had at
+home, their kittens and the old cat, and an owl in the garden called
+Ralph, and many other things. When the dinner was removed, Mrs. Howard
+said she had a great treat for them.
+
+"'What is it, ma'am?' they said.
+
+"'Something very nice,' replied the old lady; and going to the corner
+cupboard, she brought out a doll's cradle, and a small trunk full of
+doll's clothes, and the two new dolls both wrapped in the paper in
+which they had come from London.
+
+"'Now,' she said, 'these are dolls which I keep for my visitors, and
+when you are here you may play with them. I do not call them yours,
+only when you are here; but you may choose which you will call your own
+in this house. Their names are Mary and Amelia.'
+
+"'Oh, ma'am! Oh, ma'am!' cried the children; they were too glad to say
+another word.
+
+"'You may take out the clothes from the trunk and dress them; but,
+before you go, you must put on their night-dresses, and put them to bed
+in the cradle, and restore all the other clothes to the trunk.' The
+little ones quite trembled with joy; they were past speaking. 'Now,'
+said Mrs. Howard, 'go into the bow-window. The lightning is past. I
+must keep in my chair, and you must not disturb me. If the day was
+finer I should let you go into the garden to play, but to-day you
+cannot.'
+
+[Illustration: "_The happy little girls went with the dolls into the
+bow-window._"--Page 174.]
+
+"The happy little girls went with the dolls into the bow-window, and
+Mrs. Howard got her usual short sleep. They did not make any noise. In
+all their behaviour they showed that they had been well brought up.
+
+"They drank tea with Mrs. Howard, and were very busy after tea in
+showing all the clothes to their old kind friend, and in packing them
+up in the trunk, and putting the dolls in the cradle, and restoring all
+the things to the place from whence they had been taken.
+
+"Mrs. Howard saw them kiss the dolls, and heard them wish them a
+good-night when they had done.
+
+"Mrs. Symonds had sent her green market cart and cloaks for her little
+girls. When the cart came they both kissed Mrs. Howard, and asked her
+if they had been quiet.
+
+"'Very quiet, my dears,' she answered.
+
+"'Then may we come again?'
+
+"'You may, my darlings,' answered the old lady; 'and next Saturday
+shall be the day, if all is well.'
+
+"The fair little creatures did come on the day fixed, and the man
+who fetched them home that night brought Mrs. Howard a small cream
+cheese and several pats of fresh butter, with many, many thanks from
+Mrs. Symonds for her great kindness to her children.
+
+"From the day of the thunderstorm till the end of the summer the little
+girls spent Saturday afternoon, every week, with Mrs. Howard, and now
+and then stopped an hour with her on other days; and never passed the
+window without speaking to her, often coming in with flowers, or fruit,
+or a fresh egg, or some little thing from the garden or poultry-yard.
+Thus such a friendship grew up between the old lady and these little
+girls, that one might have thought that Mrs. Howard must have been
+their grandmother.
+
+"Often and often she would hear them read a chapter, or repeat a hymn,
+and do what she could to improve their minds; she taught them to sing
+some fine old psalm tunes, and she also taught them some new stitches
+in the samplers they were working. Many times she walked between them a
+little way in the wood, whilst they carried the dolls, and in these
+walks she often told them stories, so that they loved her more and more
+every day, and tried more and more to please her.
+
+"All this time Mrs. Symonds had been so busy with the work of the farm
+that she had not found time to come herself to thank Mrs. Howard for
+all she was doing for her little ones; and it was rather strange that
+all this time she had understood that the kind old lady's name was
+Johnson. The children never called her anything but 'our nice lady,'
+and never thought of any other name for her.
+
+"But the harvest-time being over, Mr. Symonds told his wife that she
+must not put off calling on the lady any longer.
+
+"'And be sure,' he said, 'that you take something nice in your hand, or
+let the boy carry it after you; some nice cakes and butter pats, or
+anything else; and you may as well go and meet the children as they
+come home this evening, and go in with them.'
+
+"Mrs. Symonds was one of those old-fashioned wives who never went
+anywhere but to church, and as her church was not at Pangbourne she
+seldom passed the Wood House. She, however, made up her basket of
+presents, and having dressed herself neatly, she took the boy and went
+to meet her children.
+
+"She met them a little above the Wood House, and they turned back with
+her, and soon brought her to the door of Mrs. Howard's parlour: there
+they knocked, and the old lady having called to them to come in, the
+twins entered, leading their mother.
+
+"But how great was their surprise when their mother, at the sight of
+Mrs. Howard, uttered a cry, ran forwards and threw her arms round the
+old lady's neck.
+
+"'Oh, dear, dear Mrs. Howard,' she said, 'is it you? Can it be you?'
+
+"Mrs. Howard did not know Mrs. Symonds, and as she drew herself civilly
+from her arms, she said:
+
+"'Indeed, ma'am, I have not the pleasure of knowing you.'
+
+"'Not remember Polly Bennet?' replied Mrs. Symonds, 'but I remember
+you, my best and dearest friend, and shall remember you, for I have
+cause to do so, when time shall be no more.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard now herself came forward and kissed Mrs. Symonds. The
+tears stood in the old lady's eyes, and she placed her old thin hands
+in the other's.
+
+"'And are you,' she said, 'the mother of these dear little girls? and
+have I lived near you so long and not known you? Now I think I can
+trace the features; sit down, my dear friend, and tell me all about
+yourself and your family.'
+
+"'I have not much to say,' answered Mrs. Symonds; 'my parents are dead,
+and my brother living far off: and I have been blessed beyond my
+deservings in a good husband and these dear children.'
+
+"'Dear, indeed,' said Mrs. Howard.
+
+"'But how can I value enough what you have done for me, Mrs. Howard?'
+said Mrs. Symonds, 'and through me, in some sort, to my mother and
+father before their death.'
+
+"'I do not understand you,' said Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Mrs. Symonds then told the old lady how she had been affected by the
+last kindness which she had shown to her and her brother.
+
+"'When you sent for us, dear madam,' she said, 'we accepted your
+invitation because we expected presents; but with presents we expected
+also, what we had well deserved, a severe lecture. But when you spoke
+to us, as you did, with such amazing kindness--when you even almost
+begged our pardons if you had been hard upon us, which you never
+were--when you spoke to us of our Saviour, whilst your eyes filled with
+tears, we were cut to the heart and filled with shame, and we then
+resolved to read the Bibles you gave us. And we never could forget your
+words.
+
+"'The work, indeed, is of God; but you, dear lady, were made the
+minister of it in the commencement. You were the first person who made
+me and my brother to understand that the new spirit imparted by God to
+His children is the spirit of love.'
+
+"Mrs. Symonds said much more; indeed she went on speaking till Mrs.
+Howard burst into tears of joy and thankfulness.
+
+"The little ones were frightened to see their mother and Mrs. Howard
+weeping, and could not at first be made to understand that they were
+crying for very joy. When they understood that Mrs. Howard was an old
+dear friend of their mother's, they became happy again.
+
+"What a pleasant party there was that evening in the bow-window! the
+white cakes and fresh butter and cream were added to the feast; and
+what a delightful story was there to tell to Mr. Symonds when his wife
+and children got home!
+
+"'Tell the old lady,' said Mr. Symonds, 'that I should be ever ready to
+serve her to the last drop of my blood.'
+
+"From that time," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "till the death of Mrs.
+Howard, which happened in her ninetieth year, Mr. and Mrs. Symonds were
+a son and daughter to her. Mary and Amelia never both left her;
+sometimes one, and sometimes both, being continually with her."
+
+"This is a beautiful story," said Lucy.
+
+"I wish it was longer," said Henry; "can't you tell us more, ma'am?"
+
+"Not now, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "we must go in now; and,
+indeed, I know not that I have any more to tell."
+
+It was late when the family got home. As they were returning, Mrs.
+Fairchild told Mr. Fairchild the story of old Mrs. Howard, which
+pleased him much.
+
+
+
+
+The Fair Little Lady
+
+[Illustration: The coach came in sight]
+
+
+It was not long after that delightful day at Mrs. Goodriche's, when the
+children, having done their morning lessons, had just gone out of the
+hall-door, on their way to Henry's arbour, when they heard the wheels
+of a carriage sounding from a distance.
+
+The sound was not like that of a waggon, which goes along heavily,
+crashing and breaking the stones in its passage, whilst the feet of the
+horses come down with a heavy beat upon the ground; but horses and
+wheels went lightly, and as if the carriage was coming near quickly.
+
+Very few light carriages passed that way, and therefore when anything
+of the kind was heard or seen, everybody left off what they were doing
+to look, let them be ever so busy. Lucy and Emily and Henry ran down to
+the gate which opened on the road. Henry climbed to the top of the
+highest bar; but the little girls stood on one side, where they were
+half hidden by a rose-bush.
+
+When they were got there the carriage was heard more plainly: and
+Henry was hardly fixed upon the top of the gate before John came up,
+with a hoe and a basket in his hand.
+
+"So, Master Henry," he said, "you are come to see the coach; I just
+caught sight of it as it went round the corner below, and I promise you
+it is worth seeing; it beats Sir Charles Noble's to nothing--but here
+they come."
+
+At first there appeared a groom, dressed in a glazed hat, and a livery,
+and shining boots; and he was riding a fine horse, and he went forward
+quickly; he had several dogs running by him. Lucy and Emily were glad
+that John, with his hoe, was close by, for they did not love strange
+dogs.
+
+But the groom and his dogs were very soon out of sight; he was riding
+on to see that the gates were open where the coach was going.
+Immediately afterwards the coach came in sight--and a fine new coach it
+was; and there were four horses, with postillions whipping and cutting
+away; and ladies and gentlemen in the coach.
+
+Lucy and Emily and Henry did not look at the grown people, but at a
+very pretty little lady, of Emily's age perhaps, who was looking out of
+the window on their side.
+
+They saw her face, which was fair and very pale, and they saw her
+curling light hair, and her blue satin hat, which had white feathers in
+it; and they knew that she saw them, for she rather smiled and looked
+pleased, and turned to speak about them, they thought, to the lady next
+to her. But the coach was gone in a minute, not rattling like a
+hack-chaise, but making a sort of low rumbling sound, and that sound
+was not heard long.
+
+"Who are those?" said Henry, as he stood at the very top of the gate,
+like a bird upon a perch, "who are those fine people?"
+
+"They are the great folks," replied John, "who are come to live at Sir
+Charles Noble's. They call them Honourable--by way of distinction--the
+Honourable Mr. and Mrs. Darwell, and they are immensely rich; and that
+is their only child, for they have but one--and she, to be sure, is no
+small treasure, as people say, and they never can make enough of her."
+
+"What is her name, John?" asked Lucy.
+
+"Don't ask me, Miss," replied John; "for though I have heard the name,
+I could not pretend to speak it properly, it is so unaccountably fine."
+
+"I should like to hear it," said Emily.
+
+"And that you will be sure to do soon, Miss," answered John; "for all
+the country is talking about the family, and they say they are uncommon
+grand."
+
+"But, John," said Henry, "when will you come and nail the benches in my
+hut? Will you come now? Shall I fetch the hammer and nails?"
+
+"No, master," returned John, "you need not fetch them, for I have them
+here in this basket, and was just going when I saw the coach."
+
+"Away then," cried Henry, jumping from the top of the gate, and running
+before, whilst John followed close behind him, and Lucy and Emily came
+afterwards, talking of the fair little lady.
+
+
+
+
+Story of a Holiday
+
+[Illustration: Henry looked along the road]
+
+
+One day a letter came from Mrs. Goodriche to say that she was going
+early the next day to the town, in a hired chaise, and that she hoped
+to be back again in the evening; she added that, as she should be quite
+alone, it would be a great pleasure to her to take up Mrs. Fairchild
+and one of the little people to go with her to town, and she would set
+them down again at their gate.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild thought this a very neighbourly offer, and it was soon
+settled that she should go, and take Lucy with her, and that Mr.
+Fairchild should get the horse he often rode and attend the carriage.
+
+Lucy very much pressed her mother to take Emily instead of herself, but
+it was Lucy's turn to go out when there was a scheme only for one, and
+I don't think that Emily would have taken it from her on any account.
+So an answer was written to Mrs. Goodriche, and her kind invitation
+accepted.
+
+There was a good deal of talking and settling with Lucy about what
+Emily and Henry wanted her to get for them in the town, before they
+went to bed. Emily had one shilling and sixpence, and Henry tenpence,
+and it was of great consequence to them that this money should be spent
+to the best advantage.
+
+It was at last settled that Lucy should choose a book for each of
+them--Henry's book was to be about a boy--and the rest of their money,
+if any was left, was to be spent as Lucy thought might please them
+best. So she took their money, and put it into her purse with her own.
+She had two shillings, and she had settled it in her own mind that she
+would buy nothing for herself, but spend some, if not all of it, for
+her sister and brother.
+
+The family were all up at six o'clock, and soon afterwards they might
+be seen seated before the open window of the parlour at breakfast,
+those who were going being quite ready.
+
+Emily and Henry, who were to be left, were to have no lessons to do,
+but their father and mother advised them not to tire themselves in the
+early part of the day by running about, but to amuse themselves during
+the very hottest hours with something quiet. Mr. Fairchild also
+reminded them that they must not go beyond the bounds in which they
+were always allowed to play.
+
+"I hope we shall be good, mamma," said Emily, "I hope we shall!" And
+Henry said the same.
+
+Henry ran out to the gate to look for the carriage after he had taken
+breakfast, and he got to the very highest bar, and looked along the
+road, which he could see a great way, because it came down a steep hill
+from Mrs. Goodriche's house.
+
+It was hardly more than a black speck on the white road when he first
+saw it, and then he lost sight of it as it descended into the valley,
+and he heard it rattle and jingle before he got sight of it again; but
+when he was sure of it, he ran to the house, and you might have heard
+Lucy's name from the very cellar to the roof.
+
+Emily was with Lucy in their little room, and she was holding her
+gloves whilst Lucy tied her bonnet, and she was talking over the things
+that were to be bought, when their brother's voice came up the stairs
+as loud and sharp as if a stage-coach was coming, which would not wait
+one moment for those who were going.
+
+"I hope we shall not get into a scrape to-day," said Emily: "Henry has
+forgotten the day when mamma and papa went out, and we behaved so ill;
+what can we do to keep ourselves out of mischief?"
+
+Lucy had no time to answer, for Henry was at the door, and there was
+such a rub-a-dub-dub upon it that her voice could not have been heard.
+At the same minute the hack-chaise had come jingling up to the gate,
+and Mrs. Goodriche was looking out with her pleasant smiling face.
+John, too, had brought the horse to the gate, and everybody who
+belonged to the house was soon out upon the grass-plot; the dog was
+there, and quite as set up as Henry himself; and Betty came too, though
+nobody knew why. Mrs. Fairchild got in first, and then Lucy; and
+everybody said good-bye as if those who were going were not to come
+back for a month; and the post-boy cracked his whip, and Mr. Fairchild
+mounted his horse, and away they went.
+
+Emily and Henry watched them till the turn of the road prevented them
+from seeing them any longer; and then Henry said:
+
+"Let us run to the chesnut-trees at the top of the round hill, and then
+we shall be able to see the carriage again going up on the other side;
+I saw it come down from Mrs. Goodriche's."
+
+"Stay but one moment," said Emily, and she ran upstairs, put on her
+bonnet and tippet, and was down again in one minute, with her doll on
+her arm and a little book in her hand.
+
+"Come, come," said Henry, and away they ran along a narrow path, among
+the shrubs in the garden, out at a little gate, and up the green slope.
+They were very soon at the top of the small hill, and under the shade
+of the chesnut-trees. They passed through the grove to the side which
+was farthest from their house, and then they sat down on the dry and
+bare root of one of the trees.
+
+For a minute or more they could not see the carriage, because it was
+down in the valley beneath them, and the road there was much shaded by
+willows and wych-elms and other trees that love the neighbourhood of
+water, for the brook which turned the mill was down there. But when the
+carriage began to go up on the other side, they saw it quite plain;
+there was the post-boy in his yellow jacket, jogging up and down on his
+saddle, and Mr. Fairchild sometimes a little before and sometimes a
+little behind the carriage.
+
+Henry was still in very high spirits; he was apt to be set up by any
+change, and when he was set up, he was almost sure to get into a
+scrape, unless something could be thought of to settle him down
+quietly.
+
+Emily had thought of something, and got it ready; but whilst the
+carriage was in sight nothing was to be done, for Henry had picked up a
+branch which had fallen from one of the trees, and as he sat on the
+root, was jogging up and down, waving his branch like a whip, and
+imitating those sort of odd noises which drivers make to their horses;
+such as gee-up! so-ho! and now and then he made a sort of smacking with
+his lips.
+
+"Are you driving a waggon or a coach?" asked Emily.
+
+"A coach, to be sure," said Henry; "don't you see that I have got a
+chaise from the Red Lion, and that I am driving Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs.
+Goodriche and Miss Lucy Fairchild to the town, and here we go on?"
+
+The carriage was long getting up the hill, for it was a very steep one;
+but when it had reached the top, it got in among trees again, and was
+soon out of sight; and then Emily said:
+
+"Now, Henry, I am going to curl my doll's hair, and dress her over
+again, for she is not tidy, and I have got a little book here which you
+may read to me."
+
+"What book is it?" said Henry.
+
+"You never saw it," she answered; "mamma found it yesterday in a box
+where she keeps many old things--she did not know that she had saved
+it--it was hers when she was a little child, and she supposed that it
+was lost."
+
+"Let me see it, Emily," said Henry.
+
+"Will you read it to me then?" asked Emily.
+
+Henry was a good-natured boy, and loved his sisters, and had much
+pleasure in doing what they wished him to do; he therefore said at
+once, "Yes," threw away his branch of fir, and took the book.
+
+This little book, which Mrs. Fairchild had found in her old chest,
+could not have been much less than a hundred years old; it was the size
+of a penny book, and had a covering of gilt paper, with many old cuts;
+its title was, "The History of the Little Boy who, when running after
+the Echo, found his Papa."
+
+When Henry had seen how many pictures there were, and when he had read
+the title, he was quite in a hurry to begin the story, and Emily was so
+much pleased at hearing it, although she had read it before, that she
+forgot her doll altogether, and let her lie quietly on her lap.
+
+
+
+
+Little Edwy and the Echo
+
+[Illustration: He turned away from the terrible bird]
+
+
+"It was in the time of our good Queen Anne, when none of the trees in
+the great forest of Norwood, near London, had begun to be cut down,
+that a very rich gentleman and lady lived there: their name was Lawley.
+
+"They had a fine old house and large garden, with a wall all round it,
+and the woods were so close upon this garden, that some of the high
+trees spread their branches over the top of the wall.
+
+"Now, this lady and gentleman were very proud and very grand, and
+despised all people poorer than themselves, and there were none whom
+they despised more than the gipsies, who lived in the forest all about.
+
+"There was no place in all England then so full of gipsies as the
+forest of Norwood.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had been married many years, and had no children;
+at length they had one son--they called him Edwy, and they felt they
+could not make too much of him, or dress him too fine.
+
+"When he was just old enough to run about without help, he used to wear
+his trousers inlaid with the finest lace, with golden studs and laced
+robings; he had a plume of feathers in his cap, which was of velvet,
+with a button of gold to fasten it up in front under the feathers, so
+that whoever saw him with the servants who attended him, used to say,
+'Whose child is that?'
+
+"He was a pretty boy, too, and, when his first sorrow came, was still
+too young to have learned any of the proud ways of his father and
+mother.
+
+"No one is so rich as to be above the reach of trouble, therefore pride
+and self-sufficiency are never suitable to the state of man.
+
+"Trouble was long in coming to Mr. and Mrs. Lawley, but when it came it
+was only the more terrible.
+
+"One day, when the proud parents had been absent some hours on a visit
+to a friend a few miles distant, Edwy was nowhere to be found on their
+return--his waiting-maid was gone, and had taken away his finest
+clothes; at least, these were also missing.
+
+"The poor father and mother were almost beside themselves with grief,
+and all the gentlemen and magistrates about rose up together to find
+the child, and discover those who had stolen him, but all in vain; of
+course, the gipsies were suspected and well examined, but nothing could
+be made of it; nor was it ever made out in what way the little boy was
+got off; but got off he had been by the gipsies, and carried away to a
+country among hills, on the borders of the two shires of Worcester and
+Hereford."
+
+"Did not I know it?" cried Henry, as he stopped to turn over a leaf; "I
+knew it from the first that the gipsies had him."
+
+"In that country," he continued, as he read on, "there is a valley
+where two watercourses meet deep in a bottom; where there are many
+trees, and many bushes, and much broken irregular ground, where also
+there are rocks, and caves, and holes in these rocks, and every
+possible convenience for the haunt of wild people. To this place the
+gipsies carried the little boy, and there they kept him, all the
+following winter, warm in a hut with some of their own children.
+
+"They had stripped him of his velvet, and feathers, and lace, and gold
+clasps, and studs, and clothed him in rags, and daubed his fair skin
+with mud; but they fed him well; and after a little while he seemed to
+be unconscious of any change.
+
+"Now, the part which comes next of this true and wonderful history has
+nothing to go upon but the confused and imperfect recollections of a
+little child.
+
+"The story nowhere tells the age of Edwy when he was stolen, but he had
+been lost to his parents from the time that the leaves in the forest of
+Norwood were becoming sear and falling off, till the sweet spring was
+far advanced towards the summer.
+
+"Probably the cunning gipsies had hoped that during the long months of
+winter the little child would quite forget the few words which he had
+learned to speak distinctly in his father's house, or that he would
+forget also to call himself Edwy; or to cry, as he remembered that he
+often did, 'Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa! come to little Edwy.' The
+gipsies tried to teach him that his name was not Edwy, but Jack or Tom,
+or some such name; and to make him say mam and dad, and call himself
+the gipsy boy, born in a barn. But after he had learned all these
+words, whenever anything hurt or frightened him, he would cry again,
+'Mamma! papa! come to Edwy.' The gipsies could not take him out, of
+course, whilst there was danger of his breaking out in this way; and
+after he came to that hut in the valley, he did not remember ever going
+out with any of the people when they went their rounds of begging, and
+pilfering, and buying rags; telling fortunes meanwhile, as gipsies
+always do.
+
+"When left behind, there were always two or three children, a great
+girl, an old woman, or a sick person, staying with him, until the day
+which set him free from his troubles. It was in the month of May. Who
+would not like to live like a gipsy in a wood, if all the year round
+was like that month of May? It was about noon, and Edwy, who had been
+up before the sun, to breakfast with those who were going out for their
+day's begging and stealing, had fallen asleep on a bed of dry leaves in
+the hut, as soon as most of the people were gone; one old woman, who
+was too lame to tramp, was left with him.
+
+"He slept long, and when he awoke he sat up on his bed of leaves, and
+looked about him to see who was with him; he saw no one within the hut,
+and no one at the doorway.
+
+"Little children have great dread of being alone. He listened to hear
+if there were any voices without, but he could hear nothing but the
+rush of a waterfall close by, and the distant cry of sheep and lambs.
+The next thing the little one remembered that he did, was to get up and
+go out of the door of the hut. The hut was built of rude rafters and
+wattles in the front of a cave or hole in a rock; it was down low in
+the glen at the edge of the brook, a little below the waterfall. When
+the child came out, he looked anxiously for somebody, and was more and
+more frightened when he could see no creature of his own kind amid all
+the green leaves, and all along the water's edge above and below.
+
+"Where was the old woman all this time? who can say? but perhaps not
+far off; perhaps she might have been deaf, and, though near, did not
+hear the noise made by the child when he came out of the hut.
+
+"Edwy did not remember how long he stood by the brook; but this is
+certain that the longer he felt himself to be alone, the more
+frightened he became, and soon began to fancy terrible things. There
+was towards the top of the rock from which the waters fell a huge old
+yew-tree, or rather bush, which hung forward over the fall. It looked
+very black in comparison with the tender green of the fresh leaves of
+the neighbouring trees, and the white and glittering spray of the
+water. Edwy looked at it and fancied that it moved; his eye was
+deceived by the dancing motion of the water.
+
+"Whilst he looked and looked, some great black bird came out from the
+midst of it uttering a harsh croaking noise. The little boy could bear
+no more; he turned away from the terrible bush and the terrible bird,
+and ran down the valley, leaving hut and all behind, and crying, as he
+always did when hurt or frightened, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come, oh, come to
+Edwy!'
+
+"He ran and ran, whilst his little bare feet were pierced with pebbles,
+and his legs torn with briars, until he came to where the valley became
+narrower, and where one might have thought the rocks and banks on each
+side had been cleft by the hand of a giant, so nicely would they have
+fitted could they have been brought together again. The brook ran along
+a pebble channel between these rocks and banks, and there was a rude
+path which went in a line with the brook; a path which was used only by
+the gipsies and a few poor cottagers, whose shortest way from the great
+road at the end of the valley to their own houses was by that solitary
+way.
+
+"As Edwy ran, he still cried, 'Mamma! mamma! papa! papa! Oh, come, oh,
+come to Edwy!'--and he kept up his cry from time to time as he found
+breath to utter it, till his young voice began to be returned in a sort
+of hollow murmur.
+
+"When first he observed this, he was even more frightened than before;
+he stood and looked round, and then he turned with his back towards the
+hut, and ran and ran again, till he got deeper amongst the rocks. He
+stopped again, for the high black banks frightened him still more, and
+setting up his young voice he called again, and his call was the same
+as before.
+
+"He had scarcely finished his cry, when a voice, from whence he knew
+not, seemed to answer him; it said, 'Come, come to Edwy;' it said it
+once, it said it twice, it said it a third time, but it seemed each
+time more distant.
+
+"The child looked up, the child looked round, he could never describe
+what he felt; but in his great agitation he cried more loudly, 'Oh,
+papa! mamma! Come, come to poor Edwy!' It was an echo, the echo of the
+rocks which repeated the words of the child; and the more loudly he
+spoke, the more perfect was the echo; but he could catch only the few
+last words; this time he only heard, 'Poor, poor Edwy!' Edwy had not
+lost all recollection of some far distant happy home, and of some kind
+parents far away; and now at that minute he believed that what the echo
+said came from them, and that they were calling to him, and saying,
+'Poor, poor Edwy!' But where were those who called to him? alas! he
+could not tell. Were they in the holes in the rocks?--his mind was then
+used to the notion of people living in caves--or were they at the top
+of the rocks? or were they up high in the blue bright heavens?
+
+"It would have been a sorrowful sight to behold that pretty boy
+looking up at the rocks and the sky, and down among the reeds, and
+sedges, and alders by the side of the brook, for some persons to whom
+the voice might belong; in hopes of seeing that same lady he sometimes
+dreamed of, and that kind gentleman he used to call papa; and to see
+how the tears gushed from his eyes when he could not find anyone.
+
+"After a while he called again, and called louder still. 'Come, come,'
+was his cry again, 'Edwy is lost! lost! lost!' Echo repeated the last
+words as before, 'Lost! lost! lost!' and now the voice sounded from
+behind him, for he had moved round a corner of a rock.
+
+"The child heard the voice behind, and turned and ran that way; and
+stopped and called again, and then heard it the other way; and next he
+shrieked from fear, and echo returned the shriek once more, and thrice,
+finishing off with broken sounds, which to Edwy's ears appeared as if
+somebody a long way off was mocking him.
+
+"His terror was now at its highest; indeed he could never remember what
+he did next, or when he turned to go down the valley; but turn he did,
+after having run back many paces.
+
+"His steps, however, were guided by One whose eye was never off him,
+even his kind and heavenly Father; and on he went, neither heeding
+stones nor briars; every step taking him nearer to the mouth of the
+glen, and the entrance on the great high road.
+
+"And who had been driving along that road in a fine carriage with four
+horses?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Who?" cried Henry Fairchild, turning over another leaf; "who, but his
+own papa?--but I must go on."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had given up all hopes of finding their little boy
+near Norwood, and they had set out in their coach to go all over the
+country in search of him. They had come the day before to a town near
+to the place where the gipsies had kept Edwy all the winter, and there
+they had made many inquiries, particularly about any gipsies who might
+be in the habit of haunting that country: but people there were afraid
+of the gipsies, and did not like to say anything which might bring them
+into trouble with them. The gipsies never did much mischief in the way
+of stealing near their own huts, and were always civil when civilly
+treated.
+
+"The poor father and mother, therefore, could get no information there;
+and the next morning they had come on across the country, and along the
+road into which the gipsies' valley opened.
+
+"Wherever these unhappy parents saw a wild country, full of woods, and
+where the ground was rough and broken, they thought, if possible, more
+than ever of their lost child; and at those times Mrs. Lawley always
+began to weep--indeed, she had done little else since she had missed
+her boy. The travellers first came in sight of the gipsies' valley, and
+the vast sweep of woods on each side of it, just as the horses had
+dragged the coach to the top of a very high hill or bank over which the
+road went; and then also those in the coach saw before them a very
+steep descent, so steep that it was thought right to put the drag upon
+the wheels.
+
+"Mr. Lawley proposed that they should get out and walk down the hill.
+Mrs. Lawley consented; the coach stopped, everyone got down from it,
+and Mr. Lawley walked first, followed closely by his servant William;
+whilst Mrs. Lawley came on afterwards, leaning on the arm of her
+favourite little maid Barbara. The poor parents, when their grief
+pressed most heavily on them, were easier with other people than with
+each other.
+
+"'Oh, Barbara!' said Mrs. Lawley, when the others were gone forward;
+'when I remember the pretty ways of my boy, and think of his lovely
+face and gentle temper, and of the way in which I lost him, my heart is
+ready to break; and I often remember, with shame and sorrow, the pride
+in which I indulged, before it pleased God to bring this dreadful
+affliction upon me.'
+
+"The little maid who walked by her wept too; but she said:
+
+"'Oh, dear mistress! if God would give us but the grace to trust in
+Him, our grief would soon be at an end. I wish we could trust in Him,
+for He can and will do everything for us to make us happy.'
+
+"'Ah, Barbara!' said the lady; and she could add no more--she went on
+in silence.
+
+"Mr. Lawley walked on before with the servant. He, too, was thinking of
+his boy, and his eye ranged over the wild scene on the right hand of
+the road. He saw a raven rise from the wood--he heard its croaking
+noise--it was perhaps the same black bird that had frightened Edwy.
+
+"William remarked to his master that there was a sound of falling
+water, and said there were sure to be brooks running in the valley. Mr.
+Lawley was, however, too sad to talk to his servant; he could only say,
+'I don't doubt it,' and then they both walked on in silence.
+
+"They came to the bottom of the valley even before the carriage got
+there. They found that the brook came out upon the road in that place,
+and that the road was carried over it by a little stone bridge.
+
+"Mr. Lawley stopped upon the bridge; he leaned on the low wall, and
+looked upon the dark mouth of the glen. William stood a little behind
+him.
+
+"William was young; his hearing and all his senses were very quick. As
+he stood there, he thought he heard a voice; but the rattling of the
+coach-wheels over the stony road prevented his hearing it distinctly.
+He heard the cry again; but the coach was coming nearer, and making it
+still more difficult for him to catch the sound.
+
+"His master was surprised to see him vault over the low parapet of the
+bridge the next moment, and run up the narrow path which led up the
+glen.
+
+"It was the voice of Edwy, and the answering echo, which William had
+heard. He had got at just a sufficient distance from the sound of the
+coach-wheels at the moment when the echo had returned poor little
+Edwy's wildest shriek.
+
+"The sound was fearful, broken, and not natural; but William was not
+easily put out; he looked back to his master, and his look was such
+that Mr. Lawley immediately left the bridge to follow him, though
+hardly knowing why.
+
+"They both went on up the glen, the man being many yards before the
+master. Another cry and another answering echo again reached the ear of
+William, proceeding as from before him. The young man again looked at
+his master and ran on. The last cry had been heard by Mr. Lawley, who
+immediately began to step with increasing quickness after his servant,
+though, as the valley turned and turned among the rocks, he soon lost
+sight of him.
+
+"Mr. Lawley was by this time come into the very place where the echo
+had most astonished Edwy, because each reverberation which it had made
+seemed to sound from opposite sides; and here he heard the cry again,
+and heard it distinctly. It was the voice of a child first, crying,
+'No! no! no! Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh, come!'--and then a fearful
+shriek or laugh of some wild woman's voice.
+
+"Mr. Lawley rushed on, winding swiftly between the rocks, whilst
+various voices, in various tones, which were all repeated in strange
+confusion by the echoes, rang in his ears; but amid all these sounds he
+thought only of that one plaintive cry, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh,
+come!' Suddenly he came out to where he saw his servant again, and with
+him an old woman, who looked like a witch. She had the hand of a little
+ragged child, to which she held firmly, though the baby, for such
+almost he was, struggled hard to get free, crying, 'Papa! mamma! Oh,
+come! Oh, come!'
+
+"William was arguing with the woman, and he had got the other hand of
+the child.
+
+"Mr. Lawley rushed on, trembling with hope, trembling with fear--could
+this boy be his Edwy? William had entered his service since he had lost
+his child; he could not therefore know him; nor could he himself be
+sure--so strange, so altered, did the baby look.
+
+"But Edwy knew his own father in a moment; he could not run to meet
+him, for he was tightly held by the gipsy, but he cried:
+
+"'Oh, papa! papa is come to Edwy!'
+
+"The old woman knew Mr. Lawley, and saw that the child knew him. She
+had been trying to persuade William that the boy was her grandchild;
+but it was all up with her now; she let the child's hand go, and whilst
+he was flying to his father's arms, she disappeared into some
+well-known hole or hollow in the neighbouring rocks.
+
+"Who can pretend to describe the feelings of the father when he felt
+the arms of his long-lost boy clinging round his neck, and his little
+heart beating against his own? or who could say what the mother felt
+when she saw her husband come out from the mouth of the valley,
+bearing in his arms the little ragged child? Could it be her own--her
+Edwy? She could hardly be sure of her happiness till the boy held out
+his arms to her, and cried, 'Mamma! mamma!'"
+
+[Illustration: "_Could it be her own--her Edwy? She could hardly be
+sure of her happiness._"--Page 202.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"This story is too short," said Henry; "I wish it had been twice as
+long; I want to hear more of that little boy and of the gipsies."
+
+"It is getting very hot," said Emily, when they had done talking; "let
+us go into the house, and we will not come out again until it is cool.
+I hope we shall not be naughty to-day, Henry, but do what papa and
+mamma will think right."
+
+"Come, then," replied Henry. And they went back to the house and spent
+the rest of the morning in their play-room: and I am sure that they
+were very happy in a quiet way, for Henry was making a grotto of moss
+and shells, fixed on a board with paste; and Emily was just beginning
+to make a little hermit to be in the grotto, till they both changed
+their minds a little, and turned the grotto into a gipsy's hut, and
+instead of a hermit an old woman was made to stand at the door.
+
+[Illustration: "Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"]
+
+
+
+
+Further Story of a Holiday
+
+[Illustration: "She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily]
+
+
+The evening was very cool and pleasant, when Emily and Henry went out
+to play. Mary Bush had given Henry a young magpie; she had taught it to
+say a few words, to the great delight of the children. It could say,
+"Good morning!" "How do you do?" "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry."
+"Give Mag her dinner." "A bit of meat for poor Mag." To be sure the
+bird's words did not come out very clearly. But it was quite enough, as
+Henry said, if he understood them.
+
+Mag had a large wicker cage, which generally hung up on a nail in the
+kitchen; but her master, being very fond of her company, used often to
+take the cage down, with the bird in it, and take it into his play-room
+or his hut, or hang it upon the bough of a tree before the parlour
+window, that Mag might enjoy the fresh air. Sometimes, too, Henry let
+the bird out, that she might enjoy herself a little, for as the
+feathers of one of her wings were cut close, she could not fly; and she
+was very tame, and never having known liberty, she was as fond of her
+cage, when she was tired or hungry, as some old ladies are of their
+parlours.
+
+"Let us take Mag with us out of doors," said Henry; and the cage was
+taken down and carried out between the two children, whilst Mag kept
+chattering all the way, and was, if anything, more pert and brisk than
+spoiled magpies generally are. They first went to the hut, and set the
+cage on the bench, whilst Henry and Emily busied themselves in putting
+a few things to rights about the place, which had been set wrong by a
+hard shower which had happened the night before. There were a few
+fallen leaves which had blown into the hut from some laurels growing on
+the outside; and Henry said:
+
+"I do hate laurels; for they are always untidy, and scattering about
+their yellow leaves when all the trees about them are in their best
+order."
+
+Whilst the children were going in and out after these leaves, to pick
+them up and throw them out of sight, Mag kept hopping from one perch to
+another, wriggling her tail, twisting her head to one side and another,
+and crying, "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry," in a voice more like
+scolding than anything else.
+
+"What now, mistress?" said Henry.
+
+"She is not in the best possible temper," replied Emily.
+
+"She wants to be out," answered Henry; "she does not like to be shut
+up."
+
+"But," said Emily, "it would be dangerous to let her out here, so far
+from the house, and amongst the trees."
+
+Henry was in a humour common not only to small but great boys on
+occasions. He chose, just then, to think himself wiser than his sister,
+and, without another word, he opened the cage door, and out walked
+Mag, with the air of a person who had gained a point, and despised
+those who had given way to her.
+
+And first she strutted round the inside of the hut, crying, "Oh, pretty
+Mag!" with a vast deal of importance, and then she walked out at the
+entrance, trailing her tail after her, like a lady in a silk gown.
+
+"She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily; "and how shall we get
+her out of them?"
+
+"Never fear," returned Henry; "you know that she cannot fly."
+
+One would have thought that the bird knew what they said, for whilst
+they spoke, she laid her head on one side, as if turning an ear--stood
+still a minute, and then paraded onwards--I say paraded, for if she had
+been walking at a coronation she could not have taken more state upon
+herself.
+
+"Let us see which way she goes," said Henry.
+
+And the two children walked after her; Emily bringing the light wicker
+cage with her.
+
+Mag knew as well that they were after her as if she had been what the
+country people call a Christian, meaning a human creature. And she
+walked on, not taking to the shrubs, which grew thick about the hut,
+but along a bit of grass-plot, at the farthest end of which was a row
+of laurels and other evergreens. These trees hid the back yard of the
+house from the garden and small portion of land near to it, which Mr.
+Fairchild had given up to flowering shrubs and ornamental trees.
+
+Behind these evergreens was a row of palings, and as Mag drew near to
+these laurels, Henry ran forward, crying:
+
+"She will get through the palings, if we don't mind, and into the
+yard."
+
+Mag let him come near to her, and then gave a long hop, standing still
+till he was only at arm's length from her. Then she gave a second hop,
+alighting under a branch of laurel; and when Henry rushed forward to
+catch her there, she made another spring, and was hidden among the
+leaves.
+
+"Stop! stop!" cried Henry, "stop there, Emily, where you are; and I
+will run round and drive her back; and you must be ready to catch her."
+And away he ran to the nearest wicket, and was on the other side of the
+laurels and the paling, in the fold-yard, not a minute afterwards.
+
+Emily heard him making a noise on the opposite side of the shrubs, as
+if he thought Mag was between him and his sister, among the laurels;
+and he called also to her, bidding her to be ready when the bird
+appeared.
+
+Emily watched and watched, but no bird came out; and not a minute
+afterwards she heard Henry cry:
+
+"O there! there! I see her going across the yard towards the barn! Come
+round! leave the cage! come quickly, Emily!"
+
+She obeyed the call in an instant; down went the cage on the grass. She
+was at the wicket and in the fold-yard in a minute, and there she saw
+Mag pacing along the yard, in her coronation step, towards the barn,
+being, to all appearance, in no manner of hurry, and seeming to be
+quite unconscious of the near neighbourhood of her master and his
+sister.
+
+"Hush, hush!" whispered Henry; "don't make a noise." And the two
+children trod softly and slowly towards the side of the yard where the
+bird was, as if they had been treading on eggs or groping through the
+dark and afraid of a post at every step. They thought that Maggy was
+not conscious of their approach; though Emily did not quite like the
+cunning way in which the bird laid her head on every side, as if the
+better to hear the sound.
+
+Once again Henry was at arm's length from her, and had even extended
+himself as far forward as he could, and stretched out his hand to catch
+her, when his foot slipped, and down he came at full length in the
+dust. At the same instant Maggy made a hop, and turned to look back at
+Henry from the very lowest edge of the thatch of the barn, or rather of
+a place where the roof of the barn was extended downwards over a low
+wood-house.
+
+Henry was up in a minute, not heeding the thick brown powder with which
+his face and hands and pinafore were covered; and Emily had scarcely
+come up to the place where he had fallen, before he was endeavouring to
+catch at the bird on the low ledge to which she had hopped.
+
+But Maggy had no mind to be thus caught; she had gotten her liberty,
+and she was disposed to keep it a little longer; and when she saw the
+hand near her, she made another hop, and appeared higher up on the
+slanting thatch.
+
+After some little talking over the matter, Henry proposed getting up
+the thatch; and how he managed to persuade Emily to do the same, or
+whether she did not want much persuasion, is not known; but this is
+very certain, that they both soon climbed upon this thatch, having
+found a ladder in the yard, which John used in some of his work, and
+having set it against the wood-house, and from the top of the
+wood-house made their way to the roof of the barn.
+
+"Now we shall have her!" cried Henry, as he made his way on his hands
+and knees along the sloping thatch; and again his hand was stretched
+out to seize the bird, when she made another upward hop, and was as far
+off as she had been when she sat on the edge of the thatch and he lay
+in the dust.
+
+"What a tiresome creature!" cried Henry.
+
+"I am sure she does it on purpose," said Emily, "only to vex us; and
+there she sits looking down upon us, and crying, 'Oh, pretty Mag!' I
+knew, when she was in the hut, that she was in a wicked humour."
+
+"Let us sit down here a little," said Henry, "and seem not to be
+thinking about her. Let us seem to be looking another way; perhaps she
+will then come near to us of her own accord."
+
+"We will try," replied Emily. And the children seated themselves
+quietly on the thatch; and if they had not been uneasy about the
+magpie, would never have been better pleased with their seats.
+
+But it might seem that Mag did not choose to be thus passed over, and
+not to have her friends busy and troubled about her; for as soon as
+Emily and Henry had planned not to notice her, and to seem to look
+another way, she began to cry in her usual croaking voice, "How do you
+do, sir? Good morning, sir! Oh, pretty Mag! Mag's hungry!"
+
+"What a tiresome bird it is," said Henry, impatiently. And Emily began
+to coax and invite her to come near, holding out her hand as if she had
+something in it.
+
+Mag was not a bit behind in returning Emily's empty compliments, for
+she hopped towards her, and very nearly within reach of her hand, still
+crying, "Good morning! Oh, pretty Mag!"
+
+Emily now thought she had her, and was putting out her arm to catch her
+when the bird turned swiftly round, and hopping up the thatch, took her
+station on the very point of the roof.
+
+Henry lost no time, but, turning on his hands and knees, crept up the
+slope of the roof, and was followed by his sister, who was quite as
+active as himself. They were not long in reaching the place where Mag
+was perched; but, before they could catch hold of her, she had walked
+down very leisurely on the other side, and hopped off into the field.
+Henry was after her, half sliding down the thatch, but Emily more
+wisely chose to go back by the wood-house as she had come, and in a
+very few minutes afterwards they were in the field. Henry had never
+lost sight of his bird since he had found her in the fold-yard; but he
+was none the nearer to catching her.
+
+She waited at a respectful distance till Emily came up; and then,
+between walking and hopping, made her way across the field, and perched
+herself on the upper bar of a gate.
+
+The children were now in serious trouble, because they were not
+suffered, when alone, to go beyond the bounds of the next field.
+
+Beyond the second field was the lane, into which they had followed the
+pig on that unfortunate day in which they had been left under the care
+of John; and if the magpie should go over into this lane, what could
+they do? They did wish to obey their parents this day.
+
+In order, however, to prevent this misfortune, Henry did the very worst
+thing he possibly could; he began to run and cry, "Mag! Mag!" with a
+raised voice, whilst the bird, as if resolved to torment him, hopped
+forward across the other field, perched herself on the stile, and, as
+he drew near, flew right down from thence into the lane.
+
+When Emily came up, there was poor Henry sitting across the stile in
+the greatest possible trouble, being more than half tempted to break
+bounds, and yet feeling that he ought not to do it. And there was Mag,
+walking up and down, pecking and picking, and wagging her tail; and
+now and then looking with one cunning eye towards her little master,
+as much as to say, "Why don't you come after me? Here I am."
+
+It is often by very small things that the strength of our resolutions
+to be good is tested.
+
+Henry was hardly tried, yet strength was given him to resist the
+temptation; and by Emily's persuasion he was induced to wait a little
+before he ventured to go down into the lane. And Mag seemed as well
+content to wait, or rather more so than he was.
+
+The children were in hopes that some one might come by who would help
+them in their distress. And they had not waited a minute before they
+could see two children just coming in sight, at the very farthest point
+where the lane was visible from the stile.
+
+These children were--a very ragged boy, without shoes, stockings, or
+hat, about nine or ten years of age, and a little girl, worse clothed,
+if possible, than himself, for her petticoat was all in fringes,
+showing her little legs above the ankle; they both looked miserably
+thin. Mag waited saucily till these had come nearly opposite the stile,
+and then only stepped aside; whilst Henry, calling to the boy, told him
+his trouble, pointing out the bird to him, and asking his help.
+
+The boy looked towards the bird, and then, turning cheerfully to Henry,
+he said:
+
+"Never fear, master, but I'll catch her for you;" and, dropping the
+hand of the little girl, he pulled off his ragged jacket, and crept
+towards Maggy.
+
+Cunning as the creature was, she did not understand that she had a
+deeper hand to deal with than that of her young master. She therefore
+let the boy come as near to her as she had let Henry do many times
+during the chase, and in this way she gave him the opportunity he was
+seeking of throwing his jacket over her, and seizing her as she lay
+under it.
+
+"He has her!" cried Emily and Henry at once, and the ragged little girl
+set up quite a shriek of joy.
+
+"Yes, I has her," added the boy; "but she pulls desperate hard, and
+would bite me, if she could, through the cloth. Suppose I wraps her in
+it, and carries her home for you, for we must not let her loose again.
+Hark! how she skirls, master and miss!"
+
+Henry and Emily approved of this scheme; the boy kept Maggy in the
+folds of the old jacket, and Emily helped the little girl to get over
+the stile; and the four children walked quickly towards the house. When
+they had crossed the two fields, Emily ran forward to fetch the cage,
+and the boy managed to get Mag into it without getting his fingers bit;
+after which Henry and Emily had leisure to ask the boy who he was, for
+they had never seen him before.
+
+He told them that his name was Edward, and that his little sister was
+called Jane, and that they had no father or mother, but lived with
+their grandmother in a cottage on the common, just by Sir Charles
+Noble's park; and that their grandmother was very bad, and could not
+work, but lay sick in bed; and that they were all half-starved, and he
+was come out to beg--"Miss and Master," added the boy, "for we could
+not starve, nor see granny dying of hunger."
+
+What a sad thing it is that stories of this kind are often told to
+deceive people, and get money out of them on false pretences! But Emily
+and Henry saw how thin and ragged these poor children were, and Emily
+thought of a plan of giving them a supper without taking what they gave
+from her father. So she proposed her scheme to Henry, and he said:
+
+"That will just do; I did not think of it."
+
+Emily then said to the children:
+
+"Sit down here; we will take naughty Mag into the house, and come back
+to you;" and she and Henry were off in a minute. They ran in to Betty,
+and asked her what she had for their supper. Betty was shelling peas in
+the kitchen, and she told them that she was going to cook them for her
+master and mistress; and she said:
+
+"I suppose, Miss Emily, you and your brother will sup with your parents
+to-night."
+
+"But, if you please, we would rather have our supper now," said Emily.
+
+"That we would," cried Henry; "so please, Betty, do give us something
+now."
+
+"Then you must not have a second supper, Master Henry," said Betty, "if
+I give you something to eat now."
+
+"Very well, Betty," replied both children at once; "but we would like
+it now, instead of waiting later for papa and mamma."
+
+So Betty gave each a currant turnover or puff, and a slice of bread and
+some milk.
+
+"May we take our supper out of doors, Betty?" said Emily.
+
+"If you please," replied Betty; and she put the turnovers, as she
+called the puffs, into a little basket, with two large slices of bread
+and two cans of milk, and put the basket into Emily's hands.
+
+"You have made beautiful ears and eyes to the turnovers, Betty," said
+Henry; "I always call them pigs when they are made in that way."
+
+"And they taste much better, don't they, Master Henry?" asked Betty.
+
+"To be sure they do," answered Henry, and away he walked after his
+sister.
+
+So Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little children; and they
+were very much pleased with them, because, when they had eaten part of
+the bread and drunk the milk, they asked leave to take what was left
+home to their grandmother.
+
+[Illustration: "_Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little
+children._"--Page 215.]
+
+Emily fetched them a piece of paper to wrap the puffs in, and then she
+and Henry watched them back into the lane, and afterwards walked
+quietly home, to be ready when their parents and Lucy should come back.
+
+[Illustration: "_The magpie on the stile._"--Page 209.]
+
+
+
+
+The Happy Evening
+
+[Illustration: Preparing the peas for supper]
+
+
+Henry had just finished washing his hands and combing his hair, and
+Emily had only that minute changed her pinafore, when the distant sound
+of the carriage was heard.
+
+Betty was preparing the peas for supper, and John laid the cloth, when
+Henry and Emily ran out upon the lawn.
+
+What a happy moment was that when the carriage stopped at the gate, and
+John opened the door and let down the step, and Lucy jumped out and ran
+to meet Emily and Henry. One would have thought that the children had
+been parted a year instead of a day.
+
+The chaise went on with Mrs. Goodriche, and all the family came into
+the parlour.
+
+"How nice the peas smell!" said Mr. Fairchild; "and I really want my
+supper."
+
+"So do I, papa," said Lucy.
+
+"And so do I," whispered Henry to Emily.
+
+"But you must not say so," returned Emily.
+
+"No, no," said Henry firmly; "I know _that_; we agreed about _that_
+before."
+
+John came in with a very large basket, well packed, out of the chaise;
+Lucy was running to begin to unpack it, when Mr. Fairchild said:
+
+"Let us have our supper first, dear child, and the basket shall be our
+dessert."
+
+"Very well, papa," answered Lucy, "so we will;" and her young heart was
+filled with joy on account of the things that were in it, though she
+did not know of one thing for herself.
+
+John came in with a nice smoking leg of lamb; and he then went out and
+brought some peas and young potatoes, to which he added a hot current
+and raspberry pie. Everybody sat down; Mr. Fairchild said grace, and
+began to help those at the table from the lamb, whilst Mrs. Fairchild
+served the peas. Lucy being helped, Mr. Fairchild said to Emily:
+
+"Are you very hungry, my dear? Shall I give you much or little?"
+
+"None, thank you, papa," was the answer.
+
+"A few peas, my dear, then?" said her mother.
+
+"None, thank you, mamma," replied Emily.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild offered potatoes or tart.
+
+"None, thank you, mamma," was Emily's answer to every offer.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild seemed rather surprised, but was still more so when
+Henry, who was always provided with a good appetite, gave exactly the
+same answers which Emily had done. She supposed, however, that the
+children had supped already, and said:
+
+"What did Betty give you, my dears?"
+
+Emily told her mother, but coloured very much while speaking, and
+there was something their parents thought rather odd in both their
+faces.
+
+"What is it?" said Mr. Fairchild; "there is some little mystery here;
+let us hear it. What has happened? I trust that you have not been
+playing in the sun and made yourselves unwell."
+
+"No, papa," replied Henry, "we are not"--he was going to say hungry,
+but that would not have been true. "We are not--we do not--we do not
+wish for any supper; do we, Emily?"
+
+"What!" said Mr. Fairchild, with a smile, and yet at the same time a
+little alarmed--"what! did you and Emily talk the affair over before,
+and agree together that you would not have any supper with us?"
+
+"We did, papa," replied Henry bravely, "and when the things are taken
+away we will tell you all about it."
+
+"I do beg," said Mr. Fairchild, "that you will tell us all about it,
+even before we begin to eat; for there is your mamma looking anxious;
+Emily looking ready to cry, and Lucy, too, with her. What is this great
+secret?"
+
+"I will tell you, papa," said Henry, getting up, and walking round to
+his father's knee. "I opened the door, papa," he said; "it was not
+Emily's fault, she told me not to do it--and then she came out--and she
+went to the top of the barn, and we went after her--and she chattered
+to us--and then she went, and then we came after her--and then she sat
+on the gate, and went on and came to the stile, talking all the way,
+almost as if she had been making game of us. Did she not, Emily?"
+
+"Really, my dear boy," replied Mr. Fairchild, forcing himself to smile,
+"you must try to make your story plainer, or we shall be more in the
+dark at the end of it than we were at the beginning. All I now
+understand is, that you and Emily climbed over the roof of the barn
+after somebody. Well, and I hope you got no fall in this strange
+exploit?"
+
+"You are not angry, papa?" said Lucy. "Henry has often been on the
+thatch of the barn and never got hurt."
+
+"I did not say I was angry, my dear," replied Mr. Fairchild. "I might
+say that it was neither safe nor prudent for little girls to scramble
+up such places, and I might say, do not try these things again; but if
+no harm was intended, why was I to be angry? But I must hear a more
+straightforward story than Henry has told me; he has not given me the
+name of the person who went chattering before him and Emily; was it a
+fairy, a little spiteful fairy, Emily? Did you let her out of a box, as
+the princess did in the fairytale? And what has all this to do with
+your refusing your suppers? Come, Emily, let us hear your account of
+this affair."
+
+Poor Emily had been sadly put out by all that had passed between Henry
+and her father; and she, therefore, looked very red when she began her
+story. But she got courage as she went on, and told it all, just as it
+is related in the last chapter; only she passed slightly over the
+wilfulness which her brother had shown in opening the cage door. She
+finished by saying, that as they had given away their suppers, they had
+agreed together not to eat another; "and we settled not to tell our
+reasons till the things were taken away."
+
+"Yes, papa," added Henry, "we did."
+
+"And this is all, my Emily?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "I will own that I
+was fearful there was something much amiss;" and she put out her hand
+to her little girl and boy, and having kissed them, she added, "Now, my
+children, sit down and eat."
+
+"And we will all sup together," cried Lucy, with her brightest,
+happiest smile, "and afterwards open the basket."
+
+"And I will do more than give each of you a slice of lamb," said Mr.
+Fairchild. "I am going to-morrow to pay a visit to Mr. Darwell; I have
+put this visit off too long; and I will call on Mr. Burke, Sir Charles
+Noble's steward, and inquire about these poor people. What is the name
+of the old woman, my dears?"
+
+"Edward, papa," cried Henry.
+
+"Edward," said Emily, "is the boy's name, not the old woman's--we did
+not ask her name."
+
+"I thought that was likely," answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling. "Well,
+Henry, I will tell you what must be done--you must be ready at six
+o'clock to-morrow morning, and we will walk, whilst it is cool, to Mr.
+Burke's, and get our breakfast there, and you must help us to find
+these poor people."
+
+"Oh, papa!" said Henry: he could not say another word for joy.
+
+After supper, and when everything but the candles was cleared from the
+table, the basket was set on it, and Mrs. Fairchild began to unpack it.
+First she took out a number of parcels of rice, and sugar, and pepper,
+and mustard, and such things as children do not care to see. These were
+put aside, and then came a smooth long parcel, which she opened; it
+contained a piece of very nice muslin to make Lucy and Emily best
+frocks.
+
+There was no harm in the little girls being very pleased at the sight
+of this; they had been taught to be thankful for every good and useful
+thing provided for them. These, too, were put aside; and next came a
+larger parcel, tied up in a paper with care, and the name of "Lucy,
+from Mrs. Goodriche," written upon it. It was handed to Lucy; she did
+not expect it, and her hands quite shook while she untied the string.
+It contained a beautiful doll, the size of Emily's famous doll; and I
+could not say which of the two little sisters was most delighted. The
+two largest parcels were at the bottom of the basket, and came last;
+one was directed with a pencil by Lucy to Emily, and the other to
+Henry; and when these were opened it was found out that Lucy had spent
+all her own money to make these parcels richer. Each contained a
+beautiful book with many pictures; and in Emily's parcel were a pair of
+scissors for doll's work, and needles and cotton, and lots of bright
+penny ribbon, and a bundle of ends of bright chintz for dolls' frocks.
+They were the very things that would please Emily most, and, as she
+said, would help so nicely to dress Lucy's doll.
+
+Henry, besides his book, had a large rough knife, a ball of string, an
+awl, a little nail-passer, a paper of tacks, and some other little
+things which happened to be just what he wanted most of all things in
+the world, for he was always making things in wood.
+
+Well, that was a happy evening indeed; it had been a happy day, only
+Mag had given some trouble; but, as Emily said, "Even Mag's mischief
+had turned out for some good, because the poor little children had got
+a supper by it."
+
+The next day was almost, if not quite, as pleasant as the day before.
+Henry was out with his father; and Lucy and Emily had all the day given
+to them for dressing the new doll and settling her name; so they called
+her Amelia, after Mrs. Howard.
+
+
+
+
+Breakfast at Mr. Burke's
+
+[Illustration: A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering]
+
+
+We will leave Lucy and Emily making their doll's clothes, and go with
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry.
+
+They were off by six o'clock in the morning for the Park. Sir Charles
+Noble's place was about two miles from Mr. Fairchild's house, but Mr.
+Burke, the steward, lived as much as half a mile nearer, on Mr.
+Fairchild's side, so that Henry had not two miles to walk, for his
+father was to leave him at Mr. Burke's, whilst he went on to pay his
+visit to Mr. Darwell.
+
+The first part of their walk lay along a lane, deeply shaded on one
+side by a very deep dark wood--it was Blackwood.
+
+Henry saw the chimneys of the old house just rising above the trees;
+they were built of brick, and looked as if several of them had been
+twisted round each other, as the threads of thick twine are twisted;
+they looked quite black, and parts of them had fallen.
+
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry next crossed the corner of a common, where they
+saw several huts built of clay, with one brick chimney each, and very
+ragged thatch; and going a little farther, they saw Mr. Burke's house
+before them. It was a large farmhouse, with a square court before it,
+and behind it a quantity of buildings and many ricks. Mr. Burke was the
+steward of the estate, and he was also a farmer, and he was reckoned to
+be a rich man; but he and his wife were very plain sort of people, and
+though they had got up in the world, they carried with them all their
+old-fashioned ways.
+
+They had eight children; the eldest was in his sixteenth year, the
+youngest between two and three. There were four boys and four girls,
+and they had come in turns; first a boy, and then a girl, and so on.
+The three elder boys and the three elder girls went to boarding-schools;
+but it was holiday time, and they were all at home.
+
+There was no sign about the old people themselves of being rich,
+excepting that they had both grown very stout; but they were hearty and
+cheerful.
+
+Mr. Burke spied Mr. Fairchild before he got to the house, and called to
+welcome him over a hedge, saying:
+
+"You have done right to take the cool of the morning; and you and the
+little gentleman there, I dare say, are ready for your breakfasts. Go
+on, Mr. Fairchild, and I will be with you before you get to the house."
+
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry crossed the fold-yard, and coming into the
+yard, which was surrounded by a low wall, with a paling at the top of
+it, they saw Mrs. Burke standing on the kitchen steps, and feeding an
+immense quantity of poultry of all sorts and kinds. She called to
+welcome her visitors; but though she spoke in a high key, it was
+impossible to hear a word she said for the noise made by the geese,
+ducks, hens, turkeys, and guinea-fowl--all crowding forward for their
+food. Besides which, there was a huge dog, chained to a kennel, which
+set up a tremendous barking; and, before he could be stopped, was
+joined by other dogs of divers sorts and sizes, which came running into
+the yard, setting up their throats all in different keys. They did not,
+however, attempt to do more than bark and yelp at Henry and his father.
+
+"Come in, come in, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Burke, when they could get
+near to her through the crowd of living things; "come in, the tea is
+brewing; and you must be very thirsty." And she took up an end of her
+white apron and wiped her brow, remarking that it was wonderful fine
+weather for the corn.
+
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry followed Mrs. Burke through an immense kitchen
+into a parlour beyond, which was nothing in size compared to the
+kitchen; and there was a long table set out for breakfast.
+
+The table was covered with good things; a large pasty, which had been
+cut; a ham, from which many a good slice had already been taken; a pot
+of jam, another of honey; brown and white loaves; cream and butter and
+fruit; and the tea, too, was brewing, and smelt deliciously.
+
+Mr. Burke followed them in almost immediately, and shook Mr. Fairchild
+by the hand; complimenting Henry by laying his large rough hand on his
+head, and saying:
+
+"You are ready for your breakfast, I doubt not, little master;" adding,
+"Come, mistress, tap your barrel. But where are the youngsters?" He had
+hardly spoken, when a tall girl, very smartly dressed, though with her
+hair in papers, looked in at the door, and ran off again when she saw
+Mr. Fairchild.
+
+Her father called after her:
+
+"Judy, I say, why don't you come in?" But Miss Judy was gone to take
+the papers out of her hair.
+
+The next who appeared was little Miss Jane, the mother's pet, because
+she was the youngest. She came squalling in to tell her mother that
+Dick had scratched her, though she could not show the scratch; and
+there was no peace until she was set on a high chair by her mother, and
+supplied with a piece of sugared bread-and-butter.
+
+A great sturdy boy in petticoats, of about four years old, followed
+little Miss Jane, roaring and blubbering because Jane had pinched him
+in return for the scratch; but Mrs. Burke managed to settle him also
+with a piece of ham, which he ate without bread--fat and all. Dicky was
+presently followed into the room by the three elder boys, James,
+William, and Tom. Being admonished by their father, they gave Mr.
+Fairchild something between a bow and a nod. James's compliment might
+have been called a bow; William's was half one and half the other; and
+Tom's was nothing more than a nod. These boys were soon seated, and
+began to fill their plates from every dish near to them.
+
+Mrs. Burke asked James if he knew where his sisters were; and Tom
+answered:
+
+"Why, at the glass to be sure, taking the papers out of their hair."
+
+"What's that you say, Tom?" was heard at that instant from someone
+coming into the parlour. It was Miss Judy, and she was followed by Miss
+Mary and Miss Elizabeth.
+
+These three paid their compliments to Mr. Fairchild somewhat more
+properly than their brothers had done; and in a very few minutes all
+the family were seated, and all the young ones engaged with their
+breakfasts.
+
+It was Mr. Fairchild's custom always, when he had business to do, to
+take the first opportunity of forwarding it: so he did not lose this
+opportunity, but told his reasons for begging a breakfast that morning
+from Mrs. Burke.
+
+Mr. Burke entered kindly into what his neighbour said, and had no
+difficulty, though the surname was not known, in finding out who the
+grandmother of Edward and Jane was.
+
+He told Mr. Fairchild that she bore a good character--had suffered many
+afflictions--and, if she were ill, must be in great need. It was then
+settled that as he was going in his little gig that morning to the
+park, Mr. Fairchild should go with him; that they should go round over
+the common to see the old woman, who did not live very near to the
+farm, and that Henry should be left under Mrs. Burke's care, as the gig
+would only carry two persons.
+
+When Mr. Burke said the gig would only hold two, James looked up from
+his plate, and said:
+
+"I only wish that it would break down the very first time you and
+mother get into it."
+
+"Thank you, Jem, for your good wishes," said Mr. Burke.
+
+"For shame, Jem!" cried Miss Judy.
+
+"I don't mean that I wish you and mother to be hurt," answered the
+youth; "but the gig is not fit for such a one as you to go in. I
+declare I am ashamed of it every time you come in sight of our
+playground in it; the boys have so much to say about it."
+
+"Well, well, Jem!" said Miss Judy.
+
+"Well, well, Jem!" repeated the youth; "it is always 'Well, well!' or
+'Oh fie, Jem!' but you know, Judy, that you told me that your governess
+herself said that father ought to have a new carriage."
+
+"I don't deny that, Jem," said Judy; "Miss Killigrew knows that father
+could afford a genteel carriage, and she thinks that he ought to get
+one for the respectability of the family."
+
+"Who cares what Miss Killigrew thinks?" asked Tom.
+
+"I do," replied Judy; "Miss Killigrew is a very genteel, elegant
+woman, and knows what's proper; and, as she says, has the good of the
+family at heart."
+
+"Nonsense!" replied James; "the good of the family! you mean her own
+good, and her own respectability. She would like to see a fine carriage
+at her door, to make her look genteel; how can you be bamboozled with
+such stuff, Judy?"
+
+Mr. Burke seemed to sit uneasily whilst his children were going on in
+this way. He was thinking how all this would appear before Mr.
+Fairchild--that is, he was listening for the moment with Mr.
+Fairchild's ears.
+
+When we keep low company we are apt to listen with their ears; and when
+we get into good company we do the same: we think how this will sound,
+and that will sound to them, and we are shocked for them, at things
+which at another time we should not heed; this is one way in which we
+are hurt by bad company, and improved by good.
+
+Mr. Burke had never thought his children so ill-bred as when he heard
+them, that morning, with Mr. Fairchild's ears; and as he was afraid of
+making things worse by checking them, he invited him to walk out with
+him, after he saw that he had done his breakfast, to look at a famous
+field of corn near the house.
+
+When this had been visited the gig was ready, and they set out, leaving
+Henry at the farm; and it was very good for Henry to be left, for he
+had an opportunity of seeing more that morning than he had ever yet
+seen of the sad effects of young people being left to take their own
+way.
+
+
+
+
+The Unruly Family
+
+[Illustration: They had a game at marbles]
+
+
+After Mr. Fairchild was gone out with Mr. Burke, the young people, who
+still sat round the table, all began to speak and make a noise at once.
+The two youngest were crying for sugar, or ham, or more butter. Tom was
+screaming every moment, "I am going to the river a-fishing--who comes
+with me?" looking at the same time daringly at his mother, and
+expecting her to say, "No, Tom; you know _that_ is forbidden;" for the
+river was very dangerous for anglers, and Mr. Burke had given his
+orders that his boys should never go down to it unless he was with
+them.
+
+James and Judy were squabbling sharply and loudly about Miss Killigrew
+and her gentility; William, in a quieter way, and with a quiet face,
+was, from time to time, giving his sister Mary's hair a violent pull,
+causing her to scream and look about her for her tormenter each time;
+and Elizabeth was balancing a spoon on the edge of her cup, and letting
+it fall with a clatter every moment. Children never mind
+noise--indeed, they rather like it; and, if the truth must be told,
+Henry was beginning to think that it would not be unpleasant if his
+father would let him and his sisters have their own ways, as these
+children of Mr. Burke seemed to have, at least on holidays and after
+lesson hours.
+
+When Miss Jane's mouth was well filled with jam, and Dick's with fat
+meat, Tom's voice was heard above the rest; he was still crying, "I am
+going a-fishing; who will come with me?" his large eyes being fixed on
+his mother, as if to provoke her to speak.
+
+"You are not going to do any such thing, Tom," she at length said; "I
+shall not allow it."
+
+Tom looked as if he would have said, "How can you help it, mother?" but
+he had not time to say it, had he wished; for Miss Judy, who had a
+great notion of managing her brothers, took him up, and said:
+
+"I wonder at you, Tom. How often have you been told that you are not to
+go down to fish in the river?"
+
+"Pray, miss, who made you my governess? If it's only to vex you, I will
+go to the river--if I don't fish I will bathe. Will that please you
+better?"
+
+Henry Fairchild could not make out exactly what was said next, because
+three or four people spoke at once in answer to Tom's last words, and
+as all of them spoke as loud as they could in order to be heard, as
+always happens in these cases, no two words could be made out clearly.
+But Henry perceived that Tom gave word for word to his sisters, and
+was, as he would himself have said, "quite even with them." After a
+little while, James, at the whisper of his mother, cried, "Nonsense,
+nonsense! no more of this;" and taking Tom by the arm, lugged him out
+of the room by main force; whilst the youngster struggled and tugged
+and caught at everything as he was forced along, the noise continuing
+till the two brothers were fairly out of the house.
+
+[Illustration: "_The noise continued till the two brothers were fairly
+out of the house._"--Page 230.]
+
+Mrs. Burke then turned to Henry; and thinking, perhaps, that some
+excuse for her boy's behaviour was necessary, she said:
+
+"It is all play, Master Fairchild. Tom is a good boy, but he loves a
+little harmless mischief; he has no more notion of going down to the
+river than I have."
+
+"La, mother," said Miss Judy, "that is what you always say, though you
+know the contrary; Tom is the very rudest boy in the whole country, and
+known to be so."
+
+"Come with me, Master Fairchild," said William, in a low voice to
+Henry, "come with me. Now Judy is got on her hobby-horse, she will take
+a long ride."
+
+"What is my hobby-horse, Master William?" said Judy sharply.
+
+"Abusing your brothers, Miss Judy," replied William.
+
+She set up her lip and turned away, as if she did not think it worth
+while to answer him, for he was younger than herself; but the next
+sister took up the battle, and said something so sharp and tart, that
+even William, the quietest of the family, gave her a very rude and
+cutting answer. Henry did not understand what he said, but he was not
+sorry when Mrs. Burke told him that he had better go out with William
+and see what was to be seen.
+
+William led Henry right through the kitchen and court into the
+fold-yard: it was a very large yard, surrounded on three sides by
+buildings, stables, and store-houses, and cattle-sheds and stalls. In
+the midst of it was a quantity of manure, all wet and sloppy, and upon
+the very top of this heap stood that charming boy, Master Tom, with his
+shoes and stockings all covered with mire.
+
+On one side of the yard stood James, talking to a boy in a labourer's
+frock. These last were very busy with their own talk, and paid no
+heed to Tom, who kept calling to them.
+
+"You said," he cried, "that I could not get here--and here I am, do you
+see, safe and sound?"
+
+"And I do not care how long you stay there," at length answered the
+eldest brother; "we should be free from one plague for the time at
+least."
+
+"That time, then, shall not be long," answered Tom, "for I am coming."
+
+"Stop him! stop him!" cried James. "Here, Will--and you, Hodge,"
+speaking to the young carter, "have at him, he shan't come out so soon
+as he wishes;" and giving a whoop and a shout, the three boys, James,
+William, and Hodge, set to to drive Tom back again whenever he
+attempted to get out of the heap of mire upon the dry ground.
+
+There were three against one, and Tom had the disadvantage of very
+slippery footing, so that he was constantly driven back at every
+attempt, and so very roughly too, that he was thrown down more than
+once; but he fell on soft ground, and got no harm beyond being covered
+with mire from head to foot.
+
+The whole yard rang with the shouts and screams of the boys; and this
+might have lasted much longer if an old labouring servant had not come
+into the yard, and insisted that there was enough of it, driving Hodge
+away, and crying shame on his young masters. When Tom was let loose, he
+walked away into the house, as Henry supposed, to get himself washed;
+and James and William, being very hot, called Henry to go with them
+across the field into the barn, in one corner of which they had a
+litter of puppies. They were a long time in this barn, for after they
+had looked at the puppies they had a game at marbles, and Henry was
+much amused.
+
+William Burke was generally the quietest of the family, and almost all
+strangers liked him best; but he had his particular tempers, and as
+those tempers were never kept under by his parents, when they broke out
+they were very bad. James did something in the game which he did not
+think fair, so he got up from the ground where they were sitting or
+kneeling to play, kicked the marbles from him, told his brother that he
+was cheating, in so many plain words, and was walking quietly away,
+when James followed him, and seized his arm to pull him back.
+
+William resisted, and then the brothers began to wrestle; and from
+wrestling half playfully, they went on to wrestle in earnest. One gave
+the other a chance blow, and the other returned an intended one, and
+then they fought in good earnest, and did not stop till William had got
+a bloody nose; and perhaps they might not have stopped then, if Henry
+Fairchild had not begun to cry, running in between them, and begging
+them not to hurt each other any more.
+
+"Poor child!" cried James, as he drew back from William, "don't you
+know that we were only in play? Did you never see two boys playing
+before?"
+
+"Not in that way," replied Henry.
+
+"That is because you have no brother," answered James. "It is a sad
+thing for a boy not to have a brother."
+
+They all then left the barn, and William went to wash his nose at the
+pump.
+
+Whilst he was doing this, James turned over an empty trough which lay
+in the shade of one of the buildings in the fold-yard, and he and Henry
+sat down upon it; William soon came down to them. He had washed away
+the blood, and he looked so sulky, that anyone might have seen that he
+would have opened out the quarrel again with James had not Henry
+Fairchild been present; for, though he did not care for the little boy,
+yet he did not wish that he should give him a bad name to his father.
+
+Henry Fairchild was learning the best lesson he had ever had in his
+life amongst the unruly children of Mr. Burke; but this lesson was not
+to be learned only by his ears and eyes; it would not have been enough
+for him to have seen Tom soused in the mire, or William with his bloody
+nose; his very bones were to suffer in the acquirement of it, and he
+was to get such a fright as he had never known before.
+
+But before the second part of his adventures that morning is related,
+it will be as well to say, in this place, that Mr. Fairchild was taken
+first by Mr. Burke to the poor widow's cottage, where he found her
+almost crippled with rheumatism. She had parted with much of her
+furniture and clothes to feed the poor children, but was gentle and did
+not complain.
+
+From the cottage Mr. Burke drove Mr. Fairchild to the park, and there
+Mr. Fairchild had an opportunity of speaking of the poor grandmother
+and the little children to Mr. and Mrs. Darwell.
+
+Mr. Darwell said that if the cottage required repair, Mr. Burke must
+look after it, and then speak to him, as the affair was not his, as he
+was only Sir Charles Noble's tenant.
+
+Mrs. Darwell seemed to Mr. Fairchild to be a very fine lady, and one
+who did not trouble herself about the concerns of the poor; but there
+was one in the room who heard every word which Mr. Fairchild said, and
+heard it attentively.
+
+This was little Miss Darwell. She was seated on a sofa, with a piece of
+delicate work in her hand; she was dressed in the most costly manner,
+and she looked as fair and almost as quiet as a waxen doll.
+
+Who can guess what was going on in her mind whilst she was listening to
+the history of the poor grandmother and her little ones?
+
+Miss Darwell, in one way, was as much indulged as Mr. Burke's children,
+but of course she was not allowed to be rude and vulgar; therefore, if
+her manners were better than those of the little Burkes, it was only
+what might be expected; but, happily for her, she had been provided
+with a truly pious and otherwise a very excellent governess, a widow
+lady, of the name of Colvin; but Mrs. Colvin seldom appeared in the
+drawing-room.
+
+Mr. Darwell was proud of his little girl; he thought her very pretty
+and very elegant, and he wanted to show her off before Mr. Fairchild,
+who he knew had some little girls of his own; so before Mr. Fairchild
+took leave, he called her to him, and said:
+
+"Ellen, my dear, speak to this gentleman, and tell him that you should
+be glad to see his daughters, the Misses Fairchild; they are about your
+age, and, as I am told, are such ladies as would please you to be
+acquainted with."
+
+The little lady rose immediately, and came forward; she gave her hand
+to Mr. Fairchild, and turning to her father:
+
+"May I," she said, "ask the Misses Fairchild to come to my feast upon
+my birthday?"
+
+"You may, my love," was the answer.
+
+"Then I will write a note," she said; and Mr. Fairchild saw that the
+pretty waxen doll could sparkle and blush, and look as happy as his own
+children often did.
+
+She ran out of the room, and a minute afterwards came back with a neat
+little packet in her hand. There was more in it than a note, but she
+asked Mr. Fairchild to put it into his pocket, and not look at it.
+
+Mr. Fairchild smiled and thanked her, and at that very moment other
+morning visitors were brought in, and took up the attention of Mr. and
+Mrs. Darwell.
+
+Mr. Fairchild was rising, when the little girl, bending forward to him,
+said in a low voice:
+
+"I heard what you said, sir, about those poor little children, and I
+will try to help them."
+
+How pleasant was it to Mr. Fairchild to hear those words from that fair
+little lady! And he came away quite delighted with her, and pleased
+with Mr. Darwell.
+
+He found Mr. Burke in his gig at the gates, with the horse's head
+turned towards home.
+
+As they were driving back, Mr. Fairchild spoke of Miss Darwell, and
+said how very much he had been pleased with her.
+
+Mr. Burke said that "she was a wonder of a child, considering how she
+was indulged, and that she seemed to have no greater pleasure than in
+doing good to the poor, especially to the children." They then talked
+of the old woman.
+
+Mr. Burke said he would, on his own responsibility, have the cottage
+put to rights. "It should have been done before," he added. "And I will
+see that she receives some help from the parish for the children; she
+has had a little for herself all along. And my wife shall send her some
+soup, and, may be, I could find something for Edward to do, if it be
+but to frighten away the birds from the crops; so let that matter
+trouble you no more, Mr. Fairchild."
+
+
+
+
+Story of Henry's Adventure
+
+[Illustration: Kind Mrs. Burke gave him a piece of bread and honey]
+
+
+Henry Fairchild sat with William and James Burke for some time under
+the shade of the building, and had the pleasure of hearing the two
+brothers sparring on each side of him, though they did not come to
+blows again. Whatever one said the other contradicted; if one said such
+a thing _is_, the other said, "I am sure it is _not_;" or, "There you
+go--that's just you." "Nonsense" was a favourite word of James's.
+"Nonsense, Will," was his constant answer to everything his brother
+proposed; and they used many words which Henry did not understand.
+
+All this time Tom did not appear, and his brothers did not seem to
+think about him.
+
+After a while William said:
+
+"Let us go into the cornfield, and see what the men are about; this
+yard is very dull."
+
+"No," said James, "let us show Master Fairchild the young bull."
+
+"No! no!" cried Henry, "I do not want to see it."
+
+Both the boys laughed outright at Henry's cry of "I do not want to see
+it;" and then they assured him that the creature was well tied up--he
+was in the cattle stall, just opposite to them, and could not hurt
+them; and they laughed again till Henry was ashamed, and said that he
+would go with them to look at him.
+
+The cattle stall was a long, low, and narrow building, which ran one
+whole side of the yard. At some seasons it was filled with cattle, each
+one having a separate stall, and being tied in it, but at this time
+there was no creature in it but this bull.
+
+Now it must be told that, whilst the boys were in the barn, and just
+about the time in which James and William had been scuffling with each
+other and making much noise, Tom, who had not yet taken the trouble to
+wash himself, had got to the top of the cattle shed, and had been
+amusing himself by provoking the bull through an air-hole in the roof.
+
+First he had thrown down on his head a quantity of house-leek which
+grew on the tiles, and then he had poked at him with a stick till the
+creature got furious and began to beat about him, and at length to set
+up a terrible bellowing.
+
+Tom knew well that he should get into trouble if it was found out that
+he had been provoking the creature; so down he slipped, and was off in
+another direction in a few minutes.
+
+The labourers were all in the field, and Henry and his companions were
+in the barn, so that no one heard distinctly the bellowing of the bull
+but the girl in the dairy, and she had been too long accustomed to the
+noises of a farm to give it a second thought. The animal, however, was
+so furious that he broke his fastenings, snapping the ropes, and coming
+out of the stall, and even trying to force the door of the shed; but
+in this he failed, as there was a wooden bar across it on the outside.
+After a little while he ceased to bellow, so no one was aware of the
+mischief which had been done, and no one suspected that the bull was
+loose.
+
+James walked first to the door of the cattle shed, William came next,
+and afterwards Henry.
+
+James did not find it easy to move the bar, so he called William to
+help him. The reason why it was hard to move was, that the head of the
+bull was against the door, and he was pressing it on the bar; the
+moment the bar was removed, the bull's head forced open the door, and
+there stood the sullen frowning creature in the very face of poor
+Henry, with nothing between them but a few yards of the court. The
+other two boys were, by the sudden opening of the door, forced behind
+it, so that the bull only saw Henry; but Henry did not stay to look at
+his fiery eyes, or to observe the temper in which he lowered his
+terrible head to the ground and came forward.
+
+"Run, run for your life!" cried William and James, from behind the
+door; and Henry did run, and the bull after him, bellowing and tearing
+up the ground before him; and he came on fast, but Henry had got the
+start of a few yards, and that start saved his life. Still he ran, the
+bull following after. Henry had not waited to consider which way he
+ran. He had taken his way in the direction of a lane which ran out of
+the yard; the gate was open--he flew through--the terrible beast was
+after him--he could hear his steps and his deep snortings and puffings;
+in another minute he would have reached Henry, and would probably have
+gored him to death, when all at once every dog about the farm, first
+called and then urged on by William and James, came barking and yelping
+in full cry on the heels of the bull.
+
+The leader of these was a bulldog of the true breed, and though young,
+had all his teeth in their full strength. Behind him came dogs of every
+kind which is common in this country, and if they could do little else,
+they could bay and yelp, and thus puzzle and perplex the bull.
+
+James and William, each with a stick in their hands, were behind them,
+urging them on, calling for help, and putting themselves to great
+danger for the sake of Henry. Tom was not there to see the mischief he
+had wrought.
+
+Another moment, and the bull would have been up with Henry, when he
+found himself bitten in the flank by the sharp fangs of Fury meeting in
+his flesh. The animal instantly turned upon the dog; most horribly did
+he bellow, and poor Henry then indeed felt that his last moment was
+come.
+
+The noises were becoming more dreadful every instant; the men came
+running from the fields, pouring into the lane from all sides: the
+women and girls from the house were shrieking over the low wall from
+the bottom of the court, so that the noise might be heard a mile
+distant.
+
+Henry Fairchild never looked back, but ran on as fast as he possibly
+could, till, after a little while, seeing a stile on his left hand, he
+sprang up to it, tumbled over in his haste, fell headlong on the
+new-shorn grass, and would have gotten no hurt whatever, had not his
+nose and his upper lip made too free with a good-sized stone. Henry's
+nose and lip being softer than the stone, they of course had the worst
+of it in the encounter.
+
+A very few minutes afterwards, but before the labourers had got the
+bull back into its place, which was no easy matter, one of the men,
+running from a distant field towards the noise, found poor Henry, took
+him up far more easily than he would have taken up a bag of meal, and
+carried him, all bloody as he was, to the mistress, by a short cut
+through the garden.
+
+Henry's nose had bled, and was still bleeding, when the man brought him
+to the house; but no one even thought of him till the fierce bull was
+safe within four walls. But it had been a dangerous affair, as the men
+said, "to get _that_ job done;" nor was it done till both Fury and the
+bull were covered with foam and blood.
+
+When everything was quiet in and about the yard, Mrs. Burke began to
+look up, not only her own children, but all the careless young people
+about.
+
+"Where is Tom?" was the mother's first cry. Dick and Jane had made her
+know that they were not far off, by the noise they were both making.
+
+"Tom is quite safe," replied someone.
+
+"And Master Fairchild?" said Mrs. Burke.
+
+Every one then ran different ways to look for Henry, and when he was
+found, all covered in blood, in the kitchen, Mrs. Burke was, as she
+said, ready to faint away. Everybody, however, was glad when they found
+no harm was done to the child, beyond a bloody nose and a lip swelled
+to a monstrous size. Kind Mrs. Burke herself took him up to her boys'
+room, where she washed him and made him dress himself in a complete
+suit of Tom's, engaging to get his own things washed and cleaned for
+him in a few hours.
+
+She then brought him down into the parlour, set him on the sofa, gave
+him a piece of bread and honey, and begged him not to stir from thence
+till his father returned; nor had Henry any wish to disobey her.
+
+Henry was hardly seated on the couch with his bread and honey in his
+hand, when first one and then another of the children came in: the last
+who came was James, lugging in Tom.
+
+Now, it is very certain that Tom stood even in more need of a scouring
+and clean clothes than Henry had done; for he had not used water nor
+changed his clothes since he had been rolled by his brothers in the mud
+in the yard. This mud had dried upon him, and no one who did not expect
+to see him could possibly have known him. He was lugged by main force
+into the parlour, though he kicked and struggled, and held on upon
+everything within his reach. He came in as he had gone out; but when he
+was fairly in, he became quite still, and stood sulking.
+
+"I'll tell you what, mother," said James, "you may thank Tom for all
+the mischief--and he knows it."
+
+"Knows what?"
+
+"That it was through him the bull got loose, and that poor Fury is
+nearly killed."
+
+"I am sure it was not," answered Tom.
+
+"I say it was," replied James; and then all the brothers and sisters
+began to speak at once.
+
+_Judy._ "Just like you, Tom."
+
+_Mary._ "And see what a condition he is in."
+
+_William._ "You know Hodge saw you, Tom, on the top of the shed."
+
+_Tom._ "I am sure he did not."
+
+_Elizabeth._ "What a dirty creature you are, Tom; and how you smell of
+the stable!"
+
+_Jane._ "Mother! mother! I want some bread and honey, like Master
+Fairchild."
+
+_Dick._ "I want a sop in the pan, mother--mayn't I have a sop?"
+
+In the midst of all this noise and confusion, in walked Mr. Fairchild
+and Mr. Burke. The men in the yard had told them of what had happened;
+and it had been made plain to Mr. Burke that Tom had been at the bottom
+of the mischief.
+
+Mr. Fairchild hastened in all anxiety to his poor boy; and was full of
+thankfulness to God for having saved him from the dreadful danger which
+had threatened him; and Mr. Burke began to speak to his son Tom with
+more severity than he often used. He even called for a cane, and said
+he would give it him soundly, and at that minute too; but Mrs. Burke
+stepped in and begged him off; and as she stood between him and his
+father he slunk away, and kept out of his sight as long as Henry and
+Mr. Fairchild stayed.
+
+If Tom never came within sight of his father all the rest of that day,
+Henry never once went out of the reach of his father's eye.
+
+After dinner and tea, Henry was again dressed in his own clothes, which
+Mrs. Burke had got washed and cleaned for him, and in the cool of the
+evening he walked quietly home with his father.
+
+"Oh, papa!" said Henry, when they came again under the shade of
+Blackwood, "I do not now wish to have my own way, as I did this
+morning, I am now quite sure that it does not make people happy to have
+it."
+
+"Then, my boy," replied Mr. Fairchild, "you have learned a very good
+lesson to-day, and I trust that you will never forget it."
+
+
+
+
+The Story in Emily's Book. Part I.
+
+[Illustration: Lucy and Emily had now each a doll]
+
+
+The little books brought by Lucy were not even looked at until the
+evening came which was to be given up to reading the first of them.
+Henry had begged that his book might be read last, because he said that
+he should be sure to like it best; so Emily's was to afford the
+amusement for the first evening.
+
+Mr. Fairchild gave notice in the morning of his being able to give up
+that evening to this pleasure; not that he wished to hear the story,
+but that he meant to be of the party, and the root-house in the wood
+was the place chosen.
+
+Lucy and Emily had now each a doll to take, and there was some bustle
+to get them ready after lessons.
+
+Henry took his knife and some little bits of wood to cut and carve
+whilst the reading was going on; Mrs. Fairchild took her needlework;
+and there was a basket containing nice white cakes of bread made for
+the purpose, a little fruit, a bottle of milk, and a cup. The little
+ones, by turns, were to carry this basket between them. Mr. Fairchild
+took a book to please himself; and at four o'clock they set out.
+
+When they all got to the hut they were soon all settled. There were
+seats in the hut; Henry took the lowest of them. Mrs. Fairchild took
+out her work; Mr. Fairchild stretched himself on the grass, within
+sight of his family. Emily and Lucy were to read by turns, and Lucy was
+to begin. She laid her pretty doll across her lap, and thus she began:
+
+
+The Story in Emily's Book
+
+"On the borders of Switzerland, towards the north, is a range of hills,
+of various heights, called the Hartsfells, or, in English, the Hills of
+the Deer. These hills are not very high for that country, though in
+England they would be called mountains. In winter they were indeed
+covered with snow, but in summer all this snow disappeared, being
+gradually melted, and coming down in beautiful cascades from the
+heights into the valleys, and so passing away to one or other of the
+many lakes which were in the neighbourhood.
+
+"The tops of some of the Hartsfells were crowned with ragged rocks,
+which looked, at a distance, like old towers and walls and battlements;
+and the sides of these more rocky hills were steep and stony and
+difficult. Others of these hills sloped gently towards the plain below,
+and were covered with a fine green sward in the summer--so fine and
+soft, indeed, that the little children from the villages in the valleys
+used to climb up to them in order to have the pleasure of rolling down
+them.
+
+"These greener hills were also adorned with large and beautiful trees
+under which the shepherds sat when they drove their flocks up on the
+mountain pastures, called in that country the Alps, to fatten on the
+short fine grass and sweet herbs, which grew there in the summer-time.
+
+"Then the flowers--who can count the numbers and varieties of the
+flowers which grew on those hills, and which budded and bloomed through
+all the lovely months of spring, of summer, and of autumn? Sometimes
+the shepherds, as they sat in the shade watching their sheep, would
+play sweet tunes on their pipes and flutes, for a shepherd who could
+not use a flute was thought little of in those hills. It was sweet to
+hear those pipes and flutes from a little distance, when all was quiet
+among the hills, excepting the ever restless and ever dancing waters.
+There were many villages among the hills, each village having a valley
+to itself; but there is only one of these of which this story speaks.
+
+"It was called Hartsberg, or the Town of the Deer, and was situated in
+one of the fairest valleys of the Hartsfells. The valley was accounted
+to be the fairest, because there was the finest cascade belonging to
+those hills rushing and roaring at the very farthest point of the
+valley; and the groves, too, on each side of the valley were very grand
+and old.
+
+"The village itself was built in the Swiss fashion, chiefly of wood,
+with roofs of wooden tiles, called shingles; and many of them had
+covered galleries round the first floor. The only house much better
+than the others was the Protestant pastor's, though this was not much
+more than a large cottage, but it stood in a very neat garden.
+
+"There were a few, but a very few, houses separate from this village
+itself, built on the sides of the hills; and those belonged to
+peasants, or small farmers.
+
+"In the summer-time strangers sometimes came from a distance to look
+at the famous waterfall, and to gather such scarce flowers as they
+could find on the hills. It was a good thing for Heister Kamp, the
+widow who kept the little inn in the village, when these strangers
+came, for it not only put money into her pocket, but gave her something
+to talk of. She was the greatest gossip in the valley, and, like all
+gossips, the most curious person also, for nothing could pass but she
+must meddle and make with it; and it was very seldom that things were
+the better for her meddling.
+
+"Most of the inhabitants of the village were Protestants, but there
+were a few Roman Catholics, and these had a priest, an elderly man, who
+was a great friend of Heister Kamp, and might often be seen in her
+kitchen, talking over with her the affairs of the village. He was
+called Father St. Goar, and he had a small chapel, and a little bit of
+a house attached to it. His chapel was less than the Protestant church,
+but it looked far more grand within, for there was an altar dressed
+with artificial flowers, and burnished brass candlesticks, and over it
+waxen figures of the Virgin Mary and her Child, in very gaudy though
+tarnished dresses.
+
+"And now, having described the place, and some of the people, there is
+nothing to hinder the story from going on to something more amusing.
+
+"On the right hand of the great waterfall, and perched high on the
+hill, was an old house standing in a very lovely and fruitful garden;
+the garden faced the south, and was sheltered from the north and east
+winds by a grove of ancient trees.
+
+"The garden abounded with fruit and flowers and vegetables, and there
+were also many bee-hives; behind the house were several sheds and other
+buildings, and a pen for sheep.
+
+"This house was the property of a family which had resided there longer
+than the history of the village could tell. The name was Stolberg, and
+the family, though they had never been rich, had never sought help from
+others, and were highly respected by all who knew them.
+
+"At the time of this history the household consisted of the venerable
+mother, Monique Stolberg, her son Martin, a widower, and the three
+children of Martin; Ella, Jacques, and Margot.
+
+"Ella was not yet fourteen; she was a tall girl of her age, and had
+been brought up with the greatest care by her grandmother, though made
+to put her hand to everything required in her station. Ella was spoken
+of as the best-behaved, most modest, and altogether the finest and
+fairest of all the girls in the valley.
+
+"Heister Kamp said that she was as proud and lofty as the eagle of the
+hills. But Ella was not proud; she was only modest and retiring, and
+said little to strangers.
+
+"Jacques was some years younger than Ella; he loved his parents and
+sisters, and would do anything for them in his power; but he was hot
+and hasty, especially to those he did not love.
+
+"Margot was still a little plump, smiling, chattering, child, almost a
+baby in her ways; but everyone loved her, for she was as a pet lamb,
+under the eye of the shepherd.
+
+"Monique had received her, before she could walk, from her dying
+mother, and she had reared her with the tenderest care.
+
+"As to Martin, more need not be said of him but that the wish to please
+God was ever present with him. He had been the best of sons; and, when
+his wife died, he was rewarded for his filial piety by the care which
+his mother took of his children and his house.
+
+"Monique had had one other child besides Martin; a daughter, who had
+married and gone over the hills with her husband into France; but her
+marriage had proved unfortunate. She had resided at Vienne, in the
+south of France, and there she had left one child, Meeta, a girl of
+about the age of Ella.
+
+"When Martin heard of the death of his sister, and the forlorn state of
+the orphan, he set himself to go to Vienne; it was winter-time, and he
+rode to the place on a little mountain pony which he had; but he walked
+back nearly the whole way, having set Meeta, with her bundle, on the
+horse.
+
+"Everyone at home was pleased with Meeta when she arrived, though
+Monique secretly wondered how she could be so merry when her parents
+were hardly cold in their graves. Meeta was not, however, cold-hearted,
+but she was thoughtless, and she enjoyed the change of scene, and was
+pleased with her newly-known relations and their manner of life.
+
+"Little plump baby-like Margot was scarcely less formed in her mind
+than Meeta, though Meeta was as old as Ella: and of the two, Margot, as
+will be seen by-and-by, was more to be depended on than Meeta. Margot,
+when duly admonished on any point, could be prudent, but Meeta could
+not; yet Meeta was so merry, so obliging, and so good-humoured, that
+everyone in the cottage soon learned to love her; though some of them,
+and especially Monique, saw very clearly that there was much to be done
+to improve her and render her a steady character.
+
+"She was quick, active, and ready to put her hand to assist in
+anything; but she had no perseverance; she got tired of every job
+before it was half done, and she could do nothing without talking about
+it. As to religious principles and religious feelings, her grandmother
+could not find out that she had any. She was so giddy that she could
+give no account of what she had been taught, though Monique gathered
+from her that her poor mother had said much to her upon religious
+subjects during her last short illness. The snow was still thick upon
+the hills when Martin Stolberg brought Meeta to Hartsberg; so that the
+young people were quite well acquainted with each other before the
+gentle breezes of spring began to loosen the bands of the frost, and
+dissolve the icicles which hung from the rocks on the sides of the
+waterfall.
+
+"During that time poor Martin Stolberg was much tried by several heavy
+losses amongst his live stock: a fine cow and several sheep died, and
+when the poor man had replaced these, he said, with a sigh to his
+mother, that he must deny himself and his children everything which
+possibly could be spared, till better days came round again.
+
+"His mother answered, with her usual quiet cheerfulness:
+
+"'So be it, my son, and I doubt not but that all is right, for if
+everything went smooth in this world we should be apt to forget that we
+are strangers and pilgrims here, and that this is not our home.'
+
+"When Monique told Ella what her father had said, the young girl got
+leave to go down to the village, and, when there, she went to Madame
+Eversil, the pastor's lady, and having told her of her father's
+difficulties, she asked her if she could point out any means by which
+she might get a little money to help in these difficulties.
+
+"Monsieur Eversil, though a very simple man, was not so poor as many
+Swiss pastors are. He had no children, and his lady had had money.
+Madame wished to assist Ella, whom she much loved; but she rather
+hesitated before she said to her:
+
+"'I have been accustomed to have my linen taken up to be washed and
+bleached upon the mountains every summer. The woman who did this for me
+is just gone out of the country; if you will do it, you will gain
+enough during the summer to make up for the loss of the cow. But are
+you not above such work as this, Ella? They say of you that you are
+proud--is this true?'
+
+"The bright dark eyes of Ella filled with tears, and she looked down
+upon the polished floor of the parlour in which she was talking with
+Madame Eversil.
+
+"'I know not, Madame,' she answered, 'whether I am proud or not, but I
+earnestly desire not to be so; and I thank you for your kind proposal,
+and as I am sure that I know my grandmother's mind, I accept it most
+joyfully.'
+
+"It was then settled that Madame Eversil should send all the linen
+which had been used during the winter, to be washed and whitened and
+scented with sweet herbs, up to the hill as soon as the snow was
+cleared from the lower Alps. And Ella went gaily back to tell her
+grandmother and Meeta what she had done.
+
+"They were both pleased; Meeta loved the thoughts of any new
+employment, and Monique promised her advice and assistance. Even
+Jacques, when he came in, said he thought he might help also in drawing
+water and spreading the linen on the grass.
+
+"'And I,' said little Margot, 'can gather the flowers to lay upon the
+things--can't I, Ella?'
+
+"So this matter was settled, and everyone in the family was pleased.
+The winter at length passed away: the cascades flowed freely from the
+melting snow; the wind blew softly from the south; the grass looked of
+the brightest, freshest green; and every brake was gay with flowers,
+amongst which none were more beautiful or abundant than the
+rose-coloured primrose or the blue gentian. The sheep, which had been
+penned up during the winter, were drawn out on the fresh pastures, and
+strangers began to come to the valley to see the waterfall, near to
+which they climbed by the sheep-path, which ran just under the hedge of
+Martin Stolberg's garden. Even before May was over, Jacques, who was
+all day abroad on the hills watching his sheep, counted eight or nine
+parties, which came in carriages to the inn, and climbed the mountain
+on foot.
+
+"Heister Kamp was quite set up by the honour of receiving so many noble
+persons in her house, and still more pleased in pocketing the silver
+she got from them.
+
+"There was great benefit also to Father St. Goar from the coming of
+these strangers, for he never failed to drop in just about the time
+that the guests had finished their dinner, and was always invited to
+taste of any savoury dish which remained, to which Heister generally
+added a bottle of the ordinary wine of the country.
+
+"Things were being carried on in this sort of way when, one morning in
+the beginning of June, Margot and Meeta and Jacques went higher up the
+hill towards the waterfall to gather sweet herbs and flowers to strew
+upon the linen that was spread on the sward before the cottage door.
+
+"Margot could not reach the roses which grew above her head, so she
+busied herself in plucking the wild thyme and other lowly flowers which
+grew on either side of the path, putting them into her little basket
+and calling out from one moment to another:
+
+"'See, Jacques! see, see, Meeta! see how pretty!'
+
+"But Meeta and Jacques were too busy to attend to her, for Meeta had
+climbed on a huge piece which had fallen from the rock, and was
+throwing wreaths of roses to Jacques, who was gathering them up; but at
+length it was impossible for them not to give some attention to the
+little one, she was calling to them with such impatience.
+
+"'Come, Jacques! come, Meeta!' she cried, 'I have found such a pretty
+little green fishing-net, all spotted with moons; and it has got rings,
+pretty gold rings; and there are yellow fish in it.' And she quite
+stamped with eagerness.
+
+"'What does she say?' cried Meeta; 'little magpie, what is it?'
+
+"'A pretty little net,' replied Margot, 'and fish in it, and moons and
+rings. Oh, come, come!'
+
+"'She has found something strange,' said Jacques; 'I hope nothing that
+will hurt her.' And down he came tumbling, in his own active way,
+straight to his little sister, being quickly followed by Meeta.
+
+"Margot was holding up what she had found, crying:
+
+"'Pretty, pretty, pretty!' for it was quite bright and sparkling in the
+sun.
+
+"'It is a purse!' said Jacques.
+
+"'A green silk purse,' added Meeta, 'with gold spangles and tassels,
+and gold rings, and it is full of louis d'ors; give it to me, Margot.'
+
+"'No, no, no!' cried the little girl; 'no, it is for grandmother; I
+shall take it to her.'
+
+"'It is a valuable purse,' said Jacques; 'somebody has lost it; now
+grandmother will be rich! Let me see it, Margot; let me see what is in
+it.'
+
+"'No, no, no!' cried the little one, clasping it in both her dimpled
+hands; 'you shall not have it! it is for grandmother.'
+
+"'Only let me carry it to the door,' said Jacques, 'for fear you should
+drop anything out of it; and when you come to the door, I will put it
+into your own hands.'
+
+"Jacques never said what was not true to Margot, and Margot knew it;
+she, therefore, was content to give the purse to him; and the three
+then set off to run home as fast as they could.
+
+"They supposed that no one had seen them when they were talking about
+the purse, but they were mistaken; Father St. Goar was not far off,
+though hidden from them by a part of the rock which projected between
+them.
+
+"He heard Margot cry and talk of having found a net, and golden fish in
+it; but when Meeta and Jacques came near to the child, he could hear no
+more, because they spoke lower than before. He had heard enough,
+however; and when he went back to the village, he told Heister Kamp
+what he had seen, and made her more curious than himself to find out
+what it could be, though she felt pretty sure that it must be a purse
+of gold.
+
+"How astonished was Monique when little Margot put the purse in her
+lap, for she was sitting at work just within the door.
+
+"Meeta would not let Margot tell her own story, but raised her voice so
+high that Martin himself from one side, and Ella from another, came to
+see what could have happened. They came in just in time to see Monique
+empty the purse, and count the golden pieces. There were as many as
+fifteen on the one side of the purse, and on the other was a ring with
+a precious stone in it, and four pieces of paper curiously stamped.
+Martin Stolberg saw at once that these pieces of paper were worth many
+times the value of the gold, for he or any man might have changed them
+for ten pounds each.
+
+"'Son,' said Monique, 'Margot found this near the waterfall; it must
+have been lost by some of the visitors; it is a wonder that we have
+heard of no one coming to look after it. What can we do with it?'
+
+"'Buy a cow, father,' said Jacques.
+
+"Martin Stolberg shook his head.
+
+"'It is not ours, Jacques,' he said, 'though we have found it; we must
+keep it honestly for the owner, should he ever come to claim it.'
+
+"'Father,' said Jacques, 'I was not thinking, or I hope I should not
+have said those words.'
+
+"'I know you spoke hastily, Jacques,' replied Martin; and then having
+given Margot a few little pieces of copper money as reward for her
+giving up the little net to her grandmother, he took his venerable
+parent by the hand, and led her into an inner room, where they settled
+what was to be done with the purse.
+
+"Martin said that the children must all be seriously enjoined never to
+mention the subject, because many dishonest persons might, if they
+could get at the description of the purse and its contents, come
+forward to claim it, and thus it might be lost to the real owner.
+
+"'But,' he added, 'lest I should be tempted to use any of the money for
+myself, I will take the purse down to-morrow to the pastor's, and leave
+it in his care. Where it is, however, must not be known even to the
+children, lest we should bring inconvenience upon him. In the meantime,
+dear mother, do you stow the treasure safely away, and charge the young
+ones not to mention what we have found to anyone.'
+
+"Martin then left the house; and Monique, going up to the room where
+she slept, and where the great family chest was kept, called all her
+grandchildren, and letting them see where she put the purse, she
+charged them, one and all, not to speak one word to any person out of
+the house about the treasure which had been found.
+
+"'Why must not we, grandmother?' said Margot.
+
+"'Because,' replied Monique, 'if any thieves were to hear that we had
+got so much money in the house, they might come some time when your
+father was out, and break open the chest and steal it.'
+
+"'And perhaps they might kill us,' replied Margot, trembling all over.
+
+"'We must not speak of it, then,' said Ella, 'to anyone.'
+
+"'Our best way,' remarked Jacques, 'will be not to mention it to each
+other. We will never speak of it.'
+
+"'How can we help it?' said Meeta; 'I can never help talking of what I
+am thinking about.'
+
+"'That is a mistake of yours, Meeta,' said Monique; 'you never talk of
+some things which happened at Vienne, which you think would be no
+credit to you.'
+
+"'You mean about our being so very poor, and being forced to sell our
+clothes, grandmother? I don't think that I should go to talk of that to
+strangers.'
+
+"'Then you can keep some things to yourself, Meeta,' said Monique; 'and
+we shall not excuse you if you are so imprudent as to let out this
+affair of the treasure we have found to anyone.'
+
+"'Don't fear me, grandmother,' returned Meeta; 'nobody shall hear from
+me--but we must watch little Margot.'
+
+"That same evening, Martin Stolberg carried the purse and all the
+contents down to the house of the good pastor. He gave as his reason
+for so doing, that, being himself somewhat pressed for money, he did
+not dare to trust himself with this treasure."
+
+
+
+
+The Story in Emily's Book. Part II.
+
+[Illustration: Going gaily down the hill]
+
+
+Lucy had read first, and when she had finished the half of the story,
+Mrs. Fairchild proposed that they should take what was in the basket,
+before they went on to the second part.
+
+Mr. Fairchild was called in, and Mrs. Fairchild served each person from
+the store.
+
+"I am quite sure," said Emily, "that Monique Stolberg never made nicer
+cakes than these."
+
+"Papa," said Lucy, "I cannot help thinking that your book is not half
+so pretty as ours. You don't know what a pleasant story we have been
+reading, and we have half of it left to read. Shall I tell it to you,
+papa?" she added; and springing up, she placed herself close to him,
+putting one arm round his neck, and in a few minutes she made him as
+well acquainted with Monique, and Martin, and Ella, and Meeta, and
+Jacques, and Margot, and Heister Kamp, and Father St. Goar, as she was
+herself; "and now, papa," she said, "will any of the children, do you
+think, betray the secret?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Fairchild, smiling, "one of them will."
+
+"And who will that be, papa?" said Emily.
+
+"Not Jacques," replied Henry, though he was not asked; "I am sure it
+will not be Jacques."
+
+"Wherefore, Henry?" said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"Because he is a boy," replied Henry, "and boys never tell secrets."
+
+"And are never imprudent!" answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "that is
+something new to me; but in this case I do not think it will be Jacques
+who will tell this secret."
+
+"Not Ella, papa?" asked Lucy.
+
+"I am sure it will not be Ella," added Lucy; "it must be between Meeta
+and little Margot."
+
+"Probably," said Mr. Fairchild; "and I have a notion which of the two
+it will be; and I shall whisper my suspicions to Henry; as he, being a
+boy, will be sure to keep my secret till the truth comes out of itself.
+Of course he might be trusted with a thing much more important than
+this."
+
+Mr. Fairchild then whispered either the name of Meeta or Margot to
+Henry; at any rate, he whispered a name beginning with an "M," and
+Henry looked not a little set up in having been thus chosen as his
+father's confidant.
+
+When every one of the children were satisfied, they placed the cup and
+the fragments in the basket, and then they all settled themselves in
+readiness for the rest of the story.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We must now turn, a little while, from the quiet, happy family in
+Martin Stolberg's cottage to Heister Kamp. What Father St. Goar had
+told her about Stolberg's children having found something curious near
+the waterfall had worked in her mind for above a week, for so long it
+was since Margot had found the purse; and she had watched for some of
+the children passing by her door every day since.
+
+"On the Sunday morning they did indeed pass by to go to church, but
+their father and grandmother were with them; and she knew well enough
+that she should have no chance of any of them when the older and wiser
+people were present.
+
+"The family came to church in the afternoon, but Heister was at chapel
+then.
+
+"In the evening, however, she made up her mind to climb the hill as far
+as the cascade, hoping there to meet one or two of the children
+standing about the place.
+
+"It was hot work for Heister to make her way up the hill so far, but
+what will not curious people do to satisfy their curiosity? And just
+then the village was particularly dull and quiet, as no stranger had
+happened to come for the last ten days, and many of the poor women had
+left their houses and gone up with their flocks to the châlets on the
+mountains.
+
+"When Heister got near Stolberg's cottage she met Jacques. He was going
+down on an errand to the pastor's from his father. He made a bow, and
+would have passed, when Heister stopped him to ask after his
+grandmother's health. When she had got an answer to this inquiry, she
+asked him various other questions about the lambs, the bees, and other
+matters belonging to the farm and garden; and then, with great seeming
+innocence, she said:
+
+"'You were looking for some herbs the other day, were you not, by the
+waterfall, and your sister found a very rare one, did she not? I ask
+you because I have many a chance of parting with scarce plants, dried
+and put into paper, to the strangers who come into the house.'
+
+"'I don't think,' answered Jacques, 'that little Margot would know a
+scarce plant if she found one.'
+
+"'But she did find something very curious that day,' said Heister.
+
+"'What day?' asked Jacques.
+
+"'It might be ten days since,' said Heister.
+
+"'Ten days?' repeated Jacques; 'what makes you remember ten days ago so
+particularly?'
+
+"'Well, but was it not about ten days ago,' returned Heister, 'that she
+found something very curious in the grass, and called on you to come
+and look at it?'
+
+"'There is scarce a day,' answered Jacques, 'in which she does not call
+me to come to her and see something she has met with more wonderful
+than ordinary. What was it she said when she called me that day you
+speak of? If you can tell me, why then I shall better know how to
+answer you.'
+
+"'She spoke of having found a net with golden fish and moons,' replied
+Heister; 'what could she mean?'
+
+"'It is difficult to know what she does mean sometimes,' said Jacques;
+'for the dear little lamb talks so fast that we do not attend to half
+she says. But is she not a nice little creature, Madame Kamp, and a
+merry one too?'
+
+"'Yes, to be sure,' replied Heister; 'but about the net and the
+fish--what could the little one mean?'
+
+"'Who heard her talk of them?' asked Jacques. 'Ask those who heard her,
+madame. _They_ ought to be able to tell you more about it. But I must
+wish you good evening, as I am in haste to go to the pastor's.'
+
+"Heister saw that she could make nothing of Jacques, so she let him go,
+pretending that she was herself going no higher, but about to turn
+another way.
+
+"As soon, however, as Jacques was out of sight, she came back into the
+path which ran at the bottom of the cottage garden, and there she saw
+little Margot seated on the bank under the hedge, with a nosegay in her
+hand.
+
+"The little one was dressed in her clean Sunday clothes, in the fashion
+of the country, and she wore a full striped petticoat which Monique had
+spun of lamb's-wool, a white jacket with short sleeves like the body of
+a frock, and a flowered chintz apron. Her pretty hair was left to curl
+naturally, and no child could have had a fairer, softer, purer
+complexion.
+
+"'Now,' thought Heister, 'I shall have it;' and she walked smilingly up
+to the child, and spoke fondly to her, asking her, 'where she got that
+pretty new apron?'
+
+[Illustration: "_Margot rose and made a curtsey._"--Page 262.]
+
+"Margot rose, made a curtsey, as she had been taught, and said:
+
+"'Grandmother made it, madame.'
+
+"Heister praised her pretty face, her bright eyes, her nice curling
+hair; and then she asked her if she had any pretty flowers to give her.
+
+"Margot immediately offered her nosegay, but she refused it, saying she
+did not want such flowers as those, but such curious ones as she
+sometimes found near the waterfall.
+
+"'I have got none now,' answered Margot.
+
+"'But you found a very curious one the other day, did you not, my
+pretty little damsel?' said Heister.
+
+"'Yes, madame,' said Margot, brightening up; 'yes, madame, I did.'
+
+"'Ay, I have it now,' thought Heister; and she patted the little one as
+she said, 'Was it not bright and shining like gold, and was there not
+something about it like moons?'
+
+"'Oh, no, madame,' replied the child; 'it was some pretty blue flowers
+that come every year. Jacques said they are called gentians; but I call
+them fairies' eyes, for they are just the very colour I always fancy
+the fairy of the Hartsfell's eyes must be--they are so very blue.'
+
+"'Well, well!' exclaimed Heister, hastily, 'I dare say they were
+very pretty; but did you not find something more curious on the
+mountains than flowers? What was it you found, that Monique praised you
+for finding, and told you you were a good child for giving it up to
+her?'
+
+"'Oh! it was the wild strawberries,' cried Margot; 'the pretty mountain
+strawberries. Grandmother thanked me for bringing her home the
+strawberries, for she said she had not tasted them since she was a
+girl.'
+
+"'Pshaw, child,' said Heister Kamp impatiently; 'it is not that I want
+to know. What was it you called a golden fish and moons?'
+
+"'Moons!' repeated Margot, colouring up to her very brow, 'moons,
+madame?'
+
+"'Ay, moons, child. What do you mean by moons?'
+
+"Poor little Margot! she was sadly put to for an answer, for she
+remembered what her grandmother had told her about keeping the secret
+of the purse; and not being old enough to evade a direct reply, she
+burst into tears, taking up her apron to her face.
+
+"'So you will not tell me what you call moons?' said Heister angrily;
+then, softening her tone, she added, 'Here, my pretty Margot, is a sou
+(or penny) for you, if you will tell me what you mean by moons and
+golden fish.' But seeing the child irresolute, she added, 'If you do
+not choose to tell, get out of my way, you little sulky thing.'
+
+"Margot waited no more, but the next moment the prudent little girl was
+up the bank and in the cottage, where she found her grandmother alone,
+to whom she told her troubles. Monique kissed her, wiped away her
+tears, and, taking her on her knee, she made the little one's eyes once
+more beam forth with smiles."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"There," said Henry, "just as papa said--he knew it would be Meeta."
+
+"Oh, Henry!" said Mrs. Fairchild, smiling, "how nicely you have kept
+papa's secret! You see you would not have done so well as little Margot
+did with Heister Kamp."
+
+Henry made no answer, and Emily went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Jacques had made up his mind never to allude to the affair of the
+treasure by a single word, so he kept his meeting with Heister to
+himself; and when you have read a little more, you will say how unlucky
+it was that he did so, or that Meeta was not present when Margot had
+been with her grandmother; but when you have read to the end, you will
+say it was all right as it was.
+
+"In the evening of the next day, Ella, with the help of Monique and
+Meeta, finished the getting up of a portion of the fine linen of Madame
+Eversil. It was therefore placed neatly in a basket covered with a
+white cloth, and sprinkled over with the fairest and choicest of
+flowers which could be gathered; and then Ella, being neatly dressed,
+raised it on her head, and set off with it to the village.
+
+"I wish we had a picture of Ella, just as she was that evening, going
+gaily down the hill with the basket so nicely balanced on her head,
+that she hardly ever put her hand to steady it, though she went
+skipping down the hill like the harts which in former times had given
+their name to the place.
+
+"She was dressed much as her little sister had been the evening before,
+only that she wore a linen kerchief and a linen cap, and her dark hair
+was simply braided. She loved to go to the pastor's, and she loved to
+be in motion; so she was very happy.
+
+"Her light basket travelled safely on her head, and nothing happened to
+disarrange it, excepting that one end of a long wreath of scarlet roses
+escaped from the inner part of the basket, and hung down from thence
+by the side of the fair cheeks of the young girl.
+
+"When Ella entered the little street, she saw no one till she came
+opposite the _Lion d'Or_, or _Golden Lion_, the house of Madame Kamp,
+and there she saw Heister, seated in the porch, knitting herself a
+petticoat of dyed wool in long stripes of various colours, with needles
+longer than her arm.
+
+"Heister liked knitting--it is the most convenient work for one who
+loves talking; the fingers may go whilst the tongue is most busy.
+
+"Ella would have gone on without noticing Madame Kamp, but Heister had
+no mind that she should.
+
+"'Good evening, Ella Stolberg,' she cried, 'whither away in such
+haste?--but I know, to Madame Eversil's. Can't you stop a minute? I
+have a word to say to you.'
+
+"Ella stopped, though not willingly.
+
+"'You look very bright and fair this evening, Ella,' said the cunning
+woman; 'and that garland hanging from your basket would be an ornament
+to Saint Flora herself; whose fancy was that, my girl? But it is a
+shame, Ella, that such a girl as you should be employed in getting up
+other people's linen--you above all, when there is no manner of
+necessity for it. I am much mistaken,' she added, with a cunning look,
+'if there are not more gold-fish in your father's net than ever found
+their way into mine.'
+
+"Ella was a little startled at this speech, and felt herself getting
+redder than she wished. She suddenly caught at her basket, brought it
+down from her head, and said, 'What garland is it you mean, neighbour?'
+and she busied herself in arranging the flowers again.
+
+"'Well, but the fish, Ella--the silver and golden fish in the net,'
+said Heister, 'what have you to say about them?'
+
+"Ella placed the basket on her head as she replied gaily:
+
+"'If there are gold and silver fish in plenty in the Hartsberg lakes,
+neighbour, it is but fair that they should sometimes be caught in nets.
+Fishes have no reason to guide them from danger; they are easily caught
+in nets. I must not, then, take example from them, else I shall, too,
+some day, perhaps, be caught. Jacques lays many a snare or nets for the
+birds of the mountains,' she added, as if to turn the conversation;
+'and once Margot found a young one caught, but she cried so bitterly
+about it that we took it home and nursed it till it got well. Did you
+ever see our starling, neighbour?'
+
+"'A pretty turn off!' said Heister; 'but you know that I mean the gold
+and silver fish to be louis-d'ors and francs, Ella. Has not your father
+now, girl, got more of these than he ever had in his life before?'
+
+"'I know this,' replied Ella, calmly, 'that I do firmly believe that my
+father never was so short of money as he is now: and this reminds me I
+must not linger, as I promised Madame Eversil a portion of her linen
+to-day: so good-evening, madame.'
+
+"Heister looked after Ella as she walked away, and muttered:
+
+"'The saucy cunning girl! but I am not deceived; I can trust Father St.
+Goar better than any one of those Stolbergs.'
+
+"About an hour before Ella had passed the _Lion d'Or_, a wild dark
+woman had come to the house to sell horn and wooden spoons. Heister had
+taken a few, and in return had given her a handful of broken victuals
+and a cup of wine; she had not carried these things away to eat and
+drink them, but had merely gone round the corner of the house, and sat
+herself down there in the dust. She was so near that she could hear
+all that had passed between Ella and Heister; above all, that Ella had
+said her father was decidedly short of money.
+
+"Ella had hardly turned into the gate of the pastor's house when Meeta
+appeared, going along after her. Monique had forgotten to send by Ella
+a pot of honey which she meant as a present to the pastor; and Meeta
+had offered to carry it, saying that she would have great pleasure in
+the errand, and would return with Ella. Monique gave permission; and
+Meeta appeared opposite to the _Golden Lion_ not five minutes after
+Ella was gone.
+
+"'A very good evening to you, Meeta,' cried Heister from the porch;
+'whither away in such haste? Stop a bit, I beseech you, and give a few
+minutes of your company to a neighbour. And how are all at home on the
+hill? I have been telling Ella, your cousin Ella, that she looked like
+the saint of the May. But you, Meeta, why, you might be painted for our
+Lady herself--so fresh and blooming, with your bright eyes and ruddy
+cheeks. But Ella tells me that things go hard with poor good Martin
+Stolberg--that he is short of money; and I am sorry, for I hoped that
+he had met with some good luck lately, and I fear that what I heard is
+not true.'
+
+"'What luck?' asked Meeta.
+
+"'Someone told me,' said Heister, 'that the little one had found a
+purse.'
+
+"'A purse?' repeated Meeta.
+
+"'What is a net,' answered Heister, 'with gold fish in it but a purse
+with gold pieces inside?'
+
+"'Where--where,' cried Meeta, 'could you have heard that? for
+grandmother was so very particular in making us promise not to mention
+it.'
+
+"'Heard it!' repeated the cunning widow; 'why, is not everything known
+that is done in the valley?'
+
+"'But how?' asked Meeta; 'yet I can guess: Margot has told you. I said
+I thought Margot would tell all about it. But do tell me, how came you
+to hear it?'
+
+"'Oh! there are a thousand ways of getting at the truth,' replied
+Heister; 'for if anything does happen out of the very commonest way, is
+it not talked of in my house by those who come and go? But this thing
+is in everybody's mouth, and people don't scruple to say that there
+were a vast number of golden pieces in the purse--some say a hundred.'
+
+"'Nay, nay,' replied Meeta, 'that is overdoing it; I really don't think
+there are more than fifteen.'
+
+"'Well,' returned Heister, 'I don't want to know exactly how many there
+are--I am not curious; no one troubles herself less with other people's
+affairs than I do; but I am glad this good luck has come to Martin
+Stolberg, above all others in the valley.'
+
+"'That is very kind of you,' replied Meeta, 'but I do not see what luck
+it is to him, for the money is not his, and he could not think of
+spending it: it is all put by in some safe place in the house.'
+
+"'Very good, very right,' answered Heister. 'No, no! Martin could never
+have such a thought. But where in the world can you find a place in the
+house safe enough for so many pieces? I should doubt whether they could
+count as many together even at Madame Eversil's. So you say there are
+fifteen, pretty Meeta? and though no doubt they take but little
+house-room, yet I should be sorry to keep so many in my poor little
+cottage, for I know not where I could stow them safely. I suppose
+neighbour Monique keeps them in her blue cupboard near the
+kitchen-stove?--a very good and a very safe place, no doubt, for them.'
+
+"'Oh, no,' cried Meeta, 'she has them in her chest above stairs, and
+my uncle keeps the key himself, and carries it about with him; but what
+am I doing here, lingering? Ella will have left the pastor's before I
+have reached there, if I stay with you, neighbour, any longer. So
+good-even,' she added, 'and pray don't say a word about where my Uncle
+Stolberg keeps the money, or else grandmother will think I have told
+you, and she will, perhaps, be angry with me.'
+
+"'And who else did tell me but yourself, giddy one?' cried Heister
+Kamp, laughing. 'It was all guess with me, I promise you, till you had
+it all out. Ella and Jacques, and even little Margot, would not tell me
+a word about it; and I really began to think that Father St. Goar had
+mistaken what the little one had said, till you let the cat out of the
+bag. But you ought to make haste after Ella, so don't let me hinder
+you.' And she arose and went laughing into the house, whilst Meeta
+hastened after her cousin.
+
+"We cannot suppose that Meeta's reflections were very pleasant, for, as
+soon as she was left to herself, she felt how very imprudent she had
+been. She tried, however, to comfort herself with thinking that she had
+done no harm. 'For what can it signify,' she said to herself, 'if
+Heister does know the truth?' But she would take care not to mention at
+home what she had said to Madame Kamp; and in this Meeta found, to her
+cost, that she could keep a secret."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"There now!" cried Henry, as Emily was turning over a leaf, "papa was
+right; he told me who would betray the secret."
+
+"We all guessed," said Lucy; "but, Emily, do go on."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The gipsy, or zingara (as they call such people in Switzerland and
+Germany), for such she was, had heard every word which had passed
+between Madame Kamp and Meeta; and as the coast was quite clear, she
+put the remains of her broken victuals into her bag and skulked away,
+like a thief as she was; and nobody thought of her, nor saw her go.
+
+"Three or four days passed quietly after the evening in which Meeta and
+Ella went to the village; but on the fourth morning a message came from
+Madame Eversil to Monique, to tell her that she had just heard of a
+party of persons of great consequence who were coming from a distance
+to dine at her house; she sent to beg her to come down immediately to
+help in getting the dinner, and, if she had no objection, to bring Ella
+with her to wait on the ladies and at table.
+
+"Martin Stolberg had gone off early that morning to market, at the
+nearest town, three leagues off; Jacques had gone up on the higher
+pastures with the flocks; and when Monique and Ella went down to the
+pastor's, only Meeta and Margot were left at the cottage.
+
+"Ella dressed herself in her Sunday clothes, and carried the basket,
+which her grandmother had packed, down the hill. Monique had filled the
+basket with everything she thought might be useful--a bottle of cream,
+new-laid eggs, and fresh flowers. She bade Margot and Meeta be good
+girls, and keep close at home, when she parted from them, with a kiss
+to each; and the next minute she and Ella were going down the hill."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I know what is coming next," cried Henry, as Emily turned over a leaf;
+"but do make haste, Emily."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Nothing could be more still and quiet than the cottage and all about
+it seemed to be when Meeta and Margot were left in it; for nothing was
+heard, when the children were not talking, but the rushing of the
+waterfall, the humming of the bees, and the bleating of the distant
+flocks, and now and then the barking of a sheep-dog.
+
+"Every cottager on those hills keeps a dog. Wolf was the name of Martin
+Stolberg's dog: Wolf was of the true shepherd's breed, and a most
+careful watch he kept both day and night; but he had gone that morning
+with Jacques to the Alps above the waterfall.
+
+"Monique had told the two girls that they might have peas for dinner,
+so it was their first business to gather these peas, and bring them
+into the house. Margot then sat down to shell them, but she did not sit
+within the house, because of the litter she always made when she
+shelled peas; so she sat on a little plot of grass under a tall tree,
+on one side of the straight path which led from the garden-gate to the
+house-door. Meeta remained within, being busy in setting the kitchen in
+order before she sat down to her sewing; and thus they were both
+engaged, when Margot saw two people come up to the wicket. Margot was
+very shy, as children are who do not see many strangers, and without
+waiting to look again at these persons, she jumped up and hid herself
+behind the large trunk of a tree, peeping at the people who were
+walking on to the house. The first was a very tall large woman: she
+wore a petticoat, all patched with various colours, which hardly came
+down to her ankles; she had long black and gray hair, which hung loose
+over her shoulders; a man's hat, and a cloak thrown back from the
+front, and hanging in jags and tatters behind. She came up the path
+with long steps like a man's, and was followed by a young man, perhaps
+her son, who seemed, by his ragged dirty dress, to be fit to bear her
+company.
+
+"Meeta did not see these people till the large form of the woman
+darkened the gateway. She was placing some cups on the shelf, and had
+her back to the door; when she turned, she not only saw the woman, but
+the man peeping over her shoulder, and though she was frightened she
+tried not to appear to be so.
+
+"'Mistress!' said the woman in a loud harsh voice, 'I am dying with
+thirst; can you give me anything to drink?' and as she said so, she
+walked in and sat herself on the first seat she could find. The man
+came in after her, and began looking curiously about him.
+
+"'I have nothing but water or milk to offer you,' answered Meeta, whose
+face was become as white as the cloth she held in her hand.
+
+"'It does not matter,' said the woman; 'we have other business here
+besides satisfying our thirst; it was you, was it not, that told the
+hostess of the inn below that your uncle found a purse of gold and put
+it by? The purse is ours, we lost it near this place; we are come to
+claim it.'
+
+"'Yes,' said the man, advancing a step or two towards Meeta; 'it is
+ours, and we must have it.'
+
+"'My uncle,' answered the trembling girl, 'is not at home; I cannot
+give you the purse.'
+
+"'You can't?' replied the man; 'we will see to that, young mistress; we
+knew your uncle was out when we came here, else we had not come; but we
+heard you say that you could tell, as well as he could, where he put
+the purse; if you do not do it willingly, we will make you.'
+
+"Meeta began to declare and profess most solemnly that she did not know
+where the keys were kept; indeed, she believed that her grandmother had
+taken them away in her pocket.
+
+"The fierce man used such language as Meeta had never heard before; and
+the woman, laying her heavy hand on her shoulder, gave her a terrible
+shake.
+
+"'Tell us,' said she, 'where is the chest into which the purse was
+put, or I will throw you on the ground and trample you under my feet.'
+
+"Meeta, in her excessive terror, uttered two or three fearful shrieks;
+and would, no doubt, have gone on shrieking, if the horrible people had
+not threatened to silence her voice for ever.
+
+"Little Margot, from behind her tree, heard those cries; and it is
+marvellous how the wits of a little child are sometimes sharpened, in
+cases of great trial; she thought, and thought truly, that she could do
+Meeta no good by running to her, but that she might help her by flying,
+as fast as her young feet could carry her, to the village. It was down
+hill all the way, and it was all straight running, if she could get
+unseen into the path on the other side of the hedge. So she threw
+herself on her hands and feet, and crept on all fours to where the
+hedge was thinnest, and, neither minding tears nor scratches, the hardy
+child came tumbling out on the path on the side of the village, jumping
+up on her feet; and no little lapwing could have flown the path more
+swiftly than she did."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well done, Margot!" cried Henry; but Emily did not stop to answer him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Jacques, at the very time in which Margot had begun to run down the
+hill, was watching his flock on the side of a green and not very steep
+peak, scarcely a quarter of a mile, as a bird would fly, from the
+cottage, though, to drive his flock up to it, he had perhaps the
+greater part of a mile to go. On the top of this peak were a few dark
+pines which might be seen for miles. Jacques was seated quietly beneath
+the shade of one of these trees; his sheep were feeding about him, his
+dog apparently sleeping at his feet, and his eyes being occupied at one
+moment in taking a careful glance at his flocks, and again fixed on a
+small old book which he held in his hand. Nothing could have been more
+quiet than was the mountain in that hour, nearly the hottest of the
+day; and how little did Jacques Stolberg imagine what was then going
+forward so near to him.
+
+"Wolf had been supposed by his master to be asleep some minutes, when
+suddenly the creature uttered a short sleepy bark, and then, raising
+his head and pricking his ears, he remained a minute in the attitude of
+deep attention and anxious listening.
+
+"'What is it, Wolf?' said Jacques: 'what is it, boy?'
+
+"The dog drew his ears forward, every hair in his rough coat began to
+bristle itself; he sprang upon his four feet--he stood a moment.
+
+"'What does he see?' cried Jacques, getting up also, and grasping his
+crooked staff; 'eh, Wolf, what is it?'
+
+"The dog heeded not his master's voice. He had heard some sound as he
+lay with his ear to the ground; he had made out the quarter from which
+it came whilst he stood listening at Jacques' feet. He had judged that
+there was no time for delay; and the next moment he was bounding down
+the slope, straight as an arrow in its course. There Jacques saw him
+bounding and leaping over all impediments, reaching the bottom of a
+ravine, or dry watercourse, at the foot of a small hill, and again
+running with unabated speed up the opposite bank. Jacques thought he
+was going directly towards the cottage, for the young shepherd could
+see him all the way; but as if on second thoughts, the faithful
+creature left the cottage, when near to it, on the right, and passing
+over the brow of the hill, was soon out of sight in the direction of
+the village.
+
+"Jacques knew not what to think, but he had little doubt that the dog
+was aware of something wrong; so the boy did not waver; his sheep were
+quiet, he was forced to trust that they should not stray if he left
+them a little while, and he hesitated not to follow Wolf; though he
+could not so speedily overcome the difficulties of the way as the dog
+had done.
+
+"Whilst Margot was running to the village, Wolf running after Margot
+(for such he afterwards proved was his purpose), and Jacques after
+Wolf, the fierce man had frightened poor Meeta out of all the small
+discretion which she ever had at command; and she told him that she had
+seen her grandmother put the purse in the great chest above stairs,
+that she did not know whether her uncle had taken the key, though,
+perchance, little Margot might know, as she slept with her grandmother.
+
+"She could not have done a more imprudent thing than mention Margot,
+for the woman immediately started, like one suddenly reminded of an
+oversight, at the mention of the child's name, and ran out instantly to
+seek her; at the same time the man drove Meeta before him up the ladder
+or stairs to where the great old chest which contained all the spare
+linen and other treasures of the family stood, and had stood almost as
+long as the house had been a house. There, without waiting the ceremony
+of looking for the key, he wrenched the chest open, pulling out every
+article which it contained, opening every bundle, and scattering
+everything on the floor, telling Meeta that, if he did not find the
+purse, she should either tell him where it was or suffer his severest
+vengeance.
+
+"So dreadful were the oaths he used that the poor girl was ready to
+faint, and the whitest linen in that chest was not so white as her
+cheeks and lips.
+
+"The woman, in the meantime, was seeking Margot, and, with the cunning
+of a gipsy, had traced the impression of the little feet to the corner
+of the garden, where a bit of cloth torn from the child's apron showed
+the place where she had crept through the hedge. The gipsy could not
+creep through the opening as the child had done, but she could get over
+the hedge; and this she speedily did, and saw the little one before
+her, running with all her might. At the noise the woman made at
+springing from the hedge, Margot looked back, and set up a shriek, and
+that shriek was probably what first roused Wolf, who was lying with his
+ear on the earth.
+
+"Now there were four running all at once; Margot first, the gipsy after
+her and gaining fast upon her, Wolf springing over every impediment and
+gaining ground on the gipsy, and Jacques after the dog; and there was
+another party too coming to where Margot was. These last were coming
+from the pastor's house; and there was a lady seated on Madame
+Eversil's mule, on a Spanish saddle, and a little page in a rich livery
+was leading the mule. The pastor was walking immediately behind her
+with two gentlemen, her husband and her son. This lady was a countess,
+and she it was who had lost the purse a few weeks before, when she had
+come to see the cascade.
+
+"In going home that day the carriage had been overturned, and she had
+been so much hurt that she never thought of her purse until a few days
+afterwards, and then she supposed that it must have been lost where the
+carriage had been overturned. She caused great search to be made about
+that place; and it might have appeared to be quite by accident that
+Monsieur Eversil heard of that search; but there is nothing which
+happens in this world by accident. He knew the count and countess, and
+wrote to them to tell them that if they would come again to Hartsberg
+and take dinner in his humble house, he would give them good news of
+the purse.
+
+"When they came he told them of the honesty of the family of the
+Stolbergs; and when he had placed the purse in the hands of the
+countess, and she had seen that nothing had been taken out of it, the
+pastor brought the venerable Monique and the fair Ella before the noble
+lady, and she was as much pleased with one as with the other. Her mind,
+therefore, was full of some plan for rewarding these poor honest
+people, and more especially when Monique told her how the least of the
+family had found the net and the golden fish and the moons.
+
+"'I must see that little Margot,' she said, 'and if she is like her
+sister, I shall love her vastly;' and then it was settled that the mule
+should be saddled, and that she and the gentlemen should go up the
+hill, whilst Madame Eversil remained to look after dinner.
+
+"This party were also on the hill, though lower down and hidden by the
+winding of the way, when Margot set out to run; but none of Margot's
+friends would have been in time to save her, if it had not been for
+Wolf. The wicked gipsy had resolved, if she could catch her, to stop
+her cries one way or another; to take her in her arms, hold her hand
+over her mouth, and to run with her to some place in the hills, not far
+off, some cave or hole known only to herself and her own people; and if
+the poor child had once been brought there, she would never have been
+suffered to go free again among her friends to tell where the zingari
+hole was.
+
+"When Margot knew that the woman was after her she increased her speed,
+but all in vain; the gipsy came on like the giant with the
+seven-leagued boots; she caught the terrified child in her arms, put a
+corner of her ragged cloak into her mouth, and, turning out of the path
+down into a hollow of the hills, hoped to be clear in a minute more.
+
+"But she was not to have that minute; Wolf was behind; he had flown
+with the swiftness of the wild hart, and when within leaping distance
+of the old woman, he sprang upon her, and caused his fangs to meet in
+her leg. She uttered a cry, and tried to shake him off, but he only let
+go in one place to seize another, so she was forced to drop the
+struggling child in order to defend herself from the dog, for she
+expected next that he would fly at her throat. It was a fearful battle
+that, between the hardy gipsy and the enraged dog. The howlings and
+bayings of the furious animal were terrible, his fangs were red with
+the gipsy's blood; the woman, in her fear and pain, uttered the most
+horrid words, whilst little Margot shrieked with terror. Though the
+battle hardly lasted two minutes, it gave time for Jacques to come in
+sight of it on one side; the pastor, the count, and his son at another.
+
+"Jacques did not understand the cause of this terrible war; he only saw
+that his dog was tearing the flesh of a woman; he did not at first see
+Margot, who had sunk in terror on the grass; therefore he called off
+his dog with a voice of authority, and the moment Wolf had loosed his
+hold of the woman, she fled from the place, and was never more seen in
+that country. But now all this party had met round Margot, looking all
+amazement at each other, whilst the little one sat sobbing on the
+ground, and Wolf stood looking anxiously at his young master, panting
+from his late exertions, and licking his bloody fangs, for there was no
+one to explain anything but the child.
+
+"'What is all this, Jacques?' asked the pastor.
+
+"'What is it, Margot?' said Jacques, taking his little sister in his
+arms, and soothing her as he well knew how to do; whilst she, clinging
+close to him, could not at first find one word to say.
+
+"Jacques carried the child, and they all went back into the path, where
+the countess sat, anxiously waiting for them, on her mule.
+
+"All that Margot could say to be understood was:
+
+"'Run, run, to poor Meeta--they will kill her; the man will kill her,
+and Wolf is not there.'
+
+"Jacques repeated her words to the pastor.
+
+"'I have it, Jacques,' replied the good man; 'these vagrants are after
+the treasure; maybe there are others in the cottage; put the child
+down, my boy, leave her to walk by the lady, and let us all run
+forward.'
+
+"'Nay, nay,' said the lady, 'put the sweet child in my arms and hasten
+on.' So it was done, and the gentle lady took the little peasant before
+her, whilst she soothed her with her gentle tones and kindly words.
+
+"'And what,' said she, 'was that naughty woman going to do with you?
+and who was it that saved you?'
+
+"'Good Wolf came, madame,' said the child, 'and he saved me; but poor
+Meeta--they will kill poor Meeta!'
+
+"When Jacques and those who were with him had reached the cottage, they
+found the doors all open, but no one below; they went up the stairs,
+and there they found Meeta extended on the floor in a deep fainting
+fit. The chest stood open, and all its contents scattered about, but no
+man was there; he had probably taken alarm at the various cries and
+howlings which he had heard, and had made good his escape.
+
+"Meeta was lifted up and laid on the bed, and water being dashed in her
+face, she opened her eyes, but for a while could say nothing to be
+understood.
+
+"She was soon able to arise, and to come down the stairs with the arm
+of the pastor, though her head was still dizzy and she trembled all
+over. In the kitchen they found the lady and little Margot; and it was
+then that, between Meeta and Margot, they were able to make out what
+had happened. Then it was that everyone patted the head of Wolf and
+smiled upon him, calling him 'Good dog'; and Margot kissed him, and he
+wagged his tail, and went about to be caressed.
+
+"'And so,' said the countess to the little one, 'it was you, my pretty
+child, who found the silken net with the golden fish and pretty moons;
+and it was through my carelessness in losing it that all this mischief
+of to-day is come. I cannot bear to think of what might have happened
+to you, poor baby;' and the lady stooped and kissed the child, and it
+was seen that she had tears in her eyes.
+
+"'All is now well, lady, through the care of Providence,' said the
+pastor, 'and we will rejoice together, and I trust be grateful to Him
+from whom all mercies flow; for if we had lost our little Margot, it
+would have been a thousandfold worse than the loss of the purse. But
+one thing puzzles me: how did these vagrants discover that this
+treasure had been found? Who could have told it? I thought it had been
+known only to this family and me.'
+
+"'I am the guilty person,' said Meeta, coming forward; 'I will not
+throw suspicion on others by hiding my fault;' and she then repeated
+her conversation with Heister Kamp, but she could give no account of
+how the secret had passed on to the gipsies.
+
+"'I am sure,' said the pastor, 'that Heister would be above having to
+do with such people; but she is a woman of excessive curiosity, and
+such people are dangerous to others, as well as injurious to
+themselves.'
+
+"'A secret, my good girl,' said the countess, smiling, 'may be compared
+to a bird in a cage; whilst shut up within our own breasts, it is safe;
+but when we open the door, either of the cage or of the heart, to let
+the inmate out, we can never tell whither it may fly; but you have
+owned the truth, and you have suffered severely--let all be
+forgotten.'
+
+"'I have a proposal to make,' said the pastor; 'we will go back and
+dine, and in the evening we will all come up and sup together; the good
+man shall find us feasting when he comes home.'
+
+"'Agreed,' cried the count and countess; 'you must set the house in
+order, and we will send up the entertainment,' she added, speaking to
+Meeta and Jacques; 'and we will be with you in a few hours. Let us then
+see this little fair one in all the bravery of her Sunday attire.'
+
+"And all was done as the lady and pastor wished. Meeta set everything
+in proper order. Jacques brought his flocks from the pasture, and gave
+his best help. All the Sunday dresses were put on, and Margot was
+standing at the wicket in her very best apron, when the mule and the
+lady appeared again, followed by the pastor and Monique, Ella, and
+people without number, bearing the things needful for such a supper as
+had not often been enjoyed under that roof.
+
+"Oh, what a happy meeting was that! How delighted was the lady with
+Margot, and what a beautiful little enamelled box for containing
+sweetmeats did she give her from her pocket! But there were no
+sweetmeats in it; there were what Margot called golden fish.
+
+"Wolf had a glorious evening; he went about again to be patted, and he
+had as much to eat, for once in his life, as he could conveniently
+swallow.
+
+"Meeta was forgiven by everyone, because she had not hidden her fault;
+and the whole party were just sitting down to supper before the porch
+when Martin Stolberg came home.
+
+"Who shall say how astonished he was, or how grateful when the countess
+placed in his hand all the gold which had been found in the purse?--the
+count adding, that in a few days he might look for a fine young cow and
+two sheep from his own farm, in the vicinity of his castle; and also
+saying, at the same time, that he and his lady should have great
+pleasure in doing anything for him and his family at any time when they
+might apply to them.
+
+"The lady did not overlook Meeta and Ella; she assured them that she
+would remember them when the cow was brought; and truly there was an
+ample store of linen and flowered aprons, and kerchiefs and caps of
+fine linen, in packets directed to each. But the little one, like
+Benjamin, had more than her share even of these presents also; and she
+had well deserved them, for she had shared her golden fish with her
+brother, sister, and cousin.
+
+"The young count took upon himself to make presents to Jacques; he sent
+him a strong set of gardener's and carpenter's tools, and a Sunday suit
+of better clothes than Jacques had ever worn before.
+
+"Martin put his gold into the pastor's hands till he should require it,
+being in no mind to keep much treasure in his house.
+
+"It is only necessary to add, that the count took proper steps for
+finding the wicked gipsy and her son, but they had left the country and
+could not be found; neither were they ever again seen by the peasants
+of the Hartsberg."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well," said Henry, when Emily had finished reading, "that is a
+beautiful book: it made me so hot when they were all running, my feet
+felt as if they would run too--they quite shook--I could not keep them
+quiet."
+
+"And how nicely you kept papa's secret!" said Mrs. Fairchild; "you
+showed that you were not much more clever than Meeta."
+
+"But then, mamma," replied Henry, "papa's secret was not of so much
+consequence as Meeta's was."
+
+"Now, mamma," said Emily, "when do you think the day will come for
+Henry's story?"
+
+Mrs. Fairchild answered:
+
+"Papa will tell us when he can spare an evening."
+
+"My book, I am certain," said Henry, "will be prettier than yours,
+Emily."
+
+"Why must it be prettier?" asked his mother.
+
+"Because Lucy said it is all about boys; I like boys' stories--there
+are so few books about boys."
+
+"But I think it is a grave story," said Lucy.
+
+"Never mind," answered Henry, "if it be about boys."
+
+[Illustration: "_Meeta offered to carry the honey._"--Page 269.]
+
+
+
+
+Guests at Mr. Fairchild's
+
+[Illustration: "She does not know that I made a slit in my frock"]
+
+
+The night after Emily's story had been read, there was a violent
+thunderstorm and rain, which continued more or less till daybreak; it
+was fine again after sunrise.
+
+At breakfast a note was brought by a boy from Mrs. Goodriche: these
+were the words of it:
+
+     "DEAR MR. FAIRCHILD,
+
+     "Since that happy day we spent together, we have been in what
+     Sukey calls a peck of troubles; and, to crown all, last night one
+     of our old chimneys was struck with lightning: part of it fell
+     immediately, but I am thankful to be able to say, that by the care
+     of Providence no one was hurt.
+
+     "We are all got into a corner out of the reach of it, should it
+     fall, though it might yet stand for years as it is. I have other
+     things to talk to you about, and was thinking of coming over to
+     you if this accident had not happened. Now I must ask you to come
+     to me; I have sent for workmen to consult about this chimney, but
+     I shall have more confidence if you are here."
+
+"I must be off immediately after breakfast," said Mr. Fairchild; and he
+did set off, in his little carriage, as soon as he had set Henry to
+work.
+
+Mr. Fairchild saw the top of the ragged chimney over the trees in the
+garden. As soon as he came up to the gate, he himself put up the horse
+and carriage, for he could see no man about, and then went in at the
+back door, expecting to find Mrs. Goodriche at that end of the house
+farthest from the chimney.
+
+Sukey was the first person he saw.
+
+"Oh, sir," she said, "I am so glad you are come! We shall be all right
+now."
+
+"Nay," said Mr. Fairchild, jestingly, "I hope you don't expect _me_ to
+repair the chimney."
+
+"Is that Mr. Fairchild?" cried the cheerful voice of Mrs. Goodriche;
+and the next minute she came out of her parlour, followed by a tall
+round-faced girl of about twelve years of age, in very deep mourning.
+
+"My niece, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but tell me, have you
+breakfasted?" And when she heard that he had; "Come with me, kind
+friend," she said, "we will first look at the ruin, and then I have
+other things to talk to you, and to consult you about. So, Bessy, do
+you stay behind; you are not to make one in our consultations."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche and Mr. Fairchild then walked into the garden; and we
+will tell, in as few words as possible, what they talked about.
+
+First they spoke of the chimney, and Mr. Fairchild said that he could
+give no opinion about it till the owner of the house and the masons
+came, and they were expected every hour.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche said that she had lived in that house nearly twenty
+years, and should be sorry to leave it; but that she and Sukey, on
+windy nights, often felt that they should be glad to be out of it.
+
+"And yet," said Mr. Fairchild, "it may stand long after you and I;
+still it is a wide, dull place for two persons, and very solitary."
+
+"I wish I could get a house your way," replied Mrs. Goodriche; "though
+now we shall be more than myself and Sukey; and this brings me to the
+subject I wanted to consult you about before the business of the
+chimney."
+
+Mr. Fairchild knew that Mrs. Goodriche had had one only brother, who
+had gone abroad, when young, as a merchant. He had married, and had one
+son; this son had also married, and Bessy was the only child of this
+son. Mrs. Goodriche's brother had died years ago, as had also his son's
+wife; at which time her nephew had sent his daughter home and placed
+her in a school in some seaport in the south of England, where she had,
+it seems, learned little or nothing.
+
+Within the last month, Mrs. Goodriche had heard of the death of her
+nephew, and that she was left as guardian of his daughter.
+
+"I had an acquaintance going to Plymouth only last week," she added;
+"and I got him to take charge of Bessy and bring her here. She has been
+with me only a few days, and is very glad to leave school, which does
+not speak well for her governess; or if not for her governess, for
+herself. As to what she is, I can as yet say little," added the old
+lady, "except that she seems to be affectionate and good-tempered; but
+she is also idle, wasteful, and ignorant in the extreme. She can't read
+even English easily enough to amuse herself with any book; and as to
+sewing, she is ready at a sampler, but could not put the simplest
+article of clothing together. With regard to any knowledge of the
+Bible, I much doubt if she can tell if the tower of Babel was built
+before or after the Flood. She is a determined gossip and a great
+talker; but Sukey, to whom she is always chattering, assures me that
+she has never heard her say anything bad beyond nonsense."
+
+"You mean to keep her with you?" asked Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"I do," said Mrs. Goodriche; "I think it my duty, and I am far from
+disliking the poor thing. She has had so much schooling, and gained so
+little by it, that if I could get a good writing and maybe a ciphering
+master to attend her, I think I could do the rest myself, and impart to
+her some of the old-fashioned notions of industry, and neatness, and
+management. But this is a subject I wanted to consult you and Mrs.
+Fairchild about, for I so much like your plans with your own dear
+children."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild had asked her husband to invite Mrs. Goodriche to their
+house until the chimney should be repaired; but Mr. Fairchild was
+doubtful whether this message should be delivered, when he heard that
+Miss Bessy was to remain with her great-aunt. After a little thought,
+however, he gave the message, stating his difficulty at the same time.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Goodriche, "I hardly know what to say: I should like
+to come to you, and I should like Bessy to see your children and your
+family plans; but as I know so little of her, I know not whether it
+would be right to let her mix with your children. You shall think the
+matter over, my good friend, and consult your wife; and be sure,
+whichever way the thing is settled, I shall not be offended."
+
+When the men came to look at the chimney, it was found that the
+mischief might be remedied by a few days' work, so far as to make the
+chimney safe; but it was also seen that the house wanted many repairs.
+
+"I think," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that I must give notice to quit this
+coming Midsummer. I shall still have half a year to look about me. The
+fright last night seems to have been sent to oblige me to settle my
+plans. I feel that this place is not exactly what will suit my
+niece--young people must have company; and if they are not where they
+can find their equals, they will fly to their inferiors. Bessy will
+make intimacies with every cottager in the wood, and I shall not be
+able to help it."
+
+"I believe you are right, Mrs. Goodriche," replied Mr. Fairchild; "and
+I wish we could find a house for you in our village."
+
+Mr. Fairchild looked very anxiously at Bessy when he saw her again.
+There was a great appearance of good temper and kindness about her
+which pleased him. She had a round rosy face and laughing eyes; but her
+clothes, although quite new, were already out of place, and falling
+from one shoulder. She talked incessantly, whether heeded or not, and
+seldom said anything to the purpose.
+
+"If I were to begin to find fault with her," said Mrs. Goodriche to Mr.
+Fairchild, "I could never have done: not that she is constantly
+committing heavy offences, but she never does anything in the right
+way. What shall I do with her, my good friend?"
+
+"We will talk over the affair at home," replied Mr. Fairchild; "and you
+shall see me again to-morrow."
+
+The next day accordingly brought Mr. Fairchild, and with him Mrs.
+Fairchild.
+
+"Well, my good madam," said he, "we have settled it; we shall be glad
+to see you and Miss Bessy. We have spoken to Lucy and Emily; and they
+have promised to attend to all our wishes, and to inform us if
+anything should be said or done which they think we should not
+approve. So when shall I fetch you?--say to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow, then," replied Mrs. Goodriche; "to-morrow evening, by which
+time I shall have settled things at home, and provided a person to be
+with Sukey."
+
+After an early dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild went home.
+
+The next morning Mrs. Fairchild had some conversation with her little
+girls.
+
+"You have never, my dears," she said, "been in a house for any time
+with a young person whose character we do not know; but it seems that
+it is required of us now to receive such a one. Mrs. Goodriche is an
+old and very dear friend; she is in trouble, and she has some hopes
+that her niece may be benefited by being for a while in an orderly
+family. You and Emily may be some help to her; but if you are led by
+her, or are unkind to her, or show that you think yourselves better
+than she is, you may not only be hurt yourselves, but very much hurt
+her instead of doing her good."
+
+"Oh, mamma," replied Lucy, "I hope that we shall not do that: pray tell
+us every day exactly what to do."
+
+"Be assured that I will, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we
+will not fear. You will not dislike Bessy--she is a good-tempered,
+merry girl; but you must not let her be alone with Henry: her very good
+humour may make her a dangerous companion to him."
+
+Mr. Fairchild went, after dinner, to fetch Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy;
+and just before tea Henry came in to say the carriage was coming. He
+ran out again as fast as he could to set the gate open.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild and the little girls met their visitors at the door.
+
+Bessy jumped out of the carriage, and without waiting for the names to
+be spoken, gave her hands to Lucy and Emily. She kissed Lucy, and would
+have kissed Emily if she had not got behind Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"And that was Henry," she said, "who stood at the gate: he is a nice
+little fellow! I know all the names, and John's and Betty's too. Sukey
+has told me about Betty--just such another as herself. What a pretty
+place this is!--not like aunt's old barn of a house. I feel at home
+here already."
+
+Whilst the young lady was prattling in this manner, Mrs. Fairchild was
+showing Mrs. Goodriche to her sleeping-room. She had put up a little
+couch-bed in the corner of the same room for Bessy, as she had no other
+room to give; and this had been settled between the ladies the day
+before. Mrs. Goodriche had told her niece to follow her upstairs, which
+Miss Bessy might perchance have done, after a while, had not Betty
+appeared coming from the kitchen to carry up the luggage.
+
+"That is Betty," said Miss Bessy. "How do you do, Betty? Sukey told me
+to remember her to you."
+
+"Very well, thank you, Miss," said Betty, with a low curtsey, as she
+bustled by with a bandbox.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche now appeared, and speaking to her niece from the
+stair-head said:
+
+"Come up, Bessy, and put yourself to rights before tea."
+
+"Shan't I do, Miss Lucy?" said Bessy; "aunty is so particular; she does
+not know that I made a monstrous slit in my frock as I got into the
+carriage. I pinned it up, however, as well as I could, though I was
+forced to take the pins out of my dress for it. I shall run it up
+to-morrow, for, if she sees it, poor I will be forced to darn it thread
+by thread; so do lend me a pin or two, dear girls."
+
+Betty now appeared again with a message to the young lady to go
+upstairs to her aunt, and then Bessy hurried off so rapidly, taking two
+steps at a time, that Lucy and Emily expected she would have a second
+slit in her dress to mend the next day. She did not appear again till
+told that tea was ready, when she came down after her aunt. Mrs.
+Goodriche looked all kind and calm as usual; she seemed quite pleased
+to find herself with her friends, though no doubt she was a little
+uneasy lest her niece should disgrace herself. As Bessy passed Lucy to
+go to a seat near Mrs. Fairchild, she whispered:
+
+"Aunt has found out the slit, and poor I will be set to the darning
+to-morrow."
+
+The whole party were seated before Henry came in; he had been seeing
+John put up the carriage. John had been busy, and Henry trying to
+help--so Henry was not like the boy who helped his brother to do
+nothing.
+
+"Well, Master Henry," said Miss Bessy, calling over to the other end of
+the table, "so you speak to my aunt, and say you are glad she is come,
+and you don't speak to me."
+
+"Because, ma'am----" Henry began.
+
+"Eh?" cried Miss Bessy, "don't call me ma'am;" and she burst into a
+giggle, which made Henry open his eyes and look very hard at her.
+
+This made her laugh the more; and, as she had her teacup in her hand,
+she spilt a quantity of tea on the unfortunate black frock.
+
+"Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche gently, "you had better set down your cup
+and wipe your frock, or I shall have to ask Mrs. Fairchild to lend you
+one of Henry's pinafores."
+
+"It is not hurt, aunt; it will all come out. I threw a cup of milk over
+it the other day, and no one could see the mark unless I stood quite
+opposite them, and they looked quite hard at it."
+
+"Well, then, Miss Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche, "when you wear that
+frock, or any other of your frocks which people should not look hard
+at, I would advise you to keep in the background."
+
+"Aunt is making sport of me, Mrs. Fairchild," said Bessy, with another
+giggle; "do you know what she means? She is advising me, in her cunning
+way, always to keep in the background of company."
+
+"Always?" said Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "why, have you not any dresses
+which would bear close inspection?"
+
+"Not many, I fear!" replied Miss Bessy; "I was always uncommon unlucky
+in tearing my clothes and getting them stained."
+
+"Suppose we say careless," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but it is no laughing
+matter, niece. Have you never heard the old saying, 'Wilful waste makes
+woful want'?"
+
+"Well, well," replied the niece, with something like a sigh, "I can't
+help it--I never could;" but before Mrs. Goodriche could say another
+word, she cried out, "You have got a magpie--have you not, Henry?"
+
+"How could you know that?" asked Henry.
+
+"Sukey told me," she answered, "and Mary Lampet told her. Mary was with
+the person who gave you the magpie, when she sent it to you."
+
+"Who is Mary Lampet?" said Henry.
+
+"One of Bessy's new friends," said Mrs. Goodriche; "a woman who
+sometimes comes for a day's work to my house."
+
+"And such a curious old body," said Miss Bessy; "she wears a blue
+striped petticoat, and she generally has a pipe in her mouth."
+
+"Never mind her, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche: "Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild and I have a good deal to say to each other; we do not often
+meet, and we wish to have our share of talking; it is not for one
+person, and that one of the youngest, to have all the talk to herself."
+
+Instead of noticing this remark, Miss Bessy looked round the table.
+
+"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," she said; "aunt, you are
+wrong, I am not one of the youngest; there are three older, and three
+younger than me. I am Jack in the middle; and therefore I have a right
+to talk to the old people, and to the young ones too; and therefore I
+may talk most."
+
+Henry was being gradually worked up by Miss Bessy to think that he
+might be as free as she was; and he began with, "Well now, is not that
+very odd?"
+
+"My dear Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "did not you hear Mrs. Goodriche
+say she thought that young people should not have all the talk to
+themselves?"
+
+"Don't scold him," said Bessy; "he meant no harm."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche looked distressed; her niece saw it, and was quiet for
+at least a minute or two, and then she began to talk again as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+When tea was over, and everybody risen from the table, before it was
+settled what was to be done next, Henry walked out through the glass
+doors into the garden--he was going to feed Mag.
+
+Bessy saw him, and called after him; he did not answer her--perhaps he
+did not hear her. She called again--he was farther off, and did not
+turn.
+
+"You little rogue!" she cried out; "but I will pay you;" and off she
+ran after him.
+
+He heard her step and her voice as she called him; he took to his heels
+through the shrubbery, and to the gate of the fold-yard--into the
+yard--round the barn--amongst the hay-ricks--across a new-mown field,
+and over a five-barred gate, using all his speed, and yet gaining no
+ground upon her; so back again then he came to where he knew John would
+be, and making up to him, he got so behind him that he put him between
+Bessy and himself.
+
+There the three were in the fold-yard, Bessy trying to catch Henry, who
+was dodging about round John, when Mr. Fairchild, who had followed
+Bessy, came up.
+
+"Miss Goodriche," he said, "let me lead you to your aunt, she is asking
+for you. My dear young lady," he added, drawing her a little aside,
+"let me venture to point out to you, as a father, that it is not
+becoming in a girl of your years to be romping with a servant man."
+
+"I was after Henry, sir!" she replied: "it was after him I was going,
+sir, I assure you."
+
+"I dare say you set off to run after Henry, my dear young lady," he
+replied; "but when I first saw you, you were pushing John about, first
+on one side and then on the other, in a way I should call romping; and
+am I not right when I say that I think, even now, you have not spoken
+one word to him, and that you only guess he is my servant John? What
+would you think, Miss Goodriche, if you were to see my daughter Lucy
+suddenly run and do the same by yonder labourer in that meadow?--and
+yet she may know him quite as well, if not better, than you do John."
+
+"La! Mr. Fairchild," cried Miss Bessy, laughing, "how you do put
+things! I never thought what I was doing. It must have looked uncommon
+strange, but I hope I shan't do it again."
+
+"Then you had better go in with me to your aunt, and if she approves,
+you shall help Lucy and Emily in their little gardens."
+
+[Illustration: "_Cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead
+leaves._"--Page 299.]
+
+Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche were only waiting for Miss Bessy to
+follow the little girls into the garden; and there, whilst they worked
+and chatted together, Lucy and Emily and Miss Goodriche were employed
+in cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead leaves from the
+ground.
+
+[Illustration: "_Off she ran after him._"--Page 295.]
+
+
+
+
+More about Bessy
+
+[Illustration: She saw Bessy amongst some gooseberry bushes]
+
+
+It may be supposed that Mrs. Goodriche gave some good advice to her
+niece whilst they were in their room, for Miss Bessy came down looking
+rather sulky, and said very little at breakfast; only that she
+attempted several times to hold discourse with Lucy in whispers, for
+which they were quietly called to order by Lucy's father.
+
+Mr. Fairchild said:
+
+"You must not whisper at table, my dears, for we are met to make
+ourselves agreeable either by talking or attentive listening."
+
+After breakfast Mrs. Fairchild said:
+
+"As we hope your visit, Mrs. Goodriche, will be a long one, we will, if
+you please, go on with our plans. I shall go into my school-room with
+my little girls, and leave you and Bessy to yourselves; you will see us
+again about twelve o'clock."
+
+"Very right," replied Mrs. Goodriche, with a smile; "and I trust that
+Bessy and I shall be as busy as you will be."
+
+So Mrs. Goodriche went to her room, and when she came back with two
+large bags and several books, there was no Miss Bessy to be found.
+
+She, however, was, for an old person, very active, with all her senses
+about her, and off she trotted after her niece, finding her, after some
+trouble, chattering to Mag, who was hung in a cage before the kitchen
+window. She brought her into the parlour, saying:
+
+"Come, niece, let us follow a good example, and make the best use of
+these quiet morning hours."
+
+Bessy muttered something which Mrs. Goodriche did not choose to hear,
+but when she got into the parlour, she threw herself back on the sofa
+as if she were dying of fatigue.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche handed a Bible to her, saying:
+
+"We will begin the morning with our best book: you shall read a chapter
+whilst I go on with my work; come, find your place--where did we leave
+off?"
+
+Bessy opened the Bible, fetching at the same time a deep sigh, and,
+after some minutes, began to read.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche could have sighed too, but she did not.
+
+Bessy was a most careless reader; she hated all books; indeed, her aunt
+thought that, from never having been exercised in anything but learning
+columns of spelling, she had hardly the power of putting any sense, in
+her own mind, to the simplest story-book which could be put into her
+hands.
+
+It was heavy work to sit and hear her blunder through a chapter; but,
+when that was finished, the kind aunt tried at some little explanation;
+after which she set her to write in a copy-book. Mrs. Goodriche
+dictated what she was to write: it was generally something of what she
+had herself said about the chapter; but what with blots, and bad
+spelling, and crooked lines, poor Bessy's book was not fit to be seen.
+
+This exercise filled up nearly an hour, and a most heavy hour it was:
+and then Mrs. Goodriche produced a story-book--one lent to her by Mrs.
+Fairchild--which, being rather of a large size, did not quite appear to
+be only fit for children; what this book was I do not know.
+
+"Now, my dear," she said, "you will have great pleasure in reading this
+book to me, I am sure; but before we begin I must fetch another bit of
+work: I have done what I brought down."
+
+"La!" said Miss Bessy, "how fond you are of sewing!"
+
+"Don't you remember, Bessy," replied Mrs. Goodriche, "that I never
+attend to anything you say when you begin with 'la'!"
+
+"We always said it at school," she answered.
+
+"May be so," replied Mrs. Goodriche, "and you may say it here, if you
+please; but, as I tell you, I shall never attend to anything you say
+when you put in any words of that kind."
+
+"La!" cried Miss Bessy again, really not knowing that she was saying
+the word.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche went up for her work, and when she returned, as she
+might have expected, her bird was flown; and when she looked for her,
+she saw her amongst some gooseberry bushes, feeding herself as fast as
+she could. When she got her into the parlour again, "Bessy," she said,
+"did you ever read the story of Dame Trot and her Cat?"
+
+"I know it," answered Bessy.
+
+"Now," added Mrs. Goodriche, "I am thinking that I am very like Dame
+Trot; she never left her house but she found her cat at some prank when
+she returned, and I never leave the room but I find you off and at
+some trick or another when I come back; but now for our book."
+
+Bessy, before she took her book, rubbed her hands down the sides of her
+frock to clean them from any soil they might have got from the
+gooseberries. It was a new black cotton, with small white spots, and
+was none the better for having been made a hand-towel.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche saw this neat trick, but she felt that if she found
+fault with everything amiss in her niece, she should have nothing else
+to do; so she let that pass.
+
+Bessy, at last, opened the book and began to read.
+
+The first story began with the account of a lady and gentleman who had
+one son and a daughter, of whom they were vastly fond, and whom they
+indulged in everything they could desire, which (as the writer sagely
+hinted) they had cause to repent before many years had passed.
+
+"Whilst their children were little, there was nothing in the shape of
+toys which were not got for them; dolls, whips, tops, carts, and all
+other sorts of playthings, were heaped up in confusion in their
+play-room; but they were not content with wooden toys--they had no
+delight in those but to break them in pieces. They were ever greedy
+after nice things to eat, and when they got them, made themselves often
+sick by eating too much of them. Once Master Tommy actually ate up----"
+
+In this place Bessy stopped to turn over a leaf with her thumb, and
+then went on, first repeating the last words of the first page.
+
+"--Master Tommy actually ate up the real moon out of the sky."
+
+"What! What!" cried Mrs. Goodriche; "ate the moon? Are you sure,
+Bessy?"
+
+[Illustration: "_'What! What!' cried Mrs. Goodriche._"--Page 305.]
+
+"Yes, it is here," replied Bessy; "the real moon out of the sky--these
+are the very words."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Goodriche; "dear child, you are reading nonsense;
+don't you perceive it?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Bessy, gaping; "I was not attending--what is
+it?"
+
+"Don't you know what you have been reading?" asked Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+"To be sure I do," answered Bessy, "or how could I have told the words
+right?"
+
+"But the sense?" asked Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+"I was not happening," replied Bessy, "just to be thinking about that.
+I was thinking just then, aunt, of the horrid fright Sukey was in when
+the bricks came rolling down, and how she did scream."
+
+"Give me the book," said Mrs. Goodriche, almost at the end of her
+patience; "we will read no more to-day; go up and fetch that
+unfortunate bombazine frock, it must be darned; you have no other here,
+or indeed made, but that you have on."
+
+Away ran Bessy, glad to be moving; and when Mrs. Goodriche had looked
+at the book, she found that Bessy had turned over two leaves,--that
+Tommy had once eaten a whole pound-cake in a very short time, and that
+he had cried the whole of the evening for the real moon out of the sky.
+
+It might have been thought, from the time that she was absent, that
+Bessy had gone to the top of the barn to fetch her frock; the truth is,
+that it was some time before she could find it; she had thrown it on
+the drawers when she had taken it off, and it had slipped down behind
+them, to use an expression of her own. It was all covered over with
+dust, and the trimming crumpled past recovery; but she gave it a good
+shaking, and down she came, not in the least troubled at the accident.
+When she got into the parlour, she found Lucy and Emily seated each
+with her small task of needlework; their other lessons were finished;
+and Mrs. Fairchild, too, appeared with her work.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche had desired to hear the story in Emily's new book, and
+they were each to read four pages at once, then to pass the book; and
+they had settled to begin with the eldest.
+
+"I always think," said Lucy, "that when everything is done but our
+work, it is so comfortable; and when there is to be reading, I work so
+fast."
+
+There was a little delay whilst Bessy was set to darn, and then Mrs.
+Goodriche read her four pages, and read them very pleasantly. The book
+was next given to Mrs. Fairchild, who passed it to Bessy.
+
+"Where does it begin?" she said.
+
+"At the top of the ninth page, Bessy," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+There was another pause; and then Bessy started much like a person
+running a race, reading as fast as she could, till, like the same
+runner, when he comes to a stumbling-stone, she broke down over the
+first hard word, which happened to be at the end of the second
+sentence.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild gently set her right, and she went on a little till she
+came to another word, which she miscalled, so that Mrs. Goodriche, who
+had not heard the story before, could not understand what she was
+reading about.
+
+Emily looked down, and became quite red.
+
+Lucy looked up full of wonder, and half inclined to smile; but a gentle
+look from her mother reminded her what civility and kindness required
+of her. Her mother's look seemed to say, "You ought to pity and not to
+laugh at one who has not been so well taught as yourself;" and she
+instantly looked down, and seemed to give her whole thoughts to her
+work.
+
+"Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche, "you had best pass the book to Lucy; I
+am sure that you will try to improve yourself against the next time you
+are asked to read aloud in company."
+
+"I shall never make much of reading, aunt," she answered carelessly; "I
+hate it so."
+
+The reading then went on till one o'clock, and there was enough of the
+story left for another day. The work was then put up, and the children
+were at liberty till dinner-time; but the day was very hot, so there
+could be no walk till the evening.
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Goodriche, "before we part, you shall see something
+out of this bag; it is full of pieces from my old great store-chest;
+there are three pieces of old brocade silk," and she spread them out on
+the table. They all looked as if they had been short sleeves; one was
+green, with purple and gold flowers as large as roses; another was
+pink, what is called _clouded_ with blue, green, and violet: and the
+third was dove-colour, with running stripes of satin. "Now," she said,
+"each of you, my little girls, shall have one of these pieces, and you
+shall make what you please of it; and when you have made the best you
+can of the silk, you shall show your work to me, and I shall see who is
+worthy of more pieces, for I have more in this bag."
+
+"If any of you, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "should want little
+bits of ribbon or lining to help out what you wish to make, I shall
+gladly supply them; indeed," she added, "I may as well give what may be
+wanted now;" and having fetched a bag of odds and ends, she gave out
+some bits of coloured ribbon to suit the silks, with sewing silks and
+linings, such as her bag would afford, placing her gifts in equal
+portions on the three pieces of silk.
+
+"And now," said Mrs. Goodriche, "who is to choose first?"
+
+"Lucy and Emily," said Bessy; and Lucy wished Bessy to choose first.
+After a little while this matter was settled; Emily had the green with
+the golden flowers, Lucy the clouded pink, and Bessy the striped; but
+before they took them from the table, Mrs. Goodriche told them that
+they were only to have them on these conditions--that they were not to
+consult each other about the use they were to make of them; nor to get
+anybody to help in cutting them out, and not to tell what they were
+doing till they brought what they had made to her.
+
+"Then, Lucy, you must not ask me," said Emily; "I will not ask you."
+
+"I shall make no inquiries," said Mrs. Fairchild; "you may work at your
+things in any of your play hours excepting the walking time. Emily may
+work in my room, and Lucy in her own, because you must not be together;
+and if I come into my room, I shall not look at what you are doing,
+Emily."
+
+Lucy and Emily took up their bits, all joy and delight, and full of
+thought; but Bessy was not so well pleased; she hated work as much as
+reading, and perhaps from the same reason, that she had neither got
+over the drudgery of work nor of reading. The beginning of all learning
+is dry, and stupid, and painful; but many things are delightful, when
+we can do them easily, which are most disagreeable when we first begin
+them.
+
+After this day, things passed on till the end of the week much as we
+have said. Lucy and Emily were always very busy in their different
+places, from dinner to tea-time. Henry was often, at those times, with
+John; and where Miss Bessy was Mrs. Goodriche did not know, because she
+had proposed to go and work in Henry's arbour. Her aunt could not
+follow her everywhere, so she only made herself sure that she did not
+go beyond the garden, and she did not ask whether she spent half her
+time in the kitchen, for she was not afraid that Betty would hurt her.
+
+"When am I to see the pieces of work?" said Mrs. Goodriche on the
+Saturday morning.
+
+"Before tea, ma'am," replied Lucy; "Emily and I are ready, but we don't
+know whether Bessy is--we can wait if she is not."
+
+"Oh, I am ready," answered Bessy; "my silk is done."
+
+The tea-things were on the table when Emily came in first with an open
+basket--whatever was in it was hidden by a piece of white paper. Lucy
+followed with a neat little parcel, carefully rolled up; and Bessy
+followed, with a hand in one of her pockets, and a smile on her face,
+though she looked red and rather confused.
+
+"I shall look at the little market-woman with her basket first," said
+Mrs. Goodriche; and Emily went up to her with a sweet pleasant smile,
+as if she felt sure that she had some very pretty things to show. She
+took up the white paper, and discovered three pin-cushions, very nicely
+made: they were so contrived that there was a gold and purple flower in
+the centre of each pin-cushion on both sides: the cushions were square,
+well stuffed, and pinched in the middle of each side; they had a tassel
+at every corner, made of the odd bits of silk roved, and to each of
+them was a long bit of ribbon. Emily's face flushed like a rosebud when
+she laid them on the table. "Very, very good," said Mrs. Goodriche;
+"and you did them all yourself?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Emily. "I made the insides first, and stuffed them
+with bran, before I put the silk on."
+
+"Now for Lucy," said Mrs. Goodriche; and Lucy, opening her parcel,
+showed an old-fashioned housewife with many pockets: she had managed
+her silk so, that the clouds upon it formed borders for the outside
+and each pocket; she had overcast a piece of flannel for the needles,
+and put a card under that part of the housewife; she had lined it to
+make it strong, and had put some ribbon to tie it with, and had made a
+case for it of printed calico, and a button and a button-hole.
+
+"Very, very good, too," said Mrs. Goodriche; "let it be placed by the
+pin-cushions; and now for Bessy."
+
+Bessy began to giggle and to move herself about in a very uneasy way.
+
+"If you have nothing to show, Bessy," said her aunt; "or if you are not
+ready, we will excuse you."
+
+"It does not signify," answered Bessy, "I am as ready now as I ever
+shall be. I can make nothing of the silk."
+
+"Have you lost it?" asked her aunt.
+
+"No," she answered; "I have it--you may as well see it at once;" and
+diving again into her pocket, she brought out what looked very like a
+piece of blotting-paper which had been well used, and laid it on the
+table. "I could not help it," she said; "but I had it on the table one
+morning, when I was in this room alone, and I tumbled over the inkstand
+right upon it; and I thought it was lucky that almost all the ink had
+fallen on the silk, and not on the cloth; so, as it was spoiled
+already, I used it to wipe up the rest of the ink, and that is the
+whole truth."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche, though vexed, could not keep herself from smiling,
+which Bessy seeing, tried to turn the whole affair into a laugh; but it
+was not a merry laugh.
+
+"Well, take it away, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche; "put it by to wipe
+your pens with;" and away ran Bessy out of the room, not to laugh when
+by herself, but to cry: and this, we are glad to say, was not the first
+time that the poor motherless girl had shed tears for her own follies
+within the last day or two.
+
+When she had left the room, Mrs. Goodriche said:
+
+"Poor young creature! I am sorry for her."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Lucy, "because she has had no mamma for many years;
+but Emily and I begin to love her, she is so good-tempered."
+
+"God will bless her," said Mrs. Fairchild; "He has shown His love by
+giving her a friend who will be a mother to her."
+
+"But now, my little girls," said Mrs. Goodriche, "these things which
+you have made so prettily are your own."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," they both answered; "and may we do what we like
+with them?"
+
+"To be sure," replied Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+"Then," said Emily, "I shall give one to Mary Bush, and another to
+Margery, and another to Mrs. Trueman, for their best pin-cushions."
+
+"And I shall give this housewife to nurse," said Lucy.
+
+"I suppose," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that you will like to have them
+furnished for the poor women; I will give what pins and needles can be
+found on Monday morning; and at the same time I have for each of you a
+piece of nice flowered chintz for your dolls."
+
+The little girls kissed the old lady with all their hearts, and ran
+away with the things which they had made: it was agreed that they were
+not to talk of them again before Bessy.
+
+
+
+
+Bessy's Misfortunes
+
+[Illustration: Bessy was crying most piteously]
+
+
+The Sunday morning was very fine, and there was a nice large party
+going to church together. We have not mentioned Mr. Somers lately, but
+he was still there, and very much beloved. His mother had lately come
+to live with him; she was a very old friend of Mrs. Goodriche, and when
+the two old ladies saw each other from their pews, they were vastly
+pleased. They hastened to meet each other after service; and Mrs.
+Somers begged all Mrs. Goodriche's party to come into the Parsonage
+House, which was close to the church.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild said there were too many for all to go in; so she
+directed Betty to see the young ladies home: they had some way to walk,
+but had hardly got out of the village when Betty said:
+
+"We shall surely have a shower--we shall be caught in the rain if we
+are not sharp."
+
+"May we run, Betty?" asked Lucy and Emily; and having got leave, they
+set off at full speed, and got into the house just in time.
+
+"Come, Miss Goodriche," said Betty; "you can run, I know, as well as
+the best of them, so why don't you set off too? As for me, I have not
+got my best bonnet on, for I foresaw there would be showers, and I have
+nothing else that can hurt. A very few drops would make that pretty
+crape bonnet of yours not fit to be seen."
+
+"We shall be at home before the rain comes," said Bessy; "and I am sure
+that if it is only a few drops they will not hurt my bonnet; I want to
+stay with you. I want to ask you about the people I saw at church.
+Come, now, tell me, Betty, what was that family that sat just before
+us?"
+
+Betty was walking away as fast as she could, and she answered:
+
+"Miss, I can't stop to talk--it has begun to rain behind us on the
+hills; we shall have it in no time; and there is no house this way to
+run into."
+
+"O la! Betty," cried Miss Bessy next; "my shoe-string is unpinned: do,
+for pity, lend me a big pin."
+
+"Why, Miss," said Betty, "sure you don't pin your shoe-strings?"
+
+"Only when I am in a hurry," she answered.
+
+Betty found a pin, and the shoe was put to rights as well as might be;
+but two minutes at least were lost whilst this was being done.
+
+"Now come on, Miss, as fast as you can," said Betty; "the drops are
+already falling on the dust at our feet."
+
+They went on a few paces without another word, and then Miss Bessy
+screamed:
+
+"Oh, Betty, the other string has gone snap: have you another pin?"
+
+"Miss, Miss!" said Betty, fumbling for a pin, and in her hurry not
+being able to find one. Once more Miss Bessy was what soldiers call in
+marching order, and they made, may be, a hundred paces, without any
+other difficulty but the falling of the rain, though as yet it was only
+the skirts of the shower. The house was in view, and was not distant
+three hundred yards by the road, and somewhat less over a field.
+
+"Let us go over the field," said Bessy.
+
+"No, no," replied Betty, bustling on. "If the gate on the other side
+should be locked--and John often keeps it so--we should be quite at
+fault."
+
+"And what sort of a gate must it be," said Bessy, "that you and I could
+not get over?"
+
+"We had better keep the road, Miss," replied Betty; "the grass must be
+wet already with the little rain which is come."
+
+"And yet it has scarce laid the dust in the road," returned Bessy; "so
+if you choose to keep to the road, I shall take the field; so good-bye
+to you;" and the next minute she was over the stile, and running across
+the grass.
+
+Betty looked after her a minute, and then saying, "Those who have the
+care of you have their hands full," she hurried on; but with all her
+haste she was like one who had been dipped in a well before she got in.
+
+Almost the moment in which the two had parted, the shower had come down
+in right good earnest, driving and gathering and splashing the dust up
+on Betty's white stockings, and causing her to be very glad that she
+had not put on her best-made bonnet and new black ribbons. Betty had
+never worn a coloured bonnet in her life.
+
+In the meantime Miss Bessy was flying along the field, throwing up the
+wet at every step from the long grass. The pins in her shoes at first
+acted as spurs, pricking her for many steps, and then crooking and
+giving way; so that she had the comfort of running slipshod the rest of
+the way. Her shoes, being of stuff, were so thoroughly soaked, in a
+little time, that they became quite heavy. The gate at the end of the
+field was locked, of course; who ever came to the end of a field in a
+pelting shower, and did not find it locked? It was a five-barred gate,
+and Bessy could have got over it easily if John had not most carefully
+interlaced the two upper bars with thorns and brambles--for what
+purpose we don't know, but so it was.
+
+Bessy tried to pull some of them out, and in so doing thoroughly soaked
+her gloves, and then only succeeded in pulling aside one or two of
+them; but she mounted the gate, and in coming down, her foot slipping,
+she fell flat on the ground, leaving part of her frock on the thorns,
+which at the time she did not perceive.
+
+"It can't be helped," she thought, as she rose again, and ran on to the
+house without further misfortune. She thought herself lucky in getting
+in by the front door without being seen; and her aunt was not at home,
+which was another piece of luck, she believed; and she hastened to
+change her dress, cramming all her wet things into a closet in the room
+used for hanging up frocks and gowns when taken off. She did not, as it
+happened, throw her frock and bonnet on the floor of the closet; and
+she thought she had been very careful when she hung the frock on a peg
+and the bonnet over it. She had some trouble in getting off her wet
+gloves, which stuck as close to her hands as if they had been part of
+them; and these, with the shoes and other inferior parts of her dress,
+found their places on the floor of the closet. They were all out of the
+way before her aunt could come; for though it had ceased to rain as
+soon as she came in, she knew it would take some time for the walk from
+the Parsonage House.
+
+Such good use did Bessy make of her time that she had clean linen and
+her everyday gown on before Mrs. Goodriche came in.
+
+The first inquiry which Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche made was
+whether the young people and Betty had escaped the shower. Lucy, who
+knew no more than that they had all come in soon after each other,
+answered:
+
+"Oh yes, but we had a run for it."
+
+Betty was not there to tell her story, and Bessy thought it was quite
+as well to let the affair pass.
+
+Thoughtful people often wonder how giddy ones can be so thoughtless as
+they are, and giddy ones wonder how their thoughtful friends can attend
+to so many things as they do. Many persons are naturally thoughtless,
+but this fault may be repaired by management in childhood. Poor Bessy
+had had no such careful management; and her carelessness had come to
+such a pass, that from the time in which she had hung up her wet and
+spoiled clothes in the closet, she troubled herself about them no more
+till the time came when she wanted to put them on.
+
+Still, she learned much, as it proved, from the misfortunes of that
+Sunday. After dinner it began to pour again, and Mrs. Fairchild took
+Bessy with her own children into a quiet room, and there she read the
+Bible and talked to them. Having been well used to talk to children and
+young people, she made all she said so pleasant, that Bessy was quite
+surprised when Betty knocked at the door and said tea was ready.
+
+The rest of the Sunday evening passed off so very pleasantly that even
+Bessy yawned only three times, and that was just before supper--and yet
+it rained--rained--rained.
+
+The next morning rose in great brightness, promising a charming day.
+The forenoon was spent as usual; and after the lessons and work, Mrs.
+Goodriche furnished the pin-cushions and the housewife, and gave out
+the two pieces of chintz for the dolls' frocks; and so busy were the
+old lady and the little girls, that it was time to lay the cloth for
+dinner before the things were quite put away.
+
+Whilst all this business was going on, Bessy was somewhere about in the
+garden.
+
+Now it was not a very common thing for a loud knock to be heard at Mr.
+Fairchild's door. But it was Mr. Somers who knocked, and he came in all
+in a hurry. He came to say that a lady, who lived about two miles
+distant in another parish, had called. He told the lady's name to Mrs.
+Fairchild: and Mrs. Fairchild said she knew her, though they had not
+visited. This lady had a nice house and a pretty orchard; and she had
+come, only an hour before, to say that Miss Pimlico, with all her young
+ladies, were coming to spend the evening with her, and that they were
+to have tea in the open air, and to amuse themselves in any way they
+liked. The lady hoped that Mr. Somers and his mother would come, and
+that they would, if possible, bring with them Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild
+and their nice children, and make a pleasant evening of it.
+
+"We told her that Mrs. Goodriche and her niece were at Mr.
+Fairchild's," added Mr. Somers; "and she said, 'Let them come also, by
+all means; the more the merrier;' and then she kindly entered into what
+carriages we could muster.
+
+"I told her," he continued, "that Mr. Fairchild had a carriage which
+would hold two grown-up persons and three little ones, and that mine
+could do as much if needful; proving that we had even one seat to
+spare--so come, you must all go. Mrs. Goodriche and my mother shall
+have the back seat of my carriage, and I shall make interest for Miss
+Lucy to sit by me in the front seat."
+
+All the children present looked anxiously to hear Mr. Fairchild's
+answer, and glad were they when they heard him say, "At what hour
+should we be ready?"
+
+"At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and Miss Lucy," said
+Mr. Somers. "I have a poor woman to call on by the way, if this lady
+does not object. We may therefore set out about half an hour before
+you. So now, good-bye;" and he walked away.
+
+[Illustration: "_At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and
+Miss Lucy._"--Page 321.]
+
+How merry and happy were the faces round the table at dinner! Mrs.
+Goodriche and Lucy had only just time to get ready before Mr. Somers
+came for them.
+
+When they were gone the rest of the party found it was time to get
+dressed. John brought the carriage to the gate at the time fixed; and
+Henry, who had been watching for it ever since he had been dressed,
+came in to give notice. Emily and her father immediately went to the
+gate; and Mrs. Fairchild, thinking that Bessy might want a little
+attention and help, went to her room. As she knocked at the door she
+thought she heard low sobs within; she called Bessy twice, and no
+answer being given she walked in.
+
+There was a sight indeed! Bessy was sitting at the foot of the bed
+without a frock, and sobbing and crying most piteously. On the floor,
+on one side of her, were her best shoes, shrunk up and wrinkled and
+covered with mud in the most extraordinary way. In another part of the
+floor lay the unfortunate frock, all draggled and splashed round the
+bottom, and, as Mrs. Fairchild could see without lifting it up, wanting
+a part of one breadth. On the drawers was the bonnet, which was of
+reeved crape made upon wire, and not one at all suited for a careless
+girl; but it was made by a milliner at Plymouth. What with soaking,
+crumpling, and here and there a rent from some bough, it had lost all
+appearance of what it had been: it looked a heap of old crape gathered
+carelessly together; and the pair of gloves, much in the state of the
+shoes, were lying near the bonnet on the drawers.
+
+"Oh, ma'am! Oh, Mrs. Fairchild!" cried the unfortunate Bessy, "what can
+I do? What shall I do?"
+
+Mrs. Fairchild lifted up the dress, but as hastily laid it down again,
+for she saw it would take some hours to make it fit to be worn. The
+bonnet, shoes, and gloves all equally required time and attention.
+
+"I am afraid," she said kindly, "it will not do for you to attempt to
+put on these things; and, what is worse, I have none that will fit you.
+My dresses are as much too large as Lucy's are too small."
+
+"Oh, do, dear Mrs. Fairchild," cried the sobbing Bessy, "at least, let
+me try one of your gowns."
+
+Though aware the attempt would be useless, the kind lady brought one of
+her white dresses, to see if anyhow it could be made to fit; but even
+Bessy, after a while, acknowledged it would not do, being so very much
+too large for her.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild next examined the young lady's everyday cotton; but,
+alas! that was too dirty to think of its being shown beside the best
+dresses of the other little misses. Then, too, if a dress could have
+been procured, bonnet, shoes, and gloves would have also been
+requisite; and these could not have been obtained even amongst Miss
+Bessy's own clothes; for if her best were unfit to be seen, her
+commoner ones were scarce worth picking up in the street.
+
+"It will not do, I see," said Miss Bessy; "you had better go without
+me, Mrs. Fairchild."
+
+"I am afraid it must be as you say," replied that lady, "and most
+sincerely sorry am I for you, my dear."
+
+So saying, she left the room, and then came another burst of tears, and
+more sobs, for three or four minutes afterwards.
+
+Bessy, who still sat on the bed, heard the carriage drive away. "Oh,
+how cruel!" she thought, or rather spoke--"how cruel of Mrs. Fairchild
+to go away, and hardly to say one word to me! But I know she despises
+me; she can think nobody worth anything but her own children:" then
+there was another burst of tears, and more sobs.
+
+After a little time, all spent in crying, she heard her door open
+again, and turning round, she saw Mrs. Fairchild come in without her
+bonnet, in her usual dress, and with a work-bag in her hand. She came
+straight up to the weeping girl, and kissing her, "Now, Bessy," she
+said, "wipe away those tears, and we will have a happy and, I hope,
+useful evening. Betty will be ready to help us immediately, and we
+shall set to work and see what we can do in putting your things to
+rights. The carriage is gone with all the rest of the party, and I have
+sent a message to your aunt by Mr. Fairchild. He will make the best of
+the affair, and if you will help, we will try to put all these things
+to rights."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Fairchild," said Bessy, throwing herself into her arms, "and
+have you given up your pleasure for such a naughty girl as I am?"
+
+"I have given up no pleasure so great as I shall receive, dear Miss
+Goodriche, if I can see you trying to do right this evening: trying for
+once to work hard, and to overcome those habits which give your aunt so
+much pain. Come, put on your frock, and let us set to work
+immediately."
+
+The eyes of poor Bessy again filled with tears, but they were tears of
+gratitude and love; and she hastened to put on her frock, and then do
+anything which Mrs. Fairchild directed: and, first of all, the crape
+trimmings were taken from the bonnet and the skirt of the frock; Betty
+was then called, and she took them to her kitchen to do what might be
+done to restore them. The shoes were sent to John to stretch on a last,
+and to brush; and Mrs. Fairchild produced some pieces of bombazine from
+her store, and having matched the colours as well as she could, she
+carefully pinned the piecing, and gave it to Bessy to sew.
+
+Poor Bessy's fingers had never plied so quickly and so carefully
+before. They were put in motion by a feeling of the warmest gratitude
+and love for Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+No punishment, no severity, could have produced the effect wrought by
+this well-timed kindness of Mrs. Fairchild; and it gave to her the
+sweetest hopes of poor Bessy, when she observed how strongly and deeply
+she felt that kindness.
+
+They worked and talked till tea-time, and after tea they set to work
+again. Betty came up about seven o'clock with the crape and the bonnet,
+the plaitings of which--for it was a reeved bonnet--she had smoothed
+with a small Italian iron, and restored wonderfully. Then she sat down
+and sewed with Miss Bessy at the frock, whilst Mrs. Fairchild trimmed
+the bonnet.
+
+At eight o'clock the work was got on so finely that Bessy cried out:
+
+"Another half-hour, if they will but stay away, and it will be done;
+and oh, how I do thank you, dear Mrs. Fairchild, and dear Betty! I will
+really try in future to do better; I never wished to do better as I do
+now."
+
+"There is an early moon, miss," said Betty; "I should not wonder if
+they stayed till it was up."
+
+It struck nine, and they were not come; another five minutes and the
+work was finished. Bessy jumped up from the foot of the bed and kissed
+Mrs. Fairchild first, and then Betty; and then came a bustle to put
+everything away.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild showed Bessy how to lay aside her bonnet in the bandbox,
+and her frock in a drawer, with a clean handkerchief over each. The
+tippet, which was the only one thing which had escaped mischief, for
+the plain reason that it had not been worn on the Sunday with the
+frock, was laid in the same drawer; and then the needles and silk and
+cotton were collected, and the bits and shreds picked up, and the room
+restored to order as if nothing wonderful had happened.
+
+The last thing Mrs. Fairchild did in that room was to take up the
+gloves and give them to Betty, to see what could be done with them the
+next day, and then she, with the happy young girl, put on shawls and
+walked on the gravel before the house, for it was still hot.
+
+"Well, we have had a happy, happy evening, dear Mrs. Fairchild," said
+Bessy; "I never thought I should love you so much."
+
+The party did not come home till ten o'clock; they had had such an
+evening as Lucy and Emily had never known before; but they had often
+thought of poor Bessy, and wished for her many times, and their mother
+too. Mrs. Goodriche had also been uneasy about Bessy. How surprised,
+then, they were to see her looking so cheerful, and Mrs. Fairchild also
+seeming to be equally happy.
+
+"I will tell you all about it when we get to our room, aunt," whispered
+Bessy; "but I do not deserve such kindness. Mrs. Fairchild says I had
+better not speak about it now."
+
+They had had tea and a handsome supper; so when they had talked the
+evening over, and Mr. Fairchild had read a chapter, they all went to
+their rooms.
+
+
+
+
+The History of Little Bernard Low
+
+[Illustration: Bessy was very sorry to leave her young friends]
+
+
+The rest of Mrs. Goodriche's visit passed off very quietly and very
+pleasantly. Bessy became from day to day more manageable, and Lucy and
+Emily began to love her very much.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche was inquiring everywhere for a house close by, and there
+was none which seemed as if it could be made to suit her. She and Bessy
+returned home therefore at the end of a fortnight, and Bessy was very
+sorry to leave her young friends.
+
+It was four or five days after Mrs. Goodriche had left them before Mr.
+Fairchild proposed that they should read that famous book which Henry
+talked so much about.
+
+"But where shall we go to read it?" he asked.
+
+"Oh! to the hut in the wood, papa, if you please," answered Lucy; and
+in less than an hour everybody was ready to set out: and when everybody
+was seated as they had been the time before, the book was opened, and
+Lucy waited to read only till Henry and Emily had seen the picture at
+the beginning. I will tell you what the picture was when we come to the
+place of it in the story.
+
+
+The History of Little Bernard Low
+
+_THE STORY IN HENRY'S BOOK_
+
+"Mr. Low was a clergyman, and had a good living in that part of this
+country where the hills of Wales extend towards the plains of England,
+forming sweet valleys, often covered with woods, and rendered fruitful
+and beautiful by rills which have their sources in the distant hills.
+
+"Mr. Low never had but one brother; this brother had been a wild boy,
+and had run away many years before, and never had been heard of since.
+
+"The name of the valley in which Mr. Low's living was situated was
+Rookdale; his own house stood alone amongst woods and waterfalls, but
+there was a village nearer to the mouth of the valley, and in that
+village, besides some farmers and many cottagers, lived another
+clergyman of the name of Evans. He was a worthy humble man, and came
+from the very wildest parts of Wales. He was a needy man, and was
+forced to work hard to get a decent living for himself, his sister,
+Miss Grizzy Evans, and an orphan nephew, Stephen Poppleton. Mr. Low
+gave him fifty pounds a year to help him in the care of his parish,
+which spread far and wide over the high grounds which surrounded
+Rookdale; and he added something to his gains by teaching the children
+of the farmers in the parish, and by taking in two or three boys as
+boarders; he could not take many, because his house was small and
+inconvenient. We shall know more of Mr. Evans when we have read the few
+next pages.
+
+"Mr. Low's living was a very good one, and brought in much money. The
+house too was good, and he kept several servants, and lived
+handsomely. He had had four children, but two of them were dead. Mr.
+Low had but one daughter, her name was Lucilla; and the two eldest were
+sons, Alfred and Henry. Henry died a baby, but Alfred lived till he was
+eight years old, and then died, and was buried by the side of his
+infant brother. The fourth and last child of Mr. and Mrs. Low was
+Bernard; he was more than five years younger than Lucilla.
+
+"When Bernard was born, it seemed as if no one could make too much of
+him. The old woman, Susan Berkley, who had been Mr. Low's own nurse,
+and had always lived in the family, was so fond of Bernard that she
+could not refuse him anything; and Mrs. Low was what people call so
+wrapped up in her boy, that she could never make enough of him. In this
+respect she was very weak, but those who have lost children well know
+how strong the temptation is to over-indulge those who are left. At
+first Mr. Low did not observe how far these plans of indulgence were
+being carried; indeed, he did not open his eyes fully to the mischief
+till Bernard was become one of the most troublesome, selfish boys in
+the whole valley. At five years old he was the torment of the whole
+house, though even then he was cunning enough to hide some of his worst
+tempers from his father. He had found out that when he pretended to be
+ill, mother, nurse, and sister were all frightened out of their senses,
+and that at such times he could get his way in everything, however
+improper. He did not care what pain he gave them if he could get what
+he wanted.
+
+"His father, however, did at length find out the mischief that was
+going on; and as he feared that his wife and nurse would not have the
+firmness to check the boy if he remained always at home, he proposed
+that Bernard should be sent as a day boarder to Mr. Evans. His father
+wished that he should go every morning after breakfast, dine at school,
+and return to tea.
+
+"'I have been much to blame,' said Mr. Low, 'in not speaking before of
+the way in which Bernard has been managed. I blame myself greatly for
+this neglect, and I now feel that no more time must be lost; and I
+think it will be easier for us to part with him for a few hours every
+day, than to send him to a distance.'
+
+"Mrs. Low was a gentle person, and wished to do right; she shed tears,
+but made no resistance. Lucilla thought that her papa was right; she
+had lately seen how naughty Bernard was getting; so Mr. Low had no
+opposition either from his wife or daughter. When nurse, however, was
+told that her darling was to go to school to Parson Evans, she was very
+angry; and though she did not dare to speak her mind to her master, she
+had no fear of telling it to her mistress and the young lady.
+
+"'Well, to be sure,' she said, 'master has curious notions, to think of
+sending such a delicate babe as Master Bernard to be kicked about by a
+parcel of boys, and to be made to eat anything that's set before him,
+whether he likes it or not. So good a child as he is too: so meek and
+so tender, that if he but suspects a cross word, he is ready to jump
+out of himself, and falls a-crying and quaking, and won't be appeased
+anyhow, till the fit's over with him. Indeed, mistress, if you give him
+up in this point, I won't say what the consequences may be.'
+
+"'But, nurse,' said Lucilla, 'really Bernard does want to be kept a
+little in order.'
+
+"'And that from you, Miss?' answered the nurse; 'what would you feel,
+was you to see him laid in his grave beside his precious little
+brothers?'
+
+"Lucilla could not answer this question, and Mrs. Low could not speak
+for weeping; so nurse was left to say all she chose; and as Bernard
+came in before she had cooled herself down, she told him what was
+proposed, and said it would break her heart to part with him only for a
+few hours every day.
+
+"On hearing this, Bernard thought it a proper occasion to show off his
+meek spirit, and so much noise did he make, and so rebellious and
+stubborn was his behaviour, that his father, who heard him from a
+distance, made up his mind to go that very evening to speak about him
+to Mr. Evans. Mr. Low did not find the worthy man at home; he had
+walked out with his nephew and three boys who boarded in the house; but
+Mr. Low found Miss Evans in a small parlour, dressed, as she always was
+in an evening, with some pretensions to fashion and smartness: she was
+very busy with a huge basket of stockings, which she was mending.
+
+"When Mr. Low told her his business, she was quite delighted, for she
+had lived in that humble village till she thought Mr. Low one of the
+greatest men in the world, because she never saw any greater. She
+answered for her brother that he would receive Master Bernard and give
+him every care; 'and for me, sir,' she added, 'I promise you that the
+young gentleman shall have the best of everything our poor table will
+afford.'
+
+"'I wish,' replied Mr. Low, 'that he may be treated exactly as the
+other boys, my good madam, and no bustle whatever made with him.'
+
+"Soon after Mr. Low was gone, Mr. Evans and his nephew, and three
+pupils, passed the parlour window. Miss Grizzy tapped on the glass, and
+beckoned to her brother to come to her, which he did, immediately
+followed by his nephew.
+
+"'Who do you think has been here, brother, whilst you have been out?'
+said she; 'who but Mr. Low?' and she told him what Mr. Low had come
+for, and that she had undertaken that Master Bernard should be
+received.
+
+"'Very good, sister,' replied Mr. Evans, 'all is well;' and he went out
+again at the parlour door, seeming to be much pleased. Stephen remained
+behind, and the moment the door was shut, he said:
+
+"'You seem to be much set up, Aunt Grizzy, at the thought of this boy's
+coming; you must know, surely, that he is a shocking spoiled child, and
+that there will be no possibility of pleasing him.'
+
+"'We must try, however,' answered Miss Evans; 'I know, as well as you
+can do, what he is, a little proud, petted, selfish thing: for is he
+not the talk of the parish? I have often wondered how Mr. Low could
+have been so long blind to the need of sending him to school; but then
+think, nephew, Mr. Low offers as much as if the boy boarded here
+entirely, and he is only to dine; and I doubt not but that there will
+be pretty presents too--you know that both Mr. and Mrs. Low are very
+thoughtful in that way.'
+
+"'But if you can't keep the little plague in good humour,' answered
+Stephen, 'instead of presents we may have disputes and quarrels; and
+where will you be then, aunt?'
+
+"'I hope, Stephen, that you will not be creating these quarrels; that
+you will bear and forbear, and pay Master Low proper respect, and see
+that Meekin and Griffith and Price do the same: you know well that not
+one of them are of such high families as Master Low.'
+
+"'You had best not say that to Griffith, aunt,' answered Stephen; 'he
+has a very high notion, I can tell you, of his family, though his
+father is only a shopkeeper.'
+
+"Miss Evans put up her lip and said:
+
+"'Well, mind me, Stephen, no quarrelling, I say, with Master Low, at
+least on your part; so now walk off to your place.'
+
+"When nurse had said all that was in her mind, she became more calm
+upon the subject of Bernard's going to school; and so thoroughly did
+the child tease during the few days that passed before he went, that
+she was almost obliged to confess to herself that it was not altogether
+a very bad thing that he was to have lessons to learn, and some
+employment from home during part of every day.
+
+"But when Bernard was actually to go, there was such a to-do about it,
+that he might just as well have stayed at home, as to any good which
+might be expected from it in the way of making him think less of
+himself.
+
+[Illustration: "_But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a
+to-do about it._"--Page 332.]
+
+"Lucilla had had a little pony for several years; this pony was to be
+saddled for Bernard, and he was to ride to and from school, whilst a
+servant attended him. His mother took the occasion to send a present of
+fruit and nice vegetables by this servant to Miss Grizzy; and there was
+a note written to Mr. Evans all about Bernard, and a great deal said in
+it about getting his feet wet; and shoes were sent that he might change
+them when he came in from play. Nurse also was sent down about two
+hours after him, with some messages to Miss Evans and to hear how the
+darling got on.
+
+"Bernard was very sulky all that first morning. He was quite eight
+years old; Mr. Evans therefore was much surprised at his being a very
+poor reader. Indeed he could not in any way stammer out the first
+chapter in the Bible, and Mr. Evans was obliged to put him into the
+spelling-book at the first page. He called him up between each Latin
+lesson he gave, but found that each time he called him, he read rather
+worse than the time before. The simple truth is that he did not choose
+to do better.
+
+"Griffith whispered to Meekin, the last time Bernard was up, 'Mind what
+I say, he is no better than a fool;' and Meekin passed the same words
+to Price, and then it was a settled thing with these three boys, that
+Bernard Low was a fool, and a very proper person to play any fun upon.
+
+"But whilst these boys were settling this matter amongst them, Miss
+Grizzy had sent for Stephen into the parlour, and given him some of the
+fine pears and walnuts which Mrs. Low had sent.
+
+"'Here, nephew,' she said, 'is the earnest of many more little presents
+which we may expect; but everything depends on your behaviour to the
+boy. We must keep him in good humour--we must show him every possible
+favour in a quiet way, and you must not let Griffith and the others
+tease him.'
+
+"'This is an uncommon good pear,' said Stephen, as he bit a great piece
+out of one of them.
+
+"'Is it not?' replied his aunt; 'but, Stephen, do you hear me? you must
+not let Griffith be playing his tricks on Master Low.'
+
+"'I understand,' answered Stephen, taking another bite at the pear.
+'Don't you think I know on which side my bread is buttered yet, aunt?'
+he asked; 'though I am near fifteen years of age, and half through
+Homer? but you must allow that Bernard Low is an abominably
+disagreeable fellow, and one that one should like to duck in a
+horse-pond--a whining, puling, mother-spoiled brat; however, I will see
+that he shan't be quizzed to his face, and I suppose that's all you
+require, is not it?'
+
+"So he put all that remained of what his aunt had given him of the
+fruit into his pocket, for himself, and left the room. He went straight
+to the yard where the boys played, and scarcely got there in time to
+hinder Griffith from beginning his tricks with Bernard, for he had got
+a piece of whipcord, and was insisting that the boy should be tied with
+it between Meekin and Price, and that they should be the team and he
+the driver; and a pretty run would the first and last horse have given
+the middle one, had Griffith's plan been executed.
+
+"Bernard was already beginning to whine and put his finger in his eye,
+when Stephen came in and called out:
+
+"'Eh, what's that there? David Griffith, let the child alone; he has
+not been used to your horseplay.'
+
+"And as Stephen was much bigger and stronger than the other boys, they
+all thought it best to give way.
+
+"Bernard was let off, and he walked away, not in the best of tempers,
+into the house, and into Miss Evans's own parlour, where she was seated
+at her usual employment, darning stockings.
+
+"'Well, Master Low,' she said, 'I hope you find everything agreeable; I
+am sure it shall not be my fault if you do not; you have only to say
+the word and anything you don't like shall be changed, if it is in my
+power.'
+
+"'I don't like that boy,' answered Bernard; 'that David Griffith.'
+
+"'Never mind him, never mind him, Master Low,' replied Miss Evans; 'any
+time that he don't make himself agreeable, only come to me; I am always
+glad to see you here to sit in my parlour, and warm yourself if it is
+cold. You know how much I respect your papa and mamma; there is nothing
+I would not do for them.'
+
+"Bernard had been so much used to flattery and fond words, that he did
+not value them at all; he thought that they were only his due; and he
+did not so much as say 'Thank you' to Miss Evans, nor even look smiling
+nor pleasant; but he walked up to her round table, and curiously eyed
+the large worsted stocking which she was darning--'Whose is that?' he
+said.
+
+"'My brother's, Master Low,' she answered.
+
+"'Does he wear such things as those?' said Bernard; 'but I suppose he
+must, because he is poor, and a curate, and a schoolmaster--my papa
+wears silk.'
+
+"'Your papa,' said Miss Evans, 'is a rich man, Master Low, and a
+rector; and he can afford many things we must not think of.'
+
+"'When shall we dine?' asked the boy.
+
+"'Very soon, my dear,' answered Miss Evans.
+
+"And then Master Bernard turned off to some other question, as
+impertinently expressed as those he had put before.
+
+"The dinner was set out in the room used for a schoolroom; an
+ill-shaped room, with walls that had been washed with salmon colour,
+but which were all scratched and inked. Each boy had a stool to sit
+upon; the cloth was coarse, though clean, and all the things set upon
+the table were coarse also.
+
+"When called to dinner by a rough maidservant, Miss Evans led Bernard
+in by the hand, and set him by herself on a chair at the _head_ of the
+table.
+
+"'Sister,' said Mr. Evans, in a low voice, 'last come, last
+served--Master Low should sit below Price.'
+
+"'Leave me to judge for myself, brother,' answered Miss Evans; 'you may
+depend on my judgment.'
+
+"And Bernard kept his seat, and had the nicest bits placed on his
+plate.
+
+"Bernard would have been quite as well contented, or, perhaps we may
+say, not in the least more discontented, had he been set down at once
+in his proper place, and served after the other boys.
+
+"Then the other boys were not quite pleased; but Stephen was told to
+tell them that Master Low was a parlour-boarder; and though they did
+not quite understand what a parlour-boarder meant, they thought it
+meant something, and that Bernard was to have some indulgences which
+they were not to have.
+
+"Many a trick would they have played him, no doubt, if Stephen had not
+watched them. But as Stephen hated the spoiled child as much as they
+did, he never hindered their speaking ill of him, and quizzing him,
+when he did not hear or understand.
+
+"Griffith soon gave him a nickname--this name was Noddy; there was no
+wit in it, but the boys found great amusement in talking of this Noddy,
+and of all his faults and follies, before the face of Bernard himself.
+When he asked who this Noddy was, they told him that they were sure he
+must have seen him very often, for his family lived at Rookdale.
+
+"Mr. Evans himself was the only person in the family at school who
+really strove to do his duty by Bernard--he gave his heart to improve
+him; and he did get him on in his learning more than might have been
+expected. But there were too many things against the poor child to make
+it possible for him to improve his temper and his character.
+
+"He went to school from the autumn until Christmas: at Christmas he was
+at home for a month, and made even his nurse long for the end of the
+holidays; and then he went again after the holidays, and continued to
+go every day till the spring appeared again. There was no intention
+then of changing the plan, though Mr. Low was not at all satisfied with
+him.
+
+"Bernard was now become so cunning that he did not show the worst of
+his tempers before his father, nor even before his mother; but to his
+sister he appeared just as he was, and he often made her very, very
+sad by his naughty ways.
+
+"Lucilla was one of those young people who love God and all their
+fellow-creatures, and desire to do them good. She had always loved
+Bernard, and she loved him still, though she saw him getting more and
+more naughty from day to day. She believed, however, that he still
+loved her as well as he could love any person besides himself, and she
+thought a long time of some way which she might take to make him
+sensible of his faults.
+
+"During that winter she had often spoken to him in her kind and gentle
+way, and shown him the certain end of evil behaviour; but she felt that
+he paid no more attention to her than he would have done to the buzzing
+of a fly; but now that the spring was come, and they could get out
+together into the fields and gardens and woods, before and after
+school-time, and on half-holidays, she thought she might have a better
+chance with him, and she formed a thousand plans for making the time
+they might thus pass together pleasant, before she could hit upon one
+which she thought might do.
+
+"In a shadowy and sweet nook of the garden was an artificial piece of
+rock-work, which her mother, when first married, had caused to be made
+there, the fragments of rock having been brought from a little
+distance. There Lucilla, with the gardener's assistance, scooped a
+hollow place, a few feet square, and arranged a pretty little
+hermitage: dressing a doll like an old man, and painting a piece of
+glass to fix in the back of the hermitage, to look like the window of a
+chapel. She next sent and bought a few common tools, and thought, as
+Bernard was very fond of clipping and cutting, she could tempt him to
+work to help finish this hermitage. There was a root-house close to the
+place, where she thought they might set to work at this business. 'And
+if I can but engage Bernard,' she said to herself, 'to use his fingers,
+I might perhaps now and then say something to soften him, and make him
+feel it is wrong to go on as he does.'
+
+"Mr. Evans always gave a week's holiday at Whitsuntide, and Lucilla
+thought that this should be her time for trying what she could do with
+Bernard."
+
+[Illustration: But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a
+to-do]
+
+
+
+
+Second Part of the History of Little Bernard Low
+
+[Illustration: "Let us sit here under the shade of a tree"]
+
+_SECOND PART OF HENRY'S STORY_
+
+
+"Meekin and Griffith and Price went home to spend the Whitsun holidays
+on the Saturday evening, and Bernard came home also, with the
+expectation of an idle time, which was to last till the Monday after
+the next.
+
+"The weather was very fine; all the early shrubs and flowers were in
+bloom, the cuckoo was still in the woods, and the leaves had not lost
+their tender young green.
+
+"The young men in Rookdale were very fond of ringing the bells when
+there was a holiday, and they rang away great part of Sunday and of
+Monday also.
+
+"The bells were soft and sweet, though rather sad; but the lads in the
+belfry found nothing sad in pulling at the ropes, and going up and down
+with them.
+
+"Lucilla missed Bernard during several hours of the Sunday; she did not
+guess that he had gone into the belfry with the young men, and that he
+had persuaded the cook to give him a jug of beer to send to them. The
+men would not let him pull a bell, as he was not strong enough--even
+the beer would not tempt them.
+
+"The Monday morning was as bright as the Sunday had been, and it was
+enough to make the old young again to hear the man who was mowing the
+lawn whetting his scythe whilst the dew was on the grass, and the
+various songs of the birds in the trees.
+
+"Lucilla had fixed upon this day to show Bernard the hermitage; but she
+was rather put out, when she came down to breakfast, to see that there
+was a very sulky flush on his cheeks, and that he was complaining of
+his father to his mother, whilst his father was not in the room.
+
+"'Now, mamma,' said Bernard, 'do ask papa; it's a holiday, and a fine
+day, and I want to go. And why can't I go? Papa is so cross.'
+
+"'My dear, you can't go to L---- (that was the nearest town to
+Rookdale) to-day,' replied his mother; 'your papa is too busy to ride
+with you.'
+
+"'Can't John go?' asked Bernard.
+
+"'He is engaged also,' said Mrs. Low.
+
+"'Can't Ralph go?' returned Bernard.
+
+"'Ralph is too young to be trusted with your papa's horse,' said Mrs.
+Low.
+
+"'But I must go.'
+
+"'But indeed you can't.'
+
+"'I can walk. What's to hinder my walking?'
+
+"'Now do be content, my dear--stay with your sister--she has nothing to
+do but to be with you;' and thus the mother and son went on until Mr.
+Low came in, and then Bernard became what Griffith would have called
+glum, for Griffith used many odd words.
+
+"There was no more said about going to L---- after Mr. Low came in; but
+it was quite certain that Bernard's sour looks were not lost on his
+father.
+
+"When breakfast was over, Lucilla said:
+
+"'Now, Bernard, come with me--I have a pleasure for you.' When she had
+put on her bonnet she led him to her grotto, and showed him what she
+had done already, and gave him the tools and some little bits of wood,
+and said, 'Now you must make my hermit a table and a chair--he must
+have a table; and whilst you make these I will finish his dress, and
+fasten the flax on for his beard, and make him a rosary with beads.'
+
+"Lucilla watched her brother's face whilst she showed him the things,
+and told him what she hoped he would do; and she saw that he never
+smiled once. Spoiled children sometimes laugh loud, but they smile very
+little; they have generally very grave faces.
+
+"When they had looked at the grotto, they went into the root-house;
+there were seats round it, and a table in the middle. Lucilla sat down,
+and pulled her needle and thread and beads and bits of silk and cloth
+out of her basket; and Bernard sat down too with the tools and bits of
+wood and board before him.
+
+"He first took up one tool and then another, and examined them, and
+called them over. There was a nail-passer, and a hammer, and a strong
+knife, and one or two more things very useful to a young boy in making
+toys, or anything else in a small way; in short, everything that was
+safe for such a one to have. But Bernard was out of humour, and looked
+for something to find fault with, so of course he could find nothing to
+please him.
+
+"'This nail-driver is too small, Lucilla,' he said; 'where did you get
+it?'
+
+"'At L----,' she answered.
+
+"'What did you give for it?' he asked. 'If you gave much, they have
+cheated you; and the hammer, what did you give for that?'
+
+"Lucilla either did not remember, or did not choose to tell him; and,
+without noticing his questions, she said:
+
+"'What will you make first?'
+
+"Bernard did not answer.
+
+"'Suppose you take this little square bit of deal,' said Lucilla, 'and
+put legs to it, Bernard?'
+
+"The boy took up the deal, turned it about, and, as Lucilla hoped, was
+about to prepare a leg; for he took up a slender slip of wood, and
+began paring it. She then went on with her work, looking up from time
+to time, whilst Bernard went on cutting the slip. He pared and pared,
+and notched awhile, till that slip was reduced to mere splinters. Still
+Lucilla seemed to take no notice, but began to talk of anything she
+could think of. Amongst other things, she talked of the pleasant week
+they had before them, and of a scheme which their father had proposed
+of their all going to drink tea some evening at a cottage in the wood;
+she said, how pleasant it would be for them all to be together. No
+answer again--Bernard had just spoiled another slip of wood, which he
+finished off by wilfully snapping it in two; after which he stared his
+sister full in the face, as if he was resolved to make her notice him.
+
+"She saw what he was about, and therefore seemed as if she did not even
+see him. She was sad, but she went on talking. The bells had struck up
+again: they sounded sweetly, and they seemed sometimes to come as if
+directly from the church, and then again as if from the woods and hills
+on the opposite side. Lucilla remarked how odd this was, and said she
+could not account for it; and then she added, 'Do you know, Bernard,
+that I never hear bells ring without thinking of Alfred? he used to
+love to hear them; he called them music, and once asked me if there
+would be bells in heaven. I was very little then, only in my seventh
+year, and I told him that there would be golden bells in heaven,
+because the pilgrims had heard them ring when they were waiting in the
+Land of Beulah to go over the River of Death.'
+
+"'I say,' said Bernard, 'these bits of wood are not worth burning.'
+
+"'You cut into them too deeply,' answered Lucilla.
+
+"'There goes!' returned Bernard, snapping another; then, laying down
+the knife, he took up the nail-passer, using it to bore a hole in the
+board which formed the table of the root-house.
+
+"'You must not do that,' said Lucilla, almost drawn out of her
+patience.
+
+"'Who says so?' answered Bernard.
+
+"'It is mischief,' said Lucilla. 'It is papa's table; he will be vexed
+if he sees it.'
+
+"'What for?' said the tiresome boy.
+
+"Lucilla did not answer.
+
+"'What for?' repeated Bernard, throwing down the nail-passer, and
+taking up the hammer, with which he knocked away on the place where he
+had made the hole.
+
+"'Oh, my beads!' cried his sister; for the hammering had overturned the
+little box in which they were, and she had only time to save them, or
+most of them, from rolling down on the gravel.
+
+"'Well,' said Bernard, 'if that does not please you, what can I do
+next?'
+
+"Lucilla sighed; she could not speak at the moment, she was so very
+sad, and so much disappointed.
+
+"'I thought,' said Bernard, after a minute, 'that you promised me a
+pleasure. What is it?'
+
+"Lucilla's eyes filled with tears; she rubbed them hastily away, and
+went on working, though without any delight in her work.
+
+"Bernard yawned, then stretched; and after a while he said:
+
+"'Come, Lucilla, let us have a walk.'
+
+"'Anything,' thought Lucilla, 'that will put you into a better state of
+mind.' So she gathered up her work, put it into her basket, and arose,
+leaving the tools and the work on her table; then, giving one sad look
+at her grotto, she led the way to a wicket not very far off, which
+opened on a path made by her father through some part of the large and
+beautiful wood which skirted part of the garden. Bernard followed her,
+and they went on together for some time in silence.
+
+"The path first led them down into a deep hollow, through the bottom of
+which ran a pure stream of water, which had its source in the hills
+above. The rays of the sun, which here and there shone through the
+trees, sparkled and danced in the running stream. A gentle breeze was
+rustling among the leaves; and besides the song of many birds, the
+clear note of the cuckoo was heard from some distance.
+
+"The path led them to a little bridge of a single plank and a
+hand-rail, over which they crossed, and began to go up still among
+woods to the other side, where the bank was very much more steep.
+
+"Still they spoke not: Lucilla was thinking of Bernard, and grieving
+for his wayward humours; and Bernard was thinking that Lucilla was not
+half such good company as Ralph the stable-boy, or even as Miss Evans
+or Stephen; and yet he had some sort of love for Lucilla, though he did
+not like her company. He was, however, the first to speak.
+
+"'Lucilla,' he said, 'do you know a lad in the parish called Noddy?'
+
+"'Noddy?' replied Lucilla.
+
+"'There is such a one,' said Bernard; 'Griffith knows him well, and
+they say he is the oddest fellow--a sort of fool, and everybody's
+laughing-stock. They will have it that I have seen him often; but if I
+have, I don't know him.'
+
+"'There may be many boys in the parish unknown to me,' answered
+Lucilla.
+
+"'I have asked Ralph about him,' said Bernard; 'but I can't get
+anything out of him; he always falls a-laughing when I speak the word.'
+
+"Lucilla felt herself more and more sad about her brother, and said to
+him:
+
+"'Really, Bernard, you are too intimate with Ralph; he may be a very
+good boy, but you ought not to be so free with him as you are.'
+
+"Bernard walked on, and made no answer.
+
+"It was rather hard work, even for these two young people, to climb
+this bank, which was, indeed, the foot of a very steep hill; at last
+they came out on one side of the wood, on a very sweet field, covered
+with fine grass, but nearly as steep as the path by which they had
+come. The prospect from the top of this field was very lovely, for
+immediately below was the deep dell in which the water flowed, and up a
+little above it their father's house and garden, and beyond that the
+tower of the church and the trees in the churchyard were seen; and
+still farther on, hills of all shapes, near and far off, and woods, and
+downs, and farmhouses. What pleased the little girl most was a road
+which looked like a white thread winding away over the heights, and
+passing out of sight near around hill, with a clump of firs at the top.
+
+"'Let us sit down here under the shade of a tree,' said Lucilla; and
+she sat down, whilst Bernard stretched himself by her side.
+
+"Lucilla began to speak, after their long silence, by pointing out the
+different things which they saw before them, telling the names of the
+hills, and showing the farm-houses.
+
+"'And there,' she said, 'look at that winding road and that round hill.
+Beyond that hill is a common covered with gorse, where there are many
+rabbits, and also many sheep. Nurse's son lives on that common: he was
+papa's foster-brother. You know he is nurse's only child, and has got a
+pretty cottage there. When poor little Alfred was beginning to get weak
+and unwell, soon after Henry died; and mamma was ill too, and obliged
+to go somewhere for her health, it was advised by the doctors that
+Alfred should also change the air: and as the air of that common was
+thought very fine, I went with my brother and nurse to spend the summer
+at her son's cottage; and, Bernard, though I was then but six years
+old, I remember everything there as if I had left it but yesterday, for
+nurse has so often talked about that time to me.
+
+"'Sweet little Alfred! He seemed to get quite well and strong; he rode
+about the common on a donkey sometimes, and sometimes he played with
+me, and sometimes we used to sit on the little heaps covered with sweet
+short herbs, and talk of many things.
+
+"'His chief delight was to talk of some place far away, where he always
+fancied we were to go soon: he was to see Henry there, and Henry would
+have wings, and his Saviour would be with them to take care of them,
+and I was to come, and papa and mamma. I suppose that he spoke the
+words of a baby; but the thoughts which were in his heart were very
+sweet. He was merry, too, Bernard, more merry than you are, and full of
+little tricks to make me laugh. But when we had been three months at
+the cottage he grew languid and pale again; he was brought home, and
+from that time grew worse and worse; and he died before Christmas. Oh,
+Bernard, he was the gentlest, sweetest child--so pale! so beautiful!'
+
+"Lucilla for a minute could say no more; she covered her face with her
+hands, and large tears fell from her eyes. Bernard did not speak, but
+he had an odd feeling in his throat, and wished that Lucilla was not
+there to see him cry, for he felt he wanted to cry.
+
+"Lucilla soon spoke again, and went on in the kindest, most gentle way,
+to tell her brother how much more bitter his ill-behaviour was to their
+mother than even the death of her elder boys; saying everything which a
+loving, gentle girl could say to lead him to better behaviour.
+
+"Suddenly, whilst she was speaking, she saw her father and mother
+coming from the little wicket which lay in full view below them, and
+taking their way slowly, and as if talking to each other, along the
+path in the wood. Sometimes the trees partly hid them, then Lucilla saw
+them clearly again, and then not at all. She pointed them out to
+Bernard, and said:
+
+"'Now, now, dear brother, is your time; you can run down one bank and
+up another in a few minutes; you can run to mamma, and beg her pardon
+for being sullen and disobedient to her this morning at breakfast; and
+then, my dear, dear brother, you will have made a good beginning, and
+we shall all be so happy.'
+
+"Bernard had laid himself at full length on the grass, amusing himself,
+whilst his sister spoke, with kicking his legs. He was trying with all
+his might and main to harden himself against what she said; and
+succeeded in making himself as stupid as a mere brick.
+
+"When she pressed him to run to his father, he drew up his legs and lay
+with his knees above all the rest of him, and his eyes staring up to
+the tree above his head, so that an owl could not have looked more
+stupid.
+
+"Lucilla felt more sad than she had done before, when she saw how
+determined he was not to listen to her. She knew not what next to do or
+say; but whilst she was thinking, a dog was heard to bark on the other
+side the hedge which was behind them, and a voice saying, 'Be quiet,
+Pincher.'
+
+"'Why, that is Stephen,' cried Bernard, jumping on his feet; 'what can
+he be doing here?'
+
+"He flew to the hedge, he sprang up the bank, and called to Stephen,
+who was walking along the path on the other side with his dog Pincher.
+
+"'Stop, stop!' cried Bernard; 'stop and I will come to you. Good-bye,
+Lucilla, you can go home by yourself;' and the next minute the rude boy
+had tumbled over the fence, and was running after Stephen.
+
+"Poor Bernard little thought what he lost when he refused to listen to
+Lucilla, and what great pleasure he would have gained, had he done what
+she required of him, and run to beg his father's pardon.
+
+"No one can say what a day may bring forth; and who could have foreseen
+the very strange thing which had happened whilst Lucilla and Bernard
+were out that morning? It was an affair of very serious business, which
+must be told: but as most young people hate business, it shall be told
+as shortly as possible.
+
+"Mr. Low's brother had been a very wild boy, and had run away; so that
+for many years Mr. Low had heard nothing about him. At last he got a
+letter; it was a kind and humble one: in this letter Mr. John Low sent
+word, that after many adventures he had made some money, and bought a
+farm in America, on the banks of the Hudson, above New York; that he
+was doing very well, that he had never married, and only wished that
+his brother would come and see him. Mr. Low had answered this letter
+as a brother should do; and every year since, they had written to each
+other, and sent each other presents. But this morning a letter had come
+from Mr. John Low, entreating his brother to come to him, if possible,
+and to bring his family; stating that he had a disease upon him that
+must soon finish his life; and telling him that he had engaged the
+captain of the _Dory_, who brought the letter, to take him and his
+family back with him to America, he having undertaken to pay all the
+costs. The letter finished with the most earnest entreaties that they
+would all come.
+
+"With Mr. John Low's letter came another from Captain Lewis, of the
+_Dory_, saying he should go back in less than a fortnight, and pressing
+Mr. Low to attend to his brother's request; adding that he almost
+feared that his friend, Mr. John Low, would hardly be found alive when
+they reached New York.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Low were talking over this letter, and forming their
+plans about it, when their children saw them walking so gravely in the
+wood. They had come to the resolution to go with Captain Lewis, and
+they had a long discourse about Bernard. They resolved at once to take
+Lucilla with them; they wished her to see her uncle, and to see the New
+World, and her company would be pleasant to them; but they had many
+doubts about Bernard. Mr. Low was quite against taking him, and he took
+this occasion to tell his wife that they had both been to blame in
+spoiling him as they had done, and that he considered his present
+ill-behaviour as a punishment which he himself deserved, for having
+suffered his boy to be so spoiled.
+
+"Mrs. Low had not much to say; she thought her husband was right.
+
+"Now, had Bernard listened to Lucilla, and had he come just at that
+minute before his parents and begged pardon for his ill-behaviour, he
+might have changed his father's determination--for fathers are very
+forgiving--and then his mother, too, would have been on his side; and
+so he might have got the pleasure of going that long journey into the
+New World.
+
+"Everything was settled after Mr. Low had made up his mind, even before
+Bernard returned; for Stephen was going a long walk to see Meekin's
+father, who was a farmer in the next parish, and Bernard went with him.
+Stephen would not take him, however, till he had come back to where
+Lucilla was, to ask her if she thought Mr. Low would be pleased if he
+took him.
+
+"Stephen could speak very properly and well, when it served his turn to
+do so; and Lucilla thought him a very nice person, and to be trusted,
+for he was older than Bernard, by several years, and was often trusted
+to walk with the boys. She could not say that she could give leave, but
+she promised to tell her father where Bernard was gone, and with whom.
+Everything was therefore settled before the spoiled boy came home late
+in the evening. Mr. Low agreed with Mr. Evans that he should take care
+of his church; and as Mr. Evans was going to have his house painted and
+a new schoolroom built, it was also settled that he should come and
+reside at the rectory until Mr. Low returned. Miss Evans was immensely
+pleased at the thought of this. Bernard was to remain under Mr. Evans's
+care; Mr. Low's servants were all to be put on board wages and sent
+home, excepting the gardener. Even nurse was to go to her son, for Mr.
+Low said that nurse was the one who spoiled Bernard most. The boys were
+to have a large laundry, which was in the yard, for their schoolroom,
+and the drying yard for their play-ground; and Mr. Evans and his family
+were to come in the day Mr. Low left.
+
+"Mr. Low had also to ask leave for being absent from his living, and
+Mrs. Low had packing to do; so that there was a vast deal to get
+through, for it was necessary for them to be in London, where Captain
+Lewis was, in a very few days.
+
+"As Lucilla, who had not yet heard of all this great bustle, walked
+quietly home, her heart was very sad on account of her brother. She
+came back by the grotto, and took up her work-basket, putting away the
+hermit and the tools and bits of wood in a corner of the little cave
+out of sight; and taking her basket in her hand, she walked towards
+home, thinking to return to her little hermitage the next day at
+latest.
+
+"Poor Lucilla could not help shedding a few tears as she passed slowly
+along the shrubbery, to think how all her little plans had ended in
+nothing. She did not just then remember that verse, 'Cast thy bread
+upon the waters, and after many days thou shalt find it.'"
+
+[Illustration: "_He took up a slip of wood._"--Page 344.]
+
+
+
+
+Third Part of the History of Little Bernard Low
+
+[Illustration: There was no end of the indulgences given in private to
+the boy]
+
+_THIRD PART OF HENRY'S STORY_
+
+
+"As this history has been very long, and there is more to write about
+it, we will not say much of what happened the next seven days; for both
+houses, that is, Mr. Low's and Mr. Evans's, were all in a bustle, and
+everybody was pleased at the changes which were coming. Even Bernard,
+after he had roared, and cried, and sulked for the first two days, had
+altered his manner, and taken up the behaviour of Harry in the old
+spelling-book--what we may call the don't-care behaviour--for, as he
+told nurse, if his father did not love him enough to take the trouble
+of him in the voyage he was taking, he did not care, not he; he should
+be very happy at home without him. He should cry no more: he wondered
+why he cried at first, for he had not cared all the while; and so he
+went whistling about the house the tune of the 'Jolly Miller' which he
+had heard Ralph sing:
+
+    "'There was a jolly miller once
+        Lived on the River Dee;
+      He work'd and sang from morn till night,
+        No man so blithe as he.
+
+    "'And this the burden of his song
+        For ever used to be--
+      I care for nobody, no, not I,
+        And nobody cares for me.'
+
+"Bernard, however, did not let his father hear him whistling this tune,
+nor did he say, 'I don't care,' before him.
+
+"The Monday following that in which he had walked with Lucilla was the
+day fixed for the many changes. Very early in the morning, nurse's son
+brought a donkey for his mother. The old woman cried, and said she
+should have no peace till she came back again, and told Mrs. Low that
+she was sure she should never live in comfort with her son's wife Joan.
+She kissed Bernard twenty times, and begged him to come and see her;
+and Bernard did his best not to cry. There was an early breakfast, but
+nobody sat at the table two minutes together; something was to be done
+every moment. Mr. Low walked in and out five or six times. The
+housemaid and the cook came in to say good-bye; they were going to walk
+to their homes; and Ralph was to go with his sister, the cook. People,
+too, were coming with packages from Mr. Evans's, and the bustle kept
+Bernard from thinking very deeply on what was going to happen; and yet
+he could not eat his breakfast, nor whistle, for he was not in his
+usual spirits.
+
+"At length the chaise came from the inn, and the trunks were brought
+down to be fastened on.
+
+"Bernard placed himself at the window to look at what was being done
+without; and again he felt the same choking he had had on the hill.
+
+"He heard his mother say, 'When shall we start, my dear?' and his
+father answer, 'In less than half an hour.' He saw his mother look at
+him with tears in her eyes. He could bear it no longer--he rushed out
+into the shrubbery, and having got behind a laurestinus, he gave full
+way to his tears--he could not then say, 'Who cares?'
+
+"Lucilla saw him run out and followed him; she was weeping very
+bitterly; she threw her arms round him, and they both cried together.
+She kissed him many times, and they would not have parted then, had
+they not heard themselves called. Lucilla hastily then put a very
+pretty little Bible in his hand, and gave him another kiss.
+
+"There only remained a tender parting between the boy and his parents;
+and whilst they were still blessing him they were driven away, and the
+poor child was left standing alone on the gravel. His eyes followed the
+carriage as long as it could be seen from that place; and then,
+observing some people coming in at the gate, he ran away. He took the
+path through the shrubbery, and across a field, to a high green bank,
+from which he could trace the road a long way, even as far off as where
+it passed under the round hill with the clump of firs on it, near to
+nurse's son's house.
+
+"He sat down on the bank, waiting until the carriage should come in
+sight again: for when it got down into the bottom of the valley, where
+there were many trees, it was hid from his view.
+
+"This was perhaps the first time in Bernard's life in which he ever had
+any really useful thoughts. He was made then to have some little notion
+that he owed his present trouble to his having been a very rebellious
+naughty boy; but with this good thought came also a bad one: 'But if
+papa loves me as he ought to do, he would not have been so cruel as to
+leave me. He would have forgiven me and overlooked the past, and tried
+me again.'
+
+"Bernard did not consider that it would actually have been very
+dangerous to have taken a disobedient boy to sea, for no one could tell
+what mischief he might have got into on board ship.
+
+"When Bernard saw the carriage again, it looked like a speck on the
+white road. The speck seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and at last
+it disappeared round the foot of the little hill. Then the poor boy
+cried and cried again, until he could cry no longer, and every tear
+seemed to be dried up.
+
+"No one can say how long he sat there, but it was a long time; at last
+he heard a voice, saying, 'Master Low! Master Low! where are you?' and
+the next minute old Jacob, the gardener, appeared.
+
+"Now Jacob was the only servant who had not helped to spoil Bernard,
+and therefore Bernard had never liked him, but always called him cross
+old Jacob. He was glad, however, to see him then; and yet he did not
+speak first to him.
+
+"'I am glad I have found you, Master,' said the old man; 'I have been
+hunting you everywhere; and so has Mr. Evans. They be all come--Miss
+Grizzy herself, and the two maids, and Master Stephen, and a power of
+traps; and the lad that cleans the shoes and knives. But I shan't let
+him meddle with the horses, which he is forward enough to do. But you
+must come along with me. Master; they are all in trouble about you.'
+
+"'Surely,' said Bernard, forgetting that one good thought which he had
+had a little before, 'I may go anywhere I please on my own papa's
+grounds; everything here is papa's, Jacob, and I am at home here.'
+
+"'True,' replied Jacob, 'and so am I too; but neither you nor I is
+master here.'
+
+"'That is just like you, Jacob,' answered Bernard; 'but I am the
+master's son, and you are a servant.'
+
+"'I could answer you from Scripture,' said Jacob, 'if I would.'
+
+"'Do then!' cried Bernard.
+
+"'Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing
+from a servant, though he be lord of all; but is under tutors and
+governors until the time appointed of the father' (Gal. iv. 1, 2).
+
+"Bernard made no answer to this, but, getting up, walked before Jacob
+to the house. At the door he was met by Mr. Evans, who spoke to him
+kindly, said he hoped to make him happy, and to do everything for his
+good in his father's absence. He added also that Griffith and Meekin
+and Price were come, and were in the laundry, which was then to be
+called the schoolroom; but that he should not call any of them that day
+to lessons; only he hoped that he would not go far from the house, as
+he was now accountable for his safety.
+
+"Mr. Evans then walked away, and Bernard went to his own room, where he
+had much difficulty to prevent himself from crying again; but happening
+to light upon some penny pictures and a pair of scissors, he amused
+himself with cutting them all to pieces; first cutting out the figures,
+then the houses, and then the trees, till he had spoiled them all.
+
+"At one o'clock the bell rang for dinner. Bernard did not stir till
+somebody had had the trouble of coming up to call him. The dinner was
+laid in the family dining-room. Miss Grizzy was seated at the head of
+the table when Bernard came in; she was in very good humour, and smart
+as usual. Mr. Evans was in Mr. Low's place at the bottom; the boys on
+each side.
+
+"'Master Low,' said Miss Evans, as he came in, 'I hope you are well;
+here we are, you see, in your papa's handsome room, and here is your
+chair by me. I don't ask you to sit down, for who has such a right to
+sit here as you have? Make room, Meekin. Surely there is room enough at
+this large table? Sit a little lower, Griffith; and now, Master Low,
+what shall we give you?'
+
+"All that was proud and selfish in the heart of poor Bernard was awake
+and busy long before Miss Evans had finished her speech. The boy looked
+round the table for what he liked best; but instead of asking, told the
+servant to take his plate for it, saying:
+
+"'Don't give me fat, I don't like it.'
+
+"'No fat for Master Low,' cried Miss Evans: and then again speaking to
+the boy, 'You have a charming house here, Master Low; I had no notion
+how good it was till I went over it this morning. I tell the young
+gentlemen here that they must be very careful not to do mischief.'
+
+"'They cannot do any, sister,' said Mr. Evans, 'if they keep to their
+places. They must not go into the garden, there is abundant room for
+them to play in elsewhere, and they shall have as much fruit as is good
+for them. Mind, boys, on honour, no going into the garden. You shall
+not need, for as Mr. Low kindly leaves us the use of the fruit, you
+shall have your full share.'
+
+"'You hear, young gentlemen,' said Miss Evans; 'Master Meekin, Master
+Griffith, Master Price----'
+
+"'And Master Low,' added Mr. Evans, 'you are, on honour, not to go into
+the garden.'
+
+"'Master Low!' repeated Miss Grizzy; 'Master Low not to go into his
+papa's garden?'
+
+"Mr. Evans never disputed with his sister before the boys, and not,
+indeed, very often when alone with her, for he loved peace and
+quietness, and she would always have many last words; so he said no
+more; and she, tapping Bernard gently on the back, said, in a low
+voice:
+
+"'That would be hard, would not it, to keep you out of your dear papa's
+own garden?'
+
+"'I should think so,' answered Bernard, in the same low voice.
+
+"This was only the beginning; and as Miss Grizzy went on as she had
+begun, in setting up Bernard, and flattering him to the very utmost in
+her power, there is much reason to fear that he was not likely to be
+the better for being left with her.
+
+"Griffith, with his friends Meekin and Price, would soon have given him
+a lesson or two of another kind, had not Stephen watched them; but
+Stephen had been well tutored by his aunt, and as much was gained them
+from Mr. Low's friendship, besides the honour of having Master Low at
+school, they cared for nothing so much as keeping the naughty boy in
+good humour.
+
+"As to Mr. Evans, he was a simple, earnest man, not suspecting evil of
+others, and anxious to do good. He was kind to all his pupils; he never
+made a difference: and it was for his sake that any boys remained in
+the house; so that he really caused the family to prosper, whilst his
+sister fancied it was all her own doing.
+
+"The next day Mr. Evans began to give his lessons; and kept them on
+most regularly till the Midsummer holidays. He was not aware that
+Bernard had any other indulgence but being helped first at table, which
+he did not quite like; and he kept him as close as the others at his
+lessons.
+
+"But Miss Grizzy, and Stephen, and Bernard were too deep for him; and
+there was no end of the indulgences given in private to the boy. He had
+cakes, and puffs, and strawberries and cream given him, when nobody saw
+it, by Miss Evans.
+
+"Stephen never took notice when he went beyond bounds unless his uncle
+was likely to catch him. He helped him privately at his lessons; and
+when set to hear him, often let him slip them altogether; and always
+took his part when there was a quarrel between him and the other boys.
+The holidays made but little difference with Bernard. Mr. Evans gave
+him a daily lesson, because he wanted to get him on. And as to other
+things, he could not be more spoiled and stuffed by Miss Grizzy at one
+time than at another.
+
+"Miss Grizzy all this while disliked him as much as Stephen did, and
+that was with their whole hearts.
+
+"Stephen called him a little proud, insolent puppy. And Miss Evans said
+he was the most greedy child she ever saw, and so wasteful and
+thankless, and one of the worst-mannered boys she ever had to deal
+with.
+
+"Stephen said the same to Meekin and Griffith and Price; he laid all
+the partiality with which they charged him on his aunt, and said he
+only wished he could have his way with him, and he would soon bring
+down his airs, and teach him what he was made of.
+
+"The same boys met again after the holidays, and things went on much in
+the same way.
+
+"Several letters were received from Mr. Low from different places; at
+length one came, stating their arrival in New York, and their being
+about to go up the Hudson to Mr. John Low's house.
+
+"The great indulgence with which Bernard was treated, and the bustle
+that was made about him, together with the real kindness of Mr. Evans,
+made him very hard and careless about his parents.
+
+"He used often to say, 'I do very well here; if papa stays longer than
+he at first intended I shall not fret after him, and I dare say he will
+not fret after me, for if he had loved me so very much he would not
+have left me behind.'
+
+"Bernard could not forgive his father for leaving him; but whenever he
+talked in this way not even Stephen could keep Griffith from speaking
+his mind to him.
+
+"'There you go again,' Griffith would say; 'always blaming your father,
+when the fault is all your own. Don't you know, Bernard, that there is
+nobody that can bear with you who thinks they have not something to get
+by you?'
+
+"The name Noddy, which Stephen had forbidden, was got up again after
+the Midsummer holidays; and everything that Bernard did to make himself
+disagreeable was set down to this Noddy.
+
+"At last Bernard got to the truth of this matter by being told by
+Meekin that if he wished to see Noddy, he must take a peep in the
+looking-glass. On hearing this, Bernard struck Meekin, and if Stephen
+had not come in, the spoiled boy for once would have got his deserts.
+
+"Letters were again received from Mr. Low about December; he said in
+them that his poor brother was very ill, not likely to live through the
+winter; that it was impossible for him to leave him, and that at all
+events he meant to stay till the season for crossing the sea should be
+better. Lucilla at the same time wrote a long letter to her brother.
+
+"The Christmas holidays passed, and nothing particular happened; the
+same boys met again after Christmas, and another boy came also; but
+Bernard despised him as much as he did Meekin and Griffith and Price,
+because he had heard it said that his father kept a shop.
+
+"January passed, and February, and March; another letter had come from
+Mr. Low; poor Mr. John Low was dead, and Mr. Low was busy settling his
+affairs. Mr. John Low had left his brother a good deal of money, but
+Mr. Low did not say anything about that; Miss Grizzy therefore made it
+out that there was none.
+
+"Another letter arrived at the end of March to say that Captain Lewis
+was to sail for England in the _Dory_ in a few days, and that Mr. Low
+hoped to come with him. There was another sweet letter from Lucilla,
+telling how many pretty things she had collected for her dear brother.
+
+"It was about four weeks after these two last letters had been
+received, when one morning Mr. Evans came in a great hurry, and with a
+face of much trouble, into the school-room, and called out Stephen.
+Stephen came back five minutes afterwards, and told the boys that his
+uncle had been called suddenly away, and they had leave to play.
+
+"'Good news--good news!' cried Griffith, and away ran the four pupils,
+with Stephen after them; whilst Bernard went into the house to see what
+he could get.
+
+"As he came into the hall he saw that the parlour door was open, and he
+heard people talking within. Miss Grizzy was in the parlour, and she
+was talking to a neighbour who had dropped in. The coming of that
+neighbour, Bernard thought, had something to do with the holiday so
+suddenly given, and by listening he thought he might find something out
+about this holiday.
+
+"The words Bernard heard were these:
+
+"'I know, Mrs. Smith, better than most, that the family had nothing to
+depend upon but the living. To be sure, the living is very good, and
+much might be saved out of it for the children, but if what we hear is
+true they will come but poorly off, I fear.'
+
+"'You forget, Miss Evans,' answered Mrs. Smith, 'that if what we hear
+be true--and I fear it is--there is only one left to provide for.'
+
+"As Bernard drew closer to the door to hear more, he knocked his foot
+against it, and Miss Grizzy called out:
+
+"'Who is there?'
+
+"Bernard walked into the parlour at the call, in his usual manner, and
+without taking any notice of Mrs. Smith, he said:
+
+"'I want some bread and butter.'
+
+"'What, already?' cried Miss Grizzy tartly; 'don't you see that I am
+talking business with my neighbour, Master Low? Come, you had best go
+to play, and mind to shut the door after you.'
+
+"Bernard looked at her with a look which seemed to say, 'What's the
+matter now?' and walked away, leaving the door as wide open as he could
+push it.
+
+"He walked into the garden, but old Jacob was not there, and then he
+went to the back of the house to look for the other boys. He had heard
+their voices at a distance, when he got there, and saw them in the very
+field where he had sat with Lucilla. Their voices came straight over
+the valley; but it was a long way to go, down first and up again, to
+them. However, he set out to go, and in his way had to pass by the door
+of a cottage near the brook. In this cottage lived an old woman, who
+had been supported for some years by his father's family, though she
+could do little in return. She was sitting on the step, with her face
+on her knees, crying bitterly.
+
+"'What now, Betty?' said Bernard.
+
+"'Ah, Master Low!' she said, looking up, 'is it you, my precious
+master, and do you say, what's the matter now? Have not they told you?
+The hardened creatures to keep such news from you!'
+
+"And she then told him the real cause of the breaking up of the school,
+the absence of Mr. Evans and Jacob, and the visit of Mrs. Smith. News
+had come that day to Rookdale, that the _Dory_ had been lost at sea,
+and gone down with every creature on board: having been seen to
+founder by some other vessel, in a dreadful squall off some island.
+
+"Mr. Evans had gone immediately to discover the truth of this account,
+which was in a newspaper. It is not known where he went, or to whom he
+wrote letters; but this is certain, that he only obtained confirmation
+of the dreadful news, and as weeks passed, and nothing was heard from
+Mr. Low or of the _Dory_, every one, of course, believed that poor
+Bernard was an orphan.
+
+"Miss Grizzy began to think where the money was to come from to pay for
+Bernard's keep; for what had been said was very true, Mr. Low had had
+little to depend upon but his living; or if he had saved anything, it
+could not be known where his savings were, till his papers could be
+looked up, and that could not be done until it was as certain as might
+be that he was really dead.
+
+"Poor Bernard!--now his time of trial had come: he was quite unprepared
+for the story old Betty told him. Mr. Evans had wished it might for the
+present be kept from him. He fell down like one struck with death when
+he heard the story.
+
+"The old woman screamed; at her cry, Stephen and the boys, who were not
+far off, came running to her; more help was called, Bernard was lifted
+up, and carried to the house and put to bed.
+
+"When laid on his bed, it was found that the sudden shock had made him
+very ill, and there was fear of inflammation of the brain. The doctor
+was sent for, he was bled more than once, his head was shaved, and a
+large blister put upon it. He was reduced to be as weak as a baby: he
+called often, when he knew not what he said, for his father and his
+mother, and his own sweet Lucilla; and when he recollected that he had
+heard they were dead, he called for his nurse.
+
+"Nurse came the moment she heard of his illness; but Mr. Evans was not
+come home, he was absent more than ten days, and Miss Grizzy would not
+let nurse see him. In grief and anger the old woman went home, and took
+to her bed almost as ill as poor Bernard.
+
+"Miss Grizzy was the person who watched by Bernard's bed, and saw that
+everything the doctor ordered was done; but Bernard fancied she was not
+the same Miss Grizzy that used to smile upon him and flatter him in
+past times, she looked so grave, and said so often, 'That _must_ be
+done, Master Low.'
+
+"Bernard, however, did not think much about her; his whole mind was
+filled, till his head got well, with thoughts of his parents and
+sister, and even of his little brothers, whom he had never seen. And in
+this time of suffering and weakness he began to be sincerely sorry for
+his past naughtiness.
+
+"Mr. Evans came back without any hope respecting Mr. Low. He was very
+much grieved, especially for Bernard, and showed his kindness by
+visiting him often in his room; and when the boy was better, another
+friend showed himself; this was Griffith, who had made up his mind
+never again to quiz Bernard so long as he lived. He came often to him,
+and even read to him in the Bible Lucilla had given. Jacob too showed
+his deep affection for his little master. But Jacob himself was soon
+afterwards taken ill, and Miss Grizzy contrived that he should be sent
+away till he got better. So Bernard was made to feel that those were
+not his real friends who flattered him when all seemed to be well with
+him.
+
+"Time passed on, Bernard's health was restored, and he was able to come
+down as usual. He went down to dinner the first day on a Sunday. He had
+been well enough to go down the Monday before, but Miss Grizzy had
+fixed on Sunday for the day; perhaps because her brother, who had two
+churches to serve, would not be at dinner. When Bernard came into the
+room, he looked at the place where he used to sit, but Master Larkin,
+the new pupil, was in it. There was a place kept for him by Stephen at
+the bottom of the table.
+
+"'You are older than Larkin, Low,' said Stephen, 'and must give up the
+place of pet to him.' Bernard sat down. He did not just then understand
+the reason of being put out of his place--he had this to learn amongst
+other things. He was not asked what he would like, but helped in his
+turn; and when dinner was over, he was not asked if he would like to
+stay in the parlour, but told, if he felt tired, to go and lie on his
+own bed. At tea he was treated like the other boys, and at supper also,
+and from that time this went on. If Mr. Evans saw it, he did not
+interfere; but this good man was very absent, and many things passed
+before him which he did not notice.
+
+"After a few days, one would have thought that Miss Evans and her
+nephew had ceased to care altogether about Bernard's feelings; they
+began to talk before him of who was to have the house and living, and
+that it was necessary to take great care of the house and furniture;
+and Bernard was told that he must not run rampaging about as he had
+done formerly; for, as Miss Grizzy said, there was little enough left,
+she feared, for his maintenance, and there was no need to make things
+worse.
+
+"It was a hard lesson for the spoiled boy to be taught to be patient
+under these mortifications, and never to fire up and answer these cruel
+hints; but he was patient, he bore much and said little. He felt that
+he deserved to be humbled in this way, and he tried to be submissive.
+
+"Another month or six weeks went, and Bernard had only two earthly
+comforts: one was from the gentleness of Mr. Evans, and the other from
+the rough kindness of Griffith, who gave Meekin a sound drubbing one
+day for calling Bernard Noddy.
+
+"'Why,' said Meekin, 'did not _you_ give him the name?'
+
+"'I did,' answered Griffith; 'but he shan't hear it now, never again.'
+
+"The season of Whitsuntide had come round, and the boys were to go home
+for a week, and only Meekin, Low, and Stephen were left. The bells were
+not set to ring as usual on Sunday morning; the ringers were thoughtful
+enough to refuse to ring; but Stephen was resolved to have a peal, and
+he and Meekin and the big boy who worked about the place, and one other
+whom they contrived to muster, had one peal on the Sunday, and several
+others on the Monday.
+
+"The return of Whitsuntide made Bernard more unhappy than he had been
+for many days. He remembered that time a year ago so very exactly, and
+what everybody had then said and done--his own bad behaviour
+especially. He had a very sad Sunday, and got up even more sad on the
+Monday morning.
+
+"Miss Grizzy had put him out of his old sleeping-room after his
+recovery, into a little room which looked over the stable yard. Before
+he was dressed he heard talking in the yard. He dressed in haste, and
+ran to the window, and there he saw just below him a young man called
+Benjamin, the same who had helped to ring the bells with Stephen and
+Meekin and the servant boy--all gathered together examining Lucilla's
+pony. Bernard could not hear what they said, and the bell rang for
+breakfast before he had time to ask.
+
+"When he came down, he was sorry to find that Mr. Evans was gone out.
+He asked Meekin how long he was to stay from home; and Stephen
+answered:
+
+"'Maybe all the week; maybe a month; maybe he wishes to try what sort
+of a schoolmaster I should make in his absence.'
+
+"'Oh! I hope not,' said Bernard, speaking hastily and without thinking.
+
+"'You do, do you?' answered Stephen spitefully; 'well, we shall see.'
+
+"'It don't become you, Low, to speak in such a way now,' said Miss
+Grizzy, 'you are not master here, now. You can't count upon this place
+being yours more than my brother's any longer; it is just as well that
+you know the truth, and know at once what to expect. The living went
+from the family when your father died, and it is feared that there will
+not be much left for your keep when the things are sold, and everything
+paid.'
+
+"The tears stood in Bernard's eyes--not that he attended to all the
+words Miss Grizzy said; he was thinking of that day a year ago, of his
+own ill behaviour, and of the kindness of his sweet Lucilla.
+
+"'Oh!' he thought, 'how could I have run away from my gentle sister to
+go to that cruel Stephen?'
+
+"Stephen and Meekin walked off in a hurry, after they had breakfasted,
+and Miss Grizzy sent Bernard after them. He followed them slowly, and
+yet did not like to stay long behind them.
+
+"They were gone again into the yard, and there was Benjamin, and the
+servant boy, and the pony. Stephen was talking of the pony, and giving
+his orders: the pony had a long tail, and his mane wanted putting in
+order.
+
+"'You must dock the tail close, Ben,' were the words that Bernard
+heard; 'she will sell for nothing in that fashion.'
+
+"'Oh, no, no!' cried Bernard, running forward, 'Lucilla would not like
+it; she said she would always have it long to flitch away the flies.'
+
+"'Who bid you speak?' said Stephen.
+
+"'Is she not my horse now?' cried Bernard.
+
+"'No more yours than mine,' replied Stephen.
+
+"'Don't cut her tail, Benjamin,' returned Bernard.
+
+"'Hold your peace,' said Stephen.
+
+"'Only stay till Mr. Evans comes home,' said Bernard.
+
+"'Do it now,' said Stephen.
+
+"Bernard was beside himself; he called Stephen cruel, deceitful, and
+anything else he could think of, and he tried to seize the halter of
+the pony.
+
+"Stephen dragged him away, and in the scuffle thought Bernard had
+struck him; Meekin swore that he did.
+
+"Stephen, when set up, was furiously passionate, and without taking
+time for thought, he snatched a switch from the hand of Ben, and laid
+it on Bernard till his back and even the sides of his face were covered
+with wheals. The poor boy ran, and Stephen after him. Stephen was even
+the more provoked because Benjamin cried to him to desist.
+
+"Bernard at last got away from him by a little gate which led into the
+garden, and he continued to run until he had come to the arbour and the
+grotto. He had never gone to that corner of the shrubbery since the
+news had come of the loss of the _Dory_; and at first, when he almost
+dropped down on one of the benches, he scarcely recollected where he
+was. He was seated exactly where he had sat with Lucilla on the last
+Whitsun-Monday. The mouth of the grotto was exactly before him; the
+winter's wind had driven the dead damp leaves into it, and there had
+been no one to clear them away. The highest point of the little window
+in the back, which Lucilla herself had painted on a piece of board,
+just peeped above the heap of leaves. Bernard thought of the tools
+Lucilla had bought; they were lying, no doubt, rusting in a corner.
+
+"'Oh, Lucilla!' he cried; and bursting into tears, he laid his hands on
+the table, and stooped his face upon them: the board was quite wet with
+his tears when he looked up again.
+
+"He was startled by the sudden ringing out of the bells. Stephen and
+the boys had gone to cool themselves in the belfry, after leaving the
+pony undocked in the field.
+
+"How did those bells remind the unhappy boy of the year before, for he
+had heard them when sitting in that very place with Lucilla! He
+remembered his hardness and pride at that time, and like the Prodigal
+Son to his father, he cried to his God, 'I have sinned against heaven
+and before Thee, and am not worthy to be called Thy son.'
+
+"Could Lucilla have foreknown in what spirit her dear brother would
+have spoken those words in that place, at the end of twelve months
+after she had brought him there, she would have been filled with joy,
+and would have said, 'My God, I thank Thee, for Thou hast heard my
+prayers.'
+
+"When Bernard was getting more calm, his tears were made to flow again
+by the sight of the broken splinters and one of Lucilla's beads on the
+gravel at his feet. He took up the bead, wrapped it in a bit of paper,
+put it into his waistcoat pocket, and went out of the shrubbery by the
+wicket close by into the wood.
+
+"As he walked along his wandering eye at last settled upon that spot of
+ground, at the foot of the round hill with the crown of fir-trees,
+where the carriage which had taken away his parents had disappeared. He
+thought then of his nurse, and that she had been one of those to whom
+he had behaved ill.
+
+"'Poor nurse!' he said to himself, 'I will go to beg her pardon, and I
+will get her to let me live with her, and never let me come back to
+this place again. Nurse will give me bread, and I shall want nothing
+else. I will go;' and he got up and looked to see which was the
+shortest way to get to the round hill. When he fancied he had made this
+out, he got up and set off slowly, for by this time the stripes given
+him by the switch had got stiff; but he had set his mind on going to
+nurse's, and, indeed, he did not dare to go home.
+
+"Oh, what a long and dreary way did he find it! The first half-mile was
+tolerably level, but the next two miles and a half were all uphill,
+only with a very little going down sometimes. The sun was shining
+without clouds, and his bones were sore, and he was getting hungry; and
+what was worse than all, his heart was very sad, and the road was
+solitary. He scarcely met anyone, excepting a party of people with
+asses; still he often caught sight of the round hill, and found himself
+getting nearer to it: he thought it looked higher, and higher, and
+higher as he went on, and he had to go beyond it. It was quite noonday
+before he reached the foot of it; and there he had to ask a man, who
+was breaking stones on the road, the nearest way to the common. The man
+showed him a deep lane a little further, up which he was to go, and
+when he had got to the end of it, he saw the common and the
+rabbit-burrows, and sheep, and geese, and many cottages. He asked at
+many doors before he could learn where nurse lived; but when he saw her
+house he was pleased, because it looked larger and neater than the
+others, and he thought there would be room for him. It stood in a
+pretty garden, surrounded with a neat quickset hedge, nicely shorn.
+
+"He opened the wicket-gate without fear, and walked up to the door. He
+saw a neat kitchen within, for the door was half open; he knocked, and
+called, 'Is nurse at home?' No one answered at first, but soon he heard
+a step, and nurse's daughter-in-law appeared.
+
+"She was a tall, hard-looking woman, and the first words she said,
+were:
+
+"'Surely it is not you, Master Low, and in such a plight? Why, you have
+been a-fighting.'
+
+"'I want nurse,' said Bernard.
+
+"'What, mother-in-law?' answered the woman; 'you can't see her.'
+
+"'Why?' answered Bernard.
+
+"'She is sick in bed,' said the woman.
+
+"'Let me go up and see her, if you please,' said Bernard.
+
+"'You can't do no such thing,' said the woman; 'she is not in the
+house, and if she was she could not have much to say to you. Has not
+Miss Grizzy forbid her to come about you? and times are hard, Master
+Low. You has run away from school, I doubt not, by the look of you. You
+has been a-fighting. Don't think that we shall go to harbour you here,
+and get nothing but cross words for our pains. Miss Grizzy told mother
+that there would be nothing a-coming to you when all was paid. So go
+back as fast as you can; you can't come in. Go back, there's a good
+lad.'
+
+"She then, in her great goodness, handed him a crust and a bit of dry
+cheese, and pushed him from the door; for she was afraid that her
+husband and his mother, who were both out, might come in before the
+child was gone.
+
+"Bernard hardly knew what he did when he took the bread and cheese, and
+felt the hand of the woman pushing him out. He could not eat what was
+given him, for he was parched with thirst, and his young heart was
+almost broken by his disappointment. Even to nurse he had behaved ill,
+and now he thought that even she had forsaken him. He dragged himself
+back through the deep lane, and being again in the highroad at the foot
+of the hill, he sat, or rather stretched, himself on a green bank
+under a hedge; and having cried again till he could cry no longer, he
+fell into a sort of stupor, neither asleep nor otherwise, quite worn
+with tiredness, and thirst, and sorrow.
+
+"About the time when Bernard was turned from nurse's door, the
+dinner-bell at his papa's house was ringing, and Miss Evans waiting at
+the head of the table ready to carve.
+
+"Before the bell had done tinkling, Stephen and Meekin came in, and
+Miss Grizzy said:
+
+"'Where is Low? I suppose he does not expect us to wait for him.'
+
+"Stephen looked at Meekin, and Meekin looked at Stephen. Stephen was
+not quite easy in the thought of the severe beating which he had given
+Bernard; but as it was expected that Mr. Evans would not return till
+the evening of the next day, he trusted that there would be nothing
+about Bernard to lead his uncle to inquire about what had happened in
+his absence.
+
+"'The boy is sulking somewhere,' he thought, 'and when he is hungry he
+will show himself;' and with this thought he went to the bottom of the
+table; and they had all just seated themselves, when in walked Mr.
+Evans.
+
+"Miss Grizzy set up a shriek of wonder, and Stephen turned scarlet.
+
+"Mr. Evans had set out with the intention of going to the Bishop, under
+whom he and Mr. Low lived, to ask him about some little difficulty
+which had arisen in the management of the parish, and to beg that
+things might remain as they were, until more decided news could be got
+of the loss of the ship.
+
+"The worthy man was not thinking of himself, but of poor Bernard. He
+had hardly gone ten miles of the thirty he had to go, when he met the
+Bishop's coach, and had the opportunity of settling his business in a
+few minutes. And what had he then to do but to stop at a little inn by
+the wayside to refresh his horse, and go quietly home, much pleased by
+the kindness of the Bishop?
+
+"When he had, in a few words, explained how it happened that he was at
+home so soon, he was preparing to sit down to dinner, when he missed
+Bernard.
+
+"'Where is Master Low?' he said, looking round. 'Where is Bernard,
+sister? Stephen, where is the child?'
+
+"There was a certain something in the flushed features and stammering
+answers of Stephen which struck even the unsuspicious Mr. Evans, and
+when he was once roused he could show great firmness. He insisted that
+the little boy should appear; and when he did not answer to any call,
+or to the repeated ringing of the bell, he ordered the dinner away.
+
+"'No one in the house shall dine, sister Grizzy,' he said, 'till the
+orphan is found. Mind what I say. Do you, boys, run in all directions;
+let the women go also, and bring the poor child to me. You, Stephen,
+have been quarrelling with him.'
+
+"'Sir,' said Meekin, 'he struck Mr. Stephen.'
+
+"'No, Master Meekin,' said the boy who was waiting at table, 'I did not
+see as he did; nor Ben neither, and he was by.'
+
+"'No matter now,' said Mr. Evans; 'be off, all of you, and bring the
+child to me.'
+
+"And Mr. Evans sat down, having no expectation but that Bernard would
+be brought in, with the tear in his eye, but safe and sound, in a few
+minutes. He waited alone, maybe a quarter of an hour, and then went
+out, becoming more frightened every moment.
+
+"There was a set of people, such as sell pottery, happening to pass up
+the road at the minute Mr. Evans went out of the gate; and he bethought
+himself of asking them if they had met a little boy in their way,
+describing Bernard.
+
+"The old woman of the party told him that they had met such a boy, and
+told him also exactly where. It struck Mr. Evans at once that the child
+had set out to go to nurse's; and without losing another minute he
+called Tom, ordered him to saddle the pony, and was on his way towards
+nurse's not ten minutes after he had spoken to the old woman. He made
+the pony go at a very brisk trot, wherever the steepness of the road
+would allow.
+
+"Bernard had really fallen asleep under the hedge after some time, and
+had only just awakened when Mr. Evans came trotting round the foot of
+the hill.
+
+"The worthy man no sooner saw him than he came almost cantering up,
+sprang from the quiet pony, and caught him in his arms.
+
+"'My son! my child!' he said, whilst his eyes filled with tears; 'my
+poor boy, why are you here? What has happened? Do you not know that
+when you lost a better father, you became to me like a son, and that I
+then resolved to be a father to you so long as you needed one? If
+anything goes wrong with you, my boy, under my roof, come to me and
+tell me, as you would have done to your own father, and be sure that so
+long as I have a loaf you shall have a son's portion of it.'
+
+"No one can describe the effect of Mr. Evans's kindness on the heart of
+poor Bernard; again and again he fell on his neck and kissed him; and
+so full of love and gentleness was the child that he whispered:
+
+"'Don't ask me why I ran away; I promise you that when I run again from
+the same people, I will run to you; and if you are out, I will only
+hide myself till you come back.'
+
+"'It shall not happen again,' said Mr. Evans, who had observed the
+marks of the strokes on the child's face; 'it shall not happen again; I
+will prevent it; but I will ask no questions.'
+
+"So saying, he lifted Bernard on the pony with the long tail, and
+taking the bridle in his hand, they set off together down the hill.
+
+"Mr. Evans had gone off in such a hurry that he had not told anyone
+that he had heard of Bernard; and therefore, without planning any such
+thing, he had left the people at home in the greatest trouble, their
+alarm becoming more and more every minute in which the child could not
+be found.
+
+"Mr. Evans and Bernard had first, in their way from the round hill, to
+go down a very steep bit of road, into a kind of hollow where were a
+brook and many trees, and then beyond which was a rise, and then
+another deep descent. When Bernard came to the brook, he begged that he
+might get off and drink a little water in the hollow of his hand; and
+when he had done so, he tried to make Mr. Evans mount the pony whilst
+he walked. But the kind man would not hear of any such thing; he lifted
+Bernard on the horse again, and they were just going to ascend the
+bank, when they heard a voice behind them, crying: 'Stop, stop, Master
+Bernard.'
+
+"They looked back, and there was nurse; she had come home about an hour
+before, and having heard by some chance who had been at the cottage and
+been sent away, she had had a violent quarrel with her daughter-in-law,
+and had come posting after her boy.
+
+"But before Mr. Evans and Bernard knew the voice, there was a sound of
+carriage-wheels coming from behind nurse; and so quick upon her was
+the carriage, that the horses' heads were in a line with her, when
+Bernard and Mr. Evans turned to see who called them. The road just
+there was not only steep but narrow.
+
+"'That is nurse,' said Mr. Evans; 'but we must not stop just here, or
+the carriage will be upon us; a little above there is room for the pony
+to stand aside, and the ground is there more level for the feet.'
+
+"So for the next minute or more the three parties all went on, Mr.
+Evans and Bernard going up slowly towards the level place; the carriage
+coming rapidly down the road, being drawn by horses used to steeper
+hills than that; and nurse behind at the top of her speed after the
+carriage.
+
+"Those in the carriage had known nurse as they passed, though she never
+once looked up to them; and they knew also Bernard, and good Mr. Evans,
+and the long-tailed pony.
+
+"When Mr. Evans had reached the bit of level ground, which might have
+been fifty feet, or more, from the bottom of the valley, he stopped,
+and lifted Bernard off the pony to wait for nurse.
+
+"The carriage, too, stopped at the brook, and there was a cry from it.
+'Bernard, Bernard! It is our dear, dear Bernard; open the door, open
+the door.' The door was burst open from within, and out sprang Lucilla,
+flying forward to her brother. She was followed by Mr. and Mrs. Low, as
+soon as the postboy could let down the steps.
+
+"Bernard made one effort to rush to meet Lucilla, and then fell
+unconscious upon the ground.
+
+"It is impossible to give an account of such a scene; the people who
+were present could tell nothing about it themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Low
+and Lucilla could not understand why everyone should be so surprised
+to see them; why Bernard should faint, why nurse should scream, and why
+Mr. Evans should look so white.
+
+"They had suffered much in a terrible storm, and been driven far out of
+their course, and been obliged to lie for months in some far-off
+harbour for repairs, and had had a long and weary voyage. But they had
+written letters, and supposed all this was known at home. The letters,
+however, having been sent from a very out-of-the-way place, had never
+arrived, but this they could not know.
+
+"They were not surprised at anything, when they found that all their
+friends and neighbours had thought them dead; and when Bernard, having
+had his temples bathed with water, opened his eyes and recovered his
+colour, and began to shed tears, they were no longer frightened about
+him. He was then lifted into the carriage, and held in the arms of his
+own father; nurse got upon a trunk behind, Mr. Evans mounted the pony,
+and on they went, having now only down hill to go to the village.
+
+"'Let us pass quietly, if possible, through the village,' said Mr. Low,
+'that we may get our dear boy home as soon as possible;' but Mr. Low
+could not have everything as he wished. The news was told at the very
+first house, which was the turn-pike, by Mr. Evans before the carriage,
+and by nurse behind it; and the whole street was up in a moment. There
+was such joy, that men, women, and children set up shouts; and four
+young men, who were enjoying the Whitsun holidays, flew to the church
+and set the bells a-ringing before the carriage came in sight of the
+rectory.
+
+"'Surely,' said Miss Grizzy to the dairy-maid, 'those lads are not gone
+off to the belfry, and that plague of a boy, young Low, not found yet!
+I always said he was the most ill-conditioned child that ever lived;
+and I know now he is only hiding out of malice to my poor Stephen.'
+
+"Before she could finish her speech there was a sound of wheels and of
+horses, and the barking of all the dogs about, and of doors opening;
+and the very next minute in came nurse with the news into the dairy.
+
+"Miss Grizzy was almost as ready to faint as Bernard had been--but not
+from pleasure; all her unkindnesses to the child rose before her mind,
+and it was with the greatest difficulty that she could put on even the
+appearance of being glad, whilst her worthy brother's heart was lifted
+up with joy.
+
+"When Stephen heard the news, as he came skulking in to tell his aunt
+he could find Bernard nowhere, he walked himself off with Meekin, and
+did not return till night; but he need not have done so, for Bernard
+never uttered a complaint against him or anybody else, though he spoke
+continually of the very great kindness of Mr. Evans.
+
+"The happiness of Lucilla that evening was complete. Bernard had hardly
+spoken to her before she found how changed he was.
+
+"Mr. Low was equally thankful; and Mrs. Low and nurse, though they did
+not understand the cause of the change so clearly, yet felt that their
+darling was a new and improved creature. Mr. Low, having it now in his
+power, did much to assist Mr. Evans in many ways; he felt all his
+kindnesses; he helped to furnish his new rooms, and raised his salary
+as a curate.
+
+"Miss Grizzy and Stephen left him almost immediately. Miss Grizzy went
+to keep the house of a cross old uncle, and Stephen went to his
+parents. Mr. Evans took nurse for a housekeeper, and whether she
+managed well or ill for him people do not agree; but this is certain,
+that all the boys, especially the little ones, liked her so much that
+Mr. Evans soon found even his larger house too small for his pupils.
+
+"The last we heard of Mr. Low's family was that Bernard and Lucilla had
+furnished the grotto so beautifully that every person in the
+neighbourhood came to see it; and that this brother and sister were the
+delight of their parents, and the comforters of every poor old person
+or orphan child in the parish."
+
+[Illustration: Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla]
+
+
+
+
+The Birthday Feast
+
+[Illustration: She only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+well]
+
+
+"Well," said Henry Fairchild, "it is just as I knew it would be; mine
+is the prettiest story, and it is the longest, and that is something."
+
+"No, no!" replied Emily; "if a story is stupid, its being long only
+makes it worse."
+
+"But it is not stupid," says Henry, "as it comes in at the end so
+nicely, and in so much bustle. I do love a story that ends in a great
+bustle."
+
+"Well," said Emily, "my story finishes with as great a bustle as yours;
+and we _must_ say that Lucy has chosen two very nice books; so, Lucy,
+we thank you with all our hearts."
+
+We have been so busy over the stories which Lucy brought, that we have
+taken no notice of the note and parcel which came from Miss Darwell.
+
+The note was to invite the Misses Fairchild and Master Fairchild to
+spend her birthday with her. She asked them to come very early, and
+they were to come in their playing dresses, and then they could bring
+others with them, because in the evening there would be company. She
+offered to send a carriage for them; and she said that a note would
+come to invite their parents to dinner. The little lady seemed to have
+thought of everything to make the day pleasant to them.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild's children were not so rich as Miss Darwell, but they
+were as well brought up; and Mrs. Colvin had heard this, and was glad
+to have the opportunity of seeing these children.
+
+The parcel contained a few small presents, which Emily and Lucy thought
+a great deal of, and put by amongst their treasures.
+
+The day of Miss Darwell's birthday came, after what Henry called a very
+long time. Time seems very long to children; they think a month as long
+as old people think a year. Henry talked of a year or two past as of a
+time a long while ago.
+
+Lucy and Emily looked out the very first thing that morning to see what
+weather it was; but Henry did more, he got up and went out as soon as
+he heard anyone stir, and saw John cleaning the horse, that he might be
+ready for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild in the afternoon.
+
+Soon after breakfast Mrs. Fairchild got the children ready, in their
+neatest morning dresses, according to Miss Darwell's desire; meaning to
+bring their evening things when she came. But they were hardly ready
+when a little pony-carriage, driven by a careful old man, came for them
+from Miss Darwell; for this young lady never forgot the chance of doing
+a kindness.
+
+They got into the little carriage, and were driven away. Henry sat by
+the servant in front, and his sisters in the seat behind.
+
+"My little lady," said the servant, "bade us be sure to bring you all
+safely, and very soon, Master Fairchild." And then he went on to say
+what a dear, good young lady she was. "But she bade me not tell what is
+to be done this evening; and you are not to ask anybody about it."
+
+"Then I will not," said Henry; "though I want to know very much."
+
+"To be sure you do, master,'" said the man; "but you will know
+by-and-by."
+
+As they came near the park, they saw several fine carriages drawing
+towards the house.
+
+"We are going to have a world of company," said the man; "but Miss
+Darwell has no visitors in her own rooms but you and your sisters,
+Master Fairchild. My lady would have had more invited, but Mrs. Colvin
+begged off; and so you and the young ladies are much favoured."
+
+And then, giving his horse a fillip, away they went, bowling along over
+the park amid high fern brakes, lofty trees, and many deer.
+
+"I see something white through the trees," said Henry; "look, look, all
+along under the branches--see, Lucy--see, Emily!"
+
+"Do you, master?" answered the servant; "well, that is unaccountable;
+but look before you--what do you see there?"
+
+"Only trees," replied Henry, "and fern."
+
+"Look again, master," said the man.
+
+And Henry looked again till he had quite passed the place where the
+white things might be seen, and indeed had forgotten them.
+
+When they came to the house and drove to the door, a footman appeared,
+and was directed to lead the little ladies and gentleman to Miss
+Darwell's rooms. The man went before them upstairs and along the
+galleries to the door of that very room where they had been received by
+poor Miss Augusta Noble.
+
+As the footman, having opened the door, mentioned their names, they saw
+that everything within the room was just the same as it had been. But
+there was a nice elderly lady, dressed in black silk, who sat near the
+open window. She seemed, by the book in her hand, to have been reading
+to a pretty fair girl, nearly of the age of Lucy, who sat on a stool at
+her feet.
+
+These were Mrs. Colvin and Miss Darwell; and when they heard the names
+announced, they both rose and came to meet their visitors. They both
+smiled so sweetly, and spoke so pleasantly, that they took all fear at
+once from the children.
+
+Mrs. Colvin herself took off the bonnets and tippets, and laid them
+aside; and Miss Darwell said, "I am glad you came so soon; I told
+Everard to make haste."
+
+As soon as they were ready, Miss Darwell began to talk of what they
+were to play at. Mrs. Colvin gave them leave to go out for a time to
+play in the shade of what they called the cedar-grove, a place near the
+house, but they all begged her to go with them.
+
+"Not to play, my dears," she said; "I can't run."
+
+"No, ma'am," said Lucy; "but you can have a book and sit down and read,
+as then you can see us at play."
+
+"Well, then," said Mrs. Colvin, smiling, "I will come." And away they
+all went to the cedar-grove.
+
+As they were going Henry said:
+
+"I am not to ask what is to be done this evening."
+
+"No," replied Miss Darwell; "you ought not even to say, 'I am not to
+ask.'"
+
+When they had got into the grove, and Mrs. Colvin was seated, they
+began to consult about what they should play at. As Miss Darwell had
+not often any children to play with, she did not know of half the games
+that others did.
+
+"Let us play at Little Edwy and the Echo," said Lucy.
+
+"But we have no echo here," said Miss Darwell.
+
+"Then Henry shall be Edwy, and I will be the echo: and it is me you
+shall try to catch," replied Lucy; "and you shall have to run for it.
+Henry, you must call, and I will answer, but they shall not find me."
+
+Lucy could run almost as quick as a greyhound, and she managed the game
+so well, that it took up the whole time Mrs. Colvin allowed them to
+stay out of doors. It was getting hot, and they went back into the
+house, and to their room.
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Colvin, "you shall take your visitors into your
+play-room, Miss Darwell, and leave the door open, my dear, that I may
+hear you and see you; I know you like to have me near you."
+
+"Yes, I do, dear Mrs. Colvin," said Miss Darwell; and she put her arms
+round the excellent governess's neck and kissed her; and then, running
+and opening a door, led her visitors into a large room which they had
+not seen before. It was furnished with shelves, on which many books and
+toys were ranged in order--for it was one of Mrs. Colvin's wishes to
+make her pupil neat.
+
+Mr. Fairchild's children quite cried out at the sight of these things;
+there were enough to furnish a toy-shop, besides the books.
+
+Miss Darwell said, "Which would you like?"
+
+Henry fixed upon a large Noah's ark, and when it was reached down, he
+placed himself on the floor, and made a procession of its inmates. He
+placed Noah himself in front, with his little painted wife, and Shem,
+Ham, and Japhet, and their wives after him. Then came the beasts, and
+then the birds, and then the insects and creeping things. Lucy chose a
+dissected map of England and Wales, and another which formed a picture;
+and Emily, a box of bricks and doorways, and pillars and chimneys,
+and other things for building houses.
+
+Mrs. Colvin had told the children that they were to keep themselves
+quiet till dinner-time; so Miss Darwell took her doll, and for a long
+time they were all very still with their toys: they were to dine at
+half-past one, and Henry had not done with his ark when a female
+servant came into the outer room to lay the cloth.
+
+[Illustration: "_For a long time they all very still with their toys._"
+--Page 389.]
+
+"It is time to put up now," said Mrs. Colvin, calling from the next
+room.
+
+Lucy and Emily and Henry began immediately to put the things they had
+been playing with into the cases, and Lucy was putting her dissected
+map into the place from which she had taken it, when Miss Darwell said:
+
+"Don't put it away, Miss Fairchild; it shall be tied up ready to go
+with the carriage."
+
+Lucy did not understand her.
+
+"Did you not choose it, Miss Lucy?" said Miss Darwell; "if you please
+to accept it, I will send it in the carriage to-night with the bricks
+and the ark."
+
+"Thank you, dear Miss Darwell," Lucy answered; "but we must not take
+anything, unless your mamma and my mamma give leave."
+
+At that instant Mrs. Colvin called Lucy.
+
+"I called you, my dear, to tell you that you are quite right: you ought
+never to receive a present without your mamma's leave, and ought never
+to desire to receive one. But I have no doubt that Miss Darwell will
+remember to ask Mrs. Fairchild this evening if you may have them."
+
+"I will," said Miss Darwell; "I hope I shall not forget it in the
+bustle."
+
+"Shall I tell you of it?" said Henry.
+
+Lucy and Emily got as red as scarlet when Henry said these words; but
+Mrs. Colvin whispered:
+
+"Let him alone, he is very young, and he will get wiser as he gets
+older."
+
+"I shall be obliged to you to remind me of it, Henry," said Miss
+Darwell; "and I will speak the moment I see Mrs. Fairchild."
+
+How happily did the four children and the good governess dine together
+that day before the open window, where they could smell the sweet
+flowers in the garden below, and see a large pool which was beyond the
+trees, and still beyond that the green heights of the park.
+
+"I see people," said Henry, whose eyes were everywhere, "going up the
+park by that pretty white building which looks like a temple with a
+porch--there they go--I see women and children--and there are men
+carrying baskets. What are they doing, ma'am?" he added, looking at
+Mrs. Colvin.
+
+"Taking a pleasant walk this fine afternoon," she answered; "and we
+will walk too by-and-by, but upon one condition, as it is so very warm,
+that after dinner you will each of you take a book and sit quite still,
+until I speak the word for all to move."
+
+"Might I play with Noah's ark, ma'am, instead?" said Henry; "I will not
+move."
+
+"Very well," said Mrs. Colvin; and when they had dined, she directed
+Lucy and Emily to choose their books and sit down in any place they
+chose.
+
+Miss Darwell also took a book, as did Mrs. Colvin; and so still was
+everyone, that it might have been thought that there was not a creature
+in the room but the Seven Sleepers, unless it might be two or three
+bees which came buzzing in and out.
+
+"How pleasant," thought Mrs. Colvin, "it is to have to do with
+well-behaved children! I should not mind having these little
+Fairchilds always with me, at least till Henry is fit only to be
+managed by men."
+
+Lucy and Emily wished much to know what was going to be done in the
+park, but they did not find the time long. Lucy had chosen the _History
+of Mrs. Teachum_, and Emily the _Adventures of Robin, Dicksy, Flapsy,
+and Pecksy_, quite a new book, which she had never seen before. The
+great people in the parlour were to dine at four o'clock, that they
+also might go into the park afterwards; and a little before four the
+waiting-maid came up with the best things for Master and the Misses
+Fairchild, packed in a bandbox, the pretty presents of Miss Crosbie not
+having been forgotten.
+
+When Mrs. Colvin saw the box she called the children to her; they all
+came running but Henry.
+
+"Now, my dears," she said, "you have been very quiet, and it is time to
+dress;" and she offered the maid's help to dress Lucy and Emily.
+
+"No, thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "we have no one to wait upon us at
+home; we always dress each other."
+
+"I wish," said Miss Darwell, "that I had a little sister whom I might
+dress; but Mrs. Colvin always dresses me," she added in a whisper to
+Lucy, "because she loves me, and I love her."
+
+"But where is Henry?" said Mrs. Colvin.
+
+They went to look, and there was he, sound asleep on the floor in the
+play-room, with Shem, Ham, and Japhet in his hands, and all the birds
+and beasts about him.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Colvin, "I did think he was the quietest boy that I
+had ever known, but he has lost a little credit with me now; most boys
+are quiet when they are asleep."
+
+Emily stooped down and kissed him, which caused him to wake; but when
+he was aroused he looked about him in such a surprised way that all
+the little girls laughed heartily, and he looked as if he felt ashamed.
+
+Mrs. Colvin set him to pack up his ark, whilst she showed Emily and
+Lucy into a room to dress, saying:
+
+"When you are ready, come to me, that I may see that all is right."
+
+When they were dressed they called Henry, who was yet to be dressed,
+and then sought Mrs. Colvin; she, too, was ready, and Miss Darwell was
+standing by her.
+
+The little lady, according to the taste of her mother, was set off with
+lace on her sleeves and feathers in her hat, and coloured shoes, and
+everything which could make a child fine; but her manner was not the
+least changed; she only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+well. Mrs. Colvin turned them about, examining them, and made some
+amendment in the tying and pinning.
+
+"Well," she said, "you look very nice; little girls should always
+attend to neatness; it is a compliment due to those who care for them;
+and now each of you give me a kiss, and we will be off, as I see Henry
+is now ready, and Everard is waiting." They all then went down, and
+found Everard at the hall-door with the pony-carriage. A boy was
+holding a small horse by the carriage. "Now," said Mrs. Colvin, "how is
+it to be managed, Miss Darwell? Suppose I walk?"
+
+"No, no!" cried Miss Darwell; "Henry is to ride; I know he will like
+it, and Joseph shall walk by him, and you shall sit in front with
+Everard, and we little ones will go behind. There is quite room, and it
+is a very little way, and it will be so pleasant;" and thus it was
+settled, to the immense joy of Henry.
+
+Away they went through one gate and another gate, till they came upon
+the green smooth drive which went quite round the park.
+
+"Is not this pleasant?" said Miss Darwell, taking the hand of Lucy and
+Emily on each side; "but please first to call Henry, and tell him that
+I have settled about the things. I sent a note to Mrs. Fairchild whilst
+you were dressing, with a pencil to write yes or no, and she wrote the
+right word; so Henry will not have to remind me. Mrs. Colvin always
+tells me not to put things off. But now you shall know what we are
+going to do. Mamma lets me have a pleasure on my birthday, so I asked
+to have all the children in the parish invited to have tea in the park;
+and mamma has had tents put up, and we have got music, and the children
+are to play, and the old people are to come with the children. I was
+only afraid it would not be fine, but it is fine," she added, clapping
+her hands in her great delight; "but I would not tell you, that you
+might have something to guess about."
+
+They first went up a rising ground, then they came to a grove; then
+they passed under the white building which Henry called a temple. Then
+they saw a lovely sparkling waterfall; then they came to an open place,
+green and smooth; then they came to another grove, and there they found
+that they were getting amongst the people, some of whom Henry had seen
+going to that place three or four hours before. When country people
+have a holiday, they like to make the most of it; and very soon they
+saw the tents through the trees.
+
+Henry was first, and he looked back to his sisters as if he would have
+said, "These are the white things I saw this morning." There were four
+tents; they had pointed tops, but were open on the sides; tables were
+spread in each of them, and also under the trees in various places
+round about; and there sat several musicians on a bank. The people all
+about, men and women and children, were like bees swarming about the
+tents. There were parties of young people and children who had been
+playing and amusing themselves, but they all stood still when they saw
+the carriage coming, and the music struck up a fine merry tune to
+welcome the little lady.
+
+There were none of the grand people from the house yet come; those that
+were there were chiefly the cottagers, but they had all their very best
+dresses on, and all the poor children were dressed exactly alike. They
+wore dark blue cotton frocks with white tippets, and aprons, and caps.
+There were a few persons present, seated in one of the tents, who were
+not among the poor. Henry immediately saw Mrs. Burke and her daughters,
+for Mrs. Burke smiled kindly at him; the boys were somewhere among the
+people.
+
+But though there were so many, there was no fear that the feast would
+run short, for the tables were heaped up with bread and butter and
+cakes, and fruit, and tea and sugar, and there were pails of milk
+standing under the trees, and more bread, and more fruit, and more of
+everything. It was settled that when Miss Darwell came, the feast was
+to begin.
+
+"Oh!" cried Lucy, "how pleasant everything looks!"
+
+There was not time for any more to be said, for the carriage was
+getting close to the tents; it stopped, and Mrs. Colvin and the young
+people alighted.
+
+Miss Darwell was received by many smiling faces; every child looked at
+her with innocent delight, and the women murmured, "Bless her sweet
+face!" And then orders were given that the feast was to begin, and the
+people settled themselves on the grass in small parties.
+
+Mrs. Colvin having given Miss Darwell a hint, she went to speak to Mrs.
+Burke, and invited her and her daughters to come and assist in serving
+the people, and seeing that everyone had as much as they wished.
+
+Kind Mrs. Burke was the very person to like to be asked to do such a
+thing, and the Misses Burke could not be offended when they saw Miss
+Darwell as busily engaged as she possibly could be.
+
+"Now," said she to Lucy, and Emily, and Henry, "now you are to come
+with me; look at that little party under that oak; there is a very old
+woman and two children. There are more people near, but I don't want
+you to look at them--come close to them." And they all four walked
+towards them.
+
+"Do not stir, do not speak," said Miss Darwell, to the two children and
+the old woman; "let Master and the Misses Fairchild see if they
+recognise you again."
+
+The little ones under the tree entered into the joke, and sat quite
+still. The boy, indeed, laughed and chuckled; but the little girl kept
+her countenance. The old woman did not know Mr. Fairchild's children,
+so she had no trouble to keep herself from smiling.
+
+All these three were neatly dressed, and their clothes looked quite
+new. The boy had a suit of what is called hodden-gray, with a clean
+shirt as white as the snow.
+
+"I do not know them," said Lucy.
+
+"But I do," cried Henry.
+
+"And so do I," said Emily; "they are Edward and Jane."
+
+"Yes, Miss," said the two little ones, jumping up.
+
+"And it is all through you," added Edward, "that the good little lady
+has done everything for us: and the house is new thatched, and the
+walls made as white as paper; and more money given to grandmother; and
+me cowboy at Squire Burke's; and Jane in the school--don't Jane look
+well in them clothes, sir? Oh, that was a good day when we lighted on
+you, Master and Miss!" And the poor boy pulled the front lock of his
+hair and bowed I know not how many times.
+
+When every person had as much as was good for them, and a few persons,
+perhaps, a little more, orders were given that what remained should be
+set in order in the tents for supper; and then the music struck up. And
+whilst the elder people were amusing themselves in other places, Miss
+Darwell called all the little girls to follow her into a pretty green
+glade among the trees, and hidden from the rest of the company.
+
+Mrs. Colvin went with her, for she was never willing that her good
+governess should lose sight of her; and Lucy and Emily were equally
+anxious for her presence. Henry was the only boy allowed to come.
+
+"Now, Lucy," said Miss Darwell, for she was getting quite fond of her,
+"now there is to be some play, but I do not know many games; so you and
+Emily must lead. What shall we have?"
+
+"Lucy knows a thousand thousand games!" cried Henry.
+
+After some talking, "Hunt the Hare" was chosen; and Lucy, who was a
+particularly quick runner, was chosen for the hare, and everyone was to
+follow Lucy in and out wherever she went.
+
+All the children were to stand with joined hands in a circle; Lucy was
+to be in the middle. They began with dancing round her, and when they
+stopped she was to begin to run, and after ten had been counted, one
+other was let loose to follow her, and then the whole pack, as Henry
+called them, at a signal given.
+
+Miss Darwell got between Henry and Emily in the circle; Lucy was put
+into the midst; and they danced round her, singing, "My leader, my
+leader, I will follow my leader wherever she goes!" Then they stood
+still, and Lucy began to run out under one pair of hands and in under
+another, and back again, and about and about like a needle in a piece
+of cloth; and when ten had been counted, Henry was let loose, and then
+the sport really began. They expected he would have caught her
+immediately; he was as quick as ever his little legs would allow, and
+as true to all her windings as the thread is to those of the needle.
+But when he was following Lucy the last time through the middle of the
+circle, he gave the signal for the whole party to loose hands and
+follow him, and away they all went. But they could not get on for
+laughing, for Lucy had as many pranks as Harlequin himself, so that
+several of the children, and amongst these Miss Darwell herself, fairly
+stood still to laugh.
+
+This game lasted for some time. Then came "Puss in the Corner"; and
+then, as Mrs. Colvin thought there had been strong exercise enough, the
+evening being very hot, she made all the children sit down, and asked
+who could tell a story.
+
+"Lucy can," said Emily; and Lucy then, without hesitation, told the
+story of "Edwy and the Echo," by the particular desire of Miss Darwell.
+
+Lucy had one particularly pleasing quality, which arose in some degree
+from the habit of quick obedience in which she had been brought up;
+this was, that when, in company, desired by a proper person to do
+anything she could to make herself agreeable, she immediately tried;
+and when Mrs. Colvin had said, "If you can tell the story, Miss Lucy,
+do favour us with it," she took her place, and did it as easily as if
+Emily and Henry only had been by. Emily had the same wish to make
+herself pleasant as Lucy had, but she was naturally more shy. Everybody
+was so pleased with Lucy's story that she told another, and that was
+the story of "Margot and the Golden Fish," which delighted everyone,
+and was a useful story to the poor children.
+
+But now the sun was beginning to dip its golden disc below the hills,
+and the sound was heard of carriages. Mr. and Mrs. Darwell, and those
+who had dined with them, were come up into the park.
+
+Mrs. Colvin called on all the village children to put themselves in the
+neatest order, and to take their places two and two, she herself
+arranging Lucy and Emily and Miss Darwell in their bonnets and tippets;
+and then walked with her train to join the company.
+
+A great number of fine ladies and gentlemen were in the midst and
+within the tents, and there were Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+Mrs. Darwell spoke civilly, but very coldly, to Lucy and Emily. Mr.
+Darwell spoke kindly. The ladies and gentlemen had a great deal to say
+to Miss Darwell, but she was become very reserved among so many
+strangers, and seemed to cling close to Mrs. Colvin.
+
+The village people were then offered more refreshments, and as they
+could not take much, everything that was left was ordered to be given
+amongst them; but none of them had gone, when all who had come from the
+house returned to it.
+
+"I am very sorry you are going, dear Lucy and Emily and Henry," said
+Miss Darwell; "I have had the happiest day I ever had in my life. I
+thought I should like you, but I did not know how very much it would
+be."
+
+The little girls then kissed each other, and Mrs. Colvin gave them a
+note for their mother.
+
+"This," she said, "is to tell Mrs. Fairchild, that I care not how often
+you and Miss Darwell meet. I can add no more to that."
+
+The children were to go home with their father and mother; and if they
+loved Miss Darwell much already, they loved her more for her kindness
+when they saw three large brown paper parcels under the seat of the
+little carriage.
+
+They had a sweet drive home, though they had not time to tell all that
+had happened to their mother till the next day; but their parents knew,
+from Mrs. Colvin's note, as soon as they got home, that their children
+had behaved very well.
+
+[Illustration: "_In their neatest morning dresses._"--Page 383.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma Fairchild
+
+[Illustration: "Will Lucy love me?" said the old lady]
+
+
+After this very pleasant day at the park, and long before Lucy and
+Emily had left off talking about it, a note came from Miss Darwell, to
+say that they were all going to the sea, for which she was sorry,
+because she wanted to see them all again.
+
+Lucy answered the note, and said that she and Emily were also very,
+very sorry; and this they truly were. Several weeks then passed, and
+nothing particular happened, till a letter came from their grandmamma,
+saying that her grand-daughter was very ill, and much desired to see
+her uncle. "Indeed," added the old lady, "I feel that I shall be
+required to give up my Ellen also; but God does all things well."
+
+The letter came at breakfast-time, and Mr. Fairchild resolved to set
+out as soon as he possibly could get ready. There was a great bustle
+for the next hour, and then Mr. Fairchild took leave of his family, and
+was driven by John to the town--he was to go on from thence by the
+coach.
+
+The children stood to see them off, and then walked back into the
+house. Their mother told them to take their needlework and sit down in
+the parlour; and she gave Henry a book to read whilst she was busy in
+another part of the house. It was a very hot day, the window was open,
+and all was still--even the children did not speak for some time; at
+last Lucy said:
+
+"I hope poor cousin Ellen will not die. What will grandmamma do if she
+dies?"
+
+"If she did not live so far off," said Emily, "perhaps we might comfort
+her."
+
+"I never remember seeing her but twice," said Lucy, "and you never saw
+her, Henry."
+
+They went on talking about their grandmother till Mrs. Fairchild came
+in and sat down with them, and they still went on with the subject,
+asking her many questions, especially wherefore their grandmother had
+come so seldom to see them, and why they had not been asked to see her.
+From one thing to another they went on till they heard a much more
+regular account of the history of their family than they had ever heard
+before.
+
+"When I first knew your father's family, my dears," said Mrs.
+Fairchild, "your grandmother was living in Reading with two sons: the
+elder brother soon afterwards went to the East Indies, where he married
+and had several children. Your father was intended to have been a
+clergyman, but before he could be ordained he was attacked with an
+illness, which finished with such a weakness in the chest, that he knew
+he could never read the Service without danger. We had enough to live
+on, and we settled here, and here you were all born."
+
+"Yes," said Lucy, "and we love this dear place. We shall never like
+another so well; it would grieve me to leave it."
+
+"We must take things as they come," said Mrs. Fairchild, going on with
+her history. "Your uncle was abroad several years, and was enabled to
+make a very good fortune. Whilst you were a very little baby, Lucy, he
+returned to England, and then purchased that place where your
+grandmamma now lives, a place known by the name of The Grove, between
+Reading and London, on the banks of the Thames. His wife had died
+abroad, and several children also in infancy. He brought with him two
+little girls, of five and six years of age, Emily and Ellen; and they
+were lovely little creatures then," said Mrs. Fairchild; "their very
+paleness making them only look the more lovely. When I saw that sweet
+little Emily, I resolved, that if ever I had another girl, it should be
+an Emily.
+
+"My nieces lost their father only one year after they came to England,
+and then their grandmother settled herself quite down to give all her
+attention to them; and truly, from the extreme delicacy of their
+health, they needed all the care that she could give them. From the
+very earliest period of their lives they were invariably gentle,
+humble, and attentive to the comfort of every person who came near to
+them."
+
+"Were not they like Miss Darwell?" said Henry, who had dropped his
+book, and was listening with all his attention.
+
+"I think they were, Henry," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "and their outward
+circumstances were much alike--they were, like her, the daughters of a
+rich man, and brought up very tenderly. It was about four years since,"
+she continued, "that your lovely cousin Emily died of a rapid decline.
+A little before her death, seeing her sister weeping bitterly, she
+said, 'Do not cry, gentle sister, we shall not be parted long.' Ellen
+never forgot those words, though it was not till some time afterwards
+that she reminded your grandmamma of them."
+
+"And do you think she will now die, mamma, and go to her Emily?" said
+Lucy.
+
+"I cannot say," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "but she has certainly been
+gradually falling off ever since she lost her sister."
+
+Mr. Fairchild wrote every day; his accounts from the first were bad;
+they became worse and worse as to the hopes respecting the poor young
+lady, and her grandmother's anxiety. At last a letter came to say that
+she was dead, but had died in great peace.
+
+The children cried very much, but more for their grandmother than for
+their cousin; for they had not a doubt that she was happy. Then, too,
+Lucy and Emily began to think how they could make up the loss to the
+old lady, if she would but come and live with them; and then they began
+to plan what rooms she could have, and were a little puzzled because
+the house was very small; yet Lucy said she thought it might be
+contrived.
+
+The next letter from Mr. Fairchild said that he had persuaded his
+mother to leave The Grove for a few weeks; and that she was to set out
+the next day with her maid, whilst he remained to settle everything.
+
+The old lady was expected to come the day after the next, as she would
+sleep on the road; and there was much to be done to get everything
+ready, and to see after mourning.
+
+Lucy and Emily had many plans for comforting their grandmother; and as
+the old lady was used to be wheeled about in a Bath-chair, John was
+sent to the Park to borrow one which had belonged to Sir Charles
+Noble's mother.
+
+The elder Mrs. Fairchild was old, and had long been affected by
+lameness, which prevented her from walking with ease; and this her
+daughter-in-law knew. There was nothing she would not have done to make
+her comfortable. Henry cheerfully gave up his room for the maid, and
+had a little bed put up for him in the play-room. He had settled that
+he was to be his grandmother's horse as soon as he saw the Bath-chair.
+
+The children had not known much of their cousins; they had been at
+their grandmother's only once since they could remember, for the very
+bad health of their cousins had prevented their going with their father
+when he went to see his mother; they could not therefore feel for their
+cousins as if they had known them well, but they thought very much of
+their grandmother's loss.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild had settled that the old lady was to have the use of
+their little drawing-room, and no one but herself was to go to her in
+that room unless she wished it; and she told the children they must
+expect her to be very sad indeed till after the funeral, and that they
+must be very quiet, and not come in her sight unless she desired it.
+
+She was not expected until the evening of the third day after they had
+heard she was coming; and then Henry went up to the top of the round
+hill to watch for the carriage, and to be the first to give notice of
+it.
+
+It was not far from six o'clock when he first saw it coming down the
+hill towards the village, and he was not sure of it for some time; he
+then ran in, and went up with Lucy and Emily to their window to wait
+till it came.
+
+After a while they heard the sound of it; then they saw John go to the
+gate and set it open; then they drew back a little, not to be seen, and
+came forward when the carriage stopped, but they did not see the old
+lady get out. Mrs. Fairchild was below to receive her, and to lead her
+into the house: but they saw the maid busy in seeing the things taken
+out of the carriage, and they heard her giving her orders. This maid
+was not the same who had for years waited on the old lady, but one who
+had taken the place whilst the old waiting-maid stayed behind to take
+care of the house. This new maid called herself Miss Tilney: her
+mistress called her Jane, but no one else took that liberty. She was
+dressed as smartly as she could be in deep mourning; and she gave
+orders in such a sharp tone that the children could hear every word she
+said.
+
+She called Betty "young woman," and bade her carry up some of the
+parcels to her lady's room. She asked John his name; and told the
+postboy he was not worth his salt.
+
+"Well," said Henry, "there will be no need for my making a noise to
+disturb grandmamma; that woman would make enough for us all."
+
+"That woman!" cried Emily; "don't speak so loud, she will hear you."
+
+In a few minutes the boxes were all removed, and the carriage driven
+away; and then the children heard the maid's voice talking to Betty in
+the next room, which was the only spare room in the house. They heard
+her say, "Well, to be sure, but our rooms at The Grove are so large,
+that one is not used to such bandboxes as these."
+
+"I am sure," said Henry, "the room is good enough for her:" and he was
+going to say more, when his sisters stopped him, and begged him not to
+listen. "I don't listen," he answered; "I hear without listening."
+
+They were interrupted by Mrs. Fairchild, who came to tell them that
+their grandmother had asked for them. Mrs. Fairchild walked first, and
+opened the drawing-room door; there they saw their grandmother. She was
+a neat little old lady in black, exactly such as they fancied Mrs.
+Howard had been. She was seated, and looked very pale. At the sight of
+them she became paler than before; she held out her hands to them, and
+they all three rushed into her arms.
+
+"My children, my precious children!" said the old lady, kissing one and
+another as they pressed forward.
+
+"We will be your own grandchildren," said Lucy; "we will comfort you
+and read to you, and do everything for you. Do not be unhappy, dear
+grandmamma, we will all be your own children."
+
+The old lady was scarcely able to speak, but she murmured to herself:
+
+"Yes, my God is good, I am not left without comfort."
+
+"Stand back, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "and let your grandmamma
+look at you quietly--you overpower her."
+
+They drew back. The old lady wiped away a tear or two which dimmed her
+sight, and then, with a gentle smile, she looked first at Lucy.
+
+"She has the oval face and gentle look so dear to me," said the old
+lady; "this is Lucy. Will Lucy love me?"
+
+The little girl, being thus called upon, fell again on grandmamma's
+neck, and quite sobbed with feeling; she soon, however, recovered
+herself, and pointing to her sister:
+
+"This is Emily, grandmamma," she said.
+
+"Another Emily!" replied the old lady, "I am rich indeed!" and, fixing
+her eyes on the younger little girl, "I could almost think I had my
+child again. Daughter," she added, speaking to Mrs. Fairchild, "do my
+eyes deceive me? Is there not a likeness? But your little girls are
+such exactly as I fondly wished them to be. And this is Henry, our
+youngest one;" and she took his hand in hers, and said, "Did you expect
+to see grandmamma looking so very old, my little man?"
+
+"No, ma'am," replied Henry, "not quite so old;" and the little boy made
+a bow, thinking how very civil he ought to be to his own father's
+mother.
+
+"He does not mean to be rude, ma'am," said Lucy.
+
+"I see it, my dear," replied the old lady, smiling. "Do not, I pray
+you, say anything to destroy his honesty--the world will soon enough
+teach him to use deception."
+
+Henry did not understand all this, but fearing, perhaps, to lose his
+place as grandmamma's horse, he took the occasion to ask if he might
+not be her horse.
+
+"What is it, my child?" said the old lady.
+
+"May I be your horse, ma'am?" he said.
+
+"My horse?" repeated the old lady, looking for an explanation from
+Lucy; and when she had got it, she made him quite happy by assuring him
+that no horse could please her better.
+
+She did not drink tea that evening with the family, and went very early
+to bed; but having seen them all that evening, she was ready to meet
+them more calmly in the morning, and quite prepared to rejoice in the
+blessing of having such grandchildren to make up her losses.
+
+
+
+
+Great Changes
+
+[Illustration: "Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like"]
+
+
+Henry arose the next morning as soon as he heard the step of John in
+the garden, and was very soon with him, asking him what he could do to
+help him. Henry loved to help John.
+
+John did not answer in his own cheerful way, but said:
+
+"I don't know, Master Henry; it can't much matter now, I reckon, what
+we do, or what we leave undone."
+
+"Why, John?" said Henry.
+
+"You will know soon enough," John answered, "but it shan't be from me
+you shall learn it. I suppose, however," he added, "that we must get
+the peas for dinner; folks must eat, though the world should come to an
+end next Michaelmas."
+
+"What is the matter, John?" said Henry; "I am sure something is."
+
+"Well," replied John, "if there is nothing else, is it not enough to
+have that lady's-maid there in the kitchen finding fault with
+everything, and laying down the law, and telling me to my face that I
+don't understand so much as to graff a tree?"
+
+"Who says so, John?" asked Henry.
+
+"Why, my lady's maid," replied John; "that Miss Tilney or Tolney, or
+some such name, as is written as large as life on her boxes. As to the
+old lady, she has a good right to come here, but she did very wrong to
+bring that woman with her, to disturb an orderly family. Why, Master
+Henry, she makes ten times the jabbering Mag does."
+
+"I wish, then, she would fly away over the barn," said Henry, "as Mag
+did."
+
+"We would none of us go after her," replied John, "to bring her back;
+but I am a fool," added the honest man; "here have I lived ever since
+master came here, and most of these trees did I plant and graff with my
+own hands, and made the sparrow-grass beds and all, and now this woman
+is to come with her nonsense, and turn everything topsy-turvy."
+
+Henry was quite puzzled; he saw that John was vexed, and he knew that
+the words topsy-turvy meant upside-down; but he could not understand
+how the lady's-maid could turn the roots of the trees up in the air. He
+was going to ask an explanation, when a very shrill voice was heard
+screaming, "Mr. John, Mr. John!"
+
+"There again!" cried John, "even the garden can't be clear of
+her--there, Master Henry, put down the basket and be off, she is no
+company for you. If you see her, and she asks for me, tell her I am
+gone to clean the pig-sty; she will not follow me there." So off ran
+John one way, and Henry another.
+
+But Henry was not so lucky in his flight as John was; he ran into a
+narrow walk enclosed on each side with filberts, and before he was
+aware came quite opposite to the lady's-maid. He thought she looked
+very fine--quite a lady herself; and he stopped short, and wished her
+good-morning. Had she been the poorest person he would have done the
+same, for his parents had taken great pains to make him civil to
+everyone.
+
+"Master Fairchild, I presume," cried the maid. "A charming morning,
+sir. I was looking for Mr. John, to ask him if he would please to
+select some flowers to arrange in my mistress's room: she always has
+flowers in her dressing-room at The Grove."
+
+"John," said Henry, "is gone to clean the pig-sty."
+
+The lady's-maid drew up her lip, and looked disgusted.
+
+"Faugh!" said she, "I shall not think of troubling _him_ to cull the
+flowers."
+
+"Shall I get some for grandmamma?" asked Henry.
+
+She thanked him for his politeness, and accepted his offer.
+
+The little boy walked before her to where there was a bit of raised
+ground covered with rose-bushes.
+
+"There, ma'am," he said, "you can gather any you like."
+
+"Upon my word, Master Fairchild, you are uncommon polite," she said; "I
+shall tell our people at home what a handsome genteel young gentleman
+you are. They will be so desirous to know all about you--and not at all
+high and proud neither, though you have such great prospects."
+
+"What do you mean by great prospects, ma'am?" asked Henry; "I do not
+understand you."
+
+"That is your humility, Master Fairchild," said the maid; "to be sure,
+this place is but small, and I wonder how you could have managed in it
+so long, but it is neat and very genteel; yet, when you have seen The
+Grove, you will think nothing of this little box here."
+
+"What box?" asked Henry.
+
+"This house, Master Fairchild," she answered; "you might put the whole
+place into the hall at The Grove."
+
+"What an immense hall!" said Henry in amazement.
+
+"Poor Betty, as I tell her," said the maid, "will be quite out of her
+place amongst so many servants; she can't bear to hear it talked of."
+
+"What talked of?" answered Henry. "But please not to gather the
+rose-buds; mamma does not like them to be gathered."
+
+"To be sure, Master Fairchild," said the maid, "and that is just right.
+In a small garden like this one should be particular; yet, at The
+Grove, a few rose-buds would never be missed. But you are a very good
+young gentleman to be so attentive to your dear mamma; I am sure I
+shall delight our people by the account I shall have to give when I go
+back; and I am to go back when Mrs. Johnson comes, and that will be in
+a few days. I shall tell them there that you are not only very good,
+but vastly genteel, and so like pretty Miss Ellen--and she was quite a
+beauty--dear young lady! You will see her picture as large as life in
+the drawing-room at The Grove, Master Fairchild."
+
+Henry did not understand one-half of what the maid said to him, and was
+very glad when he heard the step of someone coming round the little
+mound of rose-bushes. It was Emily's step; she came to call him to
+breakfast; she was dressed with a clean white pinafore, and her hair
+hung about her face in soft ringlets; she looked grave, but, in her
+usual way, mild and gentle.
+
+When she saw the maid, she, too, said, "Good-morning."
+
+"That young lady is your sister, no doubt, Master Fairchild," said the
+maid.
+
+"It is Emily," said Henry.
+
+"I should have known the sweet young lady anywhere," she answered; "so
+like the family, so pretty and so genteel. Miss Emily, I wish you
+health to enjoy your new place."
+
+Emily was as much puzzled as Henry had been with Miss Tilney's
+speeches. She said, "Thank you, ma'am," however, and walked away with
+Henry.
+
+Their grandmother had slept later than usual; she had not rested well
+in the early part of the night, and had fallen asleep after the rest of
+the family were gone down.
+
+She was not, therefore, present in the parlour; and when Henry came in,
+and had gotten his breath--for he and Emily had run to the house--he
+began to repeat some of the things which the maid had said to him, and
+to ask what they meant. Emily also repeated her speech to herself; and
+Lucy looked to her mother to explain these strange things.
+
+"Cannot you guess, my children?" said Mrs. Fairchild, rather changing
+countenance; "but I had hoped that for a few days this business might
+not be explained to you. Our servants would not have told you, but I
+see that others will, so perhaps it is best that you should hear it
+now."
+
+"What is it, mamma?" said all three at once; "nothing bad, we hope."
+
+"Not bad," replied Mrs. Fairchild, "though it is what I and your dear
+papa had never wished for."
+
+"Oh, do tell us!" said Lucy, trembling.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild then told them that, by the death of their poor cousin,
+their father had come into the possession of the house and estate at
+The Grove, and, in fact, the whole of his late brother's fortune.
+
+The children could not at first understand this, but when they did,
+they were much excited.
+
+Their mother, after a while, told them that it would probably be
+necessary for them to leave that dear place, and go to The Grove, their
+grandmamma wishing to be always with them, and having her own
+comfortable rooms at The Grove.
+
+Lucy and Emily began to shed tears on hearing of this, but they said
+nothing at that time.
+
+Henry said:
+
+"But John, mamma, and Betty--what can we do without them?"
+
+"Can't they go with us, my dear?" said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"And John Trueman, and nurse, and Mary Bush, and Margery,
+and--and--and----" added Henry, not being able to get out any more
+names in his impatience.
+
+"And the school!" said Emily.
+
+"We do not live in the same house with these persons last mentioned,"
+answered Mrs. Fairchild, "and therefore they would not miss us as those
+would do with whom we may reside; we must help them at a distance. If
+you, Lucy and Emily, have more money given you now, you must save it
+for these poor dear people. Kind Mrs. Burke will divide it amongst them
+as they want it; and she will look after the school."
+
+"Oh, Emily!" said Lucy, "we will save all we can."
+
+Emily could not speak, but she put her hand in Lucy's, and Lucy knew
+what that meant.
+
+Who could think of lessons such a day as this? As soon as breakfast was
+over, Henry ran to talk to John about all that he heard: and Lucy and
+Emily, with their mother's leave, went out into the air to recover
+themselves before they appeared in the presence of their grandmother.
+They were afraid of meeting the maid, so they went up to the top of the
+round hill, and seated themselves in the shade of the beech-trees.
+
+For a little while they looked about them, particularly down on the
+house and garden and the pleasant fields around them, every corner of
+which they knew as well as children always know every nook in the
+place in which they have spent their early days. They were both
+shedding tears, and yet trying to hide them from each other. Lucy was
+the first who spoke.
+
+"Oh, Emily!" she said, "I cannot bear to think of leaving this dear
+home. Can we ever be so happy again as we have been here?"
+
+The little girls were silent again for some minutes, and then Lucy went
+on:
+
+"Oh, Emily! how many things I am thinking of! There--don't you see the
+little path winding through the wood to the hut? How many happy
+evenings we have had in that hut! Shall we ever have another? And there
+is the way to Mary Bush's."
+
+"Do you remember the walk we had there with Betty a long time ago?"
+said Emily.
+
+"Ah! I can remember, still longer ago, when you were very little, and
+Henry almost a baby," said Lucy, "papa carrying us over the field there
+to nurse's, and getting flowers for us."
+
+"I should like," she added, "to live in this place, and all of us
+together, just as we are now, a hundred years."
+
+"I feel we shall never come back if we go away," said Emily.
+
+"We shall never come back and be what we have been," replied Lucy;
+"that time is gone, I know. This is our last summer in this happy
+place. Oh, if I had known it when we were reading Henry's story at the
+hut, how very sad I should have been!"
+
+"I cannot help crying," said Emily; "and I must not cry before our poor
+grandmamma."
+
+"These things which are happening," said Lucy, "make me think of what
+mamma has often said, that it seldom happens that many years pass
+without troubles and changes. I never could understand them before, but
+I do now."
+
+"Because," added Emily, "we have lived such a very, very long time just
+in the same way."
+
+The two little girls sat talking until they both became more calm; but
+they had left off talking of their own feelings some time before they
+left the hill, and began to speak of their grandmother; and they tried
+to put away their own little griefs, as far as they could, that they
+might comfort her. With these good thoughts in their minds, they came
+down the hill and returned to the house.
+
+[Illustration: "_It was Emily's step._"--Page 411.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma and the Children
+
+[Illustration: Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories]
+
+
+"I don't care so much now," said Henry, meeting them at the door; "John
+says he will go with us, if it is to the world's end, or as far as the
+moon; and Betty says she will go too; and we can take the horse and
+Mag--so we shall do. But grandmamma is up and has had her breakfast,
+and we have got the Bath-chair ready, and she says that she will let us
+draw her round the garden; and I am to pull, and John says he will come
+and push, if the lady's-maid is not there too. He says that the worst
+thing about going with us, is that lady's-maid; and he hopes, for that
+reason, that the house will be very large."
+
+Lucy and Emily ran to their grandmother; she was in the drawing-room;
+she kissed and blessed them, and looked at them with tears in her eyes.
+
+"Grandmamma," said Lucy, "we have thought about it, and we will go with
+you to The Grove, and be your own children; only we would like you best
+to stay here."
+
+"My own sweet children," replied the old lady, "we will refer all
+these things to your papa and mamma. I am too old, and you are too
+young, to manage worldly matters; so we will leave these cares to those
+who are neither so young nor so old; God will guide them, I know, to
+what is best."
+
+"Come, grandmamma," said Henry, putting his head only into the room,
+"the carriage is ready."
+
+"And so am I," said the old lady, and she stepped out into the passage,
+and was soon in her Bath-chair.
+
+John was ready to push, but seeing the maid come out to take her place
+behind the chair, he walked away without a word.
+
+Miss Tilney, as she called herself, had not much to say before her
+mistress, so that she did not disturb the little party.
+
+They did not go beyond the garden, but stopped often in shady places,
+where one of the children sat at their grandmother's feet, and the
+others on the grass.
+
+The old lady seemed sometimes to have difficulty to be cheerful. She
+was often thinking, no doubt, of what was going on at The Grove, for
+the funeral was not over. She could not yet speak of the children she
+had lost.
+
+Lucy guessed what made her sad, and for some minutes she was thinking
+what she could say to amuse her; she thought of several subjects to
+speak about; and, young as she was, settled in her own mind she must
+not speak of anything sad. At last she thought of what she would say,
+and she began by asking her if she saw a high piece of ground covered
+with trees at some distance.
+
+"I do, my dear," replied the old lady.
+
+"Would you like to hear about an old house which is beyond that wood?"
+
+The grandmother was not so desirous of hearing about the old house, as
+she was to hear how her little grand-daughter could talk. By the words
+of children we may learn a great deal of their characters, and how they
+have been taught; and so she begged Lucy to tell her about this old
+house.
+
+It was Mrs. Goodriche's house that Lucy meant: and she began by telling
+what sort of a house it was; and who lived in it now; and what a kind
+lady she was; and how they went often to see her; and what pretty
+stories she could tell them, particularly about Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Mrs. Howard!" repeated old Mrs. Fairchild, "I have heard of her; I
+knew the family of the Symondses well. Do, Lucy, tell me all you know
+about that good lady."
+
+How pleasant it was to Lucy to think that she had found out the very
+thing to amuse her grandmother; and she went on, and on, until, with a
+word or two now and then from Emily, she had told the two stories of
+Mrs. Howard, and told them very prettily and straightforward--not as
+Henry would have done, with the wrong end foremost, but right forward,
+and everything in its place. Mrs. Fairchild had always accustomed her
+little girls to give accounts of any books they read; and Lucy had
+always been particularly clever in doing this exercise well.
+
+Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories--pleased every
+way; and it might be seen that she was so by her often asking her to go
+on.
+
+The maid was also much amused, and when Lucy had told all, she said to
+her mistress:
+
+"Indeed, ma'am, Miss Lucy is a most charming young lady, as agreeable
+as she is pretty, and I am sure you have the greatest reason to be
+proud of her; and, indeed, of the other young lady, too, Miss Emily;
+and Master Fairchild himself, he does honour to his family."
+
+"None of this, Tilney, I beg," said the old lady; "I rejoice in what I
+see of these dear children, and I thank God on their account; but we
+must not flatter them. I thank my Lucy for her stories, and her wishes
+to amuse poor grandmamma; and I thank my gentle Emily for the help she
+has given; but as to little boys in pinafores doing honour to their
+families, you must know that is quite out of the question. It is enough
+for me to say that I love my little boy, and that I find him very kind,
+and that I think his dear papa and mamma have, so far, brought him up
+well."
+
+About noon the little party went into the house: the old lady lay down
+to read, and the rest went to their own rooms. They met again at
+dinner, and at tea; then came another airing; and they finished the day
+with reading the Bible and prayers.
+
+Several days passed much in the same way, till Mr. Fairchild returned.
+He brought grandmamma's own servant with him; and Miss Tilney, to the
+great joy of John and Betty, went the next day.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had much business to do, for it was settled that
+they were all to move to The Grove in the autumn; but the old lady,
+having her own maid with her, and having become very fond of the
+children, did not depend on her son and daughter for amusement.
+
+After Mr. Fairchild returned, she went out much farther in the
+Bath-chair, and was drawn to many of the places loved by the children.
+That summer was one of the finest ever known in the country, and many
+were the hours spent by the little party about the Bath-chair, in the
+shade of the woods.
+
+At these times grandmamma would often speak of the children she had
+lost, and of the happy years which she had spent with them. How very
+pleasant good and cheerful old people are! They are pleasanter than
+young ones, because they have seen so much, and have so many old
+stories to tell. Grandmamma remembered the time when ladies wore large
+hoops and long ruffles and lappets, and when gentlemen's coats were
+trimmed with gold lace. She could tell of persons who had been born
+above a hundred years ago, persons she had herself seen and talked to;
+and her way of talking was not like that of many grown-up people who
+make children covetous and envious. That was not grandmamma's way; she
+was like the eagle in the fable, always trying to encourage her eaglets
+to fly upwards; and she did this so pleasantly that her grandchildren
+were never tired of hearing her talk. One of grandmamma's stories is so
+interesting that we will relate it in this place.
+
+[Illustration: "_A hundred years ago._"--Page 455.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part I.
+
+[Illustration: To teach little Francis his letters]
+
+
+"Will it not sound very strange to you, my dear children," said old
+Mrs. Fairchild, "to hear me talk of people, whom I knew very well, who
+were born one hundred years or more ago? But when you know that I can
+remember many things which happened seventy years ago, and that I then
+knew several people who were more than seventy years old--even Henry
+will be able to make out more than a hundred years since the time that
+they were born."
+
+"Stop, grandmamma," said Henry, "and I will do the sum in the sand."
+
+Henry then took a stick and wrote 70 on the ground.
+
+"Now add to that another seventy, and cast it up, my boy," said
+grandmamma.
+
+"It comes," cried Henry, "to a hundred and forty; only think,
+grandmamma, you can remember people who were born a hundred and forty
+years ago: how wonderful!"
+
+"And the odd years are not counted," remarked Emily: "perhaps if we
+were to count them they might come up to a hundred and fifty."
+
+"Very likely, my dears," said the old lady; "so do you all sit still,
+and I will begin my story.
+
+"One hundred and, we will say, forty years ago, there resided near the
+town of Reading, in which I was born, a very wealthy family, descended
+from the nobility, though through a younger son.
+
+"There are some reasons why I shall not mention the real name, or
+rather the first name of the family, for it had two; I will therefore
+give the second, which was Vaughan. They had many houses and fine
+lands, amongst which was The Grove, the place which we have now.
+
+"The Mrs. Vaughan who was married one hundred and forty years ago was a
+very particular woman, and insisted on abandoning all her pleasant
+places in the country, and residing in a very dull and dismal
+old-fashioned place just at the end of one of the streets at Reading. I
+shall tell you more about that place by-and-by.
+
+"This lady had four daughters before she had a son; not one of these
+daughters ever married. They were reared in the greatest pride, and no
+one was found good enough to marry them. There was Mistress Anne, and
+Mistress Catherine, and Mistress Elizabeth, and Mistress Jane, for in
+these old days the title of Miss was not often used.
+
+"After many years, Mrs. Vaughan added a son to her family, and soon
+afterwards became a widow.
+
+"This son lived many years unmarried, and was what you, my children,
+would call an old man, when he took a young and noble wife. The
+daughter and only child of this Mr. Vaughan was about my age, and she
+is the person whose history I am going to tell you.
+
+"There is a picture of her at The Grove in the room in which your dear
+cousins spent many of their early days. It is drawn at full length, and
+is as large as life. It represents a child, of maybe five years of
+age, in a white frock, placing a garland on the head of a lamb; behind
+the child, an old-fashioned garden is represented, and a distant view
+of The Grove house in which she was born."
+
+"But, grandmamma," said Henry, "you have not told us that little girl's
+name."
+
+"Her name was Evelyn," answered the old lady; "the only person I ever
+knew with that name."
+
+"But it is a pretty one," remarked Lucy.
+
+"There were a great many people to make a great bustle about little
+Evelyn, when she came: there were her own mother and her father, and
+there were the four proud aunts, and many servants and other persons
+under the family, for it was known that if no more children were born,
+Evelyn would have all her father's lands, and houses, and parks, and
+all her mother's and aunts' money and jewels.
+
+"But, with all these great expectations, Evelyn's life began with
+sorrow. Her mother died before she could speak, and her father also,
+very soon after he had caused her picture to be drawn with the lamb."
+
+"Poor little girl!" said Lucy; "all her riches could not buy her
+another papa and mamma. But what became of her then, grandmamma?"
+
+"She was taken," added the old lady, "to live under the care of her
+aunts, at the curious old house I spoke of as being close at the end of
+the town of Reading; and she desired to bring nothing with her but the
+pet lamb, which, by this time, was getting on to be as big as a sheep,
+though it still knew her, and would eat out of her hand, and would
+frisk about her.
+
+"The four Mistresses Vaughan were at the very head and top of formal
+and fashionable people. As far as ever I knew them, and I knew them
+very well at one time, they were all form, and ceremony, and outside
+show, in whatever they did, until they were far, very far advanced in
+years, and had been made, through many losses and sorrows, to feel the
+emptiness of all worldly things. But I have reason to hope that the
+eyes of some of them were then opened to think and hope for better
+things than this life can give; but I shall speak of them as they were
+when Evelyn was under their care, and when I was acquainted well with
+them.
+
+"The entrance to the house where they lived was through heavy stone
+gates, which have long since been removed; and along an avenue formed
+by double rows of trees, many of which are now gone.
+
+"I have often, when a little child, been taken by my nurse to walk in
+that avenue; and I thought it so very long, that had I not seen it
+since, I could have fancied it was miles in length."
+
+"That is just like me, grandmamma," said Henry; "when I was a little
+boy, I used to think that the walk through Mary Bush's wood was miles
+and miles long."
+
+"And so did I," added Emily; and then the story went on.
+
+"At the farthest end of this avenue," continued grandmamma, "the ground
+began to slope downwards, and then the house began to appear, but so
+hidden by tall dark cypress-trees, and hedges, and _walls_, I may call
+them, of yew and box and hornbeam, all cut in curious forms and shapes,
+that one could only here and there see a gable, or a window, or door,
+but in no place the whole of the front. The house had been built many,
+many years before, and it was a curious wild place both within and
+without, though immensely large. The way up to the door of the
+principal hall was by a double flight of stone steps, surmounted with
+huge carved balustrades. Nothing could, however, be seen from any
+window of the house but trees; those which were near being cut into
+all sorts of unnatural forms, and those which were beyond the garden
+growing so thickly as entirely to shut out the rays of the sun from the
+ground below."
+
+"I should like to see that place, grandmamma," said Lucy.
+
+"You would see little, my child," replied the old lady, "of what it was
+seventy years ago. I am told that it is altogether changed. But if the
+place was gloomy and stiff without, it was worse within, where the four
+old ladies ordered and arranged everything. I can tell you how they
+passed their days. They all breakfasted either in their own
+dressing-rooms or in bed, being waited upon by their own maids."
+
+"Why did they do that, grandmamma?" asked Henry.
+
+"I will tell you, my dear," answered the old lady. "At that time, when
+I was a little girl, and knew those ladies, people dressed in that
+stiff troublesome way which you may have seen in old pictures.
+
+"The ladies wore, in the first place, very stiff stays; and those who
+thought much of being smart, had them laced as tight as they could well
+bear. Added to these stays, they wore hoops or petticoats well
+stiffened with whalebone. Some of these hoops were of the form of a
+bell with the mouth downwards--these were the least ugly; others were
+made to stand out on each side from the waist, I am afraid to say how
+far; but those made for grand occasions were nearly as wide as your arm
+would be, if it were extended on one side as far as it would go. Over
+these hoops came the petticoats and gowns, which were made of the
+richest silk--for a gown in those days would have cost thirty or forty
+pounds. Then there was always a petticoat and a train; and these, in
+full dress, were trimmed with the same silk in plaits and flounces,
+pinked and puckered, and I know not what else. The sleeves were made
+short and tight, with long lace trebled ruffles at the elbows; and
+there were peaked stomachers pinned with immense care to the peaked
+whalebone stays. It was quite a business to put on these dresses, and
+must have been quite a pain to walk in the high-heeled silk shoes and
+brilliant buckles with which they were always seen. They also wore
+watches, and equipages, and small lace mob caps, under which the hair
+was drawn up stiff and tight, and as smooth as if it had been gummed."
+
+"Oh, I am glad I did not live then!" said Lucy, fetching a deep breath;
+"yet it is very pleasant to hear these stories of people who lived just
+before we did; and there is no harm in liking it, is there,
+grandmamma?"
+
+"None in the least, my child," said grandmamma; "the persons who
+remember anything of those times are getting fewer and fewer every day.
+If young people, then, are wise, instead of always talking their own
+talk, as they are too apt to do, they will have a pleasure in listening
+to old persons, and in gathering up from them all they can tell of
+manners and customs, the very memories of which are now passing away.
+But now, Henry, my boy, you may understand why the Mistresses Vaughan
+always breakfasted in their own rooms; they never chose to appear but
+in their full dress, and were glad to get an hour or two every morning
+unlaced, and without their hoops.
+
+"About noon they all came swimming and sailing down into a large
+saloon, where they spent the rest of their morning. It was a vast low
+room, with bright polished oaken floors, and with only a bit of fine
+carpet in the middle of it. They each brought with them a bag for
+knotting, and they generally sat together in such state till it was
+time for their airing.
+
+"This airing was taken in a coach-and-four; and they generally went the
+same road and turned at the same place every day but Sunday throughout
+the week. They dined at two, and drank tea at five; for though they had
+some visitors who came to tea, they were too high to return these
+visits. They finished every evening by playing at quadrille; supped at
+nine, and then retired to their rooms."
+
+"What tiresome people!" said Henry; "how could they spend such lives? I
+would much rather live with John Trueman, and help to thatch, than have
+been with them."
+
+"But how did they spend their Sundays, grandmamma?" asked Emily.
+
+"They went to church in Reading," answered the old lady; "where they
+had a grand pew lined with crimson cloth. They never missed going
+twice; they came in their coach-and-four; they did not knot on Sundays,
+but I can hardly say what they did beside."
+
+Lucy fetched a deep breath again, and grandmamma went on.
+
+"It was to this house, and to be under the care of these ladies, that
+little Miss Evelyn came, the day after her father's funeral. She was
+nearly broken-hearted.
+
+"The Mistresses Vaughan were not really unkind, though very slow in
+their feelings; so, after the funeral, they soothed the child, taking
+her with them from The Grove to their own house, where she afterwards
+always remained. But they did another unfeeling thing, without seeming
+to be aware of it: Evelyn's nurse had been most kind to her, but she
+unhappily spoke broad Berkshire, and was a plain, ordinary-looking
+person; so she was dismissed, with a handsome legacy left by her
+master, and the poor little girl was placed under the care of a sort of
+upper servant called Harris. Harris was charged never to use any but
+the most genteel language in her presence, and to treat her with the
+respect due to a young lady who was already in possession of a vast
+property, though under guardians.
+
+"Three handsome rooms in one wing of the house on the first floor were
+given to the little lady and Harris; and an inferior female servant was
+provided to wait upon them in private, and a footman to attend the
+young lady in public. It was not the custom for young children then to
+dine with the family; the only meal, therefore, which Evelyn took with
+her aunts was the tea, when she saw all the company who ever visited
+them; her breakfast and dinner were served up in her own rooms.
+
+"She was required to come down at noon, and to go down and salute her
+aunts and ask their blessing; and whenever any one of them declined the
+daily airing, she was invited to take the vacant place as a great
+treat.
+
+"Her education was begun by Harris, who taught her to read, to use her
+needle, and to speak genteelly; it was afterwards carried on by masters
+from Reading, for her aunts had no sort of idea of that kind of
+education which can only be carried on by intellectual company and
+teachers. Harris was told that no expense would be spared for Miss
+Vaughan; that her dress must be of the first price and fashion; that if
+she desired toys she was to have them, and as many gift-books as St.
+Paul's Church-yard supplied.
+
+"As to her religious duties, Harris was to see that she was always very
+well dressed, and in good time to go to Church with her aunts; that she
+was taught her Catechism; and that she read a portion every day of some
+good book; one of the old ladies recommending the _Whole Duty of Man_,
+another Nelson's _Fasts and Festivals_, a third Boston's _Fourfold
+State_, whilst the fourth, merely, it is to be feared, in opposition to
+her sisters, remarked, half aside to Harris, that all the books above
+mentioned were very good, to be sure, but too hard for a child, and
+therefore that the Bible itself might, she thought, answer as well,
+till Miss Vaughan could manage hard words. As Harris herself had no
+particular relish for any of the books mentioned, she fixed upon the
+Bible as being the easiest, and moreover being divided into shorter
+sections than the other three.
+
+"So Evelyn was to have everything that a child could wish for that
+could be got with money; and though Harris minded to the letter every
+order that was given her, yet she thought only of serving herself in
+all she did. In private with the child she laid praises and flattery
+upon her as thick as honey in a full honeycomb; she never checked her
+in anything she desired, so long as she did nothing which might
+displease her aunts, should it come to their knowledge; she scarcely
+ever dressed her without praising her beauty, or gave her a lesson
+without telling her how quick and clever she was. She talked to her of
+the fine fortune she would come into when she was of age; of her
+mamma's jewels, in which she was to shine; of the fine family houses;
+and, in short, of everything which could raise her pride; and there was
+not a servant about the house who did not address the little girl as if
+she had not been made of the same flesh and blood as other people."
+
+"Poor little girl!" said Lucy.
+
+"I am sorry for her," remarked Emily; "she must have been quite spoiled
+by all these things."
+
+"We shall see," continued the old lady. "It was in a very curious way
+that I, many years afterwards, learned many particulars of the ways and
+character of this little girl in her very early years, before I was
+personally acquainted with her. After my eldest son was born, being in
+want of a nursemaid, Fanny, the very servant who had waited on Miss
+Evelyn and Mrs. Harris, offered herself; and as I had known her well
+and loved her much, though I had lost sight of her for some years, I
+most gladly engaged her. She told me many things of Mrs. Harris and her
+little lady, which I never could have known otherwise. She said that
+Mrs. Harris was so much puzzled at the ways of the little girl, that
+she used often to speak of it to Fanny.
+
+"'Miss Evelyn,' she said one day, 'is the queerest little thing I ever
+met with; I don't know where her thoughts are. When I am dressing her
+to go down to tea in the saloon, and putting on her nice smart dresses,
+and telling her to look in the glass and see how pretty she is--and to
+be sure she is as pretty as any waxwork--she either does not answer at
+all, as if she did not hear me, or has some out-of-the-way question to
+ask about her lamb, or some bird she has seen, or the clouds, or the
+moon, or some other random stuff; there is no fixing her to any sense.'
+
+"'Perhaps, Mrs. Harris,' Fanny said, 'she has heard your praises, and
+those of other people, till she is tired of them.'
+
+"'Pish!' answered Mrs. Harris; 'did you ever hear of anyone ever being
+tired of their own praises? The more they hear of them the more they
+crave them; but this child has not sense enough to listen to them. Do
+you know what it is for a person to have their wits a wool-gathering?
+Depend on it that Miss Vaughan, with all her riches and all her
+prettiness, is a very dull child; but it is not my business to say as
+much as that to the ladies; they will find it out by-and-by, that is
+sure. But it is a bad look-out for you and me, Fanny, with such chances
+as we have; for if Miss Evelyn was like other young ladies, we might be
+sure to make our fortune by her. I have known several people in my
+condition get such a hold on the hearts of children of high
+condition, like Miss Vaughan, that they never could do without them in
+no way, in their after lives. But I don't see that we get on at all
+with this stupid little thing; though for the life of me I cannot tell
+what the child's head is running upon. She never opens out to me, or
+asks a question, unless it is about some of the dumb animals, or the
+flowers in the garden, and the trees in the wood.'
+
+[Illustration: "_I cannot tell what the child's head is running
+on._"--Page 433.]
+
+"'Or the moon or the clouds,' Fanny added. 'She asked me the other day
+who lived in the moon, and whether dead people went there.'
+
+"It is very clear, from the conversation between Mrs. Harris and Fanny,
+that Evelyn passed for a dull child, and had very little to say,
+because she had not found anyone since she had left The Grove who would
+talk to her in her own way and draw out her young ideas, and encourage
+her to tell her thoughts. Her father had encouraged her to talk to him
+in her own way whilst he was spared to her; and her nurse had been the
+kindest, best of foster-mothers. Though, to be sure, she did speak
+broad Berkshire, and though she was what learned people would call an
+ignorant woman, nurse had the strongest desire to do right, for she had
+been made to feel that God was the friend of His creatures. She felt
+sure that He would help those who behaved well; and she did what she
+could to teach what she knew to her little girl. She told her that she
+must be good, and not proud, or she would never go to the happy world
+where angels are. She told her also, that though her mother was gone
+into another world, she knew and was sorry when she was naughty.
+
+"Nurse was a particularly generous woman, and was always teaching the
+little lady to give things away; and she took great pains to make her
+civil to everybody, whether high or low.
+
+"Nurse had loved to be much out of doors, and Evelyn loved it as much;
+and the two together used to ramble all about the place, into the
+fields and yards where animals were kept, and into the groves and
+gardens to watch the birds and butterflies, and to talk to the
+gardeners and the old women who weeded the walks. Nurse was always
+reminding Evelyn to take something out with her to give away; if it was
+nothing else than a roll or a few lumps of sugar from breakfast; for
+Evelyn's mother, just before her death, had said to her nurse:
+
+"'My child may be very rich, teach her to think of the wants of the
+poor, and to give away.'
+
+"But the more happy Evelyn had been with her nurse, the more sad she
+was with Harris. There was not anything which Harris talked of that the
+little girl cared for, and the consequence was that she passed for
+being very dull; because when Harris was talking of one set of things,
+she was thinking of something very different.
+
+"When Harris wanted her to admire herself in her new frocks, when she
+was dressed to go down to tea, or at any other time, she was wishing to
+have her pinafore on, or that she might run down to her lamb, which fed
+in a square yard covered with grass, where the maids dried the clothes.
+
+"Mr. Vaughan had died somewhat suddenly in the spring; the lamb was
+then only six weeks old. Evelyn came to live with her aunts immediately
+after the funeral; and the summer passed away without anything very
+particular happening.
+
+"It was Harris's plan to indulge Evelyn as much as she possibly could,
+though she did not like the child; and therefore, when she asked to go
+out, which, by her goodwill, would have been every hour of the day, she
+went with her. When she went to take anything to her lamb, and to
+stroke it, or to hang flowers about its neck, Harris stood by her. But
+if Harris did not like Evelyn, she hated her pet still more; she
+pointed out to Evelyn that there were young horns budding on its brow;
+that it was getting big and coarse, and, like other sheep, dirty; and
+said that it would soon be too big for a pretty young lady like Miss
+Vaughan to stroke and kiss.
+
+"'But I _must_ kiss it,' answered Evelyn, 'because I got poor papa once
+to kiss it; and I always kiss it in the very same place, just above its
+eyes, Harris--exactly there.'
+
+"'Just between where the horns are coming, Miss Vaughan,' said Harris;
+'some day, by-and-by, it will knock you down when you are kissing it,
+and perhaps butt you with its horns, till it kills you.'
+
+"That same day Mrs. Harris told Fanny that she would take good care
+that Miss Vaughan's disagreeable pet should be put beyond her reach
+before very long--and, indeed, one fine morning, when Evelyn went down
+to the yard, the lamb was missing. There was much crying on the part of
+the little girl, and much bitter lamentation but her footman, having
+been told what to say by Harris, said to his little lady, that the
+young ram had got tired of the drying-yard, and had gone out into the
+woods to look for fresh grass and running water, and that he was
+somewhere in the park.
+
+"'And is he happy?' asked Evelyn.
+
+"'Very happy,' answered the footman; 'so don't cry about him, Miss.'
+
+"'I will go and see if I can find him,' said the child.
+
+"'You had better not go near him now,' said Mrs. Harris; 'when pet
+lambs become large sheep they often turn most savage on those who were
+most kind to them.'
+
+"'He knew me yesterday,' replied the child, 'and let me stroke him.
+Would he forget me in one day?' and she burst into fresh tears."
+
+"I am sorry for her," said Henry, rubbing the sleeve of his pinafore
+across his eyes.
+
+"And there was one person who heard her," said grandmamma, "who was
+sorry for her also, and that was Fanny; but she did not dare to say
+anything because of Mrs. Harris."
+
+The old lady then went on:
+
+"When the summer was past, and the weather less pleasant, Mrs. Harris
+pretended to have a pain in her face, and instead of going out always
+with Evelyn, she sent Fanny.
+
+"This was a pleasant change for the little lady. She found Fanny much
+more agreeable to her. And Fanny was surprised to find how Evelyn
+opened out to her during their walks.
+
+"For several days Evelyn led Fanny about the groves and over the lawns
+of the park to look for the lamb. They could not find him, but the
+child still fancied that he was somewhere in the park.
+
+"One morning Evelyn proposed that they should try the avenue, and look
+for the lamb in that direction. Fanny had no notion of contradicting
+Evelyn--indeed Harris had told her to keep her in good humour, lest she
+should tell her aunts that Harris seldom walked with her; so that way
+they went. They had scarcely got to one end of the long row of trees
+when they saw a plain-dressed woman coming to meet them from the other.
+Evelyn uttered a joyful cry, and began to run towards her; Fanny ran,
+too, but the little girl quite outstripped her.
+
+"It was nurse who was coming; she had been forbidden the house; but she
+had often come to the lodge, and often walked a part of the way along
+the avenue, if it were only for a chance of seeing her child.
+
+"Nurse was a widow, and had only one child living. He had a good
+situation in the school on the London road, which anyone may see at the
+entrance of the town. So nurse then lived alone, in a small house on
+that road.
+
+"How joyful was the meeting between Evelyn and her nurse! how eagerly
+did the little girl rush into those arms which had been the cradle of
+her happy infancy!
+
+"After the first moments of joy were past, they sat down on a fallen
+and withered bough, between the rows of trees, and talked long and long
+together; so long, that Evelyn was almost too late to be taken to her
+aunts at noon. They talked of many things; and the good nurse forgot
+not to remind Evelyn of what she had taught her by the desire of her
+mother; especially to remember to give; to be civil to all persons; to
+speak when spoken to; to say her prayers; and not to be proud and
+haughty.
+
+"The nurse also took care to tell Evelyn, that when she talked of
+giving, she wanted nothing herself, being in her way quite rich,
+through the goodness of Mr. Vaughan.
+
+"'So don't give _me_ anything, my precious child, but your love.'
+
+"This meeting with nurse served the purpose of keeping alive all the
+simple and best feelings of Evelyn. The little one told her how her
+lamb had left her, and that they had been looking for it that very
+morning.
+
+"'Well, my dear,' said the nurse, 'the poor creature is happier in the
+fields, and with its own kind, than you can make it; and if you are not
+too young to understand me, I would advise you to learn, from this loss
+of your lamb, henceforth not to give your heart and your time to dumb
+creatures, to which you can do little good, but to your own
+fellow-creatures, that you may help. Now, to make what I say plain,
+there is, at this very time, at the lodge, a pretty orphan boy, maybe
+two years of age, who has been taken in for a week or so by Mrs.
+Simpson, at the lodge. She means to keep him till the parish can put
+him somewhere, for she cannot undertake to keep him without more pay
+than the parish will give, having a sick husband, who is a heavy burden
+upon her. Now, if you have--as I know you have--the means, why not help
+her to keep this little boy? Why not get some warm comfortable clothing
+for him, with your aunts' leave, and so help him forward till he wants
+schooling, and then provide for that?'
+
+"'I will do it, nurse; I will do it,' answered Evelyn.
+
+"'God bless you, my lamb!' said nurse.
+
+"And soon after this nurse and Evelyn parted; but they both cried
+bitterly, as Fanny told me.
+
+"The name of the baby at the lodge was Francis Barr; and, as Fanny
+said, he was a most lovely boy, with golden hair curling about his
+sweet face.
+
+"Evelyn had only to mention him to her aunts, and they immediately
+ordered their steward to pay so many shillings a week to Mrs. Simpson,
+and to give another sum for his clothing; and this was, they said, to
+be done in the name of Miss Vaughan.
+
+"They would have done better if they had let Evelyn look a little after
+the clothes, and, indeed, let her help to make them; but such was not
+their way; perhaps they thought Miss Vaughan too grand to help the poor
+with her own hands. But it is always easier for the rich to order money
+to be paid than to work with their own hands.
+
+"Mrs. Harris was told of the meeting with the nurse by Evelyn herself;
+but the little girl did not tell her all that nurse had said, not from
+cunning, but because she was not in the habit of talking to Harris. She
+could not have told why she did not; but we all know that there are
+some people whom we never feel inclined to talk to, and we hardly know
+why.
+
+"Mrs. Harris was, however, jealous of nurse, and thinking to put her
+out of her young lady's head, she used the liberty allowed her, and
+went one day to Reading, and bought a number of toys and gilt books."
+
+"I wonder what they were, grandmamma," said Henry.
+
+"Fanny did not tell me," answered the old lady, "and I had all this
+part of the story from Fanny.
+
+"Evelyn, she said, was pleased with them when they came, and put them
+all in a row on a side-table in her sitting-room, and changed their
+places several times, and opened the books and tried to read them; but
+she was hardly forward enough to make them out with pleasure. However,
+she picked a few out from the rest, and told Fanny to put them in her
+pocket; for her plan was, that Fanny was to read them to her when they
+went out, which was done.
+
+"The day after she had picked out the books, she asked for some paper
+and a pen and ink, and set herself to write, by copying printed
+letters. It was well she was in black, as she inked herself well before
+she had finished her letter.
+
+"Harris did not ask her what she was doing; that was not _her_ way; but
+she looked at what she had written when it was done, and found it was a
+letter to nurse, blotted and scrawled, and hard to be read. When this
+letter was finished, the child asked Fanny for some brown paper, and in
+this she packed most of the toys and the letter, and having sent for
+her footman, she told him to get a horse and ride to nurse's and give
+her the parcel and the letter.
+
+"The man looked at Mrs. Harris, as doubting whether he was to obey.
+Mrs. Harris was sewing, and looked like thunder.
+
+"'Miss Vaughan,' she said, 'did I hear aright? Is that parcel to be
+taken to nurse's?'
+
+"'Yes, Harris,' answered Evelyn; 'those things are mine, and I am going
+to send them to nurse.'
+
+"'Upon my word, Miss Vaughan, you have chosen a very proper present for
+the old woman; she will be vastly amused with all those pretty things.'
+
+"This speech was made in much bitterness, and meant the very contrary
+to what the words expressed; but Evelyn thought she meant what she
+said, and she answered:
+
+"'Yes, Harris, nurse will be so much pleased; I think she will put the
+things in a row on her chimney-piece.'
+
+"Harris, as Fanny told me, did not answer again immediately, but sat
+with her head stooped over her work, whilst Evelyn repeated her
+directions to Richard; and Richard looked for his orders to Mrs.
+Harris.
+
+"'Don't you hear what Miss Vaughan says, Richard?' she at length said,
+as she looked up with very red cheeks and flashing eyes; 'what do you
+stand gaping there for? Don't you know that all Miss Vaughan's orders
+are to be obeyed? Make haste and carry the parcel.'
+
+"'And tell nurse to read my letter,' said Evelyn; 'and to send me word
+if she has read it; she will be so glad, I know.'
+
+"As soon as Richard was gone, Harris called Evelyn to her, and, lifting
+her on her knee, she began to kiss and praise her, and to coax her, but
+not in the old way by telling her of her beauty and her grandeur, but
+by flattering her about her kindness and her gratitude to nurse.
+
+"'I love nurse, Harris,' answered Evelyn.
+
+"'And she deserves it too, Miss Vaughan,' replied Harris; 'she took
+care of you when you could not have told if you were ill-used. Little
+ladies should always remember those who were kind to them in their
+helpless years. Come now, tell me what nurse said to you when you saw
+her last. I am sure she would tell you nothing but what was very good.'
+
+"'She told me,' said Evelyn, 'about my mamma being an angel; and she
+told me that if I was good, and not selfish, and gave things away, that
+I should go to heaven too; I should then, she said, be like a lamb
+living under the care of a good shepherd.'
+
+"Harris, on hearing this, as Fanny said, looked about her in that sort
+of wondering way which people use when they are thoroughly surprised;
+but it being very near twelve at noon, she had no time to carry on the
+discourse further then. Evelyn's frock required to be changed, and her
+hair put in order; and then, as the custom was, Mrs. Harris had to lead
+the child into the saloon to make her curtsey, and leave her till the
+bell rang to recall her.
+
+"When Harris had left the child with her aunts, she came up again to
+her own apartments. She came with her mouth open, being all impatience
+to let out her thoughts to Fanny.
+
+"'Who would have guessed,' said she, 'that the wind blew from that
+quarter, Fanny? and here I have been beating about and about to find
+out the child, and trying to get at her in every way I could think of,
+all the while missing the right one.'
+
+"'What do you mean, Mrs. Harris?' said Fanny.
+
+"'What do I mean?' answered Harris; 'why, how stupid you are, girl!
+have I not been trying to get to the child's heart every day these six
+months, by indulging her, and petting her, and talking to her of her
+pretty face and fine expectations, and all that? and has she not all
+along seemed to care as little for what I said as she would for the
+sound of rustling leaves?'
+
+"'Will you deny that it is very true?' answered Fanny; 'I think she
+has heard of her grandeur and those things, till they are no news to
+her.'
+
+"'Maybe so,' answered Harris; 'but I never yet met with the person,
+young or old, who could be tired out with their own praises, however
+they may pretend.'
+
+"'I was never much tired in that way,' answered Fanny.
+
+"'Maybe not,' said Mrs. Harris; 'what was anyone to get by honeying one
+like you? Well, but to return to this child. I did set her down to be
+none of the sharpest; but for once I think I was mistaken. It is not
+often that I am; but I have got a little light now; I shall get on
+better from this day forward, or I am much mistaken.'
+
+"'What light is it?' said Fanny.
+
+"'Why, don't you see,' answered Harris, 'that young as Miss Evelyn is,
+that old nurse has managed to fill her head with notions about death,
+and heaven, and being charitable, and giving away; and that the child's
+head runs much, for such a child, on these things?'
+
+"'I cannot wonder at it,' answered Fanny, 'when one thinks how much the
+poor orphan has heard and seen of death.'
+
+"'And who has not heard and seen much of death, Fanny?' answered Mrs.
+Harris: 'but for all that we must live and make our way in life.'
+
+"Then, as if she thought that she might just as well refrain from
+opening herself any more to Fanny, she sent her away on some errand,
+and there the discourse ended. But not so the reflections of the young
+servant on what she had said; she had let out enough to make her quite
+understand a very great change, which took place from that day, in the
+behaviour of Harris to Evelyn.
+
+"She never spoke to her again about her beauty and riches; she never
+praised her on these accounts; but she constantly spoke of her
+goodness in giving away, of her civility and courtesy, of her being so
+humble, of the very great merit of these things, and of the certainty
+that these things would make her an angel in glory."
+
+"Oh, the cunning, wicked woman!" cried Henry.
+
+"Was not this sort of flattery more dangerous, grandmamma, than the
+other?" asked Lucy.
+
+But Emily said nothing; for Emily's besetting sin was vanity, and she
+felt that she should have been more hurt by the praises of her beauty
+than of her goodness.
+
+"By this new plan Harris gained more on Evelyn," continued grandmamma,
+"than she had done by the first, and the child, as time went on, became
+more attached to her.
+
+"Two years passed away after this affair of sending the toys to nurse,
+without many changes. Nurse was not allowed to see Evelyn again, though
+the little lady often sent her a note, and some little remembrance to
+nurse's son. Masters came from Reading to carry on Miss Vaughan's
+education; and she proved to be docile and industrious. She still kept
+up her love of being out of doors; and being of a friendly temper, she
+often visited the cottages close about, and took little presents, which
+caused the poor people to flatter her upon her goodness, as much as
+Harris did. She had no pet animal after she had lost her lamb; but she
+became very fond of Francis Barr, and often walked with Fanny to see
+him. He soon learned to know her, and to give her very sweet smiles in
+return for all her kindness; and when he could walk by himself, he
+always hastened to meet her.
+
+"He was nearly six years younger than Evelyn, and was, therefore, not
+much more than four during the summer in which she was ten.
+
+"In the early part of that summer she used to go with Fanny most days
+to the lodge, to teach little Francis his letters, and talk to him
+about God; and they used to hear him say his prayers. Evelyn loved him
+very much, and Harris praised her before every one for her goodness to
+this poor orphan.
+
+"It would have been strange if all this dangerous flattery, together
+with the pleasure the dear child had in bestowing kindnesses, which,
+after all, cost her but little, had not so worked on her mind as to
+make her vain and self-satisfied.
+
+"But her heavenly Father, who had guided her so far, was not going to
+leave her uncared for now. He who had begun the work with her was not
+going to leave it imperfect.
+
+"I am now come nearly to what I may call the end of the first part of
+my story, and to the end of the young, and sunny, and careless days of
+the life of dear Evelyn Vaughan.
+
+"These careless days, these days of young and comparatively thoughtless
+happiness, were suddenly finished in a very sad and awful way.
+
+"I will not enter into many particulars of that affair, because it will
+give you pain. In a few words it was this: Late one evening, in the
+summer, little Francis Barr was playing in the road, when a carriage,
+coming along at a full gallop, the horses having taken fright and
+thrown the postillion, came suddenly upon the poor child, knocked him
+down, and killed him on the spot. There was no time to send the news to
+the great house; and, as it happened, Evelyn and Fanny went the next
+morning, before breakfast, to give the little boy his lesson. When
+arrived at the lodge, they found the door open and no one within. Mrs.
+Simpson had just gone into the garden to fetch more flowers to lay over
+the little boy. Not seeing anyone in the kitchen, they walked into the
+parlour, and there poor Evelyn saw her little loved one cold, yet
+beautiful, in death, having one small hand closed upon a lily, and the
+other on a rose.
+
+"Evelyn could not mistake the aspect of death; she uttered a wild
+shriek, and fell senseless to the floor. She was carried home, but she
+was very ill for many days; and I may truly say never perfectly
+recovered from that time.
+
+"But now, my dear children," added grandmamma, "I begin to feel tired,
+and have only finished half my story; if all is well, we will come here
+to-morrow, and then I shall hope to finish it."
+
+"I wish it was to-morrow," said Henry: and his sisters joined in the
+wish.
+
+[Illustration: "_To hang flowers round its neck._"--Page 445.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part II.
+
+[Illustration: Miss Anne Vaughan led her niece by the hand]
+
+
+When they were all seated, the next day, in the shade of Henry's
+arbour, grandmamma began her story without more delay.
+
+"I am now," she said, "come to the time when I became acquainted with
+Evelyn Vaughan myself."
+
+"I was left early without parents, my dear children; for my father died
+when I was a baby, and my mother when I was ten years of age. I was
+sent, after her death, being of course in deep mourning, to the school
+kept in the old Abbey at Reading, and there was then a very full
+school, above sixty girls. It was a large old house, added to a gateway
+which was older still; and it was called The Abbey, because it lay
+within the grounds of the ancient monastery, the ruins of which still
+remain, the gateway itself being a part of this very ancient
+establishment."
+
+"The school was kept by certain middle-aged unmarried sisters; and we
+had many teachers, and among these a Miss Latournelle, who taught us
+English after a fashion, and presided over our clothes. I was under
+her care, and slept in her room, which was one of those in the gateway;
+and though she was always scolding me about some untidiness, she was
+very kind to me. She was young then, but always in my eyes looked old,
+having a limping gait, and a very ordinary person.
+
+"I cannot say what we were taught in that house beyond a few French
+phrases and much needlework. I was not there many years, but my
+school-days passed happily, for we were not exhausted with our
+learning, which in these days often destroys the spirit of children. We
+spent much time in the old and pleasant garden; and I had several dear
+friends, all of whom are now dead.
+
+"The first time that I saw Miss Evelyn was on the first Sunday I went
+to church with the school. We went to St. Lawrence's, which is near The
+Abbey, and we sat in the gallery, from which we had a full view of the
+pew then occupied by the Vaughans. They always came there, though not
+the nearest church, because they could not please themselves in seats
+in any other church in the town, and regularly came in their
+coach-and-four, and a grand footman went before them to open the door.
+Their pew was square and lined with crimson, and they always came
+rustling in, and making a knocking sound with their high heels on the
+pavement; they walked according to their ages, with this difference
+only, that the eldest Mistress Vaughan present always brought Evelyn in
+her hand.
+
+"We sat in the gallery just opposite to this pew, and I was in the
+first row; and as there was no teacher nor governess near us, I could
+whisper to the little girls near me about these ladies. 'Don't you
+know,' my next neighbour in the pew answered, 'that those are the
+Mistresses Vaughan, who live in the house beyond the lodges on the
+Bath road; and that little one is Miss Vaughan, and she will have the
+largest fortune of any lady in England--and see how beautifully she is
+dressed?' We could not see her face, as she stood, but we could see her
+fine clothes."
+
+"Do tell us how she was dressed, grandmamma," said Emily.
+
+"She wore a pink silk slip, with small violet flowers, or spots, and a
+laced apron, with a bonnet and tippet of violet silk. Oh, we did admire
+it! If she had not a hoop, her skirts were well stiffened with
+whalebone."
+
+"How curious!" said Lucy. "She must have looked like a little old
+woman."
+
+"The delicate fairness of her neck, and her lovely auburn curls,
+prevented that mistake, Lucy," replied grandmamma; "and then her way of
+moving, and her easy, child-like manner, showed her youth, if nothing
+else would have done so.
+
+"I had heard of Miss Evelyn before, but I had never seen her so near;
+and all the rest of that day I could think and talk of nothing but Miss
+Vaughan; and how I did long for a pink slip with violet spots.
+
+"The Sunday on which I saw Miss Vaughan for the first time at church
+was the first day of that week in which little Francis Barr was killed.
+
+"We did not see her again for many weeks. We were told of the sad
+accident, and of the severe illness of Evelyn which followed; and we
+all entered into the feelings of the little lady with much warmth.
+
+"It was late in the autumn when she appeared again at church; but,
+though we did not see her face, we could observe that she sat very
+still, and seemed once, whilst the psalm was being sung, to be crying,
+for she stooped her head, and had her handkerchief to her eyes. We were
+very sorry again for her, but our French teacher, when we came home,
+said, 'Let her weep; she will console herself presently.'
+
+"It was, maybe, ten days after we had seen Miss Evelyn the second time
+at church, as some of us were sitting, on the eve of a half-holiday, on
+a locker in a window of the old gateway, that we saw the
+coach-and-four, with the Vaughan liveries, wheeling along the green
+open space before The Abbey gate; half a dozen of us at least were
+standing the next minute on the locker to see this wonder better.
+
+"Nearer and nearer came the carriage, with the horses' heads as if they
+were a-going through the arch; and when we were expecting to hear the
+rolling of the wheels beneath our feet, the carriage suddenly stopped
+right in front of the garden-gate.
+
+"Next came loud knockings and ringings without, and the running of many
+feet within the house, one calling to another, to tell that the
+Mistresses Vaughan were come, and had asked to see our governess.
+
+"We strained our necks to see, if we could, the ladies get out, but we
+were too directly above them to get a good view; and if we could, we
+were not allowed, for our French teacher came up, and made us all get
+down from the locker, shutting the window which we had opened, and
+saying a great deal about 'politesse' and the great vulgarity of
+peeping.
+
+"The house was as still as the mice in the old wainscot when they smelt
+Miss Latournelle's cat, whilst the ladies were in the parlour, for our
+teachers insisted on our being quiet; but as soon as we saw the coach
+bowling away, we all began to chatter, and to speak our thoughts
+concerning the occasion of this visit, which was considered a very
+great honour by our governesses."
+
+"Did the Mistresses Vaughan come to speak about putting Evelyn to your
+school, grandmamma?" asked Emily.
+
+"Not exactly so, my dear," replied the old lady; "I will tell you what
+they came for. Poor Evelyn had never recovered her quiet, happy spirits
+since the fright and the shock of her little favourite's death. Her
+mother had had a very delicate constitution, and had died early of
+consumption. Perhaps Evelyn had inherited the tendency to consumption
+from her mother, though neither her aunts nor Mrs. Harris had thought
+her otherwise than a strong child till after her long illness.
+
+"After she recovered from this illness, however--or rather seemed to be
+recovered--her spirits were quite gone; and she was always crying,
+often talking of death and dying, and brooding over sad things. When
+the family physician who attended her was told how it was, he advised
+that she should go to school, and mix with other children, and he
+recommended The Abbey.
+
+"The Mistresses Vaughan thought his advice good, so far as that Evelyn
+might be the better for the company of other children. But they said
+that no Miss Vaughan had ever been brought up at a school, for there
+were sure to be some girls of low birth, and that they could not think
+of their niece being herded with low people.
+
+"After a long discussion, however, the old ladies yielded so far to the
+opinion of the physician, that they determined to ask our governess to
+permit Miss Vaughan to come to them every dancing day, and to join in
+the dancing with the other girls.
+
+"It was to ask this favour that the four old ladies came to the Abbey;
+and it was then settled that Miss Vaughan was to come on every Friday
+evening to dance with us, and to take her tea in the parlour with the
+mistress.
+
+"This high honour was made known through the house immediately after
+the ladies were gone. Miss Evelyn was to be brought the first time by
+her aunts, and afterwards by Mrs. Harris; and she was to come the very
+next Friday.
+
+"From that day, which was Wednesday, until the Friday afternoon, what a
+bustle were all in; what trimming, and plaiting, and renewing, and
+making anew, went forward! I was in deep mourning; and as Miss
+Latournelle kept my best bombazine, and crapes, and my round black cap,
+in her own press, I had nothing to think of; but our governess insisted
+that all the other young ladies should have new caps on the occasion;
+and as these were to be made in the house, there was enough to do.
+
+"I could smile to think of the caps we wore at that time; our common
+caps fitted the head exactly, and were precisely in the shape of bowls.
+They were commonly made of what is called Norwich quilt, such as we now
+see many bed-quilts made of, with a little narrow plaiting round the
+edge. My common black caps were made of silk quilted in the same way.
+Our best caps were of the same form: the foundation being of coloured
+silk or satin, with gauze puffed over it, and in each puff either a
+flower or a bit of ribbon, finished off to the fancy, with a plaited
+border of gauze, and larger bunches of flowers peaked over each ear."
+
+"Oh, grandmamma!" cried Emily, "how strange! Did not the children look
+very odd then?"
+
+"The eye was used to the fashion," said the old lady; "there is no
+fashion, however monstrous, to which the eye does not become used in a
+little while.
+
+"By the time that all the caps were made, and all the artificial roses,
+and lilacs, and pansies duly disposed, it was time to dress. You have
+never been at school, or you would know what a bustle there is to get
+all the little misses ready on a dancing day.
+
+[Illustration: "_What a bustle there is to get ready on a dancing
+day._"--Page 453.]
+
+"It was time to light the candles long before Miss Latournelle
+mustered us and led us down into the dancing-room. This was a long, low
+room, having a parlour at one end of it, and at the other a kind of
+hall, from which sprang a wide staircase, leading to the rooms over the
+gateway; the balustrades of the staircase still showed some remains of
+gilding.
+
+"We were ranged on forms raised one above another, at the lowest end of
+the room, and our master was strutting about the floor, now and then
+giving us a flourish on his kit, when our youngest governess put her
+head in at the door, and said:
+
+"'Ladies, are you all ready? You must rise and curtsey low when the
+company appears, and then sink quietly into your places.'
+
+"She then retreated; and a minute afterwards the door from the parlour
+was opened, and our eldest governess appeared ushering in the four
+Mistresses Vaughan, followed by other visitors invited for this grand
+occasion. There was awful knocking of heels and rustling of long silk
+trains; and every person looked solemn and very upright.
+
+"Miss Anne Vaughan, who came in first, led her niece in her hand, and
+went sweeping round with her to the principal chair, for there was a
+circle of chairs set for the company. When she had placed the little
+lady at her right hand, and when the rest of the company were seated,
+we on the forms had full leisure to look at this much envied object.
+There was not one amongst us who would not have gladly changed places
+with the little lady.
+
+"Evelyn Vaughan was an uncommonly beautiful girl; she was then nearly
+eleven years of age, and was taller than most children of her age, for
+she had shot up rapidly during her illness. Her complexion was too
+beautiful, too white, and too transparent; but she wanted not a soft
+pink bloom in her cheeks, and her lips were of a deep coral. She had
+an oval face and lovely features; her eyes were bright, though
+particularly soft and mild; her hair of rich auburn, hanging in bright,
+natural ringlets; whilst even her stiff dress and formal cap could not
+spoil the grace and ease of her air.
+
+"Indeed, persons always accustomed to be highly dressed are not so put
+out of their way by it as those who are only thus dressed on high
+occasions; and dressed she was in a rich silk, with much lace, with a
+chain of gold and stud of jewels, silken shoes, and artificial flowers.
+We on the forms thought that we had never seen anything so grand in our
+whole lives, nor any person so pretty, nor any creature so to be
+envied.
+
+"The ladies only stayed to see a few of our best dancers show forth in
+minuets before tea, and then they withdrew: and as the dancing-master,
+who had always taught Miss Vaughan, was invited to join the tea-party,
+we went into the schoolroom to our suppers, and to talk over what we
+had seen. After a little while, we all returned to the dancing-room to
+be ready for the company, who soon appeared again.
+
+"We were then called up, and arranged to dance cotillons, and whilst we
+were standing waiting for the order to take our places, we saw our
+master go bowing up to Evelyn, to ask her to join our party. I saw her
+smile then for the first time, and I never had seen a sweeter smile; it
+seemed to light up her whole face. She consented to dance, and being
+asked if she would like any particular partner, she instantly answered:
+
+"'That young lady in black, sir, if you please.'
+
+"There was but one in black, and that was myself. The next moment I was
+called, and told that Miss Vaughan had done me the honour to choose me
+for a partner; and it was whispered in my ear by my governess, when
+she led me up, that I must not forget my manners, and by no means take
+any liberty with Miss Vaughan. This admonition served only to make me
+more awkward than I might have been if it had not been given to me.
+
+"Evelyn had chosen me because she had heard it said in the parlour that
+the little girl in black was in mourning for the last of her parents.
+And I had not begun the second cotillon with her before she told me
+that she had chosen me for a partner because, like herself, I had no
+father or mother.
+
+"After this I was shy no longer; I talked to her about my mother, and
+burst into tears when so doing, for my sorrows were fresh.
+
+"Evelyn soon made herself acquainted with my name--Mary Reynolds--and
+we found out that we had been born the same year; and she said that it
+was very odd that she should have chosen a partner who was of her own
+age.
+
+"I remember no more of that evening; but the next Friday Miss Vaughan
+came again, accompanied by Mrs. Harris.
+
+"Harris played the great lady quite as well as the Mistresses Vaughan
+had done, acting in their natural characters; as she always, at home,
+took her meals with her young lady when in their own rooms, she was
+invited to tea in the parlour; and to please Evelyn, I was also asked,
+for I had been again chosen as her partner.
+
+"Our friendship was growing quickly; it was impossible to love Miss
+Vaughan a little, if one loved her at all. She was the sweetest,
+humblest child I had ever known; and she talked of things which,
+although I did not understand them, greatly excited my interest.
+
+"It was in October that Evelyn first came to dance at the Abbey, and
+she came every Friday till the holidays. We thought she looked very
+unwell the last time she came; and she said she was sorry that some
+weeks would pass before she saw me again; she repeated the same to Mrs.
+Harris.
+
+"All the other children went home for Christmas, but I had no home to
+go to; and I saw them depart with much sorrow, and was crying to find
+myself alone, having watched the last of my school-fellows going out
+with her mother through the garden-gate, when Miss Latournelle came up
+all in a hurry.
+
+"'Miss Reynolds,' she said, 'what do you think? You were born, surely,
+with a silver spoon in your mouth. But there is a letter come, and you
+are to go from church on Christmas Day in the coach to spend the
+holidays with Miss Vaughan. It is all settled; and you are to have a
+new slip, and crape tucker and apron, and a best black cap. Come, come,
+we must look up your things, and we have only two days for it; come
+away, fetch your thimble; and don't let me see any idleness.'
+
+"The kind teacher was as pleased for me as I was for myself; though she
+drove me about the next two days, as if I had been her slave.
+
+"When I found myself in the coach, on Christmas Day, all alone, and
+driving away with four horses to the great house at the end of the
+avenue, I really did not know what to make of myself. I tried all the
+four corners of the coach, looked out at every window, nodded to one or
+two schoolfellows I saw walking in the streets, and made myself as
+silly as the daw in borrowed feathers."
+
+The children laughed, and the old lady went on:
+
+"When I got to the lodge and the avenue, however, I became more
+thoughtful and steady. Even in that short drive, the idea of riding in
+a coach-and-four was losing some of its freshness, and deeper thoughts
+had come. I was a little put out, too, at the sight of the fine
+man-servant who opened the doors for me and led me upstairs. The
+moment I entered Miss Evelyn's sitting-room, she ran up to me, and put
+her arms around my neck, kissing me several times.
+
+"'Dear, dear Mary,' she said, 'how very glad I am to see you! I shall
+be so happy! I have got a cough; I am not to go out till warm weather
+comes; and it is so sad to be shut up and see nothing but the trees
+waving, and hear nothing but the wind whistling and humming. But now
+you are come I shall be so happy!'
+
+"'I hope you will, Miss Vaughan,' said Mrs. Harris; 'and that your head
+will not always be running, as it has been lately, upon all manner of
+dismal things. Miss Reynolds, you must do your best to amuse Miss
+Evelyn; you must tell her all the news of the school, and the little
+misses; I dare say you can tell her many pretty stories.'
+
+"Evelyn did not answer Harris, though she gave her a look with more
+scorn in it than I had ever seen her give before.
+
+"Miss Vaughan had shown symptoms of great weakness in the chest--that
+is, Henry, in the part where people breathe. She had been directed by
+the physician to be kept, for some weeks to come, in her own rooms; and
+when this order was given, she had begged to have me with her.
+
+"I believe that I was a comfort to her, and a relief to Harris; and
+Fanny, also, rejoiced to see me. I was with Evelyn several weeks, and
+the days passed pleasantly. I had every indulgence, and the use of all
+sorts of toys; dolls I had partly put aside; but there were books, and
+pictures, and puzzles; and when I went back to school I was loaded with
+them; not only for myself, but for my schoolfellows.
+
+"Evelyn seemed to be pleased to see me delighted with them, but she had
+no pleasure in them herself, any more than I have now; and once, when
+Harris said: 'Come, Miss Vaughan, why can't you play with these things
+as Miss Reynolds does?' she answered: 'Ah, Harris! what have I to do
+with these? I know what is coming.'
+
+"'What is it?' I inquired.
+
+"'Don't ask her, Miss Reynolds,' said Harris hastily; 'Miss Vaughan
+knows that she should not talk of these things.'
+
+"'Oh, let me talk of them, and then I shall be more easy!' Evelyn
+answered. 'It is because I must not that I am so unhappy. Why have you
+put away my Bible and the other good books?'
+
+"'Because your aunts and the doctors say you read them till you have
+made yourself quite melancholy, Miss Vaughan; and so they have been
+taken away, but not by me. I have not got them. You must not blame me
+for what others have done; you know my foolish fondness, and that I can
+deny you nothing in my power to grant.'
+
+"We had two or three conversations of this kind; but Harris watched us
+so closely, that Miss Vaughan never had an opportunity of talking to me
+by ourselves; so that we never renewed, during those holidays, the
+subjects we had sometimes talked of at the Abbey.
+
+"I stayed at that time about six weeks with Miss Vaughan; and as she
+appeared to be much better and more cheerful, I was sent back to
+school, with a promise from my governesses that, if Miss Vaughan
+desired it, I was to go to her again at the shortest notice.
+
+"The spring that year was early, and some of the days in March were so
+fine, that the Mistresses Vaughan presumed to take their niece out in
+the coach without medical advice. Deeply and long did the old ladies
+lament their imprudence; but probably this affliction was the first
+which ever really caused them to feel.
+
+"About six days after the last of these airings, the coach came to the
+school, bringing a request that I should be sent back in it instantly.
+
+"Miss Vaughan had been seized with a violent inflammation in the chest,
+attended with dreadful spasms. She had called for poor dear Mary, as if
+Mary could help her; and I was told that she was in a dying state. I
+sobbed and cried the whole way, for where were the delights then to me
+of a coach-and-four? I was taken immediately up to her bedroom, for she
+had called again for poor dear Mary. But, oh, how shocked was I when I
+approached the bed! Fanny was sitting at the pillow, holding her up in
+her arms: she was as pale as death itself; her eyes were closed, her
+fair hands lay extended on the counterpane, her auburn ringlets hanging
+in disorder. She was enjoying a short slumber after the fatigue of
+acute pain, for she then breathed easily. Near the bed stood Harris,
+with the look of a person at once distressed and offended. Miss Vaughan
+had preferred, in her anguish, to be held by Fanny rather than by her.
+She had often suspected Evelyn of not liking her, and the truth had
+come out that morning during her sufferings.
+
+"In the next room I could see the figures of the four Mistresses
+Vaughan, all in their morning dresses. The physician was with them; and
+when he saw me he arose, and came and stood by the bed.
+
+"I know not how long it was before Evelyn opened her eyes.
+
+"'Thank God,' she said, in a low, weak voice, 'it is gone for this
+time;' then added, as she saw me, 'Mary, Mary dear, don't go again.
+Fanny, is it you? but you will be tired. Might not nurse come, poor
+dear nurse?'
+
+The physician asked Harris what the young lady said. Harris pretended
+not to have heard. Fanny looked to me to speak, and I said:
+
+"'She wants her nurse, sir, her own nurse.'
+
+"'And where does this nurse live?' he inquired.
+
+"I told him, on the London road; I told him also her name. I spoke out
+boldly, though I felt the eyes of Harris upon me.
+
+"'I know the woman,' the doctor answered: 'she is a worthy person; she
+_must_ be sent for.'
+
+"When Harris heard this she left the bedside and went to the ladies, to
+prevent, if possible, this sending for nurse. The reason she gave for
+its not being right to have the poor woman brought there was, that she
+was the first to put melancholy thoughts in the head of Miss Evelyn,
+and would be quite sure to bring the same things forward again. Mrs.
+Harris would have got her own way, if the physician had not insisted
+that Evelyn ought to see her nurse if she desired it; and he himself
+undertook to send for her. He had not far to send. Nurse had heard of
+her child's violent attack, and was no further off than the lodge.
+
+"From the time that Evelyn had mentioned her nurse, she had lain quite
+still, with her eyes closed, till the worthy woman came in. At the
+sound of the soft step with which the nurse came forward, she opened
+them and saw the person she loved best on earth. A sweet bright glow
+arose in her cheeks, and she extended both her arms as if she would
+have risen to meet her.
+
+"Though poor nurse, at the first glance, had seen death in the sweet
+features of her child, yet she commanded herself.
+
+"'I am come, my love,' she said; 'and rejoice to find you easy.'
+
+"'Yes, it is gone--the pain is gone,' replied Evelyn: 'when it comes
+again I shall die. I know it, nurse; but come, and never go away. Take
+poor Fanny's place, and lay my head there--there,' she added.
+
+"'On my bosom,' said the nurse, 'where you used so often to sleep;' and
+she placed herself on the bed and raised her child so that she rested
+on her arm.
+
+"At this moment Harris, whose eyes were flashing with every evil
+passion, brought a vial containing a draught which had been ordered.
+
+"Evelyn took it without a word, and then, laying her sweet head on
+nurse's bosom, fell into a long deep sleep--long, for it lasted some
+hours, and during that time only nurse and I were with her; nurse
+holding her in her arms, and I seated at the foot of the bed.
+
+"I had many thoughts during these hours of stillness--thoughts more
+deep than I had ever had before, on the vanity of earthly things and
+the nature of death.
+
+"The sun was descending behind the groves when Evelyn stirred, and
+began to speak. I arose to my feet; she still lay with one side of her
+face upon the nurse's bosom--that side, when she stirred her head a
+little, was warm and flushed; the other cheek was pale and wan.
+
+"'Nurse, nurse,' were the words she uttered.
+
+"'I am here, my child,' was the good woman's answer.
+
+"'You will not go,' said Evelyn; 'and Mary must not go, and Fanny must
+not go.'
+
+"The nurse raised her a little, still supporting her, whilst she asked
+me to ring the bell, and gave notice that Miss Evelyn was awake and was
+to have some nourishment which had been ordered.
+
+"Harris came in with something on a salver, Evelyn received it in
+silence, but did not forget to thank Harris, though even whilst taking
+it she whispered, 'Don't go, nurse.' Mrs. Harris heard the whisper, as
+I could see by the manner in which she went out of the room.
+
+"I was called away just then, to take some refreshment, and for this
+purpose I was taken to the room of Mistress Catherine. She was there,
+and had been crying bitterly; she spoke kindly to me, and said she
+hoped that the sight of me would be a comfort to Miss Vaughan; but she
+seemed to be unable to talk much.
+
+"When I returned to Evelyn's room, I found that she had fallen again
+into a doze, and it was thought best for me to go to bed. I slept, by
+my own desire, with Fanny; but Fanny left me about midnight, to take
+her turn in attending the little lady.
+
+"She died at last somewhat suddenly, and very peacefully, like one
+falling asleep. The last word which she was heard to utter distinctly
+was the name of her Saviour.
+
+"I was present when she died, and went with her aunts to the funeral,
+where I cried till I was quite ill.
+
+"A few days before her death, she had asked to be left with her Aunt
+Catherine, and got her to write down several things which she wished to
+be done after her death. It was found, when the paper written by
+Mistress Catherine was read, that she had remembered everyone, and
+desired that Harris, and Fanny, and nurse's son, should all have
+something very handsome. All her toys and gayest dresses, and many
+ornaments and books, were to be given to me: and the poor whom she had
+loved and visited were all remembered.
+
+"That death was the cutting up of all the worldly prospects of the old
+ladies, for Evelyn was the last of that branch of the family. At the
+death of the youngest Mistress Vaughan, who lived to a very great age,
+the estates went into other hands, and The Grove was sold, and
+purchased by a gentleman whose son parted with it to your uncle. The
+very name of Vaughan is now nearly forgotten in that part of the world,
+excepting it may be by a few very old persons like myself."
+
+
+
+
+Farewell to the Old Home
+
+[Illustration: Henry reminded her of the robin]
+
+
+Michaelmas was the time fixed for their all moving to The Grove, and
+leaving that sweet place which was the only one the children had
+learned to love. Mrs. Fairchild had let August pass without saying much
+to her children about the moving, though she and Mr. Fairchild had been
+busy with many settlements.
+
+Mr. Fairchild had been at The Grove again, and come back again. He had
+settled that John was to have a part of the large garden under his
+care, and that no one was to meddle with him; and that he was to take
+charge of the old horse and carriage, and to go out with the children
+when they went abroad in it. Henry was to have leave to go to John,
+when he wished to work in the garden.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild fixed on Betty to wait upon the children; she knew that
+they must have a maid, and she soon settled who that maid should be.
+
+"I know Betty," she said; "and I know I may trust her with my
+children."
+
+Miss Tilney was very angry when she heard of this.
+
+"Well, to be sure," she said, "so Betty is turned into a young lady's
+governess; who could have thought it? How very ridiculous some people
+are!"
+
+When September came, Mrs. Fairchild reminded her children how near the
+time was come, and that they must think of preparing to move. When Lucy
+and Emily heard this, which they did one morning at breakfast, they
+could not help shedding a few tears.
+
+Their mother sent them out into the fresh air, saying she would have no
+lessons that morning, but giving no particular reason. The little girls
+were glad to be left to themselves, and they put on their bonnets and
+walked out, taking their way to the hut in the wood.
+
+It may be supposed what they talked of; they talked of the change that
+was coming, and the time which was gone. They made each other cry more
+by trying to remember things which had happened in every place they
+passed through. They went as far back as the time when Mr. Fairchild
+used to carry Henry in his arms when they went out, and only now and
+then set him down to walk. They had a story belonging to almost every
+tree, to the brook and the bridge, to each little path, and many for
+the hut at the end of their walk.
+
+In this hut they sat down and began to ask each other what neither
+could answer, whether it was likely they should ever come back to that
+dear place.
+
+"It is papa's, we know," said Lucy; "but then he will let the house,
+and we don't know who will have it; people always let houses which they
+don't live in. He said, one day, that he should let it. But," said
+Lucy, with a deep sigh, "I do not think we ought to cry so much; if
+grandmamma sees our eyes red, and asks the reason, we shall be obliged
+to tell her, and then she will think we do not like going with her."
+
+"Henry does not mind going," said Emily; "he likes it now John is to
+go."
+
+They were talking in this way, and had not yet succeeded in quite
+stopping themselves from crying, when they thought they heard a voice
+from the wood on the other side of the brook. They listened again, and
+plainly heard these words: "Lucy! Emily! where are you?"
+
+They came out to the mouth of the hut, and listened, but could not hear
+the voice again. Then there came the sound of steps, and they were
+frightened and ran back into the hut. The steps were heard more plainly
+as they pattered over the bridge, and, not a minute afterwards, who
+should appear before the hut but Bessy Goodriche! She was quite out of
+breath and all in a glow with running; her hair all in disorder, and
+her bonnet at the very back of her head. She could not speak for a
+moment, but her face was bright with joy. Lucy and Emily ran to her and
+kissed her, and said how she had frightened them.
+
+"Poor little things!" she answered: "you would not do to be lost in a
+wood on a dark night. But I am come to tell you it is all settled,
+though, to be sure, you know it already; I am so glad and my aunt is so
+glad. No more chimneys to come down and clatter over our heads;--and
+then, you know, you can come whenever you like, the oftener the more
+welcome, and stay as long as you like, the longer the better. Aunt will
+have such pleasure in taking care of your poor old women--the
+pin-cushion and the housewife woman, I mean. But I am much afraid that
+I shall not make up your loss, good little things as you are, I shall
+never manage it; but I must try. I hope I have got the goodwill, though
+I have nothing else."
+
+In this place Bessy stopped for actual want of breath.
+
+"What is it?" said Lucy; "what do you mean, dear Bessy?"
+
+"What is it? don't you know? How strange--no, it is not, neither; Mr.
+Fairchild said he should not tell you till it was settled; and so there
+can be no harm in telling it. And are you not delighted?--you don't
+look delighted. Your papa said that there could be nothing which would
+please you so much."
+
+"But what is it?" asked the little girls; "how can we be delighted,
+when we do not know what it is?"
+
+"Have not I told you?" asked Bessy; "I thought I told you at first.
+Why, we are to live in this place, and take care of it, and see that
+everything is kept in order; every tree, and every bench, and
+everything you love. How you stare!" added Bessy; "how round your eyes
+are! I don't mean this hut; did you think I meant that my aunt and I
+were to live in it, and take care of the benches?"
+
+"The house, the house?" answered Lucy, with a cry of joy; "are you and
+Mrs. Goodriche to have the house and the garden; and to take care of
+the poor people, and the school, and the hut, and the arbour, and the
+benches, and our little room, and the parlour, and the roses? Oh,
+Bessy, Bessy, dear Bessy, now am I glad indeed! and we will come to you
+here, and you shall come to us there. Oh, Emily, Emily, I am so happy!"
+
+The gentle eyes of Emily sparkled as brightly as Lucy's did, when she
+heard this news, though she said little; but she whispered to her
+sister, the next minute: "Now, Lucy, we should not have cried so much,
+it was not right."
+
+Lucy answered aloud: "No, Emily, we should not; but I hope that we
+shall cry no more. If the whole world had been picked, we could not
+have found any people we like so well to live here as Mrs. Goodriche
+and Bessy."
+
+"Aunt is at the house, she is come to spend the day here; and Mr.
+Fairchild sent me here to look for you; and we shall come in when you
+go out; and things are to be left as they are now, only a few to be
+moved. Aunt will sell her rubbish furniture, and we are to be so tidy,
+and I am to have your little room and bed."
+
+"And you will feed our poor robin," said Emily; "he has come every
+winter for a great many years, and he knows that window; but you must
+shut it after you have put out the crumbs, for fear of the cat. He
+knows us, and he will soon know you."
+
+As the three girls walked back to the house, they were quite busy in
+telling and hearing what things were to be attended to. Lucy and Emily
+felt like people who have had a tight cord bound over their hearts, and
+that cord had been suddenly cut, and they were loose.
+
+The three weeks which followed that day were a time of great bustle. On
+one evening all the children of the school came and had tea in the
+field behind the barn; and Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy came, that they
+might get acquainted with them.
+
+Another day all the old people whom the children loved were invited to
+dinner; and Mrs. Goodriche came also to make their acquaintance. No one
+went away without some useful gift; but these meetings and partings
+were sad, and made some wish they were in that blessed state in which
+there shall be no more sorrow, nor any more tears.
+
+Mary Bush, and nurse, and Margery, however, said that if Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild must go, they could not have chosen anyone they should have
+liked so well as Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+All this bustle caused the few last days in the home of their childhood
+to pass more easily with the little girls; but when they rose for the
+last time, from that bed in which they had slept so long as they could
+remember, they both felt a sadness which they could not overcome.
+
+The breakfast was to be at an early hour, but, early as it was, Mrs.
+Goodriche and Bessy had come before it was ready. They were to return
+again to their old house for a day or two, but they wished to see the
+last of their dear friends before their departure. Mr. Somers also came
+in immediately after breakfast.
+
+The coach from The Grove also arrived at the same time with Mr. Somers,
+for the horses and coachman had rested during the night in the village.
+Old Mrs. Fairchild always liked to be driven by the man she knew, and
+drawn by the horses she had often proved; and they were to travel
+slowly, and be three days on the road. Henry came flying in when the
+coach arrived; and Lucy and Emily ran up once more to their little room
+to cry again. Bessy followed them to comfort them, though she herself
+was very sad.
+
+John Trueman, who was at the house with his wife to take care of it
+till Mrs. Goodriche took possession, now brought out the old horse and
+carriage, in which John and Betty were to travel; and there was a great
+deal of packing and settling before anybody got in, for there were nine
+persons to go. The two Mrs. Fairchilds, and the two little girls, went
+inside the coach; Mr. Fairchild sat with Henry in an open seat in the
+back; and Mrs. Johnson was to go with Betty, John, and the magpie, in
+the old carriage. It was large and of the old fashion. When the old
+lady had taken her place, Lucy and Emily were called: they kissed Bessy
+again, and Henry reminded her of the robin. Then they ran down and
+kissed Mrs. Goodriche, and without looking round at any dear tree or
+window, or garden-seat or plot of flowers, they sprang into the coach,
+and felt for the first time that riding in their father's carriage was
+no cure for an aching heart. Their hearts ached, and their eyes
+continued to flow with tears, till they had passed the village and left
+it at some distance behind them; but as they were dragged slowly up
+the steep hill, beyond the village, they took courage and looked out,
+and could just see a number of persons standing beneath the beech-trees
+on the top of the round hill. Someone was waving something white, and
+Henry was answering it by waving his handkerchief. Tears soon blinded
+the eyes of the little girls, and they drew back again into the coach,
+and did not look out again till they had got beyond the places which
+they had been well acquainted with in the young happy days which were
+now shut up in the past.
+
+When we leave a place which we have long lived in and much loved, how
+very soon do all the things which have passed begin to seem like dreams
+and visions; and how will this life, with all its pains and pleasures,
+troubles and distresses, seem to us when death is swallowed up in
+victory, and we shall be with the Saviour where sorrow never more can
+come?
+
+[Illustration: "_Someone was waving something white._"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Wells Gardner, Darton and Co., 3, Paternoster Buildings, London_
+
+[Illustration: The Fairchild Family]
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+
+Inconsistent hyphenation of words such as band-box, play-ground,
+school-room, maid-servant, farm-house, bed-time, play-room, post-boy,
+school-fellow, corn-field, store-room, tea-cup, and work-bag has been
+retained. For the text version's cover and title pages, I have added
+periods to initials and to "Mrs." Minor typographical corrections are
+documented in the source of the associated HTML version.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Fairchild Family, by Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY ***
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fairchild Family, by Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Fairchild Family
+
+Author: Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+Editor: Mary E. Palgrave
+
+Illustrator: Florence M. Rudland
+
+Release Date: August 19, 2009 [EBook #29725]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Linda Hamilton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<p class="figpage"><a name="cover"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg"
+alt="Book Cover: THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY BY MRS. SHERWOOD" width="482" height="700" border="1"></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;">
+<a name="frontispiece"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/frontispiece.png" border="0"
+ width="466" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children, Lucy, Emily
+and Henry.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#frontispiece_text">Page 1</a>.</p></div>
+
+<!-- Page i -->
+<hr style="width: 65%;">
+<p class="figpage"><a name="image_i"></a><img src="images/i.png"
+alt="THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY BY Mrs SHERWOOD - EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION BY
+MARY E PALGRAVE - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FLORENCE M RUDLAND - NEW YORK
+FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS" width="457" height="700" border="1"></p>
+
+
+<!-- Page ii -->
+<!-- Page iii -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg">
+
+<h2><a name="Introduction" id="Introduction"></a>Introduction</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> History of Lucy, Emily, and Henry Fairchild was begun in 1818,
+nearly a century ago. The two little misses and their brother played
+and did lessons, were naughty and good, happy and sorrowful, when
+George III. was still on the throne; when gentlemen wore blue coats
+with brass buttons, knee-breeches, and woollen stockings; and ladies
+were attired in short waists, low necks, and long ringlets. The Battle
+of Waterloo was quite a recent event; and the terror of "Boney" was
+still used by nursery maids to frighten their charges into good
+behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps some of those who take up this book and glance at its
+title-page are saying to themselves. We have plenty of stories about
+the children of to-day&mdash;the children of the twentieth century, not of
+the early nineteenth. How should it interest us to read of these little
+ones of the time of our great-grandparents, whose lives were so dull
+and ideas so old-fashioned; who never played cricket or tennis, or went
+to London or to the seaside, or rode bicycles, or did any of the things
+we do?</p>
+
+<p>To anyone who is debating whether or no he will read the <i>Fairchild
+Family</i>, I would say, Try a chapter or two before you make up your
+mind. It is not what people <i>do</i>, but what they <i>are</i> that makes them
+interesting. True enough, Lucy, Emily and Henry led what we should call
+nowadays very dull lives; but they were by no means dull little people
+for all that. We shall find them very living and real when we make<!-- Page iv -->
+acquaintance with them. They tore their clothes, and lost their pets,
+and wanted the best things, and slapped each other when they disagreed.
+They had their good times and their bad times, their fun and frolic and
+their scrapes and naughtiness, just as children had long before they
+were born and are having now, long, long after they are dead.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, as we get to know them&mdash;and, I hope, to love them&mdash;we shall
+realize, perhaps with wonder, how very like they are to the children of
+to-day. If they took us by the hand and led us to their playroom, or
+into "Henry's arbour" under the great trees, we should make friends
+with them in five minutes, even though they wear long straight skirts
+down to their ankles and straw bonnets burying their little faces, and
+Henry is attired in a frock and pinafore, albeit he is eight years old.
+We should have glorious games with them, following the fleet Lucy
+running like a hare; we should kiss them when we went away, and reckon
+them ever after among our friends.</p>
+
+<p>And so, as we follow the <i>History of the Fairchild Family</i> we shall
+understand, better than we have yet done, how children are children
+everywhere, and very much the same from generation to generation.
+Knowing Lucy and Emily and Henry will help us to feel more sympathy
+with other children of bygone days, the children of our history
+books&mdash;with pretty Princess Amelia, and the little Dauphin in the
+Bastille, with sweet Elizabeth Stuart, the "rose-bud born in snow" of
+Carisbrook Castle, and a host of others. They were <i>real</i> children too,
+who had real treats and real punishments, real happy days and sad ones.
+They felt and thought and liked and disliked much the same things as we
+do now. We stretch out our hands to them across the misty centuries,
+and hail them our companions and playmates.</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>Few people nowadays, even among those who know the <i>Fairchild Family</i>,
+know anything of its writer, Mrs. Sherwood. Yet her life, as told by
+herself, is as amusing as a story, and as full of incidents as a life
+could well be. When she was a very old woman she wrote her
+autobiography, helped by her<!-- Page v --> daughter; and from this book, which has
+been long out of print, I will put together a short sketch which will
+give you some idea of what an interesting and attractive person she
+was.</p>
+
+<p>The father of Mrs. Sherwood&mdash;or, to give her her maiden name, Mary
+Butt&mdash;was a clergyman. He had a beautiful country living called
+Stanford, in Worcestershire, not far from Malvern, where Mary was born
+on May 6, 1775. She had one brother, a year older than herself, and a
+sister several years younger, whose name was Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Butt's childhood, in her beautiful country home, was very happy.
+She was extremely tall for her age, strong and vigorous, with glowing
+cheeks and dark eyes and "very long hair of a bright auburn," which she
+tells us her mother had great pleasure in arranging. She and her
+brother Marten were both beautiful children; but no one thought Mary at
+all clever, or fancied what a mark she would make in the world by her
+writings.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was a dreamy, thoughtful child, full of fancies and imaginings.
+She loved to sit on the stairs, listening to her mother's voice singing
+sweetly in her dressing-room to her guitar. She had wonderful fancies
+about an echo which the children discovered in the hilly grounds round
+the rectory. Echo she believed to be a beautiful winged boy; "and I
+longed to see him, though I knew it was in vain to attempt to pursue
+him to his haunts; neither was Echo the only unseen being who filled my
+imagination." Her mother used to tell her and Marten stories in the
+dusk of winter evenings; one of those stories she tells again for other
+children in the <i>Fairchild Family</i>. It is the tale of the old lady who
+was so fond of inviting children to spend a day with her.</p>
+
+<p>The first grand event of Mary's life was a journey taken to Lichfield,
+to stay with her grandfather, old Dr. Butt, at his house called Pipe
+Grange. She was then not quite four years old. Dr. Butt had been a
+friend, in former days, of Maria Edgeworth, who wrote the <i>Parents'
+Assistant</i> and other delightful stories; of Mr. Day, author of
+<i>Sandford and Merton</i>; and other clever people then living at
+Lichfield. He knew the<!-- Page vi --> great actor, David Garrick, too, who used to
+come there to see his brother; and the famous Dr. Samuel Johnson, who
+had been born and brought up at Lichfield. But to little Mary, scarcely
+more than a baby, these things were not of much interest. What she
+recollected of her grandfather was his present to her, on her fourth
+birthday, of "a doll with a paper hoop and wig of real flax." And her
+memories of Pipe Grange were of walks with her brother and nurse in
+green lanes; of lovely commons and old farmhouses, with walls covered
+with ivy and yew-trees cut in grotesque forms; of "feeding some little
+birds in a hedge, and coming one day and finding the nest and birds
+gone, which was a great grief to me."</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards the nursery party at Stanford was increased by two
+little cousins, Henry and Margaret Sherwood. They had lost their
+mother, and were sent to be for a time under the care of their aunt,
+Mrs. Butt. They joined in the romps of Marten and Mary, and very lively
+romps they seem to have been. Mary describes how her brother used to
+put her in a drawer and kick it down the nursery stairs; how he heaped
+chairs and tables one on the other, set her at the top of them, and
+then threw them all down; how he put a bridle round her neck and drove
+her about with a whip. "But," she says, "being a very hardy child, and
+not easily hurt, I suppose I had myself to blame for some of his
+excesses; for with all this he was the kindest of brothers to me, and I
+loved him very, very much."</p>
+
+<p>When Mary was six years old she began to make stories, but she tells us
+she had not the least recollection of what they were about. She was not
+yet able to write, so whenever she had thought out a story, she had to
+follow her mother about with a slate and pencil and get her to write at
+her dictation. The talk Mary and Marten heard while sitting at meals
+with their parents was clever and interesting. Many visitors came to
+the house, and after a while there were several young men living there,
+pupils of Mr. Butt, so that there was often a large party. The two
+little children were never allowed to interrupt, but had to sit and
+listen, "whether willing or not"; and in this<!-- Page vii --> way the shrewd and
+observant Mary picked up endless scraps of knowledge while still very
+young. She tells us a good deal about her education in these early
+days. "It was the fashion then for children to wear iron collars round
+the neck, with a backboard strapped over the shoulders; to one of these
+I was subjected from my sixth to my thirteenth year. It was put on in
+the morning, and seldom taken off till late in the evening, and I
+generally did all my lessons standing in stocks, with this stiff collar
+round my neck. At the same time I had the plainest possible food, such
+as dry bread and cold milk. I never sat on a chair in my mother's
+presence. Yet I was a very happy child, and when relieved from my
+collar I not unseldom manifested my delight by starting from our
+hall-door and taking a run for at least half a mile through the woods
+which adjoined our pleasure grounds."</p>
+
+<p>Marten, meanwhile, was having a much less strict and severe time of it.
+Mr. Butt was an easy-going man, who liked everything about him to be
+comfortable and pretty, and was not inclined to take much trouble
+either with himself or others. While Mary was with her mother in her
+dressing-room, working away at her books, Marten was supposed to be
+learning Latin in his father's study. But as Mr. Butt had no idea of
+authority, Marten made no progress whatever, and the end of it was that
+good Mrs. Butt had to teach herself Latin, in order to become her boy's
+tutor; and Mary was made to take it up as well, in order to incite him
+to learn.</p>
+
+<p>The children were great readers, though their books were few. <i>Robinson
+Crusoe</i>; two sets of fairy tales; <i>The Little Female Academy</i>; and
+<i>&AElig;sop's Fables</i> made up their whole library. <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> was
+Marten's favourite book; his wont, when a reading fit was on, was to
+place himself on the bottom step of the stairs and to mount one step
+every time he turned over a page. Mary, of course, copied him exactly.
+Another funny custom with the pair was, on the first day of every
+month, to take two sticks, with certain notches cut in them, and hide
+them in a hollow tree in the woods. There was a grand mystery about
+this, though Mary does not tell us<!-- Page viii --> in what it consisted. "No person,"
+she says, "was to see us do this, and no one was to know we did it."</p>
+
+<p>In the summer that Mary was eight years old, a quaint visitor came to
+Stanford Rectory. This was a distant relative who had married a
+Frenchman and lived at Paris through the gay and wicked period which
+ushered in the French Revolution. Mary's description of this lady and
+her coming to the rectory is very amusing: "Never shall I forget the
+arrival of Mme. de Pelev&eacute; at Stanford. She arrived in a post-chaise
+with a maid, a lap-dog, a canary-bird, an organ, and boxes heaped upon
+boxes till it was impossible to see the persons within. I was, of
+course, at the door to watch her alight. She was a large woman,
+elaborately dressed, highly rouged, carrying an umbrella, the first I
+had seen. She was dark, I remember, and had most brilliant eyes. The
+style of dress at that period was perhaps more preposterous and
+troublesome than any which has prevailed within the memory of those now
+living. This style had been introduced by the ill-fated Marie
+Antoinette, and Mme. de Pelev&eacute; had come straight from the very
+fountain-head of these absurdities. The hair was worn crisped or
+violently frizzed about the face in the shape of a horse-shoe; long
+stiff curls, fastened with pins, hung on the neck; and the whole was
+well pomatumed and powdered with different coloured powders. A high
+cushion was fastened at the top of the hair, and over that either a cap
+adorned with artificial flowers and feathers to such a height as
+sometimes rendered it somewhat difficult to preserve its equilibrium,
+or a balloon hat, a fabric of wire and tiffany, of immense
+circumference. The hat would require to be fixed on the head with long
+pins, and standing, trencherwise, quite flat and unbending in its full
+proportions. The crown was low, and, like the cap, richly set off with
+feathers and flowers. The lower part of the dress consisted of a full
+petticoat generally flounced, short sleeves, and a very long train; but
+instead of a hoop there was a vast pad at the bottom of the waist
+behind, and a frame of wire in front to throw out the neckerchief, so
+as much as possible to resemble the craw of a pigeon.<!-- Page ix --></p>
+
+<p>"Such were the leading articles of this style of dress, and so arranged
+was the figure which stepped forth from the chaise at the door of the
+lovely and simple parsonage of Stanford. My father was ready to hand
+her out, my mother to welcome her. The band-boxes were all conveyed
+into our best bedroom, while Madame had her place allotted to her in
+our drawing-room, where she sat like a queen, and really, by the
+multitudes of anecdotes she had to tell, rendered herself very
+agreeable. Whilst she was with us she never had concluded her toilet
+before one or two in the day, and she always appeared either in new
+dresses or new adjustments. I have often wished that I could recall
+some of the anecdotes she used to tell of the Court of Versailles, but
+one only can I remember; it referred to the then popular song of
+'Marlbrook,' which she used to sing. 'When the Dauphin,' she said, 'was
+born, a nurse was procured for him from the country, and there was no
+song with which she could soothe the babe but 'Marlbrook,' an old
+ballad, sung till then only in the provinces. The poor Queen heard the
+air, admired, and brought it forward, making it the fashion.' This is
+the only one of Mme. de Pelev&eacute;'s stories which I remember, although I
+was very greatly amused by them, and could have listened to her for
+hours together. My admiration was also strongly excited by the
+splendour and varieties of her dresses, her superb trimmings, her
+sleeves tied with knots of coloured ribbon, her trains of silk, her
+beautiful hats, and I could not understand the purpose for which she
+took so much pains to array herself."</p>
+
+<p>I think when we read of Miss Crosbie's arrival at Mr. Fairchild's, and
+the time she kept them all waiting for supper while she changed her
+gown, we shall be reminded of these early recollections of Mrs.
+Sherwood's. A year or two later this quaint Madame came again on a
+visit to Stanford; and on this occasion, as Mary tells us, she put it
+into the little girl's head, for the first time, to wonder whether she
+were pretty or no. "No sooner was dinner over," she says, "than I ran
+upstairs to a large mirror to make the important inquiry, and at this
+mirror I stood a long time, turning round and<!-- Page x --> examining myself with no
+small interest." Madame de Pelev&eacute; further encouraged her vanity by
+making her a present of "a gauze cap of a very gay description." It
+must have looked odd and out of place perched on the top of the little
+girl's "very long hair and very rosy cheeks." Another of Mme. de
+Pelev&eacute;'s not very judicious presents was "a shepherdess hat of pale
+blue silver tiffany." But as this hat had to be fastened on with
+"large, long corking-pins," it proved "a terrible evil" to its wearer;
+which, perhaps, was just as well!</p>
+
+<p>By this time dear brother Marten had been sent away to school at
+Reading; but little Lucy was growing old enough to be something of a
+playmate; and Margaret, the motherless cousin, had been brought again
+to Stanford on a long visit. We can fancy what a delightful companion
+to these two small ones Mary must have been. She had left off, for the
+time, writing stories, but she was never tired of telling them. In
+company she was, in those days, very silent and shy, and much at a loss
+for words; but they never failed her when telling her stories to her
+little companions. Her head, she says, was full of "fairies, wizards,
+enchanters, and all the imagery of heathen gods and goddesses which I
+could get out of any book in my father's study," and with these she
+wove the most wonderful tales, one story often going on, at every
+possible interval, for months together. Her lively imagination "filled
+every region of the wild woods at Stanford with imaginary people.
+Wherever I saw a few ashes in a glade, left by those who burnt sticks
+to sell the ashes to assist in the coarse washings in farmhouses, I
+fixed a hoard of gipsies and made long stories. If I could discern
+fairy rings, which abounded in those woods, they gave me another set of
+images; and I had imaginary hermits in every hollow of the rocky sides
+of the dingle, and imaginary castles on every height; whilst the church
+and churchyard supplied me with more ghosts and apparitions than I
+dared to tell of." Mary and her stories must have been better worth
+having than a whole library of "fairy-books."</p>
+
+<p>One source from which Mary drew her tales was a collection<!-- Page xi --> of old
+volumes which her father had bought at a sale and to which her mother
+had given up a room over the pantry and storeroom. Mr. Butt made Mary
+his librarian; and she revelled in old romances, such as Sir Philip
+Sydney's <i>Arcadia</i>, and in illustrated books of travel; spending many
+hours on a high stool in the bookroom, among "moths, dust, and black
+calf-skin," studying these treasures.</p>
+
+<p>One more glimpse must be given of those happy child-days, and we will
+have it in Mary's own words: "I grew so rapidly in my childhood, that
+at thirteen I had obtained my full height, which is considered above
+the usual standard of women. I stooped very much when thus growing. As
+my mother always dressed me like a child in a pinafore, I must
+certainly have been a very extraordinary sort of personage, and
+everyone cried out on seeing me as one that was to be a giantess. As my
+only little friend of about my own age was small and delicate, I was
+very often thoroughly abashed at my appearance; and therefore never was
+I so happy as when I was out of sight of visitors in my own beloved
+woods of Stanford. In those sweet woods I had many little embowered
+corners, which no one knew but myself; and there, when my daily tasks
+were done, I used to fly with a book and enjoy myself in places where I
+could hear the cooing of doves, the note of the blackbird, and the rush
+of two waterfalls coming from two sides of the valley and meeting
+within the range where I might stroll undisturbed by anyone. It must be
+noticed that I never made these excursions without carrying a huge
+wooden doll with me, which I generally slung with a string round my
+waist under my pinafore, as I was thought by the neighbours too big to
+like a doll. My sister, as a child, had not good health, and therefore
+she could bear neither the exposure nor fatigue I did; hence the reason
+wherefore I was so much alone. From this cause, too, she was never
+submitted to the same discipline that I was; she was never made so
+familiar with the stocks and iron collar, nor the heavy tasks; for
+after my brother was gone to school I still was carried on in my Latin
+studies, and even before I was twelve I was obliged to translate fifty
+lines<!-- Page xii --> of Virgil every morning, standing in these same stocks, with the
+iron collar pressing on my throat."</p>
+
+<p>When Mary was between twelve and thirteen a great change came in her
+life. Her father was presented to the vicarage of Kidderminster in
+Staffordshire, where the carpets are made. It was then a very rich
+living. It was settled that they should go to Kidderminster to live,
+while a curate was to do duty at Stanford and occupy the rectory. In
+those days clergymen often held two or even three livings at once in
+different parts of the country, taking the stipends themselves, and
+putting a curate in charge of whichever parishes they did not choose to
+reside in.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was pleased at the idea of a change, as children generally are;
+and so was her father, who loved society and the noise and bustle of a
+town. But to poor Mrs. Butt, who was a very shy, timid, retiring
+person, the idea of exchanging "the glorious groves of Stanford for a
+residence in a town, where nothing is seen but dusty houses and dyed
+worsted hanging to dry on huge frames in every open space," was
+terrible. Mary could well remember how, during that summer, her mother
+walked in the woods, crying bitterly and fretting over the coming
+change till her health suffered.</p>
+
+<p>Life in the big manufacturing town was much less wild and free than it
+had been in the Worcestershire parsonage; but the two little girls
+managed to be very happy in their own way. For one thing, they had a
+bedroom looking into the street, and a street was a new thing to them,
+and they spent every idle moment in staring out of the windows. They
+had a cupboard in which they kept their treasures&mdash;a dolls' house which
+they had brought from Stanford, and all the books they had hoarded up
+from childhood; "these, with two white cats, which we had also brought
+from Stanford, happily afforded us much amusement." Mary's rage for
+dolls was, moreover, at its height, though she more than ever took
+pains to hide her darlings, under her pinafore, from the eyes of
+Kidderminster.</p>
+
+<p>Most of all, however, they amused themselves, when alone, by talking
+together in characters, keeping to the same year<!-- Page xiii --> after year, till at
+length the play was played out. "We were both queens," Mary tells us,
+"and we were sisters, and were supposed to live near each other, and we
+pretended we had a great many children. In our narratives we allowed
+the introduction of fairies, and I used to tell long stories of things
+and places and adventures which I feigned I had met with in this my
+character of queen. The moment we two set out to walk, we always began
+to converse in these characters. My sister used generally to begin
+with, 'Well, sister, how do you do to-day? How are the children? Where
+have you been?' and before we were a yard from the house we were deep
+in talk. Oh, what wonderful tales was I wont to tell of things which I
+pretended I had seen, and how many, many happy hours have I and my
+sister spent in this way, I being the chief speaker."</p>
+
+<p>Not long after their coming to Kidderminster, Mary's father took her
+with him on a visit to a large country house in Shropshire. They drove
+all the way in a gig, a man-servant riding behind on horseback. They
+reached the house just in time to dress for dinner, at which there was
+to be a large party. Mary had to put on her "very best dress, which,"
+she tells us, "was a blue silk slip, with a muslin frock over it, a
+blue sash, and, oh! sad to say, my silver tiffany hat. I did not dare
+but wear it, as it had been sent with me."</p>
+
+<p>A maid had been told off to dress Mary, and "great was the pains which
+she took to fix my shepherdess hat on one side, as it was intended to
+be worn, and to arrange my hair, which was long and hanging in curls;
+but what would I not have given to have got rid of the rustling
+tiffany!" Mary describes her consternation when she reached the
+drawing-room in this array, and found "a number of great people" there,
+but no other child to consort with. When everybody went to walk in the
+shrubberies after dinner, and a gentleman offered her his arm, as was
+the wont in those days, she was so panic-stricken that she darted up a
+bank, through the shrubs and away, and showed herself no more that
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing that happened was that the other little cousin before
+mentioned, Henry Sherwood, came to live with the<!-- Page xiv --> Butts and go to a
+day-school in the town. Mary recalls him as she saw him on arriving&mdash;a
+very small, fair-haired boy, dressed in "a full suit of what used to be
+called pepper-and-salt cloth." He soon settled down in his new home, "a
+very quiet little personage, very good-tempered, and very much in awe
+of his aunt," with a fame among his cousins for his talent for making
+paper boxes one within another. His bed was in an attic, next door to
+his big cousin Marten's room. Marten had a shelf full of books, which
+Henry used to carry off to his own domain and read over and over again.
+From these books he first dated an intense love of reading which was
+destined to be his chief stand-by in old age. We shall not wonder that
+Mary loved to recall her early remembrances of this little school-boy
+when we know that, several years later, he became her husband, with
+whom she spent a long and happy married life.</p>
+
+<p>Mary has other amusing recollections of this time of her early
+girlhood, and tells them in her own charming way; but we must pass on
+to her school life, which is bound to interest her readers of to-day,
+so many of whom go to school. It was the summer of 1790. Mr. Butt had
+been taking his turn of duty at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, being by
+this time one of the chaplains to the King. On his way home he stopped
+at Reading to visit his friend Dr. Valpy, in whose school Marten had
+for a time been educated.</p>
+
+<p>During this visit Dr. Valpy took him to see "a sort of exhibition" got
+up by the "young ladies" of M. and Mme. de St. Quentin's school. This
+famous school, which was afterwards removed to London, was held then in
+the old Abbey at Reading. "This," thought Mr. Butt, "is the very place
+for Mary"; and to the Abbey School it was decided that she should go.</p>
+
+<p>Marten was now at Westminster School. When the time came for him to
+return after the holidays, Mary had a seat in the chaise, and drove
+with him and her father as far as Reading. You will be amused by her
+description of her school and schoolmistresses, and of her first
+introduction to them.</p>
+
+<p>"The house&mdash;or, rather, the Abbey itself&mdash;was exceedingly<!-- Page xv --> interesting;
+and though I know not its exact history, yet I knew every hole and
+corner of what remained of the ancient building, which consisted of a
+gateway with rooms above, and on each side of it a vast staircase, of
+which the balustrades had originally been gilt. Then, too, there were
+many little nooks and round closets, and many larger and smaller rooms
+and passages, which appeared to be rather more modern; whilst the
+gateway itself stood without the garden walls upon the Forbury or open
+green, which belonged to the town, and where Dr. Valpy's boys played
+after school hours. The best part of the house was encompassed by a
+beautiful old-fashioned garden, where the young ladies were allowed to
+wander under tall trees in hot summer evenings."</p>
+
+<p>When Mary arrived at the Abbey the holidays were not quite over, and
+she was the first of the sixty pupils to present herself. The school
+was kept by Mme. de St. Quentin and a Mrs. Latournelle, who were
+partners. "Madame," as the girls always called her, was an Englishwoman
+by birth, but had married a French refugee whom circumstances had
+obliged to become French teacher in the school. Madame was a handsome
+woman, with bright eyes and a very dignified presence. Mary tells us
+that she danced remarkably well, played and sang and did fine
+needlework, and "spoke well and agreeably in English and in French
+without fear." Mrs. Latournelle was a funny, old-fashioned body, whose
+chief concern was with the housekeeping, tea-making, and other domestic
+duties. She had a cork leg, and her dress had never been known to
+change its fashion. "Her white muslin handkerchief was always pinned
+with the same number of pins; her muslin apron always hung in the same
+form; she always wore the same short sleeves, cuffs, and ruffles, with
+a breast-bow to answer the bow on her cap, both being flat with two
+notched ends."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Latournelle received Mary in a wainscotted parlour, hung round
+with miniatures and pieces of framed needlework done in chenille,
+representing tombs and weeping willows. Mary was to be what in those
+days was known as a "parlour-boarder," which meant that she was treated
+in part as a<!-- Page xvi --> grown-up young lady, had more liberty and privileges than
+the other girls, and, in fact, was allowed to do very much as she
+liked. She thought herself gloriously happy, on coming down to
+breakfast next day in the twilight of a winter's morning, to be allowed
+to eat hot buttered toast and to draw as near as she liked to the fire;
+neither of which things was it lawful to do at home.</p>
+
+<p>Mary was "vastly amused," during the first few days, at seeing her
+future school-fellows arrive one after another. The two first to come
+were a pair of twin sisters named Martha and Mary Lee, so exactly alike
+that they could only be distinguished by a mark which one had on her
+forehead under the hair. There were many other big girls, but none
+besides herself who were parlour-boarders during that quarter. Mary
+soon chose out three to be her special friends; a Miss Poultenham,
+Amelia Reinagle (daughter of an artist who in that day was rather
+celebrated), and Mary Brown&mdash;niece of Mrs. Latournelle.</p>
+
+<p>M. and Mme. de St. Quentin presently returned, and Mary tells us how
+shy she felt when "Monsieur" summoned her to undergo a sort of
+examination. "Full well I remember the morning when he called me into
+his study to feel the pulse of my intellect, as he said, in order that
+he might know in what class to place me. All the girls whom he
+particularly instructed were standing by, all of them being superior to
+me in the knowledge of those things usually taught in schools. Behold
+me, then, in imagination, tall as I am now, standing before my master,
+and blushing till my blushes made me ashamed to look up. '<i>Eh bien</i>,
+mademoiselle,' he said, 'have you much knowledge of French?' 'No, sir,'
+I answered. 'Are you much acquainted with history?' And he went on from
+one thing to another, asking me questions, and always receiving a
+negative. At length, smiling, he said: 'Tell me, mademoiselle, then,
+what you do know.' I stammered 'Latin&mdash;Virgil,' and finished off with a
+regular flood of tears. At this he laughed outright, and immediately
+set me down in his class and gave me lessons for every day."<!-- Page xvii --></p>
+
+<p>The discipline of the Abbey seems to have been very slack, especially
+for the big girls. This is how Mary describes it: "The liberty which
+the first class had was so great that, if we attended our tutor in his
+study for an hour or two every morning, no human being ever took the
+trouble to enquire where we spent the rest of the day between our
+meals. Thus, whether we gossiped in one turret or another, whether we
+lounged about the garden or out of the window above the gateway, no one
+so much as said, 'Where have you been, mademoiselle?'"</p>
+
+<p>Mary Butt spent a year at Reading, where she learnt a good deal of
+French, and not, it would seem, much of anything else. She left it the
+following Christmas with many tears, thinking that her school-days were
+over; but a few months later her parents decided to send her back to
+the Abbey for another year, and that her sister Lucy should go too.
+That was in the autumn of 1792, when the French Revolution was just
+beginning. On January 21, 1793, the terrible news came of the murder of
+the unhappy King, Louis XVI. All Europe, and England especially, were
+horrified at the cruel deed; and at the Abbey, where there was a strong
+French Royalist element, feeling ran particularly high. "Monsieur and
+Madame went into deep mourning, as did also many of the elder girls.
+Multitudes of the French nobility came thronging into Reading,
+gathering about the Abbey, and some of them half living within its
+walls." Our friend Mary, as a half-fledged young lady, saw a great deal
+of these poor refugees, who had lost everything but their lives. They
+seem, however, to have shown the true French courage and gaiety under
+evil circumstances. There was much singing and playing under the trees;
+and they helped the school-girls to get up some little French plays to
+act at their breaking-up party. Mary took a part in the character of a
+French abbess, but she tells us that "assuredly" her talents never lay
+in the acting line, and very honestly adds: "I could never sufficiently
+have forgotten myself as to have acted well."</p>
+
+<p>Soon after Mary's finally leaving school her parents decided to put a
+curate in charge of the Kidderminster living, and to<!-- Page xviii --> return to "lovely
+Stanford." This was a great relief to poor, shy Mrs. Butt, who had been
+like a caged bird in Kidderminster; but the young people were not quite
+sure if they liked the change. They had made many friends in the town
+and its neighbourhood; and now that Mary was, as we say nowadays, "come
+out," she had been taken to various balls and other diversions. They
+soon, however, settled down again in the old home; and as there was a
+large, delightful, and very friendly family at Stanford Court hard by,
+they found plenty of variety and amusement even in the depths of the
+country.</p>
+
+<p>The young Butts went across very often to dine at the Court; and on
+these occasions their hostess, Lady Winnington, got up little impromptu
+dances, which they greatly enjoyed. "Often," Mary writes, "when we
+dined at the Court she would send for the miller, who played the
+violin, and set us all to dance. My brother was always the partner of
+the eldest Miss Winnington, and as neither of them could tell one tune
+from another or dance a single step, we generally marvelled how they
+got on at all. The steward also, a great, big, and in our opinion most
+supremely ugly man, generally fell to my sister's lot. Thus, we did
+very well, and enjoyed ourselves in our own way. Sometimes the old
+Welsh harper came, and then we had a more set dance, and some of the
+ladies'-maids, and one or two of the upper men-servants, and the miller
+himself, and Mr. Taylor of the Fall, and the miller's brother Tommy,
+were asked, and then things were carried on in a superior style. We
+went into a larger room, and there was more change of partners; but as
+nothing could have induced the son and heir to ask a stranger, I always
+had him, whilst Miss Winnington and my sister sometimes fell to the
+share of the miller and his brother, the miller being himself musical
+and footing it to the tune better than his partners. The miller's
+brother seemed to wheel along rather than dance, throwing himself back
+and looking, in his white waistcoat which was kept for these grand
+occasions, not unlike a sack of meal set upright on trucks and so
+pushed about the room. I am ready to laugh to this hour when I think of
+these balls, and I certainly obtained very high<!-- Page xix --> celebrity then and
+there for being something very superior in the dancing line."</p>
+
+<p>The happy life at Stanford was not destined to last long, for Mr.
+Butt's health began to fail, and in the autumn of 1795 he died. Mrs.
+Butt took a house at Bridgnorth, and settled there with her two
+daughters. Mary had now begun to write in good earnest; and while
+living at Bridgnorth two of her tales were published, one called
+<i>Margarita</i> and the other <i>Susan Grey</i>. Probably very few people now
+living have ever seen or read these stories; and if we did come across
+them it is to be feared we should think them very dull and long-winded.
+But when new they were much admired, particularly <i>Susan Grey</i>, which
+was one of the earliest tales written to interest rich and educated
+people in the poor and ignorant. It was widely read and reprinted many
+and many times.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the pleasure and excitement of authorship, life in the
+little house in the sleepy town of Bridgnorth was very dull and cramped
+to the two young girls; and they were made much happier, because they
+were much busier, when the clergyman of one of the town churches asked
+them to undertake the management of his Sunday school. This is what
+Sunday school teaching meant at the end of the eighteenth century: "We
+attended the school so diligently on the Sunday that the parents
+brought the children in crowds, and we were obliged to stop short when
+each of us had about thirty-five girls and the old schoolmaster as many
+boys. We made bonnets and tippets for our girls; we walked with them to
+church; we looked them up in the week days; we were vastly busy; we
+were first amused, and next deeply interested."&mdash;"Sunday schools," she
+goes on to say, "then were comparatively new things, so that our
+attentions were more valued then than they would be nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>The next important event in Mary's life was her marriage with her
+cousin Henry, by which she became the "Mrs. Sherwood" whose name has
+been a household word to generations of children. Henry Sherwood had
+had a curious history, and had endured many hardships and adventures in
+his youthful<!-- Page xx --> days. As a boy of about thirteen he had made a voyage on
+a rotten old French coasting-vessel, which was very nearly wrecked; was
+run into in the night by an unknown ship; and all but foundered in the
+Bay of Biscay. The French Revolution had just begun; and when the brig
+touched at Marseilles this young lad saw terrible sights of men hung
+from lamp-posts; heard the grisly cry, "&Agrave; la lanterne! &agrave; la lanterne!"
+and was even himself seized by some of the mob, though he happily
+contrived, in the confusion, to slip away. In Marseilles, too, he first
+saw the guillotine; it was carried about the streets in procession
+whilst the populace yelled out the "Marseillaise Hymn." Later on in the
+Revolution he was seized, as an Englishman, and imprisoned with a
+number of others at Abbeville; but, escaping from there, he made a
+wonderful journey through France, Switzerland, and Germany with his
+father, step-mother, and their five young children; being driven by the
+state of affairs from town to town, and wandering further and further
+afield in the effort to reach England. At length, after difficulties
+and hardships innumerable, they landed at Hull; and Henry made his way
+to some of his relations, who took care of him and set him on his legs
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Sherwood soon afterwards entered the army, joining the regiment
+then known as the 53rd Foot; and about the same time he began to come
+to Bridgnorth, where his pretty young cousin, Mary Butt, was growing
+more and more attractive. After a while he wrote her a letter, asking
+if she would be his wife; and on June 30, 1803, they were married at
+Bridgnorth.</p>
+
+<p>Mary's marriage made a great change in her life. She had married into
+what used to be called a "marching regiment," which was constantly on
+the move from one station to another. After being transferred from
+place to place several times within a year, with long, wearisome
+journeys both by sea and land, following the regiment as it marched,
+the news came that the 53rd was ordered on foreign service, which meant
+a longer journey still. It was presently known that the regiment's
+destination was the East Indies, or, as we should now call it, India.
+This was a great blow to poor Mrs. Sherwood, for by<!-- Page xxi --> this time she was
+the mother of a baby girl, whom she must leave behind in England.</p>
+
+<p>The regiment embarked at Portsmouth. Captain and Mrs. Sherwood had a
+miserable little cabin rigged up on deck, made only of canvas, and with
+a huge gun filling more than half the space. The vessel in which they
+sailed was called the <i>Devonshire</i>. It was quite a fleet that set sail,
+for besides the vessels needed to convey the troops, there had to be
+several armed cruisers in attendance. The war with France was going on,
+and there was continual danger of an attack by the enemy. When they had
+been more than three months at sea, three strange vessels were sighted,
+two of which soon ran up the French colours and began to fire, without
+the slightest warning, upon the English vessels. In a moment all was
+bustle on board the <i>Devonshire</i>, clearing the decks for action. The
+women and children were sent down into the hold, where they had to sit
+for hours in the dark, some way below watermark, while the shots
+whistled through the rigging overhead, the guns roared, the ladders had
+been taken away, and none of them could learn a word of what was going
+forward on deck, where their husbands and fathers were helping to man
+the guns. The fighting continued till late at night, but no serious
+damage befell the <i>Devonshire</i>. At length the women and children were
+hoisted up out of the hold, and "enjoyed some negus and biscuits."</p>
+
+<p>From that time they saw no more of the French. At last the voyage, with
+its anxieties and discomforts, was over; the <i>Devonshire</i> sailed into
+the Hoogli and anchored in Diamond Harbour, expecting boats to come
+down from Calcutta to carry the regiment up there.</p>
+
+<p>It would take too long to tell the story of the Sherwoods' life in
+India, though Mrs. Sherwood's account of it is very good reading. Two
+or three scenes will give you some notion of how she spent her time.</p>
+
+<p>A certain number of the soldiers of the regiment were allowed to bring
+their wives and children out with them. There were no Government
+schools then for the regimental children, so that these little people
+idled away their time round the barracks,<!-- Page xxii --> and were as ignorant as the
+day they were born. It came into Mrs. Sherwood's head to start a school
+for them, and this school she herself taught for four hours every
+morning, except in the very hottest weather; and the only help she had
+was from a sergeant of the regiment, a kind, good man. Some of the
+officers also were very thankful to send their children to school, so
+that Mrs. Sherwood soon had as many as fifty boys and girls coming
+daily to her bungalow. Very hard work it was teaching them to read and
+write and to be gentle, truthful, and obedient. She found the officers'
+children generally more troublesome than the soldiers', because they
+were more spoilt, or, as she puts it, pampered and indulged. For these
+children she wrote many of her books, especially her <i>Stories on the
+Church Catechism</i>, which can still be bought, and which give a very
+interesting picture of the life of a soldier's child in India some
+eighty years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Besides her day-school, Mrs. Sherwood collected in her house several
+little orphans, the children of poor soldiers' wives who quickly died
+in the trying climate of India. She found some of these children being
+dreadfully neglected and half starved, so took them home to her and
+brought them up with her own children. She gives an amusing description
+of her home life in India during the hot season, so terribly trying to
+Europeans: "The mode of existence of an English family during the hot
+winds in India is so very unlike anything in Europe that I must not
+omit to describe it. Every outer door of the house and every window is
+closed; all the interior doors and venetians are, however, open, whilst
+most of the private apartments are shut in by drop-curtains or screens
+of grass, looking like fine wire-work, partially covered with green
+silk. The hall, which never has any other than borrowed lights in any
+bungalow, is always in the centre of the house, and ours at Cawnpore
+had a large room on each side of it, with baths and sleeping-rooms. In
+the hot winds I always sat in the hall at Cawnpore. Though I was that
+year without a baby of my own, I had my orphan, my little Annie, always
+by me, quietly occupying herself when not actually receiving
+instruction from me. I had given her<!-- Page xxiii --> a good-sized box, painted green,
+with a lock and key; she had a little chair and table.</p>
+
+<p>"She was the neatest of all neat little people, somewhat faddy and
+particular, perchance. She was the child, of all others, to live with
+an ancient grandmother. Annie's treasures were few, but they were all
+contained in her green box. She never wanted occupation; she was either
+dressing her doll or finding pretty verses in her Bible, marking the
+places with an infinitude of minute pieces of paper. It was a great
+delight to me to have this little quiet one by my side.</p>
+
+<p>"In another part of this hall sat Mr. Sherwood during most part of the
+morning, either engaged with his accounts, his journal, or his books.
+He, of course, did not like the confinement so well as I did, and often
+contrived to get out to a neighbour's bungalow in his palanquin during
+some part of the long morning. In one of the side-rooms sat Sergeant
+Clarke, with his books and accounts. This worthy and most methodical
+personage used to fill up his time in copying my manuscripts in a very
+neat hand, and in giving lessons in reading and spelling, etc., to
+Annie. In the other room was the orphan Sally, with her toys. Beside
+her sat her attendant, chewing her paun[A] and enjoying a state of
+perfect apathy. Thus did our mornings pass, whilst we sat in what the
+lovers of broad daylight would call almost darkness. During these
+mornings we heard no sounds but the monotonous click, click of the
+punkah,[B] or the melancholy moaning of the burning blast without, with
+the splash and dripping of the water thrown over the tatties.[C] At one
+o'clock, or perhaps somewhat later, the tiffin [answering to our
+luncheon] was always served, a hot dinner, in fact, consisting always
+of curry and a variety of vegetables. We often dined at this hour, the
+children at a little table in the room, after which we all lay down,
+the adults <!-- Page xxiv -->on sofas and the children on the floor, under the punkah in
+the hall. At four, or later perhaps, we had coffee brought. We then
+bathed and dressed, and at six or thereabouts, the wind generally
+falling, the tatties were removed, the doors and windows of the house
+were opened, and we either took an airing in carriages or sat in the
+veranda; but the evenings and nights of the hot winds brought no
+refreshment."</p>
+
+<p>The days spent in that strange hot twilight must have seemed very long
+to children, even to those who had forgotten or never known the freedom
+of life in England; but Mrs. Sherwood had plenty of ways of filling her
+long quiet hours. She wrote a number of little stories about life in
+India, which were very much liked in their day and went through many
+editions. One of these was called <i>The Ayah and Lady</i>, and told about a
+native servant, her ignorant notions and strange ways, and how her
+mistress tried to do her good. Another was <i>Lucy and her Dhaye</i>, the
+history of a little English girl and her dark-skinned nurse, who was so
+devoted to her that she nearly broke her heart when Lucy went home to
+England and she was left behind. But the best of them all was <i>Little
+Henry and his Bearer</i>, which is one of the most famous stories ever
+written for children. The history of little Henry, the neglected orphan
+child whom nobody loved save his poor faithful heathen "bearer," or
+native servant, is exceedingly pretty and touching.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Sherwood was always thinking about children and trying to find out
+ways of helping them to be happy and good. A page from her diary will
+show how often she must have been grieved and distressed at the spoilt
+boys and girls she saw in the houses of the English merchants and Civil
+servants at Calcutta and elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>"I must now proceed," she writes, "to some description of Miss Louisa,
+the eldest daughter then in India of our friends, who at that time
+might have been about six or seven. She was tall of her age, very
+brown, and very pale. She had been entirely reared in India, and was
+accustomed from her earliest infancy to be attended by a multitude of
+servants, whom she<!-- Page xxv --> despised thoroughly as being black, although, no
+doubt, she preferred their society to her own country-people, as they
+ministered with much flattery and servility to her wants. Wherever she
+had moved during these first years of her life she had been followed by
+her ayah, and probably by one or two bearers, and she was perfectly
+aware that if she got into any mischief they would be blamed and not
+herself. In the meantime, except in the article of food, every desire
+and every caprice and every want had been indulged to satiety. No one
+who has not seen it could imagine the profusion of toys which are
+scattered about an Indian house wherever the 'babalogue' (children
+people) are permitted to range. There may be seen fine polished and
+painted toys from Benares, in which all the household utensils of the
+country, the fruits, and even the animals, are represented, the last
+most ludicrously incorrect. Toys in painted clay from Morshedabad and
+Calcutta, representing figures of gods and goddesses, with horses,
+camels, elephants, peacocks, and parrots, and now and then a 'tope
+walla,' or hat wearer, as they call the English, in full regimentals
+and cocked hat, seated on a clumsy, ill-formed thing meant for a horse.
+Then add to these English, French, and Dutch toys, which generally lie
+pell-mell in every corner where the listless, toy-satiated child may
+have thrown or kicked them.</p>
+
+<p>"The quantity of inner and outer garments worn by a little girl in
+England would render it extremely fatiguing to change the dress so
+often as our little ladies are required to do in India. Miss Louisa's
+attire consisted of a single garment, a frock body without sleeves,
+attached to a pair of trousers, with rather a short, full skirt
+gathered into the body with the trousers, so as to form one whole, the
+whole being ruffled with the finest jindelly, a cloth which is not
+unlike cambric, every ruffle being plaited in the most delicate manner.
+These ruffles are doubled and trebled on the top of the arm, forming
+there a substitute for a sleeve; and the same is done around the ankle,
+answering the purpose almost of a stocking, or at least concealing its
+absence. Fine coloured kid shoes ought to have<!-- Page xxvi --> completed this attire,
+but it most often happened that these were kicked away among the
+rejected toys.</p>
+
+<p>"How many times in a day the dress of Miss Louisa was renewed, who
+shall say? It, however, depended much upon the accidents which might
+happen to it; but four times was the usual arrangement, which was once
+before breakfast, once after, once again before tiffin, and once again
+for the evening airing. The child, being now nearly seven years old,
+was permitted to move about the house independently of her ayah; thus,
+she was sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the veranda, sometimes in
+one room, sometimes in another. In an Indian house in the hot season no
+inner door is ever shut, and curtains only are hung in the doorways, so
+that this little wild one was in and out and everywhere just as it hit
+her fancy. She had never been taught even to know her letters; she had
+never been kept to any task; she was a complete slave of idleness,
+restlessness, and ennui. 'It is time for Louisa to go to England,' was
+quietly remarked by the parents; and no one present controverted the
+point."</p>
+
+<p>Children like this must have made the good Mrs. Sherwood very unhappy;
+her own little ones&mdash;of whom she had three who lived to come home to
+England&mdash;were very differently brought up. She had also a lovely little
+boy named Henry, and a little fair-haired Lucy, who both died in India
+before they were two years old.</p>
+
+<p>It would be impossible to end even this short sketch of Mrs. Sherwood's
+Indian life without mentioning her friendship with Henry Martyn, that
+saintly soul and famous missionary in India and Persia. When the
+Sherwoods knew him he was Government chaplain at Dinapore, a great
+military station, at which the 53rd Foot then was. Mrs. Sherwood nursed
+him through a bad illness, and she and her husband afterwards paid him
+a visit in his quarters at Cawnpore, to which place he had been
+transferred. He had a school at Cawnpore for little native children;
+and worked hard at preaching to the heathen; while all the time doing
+his utmost for the soldiers of the various regiments stationed in the
+barracks. The Sherwoods<!-- Page xxvii --> heard his wonderful farewell sermon before
+starting for Persia; and the news of his death in that far land reached
+them not long before they quitted India for England.</p>
+
+<p>After being about twelve years in the East, the 53rd Regiment was
+ordered home, and very thankful Captain and Mrs. Sherwood were to bring
+the children they still had living safely back to a more healthy
+climate. Two of the orphans came with them, so there was quite a party
+of little people on board the ship; and when they landed at Liverpool
+they must have been a very quaint-looking group, for "we had not a
+bonnet in the party; we all wore caps trimmed with lace, white dresses,
+and Indian shawls." Can we wonder if, as Mrs. Sherwood goes on to say,
+"we were followed wherever we went by hundreds of the residents of
+Liverpool"?</p>
+
+<p>The rest of Mrs. Sherwood's long life was spent in England, save for an
+occasional visit to France and Switzerland. She and her husband settled
+in the west, where she had been born and bred, and of which she was so
+fond. She had more children, most of whom died young; and she lived a
+very busy, active, useful life, working hard at writing stories and
+tracts, visiting the prison at Worcester, and doing whatever good and
+useful work lay within her power.</p>
+
+<p>The first part of the <i>Fairchild Family</i> was published in 1818. It was
+so popular that, more than twenty years afterwards, she wrote a second
+part, which, as you will see, begins at p. 150. As we read we shall
+notice little points of difference between it and the first part; but
+our friends, Lucy, Emily, and Henry are just as nice and as naughty, as
+good and as silly, as they were in the opening chapters of the book.</p>
+
+<p>A few years later, when a very old woman, Mrs. Sherwood wrote a third
+part of the <i>Fairchild Family</i>, in which she was helped by her
+daughter, Mrs. Kelly. But this third part is less entertaining and
+interesting than the two which went before it, and is also not entirely
+Mrs. Sherwood's own work; so you will not find it printed here.</p>
+
+<p>In 1851 Mrs. Sherwood died at Twickenham, where she had<!-- Page xxviii --> gone to live a
+few years previously. In the course of her long life she had seen many
+trials and sorrows, but she had had a great deal of happiness. She had
+made the very most of all the gifts given her by God. Countless
+children have been the happier and the better for what she wrote for
+them. And by means of this new edition of a dear old book, with its
+pleasant type and charming illustrations, I hope a new generation will
+spring up of lovers and admirers of Mrs. Sherwood.</p>
+
+<p class="signature">MARY E. PALGRAVE.</p>
+
+<a name="image_xxviii"></a><div class="figbottom">
+<img src="images/xxviii.png" border="0"
+ width="357" height="256" ALT=""></div><!-- Page xxix -->
+
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<p>[A] Described in <i>Little Henry and his Bearer</i> as "an intoxicating
+mixture of opium and sugar."</p>
+
+<p>[B] The huge fan, hanging from the ceiling, by which the air of houses
+in India is kept moving.</p>
+
+<p>[C] The "tatta" is a blind, or screen, woven of sweet-smelling grass,
+which is kept constantly wet by the water-carriers.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;">
+
+<p><a name="image_xxix"></a><div class="figtitle newpg"><img src="images/xxix.png" border="0"
+ width="511" height="329" ALT="Contents"></div>
+
+<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="3" summary="Contents" align="center">
+
+<tr valign="bottom">
+ <td align="left" valign="top">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom"><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Introduction</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#Introduction">ix</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="bottom">
+<td colspan="2" align="center"><a href="#Part_I"><b>PART I</b></a><td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Birthday Walk</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Birthday_Walk">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Mrs. Fairchild's Story</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Mrs_Fairchilds_Story">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">On Envy</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#On_Envy">19</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Story of the Apples</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_the_Apples">25</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Story of an Unhappy Day</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_an_Unhappy_Day">34</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Story of Ambition; or, The Wish to be Great</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_Ambition_or_The_Wish_to_be_Great">45</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The All-Seeing God</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_All-Seeing_God">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Emily's Recovery, and the Old Story of Mrs. Howard</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Emilys_Recovery_and_the_Old_Story_of_Mrs_Howard">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Sad Story of a Disobedient Child</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Sad_Story_of_a_Disobedient_Child">84</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Two Books</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Two_Books">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The History of the Orphan Boy</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_History_of_the_Orphan_Boy">92</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The History of Little Henri</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_History_of_Little_Henri">107</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">A Story of Besetting Sins</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#A_Story_of_Besetting_Sins">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">A Visit to Mary Bush</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#A_Visit_to_Mary_Bush">143</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="bottom">
+<td colspan="2" align="center"><a href="#Part_II"><b>PART II</b></a><td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Story of Miss Crosbie's Presents</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_Miss_Crosbies_Presents">150</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">A Visit to Mrs. Goodriche</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#A_Visit_to_Mrs_Goodriche">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc"><!-- Page xxx -->Story of the Last Days of Mrs. Howard</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_the_Last_Days_of_Mrs_Howard">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Fair Little Lady</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Fair_Little_Lady">181</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Story of a Holiday</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_a_Holiday">184</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Little Edwy and the Echo</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Little_Edwy_and_the_Echo">189</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Further Story of a Holiday</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Further_Story_of_a_Holiday">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Happy Evening</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Happy_Evening">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Breakfast at Mr. Burke's</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Breakfast_at_Mr_Burkes">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Unruly Family</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Unruly_Family">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Story of Henry's Adventure</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Story_of_Henrys_Adventure">238</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Story in Emily's Book. (Part I.)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Story_in_Emilys_Book_Part_I">245</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Story in Emily's Book. (Part II.)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Story_in_Emilys_Book_Part_II">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Guests at Mr. Fairchild's</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Guests_at_Mr_Fairchilds">286</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">More about Bessy</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#More_about_Bessy">300</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Bessy's Misfortunes</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Bessys_Misfortunes">313</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">History of Little Bernard Low. (Part I.)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low">326</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">History of Little Bernard Low. (Part II.)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Second_Part_of_the_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low">341</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">History of Little Bernard Low. (Part III.)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Third_Part_of_the_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low">354</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">The Birthday Feast</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#The_Birthday_Feast">382</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Grandmamma Fairchild</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Grandmamma_Fairchild">400</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Great Changes</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Great_Changes">408</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Grandmamma and the Children</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Grandmamma_and_the_Children">416</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">History of Evelyn Vaughan. (Part I)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Grandmammas_History_of_Evelyn_Vaughan_Part_I">421</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">History of Evelyn Vaughan. (Part II.)</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Grandmammas_History_of_Evelyn_Vaughan_Part_II">446</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+<td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="toc">Farewell to the Old Home</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<a href="#Farewell_to_the_Old_Home">464</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;">
+
+<p><a name="image_xxxi"></a><div class="figtitle newpg">
+<img src="images/xxxi.png" border="0"
+ width="514" height="355" ALT="List of illustrations"></div>
+
+
+<table border="0" width="75%" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="2" summary="List of Illustrations" align="center">
+
+<tr valign="bottom">
+ <td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom"><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<div class="tocillus"><span class="smcap"><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></span>&mdash;Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children, Lucy, Emily and Henry.</div></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Good children</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_3">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">They ran on before</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_5">5</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Here were abundance of flowers</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_8">8</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"I sat down on one of the branches to eat cherries"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_9">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Mrs. Grace taught me to sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught me to read</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_11">11</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"How lovely! How beautiful!"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_19">19</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">She saw that it was a ring</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_24">24</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Henry stood under the apple-tree</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_25">25</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">There was one he could just reach</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_27">27</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Behind the stable</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_33">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Lucy and Emily</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_34">34</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Away he ran into the garden, followed by Lucy and Emily</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_37">37</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">They went along the great gallery</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_45">45</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Emily and Lucy had never seen such fine clothes before</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_53">53</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Dressed</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_58">58</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">At last she fell asleep</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_59">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">She took two or three damsons, which she ate in great haste</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_61">61</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"What sound is that I hear?" said Emily</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_67">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Emily and her brother and sister went to play in the garden</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_69">69</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk slip"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_75">75</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Looking in the glass, with a candle in her hand</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_84">84</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus"><!-- Page xxxii -->"Please choose a book for me"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Henry reads the story</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_91">91</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Marten behaved well at breakfast</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_92">92</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">A little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown, came into the kitchen</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_99">99</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Marten goes to school</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_106">106</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Henri stood at the window</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_107">107</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"Do you remember anything of the sermon?"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_131">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Miss Betsy</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_142">142</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">The children looked at the kittens</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_143">143</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Drinking tea at the door of the cottage, round the little table</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Miss Crosbie spoke kindly to her</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_150">150</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">In the summer parlour</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_159">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_162">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">The happy little girls went with the dolls into the bow-window</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_175">175</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">The coach came in sight</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_181">181</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Henry looked along the road</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_184">184</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">He turned away from the terrible bird</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_189">189</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Could it be her own&mdash;her Edwy? She could hardly be sure of her happiness</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_202">202</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little children</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_213">213</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">The magpie on the stile</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_215">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Preparing the peas for supper</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_216">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_222">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">They had a game at marbles</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_228">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">The noise continued till the two brothers were fairly out of the house</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_231">231</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Lucy and Emily had now each a doll</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_245">245</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Going gaily down the hill</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_258">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Margot rose and made a curtsey</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_263">263</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Meeta offered to carry the honey</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_285">285</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"She does not know that I made a slit in my frock"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_286">286</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead leaves</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_297">297</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Off she ran after him</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_299">299</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">She saw Bessy amongst some gooseberry bushes</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_300">300</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"What! what!" cried Mrs. Goodriche</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_303">303</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Bessy was crying most piteously</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_313">313</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus"><!-- Page xxxiii -->"At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and Miss Lucy"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_319">319</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Bessy was very sorry to leave her young friends</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_326">326</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a to-do</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_333">333</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"Let us sit here under the shade of a tree"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_341">341</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">He took up a slip of wood</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_353">353</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">There was no end of the indulgences given in private to the boy</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_354">354</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_381">381</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">She only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look well</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_382">382</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">For a long time they were all very still with their toys</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_387">387</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">In their neatest morning dress</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_399">399</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"Will Lucy love me?" said the old lady</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_400">400</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_408">408</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">It was Emily's step</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_415">415</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_416">416</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">A hundred years ago</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_420">420</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">To teach little Francis his letters</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_421">421</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"I cannot tell what the child's head is running on"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_431">431</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">To hang flowers round its neck</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_445">445</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Miss Anne Vaughan led her niece by the hand</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_446">446</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">"What a bustle there is to get ready on a dancing day"</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_451">451</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Henry reminded her of the robin</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_464">464</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr valign="top">
+  <td align="left" valign="top" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;">
+<span class="tocillus">Someone was waving something white</span></td>
+<td align="right" valign="bottom" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#image_470">470</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<a name="image_xxxiii"></a><div class="figbottom">
+<img src="images/xxxiii.png" border="0" width="202" height="202" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page xxxiv -->
+<p><a name="image_xxxiv"></a><div class="figtitle newpg"><img src="images/xxxiv.png" border="0"
+ width="384" height="404" ALT="The Fairchild Family"></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"><!-- Page 1 -->
+<h1><a name="The" id="The"></a><span class="smaller">The</span><br>
+History of the Fairchild Family</h1>
+
+
+<h2><a name="Part_I" id="Part_I"></a>Part I</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild</span> lived very far from any town; their house stood
+in the midst of a garden, which in the summer-time was full of fruit
+and sweet flowers. Mr. Fairchild kept only two servants, Betty and
+John: Betty's business was to clean the house, cook the dinner, and
+milk the cow; and John waited at table, worked in the garden, fed the
+pig, and took care of the meadow in which the cow grazed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="frontispiece_text"></a>Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children: Lucy, who was about nine
+years old when these stories began; Emily, who was next in age; and
+Henry, who was between six and seven. These little children did not go
+to school: Mrs. Fairchild taught Lucy and Emily, and Mr. Fairchild
+taught little Henry. Lucy and Emily learned to read, and to do various
+kinds of needlework. Lucy had begun to write, and took great pains with
+her writing; their mother also taught them to sing psalms and hymns,
+and they could sing several very sweetly. Little Henry, too, had a
+great notion of singing.<!-- Page 2 --></p>
+
+<p>Besides working and reading, the little girls could do many useful
+things; they made their beds, rubbed the chairs and tables in their
+rooms, fed the fowls; and when John was busy, they laid the cloth for
+dinner, and were ready to fetch anything which their parents might
+want.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild taught Henry everything that was proper for little boys
+in his station to learn; and when he had finished his lessons in a
+morning, his papa used to take him very often to work in the garden;
+for Mr. Fairchild had great pleasure in helping John to keep the garden
+clean. Henry had a little basket, and he used to carry the weeds and
+rubbish in his basket out of the garden, and do many such other little
+things as he was set to do.</p>
+
+<p>I must not forget to say that Mr. Fairchild had a school for poor boys
+in the next village, and Mrs. Fairchild one for girls. I do not mean
+that they taught the children entirely themselves, but they paid a
+master and mistress to teach them; and they used to take a walk two or
+three times a week to see the children, and to give rewards to those
+who had behaved well. When Lucy and Emily and Henry were obedient,
+their parents were so kind as to let them go with them to see the
+schools; and then they always contrived to have some little thing ready
+to carry with them as presents to the good children.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 3 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Birthday_Walk" id="The_Birthday_Walk"></a>The Birthday Walk</h3>
+
+<a name="image_3"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/3.png" border="0" width="593" height="258" ALT="Good children"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"It</span> is Lucy's birthday," said Mr. Fairchild, as he came into the
+parlour one fine morning in May; "we will go to see John Trueman, and
+take some cake to his little children, and afterwards we will go on to
+visit Nurse, and carry her some tea and sugar."</p>
+
+<p>Nurse was a pious old woman, who had taken care of Lucy when she was a
+baby, and now lived with her son and his wife Joan in a little cottage
+not far distant, called Brookside Cottage, because a clear stream of
+water ran just before the door.</p>
+
+<p>"And shall we stay at Nurse's all day, papa?" said the children.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask your mamma, my dears," said Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"With all my heart," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we will take Betty with
+us to carry our dinner."</p>
+
+<p>So when the children had breakfasted, and Betty was ready, they all set
+out. And first they went down the lane towards John Trueman's cottage.
+There is not a pleasanter lane near any village in England; the hedge
+on each side is of hawthorn, which was then in blossom, and the grass
+was soft under the feet as a velvet cushion; on<!-- Page 4 --> the bank, under the
+hedge, were all manner of sweet flowers, violets, and primroses, and
+the blue vervain.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily and Henry ran gaily along before Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild,
+and Betty came after with the basket. Before they came up to the gate
+of John Trueman's cottage, the children stopped to take the cake out of
+Betty's basket, and to cut shares of it for John's little ones. Whilst
+they were doing this, their father and mother had reached the cottage,
+and were sitting down at the door when they came up.</p>
+
+<p>John Trueman's cottage was a neat little place, standing in a garden,
+adorned with pinks and rosemary and southernwood. John himself was gone
+out to his daily work when Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild came to his house;
+but his wife Mary was at home, and was just giving a crust of bread and
+a bit of cheese to a very poor woman who had stopped at the gate with a
+baby in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mary," said Mr. Fairchild, "I hope it is a sign that you are
+getting rich, as you have bread and cheese to spare."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," she answered, "this poor woman is in want, and my children will
+never miss what I have given her."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very right," answered Mrs. Fairchild; and at the same time she
+slipped a shilling into the poor woman's hand.</p>
+
+<p>John and Mary Trueman had six children: the eldest, Thomas, was working
+in the garden; and little Billy, his youngest brother, who was but
+three years old, was carrying out the weeds as his brother plucked them
+up; Mary, the eldest daughter, was taking care of the baby; and Kitty,
+the second, sat sewing: whilst her brother Charles, a little boy of
+seven years of age, read the Bible aloud to her. They were all neat and
+clean, though dressed in very coarse clothes.
+<!-- Page 5 --><!-- Page 6 --><!-- Page 7 --></p>
+
+<p>When Lucy and Emily and Henry divided the cake amongst the poor
+children, they looked very much pleased; but they said that they would
+not eat any of it till their father came in at night.</p>
+
+<p>"If that is the case," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you shall have a little
+tea and sugar to give your father with your cake;" so she gave them
+some out of the basket.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and their children passed through the village
+they stopped at the schools, and found everything as they could
+wish&mdash;the children all clean, neat, cheerful, and busy, and the master
+and mistress very attentive. They were much pleased to see everything
+in such good order in the schools, and having passed this part of the
+village, they turned aside into a large meadow, through which was the
+path to Nurse's cottage. Many sheep with their lambs were feeding in
+this meadow, and <a name="page_7_text"></a>here also were abundance of primroses, cowslips,
+daisies, and buttercups, and the songs of the birds which were in the
+hedgerows were exceedingly delightful.</p>
+
+<a name="image_5"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/5.png" border="0"
+ width="457" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>They ran on before.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_7a_text">Page 7</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>As soon as the children came in sight of Nurse's little cottage <a name="page_7a_text"></a>they
+ran on before to kiss Nurse, and to tell her that they were come to
+spend the day with her. The poor woman was very glad, because she loved
+Mr. Fairchild's children very dearly; she therefore kissed them, and
+took them to see her little grandson Tommy, who was asleep in the
+cradle. By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and Betty were come up, and
+whilst Betty prepared the dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild sat talking
+with Nurse at the door of the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Betty and Joan laid the cloth upon the fresh grass before the
+cottage-door, and when Joan had boiled some potatoes, Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild sat down to dinner with the children, after which the
+children went to play in the<!-- Page 8 --> meadow by the brookside till it was time
+for them to be going home.</p>
+
+<p>"What a happy day we have had!" said Lucy as she walked home between
+her father and mother. "Everything has gone well with us since we set
+out, and everyone we have seen has been kind and good to us; and the
+weather has been so fine, and everything looks so pretty all around
+us!"</p>
+
+<a name="image_8"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Here were abundance of flowers.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_7_text">Page 7</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/8.png" border="0" width="418" height="348" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 9 -->
+<h3><a name="Mrs_Fairchilds_Story" id="Mrs_Fairchilds_Story"></a>Mrs. Fairchild's Story</h3>
+
+<a name="image_9"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/9.png" border="0" width="575" height="264" ALT="I sat down on one of the branches to eat cherries"></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> next morning, when Lucy and Emily were sitting at work with Mrs.
+Fairchild, Henry came in from his father's study.</p>
+
+<p>"I have finished all my lessons, mamma," he said. "I have made all the
+haste I could because papa said that you would tell us a story to-day;
+and now I am come to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>So Henry placed himself before his mother, and Lucy and Emily
+hearkened, whilst Mrs. Fairchild told her story.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother died," said Mrs. Fairchild, "many years ago, when I was a
+very little child&mdash;so little that I remember nothing more of her than
+being taken to kiss her when she lay sick in bed. Soon afterwards I can
+recollect seeing her funeral procession go out of the garden-gate as I
+stood in the nursery window; and I also remember some days afterwards
+being taken to strew flowers upon her grave in the village churchyard.</p>
+
+<p>"After my mother's death my father sent me to live with my aunts, Mrs.
+Grace and Mrs. Penelope, two old ladies, who, having never been
+married, had no families to take up their attention, and were so kind
+as to undertake<!-- Page 10 --> to bring me up. These old ladies lived near the
+pleasant town of Reading. I fancy I can see the house now, although it
+is many years since I left it. It was a handsome old mansion, for my
+aunts were people of good fortune. In the front of it was a shrubbery,
+neatly laid out with gravel walks, and behind it was a little rising
+ground, where was an arbour, in which my aunts used to drink tea on a
+fine afternoon, and where I often went to play with my doll. My aunts'
+house and garden were very neat; there was not a weed to be seen in the
+gravel walks or among the shrubs, nor anything out of its place in the
+house. My aunts themselves were nice and orderly, and went on from day
+to day in the same manner, and, as far as they knew, they were good
+women; but they knew very little about religion, and what people do not
+understand they cannot practise.</p>
+
+<a name="tn_pg_46"></a><!--TN: Original reads "Mrs Penelope"-->
+<a name="image_11"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/11.png" border="0"
+ width="472" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Mrs. Grace taught me to sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught
+me to read.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_10_text">Page 10</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"I was but a very little girl when I came to live with my aunts, and
+they kept me under their care till I was married. As far as they knew
+what was right, they took great pains with me. <a name="page_10_text"></a>Mrs. Grace taught me to
+sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught me to read. I had a writing-and
+music-master, who came from Reading to teach me twice a week; and I was
+taught all kinds of household work by my aunts' maid. We spent one day
+exactly like another. I was made to rise early, and to dress myself
+very neatly, to breakfast with my aunts. At breakfast I was not allowed
+to speak one word. After breakfast I worked two hours with my Aunt
+Grace, and read an hour with my Aunt Penelope; we then, if it was fine
+weather, took a walk, or, if not, an airing in the coach&mdash;I, and my
+aunts, and little Shock, the lap-dog, together. At dinner I was not
+allowed to speak, and after dinner I attended my masters, or learned my
+tasks. The only time I had to play was while my aunts were dressing to
+go out, for they<!-- Page 11 --><!-- Page 12 --><!-- Page 13 --> went out every evening to play at cards. When they
+went out my supper was given to me, and I was put to bed in a closet in
+my aunts' room.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, although my aunts took so much pains with me in their way, I was
+a very naughty girl; I had no good principles."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by good principles?" asked Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"A person of good principles, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "is one
+who does not do well for fear of the people he lives with, but from the
+fear of God. A child who has good principles will behave just the same
+when his mamma is out of the room as when she is looking at him&mdash;at
+least he will wish to do so; and if he is by his own wicked heart at
+any time tempted to sin, he will be grieved, although no person knows
+his sin. But when I lived with my aunts, if I could escape punishment,
+I did not care what naughty things I did.</p>
+
+<p>"My Aunt Grace was very fond of Shock. She used to give me skim-milk at
+breakfast, but she gave Shock cream; and she often made me carry him
+when I went out a-walking. For this reason I hated him, and when we
+were out of my aunts' hearing I used to pull his tail and his ears and
+make the poor little thing howl sadly. My Aunt Penelope had a large
+tabby cat, which I also hated and used ill. I remember once being sent
+out of the dining-room to carry Shock his dinner, Shock being ill, and
+laid on a cushion in my aunts' bedroom. As I was going upstairs I was
+so unfortunate as to break the plate, which was fine blue china. I
+gathered up the pieces, and running up into the room, set them before
+Shock; after which I fetched the cat and shut her up in the room with
+Shock. When my aunts came up after dinner and found the broken plate,
+they were much surprised, and Mrs. Bridget, the favourite maid, was
+called to beat the cat for<!-- Page 14 --> breaking the plate. I was in my closet and
+heard all that was said, and instead of being sorry, I was glad that
+puss was beaten instead of me.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides those things which I have told you, I did many other naughty
+things. Whenever I was sent into the store-room, where the sugar and
+sweetmeats were kept, I always stole some. I used very often at night,
+when my aunts were gone out, and Mrs. Bridget also (for Mrs. Bridget
+generally went out when her mistress did to see some of her
+acquaintances in the town), to get up and go down into the kitchen,
+where I used to sit upon the housemaid's knee and eat toasted cheese
+and bread sopped in beer. Whenever my aunts found out any of my naughty
+tricks, they used to talk to me of my wickedness, and to tell me that
+if I went on in this manner I certainly should make God very angry.
+When I heard them talk of God's anger I used to be frightened, and
+resolved to do better; but I seldom kept any of my good resolutions.
+From day to day I went on in the same way, getting worse, I think,
+instead of better, until I was twelve years of age.</p>
+
+<p>"One Saturday morning in the middle of summer my aunts called me to
+them and said, 'My dear, we are going from home, and shall not return
+till Monday morning. We cannot take you with us, as we could wish,
+because you have not been invited. Bridget will go with us, therefore
+there will be no person to keep you in order; but we hope, as you are
+not now a little child, that you may be trusted a few days by
+yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then they talked to me of the Commandments of God, and explained them
+to me, and spoke of the very great sin and danger of breaking them; and
+they talked to me till I really felt frightened, and determined that I
+would be good all the while they were from home.<!-- Page 15 --></p>
+
+<p>"When the coach was ready my aunts set out, and I took my books and
+went to sit in the arbour with Shock, who was left under my care. I
+stayed in the arbour till evening, when one of the maid-servants
+brought me my supper. I gave part of it to Shock, and, when I had eaten
+the rest, went to bed. As I lay in my bed I felt very glad that I had
+gone through that evening without doing anything I thought naughty, and
+was sure I should do as well the next day.</p>
+
+<p>"The next morning I was awakened by the bells ringing for church. I got
+up, ate my breakfast, and when I was dressed went with the maid to
+church. When we came home my dinner was given me. All this while I had
+kept my aunts' words pretty well in my memory, but they now began to
+wear a little from my mind. When I had done my dinner I went to play in
+the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Behind the garden, on the hill, was a little field full of
+cherry-trees. Cherries were now quite ripe. My aunts had given me leave
+every day to pick up a few cherries if there were any fallen from the
+trees, but I was not allowed to gather any. Accordingly I went to look
+if there were any cherries fallen. I found a few, and was eating them,
+when I heard somebody call me, 'Miss! Miss!' and, looking up, saw a
+little girl who was employed about the house, in weeding the garden,
+and running errands. My aunts had often forbid me to play or hold any
+discourse with this little girl, which was certainly very proper, as
+the education of the child was very different from that which had been
+given me. I was heedless of this command, and answered her by saying:
+'What are you doing here, Nanny?'</p>
+
+<p>"'There is a ladder, Miss,' she replied, 'against a tree at the upper
+end of the orchard. If you please, I will get up into it and throw you
+down some cherries.'<!-- Page 16 --></p>
+
+<p>"At first I said 'No,' and then I said 'Yes.' So Nanny and I repaired
+to the tree in question, and Nanny mounted into the tree.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Miss! Miss!' said she as soon as she had reached the top of the
+ladder, 'I can see from where I am all the town, and both the churches;
+and here is such plenty of cherries! Do come up! Only just step on the
+ladder, and then you can sit on this bough and eat as many cherries as
+you please.'"</p>
+
+<p>"And did you get into the tree, mamma?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and sat down on one of the
+branches to eat cherries and look about me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma!" said Emily, "suppose your aunts had come home then!"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall hear, my dear," continued Mrs. Fairchild. "My aunts, as I
+thought, and as they expected, were not to come home till the Monday
+morning; but something happened whilst they were out&mdash;I forget
+what&mdash;which obliged them to return sooner than they had expected, and
+they got home just at the time when I was in the cherry-orchard. They
+called for me, but not finding me immediately, they sent the servants
+different ways to look for me. The person who happened to come to look
+for me in the cherry-orchard was Mrs. Bridget, who was the only one of
+the servants who would have told of me. She soon spied me with Nanny in
+the cherry-tree. She made us both come down, and dragged us by the arms
+into the presence of my aunts, who were exceedingly angry; I think I
+never saw them so angry. Nanny was given up to her mother to be
+punished; and I was shut up in a dark room, where I was kept several
+days upon bread and water. At the end of three days my aunts sent for
+me, and talked to me for a long time.<!-- Page 17 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Is it not very strange at your age, niece,' said Mrs. Penelope, 'that
+you cannot be trusted for one day, after all the pains we have taken
+with you, after all we have taught you?'</p>
+
+<p>"'And,' said my Aunt Grace, 'think of the shame and disgrace of
+climbing trees in such low company, after all the care and pains we
+have taken with you, and the delicate manner in which we have reared
+you!'</p>
+
+<p>"In this way they talked to me, whilst I cried very much.</p>
+
+<p>"'Indeed, indeed, Aunt Grace and Aunt Penelope,' I said, 'I did mean to
+behave well when you went out; I made many resolutions, but I broke
+them all; I wished to be good, but I could not be good.'</p>
+
+<p>"When my aunts had talked to me a long time, they forgave me, and I was
+allowed to go about as usual, but I was not happy; I felt that I was
+naughty, and did not know how to make myself good. One afternoon, soon
+after all this had happened, while my aunts and I were drinking tea in
+the parlour, with the window open towards the garden, an old gentleman
+came in at the front gate, whom I had never seen before. He was dressed
+in plain black clothes, exceedingly clean; his gray hair curled about
+his neck, and in his hand he had a strong walking-stick. I was the
+first who saw him, as I was nearest the window, and I called to my
+aunts to look at him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, it is my Cousin Thomas!' cried my Aunt Penelope. 'Who would have
+expected to have seen him here?'</p>
+
+<p>"With that both my aunts ran out to meet him and bring him in. The old
+gentleman was a clergyman, and a near relation of our family, and had
+lived many years upon his living in the North, without seeing any of
+his relations.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have often promised to come and see you, cousins,'<!-- Page 18 --> he said, as
+soon as he was seated, 'but never have been able to bring the matter
+about till now.'</p>
+
+<p>"My aunts told him how glad they were to see him, and presented me to
+him. He received me very kindly, and told me that he remembered my
+mother. The more I saw of this gentleman, the more pleased I was with
+him. He had many entertaining stories to tell; and he spoke of
+everybody in the kindest way possible. He often used to take me out
+with him a-walking, and show me the flowers, and teach me their names.
+One day he went out into the town, and bought a beautiful little Bible
+for me; and when he gave it to me he said: 'Read this, dear child, and
+pray to God to send His Holy Spirit to help you to understand it; and
+it shall be a lamp unto your feet, and a light unto your path.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that verse, mamma," said Lucy; "it is in the Psalms."</p>
+
+<p>"The old gentleman stayed with my aunts two months, and every day he
+used to take me with him to walk in the fields, the woods, and in the
+pleasant meadows on the banks of the Thames. His kind words to me at
+those times I shall never forget; he, with God's blessing, brought me
+to the knowledge of my dear Saviour, and showed me the wickedness of my
+own heart, and made me understand that I never could do any good but
+through the help of God."</p>
+
+<p>"When the good old gentleman was gone, did you behave better than you
+did before he came, mamma?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"After he left us, my dear, I was very different from what I was
+before," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I had learned to know the weakness of my
+heart, and to ask God to help me to be good; and when I had done wrong,
+I knew whose forgiveness to ask; and I do not think that I ever fell
+into those great sins which I had been guilty of before&mdash;such as lying,
+stealing, and deceiving my aunts."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 19 -->
+<h3><a name="On_Envy" id="On_Envy"></a>On Envy</h3>
+
+<a name="image_19"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/19.png" border="0" width="571" height="250" ALT="&quot;How lovely! How beautiful!&quot;"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"Who</span> can go with me to the village this morning," said Mr. Fairchild,
+one winter's day, "to carry this basket of little books to the school?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy cannot go," said Mrs. Fairchild, "because her feet are sore with
+chilblains, and Henry has a bad cold; but Emily can go."</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste, Emily," said Mr. Fairchild, "and put on your thick shoes
+and warm coat, for it is very cold."</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Emily was ready, she set off with her father. It was a very
+cold day, and the ground was quite hard with the frost. Mr. Fairchild
+walked first, and Emily came after him with the little basket. They
+gave the basket to the schoolmaster, and returned. As they were coming
+back, Emily saw something bright upon the ground; and when she stooped
+to pick it up, <a name="page_19_text"></a>she saw that it was a ring set round with little white
+shining stones.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa, papa!" she said, "see what I have found! What a beautiful
+ring!"</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Fairchild looked at it, he was quite surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear," said he, "I think that this is Lady Noble's diamond
+ring; how came it to be lying in this place?"<!-- Page 20 --></p>
+
+<p>Whilst they were looking at the ring they heard the sound of a
+carriage; it was Sir Charles Noble's, and Lady Noble was in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Fairchild!" she called out of the window of the carriage, "I
+am in great trouble; I have lost my diamond ring, and it is of very
+great value. I went to the village this morning in the carriage, and as
+I came back, pulled off my glove to get sixpence out of my purse to
+give to a poor man somewhere in this lane, and I suppose that my ring
+dropped off at the time. I don't know what I shall do; Sir Charles will
+be sadly vexed."</p>
+
+<p>"Make yourself quite happy, madam," said Mr. Fairchild, "here is your
+ring; Emily just this moment picked it up."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Noble was exceedingly glad when she received back her ring. She
+thanked Emily twenty times, and said, "I think I have something in the
+carriage which you will like very much, Miss Emily; it is just come
+from London, and was intended for my daughter Augusta; but I will send
+for another for her."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she presented Emily with a new doll packed up in paper, and
+with it a little trunk, with a lock and key, full of clothes for the
+doll. Emily was so delighted that she almost forgot to thank Lady
+Noble; but Mr. Fairchild, who was not quite so much overjoyed as his
+daughter, remembered to return thanks for this pretty present.</p>
+
+<p>So Lady Noble put the ring on her finger, and ordered the coachman to
+drive home.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa, papa!" said Emily, "how beautiful this doll is! I have just
+torn the paper a bit, and I can see its face; it has blue eyes and red
+lips, and hair like Henry's. Oh, how beautiful! Please, papa, to carry
+the box for me; I cannot carry both the box and the doll. Oh, this
+beautiful doll! this lovely doll!" So she went on talking<!-- Page 21 --> till they
+reached home; then she ran before her papa to her mamma and sister and
+brother, and, taking the paper off the doll, cried out: "How beautiful!
+Oh, what pretty hands! What nice feet! What blue eyes! How lovely! how
+beautiful!"</p>
+
+<p>Her mother asked her several times where she had got this pretty doll;
+but Emily was too busy to answer her. When Mr. Fairchild came in with
+the trunk of clothes, he told all the story; how that Lady Noble had
+given Emily the doll for finding her diamond ring.</p>
+
+<p>When Emily had unpacked the doll, she opened the box, which was full of
+as pretty doll's things as ever you saw.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Emily was examining all these things, Henry stood by admiring
+them and turning them about; but Lucy, after having once looked at the
+doll without touching it, went to a corner of the room, and sat down in
+her little chair without speaking a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Lucy," said Emily, "help me to dress my doll."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you dress it yourself?" answered Lucy, taking up a little book,
+and pretending to read.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Lucy," said Henry, "you never saw so beautiful a doll before."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tease me, Henry," said Lucy; "don't you see I am reading?"</p>
+
+<p>"Put up your book now, Lucy," said Emily, "and come and help me to
+dress this sweet little doll. I will be its mamma, and you shall be its
+nurse, and it shall sleep between us in our bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want dolls in my bed," said Lucy; "don't tease me, Emily."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Henry shall be its nurse," said Emily. "Come, Henry, we will go
+into our play-room, and put this pretty<!-- Page 22 --> doll to sleep. Will not you
+come, Lucy? Pray do come; we want you very much."</p>
+
+<p>"Do let me alone," answered Lucy; "I want to read."</p>
+
+<p>So Henry and Emily went to play, and Lucy sat still in the corner of
+the parlour. After a few minutes her mamma, who was at work by the
+fire, looked at her, and saw that she was crying; the tears ran down
+her cheeks, and fell upon her book. Then Mrs. Fairchild called Lucy to
+her, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, you are crying; can you tell me what makes you
+unhappy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, mamma," answered Lucy; "I am not unhappy."</p>
+
+<p>"People do not cry when they are pleased and happy, my dear," said Mrs.
+Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy stood silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I am your mother, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "and I love you very
+much; if anything vexes you, whom should you tell it to but to your own
+mother?" Then Mrs. Fairchild kissed her, and put her arms round her.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy began to cry more.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, mamma! dear mamma!" she said, "I don't know what vexes me,
+or why I have been crying."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you speaking the truth?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "Do not hide
+anything from me. Is there anything in your heart, my dear child, do
+you think, which makes you unhappy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, mamma," said Lucy, "I think there is. I am sorry that Emily
+has got that pretty doll. Pray do not hate me for it, mamma; I know it
+is wicked in me to be sorry that Emily is happy, but I feel that I
+cannot help it."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, "I am glad you<!-- Page 23 --> have confessed
+the truth to me. Now I will tell you why you feel so unhappy, and I
+will tell you where to seek a cure. The naughty passion you now feel,
+my dear, is what is called Envy. Envy makes persons unhappy when they
+see others happier or better than themselves. Envy is in every man's
+heart by nature. Some people can hide it more than others, and others
+have been enabled, by God's grace, to overcome it in a great degree;
+but, as I said before, it is in the natural heart of all mankind.
+Little children feel envious about dolls and playthings, and men and
+women feel envious about greater things."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ever feel envious, mamma?" said Lucy. "I never saw you unhappy
+because other people had better things than you had."</p>
+
+<p>"My heart, my dear child," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "is no better than
+yours. There was a time when I was very envious. When I was first
+married I had no children for seven or eight years; I wished very much
+to have a baby, as you wished just now for Emily's doll; and whenever I
+saw a woman with a pretty baby in her arms, I was ready to cry for
+vexation."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ever feel any envy now, mamma?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say that I never feel it, my dear; but I bless God that this
+wicked passion has not the power over me which it used to have."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, mamma!" said Lucy, "how unhappy wickedness makes us! I have
+been very miserable this morning; and what for? only because of the
+naughtiness of my heart, for I have had nothing else to make me
+miserable."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Fairchild took Lucy by the hand, and went into her closet,
+where they prayed that the Holy Spirit would take the wicked passion of
+envy out of Lucy's heart. And as they prayed in the name of the Lord
+Jesus Christ,<!-- Page 24 --> who died upon the cross to deliver us from the power of
+sin, they did not doubt but that God would hear their prayer; and
+indeed He did, for from that day Lucy never felt envious of Emily's
+doll, but helped Emily to take care of it and make its clothes, and was
+happy to have it laid on her bed betwixt herself and sister.</p>
+
+<a name="tn_pg_60"></a><!--TN: Added period after "19"-->
+<a name="image_24"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>She saw that it was a ring.</i>"&mdash;&mdash;<a href="#page_19_text">Page 19</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/24.png" border="0" width="457" height="374" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 25 -->
+<h3><a name="Story_of_the_Apples" id="Story_of_the_Apples"></a>Story of the Apples</h3>
+
+<a name="image_25"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/25.png" border="0" width="570" height="261" ALT="Henry stood under the apple-tree"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Just</span> opposite Mr. Fairchild's parlour window was a young apple-tree,
+which had never yet brought forth any fruit; at length it produced two
+blossoms, from which came two apples. As these apples grew they became
+very beautiful, and promised to be very fine fruit.</p>
+
+<p>"I desire," said Mr. Fairchild, one morning, to his children, "that
+none of you touch the apples on that young tree, for I wish to see what
+kind of fruit they will be when they are quite ripe."</p>
+
+<p>That same evening, as Henry and his sisters were playing in the parlour
+window, Henry said:</p>
+
+<p>"Those are beautiful apples indeed that are upon that tree."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not look upon them, Henry," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, Lucy?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Because papa has forbidden us to meddle with them."</p>
+
+<p><i>Henry.</i> "Well, I am not going to meddle with them; I am only looking
+at them."</p>
+
+<p><i>Lucy.</i> "Oh! but if you look much at them, you will begin to wish for
+them, and may be tempted to take them at last."<!-- Page 26 --></p>
+
+<p><i>Henry.</i> "How can you think of any such thing, Lucy? Do you take me for
+a thief?"</p>
+
+<p>The next evening the children were playing again in the parlour window.
+Henry said to his sister, "I dare say that those beautiful apples will
+taste very good when papa gathers them."</p>
+
+<p>"There, now, Henry!" said Lucy; "I told you that the next thing would
+be wishing for those apples. Why do you look at them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and if I do wish for them, is there any harm in that," answered
+Henry, "if I do not touch them?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Lucy.</i> "Oh! but now you have set your heart upon them, the devil may
+tempt you to take one of them, as he tempted Eve to eat the forbidden
+fruit. You should not have looked at them, Henry."</p>
+
+<p><i>Henry.</i> "Oh, I shan't touch the apples! Don't be afraid."</p>
+
+<a name="image_27"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/27.png" border="0"
+ width="465" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>There was one he could just reach.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_26a_text">Page 26</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Now Henry did not mean to steal the apples, it is true; but when people
+give way to sinful desires, their passions get so much power over them
+that they cannot say, "I will sin so far, and no further." That night,
+whenever Henry awoke, he thought of the beautiful apples. He got up
+before his parents, or his sisters, and went down into the garden.
+There was nobody up but John, who was in the stable. Henry went and
+stood under the apple-tree. He looked at the apples; <a name="page_26a_text"></a>there was one
+which he could just reach as he stood on his tip-toe. He stretched out
+his hand and plucked it from the tree, and ran with it, as he thought,
+out of sight <a name="page_26_text"></a>behind the stable. Having eaten it in haste, he returned
+to the house.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Fairchild got up, he went into the garden and looked at the
+apple-tree, and saw that one of the apples was missing; he looked round
+the tree to see if it had fallen down, and he perceived the mark of a
+child's<!-- Page 27 --><!-- Page 28 --><!-- Page 29 --> foot under the tree. He came into the house in great haste,
+and looking angrily, "Which of you young ones," said he, "has gathered
+the apple from the young apple-tree? Last night there were two upon the
+tree, and now there is only one."</p>
+
+<p>The children made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have, any of you, taken the apple, and will tell me the truth,
+I will forgive you," said Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not take it, indeed, papa," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"And I did not take it," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not&mdash;indeed I did not," said Henry; but Henry looked very red
+when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mr. Fairchild, "I must call in John, and ask him if he can
+tell who took the apple. But before John is called in, I tell you once
+more, my dear children, that if any of you took the apple and will
+confess it, even now I will freely forgive you."</p>
+
+<p>Henry now wished to tell his father the truth; but he was ashamed to
+own his wickedness, and he hoped that it would never be found out that
+he was the thief.</p>
+
+<p>When John came in, Mr. Fairchild said:</p>
+
+<p>"John, there is one of the apples taken from the young apple-tree
+opposite the parlour window."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said John, "I did not take it, but I think I can guess which way
+it went." Then John looked very hard at Henry, and Henry trembled and
+shook all over. "I saw Master Henry this morning run behind the stable
+with a large apple in his hand, and he stayed there till he had eaten
+it, and then he came out."</p>
+
+<p>"Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "is this true? Are you a thief&mdash;and a
+liar, too?" And Mr. Fairchild's voice was very terrible when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Then Henry fell down upon his knees and confessed his wickedness.<!-- Page 30 --></p>
+
+<p>"Go from my sight, bad boy!" said Mr. Fairchild; "if you had told the
+truth at first, I should have forgiven you, but now I will not forgive
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Fairchild ordered John to take Henry, and lock him up in a
+little room at the top of the house, where he could not speak to any
+person. Poor Henry cried sadly, and Lucy and Emily cried too; but Mr.
+Fairchild would not excuse Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"It is better," he said, "that he should be punished in this world
+whilst he is a little boy than grow up to be a liar and a thief."</p>
+
+<p>So poor Henry was locked up by himself in a little room at the very top
+of the house. He sat down on a small box and cried sadly. He hoped that
+his mother and father would have sent him some breakfast; but they did
+not. At twelve o'clock he looked out of the window and saw his mother
+and sisters walking in the meadows at a little distance, and he saw his
+father come and fetch them in to dinner, as he supposed; and then he
+hoped that he should have some dinner sent him; but no dinner came.
+Some time after he saw Betty go down into the meadow to milk the cow;
+then he knew that it was five o'clock, and that it would soon be night;
+then he began to cry again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I am afraid," he said, "that papa will make me stay here all
+night! and I shall be alone, for God will not take care of me because
+of my wickedness."</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards Henry saw the sun go down behind the hills, and he
+heard the rooks as they were going to rest in their nests at the top of
+some tall trees near the house. Soon afterwards it became dusk, and
+then quite dark. "Oh! dear, dear," said Henry, when he found himself
+sitting alone in the dark, "what a wicked boy I have been to-day! I
+stole an apple, and told two or three lies about it! I have made my
+papa and mamma unhappy, and my<!-- Page 31 --> poor sisters, too! How could I do such
+things? And now I must spend all this night in this dismal place; and
+God will not take care of me because I am so naughty."</p>
+
+<p>Then Henry cried very sadly indeed. After which he knelt down and
+prayed that God would forgive him, till he found himself getting more
+happy in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>When he got up from his prayer he heard the step of someone coming
+upstairs; he thought it was his mother, and his little heart was very
+glad indeed. Henry was right: it was indeed his mother come to see her
+poor little boy. He soon heard her unlock the door, and in a moment he
+ran into her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Henry sorry for his naughtiness?" said Mrs. Fairchild, as she sat
+down and took him upon her lap. "Are you sorry, my dear child, for your
+very great naughtiness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed I am!" said Henry, sobbing and crying; "I am very sorry,
+pray forgive me. I have asked God to forgive me; and I think that He
+has heard my prayer, for I feel happier than I did."</p>
+
+<p>"But have you thought, Henry, of the great wrong which you have done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma, I have been thinking of it a great deal; I know that what
+I did this morning was a very great sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say this morning?" said Mrs. Fairchild; "the sin that you
+committed was the work of several days."</p>
+
+<p>"How, mamma?" said Henry; "I was not two minutes stealing the apple,
+and papa found it out before breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that sin was the work of many
+days." Henry listened to his mother, and she went on speaking: "Do you
+remember those little chickens which came out of the eggs in the hen's
+nest last Monday morning?"<!-- Page 32 --></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that they were made the moment
+before they came out?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, mamma," said Henry; "papa said they were growing in the egg-shell
+a long time before they came out alive."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Fairchild.</i> "In the same manner the great sin you committed this
+morning was growing in your heart some days before it came out."</p>
+
+<p>"How, mamma?" said Henry. "I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Fairchild.</i> "All wrong things which we do are first formed in our
+hearts; and sometimes our sins are very long before they come to their
+full growth. The great sin you committed this morning began to be
+formed in your heart three days ago. Do you remember that that very day
+in which your father forbade you to touch the apples, you stood in the
+parlour window and looked at them, and you admired their beautiful
+appearance? This was the beginning of your sin. Your sister Lucy told
+you at the time not to look at them, and she did well; for by looking
+at forbidden things we are led to desire them, and when we desire them
+very much we proceed to take them. Your father forbade you to touch
+these apples; therefore, my dear child, you ought not to have allowed
+yourself to think of them for one moment. When you first thought about
+them, you did not suppose that this thought would end in so very great
+a sin as you have now been guilty of."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma," said Henry, "I will try to remember what you have said to
+me all my life."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild kissed little Henry then, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, my child, and give you a holy heart, which may never
+think or design any evil."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild then led Henry down into the parlour, where <a name="tn_pg_68"></a><!-- TN:
+Period added to "Mr"-->Mr. Fairchild and Lucy and Emily were waiting<!-- Page 33 -->
+for them to go to tea. Mr. Fairchild kissed his little boy, and Lucy
+and Emily smiled to see him.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "you have had a sad day of it; but I did
+not punish you, my child, because I do not love you, but because I do."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Fairchild cut a large piece of bread-and-butter for Henry,
+which he was very glad of, for he was very hungry.</p>
+
+<a name="image_33"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Behind the stable.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_26_text">Page 26</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/33.png" border="0" width="372" height="408" ALT=""></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 34 -->
+<h3><a name="Story_of_an_Unhappy_Day" id="Story_of_an_Unhappy_Day"></a>Story of an Unhappy Day</h3>
+
+<a name="image_34"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/34.png" border="0" width="543" height="223" ALT="Lucy and Emily"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> happened that Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had had nothing for a long time
+to interrupt them in the care and management of their children; so that
+they had had it in their power to teach them and guard them from all
+evil influences. I will tell you exactly how they lived and spent their
+time; Emily and Lucy slept together in a little closet on one side of
+their mother and father's room; and Henry had a little room on the
+other side, where he slept. As soon as the children got up, they used
+to go into their father and mother's room to prayers; after which Henry
+went with Mr. Fairchild into the garden, whilst Lucy and Emily made
+their beds and rubbed the furniture; afterwards they all met at
+breakfast, dressed neatly but very plain. At breakfast the children ate
+what their mother gave them, and seldom spoke till they were spoken to.
+After breakfast Betty and John were called in and all went to prayers.
+Then Henry went into his father's study to his lessons; and Lucy and
+Emily stayed with their mother, working and reading till twelve
+o'clock, when they used to go out to take a walk all together;
+sometimes they went to the schools, and sometimes they went to see a
+poor<!-- Page 35 --> person. When they came in, dinner was ready. After dinner the
+little girls and Mrs. Fairchild worked, whilst Henry read to them, till
+tea-time; and after tea Lucy and Emily played with their doll and
+worked for it, and Henry busied himself in making some little things of
+wood, which his father showed him how to do. And so they spent their
+time, till Betty and John came in to evening prayers; then the children
+had each of them a baked apple and went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Now all this time the little ones were in the presence of their father
+and mother, and kept carefully from doing openly naughty things by the
+watchful eyes of their dear parents. One day it happened, when they had
+been living a long time in this happy way, that Lucy said to Mrs.
+Fairchild, "Mamma, I think that Emily and Henry and I are much better
+children than we used to be; we have not been punished for a very long
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "do not boast or think well of
+yourself; it is always a bad sign when people boast of themselves. If
+you have not done any very naughty thing lately, it is not because
+there is any goodness or wisdom in you, but because your papa and I
+have been always with you, carefully watching and guiding you from
+morning till night."</p>
+
+<p>That same evening a letter came for Mr. Fairchild, from an old lady who
+lived about four miles off, begging that he and Mrs. Fairchild would
+come over, if it was convenient, to see her the next day to settle some
+business of consequence. This old lady's name was Mrs. Goodriche, and
+she lived in a very neat little house just under a hill, with Sukey her
+maid. It was the very house in which Mrs. Howard lived about fifty
+years ago, as we shall hear later on.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Fairchild got the letter he ordered John to<!-- Page 36 --> get the horse
+ready by daybreak next morning, and to put the pillion on it for Mrs.
+Fairchild; so Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild got up very early, and when they
+had kissed their children, who were still asleep, they set off.</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened, very unluckily, that Mrs. Fairchild, at this time, had
+given Betty leave to go for two or three days to see her father, and
+she was not yet returned; so there was nobody left in the house to take
+care of the children but John. And now I will tell you how these
+children spent the day whilst their father and mother were out.</p>
+
+<p>When Lucy and Emily awoke, they began playing in their beds. Emily made
+babies of the pillows, and Lucy pulled off the sheets and tied them
+round her, in imitation of Lady Noble's long-trained gown; and thus
+they spent their time till Henry came to the door to tell them that
+breakfast was ready.</p>
+
+<p>"And I have persuaded John," said Henry, "to make us toast and butter;
+and it looks so nice! Make haste and come down; do, sisters, do!" And
+he continued to drum upon the door with a stick until his sisters were
+dressed.</p>
+
+<p>Emily and Lucy put on their clothes as quickly as they could and went
+downstairs with their brother, without praying, washing themselves,
+combing their hair, making their bed, or doing any one thing they ought
+to have done.</p>
+
+<p>John had, indeed, made a large quantity of toast and butter; but the
+children were not satisfied with what John had made, for when they had
+eaten all that he had provided, yet they would toast more themselves,
+and put butter on it before the fire as they had seen Betty do; so the
+hearth was covered with crumbs and grease, and they wasted almost as
+much as they ate.<!-- Page 37 --><!-- Page 38 --><!-- Page 39 --></p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, they took out their books to learn their lessons; but
+they had eaten so much that they could not learn with any pleasure; and
+Lucy, who thought she would be very clever, began to scold Henry and
+Emily for their idleness; and Henry and Emily, in their turn, found
+fault with her; so that they began to dispute, and would soon, I fear,
+have proceeded to something worse if Henry had not spied a little pig
+in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sisters," said he, "there is a pig in the garden, in the
+flower-bed! Look! look! And what mischief it will do! Papa will be very
+angry. Come, sisters, let us hunt it out."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, down went Henry's book, and <a name="page_39_text"></a>away he ran into the garden,
+followed by Emily and Lucy, running as fast as they could. They soon
+drove the pig out of the garden, and it would have been well if they
+had stopped there; but, instead of that, they followed it down into the
+lane. Now, there was a place where a spring ran across the lane, over
+which was a narrow bridge for the use of people that way. Now the pig
+did not stand to look for the bridge, but went splash, splash, through
+the midst of the water: and after him went Henry, Lucy, and Emily,
+though they were up to their knees in mud and dirt.</p>
+
+<a name="image_37"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/37.png" border="0"
+ width="461" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Away he ran into the garden, followed by Lucy and
+Emily.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_39_text">Page 39</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>In this dirty condition they ran on till they came close to a house
+where a farmer and his wife lived whose name was Freeman. These people
+were not such as lived in the fear of God, neither did they bring up
+their children well; on which account Mr. Fairchild had often forbidden
+Lucy and Emily and Henry to go to their house. However, when the
+children were opposite this house, Mrs. Freeman saw them through the
+kitchen window; and seeing they were covered with mud, she came out and
+brought them in, and dried their clothes by the fire; which<!-- Page 40 --> was, so
+far, very kind of her, only the children should not have gone into the
+house, as they had been so often forbidden by their parents.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Freeman would have had them stay all day and play with their
+children; and Henry and his sisters would have been very glad to have
+accepted her invitation, but they were afraid: so Mrs. Freeman let them
+go; but, before they went, she gave them each a large piece of cake,
+and something sweet to drink, which she said would do them good. Now
+this sweet stuff was cider; and as they were never used to drink
+anything but water, it made them quite giddy for a little while; so
+that when they got back into the lane, first one tumbled down, and then
+another; and their faces became flushed, and their heads began to ache,
+so that they were forced to sit down for a time under a tree, on the
+side of the lane, and there they were when John came to find them; for
+John, who was in the stable when they ran out of the garden, was much
+frightened when he returned to the house, and could not find them
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you naughty children!" said he, when he found them, "you have
+almost frightened me out of my life! Where have you been?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have been in the lane," said Lucy, blushing.</p>
+
+<p>This was not all the truth; but one fault always leads to another.</p>
+
+<p>So John brought them home, and locked them up in their play-room,
+whilst he got their dinner ready.</p>
+
+<p>When the children found themselves shut up in their play-room, and
+could not get out, they sat themselves down, and began to think how
+naughty they had been. They were silent for a few minutes; at last Lucy
+spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Henry! oh, Emily! how naughty we have been! And yet I thought I
+would be so good when papa and<!-- Page 41 --> mamma went out; so very good! What
+shall we say when papa and mamma come home?"</p>
+
+<p>Then all the children began to cry. At length Henry said:</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what we will do, Lucy; we will be good all the evening;
+we will not do one naughty thing."</p>
+
+<p>"So we will, Henry," said Emily. "When John lets us out, how good we
+will be! and then we can tell the truth, that we were naughty in the
+morning, but we were good all the evening."</p>
+
+<p>John made some nice apple-dumplings for the children, and when they
+were ready, and he had put some butter and sugar upon them (for John
+was a good-natured man), he fetched the children down; and after they
+had each ate as much apple-dumpling as he thought proper, he told them
+they might play in the barn, bidding them not to stir out of it till
+supper-time.</p>
+
+<p>Henry and Lucy and Emily were delighted with this permission; and, as
+Lucy ran along to the barn with her brother and sister, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Now let us be very good. We are not to do anything naughty all this
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"We will be very good indeed," answered Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Better than we ever were in all our lives," added Henry.</p>
+
+<p>So they all went into the barn, and when John fastened them in he said
+to himself, "Sure they will be safe now, till I have looked to the pigs
+and milked the cow; for there is nothing in the barn but straw and hay,
+and they cannot hurt themselves with that, sure."</p>
+
+<p>But John was mistaken. As soon as he was gone, Henry spied a swing,
+which Mr. Fairchild had made in the barn for the children, but which he
+never allowed them to use when he was not with them, because swings are
+very dangerous things, unless there are very careful persons to<!-- Page 42 --> use
+them. The seat of the swing was tied up to the side of the barn, above
+the children's reach, as Mr. Fairchild thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lucy!" said Henry, "there is the swing. There can be no harm in
+our swinging a little. If papa was here, I am sure he would let us
+swing. If you and Emily will help to lift me up, I will untie it and
+let it down, and then we will swing so nicely."</p>
+
+<p>So Emily and Lucy lifted Henry up, and he untied the swing, and let it
+down into its right place; but as he was getting down, his coat caught
+upon a bit of wood on the side of the barn, and was much torn. However,
+the children did not trouble themselves very much about this accident.
+First Emily got into the swing, then Henry, then Lucy; and then Emily
+would get in again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Lucy," she said, "swing me high, and I will shut my eyes; you
+can't think how pleasant it is to swing with one's eyes shut. Swing me
+higher! swing me higher!"</p>
+
+<p>So she went on calling to Lucy, and Lucy trying to swing her higher and
+higher, till at last the swing turned, and down came Emily to the
+floor. There happened providentially to be some straw on the floor, or
+she would have been killed. As it was, however, she was sadly hurt; she
+lay for some minutes without speaking, and her mouth and nose poured
+out blood.</p>
+
+<p>Henry and Lucy thought she was dead; and, oh! how frightened they were!
+They screamed so violently that John came running to see what was the
+matter; and, poor man! he was sadly frightened when he saw Emily lying
+on the floor covered with blood. He lifted her up and brought her into
+the house; he saw she was not dead, but he did not know how much she
+might be hurt. When he had washed her face from the blood, and given
+her a little water to drink, she recovered a little; but her nose and
+one<!-- Page 43 --> eye, and her lip, were terribly swelled, and two of her teeth were
+out.</p>
+
+<p>When Emily was a little recovered, John placed her in a little chair by
+the kitchen fire, and he took his blue pocket-handkerchief and tied
+Lucy and Henry to the kitchen-table, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"You unlucky rogues! you have given me trouble enough to-day&mdash;that you
+have. I will not let you go out of my sight again till master and
+mistress come home. Thank God you have not killed your sister! Who
+would have thought of your loosing the swing!"</p>
+
+<p>In this manner Henry and Lucy and Emily remained till it was nearly
+dark, and then they heard the sound of the horse's feet coming up to
+the kitchen door, for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come. John hastened
+to untie the children, who trembled from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, John, John! what shall we do&mdash;what shall we say?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"The truth, the truth, and all the truth," said John; "it is the best
+thing you can do now."</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild came in, they thought their children would
+have run to meet them; but they were so conscious of their naughtiness
+that they all crept behind John, and Emily hid her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Emily, Lucy, Henry!" said Mrs. Fairchild, "you keep back; what is the
+matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa!" said Lucy, coming forward, "we have
+been very wicked children to-day; we are not fit to come near you."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done, Lucy?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "Tell us the whole
+truth."</p>
+
+<p>Then Lucy told her parents everything which she and her brother and
+sister had done; she did not hide anything from them. You may be sure
+that Mr. and Mrs.<!-- Page 44 --> Fairchild were very much shocked. When they heard
+all that Lucy had to tell them, and saw Emily's face, they looked very
+grave indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad that you have told the truth, my children," said Mr.
+Fairchild; "but the faults that you have committed are very serious
+ones. You have disobeyed your parents; and, in consequence of your
+disobedience, Emily might have lost her life, if God had not been very
+merciful to you. And now go all of you to your beds."</p>
+
+<p>The children did as their father bade them, and went silently up to
+their beds, where they cried sadly, thinking upon their naughtiness.
+The next morning they all three came into their mother's room, and
+begged her to kiss them and forgive them.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot refuse to pardon you, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild;
+"but, indeed, you made me and your father very unhappy last night."</p>
+
+<p>Then the children looked at their mother's eyes, and they were full of
+tears; and they felt more and more sorry to think how greatly they had
+grieved their kind mother; and when Mrs. Fairchild kissed them, and put
+her arms round their necks, they cried more than ever.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 45 -->
+<h3><a name="Story_of_Ambition_or_The_Wish_to_be_Great" id="Story_of_Ambition_or_The_Wish_to_be_Great"></a>Story of Ambition; or, The Wish to be Great</h3>
+
+<a name="image_45"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/45.png" border="0" width="566" height="316" ALT="They went along the great gallery"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Twice</span> every year Sir Charles and Lady Noble used to invite Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild and their children to spend a day with them at their house.
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild did not much like to go, because Sir Charles and
+his lady were very proud, and their children were not brought up in the
+fear of God; yet, as the visit only happened twice a year, Mr.
+Fairchild thought it better to go than to have a quarrel with his
+neighbour. Mrs. Fairchild always had two plain muslin frocks, with
+white mittens and neat black shoes, for Lucy and Emily to wear when
+they went to see Lady Noble. As Mr. Fairchild's house was as much as
+two miles distance from Sir Charles Noble's, Sir Charles always used to
+send his carriage for them, and to bring them back again at night.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, just at breakfast-time, Mr. Fairchild came into the
+parlour, saying to Mrs. Fairchild:</p>
+
+<p>"Here, my dear, is a note from Sir Charles Noble, inviting us to spend
+the day to-morrow, and the children."<!-- Page 46 --></p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "as Sir Charles Noble has been so
+kind as to ask us, we must not offend him by refusing to go."</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Mr. Fairchild desired his wife and children to be
+ready at twelve o'clock, which was the time fixed for the coach to be
+at Mr. Fairchild's door. Accordingly, soon after eleven, Mrs. Fairchild
+dressed Lucy and Emily, and made them sit quietly down till the
+carriage came. As Lucy and Emily sat in the corner of the room, Lucy
+looked at Emily, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Sister, how pretty you look!"</p>
+
+<p>"And how nice you look, Lucy!" said Emily. "These frocks are very
+pretty, and make us look very well."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear little girls," said Mrs. Fairchild, who overheard what they
+said to each other, "do not be conceited because you have got your best
+frocks on. You now think well of yourselves, because you fancy you are
+well dressed; by-and-by, when you get to Lady Noble's, you will find
+Miss Augusta much finer dressed than yourselves; then you will be out
+of humour with yourselves for as little reason as you now are pleased."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Henry came in his Sunday coat to tell his mother that
+Sir Charles Noble's carriage was come. Mrs. Fairchild was quite ready;
+and Lucy and Emily were in such a hurry that Emily had nearly tumbled
+downstairs over her sister, and Lucy was upon the point of slipping
+down on the step of the hall-door; however, they all got into the coach
+without any accident, and the coachman drove away, and that so rapidly
+that they soon came in sight of Sir Charles Noble's house.</p>
+
+<p>As it is not likely that you ever saw Sir Charles Noble's house, I will
+give you some account of it. It is a very large house, built of smooth
+white stone; it stands in a fine park, or green lawn, scattered over
+with tall trees and<!-- Page 47 --> shrubs; but there were no leaves on the trees at
+the time I am speaking of, because it was winter.</p>
+
+<p>When the carriage drove up to the hall-door, a smart footman came out,
+opened the carriage-door, and showed Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild through a
+great many rooms into a grand parlour, where Lady Noble was sitting
+upon a sofa, by a large fire, with several other ladies, all of whom
+were handsomely dressed. Now, as I told you before, Lady Noble was a
+proud woman; so she did not take much notice of Mrs. Fairchild when she
+came in, although she ordered the servants to set a chair for her. Miss
+Augusta Noble was seated on the sofa by her mamma, playing with a very
+beautiful wax doll; and her two brothers, William and Edward, were
+standing by her; but they never came forward to Mrs. Fairchild's
+children to say that they were glad to see them, or to show them any
+kind of civility. If children knew how disagreeable they make
+themselves when they are rude and ill-behaved, surely they would never
+be so, but would strive to be civil and courteous to everyone.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after Mrs. Fairchild was seated, a servant came to say that Miss
+Noble's and Master William's and Master Edward's dinners were ready.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, Augusta," said Lady Noble, "to your dinner, and take Master and
+Misses Fairchild with you; and, after you have dined, show them your
+playthings and your baby-house."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Augusta got up, and, as she passed by Emily and Lucy, she said in
+a very haughty way, "Mamma says you must come with me."</p>
+
+<p>So Emily and Lucy followed Miss Augusta, and the little boys came after
+them. She went up a pair of grand stairs, and along a very long gallery
+full of pictures, till they came to a large room, where Miss Augusta's
+governess<!-- Page 48 --> was sitting at work, and the children's dinner set out in
+great order. In one corner of the room was the baby-house. Besides the
+baby-house, there was a number of other toys&mdash;a large rocking-horse, a
+cradle with a big wooden doll lying in it, and tops, and carts, and
+coaches, and whips, and trumpets in abundance.</p>
+
+<p>"Here are Mrs. Fairchild's children come to dine with me, ma'am," said
+Miss Augusta, as she opened the door; "this is Lucy, and this is Emily,
+and that is Henry."</p>
+
+<p>The governess did not take much notice of Mrs. Fairchild's children,
+but said, "Miss Augusta, I wish you would shut the door after you, for
+it is very cold."</p>
+
+<p>I do not know whether Miss Augusta heard her governess, but she never
+offered to go back to shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>The governess, whose name was Beaumont, then called to Master Edward,
+who was just coming in, to shut the door after him.</p>
+
+<p>"You may shut it yourself, if you want it shut," answered the rude boy.</p>
+
+<p>When Lucy heard this she immediately ran and shut the door, upon which
+Miss Beaumont looked more civilly at her than she had done before, and
+thanked her for her attention.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Lucy was shutting the door, Miss Augusta began to stir the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Augusta," said the lady, "has not your mamma often forbidden you
+to touch the fire? Some day you will set your frock on fire."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Augusta did not heed what her governess said this time any more
+than the last, but went on raking the fire; till at length Miss
+Beaumont, fearing some mischief, forced the poker out of her hand. Miss
+Augusta looked very much displeased, and was going to make a pert
+answer, when her mother and the other ladies came into the room to<!-- Page 49 --> see
+the children dine. The young ones immediately seated themselves quietly
+at the table to eat their dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Are my children well behaved?" said Lady Noble, speaking to the
+governess. "I thought I heard you finding fault with Augusta when I
+came in."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, ma'am," said the governess; "Miss Augusta is a good young
+lady; I seldom have reason to find fault with her."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily looked at Miss Beaumont, and wondered to hear her say
+that Miss Augusta was good, but they were silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I am happy to say," said Lady Noble, speaking to Mrs. Fairchild, "that
+mine are promising children. Augusta has a good heart."</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment a servant came in, and set a plate of apples on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Beaumont," said Lady Noble, "take care that Augusta does not eat
+above one apple; you know that she was unwell yesterday from eating too
+many."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Beaumont assured Lady Noble that she would attend to her wishes,
+and the ladies left the room. When they were gone the governess gave
+two apples to each of the children, excepting Augusta, to whom she gave
+only one. The rest of the apples she took out of the plate, and put in
+her work-bag for her own eating.</p>
+
+<p>When everyone had done dinner and the table-cloth was taken away, Lady
+Noble's children got up and left the table, and Henry and Emily were
+following, but Lucy whispered to them to say grace. Accordingly they
+stood still by the table, and, putting their hands together, they said
+the grace which they had been used to say after dinner at home.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing?" said Augusta.</p>
+
+<p>"We are saying grace," answered Lucy.<!-- Page 50 --></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I forgot," said Augusta; "your mamma is religious, and makes you
+do all these things. How tiresome it must be! And where's the use of
+it? It will be time enough to be religious, you know, when we get old,
+and expect to die."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but," said little Henry, "perhaps we may never live to be old;
+many children die younger than we are."</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Henry was speaking, William and Edward stood listening to him
+with their mouths wide open, and when he had finished his speech they
+broke out into a fit of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"When our parson dies, you shall be parson, Henry," said Edward; "but
+I'll never go to church when you preach."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he shan't be parson&mdash;he shall be clerk," said William; "then he
+will have all the graves to dig."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what," said Henry: "your mamma was never worse out in
+her life than when she said hers were good children."</p>
+
+<p>"Take that for your sauciness, you little beggar!" said Master William,
+giving Henry a blow on the side of the head; and he would have given
+him several more had not Lucy and Emily run in between.</p>
+
+<p>"If you fight in this room, boys, I shall tell my mamma," said Miss
+Augusta. "Come, go downstairs; we don't want you here. Go and feed your
+dogs."</p>
+
+<p>William and Edward accordingly went off, and left the little girls and
+Henry to play quietly. Lucy and Emily were very much pleased with the
+baby-house and the dolls, and Henry got upon the rocking-horse; and so
+they amused themselves for a while. At length Miss Beaumont, who had
+been sitting at work, went to fetch a book from an adjoining room. As
+soon as she was out of sight, Miss<!-- Page 51 --> Augusta, going softly up to the
+table, took two apples out of her work-bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Augusta, what are you doing?" said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"She is stealing," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Stealing!" said Miss Augusta, coming back into the corner of the room
+where the baby-house was; "what a vulgar boy you are! What words you
+use!"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't like to be called a thief," said Henry, "though you are not
+ashamed to steal, I see."</p>
+
+<p>"Do, Miss Augusta, put the apples back," said Emily; "your mamma said
+you must have but one, you know, to-day, and you have had one already."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush!" said Miss Augusta; "here's my governess coming back.
+Don't say a word."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she slipped the apples into the bosom of her frock, and ran
+out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going, Miss Augusta?" exclaimed Miss Beaumont.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma has sent for me," answered Augusta; "I shall be back
+immediately."</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Augusta had eaten the apples, she came back quietly, and sat
+down to play with Lucy and Emily as if nothing had happened. Soon after
+the governess looked into her work-bag, and found that two of the
+apples were gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Augusta," she said, "you have taken two apples: there are two
+gone."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not touched them," said Miss Augusta.</p>
+
+<p>"Some of you have," said Miss Beaumont, looking at the other children.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell who has," said Miss Augusta; "but I know it was not me."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily felt very angry, but they did not speak;<!-- Page 52 --> but Henry
+would have spoken if his sister Lucy had not put her hand on his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Miss Beaumont, "that some of you have taken the apples,
+and I desire that you Miss Emily, and you Miss Lucy, and you Master
+Henry, will come and sit down quietly by me, for I don't know what
+mischief you may do next."</p>
+
+<p>Now the governess did not really suppose that Mrs. Fairchild's children
+had taken the apples; but she chose to scold them because she was not
+afraid of offending their parents, but she was very much afraid of
+offending Miss Augusta and her mamma. So she made Lucy and Emily and
+Henry sit quietly down by her side before the fire. It was now getting
+dark, and a maid-servant came in with a candle, and, setting it upon
+the table, said,</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Augusta, it is time for you to be dressed to go down to tea with
+the ladies."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Miss Augusta, "bring me my clothes, and I will be dressed
+by the fireside."</p>
+
+<p>The servant then went into the closet I before spoke of, and soon
+returned with a beautiful muslin frock, wrought with flowers, a
+rose-coloured sash and shoes, and a pearl necklace. <a name="page_52a_text"></a>Emily and Lucy had
+never seen such fine clothes before; and when they saw Miss Augusta
+dressed in them they could not help looking at their own plain frocks
+and black shoes and feeling quite ashamed of them, though there was no
+more reason to be ashamed of their clothes at that time than there was
+of their being proud of them when they were first put on.</p>
+
+<a name="image_53"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/53.png" border="0"
+ width="469" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Emily and Lucy had never seen such fine clothes
+before.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_52a_text">Page 52</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>When Miss Augusta was <a name="page_52_text"></a>dressed, she said to the maid-servant,</p>
+
+<p>"Take the candle and light me down to the hall." Then, turning to Emily
+and Lucy, she added, "Will you<!-- Page 53 --><!-- Page 54 --><!-- Page 55 --> come with me? I suppose you have not
+brought any clean frocks to put on? Well, never mind; when we get into
+the drawing-room you must keep behind your mamma's chair, and nobody
+will take any notice of you."</p>
+
+<p>So Miss Augusta walked first, with the maid-servant, and Henry, and
+Lucy, and Emily followed. They went along the great gallery, and down
+the stairs, and through several fine rooms, all lighted up with many
+lamps and candles, till they came to the door where Sir Charles and
+Lady Noble, and Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, and a great many ladies and
+gentlemen were sitting in a circle round a fire. Lucy and Emily and
+Henry went and stood behind their mother's chair, and nobody took any
+notice of them; but Miss Augusta went in among the company, curtseying
+to one, giving her hand to another, and nodding and smiling at another.
+"What a charming girl Miss Augusta has grown!" said one of the ladies.
+"Your daughter, Lady Noble, will be quite a beauty," said another.
+"What an elegant frock Miss Augusta has on!" said a third lady. "That
+rose-coloured sash makes her sweet complexion more lovely than ever,"
+said one of the gentlemen; and so they went on flattering her till she
+grew more conceited and full of herself than ever; and during all the
+rest of the evening she took no more notice of Mrs. Fairchild's
+children than if they had not been in the room.</p>
+
+<p>After the company had all drank tea, several tables were set out, and
+the ladies and gentlemen began to make parties for playing at cards. As
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild never played at cards, they asked for the coach,
+and, when it was ready, wished Sir Charles and Lady Noble good-night,
+and came away.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said little Henry, "Sir Charles Noble's may be a very fine
+house, and everything may be very fine in it,<!-- Page 56 --> but I like my own little
+home and garden, and John, and the meadow, and the apple-trees, and the
+round hill, and the lane, better than all the fine things at Sir
+Charles's."</p>
+
+<p>Now all this while Emily and Lucy did not speak a word; and what do you
+think was the reason? It was this: that the sight of Miss Augusta's
+fine clothes and playthings, and beautiful rooms in which she lived,
+with the number of people she had to attend her, had made them both out
+of humour with their own humble way of living, and small house and
+plain clothes. Their hearts were full of the desire of being great,
+like Miss Augusta, and having things like her; but they did not dare to
+tell their thoughts to their mother.</p>
+
+<p>When they got home, Mrs. Fairchild gave a baked apple to each of the
+children, and some warm milk and water to drink; and after they had
+prayed, she sent them to bed. When Emily and Lucy had got into bed, and
+Betty had taken away the candle, Lucy said,</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Emily! I wish our papa and mamma were like Sir Charles and Lady
+Noble. What a beautiful frock that was that Miss Augusta had on! and I
+dare say that she has a great many more like it. And that sash!&mdash;I
+never saw so fine a colour."</p>
+
+<p><i>Emily.</i> "And then the ladies and gentlemen said she was so pretty, and
+even her governess did not dare to find fault with her!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Lucy.</i> "But Betty finds fault with us, and John, too; and papa and
+mamma make us work so hard! and we have such coarse clothes! Even our
+best frocks are not so good as those Miss Augusta wears every morning."</p>
+
+<p>In this manner they went on talking till Mrs. Fairchild came upstairs
+and into their room. As they had thick curtains round their bed, it
+being very cold weather, they did not see their mamma come into the
+room, and so she<!-- Page 57 --> heard a great deal of what they were talking about
+without their knowing it. She came up to the side of their bed, and sat
+down in a chair which stood near it, and putting the curtains aside a
+little, she said, "My dear little girls, as I came into the room I
+heard some part of what you were saying without intending it; and I am
+glad I heard it, because I can put you in a way of getting rid of these
+foolish thoughts and desires which you are speaking of to each other.
+Do not be ashamed, my dears; I am your own mamma, and love you dearly.
+Do you remember, Lucy, when Emily got that beautiful doll from Lady
+Noble, that you said you felt something in your heart which made you
+very miserable?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Lucy.</i> "Yes, mamma, I remember it very well; you told me it was envy.
+But I do not feel envy now; I do not wish to take Miss Augusta's things
+from her, or to hurt her; Emily and I only wish to be like her, and to
+have the same things she has."</p>
+
+<p>"What you now feel, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "is not exactly
+envy, though it is very like it; it is what is called ambition.
+Ambition is the desire to be greater than we are. Ambition makes people
+unhappy and discontented with what they are and what they have."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not exactly understand, mamma," said Emily, "what ambition makes
+people do."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "suppose that Betty was ambitious,
+she would be discontented at being a servant, and would want to be as
+high as her mistress; and if I were ambitious, I should strive to be
+equal to Lady Noble; and Lady Noble would want to be as great as the
+duchess, who lives at that beautiful house which we passed by when we
+went to see your grandmamma; the duchess, if she were ambitious, would
+wish to be like the Queen."<!-- Page 58 --></p>
+
+<p><i>Emily.</i> "But the Queen could be no higher, so she could not be
+ambitious."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Fairchild.</i> "My dear, you are much mistaken. When you are old
+enough to read history, you will find that when Kings and Queens are
+ambitious, it does more harm even than when little people are so. When
+Kings are ambitious, they desire to be greater than other Kings, and
+then they fight with them, and cause many cruel wars and dreadful
+miseries. So, my dear children, you see that there is no end to the
+mischief which ambition does; and whenever this desire to be great
+comes, it makes us unhappy, and in the end ruins us."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Fairchild showed to her children how much God loves people
+who are lowly and humble; and she knelt by the bedside and prayed that
+God would take all desire to be great out of her dear little girls'
+hearts.</p>
+
+<a name="image_58"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Dressed.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_52_text">Page 52</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/58.png" border="0" width="322" height="307" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 59 -->
+<h3><a name="The_All-Seeing_God" id="The_All-Seeing_God"></a>The All-Seeing God</h3>
+
+<a name="image_59"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/59.png" border="0" width="580" height="274" ALT="At last she fell asleep"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">I must</span> tell you of a sad temptation into which Emily fell about this
+time. It is a sad story, but you shall hear it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a room in Mrs. Fairchild's house which was not often used. In
+this room was a closet, full of shelves, where Mrs. Fairchild used to
+keep her sugar and tea, and sweetmeats and pickles, and many other
+things. Now, as Betty was very honest, and John, too, Mrs. Fairchild
+would often leave this closet unlocked for weeks together, and never
+missed anything out of it. One day, at the time that damsons were ripe,
+Mrs. Fairchild and Betty boiled up a great many damsons in sugar, to
+use in the winter; and when they had put them in jars and tied them
+down, they put them in the closet I before spoke of. Emily and Lucy saw
+their mother boil the damsons, and helped Betty to cover them and carry
+them to the closet. As Emily was carrying one of the jars she perceived
+that it was tied down so loosely that she could put in her finger and
+get at the fruit. Accordingly, she took out one of the damsons and ate
+it. It was so nice that she was tempted to take another; and was going
+even to take a<!-- Page 60 --> third, when she heard Betty coming up. She covered the
+jar in haste and came away. Some months after this, one evening, just
+about the time it was getting dark, she was passing by the room where
+these sweetmeats were kept, and she observed that the door was open.
+She looked round to see if anybody was near, but there was no one. Her
+parents, and her brother and sister, were in the parlour, and Betty was
+in the kitchen, and John was in the garden. No eye was looking at her
+but the eye of God, who sees everything we do, and knows even the
+secret thoughts of the heart; but at that moment the fear of God was
+not in the heart of Emily. Accordingly, she passed through the open
+door and went up to the closet. There she stood still again, and looked
+round, but saw no one. <a name="page_60_text"></a>She then opened the closet door, and took two or
+three damsons, which she ate in great haste. She then went to her own
+room, and washed her hands and her mouth, and went down into the
+parlour, where Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were just going to tea.</p>
+
+<a name="image_61"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/61.png" border="0"
+ width="466" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>She took two or three damsons, which she ate in great
+haste.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_60_text">Page 60</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Although her parents never suspected what naughty thing Emily had been
+doing, and behaved just as usual to her, yet Emily felt frightened and
+uneasy before them; and every time they spoke to her, though it was
+only to ask the commonest question, she stared and looked frightened.</p>
+
+<p>I am sorry to say that the next day, when it was beginning to get dark,
+Emily went again to the closet and took some more damsons; and so she
+did for several days, though she knew she was doing wrong.</p>
+
+<p>On the Sunday following, it happened to be so rainy that nobody could
+go to church, in consequence of which Mr. Fairchild called all the
+family into the parlour and read the Morning Service and a sermon. Some
+sermons are hard and difficult for children to understand, but this<!-- Page 61 --><!-- Page 62 --><!-- Page 63 -->
+was a very plain, easy sermon&mdash;even Henry could tell his mamma a great
+deal about it. The text was from Psalm cxxxix., 7th to 12th verses.</p>
+
+<p>The meaning of these verses was explained in the sermon. It was first
+shown that the Lord is a spirit; and, secondly, that there is no place
+where He is not: that if a person could go up into heaven, he would
+find God there; if he were to go down to hell, there also would he find
+God: that God is in every part of the earth, and of the sea, and of the
+sky; and that, being always present in every place, He knows everything
+we do and everything we say, and even every thought of our hearts,
+however secret we may think it. Then the sermon went on to show how
+foolish and mad it is for people to do wicked things in secret and dark
+places, trusting that God will not know it. "If I say, Surely the
+darkness shall cover me, even the night shall be light about me," for
+no night is dark unto God.</p>
+
+<p>While Mr. Fairchild was reading, Emily felt frightened and unhappy,
+thinking of the wickedness she was guilty of every day; and she even
+thought that she never would be guilty again of the same sin; but when
+the evening came all her good resolutions left her, for she confided in
+her own strength; and she went again to the room where the damsons were
+kept. However, when she came to the door of the closet, she thought of
+the sermon which her father had read in the morning, and stood still a
+few moments to consider what she should do. "There is nobody in this
+room," she said; "and nobody sees me, it is true, but God is in this
+room; He sees me; His eye is now upon me. I will not take any more
+damsons. I will go back, I think. But yet, as I am come so far, and am
+just got to the closet, I will just take one damson&mdash;it shall be the
+last. I will never come here again without mamma's leave." So she
+opened the closet door and took one damson, and then<!-- Page 64 --> another, and then
+two more. Whilst she was taking the last, she heard the cat mew. She
+did not know that the cat had followed her into the room; and she was
+so frightened that she spilled some of the red juice upon her frock,
+but she did not perceive it at the time. She then left the closet, and
+went, as usual, to wash her hands and mouth, and went down into the
+parlour.</p>
+
+<p>When Emily got into the parlour, she immediately saw the red stain on
+her frock. She did not stay till it was observed, but ran out again
+instantly, and went upstairs and washed her frock. As the stain had not
+dried in, it came out with very little trouble; but not till Emily had
+wetted all the bosom of her frock and sleeves, and that so much that
+all her inner clothes were thoroughly wet, even to the skin; to hide
+this, she put her pinafore on to go down to tea. When she came down,
+"Where have you been, Emily?" said Mrs. Fairchild; "we have almost done
+tea."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been playing with the cat upstairs, mamma," said Emily. But
+when she told this sad untruth she felt very unhappy, and her
+complexion changed once or twice from red to pale.</p>
+
+<p>It was a cold evening, and Emily kept as much away from the fire and
+candle as she could, lest any spots should be left in her frock, and
+her mother should see them. She had no opportunity, therefore, of
+drying or warming herself, and she soon began to feel quite chilled and
+trembling. Soon after a burning heat came into the palms of her hands,
+and a soreness about her throat; however, she did not dare to complain,
+but sat till bedtime, getting every minute more and more uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time after she was in bed, and even after her parents came
+to bed, before she could sleep; at last she fell asleep, but her sleep
+was disturbed by<!-- Page 65 --> dreadful dreams, such as she had never experienced
+before. It was her troubled conscience, together with an uneasy body,
+which gave her these dreadful dreams; and so horrible were they, that
+at length she awoke, screaming violently. Her parents heard her cry,
+and came running in to her, bringing a light; but she was in such a
+terror that at first she did not know them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "this child is in a burning fever!
+Only feel her hands!"</p>
+
+<p>It was true, indeed; and when Mr. Fairchild felt her, he was so much
+frightened that he resolved to watch by her all night, and in the
+morning, as soon as it was light, to send John for the doctor. But what
+do you suppose Emily felt all this time, knowing, as she did, how she
+had brought on this illness, and how she had deceived for many days
+this dear father and mother, who now gave up their own rest to attend
+her?</p>
+
+<p>Emily continued to get worse during the night: neither was the doctor
+able, when he came, to stop the fever which followed the severe chill
+she had taken, though he did his uttermost. It would have grieved you
+to have seen poor Lucy and Henry. They could neither read nor play,
+they missed their dear sister so much. They continually said to each
+other, "Oh, Emily! dear Emily! there is no pleasure without our dear
+Emily!"</p>
+
+<p>The next day, when the doctor came, Emily was so very ill that he
+thought it right that Lucy and Henry should be sent out of the house.
+Accordingly, John got the horse ready, and took them to Mrs.
+Goodriche's. Poor Lucy and Henry! How bitterly they cried when they
+went out of the gate, thinking that perhaps they might never see their
+dear Emily any more! It was a terrible trial to poor Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild. They had no comfort but in praying and watching by poor
+Emily's bed. And all<!-- Page 66 --> this grief Emily brought upon her friends by her
+own naughtiness.</p>
+
+<p>Emily was exceedingly ill for nine days, and everyone feared that if
+the fever continued a few days longer she must die; when, by the mercy
+of God, it suddenly left her, and she fell asleep and continued
+sleeping for many hours.</p>
+
+<p>When she awoke, she was very weak, but her fever was gone. She kissed
+her parents, and wanted to tell them of the naughty things she had
+done, which had been the cause of the illness, but they would not allow
+her to speak.</p>
+
+<p>From that day she got better, and at the end of another week was so
+well that she was able to sit up and tell Mrs. Fairchild all the
+history of her stealing the damsons, and of the sad way in which she
+had got the fever.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma," said Emily, "what a naughty girl have I been! What trouble
+have I given to you, and to papa, and to the doctor, and to Betty! I
+thought that God would take no notice of my sin. I thought He did not
+see when I was stealing in the dark. But I was much mistaken. His eye
+was upon me all the time. And yet how good, how very good, He has been
+to me! When I was ill, I might have died. And oh, mamma! mamma! how
+unhappy you would have been then!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 67 -->
+<h3><a name="Emilys_Recovery_and_the_Old_Story_of_Mrs_Howard" id="Emilys_Recovery_and_the_Old_Story_of_Mrs_Howard"></a>Emily's Recovery, and the Old Story of Mrs. Howard</h3>
+
+<a name="image_67"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/67.png" border="0" width="573" height="255" ALT="&quot;What sound is that I hear?&quot; said Emily"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">After</span> Emily's fever was gone, she got rapidly better every day. Her
+kind mother never left her, but sat by her bed and talked to her, and
+provided everything which was likely to do her good.</p>
+
+<p>When she was well enough, Mr. Fairchild borrowed Farmer Jones's covered
+cart for two days; and he set out, with Mrs. Fairchild and Emily, to
+fetch Henry and Lucy from Mrs. Goodriche's. It was a lovely morning at
+the finest season of the year. The little birds were singing in the
+hedges, and the grass and leaves of the trees shone with the dew. When
+John drove the cart out of the garden-gate and down the lane, "Oh,"
+said Emily, "how sweet the honeysuckles and the wild roses smell in the
+hedges! There, mamma, are some young lambs playing in the fields by
+their mothers; and there is one quite white&mdash;not a spot about it. It
+turns its pretty face towards us. How mild and gentle it looks!"</p>
+
+<p>Whilst they were talking, the cart had come alongside a wood, which was
+exceedingly shady and beautiful. Many<!-- Page 68 --> tufts of primroses, violets, and
+wood-anemones grew on the banks by the wayside; and as the wind blew
+gently over these flowers, it brought a most delightful smell.</p>
+
+<p>"What sound is that which I hear among the trees?" said Emily. "It is
+very sweet and soft."</p>
+
+<p>"That is the cooing of wood-pigeons or doves," said Mr. Fairchild. "And
+look, Emily, there they are! They are sitting upon the branch of a
+tree; there are two of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see them!" said Emily. "Oh, how soft and pretty they look! But
+now the noise of the cart has frightened them; they are flown away."</p>
+
+<p>By this time the cart had passed through the wood, and they were come
+in sight of Mrs. Goodriche's white house standing in a little garden
+under a hill.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, mamma!" said Emily, "there is Mrs. Goodriche's house! And I
+shall see my dear Lucy and Henry in a very little time."</p>
+
+<p>Just as Emily spoke, they saw Lucy and Henry step out of the
+house-door, and come running towards the cart. It would have pleased
+you to the heart had you seen how rejoiced these dear children were to
+meet each other. Mr. Fairchild lifted Henry and Lucy into the cart; and
+they cried for joy when they put their arms around dear Emily's neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Emily, Emily!" said Henry. "If you had died, I never would have
+played again."</p>
+
+<p>"God be praised!" said Mr. Fairchild. "Our dear Emily has been spared
+to us."</p>
+
+<p>When the cart came up to Mrs. Goodriche's garden-gate, the good old
+lady came to receive Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, and to kiss Emily; and
+Sukey peeped out of the kitchen-window, not less pleased than her
+mistress to see Emily in good health.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Sukey was getting the dinner, Emily and her<!-- Page 69 --><!-- Page 70 --><!-- Page 71 -->
+<a name="page_68a_text"></a>brother and
+sister went to play in the garden. Henry showed Emily some rabbits
+which Mrs. Goodriche had, and some young ducks which had been hatched a
+few days before, with many other pretty things. When dinner was ready,
+Mrs. Fairchild called the children in, and they all sat down, full of
+joy, to eat roast fowl and some boiled bacon, with a nice cold currant
+and raspberry pie.</p>
+
+
+<a name="image_69"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/69.png" border="0"
+ width="462" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Emily and her brother and sister went to play in the
+garden.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_68a_text">Page 68</a>.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>After dinner Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche, with the
+children, walked as far as the wood where Emily had seen the doves, to
+gather strawberries, which they mixed with some cream and sugar at
+night for their supper.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, after breakfast, Mr. Fairchild went out to take a
+walk. Then Mrs. Goodriche called the three children to her, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my dear children, I will tell you a story. Come, sit round me
+upon these little stools, and hearken."</p>
+
+<p>The children were very much pleased when they heard Mrs. Goodriche say
+she would tell them a story, for Mrs. Goodriche could tell a great many
+pretty stories.</p>
+
+
+<p>The Old Story of Mrs. Howard</p>
+
+<p>"About fifty years ago," said Mrs. Goodriche, "a little old lady, named
+Mrs. Howard, lived in this house with her maid Betty. She had an old
+horse called Crop, which grazed in that meadow, and carried Betty to
+market once a week. Mrs. Howard was one of the kindest and most
+good-natured old ladies in England. Three or four times every year
+Betty had orders, when she went to market, to bring all manner of
+playthings and little books from the toy-shop. These playthings and
+pretty little books Mrs.<!-- Page 72 --> Howard used to keep by her till she saw any
+children whom she thought worthy of them. But she never gave any
+playthings to children who did not obey their parents, or who were rude
+or ill-mannered, for she would say, 'It is a great sin in the eyes of
+God for children to be rude and unmannerly.' All the children in the
+neighbourhood used from time to time to visit Mrs. Howard; and those
+who wished to be obliging never came away without some pretty plaything
+or book.</p>
+
+<p>"At that time there were in this country two families of the name of
+Cartwright and Bennet; the former much beloved by the neighbours on
+account of their good qualities; the latter as much disliked for their
+bad ones.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bennet was a rich farmer, and lived in a good old house, with
+everything handsome and plentiful about him; but nobody cared to go
+near him or to visit his wife, because their manners were so rough and
+disobliging; and their two children, Master Jacky and Miss Polly, were
+brought up only to please themselves and to care for nobody else. But,
+on the contrary, Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright made their house so agreeable
+by their civil and courteous manners that high and low, rich and poor,
+loved to go there; and Master Billy and Miss Patty Cartwright were
+spoken well of throughout the whole neighbourhood for their pretty and
+modest behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>"It happened once upon a time that Betty went to town at the end of the
+Midsummer Fair, and brought some of the prettiest toys and books which
+had been seen in this country for a long time; amongst these was a
+jointed doll with flaxen hair, and a history of the Bible full of
+coloured pictures, exceedingly pretty. Soon after Betty brought these
+things home, Mrs. Howard said to her: 'Betty, you must make a cake and
+put some plums in it, and a large apple-pie, and some custards and
+cheesecakes; and we<!-- Page 73 --> will invite Master and Miss Cartwright, and Master
+Bennet and his sister Miss Polly, and some other children, to spend a
+day with us; and before they go home, we will give those who have
+behaved well during the day some of those pretty toys which you brought
+from the Midsummer Fair.'</p>
+
+<p>"Accordingly, Betty made the cake, and the cheesecakes, and custards,
+and the large apple-pie; and Mrs. Howard sent to invite Master and Miss
+Cartwright, and Master Bennet and his sister, to spend the next day
+with her.</p>
+
+<p>"In those days little misses did not wear muslin or linen frocks,
+which, when they are dirtied, may easily be washed and made clean
+again; but they wore stuff, silk, and satin slips, with lace or gauze
+ruffles, and bibs, and aprons, and little round caps with artificial
+flowers. Children were then taught to be very careful never to dirty
+their best clothes, and to fold them up very smooth when they pulled
+them off.</p>
+
+<p>"When Mrs. Bennet received Mrs. Howard's invitation for her children,
+she called them to her, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'My dears, you are to go to-morrow to see Mrs. Howard; and I have been
+told that she has by her some very pretty toys, which she means to give
+away to those children who please her best. You have seen the gilt
+coach-and-four which she gave last year to Miss Cartwright, and the
+little watch which Master Cartwright received from her last Christmas;
+and why should not you also have some of these fine toys? Only try to
+please the old lady to-morrow, and I dare say she will give you some;
+for I am sure you are quite as good as Master and Miss Cartwright,
+though you are not quite so sly.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh!' said Master Bennet, 'I should like to get the toys, if it was
+only to triumph over Master Cartwright. But what must we do to please
+Mrs. Howard?'<!-- Page 74 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Why,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'when your best things are put on to-morrow,
+you must take care not to rumple or soil them before you appear in Mrs.
+Howard's presence; and when you come into her parlour you must stop at
+the door, and bow low and curtsey; and when you are desired to sit
+down, you must sit still till dinner is brought in; and when dinner is
+ready, you must stand up and say grace before you eat; and you must
+take whatever is offered you, without saying, "I will have this," and
+"I will have that," as you do at home.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Bennet gave her children a great many other rules for their
+behaviour in Mrs. Howard's presence, which I have not time to repeat
+now," said Mrs. Goodriche; "all of which Master Jacky and Miss Polly
+promised to remember, for they were very desirous to get the
+playthings.</p>
+
+<p>"And now I will tell you what Mrs. Cartwright said to her children when
+she got Mrs. Howard's invitation. She called them to her, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Here, Billy&mdash;here, Patty, is a note from Mrs. Howard to invite you to
+spend the day with her to-morrow; and I am glad of it, because I know
+you love to go to Mrs. Howard's, she is so good to all children, and
+has been particularly kind to you. I hear she has some pretty
+playthings by her now to give away; but don't you be greedy of them, my
+dears. You have a variety of playthings, you know&mdash;more than most
+children have, and it does not become anyone to be covetous. And
+remember, my dear children, to behave civilly and politely to
+everybody.'</p>
+
+<p>"And now I will tell you how these children behaved. About eleven
+o'clock Mrs. Cartwright had her two children dressed in their best, and
+sent them with the maid-servant to Mrs. Howard's. As they were walking
+quietly over a corn-field, through which they must needs pass, they
+saw<!-- Page 75 --><!-- Page 76 --><!-- Page 77 --> Master and Miss Bennet with their servant sitting on a stile at
+the farther end of the field.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh!' said Miss Patty, 'there are Master and Miss Bennet&mdash;on the way,
+I suppose, to Mrs. Howard's. I am sorry we have met with them; I am
+afraid they will get us into some mischief.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why should you say so?' said Master Cartwright. 'Let us speak of
+things as we may find them.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Master and Miss Cartwright came near the stile, Master Bennet
+called to them:</p>
+
+<p>"'What a long time you have been coming over the field! We have been
+waiting for you this half-hour,' said he. 'Come, now, let us join
+company. I suppose that you are going, as we are, to Mrs. Howard's.'</p>
+
+<p>"Master Cartwright answered civilly, and all the children, with the two
+servants, got over the stile and went down a pretty lane which was
+beyond.</p>
+
+<p>"The children walked on quietly till they came to a duck-pond, partly
+overgrown with weeds, which was at the farther end of the lane. When
+they came near to this, Master Bennet whispered to his sister:</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_77a_text"></a>"'I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk slip.'</p>
+
+<a name="image_75"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/75.png" border="0"
+ width="459" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk
+slip.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_77a_text">Page 77</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"'Do, Jack,' answered Miss Polly.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Bennet then, winking at his sister, went up to the pond, and
+pulling up some of the weeds, which were all wet and muddy, he threw
+them at Miss Cartwright's slip, saying, at the same time:</p>
+
+<p>"'There, Miss, there is a present for you.'</p>
+
+<p>"But, as it happened, Miss Cartwright saw the weeds coming, and caught
+them in her hand, and threw them from her. Upon this Master Bennet was
+going to pluck more weeds, but Mr. Cartwright's maid-servant held his
+hands, whilst little Billy and his sister ran forwards to<!-- Page 78 --> Mrs.
+Howard's house, which was just in sight, as fast as their feet would
+carry them.</p>
+
+<p>"'There, now,' said Miss Polly, 'those spiteful children have gone to
+tell Mrs. Howard what you have done, brother, and we shall not get any
+toys. You are always in mischief, that you are.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am sure you told me to throw the weeds,' answered Master Bennet.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am sure I did not,' said Miss Polly.</p>
+
+<p>"'But you knew that I was going to do it,' said he.</p>
+
+<p>"'But I did not,' said she.</p>
+
+<p>"'But you did, for I told you,' said he.</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner this brother and sister went on scolding each other
+till they came to Mrs. Howard's gate. There Miss Polly smoothed her
+apron, and Master Jacky combed his hair with his pocket-comb, and they
+walked hand-in-hand into Mrs. Howard's parlour as if nothing had
+happened. They made a low bow and curtsey at the door, as their mamma
+had bidden them; and Mrs. Howard received them very kindly, for Master
+and Miss Cartwright had not mentioned a word of their ill-behaviour on
+the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides Master and Miss Cartwright, there were several other children
+sitting in Mrs. Howard's parlour, waiting till dinner should be set on
+the table. My mother was there," said Mrs. Goodriche&mdash;"she was then a
+very little girl&mdash;and your grandmother and great-uncle, both young
+ones; with many others now dead and gone. In one corner of the parlour
+was a cupboard with glass doors, where Mrs. Howard had placed such of
+those pretty toys (as I before spoke of) which she meant to give away
+in the afternoon. The prettiest of these was the jointed doll, neatly
+dressed in a green satin slip, and gauze apron and bib.</p>
+
+<p>"By the time Master and Miss Bennet had made their<!-- Page 79 --> bow and curtsey,
+and were seated, Betty came in with the dinner, and Mrs. Howard called
+the children to table. Master and Miss Bennet, seeing the beautiful
+toys before them through the glass doors of the cupboard, did not
+forget to behave themselves well at table; they said grace and ate such
+things as were offered them; and Mrs. Howard, who noticed their good
+behaviour, began to hope that Farmer Bennet's children were becoming
+better.</p>
+
+<p>"After the children had got their dinner, it being a very pleasant
+afternoon, Mrs. Howard gave them leave to play in the garden, and in
+the little croft, where she kept her old horse Crop.</p>
+
+<p>"'But take care, my dears,' she said to the little girls, 'not to soil
+your slips or tear your aprons.'</p>
+
+<p>"The children were much pleased with this permission to play; and after
+they were gone out, Mrs. Howard put on her hood and cloak, and said to
+Betty:</p>
+
+<p>"'I shall drink tea, Betty, in my bower at the end of the grass walk;
+do you bring my little tea-table there, and the strawberries and cream,
+and the cake which you made yesterday; and when we have finished our
+tea, bring those toys which are in the glass cupboard to divide amongst
+the children.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And I think, madam,' said Betty, 'that Master and Miss Bennet will
+gain some of them to-day, for I thought they behaved very well at
+dinner.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, 'I must say I never saw them behave
+so mannerly as they did at dinner, and if they do but keep it up till
+night, I shall not send them home without some pretty present, I assure
+you.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Mrs. Howard had given her orders to Betty, she took her
+gold-headed stick in her hand, and went down the grass walk to her
+bower. It was a pretty bower, as I have heard my mother say, formed of
+honeysuckles<!-- Page 80 --> and other creeping shrubs nailed over a framework of lath
+in the old-fashioned way. It stood just at the end of that long green
+walk, and at the corner of the field; so that anyone sitting in the
+bower might see through the lattice-work and foliage of the
+honeysuckles into the field, and hear all that was said. There good
+Mrs. Howard sat knitting (for she prepared stockings for most of the
+poor children in the neighbourhood), whilst her little visitors played
+in the garden and in the field, and Betty came to and fro with the
+tea-table and tea-things.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst the children were all engaged with their sports in the croft, a
+poor old man, who had been gathering sticks, came by that way, bending
+under the weight of the load. When he appeared, the children ceased
+from their play, and stood looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Poor man!' said Miss Patty Cartwright, 'those sticks are too heavy
+for you to carry. Have you far to go?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No, my pretty miss,' said the old man; 'only a very little way.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I cannot help to carry your sticks,' said Master Cartwright, 'because
+I have my best coat on. I could take off that, to be sure, but then my
+other things would be spoiled; but I have got a penny here, if you
+please to accept it.' So saying, he forced the penny into the poor
+man's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime, Master Bennet went behind the old man, and giving the
+sticks a sly pull, the string that tied them together broke, and they
+all came tumbling on the ground. The children screamed, but nobody was
+hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, my sticks!' said the poor man; 'the string is broke! What shall I
+do to gather them together again? I have been all day making this
+little faggot.'</p>
+
+<p>"'We will help you,' said Master Cartwright; 'we can<!-- Page 81 --> gather your
+sticks together without fear of hurting our clothes.'</p>
+
+<p>"So all the little ones set to work (excepting Master and Miss Bennet,
+who stood by laughing), and in a little while they made up the poor
+man's bundle of sticks again, and such as had a penny in their pockets
+gave it him. Miss Patty Cartwright had not a penny, but she had a
+silver sixpence, which she gave to the old man, and ran before him to
+open the gate (which led out of the field), wishing him good-night, and
+curtseying to him as civilly as if he had been the first lord of the
+land.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the children never suspected that Mrs. Howard had heard and seen
+all this, or else Master and Miss Bennet, I am sure, would not have
+behaved as they did. They thought Mrs. Howard was in the parlour, where
+they had left her.</p>
+
+<p>"By this time everything was ready for tea, and the cake set upon the
+table, with the strawberries and cream.</p>
+
+<p>"'And now, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, 'you may call the children; and be
+sure, when tea is over, to bring the toys.'</p>
+
+<p>"Master and Miss Bennet looked as demure when they came in to tea as
+they had done at dinner, and a stranger would have thought them as
+well-behaved children as Master and Miss Cartwright; but children who
+behave well in the sight of their parents, or in company, and rudely or
+impertinently in private, or among servants or their playfellows,
+cannot be called well-bred.</p>
+
+<p>"After the young people had had their tea and cake, and strawberries
+and cream, Betty came with the playthings, and placed them on the table
+before Mrs. Howard. You would, perhaps, like to know what these
+playthings were:&mdash;First of all was the jointed doll, dressed, as I
+before said, in a green satin slip, and a gauze bib and<!-- Page 82 --> apron, and
+round cap, according to the fashion of those days; then there was the
+History of the Bible, with coloured pictures; then came a little chest
+of drawers, for dolls' clothes; a doll's wicker cradle; a bat and ball;
+a red morocco pocket-book; a needle-book; and the History of King
+Pepin, bound and gilt. These beautiful books and toys were placed on
+the table before Mrs. Howard, and the little ones waited in silence to
+see what she would do with them. Mrs. Howard looked first at the
+playthings, and then at the children, and thus she spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"'My dear children, I sent for these pretty toys from the fair, in
+order to encourage you to be good: there is nothing that gives me
+greater pleasure than to see children polite and mannerly, endeavouring
+to please everybody, "in honour preferring one another," as God hath
+commanded us to do. Pride and ill manners, my dear children, are great
+faults; but humility, and a wish to please everyone rather than
+ourselves, make us resemble the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, who did not
+despise the poorest among men. Many persons are polite and
+good-mannered when in company with their betters, because, if they were
+not so, people would have nothing to say to them: but really
+well-behaved persons are courteous and civil, not only when they are
+among their betters, but when they are with servants, or with poor
+people.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then Mrs. Howard took the jointed doll, and the History of the Bible,
+and gave the one to Miss Patty Cartwright, and the other to Master
+Billy, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"'I give you these, my children, because I observed your good manners,
+not only to me, but to the poor old man who passed through the croft
+with his bundle of sticks. To you, Master Bennet, and to you, Miss
+Polly, I shall not give anything; because you showed, by your<!-- Page 83 -->
+behaviour to the old man, that your good manners were all an outside
+garb, which you put on and off like your Sunday clothes.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then Mrs. Howard gave the rest of the toys among the lesser children,
+commending them for helping the old man to gather his sticks together;
+and thus she dismissed them to their own houses, all of them, except
+Master Jacky and Miss Polly, jumping and skipping for joy."</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Goodriche had finished her story, Lucy said:</p>
+
+<p>"What a pretty story that is! I think Master and Miss Cartwright
+deserved those pretty toys&mdash;they were nice children: but I did not know
+that having rude manners was so very great a fault."</p>
+
+<p>"If you will think a minute, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "you will
+find that rude manners must be one sign of badness of heart: a person
+who has always a lowly opinion of himself, and proper love for his
+neighbour, will never be guilty of rudeness; it is only when we think
+ourselves better than others, or of more consequence than they are,
+that we venture to be rude. I have heard you say how rude Miss Augusta
+Noble was the last time you were at her house. Now, why was she rude,
+but because she thought herself better than her company? This is pride,
+and a great sin it is."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 84 -->
+<h3><a name="Sad_Story_of_a_Disobedient_Child" id="Sad_Story_of_a_Disobedient_Child"></a>Sad Story of a Disobedient Child</h3>
+
+<a name="image_84"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/84.png" border="0" width="566" height="240" ALT="Looking in the glass, with a candle in her hand"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">When</span> Mr. Fairchild returned from his walk he found John ready with the
+cart, so, wishing Mrs. Goodriche a good-evening, and thanking her for
+her kindness, they returned home.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Mr. Fairchild got up early, and went down to the
+village. Breakfast was ready, and Mrs. Fairchild and the children
+waiting at the table, when he came back.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your breakfast, my dear," said he to Mrs. Fairchild; "don't wait
+for me." So saying, he went into his study and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild, supposing that he had some letters to write, got her
+breakfast quietly; after which she sent Lucy to ask her father if he
+would not choose any breakfast. When Mr. Fairchild heard Lucy's voice
+at the study-door, he came out, and followed her into the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Fairchild looked at her husband's face she saw that something
+had grieved him very much. She was frightened, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, I am sure something is the matter; what is it? Tell me the
+worst at once; pray do!"<!-- Page 85 --></p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild, "I have heard something this
+morning which has shocked me dreadfully. I was not willing to tell you
+before you had breakfasted. I know what you will feel when you hear
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do tell me," said Mrs. Fairchild, turning quite white.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Augusta Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"What, papa?" said Lucy and Emily and Henry, in one voice.</p>
+
+<p>"She is dead!" exclaimed Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>The children turned as pale as their mother; and poor Mrs. Fairchild
+nearly fainted.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! poor Lady Noble! poor Lady Noble!" said she, as soon as she could
+speak. "Poor Lady Noble!"</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the children were crying over the sad news Mrs. Barker came into
+the parlour. Mrs. Barker was a kind woman, and, as she lived by
+herself, was always at liberty to go amongst her neighbours in times of
+trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mrs. Fairchild," she said, "I know what troubles you: we are all
+in grief through the whole village."</p>
+
+<p>"What was the cause of the poor child's death?" asked Mrs. Fairchild.
+"I never heard that she was ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Mrs. Fairchild, the manner of her death is the worst part of the
+story, and that which must grieve her parents more than all. You know
+that poor Miss Augusta was always the darling of her mother, who
+brought her up in great pride; and she chose a foolish governess for
+her who had no good influence upon her."</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought much of Miss Beaumont," said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"As Miss Augusta was brought up without the fear of God," continued
+Mrs. Barker, "she had, of course, no notion of obedience to her
+parents, further than just trying to please them in their presence; she
+lived in the constant practice of disobeying them, and the governess
+continually<!-- Page 86 --> concealed her disobedience from Lady Noble. And what is
+the consequence? The poor child has lost her life, and Miss Beaumont is
+turned out of doors in disgrace."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Mrs. Fairchild, "how did she lose her life through
+disobedience to her parents? Pray tell me, Mrs. Barker."</p>
+
+<p>"The story is so sad I hardly like to tell it you," answered Mrs.
+Barker; "but you must know it sooner or later. Miss Augusta had a
+custom of playing with fire, and carrying candles about, though Lady
+Noble had often warned her of the danger of this habit, and strictly
+charged her governess to prevent it. But it seems that the governess,
+being afraid of offending, had suffered her very often to be guilty of
+this piece of disobedience, without telling Lady Noble. And the night
+before last, when Lady Noble was playing at cards in the drawing-room
+with some visitors, Miss Augusta took a candle off the hall table, and
+carried it upstairs to the governess's room. No one was there, and it
+is supposed that Miss Augusta was looking in the glass with a candle in
+her hand, when the flame caught her dress; but this is not known. Lady
+Noble's maid, who was in the next room, was alarmed by her dreadful
+screams, and, hastening to discover the cause, found poor Augusta in a
+blaze from head to foot. The unhappy young lady was so dreadfully burnt
+that she never spoke afterwards, but died in agonies last night."</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Fairchild and the children heard this dreadful story they
+were very much grieved. Mrs. Barker stayed with them all day; and it
+was, indeed, a day of mourning through all the house.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 87 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Two_Books" id="The_Two_Books"></a>The Two Books</h3>
+
+
+<a name="image_87"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/87.png" border="0" width="575" height="334" ALT="&quot;Please choose a book for me&quot;"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> was the time of the Midsummer Fair, and John asked Mr. Fairchild's
+leave to go to the fair.</p>
+
+<p>"You may go, John," said Mr. Fairchild; "and take the horse, and bring
+everything that is wanting in the family."</p>
+
+<p>So John got the horse ready, and set out early in the morning to go to
+the fair; but before he went Emily and Lucy gave him what money they
+had, and begged him to bring them each a book. Emily gave him twopence,
+and Lucy gave him threepence.</p>
+
+<p>"You must please choose a book for me with pictures in it," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not care about pictures," said Lucy, "if it is a pretty book. So
+pray don't forget, John."</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, after tea, the children and their father and mother, as
+usual, got ready to take a walk; and the children begged Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild to go with them to meet John. "For John," said Henry, "will
+be<!-- Page 88 --> coming back now, and will have brought us some pretty books."</p>
+
+<p>So Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild took the road which led towards the town
+where the fair was held, and the children ran before them. It was a
+fine evening. The hedges were full of wild roses, which smelt most
+sweet; and the haymakers were making hay in the fields on each side of
+the road.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot think where John can be," said Henry. "I thought he would be
+here long before now."</p>
+
+<p>By this time they were come to the brow of a rising ground; and looking
+before them, behold, there was John at a distance! The children all ran
+forward to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the books, John? Oh, where are the books?" they all said
+with one voice.</p>
+
+<p>John, who was a very good-natured man, as I have before said, smiled,
+and, stopping his horse, began to feel in his pockets; and soon brought
+out, from among other things, two little gilt books; the largest of
+which he gave to Lucy, and the other to Emily, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Here is two pennyworth&mdash;and here is three pennyworth."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, John, you are very good," said the children. "What beautiful
+books!"</p>
+
+<p>"My book," said Emily, "is 'The History of the Orphan Boy,' and there
+are a great many pictures in it: the first is a picture of a
+funeral&mdash;that must be the funeral of the poor little boy's papa and
+mamma, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see, let me see," said Henry. "Oh, how pretty! And what's your
+book, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are not many pictures in my book," said Lucy; "but there is one
+at the beginning: it is the picture of a<!-- Page 89 --> little boy reading to
+somebody lying in a bed; and there is a lady sitting by. The name of my
+book is 'The History of Little Henri, or the Good Son.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that must be very pretty," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come up.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa! oh, mamma!" said the little ones, "what beautiful books John
+has brought!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," said Mr. Fairchild, when he had looked at them a little
+while, "they appear to be very nice books, and the pictures in them are
+very pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Henry shall read them to us, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "whilst
+we sit at work; I should like to hear them very much."</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow," said Mr. Fairchild, looking at his wife, "we begin to make
+hay in the Primrose Meadow. What do you say? Shall we go after
+breakfast, and take a cold dinner with us, and spend the day under the
+trees at the corner of the meadow? Then we can watch the haymakers, and
+Henry can read the books whilst you and his sisters are sewing."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do let us go! do let us go!" said the children; "do, mamma, say
+yes."</p>
+
+<p>"With all my heart, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning early the children got everything ready to go into the
+Primrose Meadow. They had each of them a little basket, with a lid to
+it, in which they packed up their work and the new books; and, as soon
+as the family had breakfasted, they all set out for the Primrose
+Meadow: Mr. Fairchild, with a book in his pocket for his own reading;
+Mrs. Fairchild, with her work-bag hanging on her arm; Betty, with a
+basket of bread and meat and a cold fruit-pie; and the children with
+their work-baskets and Emily's doll, for the little girls<!-- Page 90 --> seldom went
+out without their doll. The Primrose Meadow was not a quarter of a mile
+from Mr. Fairchild's house: you had only the corner of a little copse
+to pass through before you were in it. It was called the Primrose
+Meadow because every spring the first primroses in the neighbourhood
+appeared on a sunny bank in that meadow. A little brook of very clear
+water ran through the meadow, rippling over the pebbles; and there were
+many alders growing by the water-side.</p>
+
+<p>The people were very busy making hay in the meadow when Mr. Fairchild
+and his family arrived. Mrs. Fairchild sat down under the shade of a
+large oak-tree which grew in the corner of the coppice, and Lucy and
+Henry, with Emily, placed themselves by her. The little girls pulled
+out their work, and Henry the new books. Mr. Fairchild took his book to
+a little distance, that he might not be disturbed by Henry's reading,
+and he stretched himself upon a green bank.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, mamma," said Henry, "are you ready to hear my story? And have you
+done fidgeting, sisters?" For Lucy and Emily had been bustling to make
+a bed for their doll in the grass with their pocket-handkerchiefs.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother," answered Lucy, "we are quite ready to hear you&mdash;read away;
+there is nothing now to disturb you, unless you find fault with the
+little birds who are chirping with all their might in these trees, and
+those bees which are buzzing amongst the flowers in the grass."</p>
+
+<p>"First," said Henry, "look at the picture at the beginning of the
+book&mdash;the picture of the funeral going through the churchyard."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see, brother," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you have seen it several times," said Henry; "and now I want to
+read."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you might<!-- Page 91 --> oblige your sister.
+Good manners and civility make everybody lovely. Have you forgotten
+Mrs. Goodriche's story of Master Bennet?"</p>
+
+<p>Henry immediately got up, and showed his sister the picture, after
+which he sat down again and <a name="page_91_text"></a>began to read the story in Emily's book.</p>
+
+<a name="tn_pg_127"></a><!--TN: Changed "Page 9" from "Page 91."-->
+<a name="image_91"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Henry reads the story.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_91_text">Page 91</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/91.png" border="0" width="406" height="342" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 92 -->
+<h3><a name="The_History_of_the_Orphan_Boy" id="The_History_of_the_Orphan_Boy"></a>The History of the Orphan Boy</h3>
+
+
+<a name="image_92"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/92.png" border="0" width="575" height="259" ALT="Marten behaved well at breakfast"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"In</span> a little flowery valley near Tenterden there lived once a certain
+farmer who had a wife and one little boy, whose name was Marten. The
+farmer and his wife were people who feared God and loved their
+neighbours, and though they were not rich, they were contented. In the
+same parish lived two gentlemen, named Squire Broom and Squire Blake,
+as the country people called them. Squire Broom was a man who feared
+God; but Squire Blake was one of those men who cared for nothing beyond
+the things of this world. He was a very rich man, and was considered by
+the neighbours to be good-tempered. His lady kept a plentiful house,
+and was glad to see anyone who came. They had no children, and, as they
+had been married many years, it was thought they never would have any.
+Squire Broom was not so rich as Squire Blake, and, though a very worthy
+man, was not of such pleasing manners, so that many people did not like
+him, though in times of distress he was one of the kindest friends in
+the world. Squire Broom had a very large family, which he brought up in
+an orderly,<!-- Page 93 --> pious manner; but some of the neighbours did not fail to
+find fault with him for being too strict with his children.</p>
+
+<p>"When little Marten was about three years of age his father was killed
+as he was going to Tenterden market by a fall from his horse. This was
+so great a grief to his mother, who loved her husband very dearly, that
+she fell immediately into a bad state of health; and though she lived
+as much as two years after her husband, yet she was all that time a
+dying woman. There was nothing in the thoughts of death which made this
+poor woman unhappy at any time, excepting when she considered that she
+must leave her little Marten to strangers; and this grieved her the
+more because little Marten was a very tender child, and had always been
+so from his birth.</p>
+
+<p>"It happened a few weeks before her death, as little Marten's mother
+was lying on her couch, that one Mrs. Short, who lived in Tenterden,
+and spent her time in gossiping from house to house, came bustling into
+the room where Marten's mother lay.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am come to tell you,' said she, 'that Squire Blake's lady will be
+here just now.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It is some time since I have seen Mrs. Blake,' said Marten's mother;
+'but it is kind of her to visit me in my trouble.'</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst she was speaking Mr. Blake's carriage came up to the door, and
+Mrs. Blake stepped out. She came into the parlour in a very free and
+friendly manner, and, taking Marten's mother by the hand, she said she
+was very sorry to see her looking so ill.</p>
+
+<p>"'Indeed,' said the sick woman, 'I am very ill, dear madam, and I think
+that I cannot live longer than a few weeks; but God's will be done! I
+have no trouble in leaving this world but on account of little Marten;
+yet I<!-- Page 94 --> know that God will take care of him, and that I ought not to be
+troubled on his account.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Blake then answered:</p>
+
+<p>"'As you have begun to speak upon the subject, I will tell you what
+particularly brought me here to-day.'</p>
+
+<p>"She then told her that, as she and Mr. Blake had a large fortune and
+no family, they were willing to take little Marten at her death and
+provide for him as their own. This was a very great and kind offer, and
+most people would have accepted it with joy; but the pious mother
+recollected that Mr. Blake was one who declared himself to be without
+religion; and she could not think of leaving her little boy to such a
+man. Accordingly she thanked Mrs. Blake for her kind offer&mdash;for a very
+kind offer it was&mdash;and said that she should feel obliged to her till
+her dying moment.</p>
+
+<p>"'But,' added she, 'I cannot accept of your friendship for my little
+boy, as I have a very dear Friend who would be disobliged if I did so.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Blake turned red, and was offended; for she had never once
+thought it possible that Marten's mother should refuse her offer; and
+Mrs. Short lifted up her hands and eyes, and looked as if she thought
+the poor sick woman little better than a fool.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well,' said Mrs. Blake, 'I am surprised, I must confess. However, you
+must know your own affairs best; but this I must say, that I think
+Marten may live long enough without having such another offer.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And I must say that you are standing in the child's way,' said Mrs.
+Short. 'Why, Mr. Blake can do ten times more for the child than his
+father could have done, had he lived a hundred years; and I think it
+very ungrateful and foolish in you to make such a return for Mr. and
+Mrs. Blake's kindness.'<!-- Page 95 --></p>
+
+<p>"'And pray,' said Mrs. Blake, 'who is this dear Friend who would be so
+much disobliged by your allowing us to take the boy?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I suppose it is Squire Broom,' said Mrs. Short; 'for who else can it
+be?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' said Mrs. Blake, 'I have no doubt it is, for Mr. Broom never
+loved my husband. But,' added she, looking at Marten's mother, 'you do
+very wrong if you think Mr. Broom could do as much for the child (even
+if he were willing) as my husband. Mr. Broom is not rich, and he has a
+great many children; whereas Mr. Blake has a very handsome fortune, and
+no near relation in the world. However, as you have once refused, I do
+not think I would take the boy now if you were to ask me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am very sorry,' answered Marten's mother, 'to appear unthankful to
+you; and perhaps, as I am a dying woman, I ought to tell you the true
+reason of my refusing your offer, though it may make you angry. I do
+not doubt but that you would be kind to little Marten, and I know that
+you have more to give him than his father could have had.'</p>
+
+<p>"She then, in a very delicate manner, hinted at Mr. Blake's irreligious
+opinions, and acknowledged that it was on the account of these that she
+had refused his protection for her son.</p>
+
+<p>"'The Lord Jesus Christ,' added she, 'is the dear Friend I spoke of, my
+dear madam, and the One I am afraid to offend by accepting Mr. Blake's
+offer. You are welcome to tell Mr. Blake all I say.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Blake made no answer, but got up, and, wishing Marten's mother
+and Mrs. Short a good-morning, went away very much offended.</p>
+
+<p>"When Mrs. Short was left with the sick woman she failed not to speak
+her mind to her, and that very plainly,<!-- Page 96 --> by telling her that she
+considered her little better than a fool for what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Marten's mother answered: 'I am willing to be counted a fool for
+Christ's sake.'</p>
+
+<p>"The next day Marten's mother sent for Squire Broom; and when she had
+told him all that had passed between herself and Mrs. Blake, she asked
+him if he would take charge of poor little Marten when she was dead,
+and also of what little money she might leave behind her; and see that
+the child was put to a good school. Squire Broom promised that he would
+be a friend to the boy to the best of his power, and Marten's mother
+was sure that he would do what he promised, for he was a good man. And
+now, not to make our story too long, I must tell you that Marten's
+mother grew weaker and weaker, and about three weeks after she had had
+this conversation with Mrs. Blake she was found one morning dead in her
+bed; and it was supposed she died without pain, as Susan, the maid, who
+slept in the same room, had not heard her move or utter a sigh. She was
+buried in Tenterden churchyard, and Squire Broom, as he had promised,
+took charge of all her affairs.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, after having done with little Marten's good mother, I shall
+give you the history of the little boy himself, from the day when he
+was awoke and found his poor mother dead; and you shall judge whether
+God heard his mother's prayer, and whether He took care of the poor
+little orphan.</p>
+
+<p>"Marten's mother was buried on Saturday evening. On Sunday little
+Marten went and stood by his mother's grave, and no one but Susan could
+persuade him to come away. On Monday morning Squire Broom came in a
+one-horse chaise to take him to school at Ashford. The master of the
+school at that time was a conscientious man but<!-- Page 97 --> Squire Broom did not
+know that he was so severe in the management of children as he proved
+to be.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Marten cried very much when he was put into the one-horse
+chaise with Squire Broom.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, let me stay with Susan! let me live with Susan!' he said.</p>
+
+<p>"'What!' said Squire Broom, 'and never learn to read? You must go to
+school to learn to read, and other things a man should know.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Susan shall teach me to read,' said little Marten.</p>
+
+<p>"Squire Broom promised him that he should come back in the summer, and
+see Susan, and little Marten tried to stop crying.</p>
+
+<p>"When little Marten got to Ashford school he was turned into a large
+stone hall, where about fifty boys were playing; he had never seen so
+many boys before, and he was frightened, and he crept into a corner.
+They all got round him, and asked him a great many questions, which
+frightened him more; and he began to cry and call for Susan. This set
+the boys a-laughing, and they began to pull him about and tease him.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Marten was a pretty child; he was very fair, and had beautiful
+blue eyes and red lips, and his dark brown hair curled all over his
+head; but he had always been very tender in his health; and the
+kickings and thumpings and beatings he got amongst the boys, instead of
+making him hardy, made him the more sickly and drooping.</p>
+
+<p>"The boys used to rise very early, and, after they had been an hour in
+school, they played in the churchyard (for the schoolroom stands in the
+churchyard) till the bell rang to call them to breakfast. In the
+schoolroom there was only one fireplace, and the lesser boys could
+never get near it, so that little Marten used to be so numbed with cold
+in the mornings (for winter was coming) that he<!-- Page 98 --> could scarcely hold
+his book; and his feet and hands became so swelled with chilblains
+that, when the other boys went out to play, he could only creep after
+them. He was so stupefied with cold that he could not learn; he even
+forgot his letters, though he had known them all when his mother was
+alive; and, in consequence, he got several floggings. When his mother
+was living he was a cheerful little fellow, full of play, and quick in
+learning; but now he became dull and cast down, and he refused to eat;
+and he would cry and fret if anyone did but touch him. His poor little
+feet and hands were sore and bleeding with cold; so that he was afraid
+anyone should come near to touch him.</p>
+
+<p>"As the winter advanced it became colder and colder, and little Marten
+got a very bad cough, and grew very thin. Several people remarked to
+the schoolmaster, 'Little Marten is not well; he gets very thin.' 'Oh,
+he will be better,' the master would answer, 'when he is more used to
+us. Many children, when they first come to school, pine after home; but
+what can I do for him? I must not make any difference between him and
+the other boys.'</p>
+
+<p>"One morning in the beginning of December, when the boys were playing
+in the churchyard before breakfast, little Marten, not being able to
+run, or scarcely to walk, by reason of his chilblains, came creeping
+after them; his lips were blue and cold, and his cheeks white. He
+looked about for some place where he might be sheltered a little from
+the cold wind; and at length he ventured to creep into the porch of an
+old house, which stood on one side of the churchyard. The door of the
+house was open a little way, and Marten peeped in: he saw within a
+small neat kitchen, where was a bright fire; an elderly maid-servant
+was preparing breakfast before the fire; the tea-kettle was<!-- Page 99 --><!-- Page 100 --><!-- Page 101 --> boiling;
+and the toast-and-butter and muffins stood ready to be carried into the
+parlour. A large old cat slept before the fire; and in one corner of
+the kitchen was a parrot upon a stand.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst Marten was peeping in, and longing for a bit of
+toast-and-butter, <a name="page_101a_text"></a>a little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown,
+wearing a mob-cap and long ruffles, came into the kitchen by the inner
+door. She first spoke to the parrot, then stroked the cat; and then,
+turning towards the porch-door, she said (speaking to the maid):</p>
+
+<a name="image_99"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/99.png" border="0"
+ width="460" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>A little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown, came
+into the kitchen.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_101a_text">Page 101</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"'Hannah, why do you leave the door open? The wind comes in very cold.'
+So saying, she was going to push the door to, when she saw poor little
+Marten. She observed his black coat, his little bleeding hands, and his
+pale face, and she felt very sorry for him. 'What little fellow are
+you?' she said, as she held the door in her hand. 'Where do you come
+from, and what do you want at my door?'</p>
+
+<p>"'My name is Marten,' he answered, 'and I am very cold.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you belong to the school, my dear?' said she.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, ma'am,' he answered; 'my mother is dead, and I am very cold.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Poor little creature!' said the old lady, whose name was Lovel. 'Do
+you hear what he says, Hannah? His mother is dead, and he is very cold!
+Do, Hannah, run over to the school-house, and ask the master if he will
+give this little boy leave to stay and breakfast with me.'</p>
+
+<p>"Hannah set down a tea-cup which she was wiping, and looking at Marten:</p>
+
+<p>"'Poor young creature!' she said. 'It is a pity that such a babe as
+this should be in a public school. Come in, little one, whilst I run
+over to your master and ask leave for you to stay a little with my
+mistress.'<!-- Page 102 --></p>
+
+<p>"Hannah soon returned with the master's leave, and poor little Marten
+went gladly upstairs into Mrs. Lovel's parlour. There Mrs. Lovel took
+off his wet shoes and damp stockings, and hung them to the fire, while
+she rubbed his little numbed feet till they were warm. In the meantime
+Hannah brought up the tea-things and toast-and-butter, and set all
+things in order upon the round table.</p>
+
+<p>"'You are very good,' said little Marten to Mrs. Lovel; 'I will come
+and see you every day.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You shall come as often as you please,' said Mrs. Lovel, 'if you are
+a good little boy.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Then I will come at breakfast-time, and at dinner-time, and at
+supper-time,' said Marten.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lovel smiled and looked at Hannah, who was bringing up the
+cream-pot, followed by the cat. Puss took her place very gravely at one
+corner of the table, without touching anything.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is that your cat, ma'am?' said Marten.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' said Mrs. Lovel; 'and see how well she behaves: she never asks
+for anything, but waits till she is served. Do you think you can behave
+as well?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I will try, ma'am,' said Marten.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lovel then bade Marten fetch himself a chair, and they both sat
+down to breakfast. Marten behaved so well at breakfast that Mrs. Lovel
+invited him to come to her at dinner-time, and said she would send
+Hannah to his master for leave. She then put on his dry shoes and
+stockings; and as the bell rang, she sent him over to school. When
+school broke up at twelve o'clock, she sent Hannah again for him; and
+he came running upstairs, full of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"'This is a half-holiday, ma'am,' he said, 'and I may stay with you
+till bed-time: and I will come again to breakfast in the morning.'<!-- Page 103 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Very well,' said Mrs. Lovel; 'but if you come here so often you must
+do everything I bid you, and everything which Hannah bids you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'The same as I did to my poor mother, and to Susan?' said Marten.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, my dear,' said Mrs. Lovel.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then I will, ma'am,' said Marten.</p>
+
+<p>"So Marten sat down to dinner with Mrs. Lovel; and at dinner he told
+her all he knew of himself and his mother; and after dinner, when she
+gave him leave, he went down to the kitchen to visit Hannah, and to
+talk to the parrot, and to look about him till tea-time. At tea-time he
+came up again; and after tea Mrs. Lovel brought out a large Bible full
+of pictures, and told him one or two stories out of the Bible, showing
+him the pictures. At night Hannah carried him home, and he went warm
+and comfortable to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lovel grew every day fonder of little Marten; and, as the little
+boy promised, he went to Mrs. Lovel's at breakfast, dinner, and supper;
+and Mrs. Lovel took the same care of him as his mother would have done,
+had she been living. She took charge of his clothes, mending them when
+they wanted it; prepared warm and soft woollen stockings for him,
+procured him a great-coat to wear in school, and got him some thick
+shoes to play in. She also would see that he learned his lessons well
+every day, to carry up to his master: she then practised him in reading
+out of school hours, so that it was surprising how quickly he now got
+on with his books. But the best of all was, that Mrs. Lovel from day to
+day gave such holy teaching to little Marten as was best adapted to
+make him a good man in after-life; and God blessed her teaching, and
+the boy soon became all that she could desire.</p>
+
+<p>"A little before Christmas, Squire Broom came over to<!-- Page 104 --> Ashford to see
+little Marten, and determined in his own mind, if he saw the child
+unwell, or not happy, to take him home and bring him up amongst his own
+children; for Mrs. Broom had said that she thought little Marten almost
+too young to be at a public school, without a friend near him. Marten
+was standing in Mrs. Lovel's parlour window, which looked into the
+churchyard, when he saw Squire Broom's one-horse chaise draw up to the
+school-house door. Without speaking a word, he ran downstairs, and
+across the churchyard; and, taking Squire Broom's hand, as he stepped
+out of the chaise:</p>
+
+<p>"'I have got another mother, sir,' he said, 'a very good mother; and I
+love her with all my heart; and her name is Lovel; and you must come to
+see her.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, my little man,' said Squire Broom, 'you look very well, and
+quite fat.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Squire Broom heard from the master what a kind friend Marten had
+found, and was told by all his friends in Ashford what a worthy woman
+Mrs. Lovel was (everybody in Ashford knew Mrs. Lovel's good character),
+he was very much pleased on little Marten's account, and said his poor
+mother's prayers were now answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Marten could not be contented till he had brought Squire Broom
+to see Mrs. Lovel, and to drink tea with her. During this visit, Mrs.
+Lovel asked Mr. Broom if Marten might spend his Christmas holidays with
+her; and from that time the little boy spent all his holidays with Mrs.
+Lovel. In the summer holidays she often took him to a farmhouse in the
+country, where she had lodgings; and there he had the pleasure of
+seeing the haymaking, and hop-gathering, and all the country work, and
+of running about the fields. Once or twice she took him to Tenterden to
+see his old friends, particularly Susan, who lived with her mother in
+Tenterden.<!-- Page 105 --></p>
+
+<p>"Marten became a fine boy; and as he grew in stature he grew in grace.
+He was very fond of reading; and soon he became one of the best
+scholars of his age in the school. As Mrs. Lovel got older, her eyes
+became dim; and then Marten read to her, and managed her accounts, and
+was in all things as a dutiful son to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Marten continued with Mrs. Lovel till it was time he should leave
+school; and as he wished to become a clergyman, in order that he might
+spend his life in the service of God, Mrs. Lovel paid for his going to
+the University.</p>
+
+<p>"When Marten had been the proper time at the University, he was
+ordained a clergyman; and he then returned to Mrs. Lovel, and soon
+afterwards he got a living in a pretty village in Kent. There he went
+to reside; and Mrs. Lovel, who was now become very old indeed, lived
+with him. He was as kind to her, and to Hannah, as if he had been their
+own child: and, indeed, it was but his duty to be so: he did everything
+to make their last years happy, and their deaths easy. Mrs. Lovel left
+all she had, when she died, to Marten; so that he was enabled to live
+in great comfort. Some time after Mrs. Lovel's death, he married Squire
+Broom's youngest daughter, who made him a kind and good wife, and
+helped him to bring up their children well. Susan, who was now an
+elderly woman, took the place of Hannah when Hannah died, and never
+left her master till she herself died of old age."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>By this time it was one o'clock; and the haymakers left off their work,
+and sat down in a row, by the brook-side, to eat their dinner. Mr.
+Fairchild called to his children from the place where he was lying, at
+a little distance, saying:<!-- Page 106 --></p>
+
+<p>"My dears, I begin to feel hungry. Lucy and Emily, see what Betty
+brought in the basket this morning; and you, Henry, go to the brook,
+and bring some water."</p>
+
+<p>So Henry took an empty pitcher out of the basket, and ran gaily down to
+the brook to fetch some water, whilst Lucy and Emily spread a clean
+napkin on the grass, on which they placed the knives and forks and
+plates, with the loaf and cheese, and the fruit-pie, and a bottle of
+beer for their papa; for Betty was gone back to the house; and when
+they had said grace, they dined: after which the children went to play
+in the coppice and amongst the hay, for a little while. When they had
+played as much as their mamma thought fit, they came back, and sat down
+to work, as they had done in the morning, whilst Henry read the story
+in Lucy's book.</p>
+
+<a name="image_106"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<img src="images/106.png" border="0" width="232" height="418" ALT="Marten goes to school"></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 107 -->
+<h3><a name="The_History_of_Little_Henri" id="The_History_of_Little_Henri"></a>The History of Little Henri; or, The Good Son</h3>
+
+<a name="image_107"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/107.png" border="0" width="582" height="318" ALT="Henri stood at the window"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"Every</span> person who lives in England has heard of France. A small arm of
+the sea parts this country from France; but though a person may pass
+from England to France in a few hours, yet there is a great difference
+in the manners and customs of the French and English. A few years ago
+the French were governed by a king who had so much power, that, if he
+did not like any person, he could condemn him to be shut up for life at
+his pleasure, and nobody dared to inquire after him. The religion of
+the French was, and still is, Roman Catholic.</p>
+
+<p>"About one hundred and fifty years ago, there lived in France a certain
+great man, called the Baron of Bellemont: he was a proud man, and very
+rich; and his castle stood in one of the beautiful valleys of the
+Pyrenees, not far from the dwelling-places of those holy people the
+Waldenses."<!-- Page 108 --></p>
+
+<p>"What are Waldenses, mamma?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "many hundred years ago, when
+many of the nations of Europe were very wicked, a certain set of
+persons retired from the sight of the rest of mankind, and hid
+themselves in valleys amongst hills, where they led innocent and holy
+lives. These people, in some places, were called <i>Waldenses</i>; in
+others, <i>Valdenses</i>; and some were called <i>The poor Men of Lyons</i>,
+because there was a city called Lyons near their dwelling-places."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"The Baron de Bellemont," continued Henry, reading again, "lived in a
+castle not far from the valley of the Waldenses. He had one daughter,
+of the name of Adelaide, who was very beautiful; and as she was to have
+much of her father's riches at his death, everybody flattered and
+seemed to admire her, and many rich and great men in France sought to
+marry her. The Baron had also a poor niece living with him, named
+Maria. Maria was not handsome, and she was poor; therefore, nobody who
+came to the castle took any notice of her: and her cousin Adelaide
+treated her more like a servant than a relation. Maria had been nursed
+among the Waldenses, and had learned, with God's blessing, all the holy
+doctrines of these people from her nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"When Adelaide and Maria were about twenty years of age, they were both
+married. Adelaide was married to the young Marquis de Roseville, one of
+the handsomest and richest men in France, and went to live in Paris
+with her husband, where she was introduced to the court of the king,
+and lived amongst the greatest and gayest people in France."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Where is Paris, mamma?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "that<!-- Page 109 --> London is the
+chief town of England, and the residence of the Queen: in like manner,
+Paris is the chief town of France, and the Emperor of France's palace
+is in Paris."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Maria's husband," continued Henry, "was one of the pastors of the
+Waldenses, of the name of Claude: he lived in a small and neat cottage
+in a beautiful valley; he was a holy young man, and all his time and
+thoughts were given up to teaching his people and serving his God.
+Maria was much happier in her little cottage with her kind husband than
+she had been in the castle of the Baron. She kept her house clean, and
+assisted her husband in dressing their little garden and taking care of
+a few goats, which afforded them abundance of milk.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marchioness of Roseville had been married twelve months she
+brought the Marquis a son, to whom his parents gave the name of
+Theodore. This child was so beautiful that he was spoken of in Paris as
+a wonder, and his parents, who were very proud and vain before, became
+more and more so. All the Marchioness's love seemed to be fixed upon
+this child, so that when, at the end of two years more, she had a
+second son born, she showed no affection whatever for him, although he
+was a lovely infant, not less beautiful than his brother, and of a
+tender and delicate constitution.</p>
+
+<p>"When this little infant, who was called Henri, was little more than
+two months old, the Marquis and Marchioness undertook a journey to the
+Castle of Bellemont, to visit the old Baron, bringing their two sons
+with them. The fatigue of the journey was almost too much for poor
+little Henri, who, when he arrived at his grandfather's castle, was so
+ill that it was supposed he could not live; but his mother, having no
+love but for the eldest<!-- Page 110 --> child, did not appear to be in the least
+troubled by Henri's sickness.</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as Maria heard of her cousin's arrival at Bellemont she
+hastened over to see her, though she did not expect to be very kindly
+received. Maria, by this time, had two children, the youngest of which
+was more than a year old, and a very healthy child. When this kind
+woman saw poor little Henri, and found that his parents did not love
+him, she begged her cousin to allow her to take the poor infant to her
+cottage in the valleys, where she promised to take great care of him,
+and to be as a tender mother to him. The Marchioness was glad to be
+freed from the charge of the sick child, and Maria was equally glad to
+have the poor baby to comfort. Accordingly, she took the little Henri
+home with her, and he was brought up amongst her own children.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marquis and Marchioness had remained a while at the Castle of
+Bellemont, they returned with their favourite Theodore to Paris; and
+there they delivered themselves up to all the vicious habits of that
+dissipated place. The Marchioness never stayed at home a single day,
+but spent her whole time in visiting, dancing, and playing at cards,
+and going to public gardens, plays, and musical entertainments. She
+painted her face, and dressed herself in every kind of rich and vain
+ornament, and tried to set herself off for admiration; but she had
+little regard for her husband, and never thought of God. She was bold
+in her manners, fond of herself, and hardhearted to everybody else. The
+only person for whom she seemed to care was her son Theodore; for as
+for little Henri, she seemed to have forgotten that she had such a
+child; but she delighted in seeing her handsome Theodore well dressed,
+and encouraged him to prattle before company, and to show himself off
+in public places, even when<!-- Page 111 --> he was but an infant. She employed the
+most famous artists in Paris to draw his picture; she hired
+dancing-masters to teach him to carry himself well, and music-masters
+to teach him to sing and play; and sometimes, when he was to go out
+with her, she herself arranged his glossy hair, in order that he might
+look the handsomer. She employed many servants to attend upon him, and
+commanded them never to contradict him, but to do everything to please
+him. As she continued to lead this life she became every year more and
+more bold, and more hardened in wickedness; so that, from beginning to
+be careless about God, she proceeded in time to mock at religion. Nor
+was the Marquis any better than his wife; he was proud and quarrelsome,
+and loved no one but himself. He spent all his time amongst a set of
+wicked young men of his own rank; they sat up all night drinking and
+swearing and playing at cards for large sums of money.</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner they went on till Theodore was as much as fifteen years
+of age. In the meantime the old Baron had died and left all his money
+to his daughter; but the Marquis and Marchioness were none the better
+for all the riches left them by the Baron, for they became more and
+more wasteful, and more and more wicked.</p>
+
+<p>"About this time the King, who was a very wicked man, began to talk of
+driving the Waldenses out of their pleasant valleys, or forcing them to
+become Roman Catholics. He consulted the great men in Paris about it;
+and they gave it as their opinion that it would be right either to make
+them become Roman Catholics, or drive them out of the country. The
+Marquis, among the rest, gave his opinion against the Waldenses; never
+considering that he had a relation amongst them, and that his little
+son Henri was at that very time living with them.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst these things were being talked of in the King's<!-- Page 112 --> palace,
+Theodore was seized with a violent fever, and before anything could be
+done for him, or his father or mother had any time for consideration,
+the poor boy died. The Marchioness was like a distracted woman when
+Theodore died; she screamed and tore her hair, and the Marquis, to
+drive away the thoughts of his grief, went more and more into company,
+drinking and playing at cards. When the grief of the Marquis and
+Marchioness for the loss of their beautiful Theodore was a little
+abated, they began to turn their thoughts towards their son Henri, and
+they resolved to send for him. Accordingly, the Marquis sent a trusty
+servant to the valley of Piedmont, to bring Henri to Paris. The servant
+carried a letter from the Marquis to the Pastor Claude, thanking him
+for his kind attention to the child, and requesting him to send him
+immediately to Paris. The servant also carried a handsome sum of money
+as a present from the Marquis to Claude; which Claude, however, would
+not take.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst all these things of which I have been telling you were
+happening at Paris, little Henri had been growing up in the humble yet
+pleasant cottage of Maria and the pious Claude. During the first years
+of his infancy he had been very delicate and tender, and no one would
+have reared him who had not loved him as tenderly as Maria had done;
+but from the time that she first saw him in the Castle of Bellemont,
+she had loved him with all the love of the tenderest mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Henri was very beautiful, though always pale, never having very strong
+health. He always had the greatest fear of doing anything which might
+displease God; he was gentle and humble to all around him, and to his
+little cousins, the sons of Claude, he was most affectionate and mild.
+When they were old enough, these three little boys used to go with the
+Pastor Claude when he went to visit<!-- Page 113 --> his poor people in their little
+cottages among the valleys; and heard him read and pray with them. Thus
+they acquired, when very young, such a knowledge of God, and of the
+Holy Bible, as might have put to shame many older people.</p>
+
+<p>"Many of the cottages which Claude and his little boys used to visit
+were placed in spots of ground so beautiful that they would have
+reminded you of the Garden of Eden; some in deep and shady valleys,
+where the brooks of clear water ran murmuring among groves of trees and
+over mossy banks; some on high lawns on the sides of the mountains,
+where the eagles and mountain birds found shelter in the lofty forest
+trees; some of these cottages stood on the brows of rugged rocks, which
+jutted out from the side of the hills, on spots so steep and high that
+Claude's own little stout boys could scarcely climb them; and Claude
+was often obliged to carry little Henri up these steeps in his arms. In
+these different situations were flowers of various colours and of
+various kinds, and many beautiful trees, besides birds innumerable and
+wild animals of various sorts. Claude knew the names and natures of all
+these; and he often passed the time, as he walked, in teaching these
+things to his children. Neither did he neglect, as they got older, to
+give them such instructions as they could get from books. He taught his
+little boys first to read French, and afterwards he made them well
+acquainted with Latin and the history of ancient times, particularly
+the history of such holy people as have lived and died in the service
+of God&mdash;the saints and martyrs of old days. He also taught his little
+boys to write; and they could sing sweetly many of the old hymns and
+psalms which from time immemorial had been practised among the
+Waldenses.</p>
+
+<p>"Claude's own little sons were obliged to do many<!-- Page 114 --> homely household
+jobs, to help their mother. They used to fetch the goats to the cottage
+door, along the hill-side path, and milk them and feed them; they used
+to weed the garden, and often to sweep the house and make up the fire.
+In all these things little Henri was as forward as the rest, though the
+son of one of the greatest men in France. But though this family were
+obliged to labour at the lowest work, yet they practised towards each
+other the most courteous and gentle manners.</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner Henri was brought up amongst the Waldenses till he was
+more than twelve years of age, at which time the servant came from his
+father, the Marquis, to bring him to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marquis's letter arrived, all the little family in the Pastor
+Claude's house were full of grief.</p>
+
+<p>"'You must go, my dear child,' said the Pastor; 'you must go, my
+beloved Henri, for the Marquis is your father, and you must obey him;
+but oh! my heart aches when I think of the hard trials and temptations
+to which you will be exposed in the wicked world.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yet I have confidence,' said Maria, wiping away her tears; 'I have
+prayed for this boy&mdash;this my dear boy; I have prayed for him a thousand
+and a thousand times; and I know that he is given to us: this our child
+will not be lost; I know he will not. He will be able to do all things
+well, Christ strengthening him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Maria!' said the Pastor Claude, 'your faith puts me to shame; why
+should I doubt the goodness of God any more than you do?'</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime Henri's grief was so great that, for some hours after
+the servant came, he could not speak. He looked on his dear father and
+mother, as he always called Claude and Maria, and on their two boys,
+who were like brothers to him; he looked on the cottage where he<!-- Page 115 --> had
+spent so many happy days, and the woods and valleys and mountains,
+saying, beyond this he knew nothing; and he wished that he had been
+born Claude and Maria's child, and that he might be allowed to spend
+all his life, as Claude had done, in that delightful valley.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst Maria, with many tears, was preparing things for Henri's
+journey, the Pastor took the opportunity of talking privately to him,
+and giving him some advice which he hoped might be useful to him. He
+took the child by the hand, and leading him into a solitary path above
+the cottage, where they could walk unseen and unheard, he explained to
+him the dangerous situation into which he was about to enter; he told
+him, with as much tenderness as possible, what his father's and his
+mother's characters were; that they never knew the fear of God, and
+that they acted as most persons do who are rich and powerful, and who
+are not led by Divine grace; and he pointed out to him how he ought to
+behave to his parents, telling him that he must not be led away, but
+must persevere in well-doing. These, with many other things, the good
+Claude besought Henri always to have in remembrance, as he hoped to see
+his Redeemer in the land which is very far off; and he ended by giving
+him a little Bible, in a small velvet bag, which he had received from
+his own father, and which he had been accustomed to carry in his pocket
+in all his visits to his poor people. In these days, Bibles are so
+common that every little boy and girl may have one; but this was not
+the case in former days; Bibles were very scarce and very difficult to
+get; and this Henri knew, and therefore he knew how to value this
+present.</p>
+
+<p>"It would only trouble you were I to describe the sorrow of Claude's
+family when, the next morning, Henri, according to his father's orders,
+was dressed in a rich suit<!-- Page 116 --> of clothes, and set upon a horse, which was
+to carry him from among the mountains to the Castle of Bellemont, where
+the Marquis's carriage waited for him. Henri could not speak as the
+horses went down the valley, but the tears fell fast down his cheeks;
+every tree and every cottage which he passed, every pathway winding
+from the highroad among the hills, reminded him of some sweet walk
+taken with Claude and his sons, or with his dear foster-mother. As the
+road passed under one of the cottages which stood on the brow of a
+hill, Henri heard the notes of one of those sweet hymns which Maria had
+been accustomed to sing to him when he was a very little boy, and which
+she had afterwards taught him to sing himself. Henri's heart at that
+moment was ready to burst with grief, and though the servant was close
+to him, yet he broke out in these words:</p>
+
+<p>"'Farewell, farewell, sweet and happy home! Farewell, lovely, lovely
+hills! Farewell, beloved friends! I shall never, never see you again!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do not give way to grief, sir,' said the servant; 'you are going to
+be a great man; you will see all the fine things in Paris, and be
+brought before the King.'</p>
+
+<p>"The servant then gave him a long account of the grandeur and pleasures
+of Paris; but Henri did not hear one word he said, for he was listening
+to the last faint sounds of the hymn, as they became more and more
+distant.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing particular happened to Henri on his journey; and at the end of
+several days he arrived at the gates of his father's grand house at
+Paris. The Marchioness that evening (as was common with her) gave a
+ball and supper to a number of friends; and on this occasion the house
+was lighted up, and set off with all manner of ornaments. The company
+was just come, and the music<!-- Page 117 --> beginning to play, when Henri was brought
+into the hall. As soon as it was known who was come, the servants ran
+to tell the Marquis and Marchioness, and they ran into the hall to
+receive their son. The beauty of Henri, and his lovely mild look, could
+not but please and delight his parents, and they said to each other, as
+they kissed him and embraced him:</p>
+
+<p>"'How could we live so long a stranger to this charming child?'</p>
+
+<p>"His mother had expected that her son would have had an awkward and low
+appearance; she was, therefore, greatly surprised at his courteous and
+polite manners, which delighted her as much as his beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"All that evening Henri remained silent, modest, and serious, and as
+soon as his parents would give him leave, he asked to go to bed. He was
+shown into a room richly furnished, and so large that the whole of
+Claude's little cottage would have gone into it. The servant who
+attended him would have undressed him; but he begged to be left alone,
+saying he had been used to dress and undress himself. As soon as the
+servant was gone, he took out his Bible and read a chapter; after
+which, kneeling down, he prayed his Almighty Father to take care of him
+now, in this time of temptation, when he feared he might be drawn aside
+to forget his God.</p>
+
+<p>"The young son of the Marquis de Roseville did not awake early, having
+been much tired with his journey. When he had dressed, he was taken to
+breakfast in his mother's dressing-room; she was alone, as the Marquis
+had gone out after the ball the night before, and was not returned. The
+Marchioness kissed Henri, and made him sit down by her, showing him
+every proof of her love; nevertheless, everything he saw and heard made
+him wish himself back again in the cottage amongst the hills. He<!-- Page 118 --> could
+perceive by the daylight what he had not found out the night before,
+that his mother was painted white and red, and that she had a bold and
+fretful look, which made her large dark eyes quite terrible to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst the Marchioness and Henri sat at breakfast, she asked him a
+great many questions about his education and manner of life among the
+mountains. He did not hide anything from her, but told her that he
+never intended to become a Roman Catholic. She answered that there was
+time enough yet before he need trouble himself about religion.</p>
+
+<p>"'You have a long life before you, Henri,' she said, 'and have many
+pleasures to enjoy; it will be well enough to become devout when you
+are near death.'</p>
+
+<p>"'May not death be near now?' said Henri, looking very serious. 'Had my
+brother Theodore any greater reason to expect death than I have? And
+yet he was suddenly called away.'</p>
+
+<p>"The Marchioness looked grave for a moment; then smiled, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh Henri, Henri, how laughable it is to hear one at your age speaking
+so seriously! Yet everything sounds prettily out of your mouth,' she
+added, kissing him, 'for you are a charming boy. But come,' she said,
+'I will be dressed; and we will go out and pay visits, and I will show
+you something of this fine city.'</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marchioness was dressed, she and Henri went out in the
+carriage; and, returning at dinner-time, they found the Marquis at
+home: he looked pale and fatigued, but was pleased to embrace his son,
+with whom he seemed better and better satisfied as he saw more of him.</p>
+
+<p>"The next day a tutor was appointed for Henri: he was a Roman Catholic
+priest; but although he bore the character of a clergyman, he seemed to
+have no thought<!-- Page 119 --> of religion; he took great pains to teach Henri such
+things as he thought would please his father and mother, and make him
+appear clever before his fellow-creatures, but he had no desire to make
+him a good man. Besides this tutor, Henri had masters to teach him
+music and dancing and drawing, and all such things as were wont to be
+taught to the children of the great men at that time in France. Thus
+Henri's mornings were employed by attending on his masters; and his
+mother often in the evening took him out to pay visits, and to balls
+and public amusements. He was introduced several times to the King, and
+became acquainted with all the nobility in Paris. But, amongst all
+these worldly pleasures and enjoyments, God still held the heart of
+Henri; so that he took no delight in all these fine things, and would
+have preferred Claude's cottage to all the splendours of Paris.</p>
+
+<p>"When Henri had been in Paris about six months, it happened that one
+day his father went to the King's palace to pay his court: so it was,
+that something had vexed the King that day, and he did not receive the
+Marquis so cordially as he had been used to do. This affronted the
+Marquis so much (for he was a very proud man) that from that time he
+gave himself up altogether to abusing the King, and contriving how to
+do him mischief; and he invited to his house all the people of
+consequence in Paris who were discontented with the King: so that his
+house was filled with bad people, who were always contriving mischief
+against the King. These people used to meet almost every evening to sup
+at the Marquis's; and you would be shocked if I were to repeat to you
+the language which they used, and how they used to rail against their
+King. On these occasions they drank abundance of wine; after which they
+used to play at cards for large sums of money; and the Marquis and<!-- Page 120 -->
+Marchioness not being so clever in play as some others of the party,
+lost a great deal of money; so that what with their extravagance, and
+what with the money they lost at cards, they had almost wasted all they
+possessed, and were in debt to everybody who supplied them with
+anything.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Henri, although so young, understood very well the wicked way in
+which his father and mother went on; and though he did not dare to
+speak to his father about the manner of life he led, yet he spoke
+several times to his mother. Sometimes the Marchioness would laugh at
+Henri when he talked to her in this way; and sometimes she would be
+quite angry, and tell him that he was meddling with things he could not
+understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Abusing the King, and forming schemes against the Government, are
+called treason. It was not long before the treasonable practices of the
+Marquis, and the bad company he kept, were made known to the King, who,
+one night, without giving notice to anyone, sent certain persons with a
+guard to seize the Marquis, and convey him to a strong castle in a very
+distant part of France, where he was to be confined for life; at the
+same time the King gave orders to seize all the Marquis's property for
+his own use. It was one night in the spring, just after the Marquis's
+wicked companions had taken their leave, that the persons sent by the
+King rushed into the Marquis's house, and making him a prisoner in the
+name of the King, forced him into a carriage, with his wife and son,
+scarcely giving them time to gather together a little linen, and a few
+other necessary things, to take with them: amongst these, Henri did not
+forget his little Bible, and an old Book of Martyrs, which he had
+bought at a bookstall a few days before.</p>
+
+<p>"The Marquis and his family, well guarded, were hurried away so fast
+that before the dawn of morning they were some miles from Paris. The
+Marquis then asked<!-- Page 121 --> the person who rode by the carriage where they were
+taking him: they answered that his plots against the King had been
+found out, and that he was going to be put into a place where it would
+be out of his power to execute any of his mischievous purposes. On
+hearing this, the Marquis broke out into a violent rage, abusing the
+King, and calling him every vile name he could think of; after which he
+became sullen, and continued so to the end of his journey. The
+Marchioness cried almost without ceasing, calling herself the most
+miserable of women, and wishing she had never seen the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"At the end of several days, towards the evening, they entered into a
+deep road between two high hills, which were so near each other that
+from one hill the cottages and little gardens and sheepfolds, with the
+cows and sheep feeding, might be plainly seen on the other. As they
+went on farther, they saw a little village on the right hand among some
+trees; and, above the village, a large old castle, with high walls and
+towers, and an immense gateway with an iron gate.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marquis saw the castle he groaned, for he supposed that this
+was the place in which he was to be confined; and the Marchioness broke
+out afresh in crying and lamenting herself; but Henri said not one
+word. The carriage took the road straight to the castle, and the guard
+kept close, as if they were afraid the Marquis should strive to get
+away. They passed through the little village, and then saw the great
+gate of the castle right before them higher up the hill. It was almost
+dusk before the carriage stopped at the castle gate; and the guards
+called to the porter (that is, the man who has the care of the gate) to
+open the gate, and call the Governor of the castle. When the porter
+opened the gate, the guard took the Marquis out of the carriage, and,
+all<!-- Page 122 --> gathering close round him, led him through the gates into the
+outer court of the castle, which was surrounded by dark high buildings;
+Henri and his mother following. From thence he went through another
+gate, and up a number of stone steps, till they came to an immense
+hall, so big that it looked like a large old church; from the roof of
+this hall hung several lamps, which were burning, for it was now quite
+dark. There the Governor of the castle, a respectable-looking old
+officer, with a band of soldiers, met the Marquis, and received him
+into his charge. He spoke civilly to the Marquis, and kindly to Henri
+and his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"'Do not afflict yourself, madam,' he said: 'I am the King's servant,
+and must obey the King's orders; but if I find that you and the Marquis
+are patient under your punishment, I shall make you as comfortable as
+my duty to the King will allow.'</p>
+
+<p>"To this kind speech the Marchioness only answered by breaking out like
+a child, crying afresh; and the Marquis was so sullen that he would not
+speak at all; but Henri, running up and kissing the hand of the old
+gentleman, said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, sir, God will reward you for your kindness to my poor father and
+mother: you must pardon them if they are not able to speak.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You are a fine boy,' said the old gentleman; 'and it is a pity that
+at your age you should share your parents' punishment, and be shut up
+in this place.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Where my father and mother are,' answered Henri, 'I shall be best
+contented, sir; I do not wish to be parted from them.'</p>
+
+<p><a name="tn_pg_158"></a><!-- TN: Original has a double plus a single quote here-->"The Governor looked pleased with Henri; and giving his orders to his
+soldiers, they took up a lamp, and led the poor Marquis to the room
+where he was to be shut up for<!-- Page 123 --> the remainder of his life. They led him
+through many large rooms, and up several flights of stone steps, till
+they came to the door of a gallery, at which a sentinel stood; the
+sentinel opened the door, and the Marquis was led along the gallery to
+a second door, which was barred with iron bars. Whilst the soldiers
+were unbarring this door, the Marquis groaned, and wished he had never
+been born; and the poor Marchioness was obliged to lean upon Henri, or
+she would have fallen to the ground. When the iron-barred door was
+opened, the guard told the Marquis and his family to walk forward: 'For
+this,' said they, 'is your room.' Accordingly, the Marquis and his wife
+and Henri went on into the room, whilst the guard shut and barred the
+door behind them. One little lamp, hanging from the top of the room,
+but high above their reach (for the rooms in those old castles are in
+general very lofty), was all the light they had: by this light they
+could just distinguish a large grated window, a fireplace, a table,
+some chairs, and two beds placed in different corners of the room.
+However, the unhappy family offered not to go near the beds; but the
+Marquis and Marchioness, throwing themselves on the ground, began to
+rail at each other and at the King. Poor Henri endeavoured to soothe
+and comfort them; but they pushed him from them, like people in a
+frenzy, saying, 'Go, go! Would to God you were in your grave with your
+brother Theodore!' Henri withdrew to a distance, and, kneeling down in
+a dark part of the room, he began to pray; till, being quite weary, he
+fell fast asleep on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"When Henri awoke, he was surprised to find it was daylight; he sat up
+and looked around him on the prison-room; it was a large and airy room,
+receiving light from a window strongly grated with iron. In two corners
+of the room were two old-fashioned but clean and comfortable-<!-- Page 124 -->looking
+beds; opposite the beds were a chimney-piece and hearth for burning
+wood; and several old-fashioned chairs and a table stood against the
+wall; there were also in the room two doors, which led into small
+closets.</p>
+
+<p>"Henri's poor father and mother had fallen asleep on the floor, after
+having wearied themselves with their violent grief; the Marquis had
+made a pillow of his cloak, and the Marchioness of a small bundle which
+she had brought in her hand out of the carriage. Henri looked at them
+till his eyes were full of tears; they looked pale and sorrowful even
+in their sleep. He got up gently, for fear of disturbing his poor
+parents, and went to the window: the air from the opposite hill blew
+sweet and fresh in at the casement; it reminded Henri of the air which
+he used to breathe in Claude's cottage. The window was exceedingly high
+from the court of the castle; so that the little village below, and the
+opposite green hill, with its cottages and flocks and herds, were all
+to be seen from thence above the walls of the court.</p>
+
+<p>"'What reason have we to be thankful!' said Henri; 'I was afraid my
+poor father might have been shut down in a dismal vault, without light
+and fresh air. If the Governor of the castle will but allow us to stay
+here, and give us only bread and water, we may be happy; and I have my
+little Bible, and my Book of Martyrs.'</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst Henri stood at the window, he heard someone unbar the door; and
+an old man came in with a basket, in which was a comfortable breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have orders,' said he, 'from my lord the Governor, to give you
+everything which is convenient.'</p>
+
+<p>"'God bless your lord,' said Henri; and he begged the old man to return
+his thanks to him.</p>
+
+<p>"'I shall come again presently,' said the old man,<!-- Page 125 --> 'and bring you the
+things which you brought with you in the carriage.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Your lord the Governor is a kind man,' said Henri.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' said the old man, 'and if your noble father will but make
+himself contented, and not try to get away, he will have nothing to
+complain of here, and you would do well to tell him so. My young
+gentleman, excuse an old man for giving his advice.'</p>
+
+<p>"Henri went up to the old man, and, taking his hand, thanked him for
+his kindness.</p>
+
+<p>"When the old man was gone, Henri, full of joy and thankfulness, began
+to take the things out of the basket, and to set them in order upon the
+table; and now Henri found the use of having been brought up to wait
+upon himself and upon others; he soon set out the little table in the
+neatest way, and set a chair for each of his parents; and all this so
+quietly that the poor Marquis and Marchioness did not wake till he had
+done. The Marchioness first opened her eyes, and looked round her.
+Henri ran to her, and kissing her, said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Dear mother, see what comforts we have still got! We are fallen into
+good hands; look around on this room, how light, how airy, and how
+pleasant it is!'</p>
+
+<p>"Henri then told her all the kindness of the Governor, and showed her
+the breakfast prepared for them; but she still looked sullen and
+unthankful, and began to blame the Marquis, as he lay asleep, as the
+cause of all her affliction.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, mother, dear mother!' cried Henri. 'Look at my poor father; how
+pale he looks, and how he sighs in his sleep! You once loved him, dear
+mother; oh now, love him again, and comfort him in his trouble!'</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner Henri talked to his mother, till she<!-- Page 126 --> broke out into
+tears, and putting her arms round his neck:</p>
+
+<p>"'My child, my Henri,' she said, 'you are too good for me!'</p>
+
+<p>"Yet still Henri could not persuade her to take any breakfast; she
+placed herself in a chair in a corner of the room, and, leaning her
+head upon her hands, continued crying without ceasing.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marquis awoke, Henri endeavoured to comfort him, as he had
+done his mother; the Marquis embraced him, and called him his beloved
+child and only comfort, but he complained that he was ill, and put his
+hand to his head. Henri brought him a cup of coffee, which he made him
+drink; and the old man coming in with the linen and other things which
+had been brought from Paris, they put some clean linen on the Marquis,
+and the old man and Henri assisted him to bed. The Marquis continued to
+get worse, and before night he was in a violent fever. This fever
+continued many days, and brought him very near to death. Whilst this
+illness lasted Henri never left him, and the Governor of the castle not
+only provided him with everything he wanted, but brought a doctor from
+the village to see him.</p>
+
+<p>"For many days the poor Marquis did not seem to know anything that
+passed, or to know where he was, or who was with him, but seemed in
+great horror of mind, expressing great dread of death; but when his
+fever left him, though he was very weak, he recovered his recollection,
+and expressed himself very thankful for the kindness he had received,
+particularly from the Governor and the doctor. As to Henri, he kissed
+him often, called him his darling son, and could not bear him to leave
+him for a moment. It was lovely to see how Henri watched by his poor
+father, and how he talked to him, sometimes sooth<!-- Page 127 -->ing and comforting,
+and sometimes giving him descriptions of the happy manner in which he
+used to live in Claude's cottage.</p>
+
+<p>"'And all this happiness, dear father,' he would say, 'came from our
+being religious; for all the ways of religion are ways of pleasantness,
+and all her paths are peace.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Claude and Maria,' said the Marquis one day to Henri, 'were very good
+people; they always led innocent lives; they had no sins to trouble
+their consciences, therefore they were happy; but I have many evil
+actions to remember, Henri.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, dear father,' said Henri, 'do let me read the Bible to you. I
+have got a little Bible, and I will, if you please, read a little to
+you every day, as you can bear it.'</p>
+
+<p>"The Marquis did not refuse to hear Henri read; accordingly, every day
+his good son used to read certain portions of Scripture to his father.
+The Marquis, having nothing else to take his attention&mdash;no cards, no
+wine, no gay companions&mdash;and being still confined by weakness to his
+bed, often lay for many hours listening to the Word of God. At first,
+as he afterwards owned, he had no pleasure in it, and would rather have
+avoided hearing it; but how could he refuse his darling son, when he
+begged him to hear a little&mdash;only a little more?</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime, the Marchioness appeared sullen, proud, and
+unforgiving: she seldom came near her husband, but sometimes spent the
+day in crying and lamenting herself, and sometimes in looking over the
+few things which she had brought with her from Paris. The Governor of
+the castle, seeing her so miserable, told her that he had no orders
+from the King to keep her or her son in confinement, and that she had
+liberty to depart when she pleased, and to take her son with her; but<!-- Page 128 -->
+Henri would not hear of leaving his poor father, and used all his
+endeavours to persuade his mother to stay.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Marquis was first able to leave his bed, and sit in his chair
+opposite the window, Henri was very happy: he brought him clean linen,
+and helped him to dress; and when he had led him to his chair, he set a
+table before him, and arranged upon it, as neatly as he could, the
+little dinner which the old man had brought in the basket, with a
+bottle of weak but pleasant wine which the Governor had sent him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Dear father,' said Henri, 'you begin to look well; you look even
+better than you did when you were at Paris. Oh! if you could but learn
+to love God, you might now be happier than ever you were in all your
+life; and we might all be happy if my poor mother would but come to you
+and love you as she used to do. Oh! come, dear mother,' added Henri,
+going up to her and taking her hand; 'come to my father, come to my
+poor father! You loved him once, love him again.'</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner Henri begged and entreated his mother to be reconciled
+to his father. The Marchioness at first seemed obstinate; but at last
+she was overcome, and running to her husband, put her arms round his
+neck, and kissed him affectionately; whilst he, embracing her, called
+her his beloved wife, his own Adelaide. This little family then sat
+down to their dinner, enjoying the lovely prospect, and the soft and
+delightful breezes from the opposite hill; and after they had dined,
+Henri sang to his parents some of the sweet hymns he had learnt when
+living in the valleys of Piedmont.</p>
+
+<p>"Henri had done a great work; he had made peace between his father and
+his mother; and now he saw, with great delight, his poor father gaining
+strength daily; and though sometimes full of sorrow, yet upon<!-- Page 129 --> the
+whole composed, and never breaking out in impatient words.</p>
+
+<p>"About this time the Governor of the castle invited Henri to dine with
+him. Henri was much pleased with the Governor, who received him kindly,
+and took him to walk with him in the village.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am glad to hear,' said the Governor, 'that your father is more
+contented than he was at first; and you may tell him from me, that if
+he will endeavour to make himself easy, and not attempt to escape, I
+will always do everything in my power to make him comfortable; and now,
+if you can tell me what I can send him which you think will please him
+or your mother, if in my power you shall have it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, sir!' said Henri, 'God has certainly put it into your heart to be
+kind to my dear father.'</p>
+
+<p>"Henri then mentioned that he had heard his father say that in his
+younger days he had been very fond of drawing; and he begged of the
+Governor a small box of colours, and some paper; and also needles and
+thread and linen for his mother. With what joy did Henri run back to
+his father and mother, in the evening, with these things! They received
+him as if he had been a long while absent from them, instead of only a
+few hours.</p>
+
+<p>"What Henri had brought afforded great amusement to the poor Marquis
+and Marchioness; the Marquis passing his time in drawing, and the
+Marchioness with her needlework, whilst Henri continually read and
+talked to them, giving them accounts of the holy and happy lives which
+the Waldenses led, and the sweet lessons which Claude used to give to
+his children.</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner the summer passed away, and the winter came. The
+Governor then, finding that the Marquis was content, and made no
+attempt to escape, allowed the<!-- Page 130 --> prisoners abundance of wood for fire,
+and candles, with every convenience which could make the winter pass
+away pleasantly; and he often came himself and passed an evening with
+them, ordering his supper into the room. The Governor was an agreeable
+man, and had travelled into many countries, which he used to describe
+to Henri. When he paid his evening visit it was a day of festivity to
+the Marquis and his little family; and when he did not come, their
+evenings passed pleasantly, whilst Henri read the Bible aloud and the
+Marchioness sewed. In the meantime the work of grace seemed to advance
+in the heart of the Marquis, and he who but a year ago was proud,
+insolent, self-indulgent, boasting, blasphemous, was now humble,
+gentle, polite, in honour preferring all men. His behaviour to the
+Marchioness was quite changed: he was tender and affectionate towards
+her, bearing with patience many of her little fretful ways.</p>
+
+<p>"In this manner the winter passed away, and the spring arrived, at
+which time the Governor gave the Marquis permission, attended by a
+guard, to walk with his family every day upon the roof of the castle.
+There the Marquis enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful prospect, and
+he said that all the pleasures of Paris were not to be compared to his
+happiness on such occasions.</p>
+
+<p>"At the end of the fourth year of the Marquis's confinement the
+small-pox broke out in the village, and the infection was brought to
+the castle. The Marquis and Henri were both seized by the dreadful
+disease, and both died in consequence. After their deaths, the poor
+Marchioness, hearing that the Waldenses had been driven from their
+happy valleys by the King, removed into a small house in the village
+near, where the Governor supported and protected her till her dying
+day."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 131 -->
+<h3><a name="A_Story_of_Besetting_Sins" id="A_Story_of_Besetting_Sins"></a>A Story of Besetting Sins</h3>
+
+<a name="image_131"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/131.png" border="0" width="576" height="324" ALT="&quot;Do you remember anything of the sermon?&quot;"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">One</span> Sunday, soon after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, Mrs.
+Fairchild, having a bad cold, could not go to church with the rest of
+the family. When the children were come home from church, Mrs.
+Fairchild asked Lucy what the sermon was about.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," said Lucy, taking her Bible out of her little basket, "I will
+show you the text; it is in Heb. xii. 1: 'Let us lay aside every
+weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.'"</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Fairchild had looked at the text, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"And do you remember anything more of the sermon, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, mamma," said Lucy, "I did not understand the sermon; it was
+all about besetting sins. What are they, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will explain," said Mrs. Fairchild. "Though our hearts are all
+naturally sinful, yet every man is not inclined alike to every kind of
+sin. One man, perhaps, is inclined<!-- Page 132 --> to covetousness, another to swear
+and use bad words, another to lie and deceive, another to be angry and
+cruel; and that sin which a man feels himself most inclined to is
+called his besetting sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! now I know what besetting sins mean," answered Lucy. "Has
+everybody a besetting sin, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild; "we all have, although we do
+not all know what they are."</p>
+
+<p>"Have I a besetting sin, mamma?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, mamma?" asked Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not tell what fault you fall into oftener than any other?"
+said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy considered a little, and then answered she did not know.</p>
+
+<p>"I think, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "although it is hard to judge
+any other person's heart, that your besetting sin is envy. I think I
+have often observed this fault in you. You were envious about Emily's
+doll, and about poor Miss Augusta Noble's fine house and clothes and
+servants, and about the muslin and ribbon I gave to Emily one day, and
+the strawberry your papa gave to Henry; and I have often thought you
+showed envy on other occasions."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked grave when her mother spoke, and the tears came into her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," she said, "I am a naughty girl; my heart is full of envy at
+times; but I pray that God would take this sin out of my heart; and I
+hate myself for it&mdash;you don't know how much, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, kissing Lucy, "if you really
+grieve for your sins, and call in faith upon the Lord Jesus Christ, you
+will surely in God's good time be set free from them. And now, my
+dear," added Mrs. Fairchild, "you know what is meant by the sin which<!-- Page 133 -->
+doth so easily beset us; and you understand that every person has some
+one besetting sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma," said Lucy, "and you have told me what my own besetting
+sin is, and I feel that you have found out the right one. But mamma,
+you said that many people do not know their own besetting sins."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild. "Careless people do not know
+their hearts, and have no idea of their besetting sins; indeed, they
+would laugh if you were to speak of such things before them."</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Mrs. Fairchild was speaking these last words, they heard the
+dinner-bell ring; so they broke off their talk and went downstairs.
+Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and all the family were sitting at
+dinner, they saw through the window a man on horseback, carrying a
+large basket, ride up to the door. Mrs. Fairchild sent John out to see
+who this person was; and John presently returned with a letter, and a
+haunch of venison packed in a basket.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said John, "the man says that he is one of Mr. Crosbie of
+London's servants; and that he has brought you a letter with his
+master's compliments, and also a haunch of venison."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Crosbie's servant!" said Mr. Fairchild, taking the letter and
+reading it aloud as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Fairchild</span>,</p>
+
+<p>"I and my wife, and my sister Miss Crosbie, and my daughter Betsy,
+have been taking a journey for our health this summer. We left
+London three months ago, and have been down as far as Yorkshire.
+We are now returning home, and have turned a little out of our way
+to see you, as it is as much as twelve years since we met; so you
+may look for us, no accident happening, to-morrow, a little before
+two. We hope to dine with you, and to go on<!-- Page 134 --> in the evening to the
+next town, for our time is short. I have sent a fine haunch of
+venison which I bought yesterday from the innkeeper where we
+slept; it will be just fit for dressing to-morrow; so I shall be
+obliged to Mrs. Fairchild to order her cook to roast it by two
+o'clock, which is my dinner-hour. My man Thomas, who brings this
+letter, will tell the cook how I like to have my venison dressed;
+and he brings a pot of currant jelly, to make sauce, in case you
+should have none by you; though I dare say this precaution is not
+necessary, as Mrs. Fairchild, no doubt, has all these things by
+her. I am not particular about my eating; but I should be obliged
+to you if you would have the venison ready by two o'clock, and let
+Thomas direct your cook. My wife and sister and daughter Betsy
+send best compliments to our old friend, Mrs. Fairchild, and
+hoping we shall meet in health to-morrow,</p>
+
+<div class="closing">
+<span class="presignature1">"I remain, dear Mr. Fairchild,<br></span>
+<span class="presignature2">Your old friend,<br></span>
+<span class="smcap presignature3">"Obadiah Crosbie.<br></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"P.S.&mdash;You will find the haunch excellent; we dined upon the neck
+yesterday, and it was the best I ever tasted."</p></div>
+
+<p>When Mr. Fairchild had finished the letter, he smiled, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be very glad to see our old friends, but I am sorry poor Mr.
+Crosbie still thinks so much about eating. It always was his besetting
+sin, and it seems to have grown stronger upon him as he has got older."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Mr. Crosbie, papa?" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Crosbie, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild, "lives in London. He has a
+large fortune which he got in trade. He has given up business some
+years, and now lives upon his fortune. When your mamma and I were in
+London, twelve years ago, we were at Mr. Crosbie's house, where<!-- Page 135 --> we
+were very kindly treated; therefore we must do the best we can to
+receive Mr. and Mrs. Crosbie kindly, and to make them as comfortable as
+possible."</p>
+
+<p>When John went to church that same evening, Mr. Fairchild desired him
+to tell nurse to come the next day to help Betty, for nurse was a very
+good cook; and the next morning Mrs. Fairchild prepared everything to
+receive Mr. and Mrs. Crosbie; and Mr. Fairchild invited Mr. Somers, the
+clergyman of the parish, to meet them at dinner. When the clock struck
+one, Mrs. Fairchild dressed herself and the children, and then went
+into a little tea-room, the window of which opened upon a small grass
+plot, surrounded by rose-bushes and other flowering shrubs. Mr. Somers
+came in a little before two, and sat with Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>When the clock struck two, Mr. Crosbie's family were not come, and Mr.
+Fairchild sent Henry to the garden gate to look if he could see the
+carriage at a distance. When Henry returned he said that he could see
+the carriage, but it was still a good way off.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid the venison will be over-roasted," said Mrs. Fairchild,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Henry soon after went to the gate, and got there just in time to open
+it wide for Mr. Crosbie's carriage. Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild ran out to
+receive their friends.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you once again," said Mr. Crosbie, as he stepped out
+of the coach, followed by Mrs. Crosbie, Miss Crosbie, Miss Betsy, and
+Mrs. Crosbie's maid.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Crosbie was a very fat man, with a red face, yet he looked
+good-humoured, and had, in his younger days, been handsome. Mrs.
+Crosbie was a little thin woman, and there was nothing in her
+appearance which pleased Emily and Lucy, though she spoke civilly to
+them. Miss Crosbie was as old as her brother, but she did not look so,
+for her<!-- Page 136 --> face was painted red and white; and she and Miss Betsy had
+sky-blue hats and tippets, with white feathers, which Lucy and Emily
+thought very beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any company, Mrs. Fairchild?" said Miss Crosbie, as Mrs.
+Fairchild was leading them into the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>"Only one gentleman, Mr. Somers, our rector," said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! then I must not appear in this gown! and my hair, too, is all
+rough," said Miss Crosbie; "I must put on another gown; I am quite
+frightful to look at!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," said Mrs. Fairchild, "your dress is very nice; there is no
+need to trouble yourself to alter it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sister," said Mrs. Crosbie, "don't think of changing your dress;
+Mrs. Fairchild's dinner is ready, I dare say."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Crosbie would not be persuaded, but, calling the maid to attend
+her, ran upstairs to change her dress: and Mrs. Fairchild sent Lucy
+after her. The rest of the company then went into the tea-room, where
+they sat round the window, and Mr. Crosbie said:</p>
+
+<p>"What a pretty place you have here, Mr. Fairchild; and a good wife, as
+I well know&mdash;and these pretty children! You ought to be a happy man."</p>
+
+<p>"And so I am, thank God," said Mr. Fairchild, "as happy as any man in
+the world."</p>
+
+<p>"I should have been with you an hour ago," said Mr. Crosbie, "that I
+might have walked over your garden before dinner, but for my wife
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"What of your wife there?" said Mrs. Crosbie, turning sharply towards
+him. "Now mind, Mr. Crosbie, if the venison is over-roasted, don't say
+it is my fault."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Crosbie took out his watch.</p>
+
+<p>"It is now twenty-five minutes past two," said he; "the<!-- Page 137 --> venison has
+been down at the fire twenty-five minutes longer than it should have
+been. And did you not keep us an hour waiting this morning, at the inn
+where we slept, whilst you quarrelled with the innkeeper and his wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Crosbie answered:</p>
+
+<p>"You are always giving people to understand that I am ill-tempered, Mr.
+Crosbie; which I think is very unhandsome of you, Mr. Crosbie. There is
+not another person in the world who thinks me ill-tempered but you. Ask
+Thomas, or my maid, what they know of my temper, and ask your sister,
+who has lived with me long enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you ask <i>me</i> what I think of it, mamma?" said Miss Betsy,
+pertly.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue, miss!" said Mrs. Crosbie.</p>
+
+<p>"Must I not speak?" said Miss Betsy in a low voice, but loud enough for
+her mamma to hear her.</p>
+
+<p>When <a name="page_137_text"></a>Miss Betsy first came in, Emily admired her very much; for,
+besides the sky-blue hat and feather, she had blue satin shoes, and a
+very large pair of gold earrings; but when she heard her speak so
+boldly to her mother she did not like her so much. By this time John
+came to tell the company that dinner was on the table; and Mr. Crosbie
+got up, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"The venison smells well&mdash;exceedingly well."</p>
+
+<p>"But where is Miss Crosbie?" asked Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my aunt thought herself not smart enough to show herself before
+Mr. Somers," said Miss Betsy pertly.</p>
+
+<p>"Be silent, miss," said Mrs. Crosbie.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't wait for her, then," said Mr. Crosbie; "let us go in to dinner.
+My sister loves a little finery; she would rather lose her dinner than
+not be dressed smart; I never wait for her at any meal. Come, come!
+Ladies lead the way; I am very hungry."</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Fairchild sent Emily to tell Miss Crosbie that<!-- Page 138 --> dinner was
+ready, and the rest of the company sat down to table.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Crosbie," said Mr. Crosbie, looking at the venison, then at his
+wife, "the venison is too much roasted; I told you it would be so."</p>
+
+<p>"What! finding fault with me again, Mr. Crosbie?" said Mrs. Crosbie.
+"Do you hear Mr. Fairchild finding fault with his wife in this manner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps the venison is better than you think, Mr. Crosbie," said Mr.
+Somers; "let me help you to some. Mr. Fairchild, I know, is not fond of
+carving."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Crosbie thanked Mr. Somers; and Mr. Somers had just begun to cut
+the venison, when Mr. Crosbie called out, as if in agony:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Somers, you will spoil the venison! You must not cut it that
+way upon any account. Do put the haunch by me, and let me help myself."</p>
+
+<p>"What confusion you are making at the table, Mr. Crosbie!" said Mrs.
+Crosbie. "You are putting every dish out of its place! Surely Mr.
+Somers knows how to carve as well as you do."</p>
+
+<p>"But papa is afraid Mr. Somers won't give him all the nice bits," said
+Miss Betsy.</p>
+
+<p>"Learn to be silent, miss!" said Mr. Crosbie.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betsy was going to answer her father, when Miss Crosbie came into
+the room, newly dressed in a very elegant manner. She came smiling in,
+followed by Lucy and Emily, who went to sit at a small table with
+Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Sister," said Mrs. Crosbie, "where was the need of your dressing
+again? If we had waited for you, the dinner would have been spoiled."</p>
+
+<p>"But we did not wait for Miss Crosbie, so there was no harm done," said
+Mr. Fairchild, smiling.<!-- Page 139 --></p>
+
+<p>"My aunt would not lose an opportunity of showing her new-fashioned
+gown for the world!" said Miss Betsy.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, niece," answered Miss Crosbie, "I do not know why you should
+say that I am fond of showing my clothes. I wish to be neat and clean,
+but no person cares less than I do about fashions and finery."</p>
+
+<p>"La!" says Miss Betsy, whispering to Mrs. Fairchild "hear my aunt! she
+says she does not care about finery! That's like mamma saying how
+good-natured she is!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fie, fie, Miss Betsy!" said Mrs. Fairchild, speaking low; "you forget
+your respect to your elders."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betsy coloured, and stared at Mrs. Fairchild. She had not been
+used to be found fault with; for she was spoiled by both her parents;
+and she felt quite angry.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" she said, "I never was thought disrespectful to anyone
+before. Can't I see people's faults? Can't I see that mamma is cross,
+and my aunt fond of fine clothes, and that papa loves eating?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! hush!" said Mrs. Fairchild, in a low voice; "your papa and mamma
+will hear you."</p>
+
+<p>"And I don't care if they do," said Miss Betsy: "they know what I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that you are saying there, Miss Betsy?" said Mr. Crosbie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't ask, brother," said Miss Crosbie; "I know it is something
+saucy, by my niece's looks."</p>
+
+<p>"And why should you suppose I am saying anything saucy, aunt?" said
+Miss Betsy; "I am sure you are not accustomed to hear me say saucy
+things."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss! Miss! be quiet!" said Mrs. Crosbie; for she was afraid Mr. and
+Mrs. Fairchild would think her daughter ill-behaved.<!-- Page 140 --></p>
+
+<p>"What, mamma!" answered Miss Betsy, "am I to sit quietly and hear my
+aunt find fault with me before company&mdash;and for being impertinent, too,
+to my elders&mdash;as if I were a mere child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well&mdash;enough!" said Mr. Crosbie. "What is that pie, Mrs.
+Fairchild, in the middle of the table? I must have some, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not sorry when dinner was over, and Mrs.
+Crosbie proposed that Mrs. Fairchild should show her the garden.
+Accordingly, the ladies and children got up, and left the gentlemen
+together; for Mr. Crosbie never stirred for some time after dinner.
+When Mrs. Crosbie had got into the garden, and had looked about her,
+she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mrs. Fairchild, how happy you are! Such a pretty house and
+garden!&mdash;such a kind husband!&mdash;such good children!" Then she sighed,
+and gave Mrs. Fairchild to understand that she was not so happy
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>After tea, Mr. Crosbie and his family took their leave, and went off to
+the next inn upon the London road, where they were to sleep; for Mr.
+Crosbie was in haste to be at home, and would not stay, although Mr.
+and Mrs. Fairchild begged that they would&mdash;at least till the next day.
+When they were gone, Mr. Fairchild and Henry took a walk towards the
+village with Mr. Somers, whilst the little girls remained at home with
+their mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Lucy," said Mrs. Fairchild, as soon as she was alone with her
+little girls, "do you remember what we were speaking about yesterday,
+before Mr. Crosbie's letter came?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma," said Lucy; "we were speaking of besetting sins, and you
+said that everybody has a besetting sin, and you told me what you
+believed mine to be."</p>
+
+<p>"True, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild: "I told you<!-- Page 141 --> that, without
+the help of the Holy Spirit of God, very few people know what their own
+besetting sins are. You had an opportunity to-day of observing this:
+every individual of our friend Mr. Crosbie's family has a very strong
+besetting sin; Mr. Crosbie loves eating; Mrs. Crosbie is ill-tempered;
+Miss Crosbie is vain, and fond of finery; and Miss Betsy is very pert
+and forward. We can see these faults in them, and they can see them in
+each other; but it is plain they do not see them in themselves. Mr.
+Crosbie said several times that he was not particular about what he ate
+or drank; Mrs. Crosbie said that there was not a person in the world
+who thought her ill-tempered but her husband; Miss Crosbie said that
+nobody in the world cared less for finery than she did; and Miss Betsy
+was quite offended when she was told she was not respectful in her
+manners to her elders."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" said Emily; "she said, 'I am not saucy; of all faults,
+sauciness is not one of my faults, I am sure;' and I thought all the
+time she looked as saucy and impertinent as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"And how Mr. Crosbie did eat!" said Lucy; "he ate half the haunch of
+venison! And then he was helped twice to pigeon-pie; and then he ate
+apple-tart and custard; and then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well! you have said enough, Lucy," said Mrs. Fairchild,
+interrupting her. "I do not speak of our poor friends' faults out of
+malice, or for the sake of making a mockery of them; but to show you
+how people may live in the constant practice of one particular sin
+without being at all conscious of it, and perhaps thinking themselves
+very good all the time. We are all quick enough, my dear Emily and
+Lucy, in finding out other people's faults; but, as I said before, we
+are often very blind to our own."<!-- Page 142 --></p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," said Lucy, "do you know any prayer about besetting sins?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild; "I have one in my own book of
+prayers; and I will copy it out for you to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Fairchild broke off her conversation with her little girls, and
+bade them go and play a little before bedtime.</p>
+
+<a name="image_142"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Miss Betsy.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_137_text">Page 137</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/142.png" border="0" width="401" height="370" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 143 -->
+<h3><a name="A_Visit_to_Mary_Bush" id="A_Visit_to_Mary_Bush"></a>A Visit to Mary Bush</h3>
+
+<a name="image_143"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/143.png" border="0" width="586" height="329" ALT="The children looked at the kittens"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Not</span> very long after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, a note came
+from Sir Charles and Lady Noble, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild to
+dinner the next day; but not mentioning the children, as they used to
+do when they sent their invitations.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Lady Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild; "I wish we could give her any
+comfort! but we will certainly go."</p>
+
+<p>The next day, when Sir Charles's carriage came for Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild, they kissed the children, and told them when they had dined,
+they might, if they pleased, go with Betty to see old Mary Bush. Mary
+Bush was one of the old women who lived at the end of the coppice; and,
+being a good woman, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not afraid of trusting
+their children with her. The children were very much pleased, and made
+haste to get their dinner; after which Lucy packed up a little tea and
+sugar, which her mamma had given her, in a basket;<!-- Page 144 --> and the little
+girls, having put on their bonnets and tippets, went into the kitchen
+to see if Betty was ready. Betty was tying up a small loaf and a pot of
+butter in a clean napkin; and she had put some nice cream into a small
+bottle, for which John was cutting a cork.</p>
+
+<p>"Betty, are you ready?" said Henry; "Lucy has got the tea and sugar,
+and Emily has got Miss Dolly, and I have got my hat and stick. So come,
+Betty, come!"</p>
+
+<p>"But who is to milk the cow?" said John, pretending to look grave;
+"Betty must stay to milk the cow at five o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"No, John!" said the children, all gathering round him; "good John,
+will you be so kind as to milk the cow, and let Betty go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will see about it," said John, putting the cork into the cream
+bottle.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a good John!" said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you, John!" said Henry. "And now, Betty, come, make haste
+away."</p>
+
+<p>So the children set out; and they went out across the garden to a
+little wicket-gate which Mr. Fairchild had opened towards the coppice,
+and came into Henry's favourite Sunday walk. The green trees arched
+over their heads; and on each side the pathway was a mossy bank, out of
+which sprang such kind of flowers as love shady places&mdash;such as the
+wood anemone and wild vetch: thrushes and blackbirds were singing
+sweetly amongst the branches of the trees.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my walk," said Henry; "and I say it is the prettiest in the
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Henry," said Emily; "it is not so pretty as the walk to the hut at
+the top of the hill: for there you can look all over the coppice, and
+see the birds flying over the tops of the trees."<!-- Page 145 --></p>
+
+<p>"Sister," said Lucy, "now you shall carry my basket, and I will have
+the doll a little."</p>
+
+<p>"With all my heart," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you give Miss to me?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" said Emily. "Did I not give her to you one day; and did you
+not hang her upon a tree in the garden, with a bit of string round her
+neck, and say she was a thief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy," said Henry, "let us have a race to that tree which has fallen
+down over the path."</p>
+
+<p>So away they ran; and when they got to the tree they sat down upon the
+trunk until Betty came up with Emily. On one side of the fallen tree
+was a place where the wood had been cut away, and the woodmen had made
+themselves a little hut, which they had now left empty. Round this hut
+were scattered many dry sticks and chips.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Henry," said Betty, "here are some nice sticks: let us gather a
+few together; they will do to make a fire to boil Mary Bush's kettle."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Betty," answered the children: and they set to work, and soon
+gathered a great many sticks; and Betty tied them together with a piece
+of packthread which Henry pulled out of his pocket; then Betty took off
+her bonnet, and placed the bundle upon her head. They went on to Mary
+Bush's. The children wanted to help to carry the sticks, but Betty
+would not let them, saying they were too heavy for them.</p>
+
+<p>"But we can carry the bread and butter," said Lucy; so Betty allowed
+them to do it.</p>
+
+<p>When they had walked a little farther, they came in sight of Mary
+Bush's house, down in a kind of little valley or dingle, deeply shaded
+by trees. In the very deepest part of the dingle was a stream of water
+falling from a rock. The light from above fell upon the water as it<!-- Page 146 -->
+flowed, and made it glitter and shine very beautifully among the shady
+trees. This was the same which took its course through the Primrose
+Meadow, and on towards the village, and so to Brookside Cottage, where
+nurse lived&mdash;a clear and beautiful stream as could be.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bush's cottage was so large, that, after the death of her husband,
+she had let half of it to one Goodman Grey, who lived in it, with his
+old wife Margery, and cultivated the garden, which was a very good one.
+John Trueman's wife was Mary Bush's eldest daughter; and Joan, nurse's
+son's wife, her youngest; and it was said of them that there were not
+two better wives and mothers in the parish: so Mary Bush was very happy
+in her children.</p>
+
+<p>When the children and Betty came up to the cottage, they found Mary
+Bush spinning at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"We are come to drink tea with you, Mary," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"And we have brought bread and butter, and tea and cream with us," said
+Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"And a bundle of sticks," said Henry, "to boil the kettle."</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome, welcome, my little loves," said old Mary, as she got up and
+set her spinning-wheel on one side. "Come in, little dears."</p>
+
+<p>Mary had but one room, and a little pantry, but it was a very neat
+room; there was a bed in one corner, covered with a clean linen quilt;
+there were also a nice oaken dresser, a clock, two arm-chairs, two
+three-legged stools, a small round table, a corner cupboard, and some
+shelves for plates and dishes. The fireplace and all about it were
+always very neat and clean, and in winter you would probably see a
+small bright fire on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>"How does the cat do?" said Henry, looking about for Mary Bush's
+cat.<!-- Page 147 --><!-- Page 148 --><!-- Page 149 --></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, here she is, Henry!" said Emily, screaming with joy, "in this
+basket under the dresser, with two such beautiful tortoiseshell
+kittens! Do look, Lucy&mdash;do look, Henry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lucy," said old Mary, "would you like to have one of the kittens
+when it is big enough to leave its mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, yes! and thank you, Mary," answered Lucy, "if mamma pleases."</p>
+
+<p>When the children had looked at the kittens and kissed them, they went
+to visit Margery Grey, and to talk to old Goodman Grey, who was working
+in the garden, whilst Betty, in the meantime, and old Mary Bush, set
+out the tea-cups, and set the kettle to boil for tea. When the tea was
+ready, Betty called the children, and they would make Margery Grey come
+and drink tea with them. Henry would have the old man come too.</p>
+
+<p>"No, master," said the old man: "I know my place better."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said Lucy, "I will send you a nice cup of tea, and some
+bread-and-butter, into the garden."</p>
+
+<p>I wish you could have seen them all <a name="page_149a_text"></a>drinking tea at the door of the
+cottage, round the little table, the two old women sitting in the
+arm-chairs, for Lucy would have them do so, Betty making tea, and the
+three children sitting on stools&mdash;and how pleased and happy they were.</p>
+
+
+<a name="image_147"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/147.png" border="0"
+ width="470" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Drinking tea at the door of the cottage, round the
+little table.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_149a_text">Page 149</a>.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 150 -->
+<h2><a name="Part_II" id="Part_II"></a>Part II</h2>
+
+<h3><a name="Story_of_Miss_Crosbies_Presents"></a>Story of Miss Crosbie's Presents</h3>
+
+<a name="image_150"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/150.png" border="0" width="579" height="333" ALT="Miss Crosbie spoke kindly to her"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">We</span> will begin this history again, by telling what had happened since
+the first part was concluded.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Charles and Lady Noble had left their fine place soon after the
+funeral of their daughter, and it was supposed would never return; for
+the house and park were advertised to be let. After a few months it was
+taken by a family of the name of Darwell, said to be immensely rich:
+this family had an only daughter.</p>
+
+<p>No other changes had taken place; everybody else lived where they did
+in the last part of our history, which is very pleasant, as we may hope
+to see our old friends all again.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild had had a few hundred pounds left him by a friend, from
+whom he had expected nothing; on the strength of which he bought a
+plain roomy carriage, which would hold himself and Mrs. Fairchild in
+the front seat, with a child between them, and two children behind.<!-- Page 151 -->
+The pillion was put aside, and the old horse put in the shafts: and
+though, to be sure, he went but slowly, and not very far at a time, yet
+the whole family found great pleasure in the change.</p>
+
+<p>The winter was past, and the sweet spring was beginning to show itself,
+when that happened which shall be related without delay.</p>
+
+<p>One morning when Henry was with his father in the study, and Lucy and
+Emily were busy with their needles, seated in the parlour window
+together, and alone, they saw a gentleman's carriage stop at the gate,
+and a lady get out. A great number of bandboxes were taken from
+different parts of the carriage by a servant who was attending the
+carriage; and before the little girls could make anything of all these
+wonders, they saw their father first, and then their mother, run out
+and shake hands with the lady, and seem to invite her to come in.
+Henry, too, had gone out after his papa, and had been sent back, as
+they thought, to fetch Betty; for Betty soon appeared, and began, with
+the help of Henry, who seemed to be delighted at this interruption of
+his lessons, to carry the boxes into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily soon discovered that this lady was the elder Miss
+Crosbie; but they wondered how she had happened to come that day. Miss
+Crosbie had come from London, where she had been for some time, and was
+now so far on her way to visit a friend in the country.</p>
+
+<p>She had come to Mr. Fairchild's door in another friend's carriage, and
+she was come to ask Mr. Fairchild to take her in until the Monday
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild both assured her that they were most glad to see
+her; expressed a hope that she would stay longer than Monday, and
+showed themselves so kind and hospitable, that Miss Crosbie was quite
+at her ease, and<!-- Page 152 --> everything was settled about her staying, before Mr.
+Fairchild brought her into the parlour. But there was quite time
+enough, before Miss Crosbie came in, for Lucy and Emily to say many
+things, for which, I am happy to add, they were afterwards very sorry.
+Lucy spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"What a quantity of boxes she has brought!" she said; "some finery, I
+dare say, in all of them; how silly for such an old person to be fond
+of dress!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is very silly," replied Emily, "and particularly for one so ugly.
+Don't you think Miss Crosbie uncommonly ugly?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure I do," she answered; "everybody must: with her little nose,
+and her gray eyes, and her wide mouth."</p>
+
+<p>"And to be so fond of finery after all!" said Emily. "I am sure if I
+was like Miss Crosbie, instead of dressing myself out, I would wear a
+veil and hide my face."</p>
+
+<p>In this way the two little girls kept on chattering; and I fear my
+reader will say that they are not improved since last she heard
+anything of them.</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Crosbie came into the parlour, she kissed them both, and made
+some remarks upon their looks, which showed that she was quite pleased
+with their appearance. Mrs. Fairchild employed them a little time in
+going backwards and forwards to Betty, and helping in many things; for
+when people keep but one maidservant, they must occasionally assist
+her.</p>
+
+<p>When the room was ready for Miss Crosbie, and a fire lighted, and all
+the boxes and packages carried up, Mrs. Fairchild showed the lady to
+her room; and Miss Crosbie, having asked when dinner would be ready,
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I shall just have time to change my dress."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, pray do not trouble yourself to dress," said Mrs. Fairchild; "you
+are very nice now, and we are plain people."<!-- Page 153 --></p>
+
+<p>"You are very good," answered Miss Crosbie, "but I shall not be
+comfortable in the dress in which I travelled."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild said no more; but having told her little girls, who had
+gone up with her to the visitor's room, to go and make themselves neat
+in their Sunday frocks, she hastened to give some orders, and perhaps
+some help, in the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>We will not repeat what Lucy and Emily said to each other whilst they
+were in their little room: all that passed was of the same kind, if not
+worse than what they had said in the parlour; one encouraging the
+other, and carrying their ridicule of their mother's visitor farther
+than either of them intended when they began. When the little girls
+were dressed, they went into the best parlour, or tea-room, as their
+mother called it in the old-fashioned way; and there they found a fire
+burning, and everything in order. John was laying the cloth in the next
+room, and Henry soon came to them in his Sunday dress, and soon
+afterwards their father and mother; but Miss Crosbie did not appear
+till dinner was being served up. She came dressed in a muslin gown,
+with a long train, and large full sleeves, tied in several places with
+crimson ribbons; she had her hair frizzed and powdered, and a turban of
+crimson satin on her head. Her dress was quite out of place; but
+persons who are always used to be rather over-dressed are not judges of
+the times and places in which to put on their finery. At the sight of
+her, Lucy and Emily gave each other a look, which seemed to say, "How
+very silly!"</p>
+
+<p>The dinner-time passed off very well. Miss Crosbie had a great deal to
+tell about London and her journey down into the country; and soon after
+dinner the children had leave to go to their play-room. They were not
+in the humour to do much good there: they began with talking<!-- Page 154 --> nonsense,
+and finished off with getting pettish with each other. Henry said that
+he did not want to hear any more of Miss Crosbie and her finery. Lucy
+called him cross; and Emily said that he was not to hinder them talking
+of what they pleased. They were called to tea about six o'clock, and
+when the tea-things were removed, Miss Crosbie said:</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Mrs. Fairchild, you shall see some of the things which I have
+brought from London; will you come to my room, or shall I send for the
+bandbox down here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, pray," said Mr. Fairchild, "let us have the box down here, that
+Henry and I may see the fine sights also."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say," answered Miss Crosbie, laughing, "that a
+sensible man like you, Mr. Fairchild, can be amused by the sight of
+specimens of the fashions?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am amused with anything," said Mr. Fairchild, "which entertains my
+family. I make a point of enjoying everything which they do, as far as
+I can."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said Miss Crosbie, "if I had my bandbox here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The children all at once offered to fetch it&mdash;she explained which they
+were to bring out of the many which had come with her, and in a very
+few minutes they had brought it down and set it on the table. Miss
+Crosbie sent them up again to look in her workbag for her keys, and to
+bring down a small parcel wrapped in brown paper, which was to be found
+in the same bag.</p>
+
+<p>The parcel and the keys soon appeared. Miss Crosbie opened the parcel
+and presented Henry with a neat pocket-book, inside of which were a
+pencil, a leaf of ass's-skin, a penknife, and a pair of scissors.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am," said Henry, "how good you are!"<!-- Page 155 --></p>
+
+<p>And his father and mother joined in the boy's thanks. There was nothing
+on Henry's mind particularly to render that gift bitter to him; he had
+not joined in the ridicule of Miss Crosbie.</p>
+
+<p>She next opened the bandbox, and took out of it two bonnets and two
+tippets of grass-green silk, lined with pale pink satin. There were
+also two neatly plaited lace caps to wear under the bonnets, and waist
+ribbons to suit.</p>
+
+<p>"These, I hope, will please you, my dear Miss Lucy and Miss Emily," she
+said; "I brought them for you, and I trust you will like them."</p>
+
+<p>It was well at the moment that Emily was not struck by this kindness in
+the way that Lucy was. She was one full year younger than her sister,
+and could hardly be supposed to be able to reflect so deeply: she
+therefore <i>could</i> look joyful, <i>could</i> run forwards to kiss Miss
+Crosbie, and was ready almost to dance with delight, when she looked at
+the beautiful things on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Had she not, as it were, pushed herself first, Miss Crosbie must have
+been struck, as Mrs. Fairchild was, with the manner of Lucy: the little
+girl first flushed up to her brow, and all over her neck. She came
+forward to Miss Crosbie but slowly, and with her eyes cast down. She
+stood one moment, and then, throwing her arms round her neck and
+pressing her face against her shoulder, she sobbed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Crosbie was certainly surprised; she did not expect that her
+present could have made the little girl feel so much. She spoke very
+kindly to her, put her arms round her, kissed her several times, and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear, a bonnet and a tippet are not worthy of such deep
+gratitude; you make me ashamed that I have done so little for you."<!-- Page 156 --></p>
+
+<p>"But you are so good, ma'am, so very good!" sobbed Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Crosbie continued to soothe the little girl, and say kind things
+to her, which only made her seem to feel the more. Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild were certainly surprised, but they took no notice; and after
+a little while Lucy became calm, and the affair passed off, Miss
+Crosbie appearing to be rather pleased at the manner in which her
+present had been received.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy became quite calm after her fit of crying, but her mother observed
+that she sighed deeply once or twice. When eight o'clock came, the
+children, at a hint from their mother, were wishing their friends
+good-night, when Miss Crosbie asked leave for their staying to supper.
+Mrs. Fairchild said:</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-night, if you please, Miss Crosbie, but to-morrow night&mdash;we
+will all sup together to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Crosbie kissed Lucy affectionately before she left the room, and
+Mrs. Fairchild again saw the tears in the eyes of her little girl, but
+she did not appear to take notice of it.</p>
+
+<p>When Lucy and Emily had got into their own room, Lucy at once gave way
+to her feelings.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Emily, Emily!" she said, as she laid her new bonnet and tippet on
+the drawers, "I am so unhappy; I have been so wicked! to think how kind
+Miss Crosbie was to bring those beautiful things for us, and to know
+how I laughed at her, and said cruel things about her, and called her
+ugly! I have been naughtier than you, because I am older, and because,
+at the time I did it, I knew I was wrong; and when I saw those
+beautiful bonnets, I felt as if there had been a thorn put into my
+heart."</p>
+
+<p>"It is odd," said Emily, "that I did not think of it, even when I saw
+you crying."<!-- Page 157 --></p>
+
+<p>"If Miss Crosbie had not been so kind," replied Lucy, "I should not
+have cared. I can't forgive myself&mdash;I can't forget it!"</p>
+
+<p>Then Lucy cried again, and Emily with her; and they were still weeping
+when sleep came over them. They were leaning back on their pillow;
+Emily had her arm over Lucy, and their cheeks were still wet with
+tears, when their mother came in before she went to bed to look at
+them.</p>
+
+<p>She was again surprised to see their tears, and stood a while looking
+at them, being uneasy to think what could have caused them. They did
+not wake, and she did not like to disturb them; but she went to bed
+rather uneasy, though she hoped that there was no great cause for being
+so; and in the morning all her fears were soon removed, for she heard
+the voices of her little girls before she had quite finished dressing.
+They were knocking at her door, and asking to speak to her. She went to
+them immediately, and Lucy told her at once all that had made them
+unhappy the last evening, telling how they had prayed to be kept from
+such naughtiness again, and saying what pain Miss Crosbie's kindness
+had given them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild heard all they had to say without interrupting them, but
+her face looked kind and full of pity. When the story was told she put
+her arms round both of them, and kissed them tenderly, and then talked
+to them for some time of the want of kindness and good feeling they had
+shown towards their guest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma," said Lucy, "the more you talk the more vexed I am with
+myself. What am I to do? Shall I go and beg Miss Crosbie's pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we, mamma?" added Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, my children," answered Mrs. Fairchild, half smiling. "What!
+would you give the poor lady pain by telling her wherefore you come to
+beg her pardon?"<!-- Page 158 --></p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Lucy, thoughtfully, "that will not do, I see."</p>
+
+<p>"But we will not wear our bonnets to-day, mamma," said Emily, "though
+it is so fine."</p>
+
+<p>"She wishes to see you in them," answered their mother; "she must not
+be disappointed."</p>
+
+<p>"Now wipe away your tears, my little girls," she added. "We must try to
+make this day as pleasant as possible to poor Miss Crosbie."</p>
+
+<p>And all went most pleasantly from the time that they met at breakfast
+till they parted after supper; and Miss Crosbie said:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mrs. Fairchild, I have certainly had a most delightful day, and
+I wish that I could spend all my Sundays with you as I have done this;
+for, in general, I must confess I do find the Sunday the dullest day of
+all the <a name="tn_pg_194"></a><!--TN: Quotation mark added after "seven"-->seven."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, ma'am," said Lucy, "I hope you will come often again;" and Mrs.
+Fairchild joined in the invitation.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 159 -->
+<h3><a name="A_Visit_to_Mrs_Goodriche" id="A_Visit_to_Mrs_Goodriche"></a>A Visit to Mrs. Goodriche</h3>
+
+<a name="image_159"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/159.png" border="0" width="574" height="319" ALT="In the summer parlour"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Nothing</span> happened for some weeks after Miss Crosbie went away which
+could be put down in this history, because almost every day was like
+another, unless we were to say what lessons the children did, and what
+the doll was dressed in, and what walks were taken. The spring came on,
+and a very fine spring it was; and Henry found a place among the trees
+where he thought a very beautiful arbour might be made, and he got
+leave to make it, and John helped, and Lucy and Emily were very busy
+about it, and a most pleasant place it was. The hut in the wood was too
+far off for the children to run to when they had but little time; but
+Henry's arbour could be reached in three minutes by the shortest way.
+Mr. Fairchild was so good as to pay John Trueman to make a thatched
+roof and sides to it, and the man-servant John found some old boards
+for seats; but he could not find time to finish the seats as soon as
+Henry wished.</p>
+
+<p>During this time Mrs. Goodriche came over to visit<!-- Page 160 --> Mrs. Fairchild, and
+she then invited all the family to come and spend a whole day with her
+in the summer, and she promised that on that day, if all was well, she
+would tell them another story about old Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+<p>But the happiest times of people's lives are often those in which there
+is least to write and talk about; so we must pass over the spring, and
+go on to the month of June, the very first day of which was that fixed
+for the visit to Mrs. Goodriche.</p>
+
+<p>It was a bright morning when the party set out in the carriage which
+Mr. Fairchild had bought. The dew was not off the ground, for they were
+to breakfast at Mrs. Goodriche's; but, as Henry said, the day would be
+too short anyhow, for these happy children thought many days too short.</p>
+
+<p>What a curious old house Mrs. Goodriche's was! it was the very house in
+which Mrs. Howard had lived, and it had been scarcely altered for Mrs.
+Goodriche. There was what the old lady had called her summer parlour,
+because she never sat in it in cold weather; it was low and large, and
+had double glass doors, which opened upon the old-fashioned garden; and
+there was a short walk which went from the door to the old arbour. The
+walls of the room were painted blue, the windows were casements, and
+had seats in them, and there was a step up from the floor into the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>The visitors found Mrs. Goodriche in this summer parlour.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast the two elder ladies took out their work. Mr. Fairchild
+walked away somewhere with a book, and the children went into the
+arbour. Lucy and Emily had their doll's work, and Henry had his knife
+and some bits of wood; it was very hot, so that they could not run
+about.<!-- Page 161 --></p>
+
+<p>"I love this arbour," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lucy.</i> "So do I; don't you remember, Henry, that we were sitting here
+once, thinking of poor Emily when she had the fever, when Mrs.
+Goodriche came to us and told us that Emily was so much better and the
+fever gone, and how glad we were, and how we jumped and screamed? Oh!
+that was a dreadful time."</p>
+
+<p>"To me it was not dreadful," replied Emily; "I think I may say it was a
+happy time, Lucy, for I had thoughts put into my mind in that illness
+which make everything seem different to me ever since. You know what I
+mean, Lucy, I can't explain it."</p>
+
+<p><i>Lucy.</i> "I know what you mean, Emily."</p>
+
+<p><i>Emily.</i> "I never felt anything like that till I had the fever, so I
+call the fever a happy time."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would not talk about it," said Henry; "Lucy and I were
+miserable then; were not we, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche dined very early, and after dinner she and Mrs.
+Fairchild came into the arbour, and there she told the story which she
+had promised.<a name="tn_pg_197"></a><!-- TN: Final period missing in original--></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 162 -->
+<h3><a name="Story_of_the_Last_Days_of_Mrs_Howard" id="Story_of_the_Last_Days_of_Mrs_Howard"></a>Story of the Last Days of Mrs. Howard</h3>
+
+<a name="image_162"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/162.png" border="0" width="586" height="320" ALT="When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"It</span> was about half a year after the things had happened which are
+related in the last story of Mrs. Howard, that Betty, one evening when
+she returned from market upon Crop, came into the parlour to her
+mistress and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Ma'am, I have heard a bit of news; Mr. Bennet is going to leave the
+country.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard: 'how has that happened?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Some relation towards London has left him a property, and our county
+is glad of anything that takes off the family.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, well, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, and Betty knew that when her
+mistress said, 'Well, well,' it was a hint to her to say no more on the
+subject. Mrs. Howard soon heard from other quarters that the Bennets
+were going, but they were not to be off till the Lady Day next.</p>
+
+<p>"A week or two before that time, Betty had occasion to go again to
+town. Many things were wanted, and on such occasions Crop did not
+object to carry panniers.<!-- Page 163 --></p>
+
+<p>"When Betty was quite ready, and Crop at the door, and the woman in the
+house who always came to take care of things on such occasions, she
+came to ask her mistress if there was anything more not yet mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>"Betty never travelled in cold weather without a long blue cloak, and a
+black felt hat tied over her mob.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'but you must be very
+particular&mdash;you must get me two small neat Bibles with gilt edges,
+bound in morocco, scarlet or green; I should wish them alike, and a
+clear print; besides which you must bring a young gentleman's
+pocket-book, all complete and handsome, with a silver clasp; and
+lastly, you must bring me a genteel equipage in chased silver, the
+furniture quite complete and as it should be, and mind it is well
+wrapped in paper.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, ma'am,' said Betty, 'how shall I be able to choose one that will
+exactly suit for what you want? I am quite afraid to undertake the
+bringing of a genteel equipage, there is such a difference of opinion
+about so tasty a thing.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'you know I am always pleased with your
+taste; and if anyone in the world knows what I like, it is you, my good
+girl.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard often called Betty a good girl, though she was too old to
+be so called; but it was a habit in those days in which the old lady
+lived.</p>
+
+<p>"'I should know your taste, ma'am,' said Betty, smiling, 'by this time,
+I should think&mdash;me who has lived in yours and your lady mother's
+service four-and-forty years next Candlemas;' and so saying Betty set
+out."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, ma'am," asked Lucy, "what is an equipage?"</p>
+
+<p>"A fine carriage and horses, to be sure, Lucy," said Henry. "Lady Noble
+had an equipage. I heard John<!-- Page 164 --> once say, 'That's a fine equipage,' when
+he saw Lady Noble riding by."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Henry," said Emily, "surely what Betty was to bring with her could
+not be a carriage and horses wrapped in paper."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche smiled, and explained to the children what Mrs. Howard
+meant: she told them that an equipage was a little case which held a
+thimble, scissors, a pencil, or other such little matters, and, being
+either of gold or silver, was hung to the girdle to balance the great
+watches worn by the grandmothers and great-grandmothers of people now
+living.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "and now please to go on, and tell us
+what Mrs. Howard meant to do with this equipage."</p>
+
+<p>"When Betty returned," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "Mrs. Howard was well
+satisfied with what she had done; and the very next Sunday evening she
+took occasion, after service, to speak to Master and Miss Bennet, and
+to invite them to tea for the next evening.</p>
+
+<p>"'I wonder,' said Master Jacky to Miss Polly, as they walked home
+together by their mother, 'what she can want with us. I promise you I
+shan't go.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What's that you are saying, Jacky?' said Mrs. Bennet.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Polly then told her mother of the invitation and what her brother
+had said.</p>
+
+<p>"'You had best go,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'and you may, perhaps, get some
+pretty present. I was told by one who was told by another, that Betty
+was in town last week, and laying out money at the silversmith's, and
+at Mr. Bates the bookseller's, so I would have you go: you don't know
+but that the old lady may have some keepsakes to give you.'<!-- Page 165 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Well then,' said Jacky, 'if Polly goes, I will; for I don't see why
+she is to have the presents, and me nothing&mdash;but as to anything that
+Mrs. Howard ever gave me yet,' added the rude boy, 'I might put it into
+my eye and see none the worse.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And whose fault is that?' said Miss Polly.</p>
+
+<p>"'It don't become you to talk, Miss,' replied Jacky; 'for if I have had
+nothing, you have had no more&mdash;so there is half a dozen for one and six
+for another.'</p>
+
+<p>"By this discourse we may see," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that no great
+change for the better had yet passed on these rude children.</p>
+
+<p>"But they had got a notion that, as Jacky said, there were presents in
+the wind, and they set out for Mrs. Howard's determining to behave
+their best, though they did not tell their thoughts to each other, for
+Jacky hoped that Polly would disgrace herself and get nothing, and
+Polly had the same kind wishes for Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard received them in the summer parlour, and they both behaved
+themselves very well, but more out of spite for each other than from
+love of what is right in itself; but you shall hear by-and-by how I
+came to the knowledge of these their thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Betty had made a cake, and there was a roast fowl and hot apple-tart
+for supper; and between tea and supper Mrs. Howard showed them many
+curious things, pictures, and dolls dressed in the fashions of her
+youth, and a number of other things which she kept in a Japan cabinet,
+which always stood in the summer parlour while she lived in this house.</p>
+
+<p>"It was not till after supper that she brought out the two Bibles and
+the pocket-book and equipage. She then laid them before her on the
+table, and she spoke to the two children:<!-- Page 166 --></p>
+
+<p>"She began by saying that as they were going out of the country and she
+was far in years, she might, perhaps, never see them again in this
+world. She then spoke, in her own sweet warm way, of what our dear
+Saviour has done for us, and when she had said as much as she thought
+the children could bear, she presented each a Bible, having written
+their names in them. She next took the other presents in her hands:</p>
+
+<p>"'And these, my dears,' she said, 'I ask you to accept. I am sorry if
+on former occasions I may have seemed harsh to you, but these little
+gifts are to prove that I am truly sorry if ever I gave you pain; when
+you look at them you will think of me, and know that nothing would ever
+give me more delight than to hear that you were both walking in the
+ways of holiness.'</p>
+
+<p>"She then put the pocket-book into Jacky's hand, and the equipage into
+Miss Polly's; but she hardly expected what followed. The two children
+burst into tears; Jacky rubbed his eyes to hide his; but Miss Polly
+sprang from her chair, and fell weeping into Mrs. Howard's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"'We will, we will try to do better, ma'am,' she said; 'we will
+indeed.'</p>
+
+<p>"As the children walked home they said not one word to each other; and
+a very few days afterwards the family left the country, Mr. Bennet not
+having had even the decency to call and say good-bye to the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard was half-way between sixty and seventy when the Bennets
+left the country, and was supposed by many to be older, for she had
+dressed like an old woman for many years; her hair had long been gray,
+and she had always been a weakly person, very small and very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"She, however, continued to live in this house as many as seventeen
+years after the Bennets were gone, and every year till the last had her
+children's party; but a change<!-- Page 167 --> was coming on her household&mdash;Crop had
+died years before, and Betty afterwards always went to town in the
+market-cart; but what was the loss of Crop to the loss of Betty?</p>
+
+<p>"Betty was younger than Mrs. Howard, but she was called away before
+her; she had lived forty years with Mrs. Howard in this very house, and
+the loss could not be made up to her in this world.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard had a great-nephew, a surgeon, of the name of Johnson, who
+lived in a fair village, called Pangbourne, in Berkshire; and when he
+heard of the death of Betty, and how low his aunt was, he came to her,
+and persuaded her to leave the country, and go and reside near to him.
+She was at first unwilling to go, but was at last persuaded; she took
+nothing with her but her favourite chair, her old round table, her
+books, and her cabinet. Her nephew got her some very pleasant rooms in
+a house called the Wood House, about half a mile from the village,
+towards the hills which are near the place. That side of Pangbourne was
+in those days almost a continued wood coppice, with occasional tall
+trees towards the hills, and there was a narrow road and raised path
+through the wood to the town.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard's parlour had an old-fashioned bow-window in it, looking
+to the road, though somewhat raised above it; and <a name="tn_pg_203"></a><!-- TN: Period added
+to "Mrs"-->Mrs. Howard, as old people do, loved in fine weather to sit
+in the bow, and see the few people who passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Every day her kind nephew came to see her, and now and then she
+returned his visit; but she was getting very infirm, though she had
+lost neither sight nor hearing, could read and work as in her younger
+days, and having got over the first shock of losing Betty, and the
+fatigue of the change, her faith in God's love was making her as happy<!-- Page 168 -->
+as she had been before; she liked the people also who kept the house,
+and made herself very pleasant to them. Though she went to Pangbourne
+in the autumn, she did not, until the month of April, find the pleasure
+of sitting in the bow-window.</p>
+
+<p>"It was then that she first noticed two little girls passing and
+returning every day at certain hours to and from the village.</p>
+
+<p>"They were so near of a size that she thought they must be twins. They
+were very fair, and very pretty, and very neat. They wore light green
+stuff frocks, with lawn aprons and tippets, and little tight neat silk
+bonnets of the colour of their frocks. They both always carried a sort
+of satchel, as if they were going and coming from school; and there was
+often with them, when they went to the village, either a man or woman
+servant, such as might be supposed to belong to a farmhouse. They
+often, however, <a name="tn_pg_204"></a><!-- TN: Comma added after "however"-->passed by the window in the evening without a servant,
+and sometimes were met by a servant near the house. These little ones
+could not, from their appearance, have been more than seven years of
+age.</p>
+
+<p>"As Mrs. Howard watched them from day to day, she thought them the
+pleasantest little people she had seen for a long time; and all her
+ancient love for children, which age and weakness had almost made her
+fancy was nipped and blighted, began to spring up again and blossom as
+flowers in May. She wished to get acquainted with these fair ones, but
+she took her own way to do so.</p>
+
+<p>"She began one morning, when her window was open, by giving them a kind
+smile as they were walking gravely by, with a man in a smock-frock
+behind them. On seeing this smile they both stopped short and dropped
+formal curtseys.</p>
+
+<p>"From that time, for a week or more, these smiles and<!-- Page 169 --> these curtseys
+passed between the old lady and the twins twice every day regularly.
+Before the end of the week the children had left off looking grave at
+the lady, and gave smile for smile. You may be sure that Mrs. Howard,
+though she had not poor Betty and Crop to send on her errands, did
+manage to get some pretty toys ready to give these little girls
+whenever the time should come when she should think it right to make
+herself better acquainted with them; but she thought that she would
+observe their ways first, and in doing so she saw several things which
+pleased her. Once she saw them give a poor beggar some of what had been
+put in their satchels for their dinners; and she saw them another time
+pick up something which a very old man had dropped, and give it him as
+politely as they would have done to my lord judge, though it was only a
+potato which he had dropped from a basket. Seeing this it reminded her
+of the old man and his bundle of sticks, and of the ill-behaviour of
+Master Bennet; and then all those old days came fresh to her mind. Mrs.
+Howard had sent to a friend in London to get the toys&mdash;two dolls
+exactly alike, and the histories of Miss Jemima Meek and Peter Pippin
+were the things she sent for; and they had not arrived a week when Mrs.
+Howard found a use for them. It was the beginning of July, and a very
+hot close day; Mrs. Howard sat at her window, and saw the little ones
+go as usual towards the village; it was Saturday, and she knew that
+they would be back again about one, for it was a half-holiday. The heat
+became greater and greater towards noon; there was not a breath of air,
+and the sun was hidden by a red glaring mist.</p>
+
+<p>"'We shall have a tempest,' said Mrs. Howard to a maid who had been
+hired to wait upon her; 'I hope the little girls will get home before
+it comes on&mdash;have they far to go?'<!-- Page 170 --></p>
+
+<p>"When Mrs. Howard had explained what little girls she meant, the maid
+told her that they were the children of a farmer of the name of
+Symonds, and that the house was not a half-mile distant up the lane.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst Mrs. Howard was talking with the servant, the heavens had grown
+black, the clouds hung low; there was a creaking, groaning sort of
+sound among the trees, and the larger birds arose and flew heavily over
+the woods, uttering harsh cryings.</p>
+
+<p>"'It's coming,' said the servant; and at the same instant the two
+little ones appeared walking from the village.</p>
+
+<p>"'There they are,' cried Mrs. Howard; and at the same moment a
+tremendous flash of lightning covered the whole heavens, followed by a
+peal of awful thunder. Mrs. Howard put her head out of the window, and
+called the little girls, who, from very fright, were standing still.</p>
+
+<p>"They gladly obeyed the call, the maid went down to meet them, and the
+next minute they stood curtseying within the parlour-door. The maid had
+seen a boy who had been sent to meet them, and sent him back to tell
+his mistress that the Misses were with the lady, and that she would
+keep them till the storm was over.</p>
+
+<p>"'What lady am I to say?' asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Our lady,' replied the maid; 'Surgeon Johnson's aunt.'</p>
+
+<p>"The boy ran home, and told Mrs. Symonds not to be uneasy, for the
+little Misses were safe with Madam Johnson, who lodged at the Wood
+House; so Mrs. Symonds was made easy about her pretty daughters.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, my dears,' said Mrs. Howard, putting her hands out to the
+little people, 'I am glad to see you in my parlour.'<!-- Page 171 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Thank you, ma'am,' said one of them; and the other repeated the same
+words.</p>
+
+<p>"As they spoke they came near, and put each a hand into Mrs. Howard's.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let me look at you, my children,' said the old lady in her pleasant
+smiling way; 'you are like two lilies growing out of one root; I cannot
+tell one from the other; what are your names?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am Mary, ma'am,' said the eldest.</p>
+
+<p>"'And I am Amelia,' added the other.</p>
+
+<p>"'Amelia,' said Mrs. Howard, 'why, that is my name: but which is the
+oldest?'</p>
+
+<p>"'We came to our mother the same day,' replied Mary; 'but I came first,
+only a very little while though.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Indeed!' said Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Baynes had come into the parlour after the children, to see and
+hear what was going forward; and now she thought it time to put in a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, ma'am,' she said, 'they are twins; they are the only ones their
+mother ever had, and they are two pretty Misses, and very good
+children. Are not you very good, my precious dears?'</p>
+
+<p>"The two little ones turned to her; and answered both together:</p>
+
+<p>"'No, ma'am.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard rather wondered at this answer, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Not good, my dears, how is that?'</p>
+
+<p>"'We wish to be good, ma'am,' said one of the little girls, 'but we are
+not.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well to be sure!' remarked Mrs. Baynes; 'but you have a very good
+mamma, my little dears.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Mamma is good to us,' said Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"'But God is the only real good person,' added Amelia.<!-- Page 172 --></p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard was rather surprised, but as the storm was still getting
+more frightful, she moved her chair, shut the window, and sat in the
+middle of the room; the two little ones in their fear clinging to her,
+whilst she put an arm round each of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Baynes went out to close the windows, and they were left
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"Peal came after peal, and flash after flash; and the old lady and
+children trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"'We ought not to fear,' said Mrs. Howard; 'it is wrong; is not the
+lightning in the hands of God?'</p>
+
+<p>"'We will try not to be afraid,' said the little ones; and they clung
+closer to Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+<p>"And now there came a fearful hailstorm, patter, patter, against the
+window; and when the hail ceased the rain came pouring down.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, my loves, let us thank God,' said Mrs. Howard, 'the danger is
+past.'</p>
+
+<p>"The little ones, with that quick obedience which we see in children
+only who are well brought up, joined their hands and said, 'Thank God!'
+but they expressed some fear lest their mother should be frightened
+about them.</p>
+
+<p>"'We will see about that,' said Mrs. Howard; and she rang the hand-bell
+which always stood on the table, for bells were not then fixed on
+cranks and wires in every room as they are now.</p>
+
+<p>"Up came Mrs. Baynes again, and told the little ones that their mother
+knew where they were, for she had sent her a message by the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then we can stay, ma'am,' said the children, quite pleased: and Mrs.
+Howard asked to have the dinner sent up, requesting Mrs. Baynes to make
+up a little more from her own pantry, if she could.</p>
+
+<p>"'That shall be done, ma'am,' she answered; and she<!-- Page 173 --> added some eggs
+and bacon and a currant tart to Mrs. Howard's four bones of roast lamb.</p>
+
+<p>"'We should like to dine with you, ma'am,' said one of the little
+girls, 'and to drink tea with you sometimes.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard did not yet know one from the other, but she felt that all
+her old love for children was burning up again in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am old, my dears,' she answered, 'and cannot bear noise and bustle;
+if you can be quiet, I shall be glad to see you often, but if you tire
+me I cannot have you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I hope we shall be quiet,' they answered; and then they asked her if
+she was <i>very, very</i> old.</p>
+
+<p>"She told them she was eighty-two; and they said to each other, 'Then
+we <i>must</i> be very quiet.'</p>
+
+<p>"The maid came in to lay the cloth, and they seemed quite amused by
+looking at her. The table was very small, but they said there would be
+quite room; and by Mrs. Howard's direction they went to her bedroom,
+took off their bonnets, and the maid combed their pretty curling hair.</p>
+
+<p>"They behaved as well as children could possibly do at table, though
+they prattled a little, and told Mrs. Howard of the animals they had at
+home, their kittens and the old cat, and an owl in the garden called
+Ralph, and many other things. When the dinner was removed, Mrs. Howard
+said she had a great treat for them.</p>
+
+<p>"'What is it, ma'am?' they said.</p>
+
+<p>"'Something very nice,' replied the old lady; and going to the corner
+cupboard, she brought out a doll's cradle, and a small trunk full of
+doll's clothes, and the two new dolls both wrapped in the paper in
+which they had come from London.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now,' she said, 'these are dolls which I keep for my visitors, and
+when you are here you may play with them.<!-- Page 174 --> I do not call them yours,
+only when you are here; but you may choose which you will call your own
+in this house. Their names are Mary and Amelia.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, ma'am! Oh, ma'am!' cried the children; they were too glad to say
+another word.</p>
+
+<p>"'You may take out the clothes from the trunk and dress them; but,
+before you go, you must put on their night-dresses, and put them to bed
+in the cradle, and restore all the other clothes to the trunk.' The
+little ones quite trembled with joy; they were past speaking. 'Now,'
+said Mrs. Howard, 'go into the bow-window. The lightning is past. I
+must keep in my chair, and you must not disturb me. If the day was
+finer I should let you go into the garden to play, but to-day you
+cannot.'</p>
+
+<a name="image_175"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/175.png" border="0"
+ width="467" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>The happy little girls went with the dolls into the
+bow-window.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_174a_text">Page 174</a>.</p></div>
+
+
+<p><a name="page_174a_text"></a>"The happy little girls went with the dolls into the bow-window, and
+Mrs. Howard got her usual short sleep. They did not make any noise. In
+all their behaviour they showed that they had been well brought up.</p>
+
+<p>"They drank tea with Mrs. Howard, and were very busy after tea in
+showing all the clothes to their old kind friend, and in packing them
+up in the trunk, and putting the dolls in the cradle, and restoring all
+the things to the place from whence they had been taken.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard saw them kiss the dolls, and heard them wish them a
+good-night when they had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Symonds had sent her green market cart and cloaks for her little
+girls. When the cart came they both kissed Mrs. Howard, and asked her
+if they had been quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"'Very quiet, my dears,' she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then may we come again?'</p>
+
+<p>"'You may, my darlings,' answered the old lady; 'and next Saturday
+shall be the day, if all is well.'</p>
+
+<p>"The fair little creatures did come on the day fixed,<!-- Page 175 --><!-- Page 176 --><!-- Page 177 --> and the man
+who fetched them home that night brought Mrs. Howard a small cream
+cheese and several pats of fresh butter, with many, many thanks from
+Mrs. Symonds for her great kindness to her children.</p>
+
+<p>"From the day of the thunderstorm till the end of the summer the little
+girls spent Saturday afternoon, every week, with Mrs. Howard, and now
+and then stopped an hour with her on other days; and never passed the
+window without speaking to her, often coming in with flowers, or fruit,
+or a fresh egg, or some little thing from the garden or poultry-yard.
+Thus such a friendship grew up between the old lady and these little
+girls, that one might have thought that Mrs. Howard must have been
+their grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>"Often and often she would hear them read a chapter, or repeat a hymn,
+and do what she could to improve their minds; she taught them to sing
+some fine old psalm tunes, and she also taught them some new stitches
+in the samplers they were working. Many times she walked between them a
+little way in the wood, whilst they carried the dolls, and in these
+walks she often told them stories, so that they loved her more and more
+every day, and tried more and more to please her.</p>
+
+<p>"All this time Mrs. Symonds had been so busy with the work of the farm
+that she had not found time to come herself to thank Mrs. Howard for
+all she was doing for her little ones; and it was rather strange that
+all this time she had understood that the kind old lady's name was
+Johnson. The children never called her anything but 'our nice lady,'
+and never thought of any other name for her.</p>
+
+<p>"But the harvest-time being over, Mr. Symonds told his wife that she
+must not put off calling on the lady any longer.<!-- Page 178 --></p>
+
+<p>"'And be sure,' he said, 'that you take something nice in your hand, or
+let the boy carry it after you; some nice cakes and butter pats, or
+anything else; and you may as well go and meet the children as they
+come home this evening, and go in with them.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Symonds was one of those old-fashioned wives who never went
+anywhere but to church, and as her church was not at Pangbourne she
+seldom passed the Wood House. She, however, made up her basket of
+presents, and having dressed herself neatly, she took the boy and went
+to meet her children.</p>
+
+<p>"She met them a little above the Wood House, and they turned back with
+her, and soon brought her to the door of Mrs. Howard's parlour: there
+they knocked, and the old lady having called to them to come in, the
+twins entered, leading their mother.</p>
+
+<p>"But how great was their surprise when their mother, at the sight of
+Mrs. Howard, uttered a cry, ran forwards and threw her arms round the
+old lady's neck.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, dear, dear Mrs. Howard,' she said, 'is it you? Can it be you?'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard did not know Mrs. Symonds, and as she drew herself civilly
+from her arms, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Indeed, ma'am, I have not the pleasure of knowing you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Not remember Polly Bennet?' replied Mrs. Symonds, 'but I remember
+you, my best and dearest friend, and shall remember you, for I have
+cause to do so, when time shall be no more.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard now herself came forward and kissed Mrs. Symonds. The
+tears stood in the old lady's eyes, and she placed her old thin hands
+in the other's.</p>
+
+<p>"'And are you,' she said, 'the mother of these dear little girls? and
+have I lived near you so long and not<!-- Page 179 --> known you? Now I think I can
+trace the features; sit down, my dear friend, and tell me all about
+yourself and your family.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I have not much to say,' answered Mrs. Symonds; 'my parents are dead,
+and my brother living far off: and I have been blessed beyond my
+deservings in a good husband and these dear children.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Dear, indeed,' said Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+<p>"'But how can I value enough what you have done for me, Mrs. Howard?'
+said Mrs. Symonds, 'and through me, in some sort, to my mother and
+father before their death.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I do not understand you,' said Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Symonds then told the old lady how she had been affected by the
+last kindness which she had shown to her and her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"'When you sent for us, dear madam,' she said, 'we accepted your
+invitation because we expected presents; but with presents we expected
+also, what we had well deserved, a severe lecture. But when you spoke
+to us, as you did, with such amazing kindness&mdash;when you even almost
+begged our pardons if you had been hard upon us, which you never
+were&mdash;when you spoke to us of our Saviour, whilst your eyes filled with
+tears, we were cut to the heart and filled with shame, and we then
+resolved to read the Bibles you gave us. And we never could forget your
+words.</p>
+
+<p>"'The work, indeed, is of God; but you, dear lady, were made the
+minister of it in the commencement. You were the first person who made
+me and my brother to understand that the new spirit imparted by God to
+His children is the spirit of love.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Symonds said much more; indeed she went on speaking till Mrs.
+Howard burst into tears of joy and thankfulness.<!-- Page 180 --></p>
+
+<p>"The little ones were frightened to see their mother and Mrs. Howard
+weeping, and could not at first be made to understand that they were
+crying for very joy. When they understood that Mrs. Howard was an old
+dear friend of their mother's, they became happy again.</p>
+
+<p>"What a pleasant party there was that evening in the bow-window! the
+white cakes and fresh butter and cream were added to the feast; and
+what a delightful story was there to tell to Mr. Symonds when his wife
+and children got home!</p>
+
+<p>"'Tell the old lady,' said Mr. Symonds, 'that I should be ever ready to
+serve her to the last drop of my blood.'</p>
+
+<p>"From that time," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "till the death of Mrs.
+Howard, which happened in her ninetieth year, Mr. and Mrs. Symonds were
+a son and daughter to her. Mary and Amelia never both left her;
+sometimes one, and sometimes both, being continually with her."</p>
+
+<p>"This is a beautiful story," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it was longer," said Henry; "can't you tell us more, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not now, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "we must go in now; and,
+indeed, I know not that I have any more to tell."</p>
+
+<p>It was late when the family got home. As they were returning, Mrs.
+Fairchild told Mr. Fairchild the story of old Mrs. Howard, which
+pleased him much.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 181 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Fair_Little_Lady" id="The_Fair_Little_Lady"></a>The Fair Little Lady</h3>
+
+<a name="image_181"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/181.png" border="0" width="576" height="336" ALT="The coach came in sight"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> was not long after that delightful day at Mrs. Goodriche's, when the
+children, having done their morning lessons, had just gone out of the
+hall-door, on their way to Henry's arbour, when they heard the wheels
+of a carriage sounding from a distance.</p>
+
+<p>The sound was not like that of a waggon, which goes along heavily,
+crashing and breaking the stones in its passage, whilst the feet of the
+horses come down with a heavy beat upon the ground; but horses and
+wheels went lightly, and as if the carriage was coming near quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Very few light carriages passed that way, and therefore when anything
+of the kind was heard or seen, everybody left off what they were doing
+to look, let them be ever so busy. Lucy and Emily and Henry ran down to
+the gate which opened on the road. Henry climbed to the top of the
+highest bar; but the little girls stood on one side, where they were
+half hidden by a rose-bush.</p>
+
+<p>When they were got there the carriage was heard more<!-- Page 182 --> plainly: and
+Henry was hardly fixed upon the top of the gate before John came up,
+with a hoe and a basket in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"So, Master Henry," he said, "you are come to see the coach; I just
+caught sight of it as it went round the corner below, and I promise you
+it is worth seeing; it beats Sir Charles Noble's to nothing&mdash;but here
+they come."</p>
+
+<p>At first there appeared a groom, dressed in a glazed hat, and a livery,
+and shining boots; and he was riding a fine horse, and he went forward
+quickly; he had several dogs running by him. Lucy and Emily were glad
+that John, with his hoe, was close by, for they did not love strange
+dogs.</p>
+
+<p>But the groom and his dogs were very soon out of sight; he was riding
+on to see that the gates were open where the coach was going.
+Immediately afterwards the coach came in sight&mdash;and a fine new coach it
+was; and there were four horses, with postillions whipping and cutting
+away; and ladies and gentlemen in the coach.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily and Henry did not look at the grown people, but at a
+very pretty little lady, of Emily's age perhaps, who was looking out of
+the window on their side.</p>
+
+<p>They saw her face, which was fair and very pale, and they saw her
+curling light hair, and her blue satin hat, which had white feathers in
+it; and they knew that she saw them, for she rather smiled and looked
+pleased, and turned to speak about them, they thought, to the lady next
+to her. But the coach was gone in a minute, not rattling like a
+hack-chaise, but making a sort of low rumbling sound, and that sound
+was not heard long.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are those?" said Henry, as he stood at the very top of the gate,
+like a bird upon a perch, "who are those fine people?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are the great folks," replied John, "who are come<!-- Page 183 --> to live at Sir
+Charles Noble's. They call them Honourable&mdash;by way of distinction&mdash;the
+Honourable Mr. and Mrs. Darwell, and they are immensely rich; and that
+is their only child, for they have but one&mdash;and she, to be sure, is no
+small treasure, as people say, and they never can make enough of her."</p>
+
+<p>"What is her name, John?" asked Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't ask me, Miss," replied John; "for though I have heard the name,
+I could not pretend to speak it properly, it is so unaccountably fine."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to hear it," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"And that you will be sure to do soon, Miss," answered John; "for all
+the country is talking about the family, and they say they are uncommon
+grand."</p>
+
+<p>"But, John," said Henry, "when will you come and nail the benches in my
+hut? Will you come now? Shall I fetch the hammer and nails?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, master," returned John, "you need not fetch them, for I have them
+here in this basket, and was just going when I saw the coach."</p>
+
+<p>"Away then," cried Henry, jumping from the top of the gate, and running
+before, whilst John followed close behind him, and Lucy and Emily came
+afterwards, talking of the fair little lady.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 184 -->
+<h3><a name="Story_of_a_Holiday" id="Story_of_a_Holiday"></a>Story of a Holiday</h3>
+
+<a name="image_184"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/184.png" border="0" width="583" height="340" ALT="Henry looked along the road"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">One</span> day a letter came from Mrs. Goodriche to say that she was going
+early the next day to the town, in a hired chaise, and that she hoped
+to be back again in the evening; she added that, as she should be quite
+alone, it would be a great pleasure to her to take up Mrs. Fairchild
+and one of the little people to go with her to town, and she would set
+them down again at their gate.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild thought this a very neighbourly offer, and it was soon
+settled that she should go, and take Lucy with her, and that Mr.
+Fairchild should get the horse he often rode and attend the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy very much pressed her mother to take Emily instead of herself, but
+it was Lucy's turn to go out when there was a scheme only for one, and
+I don't think that Emily would have taken it from her on any account.
+So an answer was written to Mrs. Goodriche, and her kind invitation
+accepted.</p>
+
+<p>There was a good deal of talking and settling with Lucy<!-- Page 185 --> about what
+Emily and Henry wanted her to get for them in the town, before they
+went to bed. Emily had one shilling and sixpence, and Henry tenpence,
+and it was of great consequence to them that this money should be spent
+to the best advantage.</p>
+
+<p>It was at last settled that Lucy should choose a book for each of
+them&mdash;Henry's book was to be about a boy&mdash;and the rest of their money,
+if any was left, was to be spent as Lucy thought might please them
+best. So she took their money, and put it into her purse with her own.
+She had two shillings, and she had settled it in her own mind that she
+would buy nothing for herself, but spend some, if not all of it, for
+her sister and brother.</p>
+
+<p>The family were all up at six o'clock, and soon afterwards they might
+be seen seated before the open window of the parlour at breakfast,
+those who were going being quite ready.</p>
+
+<p>Emily and Henry, who were to be left, were to have no lessons to do,
+but their father and mother advised them not to tire themselves in the
+early part of the day by running about, but to amuse themselves during
+the very hottest hours with something quiet. Mr. Fairchild also
+reminded them that they must not go beyond the bounds in which they
+were always allowed to play.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we shall be good, mamma," said Emily, "I hope we shall!" And
+Henry said the same.</p>
+
+<p>Henry ran out to the gate to look for the carriage after he had taken
+breakfast, and he got to the very highest bar, and looked along the
+road, which he could see a great way, because it came down a steep hill
+from Mrs. Goodriche's house.</p>
+
+<p>It was hardly more than a black speck on the white road when he first
+saw it, and then he lost sight of it as it descended into the valley,
+and he heard it rattle and jingle<!-- Page 186 --> before he got sight of it again; but
+when he was sure of it, he ran to the house, and you might have heard
+Lucy's name from the very cellar to the roof.</p>
+
+<p>Emily was with Lucy in their little room, and she was holding her
+gloves whilst Lucy tied her bonnet, and she was talking over the things
+that were to be bought, when their brother's voice came up the stairs
+as loud and sharp as if a stage-coach was coming, which would not wait
+one moment for those who were going.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we shall not get into a scrape to-day," said Emily: "Henry has
+forgotten the day when mamma and papa went out, and we behaved so ill;
+what can we do to keep ourselves out of mischief?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy had no time to answer, for Henry was at the door, and there was
+such a rub-a-dub-dub upon it that her voice could not have been heard.
+At the same minute the hack-chaise had come jingling up to the gate,
+and Mrs. Goodriche was looking out with her pleasant smiling face.
+John, too, had brought the horse to the gate, and everybody who
+belonged to the house was soon out upon the grass-plot; the dog was
+there, and quite as set up as Henry himself; and Betty came too, though
+nobody knew why. Mrs. Fairchild got in first, and then Lucy; and
+everybody said good-bye as if those who were going were not to come
+back for a month; and the post-boy cracked his whip, and Mr. Fairchild
+mounted his horse, and away they went.</p>
+
+<p>Emily and Henry watched them till the turn of the road prevented them
+from seeing them any longer; and then Henry said:</p>
+
+<p>"Let us run to the chesnut-trees at the top of the round hill, and then
+we shall be able to see the carriage again going up on the other side;
+I saw it come down from Mrs. Goodriche's."<!-- Page 187 --></p>
+
+<p>"Stay but one moment," said Emily, and she ran upstairs, put on her
+bonnet and tippet, and was down again in one minute, with her doll on
+her arm and a little book in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come," said Henry, and away they ran along a narrow path, among
+the shrubs in the garden, out at a little gate, and up the green slope.
+They were very soon at the top of the small hill, and under the shade
+of the chesnut-trees. They passed through the grove to the side which
+was farthest from their house, and then they sat down on the dry and
+bare root of one of the trees.</p>
+
+<p>For a minute or more they could not see the carriage, because it was
+down in the valley beneath them, and the road there was much shaded by
+willows and wych-elms and other trees that love the neighbourhood of
+water, for the brook which turned the mill was down there. But when the
+carriage began to go up on the other side, they saw it quite plain;
+there was the post-boy in his yellow jacket, jogging up and down on his
+saddle, and Mr. Fairchild sometimes a little before and sometimes a
+little behind the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was still in very high spirits; he was apt to be set up by any
+change, and when he was set up, he was almost sure to get into a
+scrape, unless something could be thought of to settle him down
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Emily had thought of something, and got it ready; but whilst the
+carriage was in sight nothing was to be done, for Henry had picked up a
+branch which had fallen from one of the trees, and as he sat on the
+root, was jogging up and down, waving his branch like a whip, and
+imitating those sort of odd noises which drivers make to their horses;
+such as gee-up! so-ho! and now and then he made a sort of smacking with
+his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you driving a waggon or a coach?" asked Emily.<!-- Page 188 --></p>
+
+<p>"A coach, to be sure," said Henry; "don't you see that I have got a
+chaise from the Red Lion, and that I am driving Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs.
+Goodriche and Miss Lucy Fairchild to the town, and here we go on?"</p>
+
+<p>The carriage was long getting up the hill, for it was a very steep one;
+but when it had reached the top, it got in among trees again, and was
+soon out of sight; and then Emily said:</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Henry, I am going to curl my doll's hair, and dress her over
+again, for she is not tidy, and I have got a little book here which you
+may read to me."</p>
+
+<p>"What book is it?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"You never saw it," she answered; "mamma found it yesterday in a box
+where she keeps many old things&mdash;she did not know that she had saved
+it&mdash;it was hers when she was a little child, and she supposed that it
+was lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see it, Emily," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you read it to me then?" asked Emily.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was a good-natured boy, and loved his sisters, and had much
+pleasure in doing what they wished him to do; he therefore said at
+once, "Yes," threw away his branch of fir, and took the book.</p>
+
+<p>This little book, which Mrs. Fairchild had found in her old chest,
+could not have been much less than a hundred years old; it was the size
+of a penny book, and had a covering of gilt paper, with many old cuts;
+its title was, "The History of the Little Boy who, when running after
+the Echo, found his Papa."</p>
+
+<p>When Henry had seen how many pictures there were, and when he had read
+the title, he was quite in a hurry to begin the story, and Emily was so
+much pleased at hearing it, although she had read it before, that she
+forgot her doll altogether, and let her lie quietly on her lap.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 189 -->
+<h3><a name="Little_Edwy_and_the_Echo" id="Little_Edwy_and_the_Echo"></a>Little Edwy and the Echo</h3>
+
+<a name="image_189"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/189.png" border="0" width="578" height="350" ALT="He turned away from the terrible bird"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"It</span> was in the time of our good Queen Anne, when none of the trees in
+the great forest of Norwood, near London, had begun to be cut down,
+that a very rich gentleman and lady lived there: their name was Lawley.</p>
+
+<p>"They had a fine old house and large garden, with a wall all round it,
+and the woods were so close upon this garden, that some of the high
+trees spread their branches over the top of the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, this lady and gentleman were very proud and very grand, and
+despised all people poorer than themselves, and there were none whom
+they despised more than the gipsies, who lived in the forest all about.</p>
+
+<p>"There was no place in all England then so full of gipsies as the
+forest of Norwood.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had been married many years, and had no children;
+at length they had one son&mdash;they<!-- Page 190 --> called him Edwy, and they felt they
+could not make too much of him, or dress him too fine.</p>
+
+<p>"When he was just old enough to run about without help, he used to wear
+his trousers inlaid with the finest lace, with golden studs and laced
+robings; he had a plume of feathers in his cap, which was of velvet,
+with a button of gold to fasten it up in front under the feathers, so
+that whoever saw him with the servants who attended him, used to say,
+'Whose child is that?'</p>
+
+<p>"He was a pretty boy, too, and, when his first sorrow came, was still
+too young to have learned any of the proud ways of his father and
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"No one is so rich as to be above the reach of trouble, therefore pride
+and self-sufficiency are never suitable to the state of man.</p>
+
+<p>"Trouble was long in coming to Mr. and Mrs. Lawley, but when it came it
+was only the more terrible.</p>
+
+<p>"One day, when the proud parents had been absent some hours on a visit
+to a friend a few miles distant, Edwy was nowhere to be found on their
+return&mdash;his waiting-maid was gone, and had taken away his finest
+clothes; at least, these were also missing.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor father and mother were almost beside themselves with grief,
+and all the gentlemen and magistrates about rose up together to find
+the child, and discover those who had stolen him, but all in vain; of
+course, the gipsies were suspected and well examined, but nothing could
+be made of it; nor was it ever made out in what way the little boy was
+got off; but got off he had been by the gipsies, and carried away to a
+country among hills, on the borders of the two shires of Worcester and
+Hereford."</p>
+
+<p>"Did not I know it?" cried Henry, as he stopped to turn over a leaf; "I
+knew it from the first that the gipsies had him."<!-- Page 191 --></p>
+
+<p>"In that country," he continued, as he read on, "there is a valley
+where two watercourses meet deep in a bottom; where there are many
+trees, and many bushes, and much broken irregular ground, where also
+there are rocks, and caves, and holes in these rocks, and every
+possible convenience for the haunt of wild people. To this place the
+gipsies carried the little boy, and there they kept him, all the
+following winter, warm in a hut with some of their own children.</p>
+
+<p>"They had stripped him of his velvet, and feathers, and lace, and gold
+clasps, and studs, and clothed him in rags, and daubed his fair skin
+with mud; but they fed him well; and after a little while he seemed to
+be unconscious of any change.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, the part which comes next of this true and wonderful history has
+nothing to go upon but the confused and imperfect recollections of a
+little child.</p>
+
+<p>"The story nowhere tells the age of Edwy when he was stolen, but he had
+been lost to his parents from the time that the leaves in the forest of
+Norwood were becoming sear and falling off, till the sweet spring was
+far advanced towards the summer.</p>
+
+<p>"Probably the cunning gipsies had hoped that during the long months of
+winter the little child would quite forget the few words which he had
+learned to speak distinctly in his father's house, or that he would
+forget also to call himself Edwy; or to cry, as he remembered that he
+often did, 'Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa! come to little Edwy.' The
+gipsies tried to teach him that his name was not Edwy, but Jack or Tom,
+or some such name; and to make him say mam and dad, and call himself
+the gipsy boy, born in a barn. But after he had learned all these
+words, whenever anything hurt or frightened him, he would cry again,
+'Mamma! papa!<!-- Page 192 --> come to Edwy.' The gipsies could not take him out, of
+course, whilst there was danger of his breaking out in this way; and
+after he came to that hut in the valley, he did not remember ever going
+out with any of the people when they went their rounds of begging, and
+pilfering, and buying rags; telling fortunes meanwhile, as gipsies
+always do.</p>
+
+<p>"When left behind, there were always two or three children, a great
+girl, an old woman, or a sick person, staying with him, until the day
+which set him free from his troubles. It was in the month of May. Who
+would not like to live like a gipsy in a wood, if all the year round
+was like that month of May? It was about noon, and Edwy, who had been
+up before the sun, to breakfast with those who were going out for their
+day's begging and stealing, had fallen asleep on a bed of dry leaves in
+the hut, as soon as most of the people were gone; one old woman, who
+was too lame to tramp, was left with him.</p>
+
+<p>"He slept long, and when he awoke he sat up on his bed of leaves, and
+looked about him to see who was with him; he saw no one within the hut,
+and no one at the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Little children have great dread of being alone. He listened to hear
+if there were any voices without, but he could hear nothing but the
+rush of a waterfall close by, and the distant cry of sheep and lambs.
+The next thing the little one remembered that he did, was to get up and
+go out of the door of the hut. The hut was built of rude rafters and
+wattles in the front of a cave or hole in a rock; it was down low in
+the glen at the edge of the brook, a little below the waterfall. When
+the child came out, he looked anxiously for somebody, and was more and
+more frightened when he could see no creature of his own kind amid all
+the green leaves, and all along the water's edge above and below.<!-- Page 193 --></p>
+
+<p>"Where was the old woman all this time? who can say? but perhaps not
+far off; perhaps she might have been deaf, and, though near, did not
+hear the noise made by the child when he came out of the hut.</p>
+
+<p>"Edwy did not remember how long he stood by the brook; but this is
+certain that the longer he felt himself to be alone, the more
+frightened he became, and soon began to fancy terrible things. There
+was towards the top of the rock from which the waters fell a huge old
+yew-tree, or rather bush, which hung forward over the fall. It looked
+very black in comparison with the tender green of the fresh leaves of
+the neighbouring trees, and the white and glittering spray of the
+water. Edwy looked at it and fancied that it moved; his eye was
+deceived by the dancing motion of the water.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst he looked and looked, some great black bird came out from the
+midst of it uttering a harsh croaking noise. The little boy could bear
+no more; he turned away from the terrible bush and the terrible bird,
+and ran down the valley, leaving hut and all behind, and crying, as he
+always did when hurt or frightened, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come, oh, come to
+Edwy!'</p>
+
+<p>"He ran and ran, whilst his little bare feet were pierced with pebbles,
+and his legs torn with briars, until he came to where the valley became
+narrower, and where one might have thought the rocks and banks on each
+side had been cleft by the hand of a giant, so nicely would they have
+fitted could they have been brought together again. The brook ran along
+a pebble channel between these rocks and banks, and there was a rude
+path which went in a line with the brook; a path which was used only by
+the gipsies and a few poor cottagers, whose shortest way from the great
+road at the end of the valley to their own houses was by that solitary
+way.<!-- Page 194 --></p>
+
+<p>"As Edwy ran, he still cried, 'Mamma! mamma! papa! papa! Oh, come, oh,
+come to Edwy!'&mdash;and he kept up his cry from time to time as he found
+breath to utter it, till his young voice began to be returned in a sort
+of hollow murmur.</p>
+
+<p>"When first he observed this, he was even more frightened than before;
+he stood and looked round, and then he turned with his back towards the
+hut, and ran and ran again, till he got deeper amongst the rocks. He
+stopped again, for the high black banks frightened him still more, and
+setting up his young voice he called again, and his call was the same
+as before.</p>
+
+<p>"He had scarcely finished his cry, when a voice, from whence he knew
+not, seemed to answer him; it said, 'Come, come to Edwy;' it said it
+once, it said it twice, it said it a third time, but it seemed each
+time more distant.</p>
+
+<p>"The child looked up, the child looked round, he could never describe
+what he felt; but in his great agitation he cried more loudly, 'Oh,
+papa! mamma! Come, come to poor Edwy!' It was an echo, the echo of the
+rocks which repeated the words of the child; and the more loudly he
+spoke, the more perfect was the echo; but he could catch only the few
+last words; this time he only heard, 'Poor, poor Edwy!' Edwy had not
+lost all recollection of some far distant happy home, and of some kind
+parents far away; and now at that minute he believed that what the echo
+said came from them, and that they were calling to him, and saying,
+'Poor, poor Edwy!' But where were those who called to him? alas! he
+could not tell. Were they in the holes in the rocks?&mdash;his mind was then
+used to the notion of people living in caves&mdash;or were they at the top
+of the rocks? or were they up high in the blue bright heavens?</p>
+
+<p>"It would have been a sorrowful sight to behold that<!-- Page 195 --> pretty boy
+looking up at the rocks and the sky, and down among the reeds, and
+sedges, and alders by the side of the brook, for some persons to whom
+the voice might belong; in hopes of seeing that same lady he sometimes
+dreamed of, and that kind gentleman he used to call papa; and to see
+how the tears gushed from his eyes when he could not find anyone.</p>
+
+<p>"After a while he called again, and called louder still. 'Come, come,'
+was his cry again, 'Edwy is lost! lost! lost!' Echo repeated the last
+words as before, 'Lost! lost! lost!' and now the voice sounded from
+behind him, for he had moved round a corner of a rock.</p>
+
+<p>"The child heard the voice behind, and turned and ran that way; and
+stopped and called again, and then heard it the other way; and next he
+shrieked from fear, and echo returned the shriek once more, and thrice,
+finishing off with broken sounds, which to Edwy's ears appeared as if
+somebody a long way off was mocking him.</p>
+
+<p>"His terror was now at its highest; indeed he could never remember what
+he did next, or when he turned to go down the valley; but turn he did,
+after having run back many paces.</p>
+
+<p>"His steps, however, were guided by One whose eye was never off him,
+even his kind and heavenly Father; and on he went, neither heeding
+stones nor briars; every step taking him nearer to the mouth of the
+glen, and the entrance on the great high road.</p>
+
+<p>"And who had been driving along that road in a fine carriage with four
+horses?"</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Who?" cried Henry Fairchild, turning over another leaf; "who, but his
+own papa?&mdash;but I must go on."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had given up all hopes of finding their little boy
+near Norwood, and they had set<!-- Page 196 --> out in their coach to go all over the
+country in search of him. They had come the day before to a town near
+to the place where the gipsies had kept Edwy all the winter, and there
+they had made many inquiries, particularly about any gipsies who might
+be in the habit of haunting that country: but people there were afraid
+of the gipsies, and did not like to say anything which might bring them
+into trouble with them. The gipsies never did much mischief in the way
+of stealing near their own huts, and were always civil when civilly
+treated.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor father and mother, therefore, could get no information there;
+and the next morning they had come on across the country, and along the
+road into which the gipsies' valley opened.</p>
+
+<p>"Wherever these unhappy parents saw a wild country, full of woods, and
+where the ground was rough and broken, they thought, if possible, more
+than ever of their lost child; and at those times Mrs. Lawley always
+began to weep&mdash;indeed, she had done little else since she had missed
+her boy. The travellers first came in sight of the gipsies' valley, and
+the vast sweep of woods on each side of it, just as the horses had
+dragged the coach to the top of a very high hill or bank over which the
+road went; and then also those in the coach saw before them a very
+steep descent, so steep that it was thought right to put the drag upon
+the wheels.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawley proposed that they should get out and walk down the hill.
+Mrs. Lawley consented; the coach stopped, everyone got down from it,
+and Mr. Lawley walked first, followed closely by his servant William;
+whilst Mrs. Lawley came on afterwards, leaning on the arm of her
+favourite little maid Barbara. The poor parents, when their grief
+pressed most heavily on them, were easier with other people than with
+each other.<!-- Page 197 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Barbara!' said Mrs. Lawley, when the others were gone forward;
+'when I remember the pretty ways of my boy, and think of his lovely
+face and gentle temper, and of the way in which I lost him, my heart is
+ready to break; and I often remember, with shame and sorrow, the pride
+in which I indulged, before it pleased God to bring this dreadful
+affliction upon me.'</p>
+
+<p>"The little maid who walked by her wept too; but she said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, dear mistress! if God would give us but the grace to trust in
+Him, our grief would soon be at an end. I wish we could trust in Him,
+for He can and will do everything for us to make us happy.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ah, Barbara!' said the lady; and she could add no more&mdash;she went on
+in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawley walked on before with the servant. He, too, was thinking of
+his boy, and his eye ranged over the wild scene on the right hand of
+the road. He saw a raven rise from the wood&mdash;he heard its croaking
+noise&mdash;it was perhaps the same black bird that had frightened Edwy.</p>
+
+<p>"William remarked to his master that there was a sound of falling
+water, and said there were sure to be brooks running in the valley. Mr.
+Lawley was, however, too sad to talk to his servant; he could only say,
+'I don't doubt it,' and then they both walked on in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"They came to the bottom of the valley even before the carriage got
+there. They found that the brook came out upon the road in that place,
+and that the road was carried over it by a little stone bridge.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawley stopped upon the bridge; he leaned on the low wall, and
+looked upon the dark mouth of the glen. William stood a little behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"William was young; his hearing and all his senses were<!-- Page 198 --> very quick. As
+he stood there, he thought he heard a voice; but the rattling of the
+coach-wheels over the stony road prevented his hearing it distinctly.
+He heard the cry again; but the coach was coming nearer, and making it
+still more difficult for him to catch the sound.</p>
+
+<p>"His master was surprised to see him vault over the low parapet of the
+bridge the next moment, and run up the narrow path which led up the
+glen.</p>
+
+<p>"It was the voice of Edwy, and the answering echo, which William had
+heard. He had got at just a sufficient distance from the sound of the
+coach-wheels at the moment when the echo had returned poor little
+Edwy's wildest shriek.</p>
+
+<p>"The sound was fearful, broken, and not natural; but William was not
+easily put out; he looked back to his master, and his look was such
+that Mr. Lawley immediately left the bridge to follow him, though
+hardly knowing why.</p>
+
+<p>"They both went on up the glen, the man being many yards before the
+master. Another cry and another answering echo again reached the ear of
+William, proceeding as from before him. The young man again looked at
+his master and ran on. The last cry had been heard by Mr. Lawley, who
+immediately began to step with increasing quickness after his servant,
+though, as the valley turned and turned among the rocks, he soon lost
+sight of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawley was by this time come into the very place where the echo
+had most astonished Edwy, because each reverberation which it had made
+seemed to sound from opposite sides; and here he heard the cry again,
+and heard it distinctly. It was the voice of a child first, crying,
+'No! no! no! Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh, come!'&mdash;and then a fearful
+shriek or laugh of some wild woman's voice.<!-- Page 199 --><!-- Page 200 --><!-- Page 201 --></p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawley rushed on, winding swiftly between the rocks, whilst
+various voices, in various tones, which were all repeated in strange
+confusion by the echoes, rang in his ears; but amid all these sounds he
+thought only of that one plaintive cry, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh,
+come!' Suddenly he came out to where he saw his servant again, and with
+him an old woman, who looked like a witch. She had the hand of a little
+ragged child, to which she held firmly, though the baby, for such
+almost he was, struggled hard to get free, crying, 'Papa! mamma! Oh,
+come! Oh, come!'</p>
+
+<p>"William was arguing with the woman, and he had got the other hand of
+the child.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lawley rushed on, trembling with hope, trembling with fear&mdash;could
+this boy be his Edwy? William had entered his service since he had lost
+his child; he could not therefore know him; nor could he himself be
+sure&mdash;so strange, so altered, did the baby look.</p>
+
+<p>"But Edwy knew his own father in a moment; he could not run to meet
+him, for he was tightly held by the gipsy, but he cried:</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, papa! papa is come to Edwy!'</p>
+
+<p>"The old woman knew Mr. Lawley, and saw that the child knew him. She
+had been trying to persuade William that the boy was her grandchild;
+but it was all up with her now; she let the child's hand go, and whilst
+he was flying to his father's arms, she disappeared into some
+well-known hole or hollow in the neighbouring rocks.</p>
+
+<p>"Who can pretend to describe the feelings of the father when he felt
+the arms of his long-lost boy clinging round his neck, and his little
+heart beating against his own? or who could say what the mother felt
+when she saw her husband come out from the mouth of the valley,
+bearing<!-- Page 202 --> in his arms the little ragged child? <a name="page_202a_text"></a>Could it be her own&mdash;her
+Edwy? She could hardly be sure of her happiness till the boy held out
+his arms to her, and cried, 'Mamma! mamma!'"</p>
+
+<a name="image_199"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/199.png" border="0"
+ width="468" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Could it be her own&mdash;her Edwy? She could hardly be
+sure of her happiness.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_202a_text">Page 202</a>.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"This story is too short," said Henry; "I wish it had been twice as
+long; I want to hear more of that little boy and of the gipsies."</p>
+
+<p>"It is getting very hot," said Emily, when they had done talking; "let
+us go into the house, and we will not come out again until it is cool.
+I hope we shall not be naughty to-day, Henry, but do what papa and
+mamma will think right."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, then," replied Henry. And they went back to the house and spent
+the rest of the morning in their play-room: and I am sure that they
+were very happy in a quiet way, for Henry was making a grotto of moss
+and shells, fixed on a board with paste; and Emily was just beginning
+to make a little hermit to be in the grotto, till they both changed
+their minds a little, and turned the grotto into a gipsy's hut, and
+instead of a hermit an old woman was made to stand at the door.</p>
+
+<a name="image_202"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<img src="images/202.png" border="0" width="420" height="347" ALT="&quot;Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!&quot;"></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 203 -->
+<h3><a name="Further_Story_of_a_Holiday" id="Further_Story_of_a_Holiday"></a>Further Story of a Holiday</h3>
+
+<a name="image_203"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/203.png" border="0" width="582" height="324" ALT="&quot;She will get amongst the shrubs,&quot; said Emily"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> evening was very cool and pleasant, when Emily and Henry went out
+to play. Mary Bush had given Henry a young magpie; she had taught it to
+say a few words, to the great delight of the children. It could say,
+"Good morning!" "How do you do?" "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry."
+"Give Mag her dinner." "A bit of meat for poor Mag." To be sure the
+bird's words did not come out very clearly. But it was quite enough, as
+Henry said, if he understood them.</p>
+
+<p>Mag had a large wicker cage, which generally hung up on a nail in the
+kitchen; but her master, being very fond of her company, used often to
+take the cage down, with the bird in it, and take it into his play-room
+or his hut, or hang it upon the bough of a tree before the parlour
+window, that Mag might enjoy the fresh air. Sometimes, too, Henry let
+the bird out, that she might enjoy herself a little, for as the
+feathers of one of her wings were cut close, she could not fly; and she
+was very tame, and never<!-- Page 204 --> having known liberty, she was as fond of her
+cage, when she was tired or hungry, as some old ladies are of their
+parlours.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us take Mag with us out of doors," said Henry; and the cage was
+taken down and carried out between the two children, whilst Mag kept
+chattering all the way, and was, if anything, more pert and brisk than
+spoiled magpies generally are. They first went to the hut, and set the
+cage on the bench, whilst Henry and Emily busied themselves in putting
+a few things to rights about the place, which had been set wrong by a
+hard shower which had happened the night before. There were a few
+fallen leaves which had blown into the hut from some laurels growing on
+the outside; and Henry said:</p>
+
+<p>"I do hate laurels; for they are always untidy, and scattering about
+their yellow leaves when all the trees about them are in their best
+order."<a name="tn_pg_240"></a><!-- TN: Single quote change to double--></p>
+
+<p>Whilst the children were going in and out after these leaves, to pick
+them up and throw them out of sight, Mag kept hopping from one perch to
+another, wriggling her tail, twisting her head to one side and another,
+and crying, "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry," in a voice more like
+scolding than anything else.</p>
+
+<p>"What now, mistress?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"She is not in the best possible temper," replied Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"She wants to be out," answered Henry; "she does not like to be shut
+up."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Emily, "it would be dangerous to let her out here, so far
+from the house, and amongst the trees."</p>
+
+<p>Henry was in a humour common not only to small but great boys on
+occasions. He chose, just then, to think himself wiser than his sister,
+and, without another word,<!-- Page 205 --> he opened the cage door, and out walked
+Mag, with the air of a person who had gained a point, and despised
+those who had given way to her.</p>
+
+<p>And first she strutted round the inside of the hut, crying, "Oh, pretty
+Mag!" with a vast deal of importance, and then she walked out at the
+entrance, trailing her tail after her, like a lady in a silk gown.</p>
+
+<p>"She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily; "and how shall we get
+her out of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never fear," returned Henry; "you know that she cannot fly."</p>
+
+<p>One would have thought that the bird knew what they said, for whilst
+they spoke, she laid her head on one side, as if turning an ear&mdash;stood
+still a minute, and then paraded onwards&mdash;I say paraded, for if she had
+been walking at a coronation she could not have taken more state upon
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us see which way she goes," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>And the two children walked after her; Emily bringing the light wicker
+cage with her.</p>
+
+<p>Mag knew as well that they were after her as if she had been what the
+country people call a Christian, meaning a human creature. And she
+walked on, not taking to the shrubs, which grew thick about the hut,
+but along a bit of grass-plot, at the farthest end of which was a row
+of laurels and other evergreens. These trees hid the back yard of the
+house from the garden and small portion of land near to it, which Mr.
+Fairchild had given up to flowering shrubs and ornamental trees.</p>
+
+<p>Behind these evergreens was a row of palings, and as Mag drew near to
+these laurels, Henry ran forward, crying:</p>
+
+<p>"She will get through the palings, if we don't mind, and into the
+yard."<!-- Page 206 --></p>
+
+<p>Mag let him come near to her, and then gave a long hop, standing still
+till he was only at arm's length from her. Then she gave a second hop,
+alighting under a branch of laurel; and when Henry rushed forward to
+catch her there, she made another spring, and was hidden among the
+leaves.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop! stop!" cried Henry, "stop there, Emily, where you are; and I
+will run round and drive her back; and you must be ready to catch her."
+And away he ran to the nearest wicket, and was on the other side of the
+laurels and the paling, in the fold-yard, not a minute afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Emily heard him making a noise on the opposite side of the shrubs, as
+if he thought Mag was between him and his sister, among the laurels;
+and he called also to her, bidding her to be ready when the bird
+appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Emily watched and watched, but no bird came out; and not a minute
+afterwards she heard Henry cry:</p>
+
+<p>"O there! there! I see her going across the yard towards the barn! Come
+round! leave the cage! come quickly, Emily!"</p>
+
+<p>She obeyed the call in an instant; down went the cage on the grass. She
+was at the wicket and in the fold-yard in a minute, and there she saw
+Mag pacing along the yard, in her coronation step, towards the barn,
+being, to all appearance, in no manner of hurry, and seeming to be
+quite unconscious of the near neighbourhood of her master and his
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush!" whispered Henry; "don't make a noise." And the two
+children trod softly and slowly towards the side of the yard where the
+bird was, as if they had been treading on eggs or groping through the
+dark and afraid of a post at every step. They thought that Maggy was
+not conscious of their approach; though Emily did not quite<!-- Page 207 --> like the
+cunning way in which the bird laid her head on every side, as if the
+better to hear the sound.</p>
+
+<p>Once again Henry was at arm's length from her, and had even extended
+himself as far forward as he could, and stretched out his hand to catch
+her, when his foot slipped, and down he came at full length in the
+dust. At the same instant Maggy made a hop, and turned to look back at
+Henry from the very lowest edge of the thatch of the barn, or rather of
+a place where the roof of the barn was extended downwards over a low
+wood-house.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was up in a minute, not heeding the thick brown powder with which
+his face and hands and pinafore were covered; and Emily had scarcely
+come up to the place where he had fallen, before he was endeavouring to
+catch at the bird on the low ledge to which she had hopped.</p>
+
+<p>But Maggy had no mind to be thus caught; she had gotten her liberty,
+and she was disposed to keep it a little longer; and when she saw the
+hand near her, she made another hop, and appeared higher up on the
+slanting thatch.</p>
+
+<p>After some little talking over the matter, Henry proposed getting up
+the thatch; and how he managed to persuade Emily to do the same, or
+whether she did not want much persuasion, is not known; but this is
+very certain, that they both soon climbed upon this thatch, having
+found a ladder in the yard, which John used in some of his work, and
+having set it against the wood-house, and from the top of the
+wood-house made their way to the roof of the barn.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we shall have her!" cried Henry, as he made his way on his hands
+and knees along the sloping thatch; and again his hand was stretched
+out to seize the bird, when she made another upward hop, and was as far
+off as she<!-- Page 208 --> had been when she sat on the edge of the thatch and he lay
+in the dust.</p>
+
+<p>"What a tiresome creature!" cried Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure she does it on purpose," said Emily, "only to vex us; and
+there she sits looking down upon us, and crying, 'Oh, pretty Mag!' I
+knew, when she was in the hut, that she was in a wicked humour."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us sit down here a little," said Henry, "and seem not to be
+thinking about her. Let us seem to be looking another way; perhaps she
+will then come near to us of her own accord."</p>
+
+<p>"We will try," replied Emily. And the children seated themselves
+quietly on the thatch; and if they had not been uneasy about the
+magpie, would never have been better pleased with their seats.</p>
+
+<p>But it might seem that Mag did not choose to be thus passed over, and
+not to have her friends busy and troubled about her; for as soon as
+Emily and Henry had planned not to notice her, and to seem to look
+another way, she began to cry in her usual croaking voice, "How do you
+do, sir? Good morning, sir! Oh, pretty Mag! Mag's hungry!"</p>
+
+<p>"What a tiresome bird it is," said Henry, impatiently. And Emily began
+to coax and invite her to come near, holding out her hand as if she had
+something in it.</p>
+
+<p>Mag was not a bit behind in returning Emily's empty compliments, for
+she hopped towards her, and very nearly within reach of her hand, still
+crying, "Good morning! Oh, pretty Mag!"</p>
+
+<p>Emily now thought she had her, and was putting out her arm to catch her
+when the bird turned swiftly round, and hopping up the thatch, took her
+station on the very point of the roof.</p>
+
+<p>Henry lost no time, but, turning on his hands and knees,<!-- Page 209 --> crept up the
+slope of the roof, and was followed by his sister, who was quite as
+active as himself. They were not long in reaching the place where Mag
+was perched; but, before they could catch hold of her, she had walked
+down very leisurely on the other side, and hopped off into the field.
+Henry was after her, half sliding down the thatch, but Emily more
+wisely chose to go back by the wood-house as she had come, and in a
+very few minutes afterwards they were in the field. Henry had never
+lost sight of his bird since he had found her in the fold-yard; but he
+was none the nearer to catching her.</p>
+
+<p>She waited at a respectful distance till Emily came up; and then,
+between walking and hopping, made her way across the field, and perched
+herself on the upper bar of a gate.</p>
+
+<p>The children were now in serious trouble, because they were not
+suffered, when alone, to go beyond the bounds of the next field.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the second field was the lane, into which they had followed the
+pig on that unfortunate day in which they had been left under the care
+of John; and if the magpie should go over into this lane, what could
+they do? They did wish to obey their parents this day.</p>
+
+<p>In order, however, to prevent this misfortune, Henry did the very worst
+thing he possibly could; he began to run and cry, "Mag! Mag!" with a
+raised voice, whilst the bird, as if resolved to torment him, hopped
+forward across the other field, <a name="page_209_text"></a>perched herself on the stile, and, as
+he drew near, flew right down from thence into the lane.</p>
+
+<p>When Emily came up, there was poor Henry sitting across the stile in
+the greatest possible trouble, being more than half tempted to break
+bounds, and yet feeling that he ought not to do it. And there was Mag,
+walking up and down, pecking and picking, and wagging her tail; and
+now<!-- Page 210 --> and then looking with one cunning eye towards her little master,
+as much as to say, "Why don't you come after me? Here I am."</p>
+
+<p>It is often by very small things that the strength of our resolutions
+to be good is tested.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was hardly tried, yet strength was given him to resist the
+temptation; and by Emily's persuasion he was induced to wait a little
+before he ventured to go down into the lane. And Mag seemed as well
+content to wait, or rather more so than he was.</p>
+
+<p>The children were in hopes that some one might come by who would help
+them in their distress. And they had not waited a minute before they
+could see two children just coming in sight, at the very farthest point
+where the lane was visible from the stile.</p>
+
+<p>These children were&mdash;a very ragged boy, without shoes, stockings, or
+hat, about nine or ten years of age, and a little girl, worse clothed,
+if possible, than himself, for her petticoat was all in fringes,
+showing her little legs above the ankle; they both looked miserably
+thin. Mag waited saucily till these had come nearly opposite the stile,
+and then only stepped aside; whilst Henry, calling to the boy, told him
+his trouble, pointing out the bird to him, and asking his help.</p>
+
+<p>The boy looked towards the bird, and then, turning cheerfully to Henry,
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Never fear, master, but I'll catch her for you;" and, dropping the
+hand of the little girl, he pulled off his ragged jacket, and crept
+towards Maggy.</p>
+
+<p>Cunning as the creature was, she did not understand that she had a
+deeper hand to deal with than that of her young master. She therefore
+let the boy come as near to her as she had let Henry do many times
+during the chase, and in this way she gave him the opportunity he was
+seek<!-- Page 211 -->ing of throwing his jacket over her, and seizing her as she lay
+under it.</p>
+
+<p>"He has her!" cried Emily and Henry at once, and the ragged little girl
+set up quite a shriek of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I has her," added the boy; "but she pulls desperate hard, and
+would bite me, if she could, through the cloth. Suppose I wraps her in
+it, and carries her home for you, for we must not let her loose again.
+Hark! how she skirls, master and miss!"</p>
+
+<p>Henry and Emily approved of this scheme; the boy kept Maggy in the
+folds of the old jacket, and Emily helped the little girl to get over
+the stile; and the four children walked quickly towards the house. When
+they had crossed the two fields, Emily ran forward to fetch the cage,
+and the boy managed to get Mag into it without getting his fingers bit;
+after which Henry and Emily had leisure to ask the boy who he was, for
+they had never seen him before.</p>
+
+<p>He told them that his name was Edward, and that his little sister was
+called Jane, and that they had no father or mother, but lived with
+their grandmother in a cottage on the common, just by Sir Charles
+Noble's park; and that their grandmother was very bad, and could not
+work, but lay sick in bed; and that they were all half-starved, and he
+was come out to beg&mdash;"Miss and Master," added the boy, "for we could
+not starve, nor see granny dying of hunger."</p>
+
+<p>What a sad thing it is that stories of this kind are often told to
+deceive people, and get money out of them on false pretences! But Emily
+and Henry saw how thin and ragged these poor children were, and Emily
+thought of a plan of giving them a supper without taking what they gave
+from her father. So she proposed her scheme to Henry, and he said:</p>
+
+<p>"That will just do; I did not think of it."<!-- Page 212 --></p>
+
+<p>Emily then said to the children:</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down here; we will take naughty Mag into the house, and come back
+to you;" and she and Henry were off in a minute. They ran in to Betty,
+and asked her what she had for their supper. Betty was shelling peas in
+the kitchen, and she told them that she was going to cook them for her
+master and mistress; and she said:</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose, Miss Emily, you and your brother will sup with your parents
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"But, if you please, we would rather have our supper now," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"That we would," cried Henry; "so please, Betty, do give us something
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must not have a second supper, Master Henry," said Betty, "if
+I give you something to eat now."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Betty," replied both children at once; "but we would like
+it now, instead of waiting later for papa and mamma."</p>
+
+<p>So Betty gave each a currant turnover or puff, and a slice of bread and
+some milk.</p>
+
+<p>"May we take our supper out of doors, Betty?" said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please," replied Betty; and she put the turnovers, as she
+called the puffs, into a little basket, with two large slices of bread
+and two cans of milk, and put the basket into Emily's hands.</p>
+
+<p>"You have made beautiful ears and eyes to the turnovers, Betty," said
+Henry; "I always call them pigs when they are made in that way."</p>
+
+<p>"And they taste much better, don't they, Master Henry?" asked Betty.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure they do," answered Henry, and away he walked after his
+sister.<!-- Page 213 --><!-- Page 214 --><!-- Page 215 --></p>
+
+<p>So <a name="page_215a_text"></a>Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little children; and they
+were very much pleased with them, because, when they had eaten part of
+the bread and drunk the milk, they asked leave to take what was left
+home to their grandmother.</p>
+
+<a name="image_213"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/213.png" border="0"
+ width="476" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little
+children.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_215a_text">Page 215</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Emily fetched them a piece of paper to wrap the puffs in, and then she
+and Henry watched them back into the lane, and afterwards walked
+quietly home, to be ready when their parents and Lucy should come back.</p>
+
+<a name="image_215"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>The magpie on the stile.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_209_text">Page 209</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/215.png" border="0" width="412" height="378" ALT=""></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 216 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Happy_Evening" id="The_Happy_Evening"></a>The Happy Evening</h3>
+
+<a name="image_216"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/216.png" border="0" width="579" height="325" ALT="Preparing the peas for supper"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Henry</span> had just finished washing his hands and combing his hair, and
+Emily had only that minute changed her pinafore, when the distant sound
+of the carriage was heard.</p>
+
+<p>Betty was preparing the peas for supper, and John laid the cloth, when
+Henry and Emily ran out upon the lawn.</p>
+
+<p>What a happy moment was that when the carriage stopped at the gate, and
+John opened the door and let down the step, and Lucy jumped out and ran
+to meet Emily and Henry. One would have thought that the children had
+been parted a year instead of a day.</p>
+
+<p>The chaise went on with Mrs. Goodriche, and all the family came into
+the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>"How nice the peas smell!" said Mr. Fairchild; "and I really want my
+supper."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I, papa," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"And so do I," whispered Henry to Emily.<!-- Page 217 --></p>
+
+<p>"But you must not say so," returned Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Henry firmly; "I know <i>that</i>; we agreed about <i>that</i>
+before."</p>
+
+<p>John came in with a very large basket, well packed, out of the chaise;
+Lucy was running to begin to unpack it, when Mr. Fairchild said:</p>
+
+<p>"Let us have our supper first, dear child, and the basket shall be our
+dessert."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, papa," answered Lucy, "so we will;" and her young heart was
+filled with joy on account of the things that were in it, though she
+did not know of one thing for herself.</p>
+
+<p>John came in with a nice smoking leg of lamb; and he then went out and
+brought some peas and young potatoes, to which he added a hot current
+and raspberry pie. Everybody sat down; Mr. Fairchild said grace, and
+began to help those at the table from the lamb, whilst Mrs. Fairchild
+served the peas. Lucy being helped, Mr. Fairchild said to Emily:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you very hungry, my dear? Shall I give you much or little?"</p>
+
+<p>"None, thank you, papa," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"A few peas, my dear, then?" said her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"None, thank you, mamma," replied Emily.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild offered potatoes or tart.</p>
+
+<p>"None, thank you, mamma," was Emily's answer to every offer.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild seemed rather surprised, but was still more so when
+Henry, who was always provided with a good appetite, gave exactly the
+same answers which Emily had done. She supposed, however, that the
+children had supped already, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"What did Betty give you, my dears?"</p>
+
+<p>Emily told her mother, but coloured very much while<!-- Page 218 --> speaking, and
+there was something their parents thought rather odd in both their
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said Mr. Fairchild; "there is some little mystery here;
+let us hear it. What has happened? I trust that you have not been
+playing in the sun and made yourselves unwell."</p>
+
+<p>"No, papa," replied Henry, "we are not"&mdash;he was going to say hungry,
+but that would not have been true. "We are not&mdash;we do not&mdash;we do not
+wish for any supper; do we, Emily?"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" said Mr. Fairchild, with a smile, and yet at the same time a
+little alarmed&mdash;"what! did you and Emily talk the affair over before,
+and agree together that you would not have any supper with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"We did, papa," replied Henry bravely, "and when the things are taken
+away we will tell you all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I do beg," said Mr. Fairchild, "that you will tell us all about it,
+even before we begin to eat; for there is your mamma looking anxious;
+Emily looking ready to cry, and Lucy, too, with her. What is this great
+secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you, papa," said Henry, getting up, and walking round to
+his father's knee. "I opened the door, papa," he said; "it was not
+Emily's fault, she told me not to do it&mdash;and then she came out&mdash;and she
+went to the top of the barn, and we went after her&mdash;and she chattered
+to us&mdash;and then she went, and then we came after her&mdash;and then she sat
+on the gate, and went on and came to the stile, talking all the way,
+almost as if she had been making game of us. Did she not, Emily?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really, my dear boy," replied Mr. Fairchild, forcing himself to smile,
+"you must try to make your story plainer, or we shall be more in the
+dark at the end of it than we were at the beginning. All I now
+understand is, that you and Emily climbed over the roof of the barn
+after some<!-- Page 219 -->body. Well, and I hope you got no fall in this strange
+exploit?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are not angry, papa?" said Lucy. "Henry has often been on the
+thatch of the barn and never got hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say I was angry, my dear," replied Mr. Fairchild. "I might
+say that it was neither safe nor prudent for little girls to scramble
+up such places, and I might say, do not try these things again; but if
+no harm was intended, why was I to be angry? But I must hear a more
+straightforward story than Henry has told me; he has not given me the
+name of the person who went chattering before him and Emily; was it a
+fairy, a little spiteful fairy, Emily? Did you let her out of a box, as
+the princess did in the fairytale? And what has all this to do with
+your refusing your suppers? Come, Emily, let us hear your account of
+this affair."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Emily had been sadly put out by all that had passed between Henry
+and her father; and she, therefore, looked very red when she began her
+story. But she got courage as she went on, and told it all, just as it
+is related in the last chapter; only she passed slightly over the
+wilfulness which her brother had shown in opening the cage door. She
+finished by saying, that as they had given away their suppers, they had
+agreed together not to eat another; "and we settled not to tell our
+reasons till the things were taken away."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, papa," added Henry, "we did."</p>
+
+<p>"And this is all, my Emily?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "I will own that I
+was fearful there was something much amiss;" and she put out her hand
+to her little girl and boy, and having kissed them, she added, "Now, my
+children, sit down and eat."</p>
+
+<p>"And we will all sup together," cried Lucy, with her brightest,
+happiest smile, "and afterwards open the basket."<!-- Page 220 --></p>
+
+<p>"And I will do more than give each of you a slice of lamb," said Mr.
+Fairchild. "I am going to-morrow to pay a visit to Mr. Darwell; I have
+put this visit off too long; and I will call on Mr. Burke, Sir Charles
+Noble's steward, and inquire about these poor people. What is the name
+of the old woman, my dears?"</p>
+
+<p>"Edward, papa," cried Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Edward," said Emily, "is the boy's name, not the old woman's&mdash;we did
+not ask her name."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that was likely," answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling. "Well,
+Henry, I will tell you what must be done&mdash;you must be ready at six
+o'clock to-morrow morning, and we will walk, whilst it is cool, to Mr.
+Burke's, and get our breakfast there, and you must help us to find
+these poor people."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa!" said Henry: he could not say another word for joy.</p>
+
+<p>After supper, and when everything but the candles was cleared from the
+table, the basket was set on it, and Mrs. Fairchild began to unpack it.
+First she took out a number of parcels of rice, and sugar, and pepper,
+and mustard, and such things as children do not care to see. These were
+put aside, and then came a smooth long parcel, which she opened; it
+contained a piece of very nice muslin to make Lucy and Emily best
+frocks.</p>
+
+<p>There was no harm in the little girls being very pleased at the sight
+of this; they had been taught to be thankful for every good and useful
+thing provided for them. These, too, were put aside; and next came a
+larger parcel, tied up in a paper with care, and the name of "Lucy,
+from Mrs. Goodriche," written upon it. It was handed to Lucy; she did
+not expect it, and her hands quite shook while she untied the string.
+It contained a beautiful doll, the size of Emily's famous doll; and I
+could not say which of the two little<!-- Page 221 --> sisters was most delighted. The
+two largest parcels were at the bottom of the basket, and came last;
+one was directed with a pencil by Lucy to Emily, and the other to
+Henry; and when these were opened it was found out that Lucy had spent
+all her own money to make these parcels richer. Each contained a
+beautiful book with many pictures; and in Emily's parcel were a pair of
+scissors for doll's work, and needles and cotton, and lots of bright
+penny ribbon, and a bundle of ends of bright chintz for dolls' frocks.
+They were the very things that would please Emily most, and, as she
+said, would help so nicely to dress Lucy's doll.</p>
+
+<p>Henry, besides his book, had a large rough knife, a ball of string, an
+awl, a little nail-passer, a paper of tacks, and some other little
+things which happened to be just what he wanted most of all things in
+the world, for he was always making things in wood.</p>
+
+<p>Well, that was a happy evening indeed; it had been a happy day, only
+Mag had given some trouble; but, as Emily said, "Even Mag's mischief
+had turned out for some good, because the poor little children had got
+a supper by it."</p>
+
+<p>The next day was almost, if not quite, as pleasant as the day before.
+Henry was out with his father; and Lucy and Emily had all the day given
+to them for dressing the new doll and settling her name; so they called
+her Amelia, after Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 222 -->
+<h3><a name="Breakfast_at_Mr_Burkes" id="Breakfast_at_Mr_Burkes"></a>Breakfast at Mr. Burke's</h3>
+
+<a name="image_222"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/222.png" border="0" width="587" height="335" ALT="A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering"></div>
+
+<p><span class="first words">We</span> will leave Lucy and Emily making their doll's clothes, and go with
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry.</p>
+
+<p>They were off by six o'clock in the morning for the Park. Sir Charles
+Noble's place was about two miles from Mr. Fairchild's house, but Mr.
+Burke, the steward, lived as much as half a mile nearer, on Mr.
+Fairchild's side, so that Henry had not two miles to walk, for his
+father was to leave him at Mr. Burke's, whilst he went on to pay his
+visit to Mr. Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>The first part of their walk lay along a lane, deeply shaded on one
+side by a very deep dark wood&mdash;it was Blackwood.</p>
+
+<p>Henry saw the chimneys of the old house just rising above the trees;
+they were built of brick, and looked as if several of them had been
+twisted round each other, as the threads of thick twine are twisted;
+they looked quite black, and parts of them had fallen.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild and Henry next crossed the corner of a common, where they
+saw several huts built of clay, with<!-- Page 223 --> one brick chimney each, and very
+ragged thatch; and going a little farther, they saw Mr. Burke's house
+before them. It was a large farmhouse, with a square court before it,
+and behind it a quantity of buildings and many ricks. Mr. Burke was the
+steward of the estate, and he was also a farmer, and he was reckoned to
+be a rich man; but he and his wife were very plain sort of people, and
+though they had got up in the world, they carried with them all their
+old-fashioned ways.</p>
+
+<p>They had eight children; the eldest was in his sixteenth year, the
+youngest between two and three. There were four boys and four girls,
+and they had come in turns; first a boy, and then a girl, and so on.
+The three elder boys and the three elder girls went to
+boarding-schools; but it was holiday time, and they were all at home.</p>
+
+<p>There was no sign about the old people themselves of being rich,
+excepting that they had both grown very stout; but they were hearty and
+cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke spied Mr. Fairchild before he got to the house, and called to
+welcome him over a hedge, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"You have done right to take the cool of the morning; and you and the
+little gentleman there, I dare say, are ready for your breakfasts. Go
+on, Mr. Fairchild, and I will be with you before you get to the house."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild and Henry crossed the fold-yard, and coming into the
+yard, which was surrounded by a low wall, with a paling at the top of
+it, they saw Mrs. Burke standing on the kitchen steps, and feeding an
+immense quantity of poultry of all sorts and kinds. She called to
+welcome her visitors; but though she spoke in a high key, it was
+impossible to hear a word she said for the noise made by the geese,
+ducks, hens, turkeys, and guinea-fowl&mdash;all crowding forward for their
+food. Besides which, there was a huge dog, chained to a kennel, which
+set up a<!-- Page 224 --> tremendous barking; and, before he could be stopped, was
+joined by other dogs of divers sorts and sizes, which came running into
+the yard, setting up their throats all in different keys. They did not,
+however, attempt to do more than bark and yelp at Henry and his father.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, come in, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Burke, when they could get
+near to her through the crowd of living things; "come in, the tea is
+brewing; and you must be very thirsty." And she took up an end of her
+white apron and wiped her brow, remarking that it was wonderful fine
+weather for the corn.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild and Henry followed Mrs. Burke through an immense kitchen
+into a parlour beyond, which was nothing in size compared to the
+kitchen; and there was a long table set out for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>The table was covered with good things; a large pasty, which had been
+cut; a ham, from which many a good slice had already been taken; a pot
+of jam, another of honey; brown and white loaves; cream and butter and
+fruit; and the tea, too, was brewing, and smelt deliciously.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke followed them in almost immediately, and shook Mr. Fairchild
+by the hand; complimenting Henry by laying his large rough hand on his
+head, and saying:</p>
+
+<p>"You are ready for your breakfast, I doubt not, little master;" adding,
+"Come, mistress, tap your barrel. But where are the youngsters?" He had
+hardly spoken, when a tall girl, very smartly dressed, though with her
+hair in papers, looked in at the door, and ran off again when she saw
+Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>Her father called after her:</p>
+
+<p>"Judy, I say, why don't you come in?" But Miss Judy was gone to take
+the papers out of her hair.</p>
+
+<p>The next who appeared was little Miss Jane, the mother's pet, because
+she was the youngest. She came<!-- Page 225 --> squalling in to tell her mother that
+Dick had scratched her, though she could not show the scratch; and
+there was no peace until she was set on a high chair by her mother, and
+supplied with a piece of sugared bread-and-butter.</p>
+
+<p>A great sturdy boy in petticoats, of about four years old, followed
+little Miss Jane, roaring and blubbering because Jane had pinched him
+in return for the scratch; but Mrs. Burke managed to settle him also
+with a piece of ham, which he ate without bread&mdash;fat and all. Dicky was
+presently followed into the room by the three elder boys, James,
+William, and Tom. Being admonished by their father, they gave Mr.
+Fairchild something between a bow and a nod. James's compliment might
+have been called a bow; William's was half one and half the other; and
+Tom's was nothing more than a nod. These boys were soon seated, and
+began to fill their plates from every dish near to them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Burke asked James if he knew where his sisters were; and Tom
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Why, at the glass to be sure, taking the papers out of their hair."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that you say, Tom?" was heard at that instant from someone
+coming into the parlour. It was Miss Judy, and she was followed by Miss
+Mary and Miss Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>These three paid their compliments to Mr. Fairchild somewhat more
+properly than their brothers had done; and in a very few minutes all
+the family were seated, and all the young ones engaged with their
+breakfasts.</p>
+
+<p>It was Mr. Fairchild's custom always, when he had business to do, to
+take the first opportunity of forwarding it: so he did not lose this
+opportunity, but told his reasons for begging a breakfast that morning
+from Mrs. Burke.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke entered kindly into what his neighbour said,<!-- Page 226 --> and had no
+difficulty, though the surname was not known, in finding out who the
+grandmother of Edward and Jane was.</p>
+
+<p>He told Mr. Fairchild that she bore a good character&mdash;had suffered many
+afflictions&mdash;and, if she were ill, must be in great need. It was then
+settled that as he was going in his little gig that morning to the
+park, Mr. Fairchild should go with him; that they should go round over
+the common to see the old woman, who did not live very near to the
+farm, and that Henry should be left under Mrs. Burke's care, as the gig
+would only carry two persons.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Burke said the gig would only hold two, James looked up from
+his plate, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I only wish that it would break down the very first time you and
+mother get into it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Jem, for your good wishes," said Mr. Burke.</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, Jem!" cried Miss Judy.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean that I wish you and mother to be hurt," answered the
+youth; "but the gig is not fit for such a one as you to go in. I
+declare I am ashamed of it every time you come in sight of our
+playground in it; the boys have so much to say about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Jem!" said Miss Judy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Jem!" repeated the youth; "it is always 'Well, well!' or
+'Oh fie, Jem!' but you know, Judy, that you told me that your governess
+herself said that father ought to have a new carriage."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't deny that, Jem," said Judy; "Miss Killigrew knows that father
+could afford a genteel carriage, and she thinks that he ought to get
+one for the respectability of the family."</p>
+
+<p>"Who cares what Miss Killigrew thinks?" asked Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," replied Judy; "Miss Killigrew is a very genteel,<!-- Page 227 --> elegant
+woman, and knows what's proper; and, as she says, has the good of the
+family at heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" replied James; "the good of the family! you mean her own
+good, and her own respectability. She would like to see a fine carriage
+at her door, to make her look genteel; how can you be bamboozled with
+such stuff, Judy?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke seemed to sit uneasily whilst his children were going on in
+this way. He was thinking how all this would appear before Mr.
+Fairchild&mdash;that is, he was listening for the moment with Mr.
+Fairchild's ears.</p>
+
+<p>When we keep low company we are apt to listen with their ears; and when
+we get into good company we do the same: we think how this will sound,
+and that will sound to them, and we are shocked for them, at things
+which at another time we should not heed; this is one way in which we
+are hurt by bad company, and improved by good.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke had never thought his children so ill-bred as when he heard
+them, that morning, with Mr. Fairchild's ears; and as he was afraid of
+making things worse by checking them, he invited him to walk out with
+him, after he saw that he had done his breakfast, to look at a famous
+field of corn near the house.</p>
+
+<p>When this had been visited the gig was ready, and they set out, leaving
+Henry at the farm; and it was very good for Henry to be left, for he
+had an opportunity of seeing more that morning than he had ever yet
+seen of the sad effects of young people being left to take their own
+way.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 228 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Unruly_Family" id="The_Unruly_Family"></a>The Unruly Family</h3>
+
+<a name="image_228"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/228.png" border="0" width="574" height="380" ALT="They had a game at marbles"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">After</span> Mr. Fairchild was gone out with Mr. Burke, the young people, who
+still sat round the table, all began to speak and make a noise at once.
+The two youngest were crying for sugar, or ham, or more butter. Tom was
+screaming every moment, "I am going to the river a-fishing&mdash;who comes
+with me?" looking at the same time daringly at his mother, and
+expecting her to say, "No, Tom; you know <i>that</i> is forbidden;" for the
+river was very dangerous for anglers, and Mr. Burke had given his
+orders that his boys should never go down to it unless he was with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>James and Judy were squabbling sharply and loudly about Miss Killigrew
+and her gentility; William, in a quieter way, and with a quiet face,
+was, from time to time, giving his sister Mary's hair a violent pull,
+causing her to scream and look about her for her tormenter each time;
+and Elizabeth was balancing a spoon on the edge of her cup, and letting
+it fall with a clatter every moment.<!-- Page 229 --> Children never mind
+noise&mdash;indeed, they rather like it; and, if the truth must be told,
+Henry was beginning to think that it would not be unpleasant if his
+father would let him and his sisters have their own ways, as these
+children of Mr. Burke seemed to have, at least on holidays and after
+lesson hours.</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Jane's mouth was well filled with jam, and Dick's with fat
+meat, Tom's voice was heard above the rest; he was still crying, "I am
+going a-fishing; who will come with me?" his large eyes being fixed on
+his mother, as if to provoke her to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going to do any such thing, Tom," she at length said; "I
+shall not allow it."</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked as if he would have said, "How can you help it, mother?" but
+he had not time to say it, had he wished; for Miss Judy, who had a
+great notion of managing her brothers, took him up, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder at you, Tom. How often have you been told that you are not to
+go down to fish in the river?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, miss, who made you my governess? If it's only to vex you, I will
+go to the river&mdash;if I don't fish I will bathe. Will that please you
+better?"</p>
+
+<p>Henry Fairchild could not make out exactly what was said next, because
+three or four people spoke at once in answer to Tom's last words, and
+as all of them spoke as loud as they could in order to be heard, as
+always happens in these cases, no two words could be made out clearly.
+But Henry perceived that Tom gave word for word to his sisters, and
+was, as he would himself have said, "quite even with them." After a
+little while, James, at the whisper of his mother, cried, "Nonsense,
+nonsense! no more of this;" and taking Tom by the arm, lugged him out
+of the room by main force; whilst the youngster struggled and tugged
+and caught at everything as he was<!-- Page 230 --> forced along, <a name="page_230a_text"></a>the noise continuing
+till the two brothers were fairly out of the house.</p>
+
+
+<a name="image_231"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/231.png" border="0"
+ width="478" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>The noise continued till the two brothers were fairly
+out of the house.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_230a_text">Page 230</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Mrs. Burke then turned to Henry; and thinking, perhaps, that some
+excuse for her boy's behaviour was necessary, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"It is all play, Master Fairchild. Tom is a good boy, but he loves a
+little harmless mischief; he has no more notion of going down to the
+river than I have."</p>
+
+<p>"La, mother," said Miss Judy, "that is what you always say, though you
+know the contrary; Tom is the very rudest boy in the whole country, and
+known to be so."</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me, Master Fairchild," said William, in a low voice to
+Henry, "come with me. Now Judy is got on her hobby-horse, she will take
+a long ride."</p>
+
+<p>"What is my hobby-horse, Master William?" said Judy sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Abusing your brothers, Miss Judy," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>She set up her lip and turned away, as if she did not think it worth
+while to answer him, for he was younger than herself; but the next
+sister took up the battle, and said something so sharp and tart, that
+even William, the quietest of the family, gave her a very rude and
+cutting answer. Henry did not understand what he said, but he was not
+sorry when Mrs. Burke told him that he had better go out with William
+and see what was to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>William led Henry right through the kitchen and court into the
+fold-yard: it was a very large yard, surrounded on three sides by
+buildings, stables, and store-houses, and cattle-sheds and stalls. In
+the midst of it was a quantity of manure, all wet and sloppy, and upon
+the very top of this heap stood that charming boy, Master Tom, with his
+shoes and stockings all covered with mire.</p>
+
+<p>On one side of the yard stood James, talking to a boy in a labourer's
+frock. These last were very busy with their<!-- Page 231 --><!-- Page 232 --><!-- Page 233 --> own talk, and paid no
+heed to Tom, who kept calling to them.</p>
+
+<p>"You said," he cried, "that I could not get here&mdash;and here I am, do you
+see, safe and sound?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I do not care how long you stay there," at length answered the
+eldest brother; "we should be free from one plague for the time at
+least."</p>
+
+<p>"That time, then, shall not be long," answered Tom, "for I am coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop him! stop him!" cried James. "Here, Will&mdash;and you, Hodge,"
+speaking to the young carter, "have at him, he shan't come out so soon
+as he wishes;" and giving a whoop and a shout, the three boys, James,
+William, and Hodge, set to to drive Tom back again whenever he
+attempted to get out of the heap of mire upon the dry ground.</p>
+
+<p>There were three against one, and Tom had the disadvantage of very
+slippery footing, so that he was constantly driven back at every
+attempt, and so very roughly too, that he was thrown down more than
+once; but he fell on soft ground, and got no harm beyond being covered
+with mire from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>The whole yard rang with the shouts and screams of the boys; and this
+might have lasted much longer if an old labouring servant had not come
+into the yard, and insisted that there was enough of it, driving Hodge
+away, and crying shame on his young masters. When Tom was let loose, he
+walked away into the house, as Henry supposed, to get himself washed;
+and James and William, being very hot, called Henry to go with them
+across the field into the barn, in one corner of which they had a
+litter of puppies. They were a long time in this barn, for after they
+had looked at the puppies they had a game at marbles, and Henry was
+much amused.<!-- Page 234 --></p>
+
+<p>William Burke was generally the quietest of the family, and almost all
+strangers liked him best; but he had his particular tempers, and as
+those tempers were never kept under by his parents, when they broke out
+they were very bad. James did something in the game which he did not
+think fair, so he got up from the ground where they were sitting or
+kneeling to play, kicked the marbles from him, told his brother that he
+was cheating, in so many plain words, and was walking quietly away,
+when James followed him, and seized his arm to pull him back.</p>
+
+<p>William resisted, and then the brothers began to wrestle; and from
+wrestling half playfully, they went on to wrestle in earnest. One gave
+the other a chance blow, and the other returned an intended one, and
+then they fought in good earnest, and did not stop till William had got
+a bloody nose; and perhaps they might not have stopped then, if Henry
+Fairchild had not begun to cry, running in between them, and begging
+them not to hurt each other any more.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!" cried James, as he drew back from William, "don't you
+know that we were only in play? Did you never see two boys playing
+before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in that way," replied Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"That is because you have no brother," answered James. "It is a sad
+thing for a boy not to have a brother."</p>
+
+<p>They all then left the barn, and William went to wash his nose at the
+pump.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst he was doing this, James turned over an empty trough which lay
+in the shade of one of the buildings in the fold-yard, and he and Henry
+sat down upon it; William soon came down to them. He had washed away
+the blood, and he looked so sulky, that anyone might have seen that he
+would have opened out the quarrel again with James<!-- Page 235 --> had not Henry
+Fairchild been present; for, though he did not care for the little boy,
+yet he did not wish that he should give him a bad name to his father.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Fairchild was learning the best lesson he had ever had in his
+life amongst the unruly children of Mr. Burke; but this lesson was not
+to be learned only by his ears and eyes; it would not have been enough
+for him to have seen Tom soused in the mire, or William with his bloody
+nose; his very bones were to suffer in the acquirement of it, and he
+was to get such a fright as he had never known before.</p>
+
+<p>But before the second part of his adventures that morning is related,
+it will be as well to say, in this place, that Mr. Fairchild was taken
+first by Mr. Burke to the poor widow's cottage, where he found her
+almost crippled with rheumatism. She had parted with much of her
+furniture and clothes to feed the poor children, but was gentle and did
+not complain.</p>
+
+<p>From the cottage Mr. Burke drove Mr. Fairchild to the park, and there
+Mr. Fairchild had an opportunity of speaking of the poor grandmother
+and the little children to Mr. and Mrs. Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Darwell said that if the cottage required repair, Mr. Burke must
+look after it, and then speak to him, as the affair was not his, as he
+was only Sir Charles Noble's tenant.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Darwell seemed to Mr. Fairchild to be a very fine lady, and one
+who did not trouble herself about the concerns of the poor; but there
+was one in the room who heard every word which Mr. Fairchild said, and
+heard it attentively.</p>
+
+<p>This was little Miss Darwell. She was seated on a sofa, with a piece of
+delicate work in her hand; she was dressed in the most costly manner,
+and she looked as fair and almost as quiet as a waxen doll.<!-- Page 236 --></p>
+
+<p>Who can guess what was going on in her mind whilst she was listening to
+the history of the poor grandmother and her little ones?</p>
+
+<p>Miss Darwell, in one way, was as much indulged as Mr. Burke's children,
+but of course she was not allowed to be rude and vulgar; therefore, if
+her manners were better than those of the little Burkes, it was only
+what might be expected; but, happily for her, she had been provided
+with a truly pious and otherwise a very excellent governess, a widow
+lady, of the name of Colvin; but Mrs. Colvin seldom appeared in the
+drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Darwell was proud of his little girl; he thought her very pretty
+and very elegant, and he wanted to show her off before Mr. Fairchild,
+who he knew had some little girls of his own; so before Mr. Fairchild
+took leave, he called her to him, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Ellen, my dear, speak to this gentleman, and tell him that you should
+be glad to see his daughters, the Misses Fairchild; they are about your
+age, and, as I am told, are such ladies as would please you to be
+acquainted with."</p>
+
+<p>The little lady rose immediately, and came forward; she gave her hand
+to Mr. Fairchild, and turning to her father:</p>
+
+<p>"May I," she said, "ask the Misses Fairchild to come to my feast upon
+my birthday?"</p>
+
+<p>"You may, my love," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will write a note," she said; and Mr. Fairchild saw that the
+pretty waxen doll could sparkle and blush, and look as happy as his own
+children often did.</p>
+
+<p>She ran out of the room, and a minute afterwards came back with a neat
+little packet in her hand. There was more in it than a note, but she
+asked Mr. Fairchild to put it into his pocket, and not look at it.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild smiled and thanked her, and at that very<!-- Page 237 --> moment other
+morning visitors were brought in, and took up the attention of Mr. and
+Mrs. Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild was rising, when the little girl, bending forward to him,
+said in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"I heard what you said, sir, about those poor little children, and I
+will try to help them."</p>
+
+<p>How pleasant was it to Mr. Fairchild to hear those words from that fair
+little lady! And he came away quite delighted with her, and pleased
+with Mr. Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>He found Mr. Burke in his gig at the gates, with the horse's head
+turned towards home.</p>
+
+<p>As they were driving back, Mr. Fairchild spoke of Miss Darwell, and
+said how very much he had been pleased with her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke said that "she was a wonder of a child, considering how she
+was indulged, and that she seemed to have no greater pleasure than in
+doing good to the poor, especially to the children." They then talked
+of the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burke said he would, on his own responsibility, have the cottage
+put to rights. "It should have been done before," he added. "And I will
+see that she receives some help from the parish for the children; she
+has had a little for herself all along. And my wife shall send her some
+soup, and, may be, I could find something for Edward to do, if it be
+but to frighten away the birds from the crops; so let that matter
+trouble you no more, Mr. Fairchild."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 238 -->
+<h3><a name="Story_of_Henrys_Adventure" id="Story_of_Henrys_Adventure"></a>Story of Henry's Adventure</h3>
+
+<a name="image_238"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/238.png" border="0" width="581" height="355" ALT="Kind Mrs. Burke gave him a piece of bread and honey"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Henry Fairchild</span> sat with William and James Burke for some time under
+the shade of the building, and had the pleasure of hearing the two
+brothers sparring on each side of him, though they did not come to
+blows again. Whatever one said the other contradicted; if one said such
+a thing <i>is</i>, the other said, "I am sure it is <i>not</i>;" or, "There you
+go&mdash;that's just you." "Nonsense" was a favourite word of James's.
+"Nonsense, Will," was his constant answer to everything his brother
+proposed; and they used many words which Henry did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>All this time Tom did not appear, and his brothers did not seem to
+think about him.</p>
+
+<p>After a while William said:</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go into the cornfield, and see what the men are about; this
+yard is very dull."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said James, "let us show Master Fairchild the young bull."<!-- Page 239 --></p>
+
+<p>"No! no!" cried Henry, "I do not want to see it."</p>
+
+<p>Both the boys laughed outright at Henry's cry of "I do not want to see
+it;" and then they assured him that the creature was well tied up&mdash;he
+was in the cattle stall, just opposite to them, and could not hurt
+them; and they laughed again till Henry was ashamed, and said that he
+would go with them to look at him.</p>
+
+<p>The cattle stall was a long, low, and narrow building, which ran one
+whole side of the yard. At some seasons it was filled with cattle, each
+one having a separate stall, and being tied in it, but at this time
+there was no creature in it but this bull.</p>
+
+<p>Now it must be told that, whilst the boys were in the barn, and just
+about the time in which James and William had been scuffling with each
+other and making much noise, Tom, who had not yet taken the trouble to
+wash himself, had got to the top of the cattle shed, and had been
+amusing himself by provoking the bull through an air-hole in the roof.</p>
+
+<p>First he had thrown down on his head a quantity of house-leek which
+grew on the tiles, and then he had poked at him with a stick till the
+creature got furious and began to beat about him, and at length to set
+up a terrible bellowing.</p>
+
+<p>Tom knew well that he should get into trouble if it was found out that
+he had been provoking the creature; so down he slipped, and was off in
+another direction in a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>The labourers were all in the field, and Henry and his companions were
+in the barn, so that no one heard distinctly the bellowing of the bull
+but the girl in the dairy, and she had been too long accustomed to the
+noises of a farm to give it a second thought. The animal, however, was
+so furious that he broke his fastenings, snapping the ropes, and coming
+out of the stall, and even trying to<!-- Page 240 --> force the door of the shed; but
+in this he failed, as there was a wooden bar across it on the outside.
+After a little while he ceased to bellow, so no one was aware of the
+mischief which had been done, and no one suspected that the bull was
+loose.</p>
+
+<p>James walked first to the door of the cattle shed, William came next,
+and afterwards Henry.</p>
+
+<p>James did not find it easy to move the bar, so he called William to
+help him. The reason why it was hard to move was, that the head of the
+bull was against the door, and he was pressing it on the bar; the
+moment the bar was removed, the bull's head forced open the door, and
+there stood the sullen frowning creature in the very face of poor
+Henry, with nothing between them but a few yards of the court. The
+other two boys were, by the sudden opening of the door, forced behind
+it, so that the bull only saw Henry; but Henry did not stay to look at
+his fiery eyes, or to observe the temper in which he lowered his
+terrible head to the ground and came forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Run, run for your life!" cried William and James, from behind the
+door; and Henry did run, and the bull after him, bellowing and tearing
+up the ground before him; and he came on fast, but Henry had got the
+start of a few yards, and that start saved his life. Still he ran, the
+bull following after. Henry had not waited to consider which way he
+ran. He had taken his way in the direction of a lane which ran out of
+the yard; the gate was open&mdash;he flew through&mdash;the terrible beast was
+after him&mdash;he could hear his steps and his deep snortings and puffings;
+in another minute he would have reached Henry, and would probably have
+gored him to death, when all at once every dog about the farm, first
+called and then urged on by William and James, came barking and yelping
+in full cry on the heels of the bull.<!-- Page 241 --></p>
+
+<p>The leader of these was a bulldog of the true breed, and though young,
+had all his teeth in their full strength. Behind him came dogs of every
+kind which is common in this country, and if they could do little else,
+they could bay and yelp, and thus puzzle and perplex the bull.</p>
+
+<p>James and William, each with a stick in their hands, were behind them,
+urging them on, calling for help, and putting themselves to great
+danger for the sake of Henry. Tom was not there to see the mischief he
+had wrought.</p>
+
+<p>Another moment, and the bull would have been up with Henry, when he
+found himself bitten in the flank by the sharp fangs of Fury meeting in
+his flesh. The animal instantly turned upon the dog; most horribly did
+he bellow, and poor Henry then indeed felt that his last moment was
+come.</p>
+
+<p>The noises were becoming more dreadful every instant; the men came
+running from the fields, pouring into the lane from all sides: the
+women and girls from the house were shrieking over the low wall from
+the bottom of the court, so that the noise might be heard a mile
+distant.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Fairchild never looked back, but ran on as fast as he possibly
+could, till, after a little while, seeing a stile on his left hand, he
+sprang up to it, tumbled over in his haste, fell headlong on the
+new-shorn grass, and would have gotten no hurt whatever, had not his
+nose and his upper lip made too free with a good-sized stone. Henry's
+nose and lip being softer than the stone, they of course had the worst
+of it in the encounter.</p>
+
+<p>A very few minutes afterwards, but before the labourers had got the
+bull back into its place, which was no easy matter, one of the men,
+running from a distant field towards the noise, found poor Henry, took
+him up far more easily than he would have taken up a bag of meal,<!-- Page 242 --> and
+carried him, all bloody as he was, to the mistress, by a short cut
+through the garden.</p>
+
+<p>Henry's nose had bled, and was still bleeding, when the man brought him
+to the house; but no one even thought of him till the fierce bull was
+safe within four walls. But it had been a dangerous affair, as the men
+said, "to get <i>that</i> job done;" nor was it done till both Fury and the
+bull were covered with foam and blood.</p>
+
+<p>When everything was quiet in and about the yard, Mrs. Burke began to
+look up, not only her own children, but all the careless young people
+about.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Tom?" was the mother's first cry. Dick and Jane had made her
+know that they were not far off, by the noise they were both making.</p>
+
+<p>"Tom is quite safe," replied someone.</p>
+
+<p>"And Master Fairchild?" said Mrs. Burke.</p>
+
+<p>Every one then ran different ways to look for Henry, and when he was
+found, all covered in blood, in the kitchen, Mrs. Burke was, as she
+said, ready to faint away. Everybody, however, was glad when they found
+no harm was done to the child, beyond a bloody nose and a lip swelled
+to a monstrous size. Kind Mrs. Burke herself took him up to her boys'
+room, where she washed him and made him dress himself in a complete
+suit of Tom's, engaging to get his own things washed and cleaned for
+him in a few hours.</p>
+
+<p>She then brought him down into the parlour, set him on the sofa, gave
+him a piece of bread and honey, and begged him not to stir from thence
+till his father returned; nor had Henry any wish to disobey her.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was hardly seated on the couch with his bread and honey in his
+hand, when first one and then another of the children came in: the last
+who came was James, lugging in Tom.<!-- Page 243 --></p>
+
+<p>Now, it is very certain that Tom stood even in more need of a scouring
+and clean clothes than Henry had done; for he had not used water nor
+changed his clothes since he had been rolled by his brothers in the mud
+in the yard. This mud had dried upon him, and no one who did not expect
+to see him could possibly have known him. He was lugged by main force
+into the parlour, though he kicked and struggled, and held on upon
+everything within his reach. He came in as he had gone out; but when he
+was fairly in, he became quite still, and stood sulking.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what, mother," said James, "you may thank Tom for all
+the mischief&mdash;and he knows it."</p>
+
+<p>"Knows what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That it was through him the bull got loose, and that poor Fury is
+nearly killed."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure it was not," answered Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"I say it was," replied James; and then all the brothers and sisters
+began to speak at once.</p>
+
+<p><i>Judy.</i> "Just like you, Tom."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mary.</i> "And see what a condition he is in."</p>
+
+<p><i>William.</i> "You know Hodge saw you, Tom, on the top of the shed."</p>
+
+<p><i>Tom.</i> "I am sure he did not."</p>
+
+<p><i>Elizabeth.</i> "What a dirty creature you are, Tom; and how you smell of
+the stable!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Jane.</i> "Mother! mother! I want some bread and honey, like Master
+Fairchild."</p>
+
+<p><i>Dick.</i> "I want a sop in the pan, mother&mdash;mayn't I have a sop?"</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all this noise and confusion, in walked Mr. Fairchild
+and Mr. Burke. The men in the yard had told them of what had happened;
+and it had been made plain to Mr. Burke that Tom had been at the bottom
+of the mischief.<!-- Page 244 --></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild hastened in all anxiety to his poor boy; and was full of
+thankfulness to God for having saved him from the dreadful danger which
+had threatened him; and Mr. Burke began to speak to his son Tom with
+more severity than he often used. He even called for a cane, and said
+he would give it him soundly, and at that minute too; but Mrs. Burke
+stepped in and begged him off; and as she stood between him and his
+father he slunk away, and kept out of his sight as long as Henry and
+Mr. Fairchild stayed.</p>
+
+<p>If Tom never came within sight of his father all the rest of that day,
+Henry never once went out of the reach of his father's eye.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner and tea, Henry was again dressed in his own clothes, which
+Mrs. Burke had got washed and cleaned for him, and in the cool of the
+evening he walked quietly home with his father.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa!" said Henry, when they came again under the shade of
+Blackwood, "I do not now wish to have my own way, as I did this
+morning, I am now quite sure that it does not make people happy to have
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, my boy," replied Mr. Fairchild, "you have learned a very good
+lesson to-day, and I trust that you will never forget it."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 245 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Story_in_Emilys_Book_Part_I" id="The_Story_in_Emilys_Book_Part_I"></a>The Story in Emily's Book. Part I.</h3>
+
+<a name="image_245"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/245.png" border="0" width="578" height="326" ALT="Lucy and Emily had now each a doll"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> little books brought by Lucy were not even looked at until the
+evening came which was to be given up to reading the first of them.
+Henry had begged that his book might be read last, because he said that
+he should be sure to like it best; so Emily's was to afford the
+amusement for the first evening.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild gave notice in the morning of his being able to give up
+that evening to this pleasure; not that he wished to hear the story,
+but that he meant to be of the party, and the root-house in the wood
+was the place chosen.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily had now each a doll to take, and there was some bustle
+to get them ready after lessons.</p>
+
+<p>Henry took his knife and some little bits of wood to cut and carve
+whilst the reading was going on; Mrs. Fairchild took her needlework;
+and there was a basket containing nice white cakes of bread made for
+the purpose, a little fruit, a bottle of milk, and a cup. The little
+ones, by<!-- Page 246 --> turns, were to carry this basket between them. Mr. Fairchild
+took a book to please himself; and at four o'clock they set out.</p>
+
+<p>When they all got to the hut they were soon all settled. There were
+seats in the hut; Henry took the lowest of them. Mrs. Fairchild took
+out her work; Mr. Fairchild stretched himself on the grass, within
+sight of his family. Emily and Lucy were to read by turns, and Lucy was
+to begin. She laid her pretty doll across her lap, and thus she began:</p>
+
+
+<p>The Story in Emily's Book</p>
+
+<p>"On the borders of Switzerland, towards the north, is a range of hills,
+of various heights, called the Hartsfells, or, in English, the Hills of
+the Deer. These hills are not very high for that country, though in
+England they would be called mountains. In winter they were indeed
+covered with snow, but in summer all this snow disappeared, being
+gradually melted, and coming down in beautiful cascades from the
+heights into the valleys, and so passing away to one or other of the
+many lakes which were in the neighbourhood.</p>
+
+<p>"The tops of some of the Hartsfells were crowned with ragged rocks,
+which looked, at a distance, like old towers and walls and battlements;
+and the sides of these more rocky hills were steep and stony and
+difficult. Others of these hills sloped gently towards the plain below,
+and were covered with a fine green sward in the summer&mdash;so fine and
+soft, indeed, that the little children from the villages in the valleys
+used to climb up to them in order to have the pleasure of rolling down
+them.<!-- Page 247 --></p>
+
+<p>"These greener hills were also adorned with large and beautiful trees
+under which the shepherds sat when they drove their flocks up on the
+mountain pastures, called in that country the Alps, to fatten on the
+short fine grass and sweet herbs, which grew there in the summer-time.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the flowers&mdash;who can count the numbers and varieties of the
+flowers which grew on those hills, and which budded and bloomed through
+all the lovely months of spring, of summer, and of autumn? Sometimes
+the shepherds, as they sat in the shade watching their sheep, would
+play sweet tunes on their pipes and flutes, for a shepherd who could
+not use a flute was thought little of in those hills. It was sweet to
+hear those pipes and flutes from a little distance, when all was quiet
+among the hills, excepting the ever restless and ever dancing waters.
+There were many villages among the hills, each village having a valley
+to itself; but there is only one of these of which this story speaks.</p>
+
+<p>"It was called Hartsberg, or the Town of the Deer, and was situated in
+one of the fairest valleys of the Hartsfells. The valley was accounted
+to be the fairest, because there was the finest cascade belonging to
+those hills rushing and roaring at the very farthest point of the
+valley; and the groves, too, on each side of the valley were very grand
+and old.</p>
+
+<p>"The village itself was built in the Swiss fashion, chiefly of wood,
+with roofs of wooden tiles, called shingles; and many of them had
+covered galleries round the first floor. The only house much better
+than the others was the Protestant pastor's, though this was not much
+more than a large cottage, but it stood in a very neat garden.</p>
+
+<p>"There were a few, but a very few, houses separate from this village
+itself, built on the sides of the hills; and those belonged to
+peasants, or small farmers.</p>
+
+<p>"In the summer-time strangers sometimes came from a<!-- Page 248 --> distance to look
+at the famous waterfall, and to gather such scarce flowers as they
+could find on the hills. It was a good thing for Heister Kamp, the
+widow who kept the little inn in the village, when these strangers
+came, for it not only put money into her pocket, but gave her something
+to talk of. She was the greatest gossip in the valley, and, like all
+gossips, the most curious person also, for nothing could pass but she
+must meddle and make with it; and it was very seldom that things were
+the better for her meddling.</p>
+
+<p>"Most of the inhabitants of the village were Protestants, but there
+were a few Roman Catholics, and these had a priest, an elderly man, who
+was a great friend of Heister Kamp, and might often be seen in her
+kitchen, talking over with her the affairs of the village. He was
+called Father St. Goar, and he had a small chapel, and a little bit of
+a house attached to it. His chapel was less than the Protestant church,
+but it looked far more grand within, for there was an altar dressed
+with artificial flowers, and burnished brass candlesticks, and over it
+waxen figures of the Virgin Mary and her Child, in very gaudy though
+tarnished dresses.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, having described the place, and some of the people, there is
+nothing to hinder the story from going on to something more amusing.</p>
+
+<p>"On the right hand of the great waterfall, and perched high on the
+hill, was an old house standing in a very lovely and fruitful garden;
+the garden faced the south, and was sheltered from the north and east
+winds by a grove of ancient trees.</p>
+
+<p>"The garden abounded with fruit and flowers and vegetables, and there
+were also many bee-hives; behind the house were several sheds and other
+buildings, and a pen for sheep.<!-- Page 249 --></p>
+
+<p>"This house was the property of a family which had resided there longer
+than the history of the village could tell. The name was Stolberg, and
+the family, though they had never been rich, had never sought help from
+others, and were highly respected by all who knew them.</p>
+
+<p>"At the time of this history the household consisted of the venerable
+mother, Monique Stolberg, her son Martin, a widower, and the three
+children of Martin; Ella, Jacques, and Margot.</p>
+
+<p>"Ella was not yet fourteen; she was a tall girl of her age, and had
+been brought up with the greatest care by her grandmother, though made
+to put her hand to everything required in her station. Ella was spoken
+of as the best-behaved, most modest, and altogether the finest and
+fairest of all the girls in the valley.</p>
+
+<p>"Heister Kamp said that she was as proud and lofty as the eagle of the
+hills. But Ella was not proud; she was only modest and retiring, and
+said little to strangers.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques was some years younger than Ella; he loved his parents and
+sisters, and would do anything for them in his power; but he was hot
+and hasty, especially to those he did not love.</p>
+
+<p>"Margot was still a little plump, smiling, chattering, child, almost a
+baby in her ways; but everyone loved her, for she was as a pet lamb,
+under the eye of the shepherd.</p>
+
+<p>"Monique had received her, before she could walk, from her dying
+mother, and she had reared her with the tenderest care.</p>
+
+<p>"As to Martin, more need not be said of him but that the wish to please
+God was ever present with him. He had been the best of sons; and, when
+his wife died, he was rewarded for his filial piety by the care which
+his mother took of his children and his house.<!-- Page 250 --></p>
+
+<p>"Monique had had one other child besides Martin; a daughter, who had
+married and gone over the hills with her husband into France; but her
+marriage had proved unfortunate. She had resided at Vienne, in the
+south of France, and there she had left one child, Meeta, a girl of
+about the age of Ella.</p>
+
+<p>"When Martin heard of the death of his sister, and the forlorn state of
+the orphan, he set himself to go to Vienne; it was winter-time, and he
+rode to the place on a little mountain pony which he had; but he walked
+back nearly the whole way, having set Meeta, with her bundle, on the
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone at home was pleased with Meeta when she arrived, though
+Monique secretly wondered how she could be so merry when her parents
+were hardly cold in their graves. Meeta was not, however, cold-hearted,
+but she was thoughtless, and she enjoyed the change of scene, and was
+pleased with her newly-known relations and their manner of life.</p>
+
+<p>"Little plump baby-like Margot was scarcely less formed in her mind
+than Meeta, though Meeta was as old as Ella: and of the two, Margot, as
+will be seen by-and-by, was more to be depended on than Meeta. Margot,
+when duly admonished on any point, could be prudent, but Meeta could
+not; yet Meeta was so merry, so obliging, and so good-humoured, that
+everyone in the cottage soon learned to love her; though some of them,
+and especially Monique, saw very clearly that there was much to be done
+to improve her and render her a steady character.</p>
+
+<p>"She was quick, active, and ready to put her hand to assist in
+anything; but she had no perseverance; she got tired of every job
+before it was half done, and she could do nothing without talking about
+it. As to religious prin<!-- Page 251 -->ciples and religious feelings, her grandmother
+could not find out that she had any. She was so giddy that she could
+give no account of what she had been taught, though Monique gathered
+from her that her poor mother had said much to her upon religious
+subjects during her last short illness. The snow was still thick upon
+the hills when Martin Stolberg brought Meeta to Hartsberg; so that the
+young people were quite well acquainted with each other before the
+gentle breezes of spring began to loosen the bands of the frost, and
+dissolve the icicles which hung from the rocks on the sides of the
+waterfall.</p>
+
+<p>"During that time poor Martin Stolberg was much tried by several heavy
+losses amongst his live stock: a fine cow and several sheep died, and
+when the poor man had replaced these, he said, with a sigh to his
+mother, that he must deny himself and his children everything which
+possibly could be spared, till better days came round again.</p>
+
+<p>"His mother answered, with her usual quiet cheerfulness:</p>
+
+<p>"'So be it, my son, and I doubt not but that all is right, for if
+everything went smooth in this world we should be apt to forget that we
+are strangers and pilgrims here, and that this is not our home.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Monique told Ella what her father had said, the young girl got
+leave to go down to the village, and, when there, she went to Madame
+Eversil, the pastor's lady, and having told her of her father's
+difficulties, she asked her if she could point out any means by which
+she might get a little money to help in these difficulties.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Eversil, though a very simple man, was not so poor as many
+Swiss pastors are. He had no children, and his lady had had money.
+Madame wished to assist Ella, whom she much loved; but she rather
+hesitated before she said to her:<!-- Page 252 --></p>
+
+<p>"'I have been accustomed to have my linen taken up to be washed and
+bleached upon the mountains every summer. The woman who did this for me
+is just gone out of the country; if you will do it, you will gain
+enough during the summer to make up for the loss of the cow. But are
+you not above such work as this, Ella? They say of you that you are
+proud&mdash;is this true?'</p>
+
+<p>"The bright dark eyes of Ella filled with tears, and she looked down
+upon the polished floor of the parlour in which she was talking with
+Madame Eversil.</p>
+
+<p>"'I know not, Madame,' she answered, 'whether I am proud or not, but I
+earnestly desire not to be so; and I thank you for your kind proposal,
+and as I am sure that I know my grandmother's mind, I accept it most
+joyfully.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was then settled that Madame Eversil should send all the linen
+which had been used during the winter, to be washed and whitened and
+scented with sweet herbs, up to the hill as soon as the snow was
+cleared from the lower Alps. And Ella went gaily back to tell her
+grandmother and Meeta what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>"They were both pleased; Meeta loved the thoughts of any new
+employment, and Monique promised her advice and assistance. Even
+Jacques, when he came in, said he thought he might help also in drawing
+water and spreading the linen on the grass.</p>
+
+<p>"'And I,' said little Margot, 'can gather the flowers to lay upon the
+things&mdash;can't I, Ella?'</p>
+
+<p>"So this matter was settled, and everyone in the family was pleased.
+The winter at length passed away: the cascades flowed freely from the
+melting snow; the wind blew softly from the south; the grass looked of
+the brightest, freshest green; and every brake was gay with flowers,
+amongst which none were more beautiful or abundant than<!-- Page 253 --> the
+rose-coloured primrose or the blue gentian. The sheep, which had been
+penned up during the winter, were drawn out on the fresh pastures, and
+strangers began to come to the valley to see the waterfall, near to
+which they climbed by the sheep-path, which ran just under the hedge of
+Martin Stolberg's garden. Even before May was over, Jacques, who was
+all day abroad on the hills watching his sheep, counted eight or nine
+parties, which came in carriages to the inn, and climbed the mountain
+on foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Heister Kamp was quite set up by the honour of receiving so many noble
+persons in her house, and still more pleased in pocketing the silver
+she got from them.</p>
+
+<p>"There was great benefit also to Father St. Goar from the coming of
+these strangers, for he never failed to drop in just about the time
+that the guests had finished their dinner, and was always invited to
+taste of any savoury dish which remained, to which Heister generally
+added a bottle of the ordinary wine of the country.</p>
+
+<p>"Things were being carried on in this sort of way when, one morning in
+the beginning of June, Margot and Meeta and Jacques went higher up the
+hill towards the waterfall to gather sweet herbs and flowers to strew
+upon the linen that was spread on the sward before the cottage door.</p>
+
+<p>"Margot could not reach the roses which grew above her head, so she
+busied herself in plucking the wild thyme and other lowly flowers which
+grew on either side of the path, putting them into her little basket
+and calling out from one moment to another:</p>
+
+<p>"'See, Jacques! see, see, Meeta! see how pretty!'</p>
+
+<p>"But Meeta and Jacques were too busy to attend to her, for Meeta had
+climbed on a huge piece which had fallen from the rock, and was
+throwing wreaths of roses to Jacques, who was gathering them up; but at
+length it was<!-- Page 254 --> impossible for them not to give some attention to the
+little one, she was calling to them with such impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"'Come, Jacques! come, Meeta!' she cried, 'I have found such a pretty
+little green fishing-net, all spotted with moons; and it has got rings,
+pretty gold rings; and there are yellow fish in it.' And she quite
+stamped with eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"'What does she say?' cried Meeta; 'little magpie, what is it?'</p>
+
+<p>"'A pretty little net,' replied Margot, 'and fish in it, and moons and
+rings. Oh, come, come!'</p>
+
+<p>"'She has found something strange,' said Jacques; 'I hope nothing that
+will hurt her.' And down he came tumbling, in his own active way,
+straight to his little sister, being quickly followed by Meeta.</p>
+
+<p>"Margot was holding up what she had found, crying:</p>
+
+<p>"'Pretty, pretty, pretty!' for it was quite bright and sparkling in the
+sun.</p>
+
+<p>"'It is a purse!' said Jacques.</p>
+
+<p>"'A green silk purse,' added Meeta, 'with gold spangles and tassels,
+and gold rings, and it is full of louis d'ors; give it to me, Margot.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No, no, no!' cried the little girl; 'no, it is for grandmother; I
+shall take it to her.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It is a valuable purse,' said Jacques; 'somebody has lost it; now
+grandmother will be rich! Let me see it, Margot; let me see what is in
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No, no, no!' cried the little one, clasping it in both her dimpled
+hands; 'you shall not have it! it is for grandmother.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Only let me carry it to the door,' said Jacques, 'for fear you should
+drop anything out of it; and when you come to the door, I will put it
+into your own hands.'</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques never said what was not true to Margot, and<!-- Page 255 --> Margot knew it;
+she, therefore, was content to give the purse to him; and the three
+then set off to run home as fast as they could.</p>
+
+<p>"They supposed that no one had seen them when they were talking about
+the purse, but they were mistaken; Father St. Goar was not far off,
+though hidden from them by a part of the rock which projected between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"He heard Margot cry and talk of having found a net, and golden fish in
+it; but when Meeta and Jacques came near to the child, he could hear no
+more, because they spoke lower than before. He had heard enough,
+however; and when he went back to the village, he told Heister Kamp
+what he had seen, and made her more curious than himself to find out
+what it could be, though she felt pretty sure that it must be a purse
+of gold.</p>
+
+<p>"How astonished was Monique when little Margot put the purse in her
+lap, for she was sitting at work just within the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta would not let Margot tell her own story, but raised her voice so
+high that Martin himself from one side, and Ella from another, came to
+see what could have happened. They came in just in time to see Monique
+empty the purse, and count the golden pieces. There were as many as
+fifteen on the one side of the purse, and on the other was a ring with
+a precious stone in it, and four pieces of paper curiously stamped.
+Martin Stolberg saw at once that these pieces of paper were worth many
+times the value of the gold, for he or any man might have changed them
+for ten pounds each.</p>
+
+<p>"'Son,' said Monique, 'Margot found this near the waterfall; it must
+have been lost by some of the visitors; it is a wonder that we have
+heard of no one coming to look after it. What can we do with it?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Buy a cow, father,' said Jacques.<!-- Page 256 --></p>
+
+<p>"Martin Stolberg shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"'It is not ours, Jacques,' he said, 'though we have found it; we must
+keep it honestly for the owner, should he ever come to claim it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Father,' said Jacques, 'I was not thinking, or I hope I should not
+have said those words.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I know you spoke hastily, Jacques,' replied Martin; and then having
+given Margot a few little pieces of copper money as reward for her
+giving up the little net to her grandmother, he took his venerable
+parent by the hand, and led her into an inner room, where they settled
+what was to be done with the purse.</p>
+
+<p>"Martin said that the children must all be seriously enjoined never to
+mention the subject, because many dishonest persons might, if they
+could get at the description of the purse and its contents, come
+forward to claim it, and thus it might be lost to the real owner.</p>
+
+<p>"'But,' he added, 'lest I should be tempted to use any of the money for
+myself, I will take the purse down to-morrow to the pastor's, and leave
+it in his care. Where it is, however, must not be known even to the
+children, lest we should bring inconvenience upon him. In the meantime,
+dear mother, do you stow the treasure safely away, and charge the young
+ones not to mention what we have found to anyone.'</p>
+
+<p>"Martin then left the house; and Monique, going up to the room where
+she slept, and where the great family chest was kept, called all her
+grandchildren, and letting them see where she put the purse, she
+charged them, one and all, not to speak one word to any person out of
+the house about the treasure which had been found.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why must not we, grandmother?' said Margot.</p>
+
+<p>"'Because,' replied Monique, 'if any thieves were to hear that we had
+got so much money in the house, they<!-- Page 257 --> might come some time when your
+father was out, and break open the chest and steal it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And perhaps they might kill us,' replied Margot, trembling all over.</p>
+
+<p>"'We must not speak of it, then,' said Ella, 'to anyone.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Our best way,' remarked Jacques, 'will be not to mention it to each
+other. We will never speak of it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'How can we help it?' said Meeta; 'I can never help talking of what I
+am thinking about.'</p>
+
+<p>"'That is a mistake of yours, Meeta,' said Monique; 'you never talk of
+some things which happened at Vienne, which you think would be no
+credit to you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You mean about our being so very poor, and being forced to sell our
+clothes, grandmother? I don't think that I should go to talk of that to
+strangers.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Then you can keep some things to yourself, Meeta,' said Monique; 'and
+we shall not excuse you if you are so imprudent as to let out this
+affair of the treasure we have found to anyone.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't fear me, grandmother,' returned Meeta; 'nobody shall hear from
+me&mdash;but we must watch little Margot.'</p>
+
+<p>"That same evening, Martin Stolberg carried the purse and all the
+contents down to the house of the good pastor. He gave as his reason
+for so doing, that, being himself somewhat pressed for money, he did
+not dare to trust himself with this treasure."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 258 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Story_in_Emilys_Book_Part_II" id="The_Story_in_Emilys_Book_Part_II"></a>The Story in Emily's Book. Part II.</h3>
+
+<a name="image_258"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/258.png" border="0" width="592" height="322" ALT="Going gaily down the hill"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Lucy</span> had read first, and when she had finished the half of the story,
+Mrs. Fairchild proposed that they should take what was in the basket,
+before they went on to the second part.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild was called in, and Mrs. Fairchild served each person from
+the store.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite sure," said Emily, "that Monique Stolberg never made nicer
+cakes than these."</p>
+
+<p>"Papa," said Lucy, "I cannot help thinking that your book is not half
+so pretty as ours. You don't know what a pleasant story we have been
+reading, and we have half of it left to read. Shall I tell it to you,
+papa?" she added; and springing up, she placed herself close to him,
+putting one arm round his neck, and in a few minutes she made him as
+well acquainted with Monique, and Martin, and Ella, and Meeta, and
+Jacques, and Margot, and Heister Kamp, and Father St. Goar, as she was
+herself; "and now, papa," she said, "will any of the children, do you
+think, betray the secret?"<!-- Page 259 --></p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Fairchild, smiling, "one of them will."</p>
+
+<p>"And who will that be, papa?" said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Not Jacques," replied Henry, though he was not asked; "I am sure it
+will not be Jacques."</p>
+
+<p>"Wherefore, Henry?" said Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is a boy," replied Henry, "and boys never tell secrets."</p>
+
+<p>"And are never imprudent!" answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "that is
+something new to me; but in this case I do not think it will be Jacques
+who will tell this secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Not Ella, papa?" asked Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure it will not be Ella," added Lucy; "it must be between Meeta
+and little Margot."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably," said Mr. Fairchild; "and I have a notion which of the two
+it will be; and I shall whisper my suspicions to Henry; as he, being a
+boy, will be sure to keep my secret till the truth comes out of itself.
+Of course he might be trusted with a thing much more important than
+this."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild then whispered either the name of Meeta or Margot to
+Henry; at any rate, he whispered a name beginning with an "M," and
+Henry looked not a little set up in having been thus chosen as his
+father's confidant.</p>
+
+<p>When every one of the children were satisfied, they placed the cup and
+the fragments in the basket, and then they all settled themselves in
+readiness for the rest of the story.</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"We must now turn, a little while, from the quiet, happy family in
+Martin Stolberg's cottage to Heister Kamp. What Father St. Goar had
+told her about Stolberg's children having found something curious near
+the waterfall had worked in her mind for above a week, for so long it
+was since Margot had found the purse; and she had<!-- Page 260 --> watched for some of
+the children passing by her door every day since.</p>
+
+<p>"On the Sunday morning they did indeed pass by to go to church, but
+their father and grandmother were with them; and she knew well enough
+that she should have no chance of any of them when the older and wiser
+people were present.</p>
+
+<p>"The family came to church in the afternoon, but Heister was at chapel
+then.</p>
+
+<p>"In the evening, however, she made up her mind to climb the hill as far
+as the cascade, hoping there to meet one or two of the children
+standing about the place.</p>
+
+<p>"It was hot work for Heister to make her way up the hill so far, but
+what will not curious people do to satisfy their curiosity? And just
+then the village was particularly dull and quiet, as no stranger had
+happened to come for the last ten days, and many of the poor women had
+left their houses and gone up with their flocks to the ch&acirc;lets on the
+mountains.</p>
+
+<p>"When Heister got near Stolberg's cottage she met Jacques. He was going
+down on an errand to the pastor's from his father. He made a bow, and
+would have passed, when Heister stopped him to ask after his
+grandmother's health. When she had got an answer to this inquiry, she
+asked him various other questions about the lambs, the bees, and other
+matters belonging to the farm and garden; and then, with great seeming
+innocence, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"'You were looking for some herbs the other day, were you not, by the
+waterfall, and your sister found a very rare one, did she not? I ask
+you because I have many a chance of parting with scarce plants, dried
+and put into paper, to the strangers who come into the house.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I don't think,' answered Jacques, 'that little Margot would know a
+scarce plant if she found one.'<!-- Page 261 --></p>
+
+<p>"'But she did find something very curious that day,' said Heister.</p>
+
+<p>"'What day?' asked Jacques.</p>
+
+<p>"'It might be ten days since,' said Heister.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ten days?' repeated Jacques; 'what makes you remember ten days ago so
+particularly?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, but was it not about ten days ago,' returned Heister, 'that she
+found something very curious in the grass, and called on you to come
+and look at it?'</p>
+
+<p>"'There is scarce a day,' answered Jacques, 'in which she does not call
+me to come to her and see something she has met with more wonderful
+than ordinary. What was it she said when she called me that day you
+speak of? If you can tell me, why then I shall better know how to
+answer you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'She spoke of having found a net with golden fish and moons,' replied
+Heister; 'what could she mean?'</p>
+
+<p>"'It is difficult to know what she does mean sometimes,' said Jacques;
+'for the dear little lamb talks so fast that we do not attend to half
+she says. But is she not a nice little creature, Madame Kamp, and a
+merry one too?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, to be sure,' replied Heister; 'but about the net and the
+fish&mdash;what could the little one mean?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Who heard her talk of them?' asked Jacques. 'Ask those who heard her,
+madame. <i>They</i> ought to be able to tell you more about it. But I must
+wish you good evening, as I am in haste to go to the pastor's.'</p>
+
+<p>"Heister saw that she could make nothing of Jacques, so she let him go,
+pretending that she was herself going no higher, but about to turn
+another way.</p>
+
+<p>"As soon, however, as Jacques was out of sight, she came back into the
+path which ran at the bottom of the cottage garden, and there she saw
+little Margot seated on the bank under the hedge, with a nosegay in her
+hand.<!-- Page 262 --></p>
+
+<p>"The little one was dressed in her clean Sunday clothes, in the fashion
+of the country, and she wore a full striped petticoat which Monique had
+spun of lamb's-wool, a white jacket with short sleeves like the body of
+a frock, and a flowered chintz apron. Her pretty hair was left to curl
+naturally, and no child could have had a fairer, softer, purer
+complexion.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now,' thought Heister, 'I shall have it;' and she walked smilingly up
+to the child, and spoke fondly to her, asking her, 'where she got that
+pretty new apron?'</p>
+
+<a name="image_263"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/263.png" border="0"
+ width="466" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Margot rose and made a curtsey.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_262a_text">Page 262</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="page_262a_text"></a>"Margot rose, made a curtsey, as she had been taught, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Grandmother made it, madame.'</p>
+
+<p>"Heister praised her pretty face, her bright eyes, her nice curling
+hair; and then she asked her if she had any pretty flowers to give her.</p>
+
+<p>"Margot immediately offered her nosegay, but she refused it, saying she
+did not want such flowers as those, but such curious ones as she
+sometimes found near the waterfall.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have got none now,' answered Margot.</p>
+
+<p>"'But you found a very curious one the other day, did you not, my
+pretty little damsel?' said Heister.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, madame,' said Margot, brightening up; 'yes, madame, I did.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ay, I have it now,' thought Heister; and she patted the little one as
+she said, 'Was it not bright and shining like gold, and was there not
+something about it like moons?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, no, madame,' replied the child; 'it was some pretty blue flowers
+that come every year. Jacques said they are called gentians; but I call
+them fairies' eyes, for they are just the very colour I always fancy
+the fairy of the Hartsfell's eyes must be&mdash;they are so very blue.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, well!' exclaimed Heister, hastily, 'I dare say<!-- Page 263 --><!-- Page 264 --><!-- Page 265 --> they were
+very pretty; but did you not find something more curious on the
+mountains than flowers? What was it you found, that Monique praised you
+for finding, and told you you were a good child for giving it up to
+her?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh! it was the wild strawberries,' cried Margot; 'the pretty mountain
+strawberries. Grandmother thanked me for bringing her home the
+strawberries, for she said she had not tasted them since she was a
+girl.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Pshaw, child,' said Heister Kamp impatiently; 'it is not that I want
+to know. What was it you called a golden fish and moons?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Moons!' repeated Margot, colouring up to her very brow, 'moons,
+madame?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ay, moons, child. What do you mean by moons?'</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Margot! she was sadly put to for an answer, for she
+remembered what her grandmother had told her about keeping the secret
+of the purse; and not being old enough to evade a direct reply, she
+burst into tears, taking up her apron to her face.</p>
+
+<p>"'So you will not tell me what you call moons?' said Heister angrily;
+then, softening her tone, she added, 'Here, my pretty Margot, is a sou
+(or penny) for you, if you will tell me what you mean by moons and
+golden fish.' But seeing the child irresolute, she added, 'If you do
+not choose to tell, get out of my way, you little sulky thing.'</p>
+
+<p>"Margot waited no more, but the next moment the prudent little girl was
+up the bank and in the cottage, where she found her grandmother alone,
+to whom she told her troubles. Monique kissed her, wiped away her
+tears, and, taking her on her knee, she made the little one's eyes once
+more beam forth with smiles."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"There," said Henry, "just as papa said&mdash;he knew it would be Meeta."<!-- Page 266 --></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Henry!" said Mrs. Fairchild, smiling, "how nicely you have kept
+papa's secret! You see you would not have done so well as little Margot
+did with Heister Kamp."</p>
+
+<p>Henry made no answer, and Emily went on.</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;"><a name="tn_pg_302"></a><!-- TN: Extra space added here-->
+
+<p>"Jacques had made up his mind never to allude to the affair of the
+treasure by a single word, so he kept his meeting with Heister to
+himself; and when you have read a little more, you will say how unlucky
+it was that he did so, or that Meeta was not present when Margot had
+been with her grandmother; but when you have read to the end, you will
+say it was all right as it was.</p>
+
+<p>"In the evening of the next day, Ella, with the help of Monique and
+Meeta, finished the getting up of a portion of the fine linen of Madame
+Eversil. It was therefore placed neatly in a basket covered with a
+white cloth, and sprinkled over with the fairest and choicest of
+flowers which could be gathered; and then Ella, being neatly dressed,
+raised it on her head, and set off with it to the village.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish we had a picture of Ella, just as she was that evening, going
+gaily down the hill with the basket so nicely balanced on her head,
+that she hardly ever put her hand to steady it, though she went
+skipping down the hill like the harts which in former times had given
+their name to the place.</p>
+
+<p>"She was dressed much as her little sister had been the evening before,
+only that she wore a linen kerchief and a linen cap, and her dark hair
+was simply braided. She loved to go to the pastor's, and she loved to
+be in motion; so she was very happy.</p>
+
+<p>"Her light basket travelled safely on her head, and nothing happened to
+disarrange it, excepting that one end of a long wreath of scarlet roses
+escaped from the inner<!-- Page 267 --> part of the basket, and hung down from thence
+by the side of the fair cheeks of the young girl.</p>
+
+<p>"When Ella entered the little street, she saw no one till she came
+opposite the <i>Lion d'Or</i>, or <i>Golden Lion</i>, the house of Madame Kamp,
+and there she saw Heister, seated in the porch, knitting herself a
+petticoat of dyed wool in long stripes of various colours, with needles
+longer than her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Heister liked knitting&mdash;it is the most convenient work for one who
+loves talking; the fingers may go whilst the tongue is most busy.</p>
+
+<p>"Ella would have gone on without noticing Madame Kamp, but Heister had
+no mind that she should.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good evening, Ella Stolberg,' she cried, 'whither away in such
+haste?&mdash;but I know, to Madame Eversil's. Can't you stop a minute? I
+have a word to say to you.'</p>
+
+<p>"Ella stopped, though not willingly.</p>
+
+<p>"'You look very bright and fair this evening, Ella,' said the cunning
+woman; 'and that garland hanging from your basket would be an ornament
+to Saint Flora herself; whose fancy was that, my girl? But it is a
+shame, Ella, that such a girl as you should be employed in getting up
+other people's linen&mdash;you above all, when there is no manner of
+necessity for it. I am much mistaken,' she added, with a cunning look,
+'if there are not more gold-fish in your father's net than ever found
+their way into mine.'</p>
+
+<p>"Ella was a little startled at this speech, and felt herself getting
+redder than she wished. She suddenly caught at her basket, brought it
+down from her head, and said, 'What garland is it you mean, neighbour?'
+and she busied herself in arranging the flowers again.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, but the fish, Ella&mdash;the silver and golden fish in the net,'
+said Heister, 'what have you to say about them?'<!-- Page 268 --></p>
+
+<p>"Ella placed the basket on her head as she replied gaily:</p>
+
+<p>"'If there are gold and silver fish in plenty in the Hartsberg lakes,
+neighbour, it is but fair that they should sometimes be caught in nets.
+Fishes have no reason to guide them from danger; they are easily caught
+in nets. I must not, then, take example from them, else I shall, too,
+some day, perhaps, be caught. Jacques lays many a snare or nets for the
+birds of the mountains,' she added, as if to turn the conversation;
+'and once Margot found a young one caught, but she cried so bitterly
+about it that we took it home and nursed it till it got well. Did you
+ever see our starling, neighbour?'</p>
+
+<p>"'A pretty turn off!' said Heister; 'but you know that I mean the gold
+and silver fish to be louis-d'ors and francs, Ella. Has not your father
+now, girl, got more of these than he ever had in his life before?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I know this,' replied Ella, calmly, 'that I do firmly believe that my
+father never was so short of money as he is now: and this reminds me I
+must not linger, as I promised Madame Eversil a portion of her linen
+to-day: so good-evening, madame.'</p>
+
+<p>"Heister looked after Ella as she walked away, and muttered:</p>
+
+<p>"'The saucy cunning girl! but I am not deceived; I can trust Father St.
+Goar better than any one of those Stolbergs.'</p>
+
+<p>"About an hour before Ella had passed the <i>Lion d'Or</i>, a wild dark
+woman had come to the house to sell horn and wooden spoons. Heister had
+taken a few, and in return had given her a handful of broken victuals
+and a cup of wine; she had not carried these things away to eat and
+drink them, but had merely gone round the corner of the house, and sat
+herself down there in the dust. She<!-- Page 269 --> was so near that she could hear
+all that had passed between Ella and Heister; above all, that Ella had
+said her father was decidedly short of money.</p>
+
+<p>"Ella had hardly turned into the gate of the pastor's house when Meeta
+appeared, going along after her. Monique had forgotten to send by Ella
+a pot of honey which she meant as a present to the pastor; and <a name="page_269_text"></a>Meeta
+had offered to carry it, saying that she would have great pleasure in
+the errand, and would return with Ella. Monique gave permission; and
+Meeta appeared opposite to the <i>Golden Lion</i> not five minutes after
+Ella was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"'A very good evening to you, Meeta,' cried Heister from the porch;
+'whither away in such haste? Stop a bit, I beseech you, and give a few
+minutes of your company to a neighbour. And how are all at home on the
+hill? I have been telling Ella, your cousin Ella, that she looked like
+the saint of the May. But you, Meeta, why, you might be painted for our
+Lady herself&mdash;so fresh and blooming, with your bright eyes and ruddy
+cheeks. But Ella tells me that things go hard with poor good Martin
+Stolberg&mdash;that he is short of money; and I am sorry, for I hoped that
+he had met with some good luck lately, and I fear that what I heard is
+not true.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What luck?' asked Meeta.</p>
+
+<p>"'Someone told me,' said Heister, 'that the little one had found a
+purse.'</p>
+
+<p>"'A purse?' repeated Meeta.</p>
+
+<p>"'What is a net,' answered Heister, 'with gold fish in it but a purse
+with gold pieces inside?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Where&mdash;where,' cried Meeta, 'could you have heard that? for
+grandmother was so very particular in making us promise not to mention
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Heard it!' repeated the cunning widow; 'why, is not everything known
+that is done in the valley?'<!-- Page 270 --></p>
+
+<p>"'But how?' asked Meeta; 'yet I can guess: Margot has told you. I said
+I thought Margot would tell all about it. But do tell me, how came you
+to hear it?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh! there are a thousand ways of getting at the truth,' replied
+Heister; 'for if anything does happen out of the very commonest way, is
+it not talked of in my house by those who come and go? But this thing
+is in everybody's mouth, and people don't scruple to say that there
+were a vast number of golden pieces in the purse&mdash;some say a hundred.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Nay, nay,' replied Meeta, 'that is overdoing it; I really don't think
+there are more than fifteen.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Well,' returned Heister, 'I don't want to know exactly how many there
+are&mdash;I am not curious; no one troubles herself less with other people's
+affairs than I do; but I am glad this good luck has come to Martin
+Stolberg, above all others in the valley.'</p>
+
+<p>"'That is very kind of you,' replied Meeta, 'but I do not see what luck
+it is to him, for the money is not his, and he could not think of
+spending it: it is all put by in some safe place in the house.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Very good, very right,' answered Heister. 'No, no! Martin could never
+have such a thought. But where in the world can you find a place in the
+house safe enough for so many pieces? I should doubt whether they could
+count as many together even at Madame Eversil's. So you say there are
+fifteen, pretty Meeta? and though no doubt they take but little
+house-room, yet I should be sorry to keep so many in my poor little
+cottage, for I know not where I could stow them safely. I suppose
+neighbour Monique keeps them in her blue cupboard near the
+kitchen-stove?&mdash;a very good and a very safe place, no doubt, for them.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, no,' cried Meeta, 'she has them in her chest<!-- Page 271 --> above stairs, and
+my uncle keeps the key himself, and carries it about with him; but what
+am I doing here, lingering? Ella will have left the pastor's before I
+have reached there, if I stay with you, neighbour, any longer. So
+good-even,' she added, 'and pray don't say a word about where my Uncle
+Stolberg keeps the money, or else grandmother will think I have told
+you, and she will, perhaps, be angry with me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And who else did tell me but yourself, giddy one?' cried Heister
+Kamp, laughing. 'It was all guess with me, I promise you, till you had
+it all out. Ella and Jacques, and even little Margot, would not tell me
+a word about it; and I really began to think that Father St. Goar had
+mistaken what the little one had said, till you let the cat out of the
+bag. But you ought to make haste after Ella, so don't let me hinder
+you.' And she arose and went laughing into the house, whilst Meeta
+hastened after her cousin.</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot suppose that Meeta's reflections were very pleasant, for, as
+soon as she was left to herself, she felt how very imprudent she had
+been. She tried, however, to comfort herself with thinking that she had
+done no harm. 'For what can it signify,' she said to herself, 'if
+Heister does know the truth?' But she would take care not to mention at
+home what she had said to Madame Kamp; and in this Meeta found, to her
+cost, that she could keep a secret."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"There now!" cried Henry, as Emily was turning over a leaf, "papa was
+right; he told me who would betray the secret."</p>
+
+<p>"We all guessed," said Lucy; "but, Emily, do go on."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"The gipsy, or zingara (as they call such people in Switzerland and
+Germany), for such she was, had heard<!-- Page 272 --> every word which had passed
+between Madame Kamp and Meeta; and as the coast was quite clear, she
+put the remains of her broken victuals into her bag and skulked away,
+like a thief as she was; and nobody thought of her, nor saw her go.</p>
+
+<p>"Three or four days passed quietly after the evening in which Meeta and
+Ella went to the village; but on the fourth morning a message came from
+Madame Eversil to Monique, to tell her that she had just heard of a
+party of persons of great consequence who were coming from a distance
+to dine at her house; she sent to beg her to come down immediately to
+help in getting the dinner, and, if she had no objection, to bring Ella
+with her to wait on the ladies and at table.</p>
+
+<p>"Martin Stolberg had gone off early that morning to market, at the
+nearest town, three leagues off; Jacques had gone up on the higher
+pastures with the flocks; and when Monique and Ella went down to the
+pastor's, only Meeta and Margot were left at the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>"Ella dressed herself in her Sunday clothes, and carried the basket,
+which her grandmother had packed, down the hill. Monique had filled the
+basket with everything she thought might be useful&mdash;a bottle of cream,
+new-laid eggs, and fresh flowers. She bade Margot and Meeta be good
+girls, and keep close at home, when she parted from them, with a kiss
+to each; and the next minute she and Ella were going down the hill."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"I know what is coming next," cried Henry, as Emily turned over a leaf;
+"but do make haste, Emily."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Nothing could be more still and quiet than the cottage and all about
+it seemed to be when Meeta and Margot were left in it; for nothing was
+heard, when the children<!-- Page 273 --> were not talking, but the rushing of the
+waterfall, the humming of the bees, and the bleating of the distant
+flocks, and now and then the barking of a sheep-dog.</p>
+
+<p>"Every cottager on those hills keeps a dog. Wolf was the name of Martin
+Stolberg's dog: Wolf was of the true shepherd's breed, and a most
+careful watch he kept both day and night; but he had gone that morning
+with Jacques to the Alps above the waterfall.</p>
+
+<p>"Monique had told the two girls that they might have peas for dinner,
+so it was their first business to gather these peas, and bring them
+into the house. Margot then sat down to shell them, but she did not sit
+within the house, because of the litter she always made when she
+shelled peas; so she sat on a little plot of grass under a tall tree,
+on one side of the straight path which led from the garden-gate to the
+house-door. Meeta remained within, being busy in setting the kitchen in
+order before she sat down to her sewing; and thus they were both
+engaged, when Margot saw two people come up to the wicket. Margot was
+very shy, as children are who do not see many strangers, and without
+waiting to look again at these persons, she jumped up and hid herself
+behind the large trunk of a tree, peeping at the people who were
+walking on to the house. The first was a very tall large woman: she
+wore a petticoat, all patched with various colours, which hardly came
+down to her ankles; she had long black and gray hair, which hung loose
+over her shoulders; a man's hat, and a cloak thrown back from the
+front, and hanging in jags and tatters behind. She came up the path
+with long steps like a man's, and was followed by a young man, perhaps
+her son, who seemed, by his ragged dirty dress, to be fit to bear her
+company.</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta did not see these people till the large form of the woman
+darkened the gateway. She was placing some<!-- Page 274 --> cups on the shelf, and had
+her back to the door; when she turned, she not only saw the woman, but
+the man peeping over her shoulder, and though she was frightened she
+tried not to appear to be so.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mistress!' said the woman in a loud harsh voice, 'I am dying with
+thirst; can you give me anything to drink?' and as she said so, she
+walked in and sat herself on the first seat she could find. The man
+came in after her, and began looking curiously about him.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have nothing but water or milk to offer you,' answered Meeta, whose
+face was become as white as the cloth she held in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"'It does not matter,' said the woman; 'we have other business here
+besides satisfying our thirst; it was you, was it not, that told the
+hostess of the inn below that your uncle found a purse of gold and put
+it by? The purse is ours, we lost it near this place; we are come to
+claim it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' said the man, advancing a step or two towards Meeta; 'it is
+ours, and we must have it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'My uncle,' answered the trembling girl, 'is not at home; I cannot
+give you the purse.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You can't?' replied the man; 'we will see to that, young mistress; we
+knew your uncle was out when we came here, else we had not come; but we
+heard you say that you could tell, as well as he could, where he put
+the purse; if you do not do it willingly, we will make you.'</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta began to declare and profess most solemnly that she did not know
+where the keys were kept; indeed, she believed that her grandmother had
+taken them away in her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"The fierce man used such language as Meeta had never heard before; and
+the woman, laying her heavy hand on her shoulder, gave her a terrible
+shake.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tell us,' said she, 'where is the chest into which the<!-- Page 275 --> purse was
+put, or I will throw you on the ground and trample you under my feet.'</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta, in her excessive terror, uttered two or three fearful shrieks;
+and would, no doubt, have gone on shrieking, if the horrible people had
+not threatened to silence her voice for ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Margot, from behind her tree, heard those cries; and it is
+marvellous how the wits of a little child are sometimes sharpened, in
+cases of great trial; she thought, and thought truly, that she could do
+Meeta no good by running to her, but that she might help her by flying,
+as fast as her young feet could carry her, to the village. It was down
+hill all the way, and it was all straight running, if she could get
+unseen into the path on the other side of the hedge. So she threw
+herself on her hands and feet, and crept on all fours to where the
+hedge was thinnest, and, neither minding tears nor scratches, the hardy
+child came tumbling out on the path on the side of the village, jumping
+up on her feet; and no little lapwing could have flown the path more
+swiftly than she did."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Well done, Margot!" cried Henry; but Emily did not stop to answer him.</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Jacques, at the very time in which Margot had begun to run down the
+hill, was watching his flock on the side of a green and not very steep
+peak, scarcely a quarter of a mile, as a bird would fly, from the
+cottage, though, to drive his flock up to it, he had perhaps the
+greater part of a mile to go. On the top of this peak were a few dark
+pines which might be seen for miles. Jacques was seated quietly beneath
+the shade of one of these trees; his sheep were feeding about him, his
+dog apparently sleeping at his feet, and his eyes being occupied at one
+moment in taking a<!-- Page 276 --> careful glance at his flocks, and again fixed on a
+small old book which he held in his hand. Nothing could have been more
+quiet than was the mountain in that hour, nearly the hottest of the
+day; and how little did Jacques Stolberg imagine what was then going
+forward so near to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf had been supposed by his master to be asleep some minutes, when
+suddenly the creature uttered a short sleepy bark, and then, raising
+his head and pricking his ears, he remained a minute in the attitude of
+deep attention and anxious listening.</p>
+
+<p>"'What is it, Wolf?' said Jacques: 'what is it, boy?'</p>
+
+<p>"The dog drew his ears forward, every hair in his rough coat began to
+bristle itself; he sprang upon his four feet&mdash;he stood a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"'What does he see?' cried Jacques, getting up also, and grasping his
+crooked staff; 'eh, Wolf, what is it?'</p>
+
+<p>"The dog heeded not his master's voice. He had heard some sound as he
+lay with his ear to the ground; he had made out the quarter from which
+it came whilst he stood listening at Jacques' feet. He had judged that
+there was no time for delay; and the next moment he was bounding down
+the slope, straight as an arrow in its course. There Jacques saw him
+bounding and leaping over all impediments, reaching the bottom of a
+ravine, or dry watercourse, at the foot of a small hill, and again
+running with unabated speed up the opposite bank. Jacques thought he
+was going directly towards the cottage, for the young shepherd could
+see him all the way; but as if on second thoughts, the faithful
+creature left the cottage, when near to it, on the right, and passing
+over the brow of the hill, was soon out of sight in the direction of
+the village.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques knew not what to think, but he had little doubt that the dog
+was aware of something wrong; so the boy did not waver; his sheep were
+quiet, he was forced to<!-- Page 277 --> trust that they should not stray if he left
+them a little while, and he hesitated not to follow Wolf; though he
+could not so speedily overcome the difficulties of the way as the dog
+had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst Margot was running to the village, Wolf running after Margot
+(for such he afterwards proved was his purpose), and Jacques after
+Wolf, the fierce man had frightened poor Meeta out of all the small
+discretion which she ever had at command; and she told him that she had
+seen her grandmother put the purse in the great chest above stairs,
+that she did not know whether her uncle had taken the key, though,
+perchance, little Margot might know, as she slept with her grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>"She could not have done a more imprudent thing than mention Margot,
+for the woman immediately started, like one suddenly reminded of an
+oversight, at the mention of the child's name, and ran out instantly to
+seek her; at the same time the man drove Meeta before him up the ladder
+or stairs to where the great old chest which contained all the spare
+linen and other treasures of the family stood, and had stood almost as
+long as the house had been a house. There, without waiting the ceremony
+of looking for the key, he wrenched the chest open, pulling out every
+article which it contained, opening every bundle, and scattering
+everything on the floor, telling Meeta that, if he did not find the
+purse, she should either tell him where it was or suffer his severest
+vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>"So dreadful were the oaths he used that the poor girl was ready to
+faint, and the whitest linen in that chest was not so white as her
+cheeks and lips.</p>
+
+<p>"The woman, in the meantime, was seeking Margot, and, with the cunning
+of a gipsy, had traced the impression of the little feet to the corner
+of the garden, where a bit of cloth torn from the child's apron showed
+the place<!-- Page 278 --> where she had crept through the hedge. The gipsy could not
+creep through the opening as the child had done, but she could get over
+the hedge; and this she speedily did, and saw the little one before
+her, running with all her might. At the noise the woman made at
+springing from the hedge, Margot looked back, and set up a shriek, and
+that shriek was probably what first roused Wolf, who was lying with his
+ear on the earth.</p>
+
+<p>"Now there were four running all at once; Margot first, the gipsy after
+her and gaining fast upon her, Wolf springing over every impediment and
+gaining ground on the gipsy, and Jacques after the dog; and there was
+another party too coming to where Margot was. These last were coming
+from the pastor's house; and there was a lady seated on Madame
+Eversil's mule, on a Spanish saddle, and a little page in a rich livery
+was leading the mule. The pastor was walking immediately behind her
+with two gentlemen, her husband and her son. This lady was a countess,
+and she it was who had lost the purse a few weeks before, when she had
+come to see the cascade.</p>
+
+<p>"In going home that day the carriage had been overturned, and she had
+been so much hurt that she never thought of her purse until a few days
+afterwards, and then she supposed that it must have been lost where the
+carriage had been overturned. She caused great search to be made about
+that place; and it might have appeared to be quite by accident that
+Monsieur Eversil heard of that search; but there is nothing which
+happens in this world by accident. He knew the count and countess, and
+wrote to them to tell them that if they would come again to Hartsberg
+and take dinner in his humble house, he would give them good news of
+the purse.</p>
+
+<p>"When they came he told them of the honesty of the family of the
+Stolbergs; and when he had placed the purse<!-- Page 279 --> in the hands of the
+countess, and she had seen that nothing had been taken out of it, the
+pastor brought the venerable Monique and the fair Ella before the noble
+lady, and she was as much pleased with one as with the other. Her mind,
+therefore, was full of some plan for rewarding these poor honest
+people, and more especially when Monique told her how the least of the
+family had found the net and the golden fish and the moons.</p>
+
+<p>"'I must see that little Margot,' she said, 'and if she is like her
+sister, I shall love her vastly;' and then it was settled that the mule
+should be saddled, and that she and the gentlemen should go up the
+hill, whilst Madame Eversil remained to look after dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"This party were also on the hill, though lower down and hidden by the
+winding of the way, when Margot set out to run; but none of Margot's
+friends would have been in time to save her, if it had not been for
+Wolf. The wicked gipsy had resolved, if she could catch her, to stop
+her cries one way or another; to take her in her arms, hold her hand
+over her mouth, and to run with her to some place in the hills, not far
+off, some cave or hole known only to herself and her own people; and if
+the poor child had once been brought there, she would never have been
+suffered to go free again among her friends to tell where the zingari
+hole was.</p>
+
+<p>"When Margot knew that the woman was after her she increased her speed,
+but all in vain; the gipsy came on like the giant with the
+seven-leagued boots; she caught the terrified child in her arms, put a
+corner of her ragged cloak into her mouth, and, turning out of the path
+down into a hollow of the hills, hoped to be clear in a minute more.</p>
+
+<p>"But she was not to have that minute; Wolf was behind; he had flown
+with the swiftness of the wild hart, and when within leaping distance
+of the old woman, he<!-- Page 280 --> sprang upon her, and caused his fangs to meet in
+her leg. She uttered a cry, and tried to shake him off, but he only let
+go in one place to seize another, so she was forced to drop the
+struggling child in order to defend herself from the dog, for she
+expected next that he would fly at her throat. It was a fearful battle
+that, between the hardy gipsy and the enraged dog. The howlings and
+bayings of the furious animal were terrible, his fangs were red with
+the gipsy's blood; the woman, in her fear and pain, uttered the most
+horrid words, whilst little Margot shrieked with terror. Though the
+battle hardly lasted two minutes, it gave time for Jacques to come in
+sight of it on one side; the pastor, the count, and his son at another.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques did not understand the cause of this terrible war; he only saw
+that his dog was tearing the flesh of a woman; he did not at first see
+Margot, who had sunk in terror on the grass; therefore he called off
+his dog with a voice of authority, and the moment Wolf had loosed his
+hold of the woman, she fled from the place, and was never more seen in
+that country. But now all this party had met round Margot, looking all
+amazement at each other, whilst the little one sat sobbing on the
+ground, and Wolf stood looking anxiously at his young master, panting
+from his late exertions, and licking his bloody fangs, for there was no
+one to explain anything but the child.</p>
+
+<p>"'What is all this, Jacques?' asked the pastor.</p>
+
+<p>"'What is it, Margot?' said Jacques, taking his little sister in his
+arms, and soothing her as he well knew how to do; whilst she, clinging
+close to him, could not at first find one word to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques carried the child, and they all went back into the path, where
+the countess sat, anxiously waiting for them, on her mule.</p>
+
+<p>"All that Margot could say to be understood was:<!-- Page 281 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Run, run, to poor Meeta&mdash;they will kill her; the man will kill her,
+and Wolf is not there.'</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques repeated her words to the pastor.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have it, Jacques,' replied the good man; 'these vagrants are after
+the treasure; maybe there are others in the cottage; put the child
+down, my boy, leave her to walk by the lady, and let us all run
+forward.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Nay, nay,' said the lady, 'put the sweet child in my arms and hasten
+on.' So it was done, and the gentle lady took the little peasant before
+her, whilst she soothed her with her gentle tones and kindly words.</p>
+
+<p>"'And what,' said she, 'was that naughty woman going to do with you?
+and who was it that saved you?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Good Wolf came, madame,' said the child, 'and he saved me; but poor
+Meeta&mdash;they will kill poor Meeta!'</p>
+
+<p>"When Jacques and those who were with him had reached the cottage, they
+found the doors all open, but no one below; they went up the stairs,
+and there they found Meeta extended on the floor in a deep fainting
+fit. The chest stood open, and all its contents scattered about, but no
+man was there; he had probably taken alarm at the various cries and
+howlings which he had heard, and had made good his escape.</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta was lifted up and laid on the bed, and water being dashed in her
+face, she opened her eyes, but for a while could say nothing to be
+understood.</p>
+
+<p>"She was soon able to arise, and to come down the stairs with the arm
+of the pastor, though her head was still dizzy and she trembled all
+over. In the kitchen they found the lady and little Margot; and it was
+then that, between Meeta and Margot, they were able to make out what
+had happened. Then it was that everyone patted the head of Wolf and
+smiled upon him, calling him<!-- Page 282 --> 'Good dog'; and Margot kissed him, and he
+wagged his tail, and went about to be caressed.</p>
+
+<p>"'And so,' said the countess to the little one, 'it was you, my pretty
+child, who found the silken net with the golden fish and pretty moons;
+and it was through my carelessness in losing it that all this mischief
+of to-day is come. I cannot bear to think of what might have happened
+to you, poor baby;' and the lady stooped and kissed the child, and it
+was seen that she had tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'All is now well, lady, through the care of <a name="tn_pg_318"></a><!-- TN: Single quote
+added after "Providence,"-->Providence,' said the pastor, 'and we will
+rejoice together, and I trust be grateful to Him from whom all mercies
+flow; for if we had lost our little Margot, it would have been a
+thousandfold worse than the loss of the purse. But one thing puzzles
+me: how did these vagrants discover that this treasure had been found?
+Who could have told it? I thought it had been known only to this family
+and me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am the guilty person,' said Meeta, coming forward; 'I will not
+throw suspicion on others by hiding my fault;' and she then repeated
+her conversation with Heister Kamp, but she could give no account of
+how the secret had passed on to the gipsies.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am sure,' said the pastor, 'that Heister would be above having to
+do with such people; but she is a woman of excessive curiosity, and
+such people are dangerous to others, as well as injurious to
+themselves.'</p>
+
+<p>"'A secret, my good girl,' said the countess, smiling, 'may be compared
+to a bird in a cage; whilst shut up within our own breasts, it is safe;
+but when we open the door, either of the cage or of the heart, to let
+the inmate out, we can never tell whither it may fly; but you have
+owned the truth, and you have suffered severely&mdash;let all be
+forgotten.'<!-- Page 283 --></p>
+
+<p>"'I have a proposal to make,' said the pastor; 'we will go back and
+dine, and in the evening we will all come up and sup together; the good
+man shall find us feasting when he comes home.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Agreed,' cried the count and countess; 'you must set the house in
+order, and we will send up the entertainment,' she added, speaking to
+Meeta and Jacques; 'and we will be with you in a few hours. Let us then
+see this little fair one in all the bravery of her Sunday attire.'</p>
+
+<p>"And all was done as the lady and pastor wished. Meeta set everything
+in proper order. Jacques brought his flocks from the pasture, and gave
+his best help. All the Sunday dresses were put on, and Margot was
+standing at the wicket in her very best apron, when the mule and the
+lady appeared again, followed by the pastor and Monique, Ella, and
+people without number, bearing the things needful for such a supper as
+had not often been enjoyed under that roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a happy meeting was that! How delighted was the lady with
+Margot, and what a beautiful little enamelled box for containing
+sweetmeats did she give her from her pocket! But there were no
+sweetmeats in it; there were what Margot called golden fish.</p>
+
+<p>"Wolf had a glorious evening; he went about again to be patted, and he
+had as much to eat, for once in his life, as he could conveniently
+swallow.</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta was forgiven by everyone, because she had not hidden her fault;
+and the whole party were just sitting down to supper before the porch
+when Martin Stolberg came home.</p>
+
+<p>"Who shall say how astonished he was, or how grateful when the countess
+placed in his hand all the gold which had been found in the purse?&mdash;the
+count adding, that in a few days he might look for a fine young cow and
+two<!-- Page 284 --> sheep from his own farm, in the vicinity of his castle; and also
+saying, at the same time, that he and his lady should have great
+pleasure in doing anything for him and his family at any time when they
+might apply to them.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady did not overlook Meeta and Ella; she assured them that she
+would remember them when the cow was brought; and truly there was an
+ample store of linen and flowered aprons, and kerchiefs and caps of
+fine linen, in packets directed to each. But the little one, like
+Benjamin, had more than her share even of these presents also; and she
+had well deserved them, for she had shared her golden fish with her
+brother, sister, and cousin.</p>
+
+<p>"The young count took upon himself to make presents to Jacques; he sent
+him a strong set of gardener's and carpenter's tools, and a Sunday suit
+of better clothes than Jacques had ever worn before.</p>
+
+<p>"Martin put his gold into the pastor's hands till he should require it,
+being in no mind to keep much treasure in his house.</p>
+
+<p>"It is only necessary to add, that the count took proper steps for
+finding the wicked gipsy and her son, but they had left the country and
+could not be found; neither were they ever again seen by the peasants
+of the Hartsberg."</p>
+
+<hr style="visibility: hidden; margin: .4em;">
+
+<p>"Well," said Henry, when Emily had finished reading, "that is a
+beautiful book: it made me so hot when they were all running, my feet
+felt as if they would run too&mdash;they quite shook&mdash;I could not keep them
+quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"And how nicely you kept papa's secret!" said Mrs. Fairchild; "you
+showed that you were not much more clever than Meeta."</p>
+
+<p>"But then, mamma," replied Henry, "papa's secret was not of so much
+consequence as Meeta's was."<!-- Page 285 --></p>
+
+<p>"Now, mamma," said Emily, "when do you think the day will come for
+Henry's story?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Papa will tell us when he can spare an evening."</p>
+
+<p>"My book, I am certain," said Henry, "will be prettier than yours,
+Emily."</p>
+
+<p>"Why must it be prettier?" asked his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Because Lucy said it is all about boys; I like boys' stories&mdash;there
+are so few books about boys."</p>
+
+<p>"But I think it is a grave story," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," answered Henry, "if it be about boys."</p>
+
+<a name="image_285"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Meeta offered to carry the honey.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_269_text">Page 269</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/285.png" border="0" width="154" height="380" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 286 -->
+<h3><a name="Guests_at_Mr_Fairchilds" id="Guests_at_Mr_Fairchilds"></a>Guests at Mr. Fairchild's</h3>
+
+<a name="image_286"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/286.png" border="0" width="581" height="341" ALT="&quot;She does not know that I made a slit in my frock&quot;"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> night after Emily's story had been read, there was a violent
+thunderstorm and rain, which continued more or less till daybreak; it
+was fine again after sunrise.</p>
+
+<p>At breakfast a note was brought by a boy from Mrs. Goodriche: these
+were the words of it:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">"Dear Mr. Fairchild,</span></p>
+
+<p>"Since that happy day we spent together, we have been in what
+Sukey calls a peck of troubles; and, to crown all, last night one
+of our old chimneys was struck with lightning: part of it fell
+immediately, but I am thankful to be able to say, that by the care
+of Providence no one was hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"We are all got into a corner out of the reach of it, should it
+fall, though it might yet stand for years as it is. I have other
+things to talk to you about, and was thinking of coming over to
+you if this accident had not happened. Now I must ask you to come
+to me; I have sent for<!-- Page 287 --> workmen to consult about this chimney, but
+I shall have more confidence if you are here."</p></div>
+
+<p>"I must be off immediately after breakfast," said Mr. Fairchild; and he
+did set off, in his little carriage, as soon as he had set Henry to
+work.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild saw the top of the ragged chimney over the trees in the
+garden. As soon as he came up to the gate, he himself put up the horse
+and carriage, for he could see no man about, and then went in at the
+back door, expecting to find Mrs. Goodriche at that end of the house
+farthest from the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>Sukey was the first person he saw.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir," she said, "I am so glad you are come! We shall be all right
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," said Mr. Fairchild, jestingly, "I hope you don't expect <i>me</i> to
+repair the chimney."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that Mr. Fairchild?" cried the cheerful voice of Mrs. Goodriche;
+and the next minute she came out of her parlour, followed by a tall
+round-faced girl of about twelve years of age, in very deep mourning.</p>
+
+<p>"My niece, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but tell me, have you
+breakfasted?" And when she heard that he had; "Come with me, kind
+friend," she said, "we will first look at the ruin, and then I have
+other things to talk to you, and to consult you about. So, Bessy, do
+you stay behind; you are not to make one in our consultations."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche and Mr. Fairchild then walked into the garden; and we
+will tell, in as few words as possible, what they talked about.</p>
+
+<p>First they spoke of the chimney, and Mr. Fairchild said that he could
+give no opinion about it till the owner of the house and the masons
+came, and they were expected every hour.<!-- Page 288 --></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche said that she had lived in that house nearly twenty
+years, and should be sorry to leave it; but that she and Sukey, on
+windy nights, often felt that they should be glad to be out of it.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet," said Mr. Fairchild, "it may stand long after you and I;
+still it is a wide, dull place for two persons, and very solitary."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could get a house your way," replied Mrs. Goodriche; "though
+now we shall be more than myself and Sukey; and this brings me to the
+subject I wanted to consult you about before the business of the
+chimney."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild knew that Mrs. Goodriche had had one only brother, who
+had gone abroad, when young, as a merchant. He had married, and had one
+son; this son had also married, and Bessy was the only child of this
+son. Mrs. Goodriche's brother had died years ago, as had also his son's
+wife; at which time her nephew had sent his daughter home and placed
+her in a school in some seaport in the south of England, where she had,
+it seems, learned little or nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Within the last month, Mrs. Goodriche had heard of the death of her
+nephew, and that she was left as guardian of his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I had an acquaintance going to Plymouth only last week," she added;
+"and I got him to take charge of Bessy and bring her here. She has been
+with me only a few days, and is very glad to leave school, which does
+not speak well for her governess; or if not for her governess, for
+herself. As to what she is, I can as yet say little," added the old
+lady, "except that she seems to be affectionate and good-tempered; but
+she is also idle, wasteful, and ignorant in the extreme. She can't read
+even English easily enough to amuse herself with any book; and as to
+sewing, she is ready at a sampler, but could not put the<!-- Page 289 --> simplest
+article of clothing together. With regard to any knowledge of the
+Bible, I much doubt if she can tell if the tower of Babel was built
+before or after the Flood. She is a determined gossip and a great
+talker; but Sukey, to whom she is always chattering, assures me that
+she has never heard her say anything bad beyond nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to keep her with you?" asked Mr. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," said Mrs. Goodriche; "I think it my duty, and I am far from
+disliking the poor thing. She has had so much schooling, and gained so
+little by it, that if I could get a good writing and maybe a ciphering
+master to attend her, I think I could do the rest myself, and impart to
+her some of the old-fashioned notions of industry, and neatness, and
+management. But this is a subject I wanted to consult you and Mrs.
+Fairchild about, for I so much like your plans with your own dear
+children."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild had asked her husband to invite Mrs. Goodriche to their
+house until the chimney should be repaired; but Mr. Fairchild was
+doubtful whether this message should be delivered, when he heard that
+Miss Bessy was to remain with her great-aunt. After a little thought,
+however, he gave the message, stating his difficulty at the same time.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mrs. Goodriche, "I hardly know what to say: I should like
+to come to you, and I should like Bessy to see your children and your
+family plans; but as I know so little of her, I know not whether it
+would be right to let her mix with your children. You shall think the
+matter over, my good friend, and consult your wife; and be sure,
+whichever way the thing is settled, I shall not be offended."</p>
+
+<p>When the men came to look at the chimney, it was found that the
+mischief might be remedied by a few days'<!-- Page 290 --> work, so far as to make the
+chimney safe; but it was also seen that the house wanted many repairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that I must give notice to quit this
+coming Midsummer. I shall still have half a year to look about me. The
+fright last night seems to have been sent to oblige me to settle my
+plans. I feel that this place is not exactly what will suit my
+niece&mdash;young people must have company; and if they are not where they
+can find their equals, they will fly to their inferiors. Bessy will
+make intimacies with every cottager in the wood, and I shall not be
+able to help it."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you are right, Mrs. Goodriche," replied Mr. Fairchild; "and
+I wish we could find a house for you in our village."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild looked very anxiously at Bessy when he saw her again.
+There was a great appearance of good temper and kindness about her
+which pleased him. She had a round rosy face and laughing eyes; but her
+clothes, although quite new, were already out of place, and falling
+from one shoulder. She talked incessantly, whether heeded or not, and
+seldom said anything to the purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were to begin to find fault with her," said Mrs. Goodriche to Mr.
+Fairchild, "I could never have done: not that she is constantly
+committing heavy offences, but she never does anything in the right
+way. What shall I do with her, my good friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk over the affair at home," replied Mr. Fairchild; "and you
+shall see me again to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>The next day accordingly brought Mr. Fairchild, and with him Mrs.
+Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my good madam," said he, "we have settled it; we shall be glad
+to see you and Miss Bessy. We have spoken to Lucy and Emily; and they
+have promised to attend to all our wishes, and to inform us if
+anything<!-- Page 291 --> should be said or done which they think we should not
+approve. So when shall I fetch you?&mdash;say to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, then," replied Mrs. Goodriche; "to-morrow evening, by which
+time I shall have settled things at home, and provided a person to be
+with Sukey."</p>
+
+<p>After an early dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild went home.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Mrs. Fairchild had some conversation with her little
+girls.</p>
+
+<p>"You have never, my dears," she said, "been in a house for any time
+with a young person whose character we do not know; but it seems that
+it is required of us now to receive such a one. Mrs. Goodriche is an
+old and very dear friend; she is in trouble, and she has some hopes
+that her niece may be benefited by being for a while in an orderly
+family. You and Emily may be some help to her; but if you are led by
+her, or are unkind to her, or show that you think yourselves better
+than she is, you may not only be hurt yourselves, but very much hurt
+her instead of doing her good."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma," replied Lucy, "I hope that we shall not do that: pray tell
+us every day exactly what to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Be assured that I will, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we
+will not fear. You will not dislike Bessy&mdash;she is a good-tempered,
+merry girl; but you must not let her be alone with Henry: her very good
+humour may make her a dangerous companion to him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild went, after dinner, to fetch Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy;
+and just before tea Henry came in to say the carriage was coming. He
+ran out again as fast as he could to set the gate open.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild and the little girls met their visitors at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Bessy jumped out of the carriage, and without waiting<!-- Page 292 --> for the names to
+be spoken, gave her hands to Lucy and Emily. She kissed Lucy, and would
+have kissed Emily if she had not got behind Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"And that was Henry," she said, "who stood at the gate: he is a nice
+little fellow! I know all the names, and John's and Betty's too. Sukey
+has told me about Betty&mdash;just such another as herself. What a pretty
+place this is!&mdash;not like aunt's old barn of a house. I feel at home
+here already."</p>
+
+<p>Whilst the young lady was prattling in this manner, Mrs. Fairchild was
+showing Mrs. Goodriche to her sleeping-room. She had put up a little
+couch-bed in the corner of the same room for Bessy, as she had no other
+room to give; and this had been settled between the ladies the day
+before. Mrs. Goodriche had told her niece to follow her upstairs, which
+Miss Bessy might perchance have done, after a while, had not Betty
+appeared coming from the kitchen to carry up the luggage.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Betty," said Miss Bessy. "How do you do, Betty? Sukey told me
+to remember her to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, thank you, Miss," said Betty, with a low curtsey, as she
+bustled by with a bandbox.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche now appeared, and speaking to her niece from the
+stair-head said:</p>
+
+<p>"Come up, Bessy, and put yourself to rights before tea."</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't I do, Miss Lucy?" said Bessy; "aunty is so particular; she does
+not know that I made a monstrous slit in my frock as I got into the
+carriage. I pinned it up, however, as well as I could, though I was
+forced to take the pins out of my dress for it. I shall run it up
+to-morrow, for, if she sees it, poor I will be forced to darn it thread
+by thread; so do lend me a pin or two, dear girls."<!-- Page 293 --></p>
+
+<p>Betty now appeared again with a message to the young lady to go
+upstairs to her aunt, and then Bessy hurried off so rapidly, taking two
+steps at a time, that Lucy and Emily expected she would have a second
+slit in her dress to mend the next day. She did not appear again till
+told that tea was ready, when she came down after her aunt. Mrs.
+Goodriche looked all kind and calm as usual; she seemed quite pleased
+to find herself with her friends, though no doubt she was a little
+uneasy lest her niece should disgrace herself. As Bessy passed Lucy to
+go to a seat near Mrs. Fairchild, she whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt has found out the slit, and poor I will be set to the darning
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>The whole party were seated before Henry came in; he had been seeing
+John put up the carriage. John had been busy, and Henry trying to
+help&mdash;so Henry was not like the boy who helped his brother to do
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Master Henry," said Miss Bessy, calling over to the other end of
+the table, "so you speak to my aunt, and say you are glad she is come,
+and you don't speak to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Because, ma'am&mdash;&mdash;" Henry began.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" cried Miss Bessy, "don't call me ma'am;" and she burst into a
+giggle, which made Henry open his eyes and look very hard at her.</p>
+
+<p>This made her laugh the more; and, as she had her teacup in her hand,
+she spilt a quantity of tea on the unfortunate black frock.</p>
+
+<p>"Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche gently, "you had better set down your cup
+and wipe your frock, or I shall have to ask Mrs. Fairchild to lend you
+one of Henry's pinafores."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not hurt, aunt; it will all come out. I threw a cup of milk over
+it the other day, and no one could see<!-- Page 294 --> the mark unless I stood quite
+opposite them, and they looked quite hard at it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Miss Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche, "when you wear that
+frock, or any other of your frocks which people should not look hard
+at, I would advise you to keep in the background."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt is making sport of me, Mrs. Fairchild," said Bessy, with another
+giggle; "do you know what she means? She is advising me, in her cunning
+way, always to keep in the background of company."</p>
+
+<p>"Always?" said Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "why, have you not any dresses
+which would bear close inspection?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not many, I fear!" replied Miss Bessy; "I was always uncommon unlucky
+in tearing my clothes and getting them stained."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we say careless," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but it is no laughing
+matter, niece. Have you never heard the old saying, 'Wilful waste makes
+woful want'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," replied the niece, with something like a sigh, "I can't
+help it&mdash;I never could;" but before Mrs. Goodriche could say another
+word, she cried out, "You have got a magpie&mdash;have you not, Henry?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could you know that?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Sukey told me," she answered, "and Mary Lampet told her. Mary was with
+the person who gave you the magpie, when she sent it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Mary Lampet?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"One of Bessy's new friends," said Mrs. Goodriche; "a woman who
+sometimes comes for a day's work to my house."</p>
+
+<p>"And such a curious old body," said Miss Bessy; "she wears a blue
+striped petticoat, and she generally has a pipe in her mouth."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind her, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche:<!-- Page 295 --> "Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild and I have a good deal to say to each other; we do not often
+meet, and we wish to have our share of talking; it is not for one
+person, and that one of the youngest, to have all the talk to herself."</p>
+
+<p>Instead of noticing this remark, Miss Bessy looked round the table.</p>
+
+<p>"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," she said; "aunt, you are
+wrong, I am not one of the youngest; there are three older, and three
+younger than me. I am Jack in the middle; and therefore I have a right
+to talk to the old people, and to the young ones too; and therefore I
+may talk most."</p>
+
+<p>Henry was being gradually worked up by Miss Bessy to think that he
+might be as free as she was; and he began with, "Well now, is not that
+very odd?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "did not you hear Mrs. Goodriche
+say she thought that young people should not have all the talk to
+themselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't scold him," said Bessy; "he meant no harm."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche looked distressed; her niece saw it, and was quiet for
+at least a minute or two, and then she began to talk again as if
+nothing had happened.</p>
+
+<p>When tea was over, and everybody risen from the table, before it was
+settled what was to be done next, Henry walked out through the glass
+doors into the garden&mdash;he was going to feed Mag.</p>
+
+<p>Bessy saw him, and called after him; he did not answer her&mdash;perhaps he
+did not hear her. She called again&mdash;he was farther off, and did not
+turn.</p>
+
+<p>"You little rogue!" she cried out; "but I will pay you;" and <a name="page_295_text"></a>off she
+ran after him.</p>
+
+<p>He heard her step and her voice as she called him; he took to his heels
+through the shrubbery, and to the gate<!-- Page 296 --> of the fold-yard&mdash;into the
+yard&mdash;round the barn&mdash;amongst the hay-ricks&mdash;across a new-mown field,
+and over a five-barred gate, using all his speed, and yet gaining no
+ground upon her; so back again then he came to where he knew John would
+be, and making up to him, he got so behind him that he put him between
+Bessy and himself.</p>
+
+<p>There the three were in the fold-yard, Bessy trying to catch Henry, who
+was dodging about round John, when Mr. Fairchild, who had followed
+Bessy, came up.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Goodriche," he said, "let me lead you to your aunt, she is asking
+for you. My dear young lady," he added, drawing her a little aside,
+"let me venture to point out to you, as a father, that it is not
+becoming in a girl of your years to be romping with a servant man."</p>
+
+<p>"I was after Henry, sir!" she replied: "it was after him I was going,
+sir, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say you set off to run after Henry, my dear young lady," he
+replied; "but when I first saw you, you were pushing John about, first
+on one side and then on the other, in a way I should call romping; and
+am I not right when I say that I think, even now, you have not spoken
+one word to him, and that you only guess he is my servant John? What
+would you think, Miss Goodriche, if you were to see my daughter Lucy
+suddenly run and do the same by yonder labourer in that meadow?&mdash;and
+yet she may know him quite as well, if not better, than you do John."</p>
+
+<p>"La! Mr. Fairchild," cried Miss Bessy, laughing, "how you do put
+things! I never thought what I was doing. It must have looked uncommon
+strange, but I hope I shan't do it again."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you had better go in with me to your aunt, and if she approves,
+you shall help Lucy and Emily in their little gardens."<!-- Page 297 --><!-- Page 298 --><!-- Page 299 --></p>
+
+<a name="image_297"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/297.png" border="0"
+ width="457" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead
+leaves.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_299a_text">Page 299</a>.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche were only waiting for Miss Bessy to
+follow the little girls into the garden; and there, whilst they worked
+and chatted together, Lucy and Emily and Miss Goodriche were employed
+in <a name="page_299a_text"></a>cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead leaves from the
+ground.</p>
+
+<a name="image_299"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Off she ran after him.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_295_text">Page 295</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/299.png" border="0" width="250" height="375" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 300 -->
+<h3><a name="More_about_Bessy" id="More_about_Bessy"></a>More about Bessy</h3>
+
+<a name="image_300"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/300.png" border="0" width="571" height="333" ALT="She saw Bessy amongst some gooseberry bushes"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> may be supposed that Mrs. Goodriche gave some good advice to her
+niece whilst they were in their room, for Miss Bessy came down looking
+rather sulky, and said very little at breakfast; only that she
+attempted several times to hold discourse with Lucy in whispers, for
+which they were quietly called to order by Lucy's father.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild said:</p>
+
+<p>"You must not whisper at table, my dears, for we are met to make
+ourselves agreeable either by talking or attentive listening."</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast Mrs. Fairchild said:</p>
+
+<p>"As we hope your visit, Mrs. Goodriche, will be a long one, we will, if
+you please, go on with our plans. I shall go into my school-room with
+my little girls, and leave you and Bessy to yourselves; you will see us
+again about twelve o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Very right," replied Mrs. Goodriche, with a smile;<!-- Page 301 --> "and I trust that
+Bessy and I shall be as busy as you will be."</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Goodriche went to her room, and when she came back with two
+large bags and several books, there was no Miss Bessy to be found.</p>
+
+<p>She, however, was, for an old person, very active, with all her senses
+about her, and off she trotted after her niece, finding her, after some
+trouble, chattering to Mag, who was hung in a cage before the kitchen
+window. She brought her into the parlour, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, niece, let us follow a good example, and make the best use of
+these quiet morning hours."</p>
+
+<p>Bessy muttered something which Mrs. Goodriche did not choose to hear,
+but when she got into the parlour, she threw herself back on the sofa
+as if she were dying of fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche handed a Bible to her, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"We will begin the morning with our best book: you shall read a chapter
+whilst I go on with my work; come, find your place&mdash;where did we leave
+off?"</p>
+
+<p>Bessy opened the Bible, fetching at the same time a deep sigh, and,
+after some minutes, began to read.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche could have sighed too, but she did not.</p>
+
+<p>Bessy was a most careless reader; she hated all books; indeed, her aunt
+thought that, from never having been exercised in anything but learning
+columns of spelling, she had hardly the power of putting any sense, in
+her own mind, to the simplest story-book which could be put into her
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>It was heavy work to sit and hear her blunder through a chapter; but,
+when that was finished, the kind aunt tried at some little explanation;
+after which she set her to write in a copy-book. Mrs. Goodriche
+dictated what she was to write: it was generally something of what she
+had herself<!-- Page 302 --> said about the chapter; but what with blots, and bad
+spelling, and crooked lines, poor Bessy's book was not fit to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>This exercise filled up nearly an hour, and a most heavy hour it was:
+and then Mrs. Goodriche produced a story-book&mdash;one lent to her by Mrs.
+Fairchild&mdash;which, being rather of a large size, did not quite appear to
+be only fit for children; what this book was I do not know.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my dear," she said, "you will have great pleasure in reading this
+book to me, I am sure; but before we begin I must fetch another bit of
+work: I have done what I brought down."</p>
+
+<p>"La!" said Miss Bessy, "how fond you are of sewing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you remember, Bessy," replied Mrs. Goodriche, "that I never
+attend to anything you say when you begin with 'la'!"</p>
+
+<p>"We always said it at school," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"May be so," replied Mrs. Goodriche, "and you may say it here, if you
+please; but, as I tell you, I shall never attend to anything you say
+when you put in any words of that kind."</p>
+
+<p>"La!" cried Miss Bessy again, really not knowing that she was saying
+the word.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche went up for her work, and when she returned, as she
+might have expected, her bird was flown; and when she looked for her,
+she saw her amongst some gooseberry bushes, feeding herself as fast as
+she could. When she got her into the parlour again, "Bessy," she said,
+"did you ever read the story of Dame Trot and her Cat?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," answered Bessy.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," added Mrs. Goodriche, "I am thinking that I am very like Dame
+Trot; she never left her house but she found her cat at some prank when
+she returned, and I<!-- Page 303 --><!-- Page 304 --><!-- Page 305 --> never leave the room but I find you off and at
+some trick or another when I come back; but now for our book."</p>
+
+<p>Bessy, before she took her book, rubbed her hands down the sides of her
+frock to clean them from any soil they might have got from the
+gooseberries. It was a new black cotton, with small white spots, and
+was none the better for having been made a hand-towel.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche saw this neat trick, but she felt that if she found
+fault with everything amiss in her niece, she should have nothing else
+to do; so she let that pass.</p>
+
+<p>Bessy, at last, opened the book and began to read.</p>
+
+<p>The first story began with the account of a lady and gentleman who had
+one son and a daughter, of whom they were vastly fond, and whom they
+indulged in everything they could desire, which (as the writer sagely
+hinted) they had cause to repent before many years had passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Whilst their children were little, there was nothing in the shape of
+toys which were not got for them; dolls, whips, tops, carts, and all
+other sorts of playthings, were heaped up in confusion in their
+play-room; but they were not content with wooden toys&mdash;they had no
+delight in those but to break them in pieces. They were ever greedy
+after nice things to eat, and when they got them, made themselves often
+sick by eating too much of them. Once Master Tommy actually ate up&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>In this place Bessy stopped to turn over a leaf with her thumb, and
+then went on, first repeating the last words of the first page.</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;Master Tommy actually ate up the real moon out of the sky."</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_305a_text"></a><a name="tn_pg_341"></a><!--TN: Original's second "what"
+isn't capitalized-->"What! What!" cried Mrs. Goodriche; "ate the moon? Are you sure,
+Bessy?"</p>
+
+<a name="image_303"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/303.png" border="0"
+ width="460" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>'What! What!' cried Mrs. Goodriche.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_305a_text">Page 305</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is here," replied Bessy; "the real moon out of the sky&mdash;these
+are the very words."<!-- Page 306 --></p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Goodriche; "dear child, you are reading nonsense;
+don't you perceive it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied Bessy, gaping; "I was not attending&mdash;what is
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know what you have been reading?" asked Mrs. Goodriche.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure I do," answered Bessy, "or how could I have told the words
+right?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the sense?" asked Mrs. Goodriche.</p>
+
+<p>"I was not happening," replied Bessy, "just to be thinking about that.
+I was thinking just then, aunt, of the horrid fright Sukey was in when
+the bricks came rolling down, and how she did scream."</p>
+
+<p>"Give me the book," said Mrs. Goodriche, almost at the end of her
+patience; "we will read no more to-day; go up and fetch that
+unfortunate bombazine frock, it must be darned; you have no other here,
+or indeed made, but that you have on."</p>
+
+<p>Away ran Bessy, glad to be moving; and when Mrs. Goodriche had looked
+at the book, she found that Bessy had turned over two leaves,&mdash;that
+Tommy had once eaten a whole pound-cake in a very short time, and that
+he had cried the whole of the evening for the real moon out of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>It might have been thought, from the time that she was absent, that
+Bessy had gone to the top of the barn to fetch her frock; the truth is,
+that it was some time before she could find it; she had thrown it on
+the drawers when she had taken it off, and it had slipped down behind
+them, to use an expression of her own. It was all covered over with
+dust, and the trimming crumpled past recovery; but she gave it a good
+shaking, and down she came, not in the least troubled at the accident.
+When she got into the parlour, she found Lucy and Emily seated each
+with<!-- Page 307 --> her small task of needlework; their other lessons were finished;
+and Mrs. Fairchild, too, appeared with her work.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche had desired to hear the story in Emily's new book, and
+they were each to read four pages at once, then to pass the book; and
+they had settled to begin with the eldest.</p>
+
+<p>"I always think," said Lucy, "that when everything is done but our
+work, it is so comfortable; and when there is to be reading, I work so
+fast."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little delay whilst Bessy was set to darn, and then Mrs.
+Goodriche read her four pages, and read them very pleasantly. The book
+was next given to Mrs. Fairchild, who passed it to Bessy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where does it begin?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"At the top of the ninth page, Bessy," said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>There was another pause; and then Bessy started much like a person
+running a race, reading as fast as she could, till, like the same
+runner, when he comes to a stumbling-stone, she broke down over the
+first hard word, which happened to be at the end of the second
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild gently set her right, and she went on a little till she
+came to another word, which she miscalled, so that Mrs. Goodriche, who
+had not heard the story before, could not understand what she was
+reading about.</p>
+
+<p>Emily looked down, and became quite red.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy looked up full of wonder, and half inclined to smile; but a gentle
+look from her mother reminded her what civility and kindness required
+of her. Her mother's look seemed to say, "You ought to pity and not to
+laugh at one who has not been so well taught as yourself;" and she
+instantly looked down, and seemed to give her whole thoughts to her
+work.</p>
+
+<p>"Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche, "you had best pass the<!-- Page 308 --> book to Lucy; I
+am sure that you will try to improve yourself against the next time you
+are asked to read aloud in company."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never make much of reading, aunt," she answered carelessly; "I
+hate it so."</p>
+
+<p>The reading then went on till one o'clock, and there was enough of the
+story left for another day. The work was then put up, and the children
+were at liberty till dinner-time; but the day was very hot, so there
+could be no walk till the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Mrs. Goodriche, "before we part, you shall see something
+out of this bag; it is full of pieces from my old great store-chest;
+there are three pieces of old brocade silk," and she spread them out on
+the table. They all looked as if they had been short sleeves; one was
+green, with purple and gold flowers as large as roses; another was
+pink, what is called <i>clouded</i> with blue, green, and violet: and the
+third was dove-colour, with running stripes of satin. "Now," she said,
+"each of you, my little girls, shall have one of these pieces, and you
+shall make what you please of it; and when you have made the best you
+can of the silk, you shall show your work to me, and I shall see who is
+worthy of more pieces, for I have more in this bag."</p>
+
+<p>"If any of you, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "should want little
+bits of ribbon or lining to help out what you wish to make, I shall
+gladly supply them; indeed," she added, "I may as well give what may be
+wanted now;" and having fetched a bag of odds and ends, she gave out
+some bits of coloured ribbon to suit the silks, with sewing silks and
+linings, such as her bag would afford, placing her gifts in equal
+portions on the three pieces of silk.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said Mrs. Goodriche, "who is to choose first?"<!-- Page 309 --></p>
+
+<p>"Lucy and Emily," said Bessy; and Lucy wished Bessy to choose first.
+After a little while this matter was settled; Emily had the green with
+the golden flowers, Lucy the clouded pink, and Bessy the striped; but
+before they took them from the table, Mrs. Goodriche told them that
+they were only to have them on these conditions&mdash;that they were not to
+consult each other about the use they were to make of them; nor to get
+anybody to help in cutting them out, and not to tell what they were
+doing till they brought what they had made to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Lucy, you must not ask me," said Emily; "I will not ask you."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall make no inquiries," said Mrs. Fairchild; "you may work at your
+things in any of your play hours excepting the walking time. Emily may
+work in my room, and Lucy in her own, because you must not be together;
+and if I come into my room, I shall not look at what you are doing,
+Emily."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily took up their bits, all joy and delight, and full of
+thought; but Bessy was not so well pleased; she hated work as much as
+reading, and perhaps from the same reason, that she had neither got
+over the drudgery of work nor of reading. The beginning of all learning
+is dry, and stupid, and painful; but many things are delightful, when
+we can do them easily, which are most disagreeable when we first begin
+them.</p>
+
+<p>After this day, things passed on till the end of the week much as we
+have said. Lucy and Emily were always very busy in their different
+places, from dinner to tea-time. Henry was often, at those times, with
+John; and where Miss Bessy was Mrs. Goodriche did not know, because she
+had proposed to go and work in Henry's arbour. Her aunt could not
+follow her everywhere, so she only made herself sure that she did not
+go beyond the garden, and<!-- Page 310 --> she did not ask whether she spent half her
+time in the kitchen, for she was not afraid that Betty would hurt her.</p>
+
+<p>"When am I to see the pieces of work?" said Mrs. Goodriche on the
+Saturday morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Before tea, ma'am," replied Lucy; "Emily and I are ready, but we don't
+know whether Bessy is&mdash;we can wait if she is not."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am ready," answered Bessy; "my silk is done."</p>
+
+<p>The tea-things were on the table when Emily came in first with an open
+basket&mdash;whatever was in it was hidden by a piece of white paper. Lucy
+followed with a neat little parcel, carefully rolled up; and Bessy
+followed, with a hand in one of her pockets, and a smile on her face,
+though she looked red and rather confused.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall look at the little market-woman with her basket first," said
+Mrs. Goodriche; and Emily went up to her with a sweet pleasant smile,
+as if she felt sure that she had some very pretty things to show. She
+took up the white paper, and discovered three pin-cushions, very nicely
+made: they were so contrived that there was a gold and purple flower in
+the centre of each pin-cushion on both sides: the cushions were square,
+well stuffed, and pinched in the middle of each side; they had a tassel
+at every corner, made of the odd bits of silk roved, and to each of
+them was a long bit of ribbon. Emily's face flushed like a rosebud when
+she laid them on the table. "Very, very good," said Mrs. Goodriche;
+"and you did them all yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Emily. "I made the insides first, and stuffed them
+with bran, before I put the silk on."</p>
+
+<p>"Now for Lucy," said Mrs. Goodriche; and Lucy, opening her parcel,
+showed an old-fashioned housewife with many pockets: she had managed
+her silk so, that<!-- Page 311 --> the clouds upon it formed borders for the outside
+and each pocket; she had overcast a piece of flannel for the needles,
+and put a card under that part of the housewife; she had lined it to
+make it strong, and had put some ribbon to tie it with, and had made a
+case for it of printed calico, and a button and a button-hole.</p>
+
+<p>"Very, very good, too," said Mrs. Goodriche; "let it be placed by the
+pin-cushions; and now for Bessy."</p>
+
+<p>Bessy began to giggle and to move herself about in a very uneasy way.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have nothing to show, Bessy," said her aunt; "or if you are not
+ready, we will excuse you."</p>
+
+<p>"It does not signify," answered Bessy, "I am as ready now as I ever
+shall be. I can make nothing of the silk."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you lost it?" asked her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered; "I have it&mdash;you may as well see it at once;" and
+diving again into her pocket, she brought out what looked very like a
+piece of blotting-paper which had been well used, and laid it on the
+table. "I could not help it," she said; "but I had it on the table one
+morning, when I was in this room alone, and I tumbled over the inkstand
+right upon it; and I thought it was lucky that almost all the ink had
+fallen on the silk, and not on the cloth; so, as it was spoiled
+already, I used it to wipe up the rest of the ink, and that is the
+whole truth."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche, though vexed, could not keep herself from smiling,
+which Bessy seeing, tried to turn the whole affair into a laugh; but it
+was not a merry laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, take it away, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche; "put it by to wipe
+your pens with;" and away ran Bessy out of the room, not to laugh when
+by herself, but to cry: and this, we are glad to say, was not the first
+time that the poor motherless girl had shed tears for her own follies
+within the last day or two.<!-- Page 312 --></p>
+
+<p>When she had left the room, Mrs. Goodriche said:</p>
+
+<p>"Poor young creature! I am sorry for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Lucy, "because she has had no mamma for many years;
+but Emily and I begin to love her, she is so good-tempered."</p>
+
+<p>"God will bless her," said Mrs. Fairchild; "He has shown His love by
+giving her a friend who will be a mother to her."</p>
+
+<p>"But now, my little girls," said Mrs. Goodriche, "these things which
+you have made so prettily are your own."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, ma'am," they both answered; "and may we do what we like
+with them?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure," replied Mrs. Goodriche.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Emily, "I shall give one to Mary Bush, and another to
+Margery, and another to Mrs. Trueman, for their best pin-cushions."</p>
+
+<p>"And I shall give this housewife to nurse," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that you will like to have them
+furnished for the poor women; I will give what pins and needles can be
+found on Monday morning; and at the same time I have for each of you a
+piece of nice flowered chintz for your dolls."</p>
+
+<p>The little girls kissed the old lady with all their hearts, and ran
+away with the things which they had made: it was agreed that they were
+not to talk of them again before Bessy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 313 -->
+<h3><a name="Bessys_Misfortunes" id="Bessys_Misfortunes"></a>Bessy's Misfortunes</h3>
+
+<a name="image_313"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/313.png" border="0" width="576" height="325" ALT="Bessy was crying most piteously"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> Sunday morning was very fine, and there was a nice large party
+going to church together. We have not mentioned Mr. Somers lately, but
+he was still there, and very much beloved. His mother had lately come
+to live with him; she was a very old friend of Mrs. Goodriche, and when
+the two old ladies saw each other from their pews, they were vastly
+pleased. They hastened to meet each other after service; and Mrs.
+Somers begged all Mrs. Goodriche's party to come into the Parsonage
+House, which was close to the church.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild said there were too many for all to go in; so she
+directed Betty to see the young ladies home: they had some way to walk,
+but had hardly got out of the village when Betty said:</p>
+
+<p>"We shall surely have a shower&mdash;we shall be caught in the rain if we
+are not sharp."</p>
+
+<p>"May we run, Betty?" asked Lucy and Emily; and having got leave, they
+set off at full speed, and got into the house just in time.<!-- Page 314 --></p>
+
+<p>"Come, Miss Goodriche," said Betty; "you can run, I know, as well as
+the best of them, so why don't you set off too? As for me, I have not
+got my best bonnet on, for I foresaw there would be showers, and I have
+nothing else that can hurt. A very few drops would make that pretty
+crape bonnet of yours not fit to be seen."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall be at home before the rain comes," said Bessy; "and I am sure
+that if it is only a few drops they will not hurt my bonnet; I want to
+stay with you. I want to ask you about the people I saw at church.
+Come, now, tell me, Betty, what was that family that sat just before
+us?"</p>
+
+<p>Betty was walking away as fast as she could, and she answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Miss, I can't stop to talk&mdash;it has begun to rain behind us on the
+hills; we shall have it in no time; and there is no house this way to
+run into."</p>
+
+<p>"O la! Betty," cried Miss Bessy next; "my shoe-string is unpinned: do,
+for pity, lend me a big pin."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Miss," said Betty, "sure you don't pin your shoe-strings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only when I am in a hurry," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>Betty found a pin, and the shoe was put to rights as well as might be;
+but two minutes at least were lost whilst this was being done.</p>
+
+<p>"Now come on, Miss, as fast as you can," said Betty; "the drops are
+already falling on the dust at our feet."</p>
+
+<p>They went on a few paces without another word, and then Miss Bessy
+screamed:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Betty, the other string has gone snap: have you another pin?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss, Miss!" said Betty, fumbling for a pin, and in her hurry not
+being able to find one. Once more Miss Bessy was what soldiers call in
+marching order, and they made,<!-- Page 315 --> may be, a hundred paces, without any
+other difficulty but the falling of the rain, though as yet it was only
+the skirts of the shower. The house was in view, and was not distant
+three hundred yards by the road, and somewhat less over a field.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go over the field," said Bessy.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," replied Betty, bustling on. "If the gate on the other side
+should be locked&mdash;and John often keeps it so&mdash;we should be quite at
+fault."</p>
+
+<p>"And what sort of a gate must it be," said Bessy, "that you and I could
+not get over?"</p>
+
+<p>"We had better keep the road, Miss," replied Betty; "the grass must be
+wet already with the little rain which is come."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet it has scarce laid the dust in the road," returned Bessy; "so
+if you choose to keep to the road, I shall take the field; so good-bye
+to you;" and the next minute she was over the stile, and running across
+the grass.</p>
+
+<p>Betty looked after her a minute, and then saying, "Those who have the
+care of you have their hands full," she hurried on; but with all her
+haste she was like one who had been dipped in a well before she got in.</p>
+
+<p>Almost the moment in which the two had parted, the shower had come down
+in right good earnest, driving and gathering and splashing the dust up
+on Betty's white stockings, and causing her to be very glad that she
+had not put on her best-made bonnet and new black ribbons. Betty had
+never worn a coloured bonnet in her life.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime Miss Bessy was flying along the field, throwing up the
+wet at every step from the long grass. The pins in her shoes at first
+acted as spurs, pricking her for many steps, and then crooking and
+giving way; so that she had the comfort of running slipshod the rest of
+the<!-- Page 316 --> way. Her shoes, being of stuff, were so thoroughly soaked, in a
+little time, that they became quite heavy. The gate at the end of the
+field was locked, of course; who ever came to the end of a field in a
+pelting shower, and did not find it locked? It was a five-barred gate,
+and Bessy could have got over it easily if John had not most carefully
+interlaced the two upper bars with thorns and brambles&mdash;for what
+purpose we don't know, but so it was.</p>
+
+<p>Bessy tried to pull some of them out, and in so doing thoroughly soaked
+her gloves, and then only succeeded in pulling aside one or two of
+them; but she mounted the gate, and in coming down, her foot slipping,
+she fell flat on the ground, leaving part of her frock on the thorns,
+which at the time she did not perceive.</p>
+
+<p>"It can't be helped," she thought, as she rose again, and ran on to the
+house without further misfortune. She thought herself lucky in getting
+in by the front door without being seen; and her aunt was not at home,
+which was another piece of luck, she believed; and she hastened to
+change her dress, cramming all her wet things into a closet in the room
+used for hanging up frocks and gowns when taken off. She did not, as it
+happened, throw her frock and bonnet on the floor of the closet; and
+she thought she had been very careful when she hung the frock on a peg
+and the bonnet over it. She had some trouble in getting off her wet
+gloves, which stuck as close to her hands as if they had been part of
+them; and these, with the shoes and other inferior parts of her dress,
+found their places on the floor of the closet. They were all out of the
+way before her aunt could come; for though it had ceased to rain as
+soon as she came in, she knew it would take some time for the walk from
+the Parsonage House.</p>
+
+<p>Such good use did Bessy make of her time that she had<!-- Page 317 --> clean linen and
+her everyday gown on before Mrs. Goodriche came in.</p>
+
+<p>The first inquiry which Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche made was
+whether the young people and Betty had escaped the shower. Lucy, who
+knew no more than that they had all come in soon after each other,
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, but we had a run for it."</p>
+
+<p>Betty was not there to tell her story, and Bessy thought it was quite
+as well to let the affair pass.</p>
+
+<p>Thoughtful people often wonder how giddy ones can be so thoughtless as
+they are, and giddy ones wonder how their thoughtful friends can attend
+to so many things as they do. Many persons are naturally thoughtless,
+but this fault may be repaired by management in childhood. Poor Bessy
+had had no such careful management; and her carelessness had come to
+such a pass, that from the time in which she had hung up her wet and
+spoiled clothes in the closet, she troubled herself about them no more
+till the time came when she wanted to put them on.</p>
+
+<p>Still, she learned much, as it proved, from the misfortunes of that
+Sunday. After dinner it began to pour again, and Mrs. Fairchild took
+Bessy with her own children into a quiet room, and there she read the
+Bible and talked to them. Having been well used to talk to children and
+young people, she made all she said so pleasant, that Bessy was quite
+surprised when Betty knocked at the door and said tea was ready.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the Sunday evening passed off so very pleasantly that even
+Bessy yawned only three times, and that was just before supper&mdash;and yet
+it rained&mdash;rained&mdash;rained.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning rose in great brightness, promising a charming day.
+The forenoon was spent as usual; and after the lessons and work, Mrs.
+Goodriche furnished the pin-<!-- Page 318 -->cushions and the housewife, and gave out
+the two pieces of chintz for the dolls' frocks; and so busy were the
+old lady and the little girls, that it was time to lay the cloth for
+dinner before the things were quite put away.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst all this business was going on, Bessy was somewhere about in the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was not a very common thing for a loud knock to be heard at Mr.
+Fairchild's door. But it was Mr. Somers who knocked, and he came in all
+in a hurry. He came to say that a lady, who lived about two miles
+distant in another parish, had called. He told the lady's name to Mrs.
+Fairchild: and Mrs. Fairchild said she knew her, though they had not
+visited. This lady had a nice house and a pretty orchard; and she had
+come, only an hour before, to say that Miss Pimlico, with all her young
+ladies, were coming to spend the evening with her, and that they were
+to have tea in the open air, and to amuse themselves in any way they
+liked. The lady hoped that Mr. Somers and his mother would come, and
+that they would, if possible, bring with them Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild
+and their nice children, and make a pleasant evening of it.</p>
+
+<p>"We told her that Mrs. Goodriche and her niece were at Mr.
+Fairchild's," added Mr. Somers; "and she said, 'Let them come also, by
+all means; the more the merrier;' and then she kindly entered into what
+carriages we could muster.</p>
+
+<p>"I told her," he continued, "that Mr. Fairchild had a carriage which
+would hold two grown-up persons and three little ones, and that mine
+could do as much if needful; proving that we had even one seat to
+spare&mdash;so come, you must all go. Mrs. Goodriche and my mother shall
+have the back seat of my carriage, and I shall make interest for Miss
+Lucy to sit by me in the front seat."</p>
+
+<p>All the children present looked anxiously to hear<!-- Page 319 --><!-- Page 320 --><!-- Page 321 --> Mr. Fairchild's
+answer, and glad were they when they heard him say, "At what hour
+should we be ready?"</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_321a_text"></a>"At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and Miss Lucy," said
+Mr. Somers. "I have a poor woman to call on by the way, if this lady
+does not object. We may therefore set out about half an hour before
+you. So now, good-bye;" and he walked away.</p>
+
+<a name="image_319"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/319.png" border="0"
+ width="466" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and
+Miss Lucy.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_321a_text">Page 321</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>How merry and happy were the faces round the table at dinner! Mrs.
+Goodriche and Lucy had only just time to get ready before Mr. Somers
+came for them.</p>
+
+<p>When they were gone the rest of the party found it was time to get
+dressed. John brought the carriage to the gate at the time fixed; and
+Henry, who had been watching for it ever since he had been dressed,
+came in to give notice. Emily and her father immediately went to the
+gate; and Mrs. Fairchild, thinking that Bessy might want a little
+attention and help, went to her room. As she knocked at the door she
+thought she heard low sobs within; she called Bessy twice, and no
+answer being given she walked in.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sight indeed! Bessy was sitting at the foot of the bed
+without a frock, and sobbing and crying most piteously. On the floor,
+on one side of her, were her best shoes, shrunk up and wrinkled and
+covered with mud in the most extraordinary way. In another part of the
+floor lay the unfortunate frock, all draggled and splashed round the
+bottom, and, as Mrs. Fairchild could see without lifting it up, wanting
+a part of one breadth. On the drawers was the bonnet, which was of
+reeved crape made upon wire, and not one at all suited for a careless
+girl; but it was made by a milliner at Plymouth. What with soaking,
+crumpling, and here and there a rent from some bough, it had lost all
+appearance of what it had been: it looked a heap of old crape gathered
+carelessly together; and the<!-- Page 322 --> pair of gloves, much in the state of the
+shoes, were lying near the bonnet on the drawers.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, ma'am! Oh, Mrs. Fairchild!" cried the unfortunate Bessy, "what can
+I do? What shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild lifted up the dress, but as hastily laid it down again,
+for she saw it would take some hours to make it fit to be worn. The
+bonnet, shoes, and gloves all equally required time and attention.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid," she said kindly, "it will not do for you to attempt to
+put on these things; and, what is worse, I have none that will fit you.
+My dresses are as much too large as Lucy's are too small."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do, dear Mrs. Fairchild," cried the sobbing Bessy, "at least, let
+me try one of your gowns."</p>
+
+<p>Though aware the attempt would be useless, the kind lady brought one of
+her white dresses, to see if anyhow it could be made to fit; but even
+Bessy, after a while, acknowledged it would not do, being so very much
+too large for her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild next examined the young lady's everyday cotton; but,
+alas! that was too dirty to think of its being shown beside the best
+dresses of the other little misses. Then, too, if a dress could have
+been procured, bonnet, shoes, and gloves would have also been
+requisite; and these could not have been obtained even amongst Miss
+Bessy's own clothes; for if her best were unfit to be seen, her
+commoner ones were scarce worth picking up in the street.</p>
+
+<p>"It will not do, I see," said Miss Bessy; "you had better go without
+me, Mrs. Fairchild."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid it must be as you say," replied that lady, "and most
+sincerely sorry am I for you, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she left the room, and then came another burst of tears, and
+more sobs, for three or four minutes afterwards.<!-- Page 323 --></p>
+
+<p>Bessy, who still sat on the bed, heard the carriage drive away. "Oh,
+how cruel!" she thought, or rather spoke&mdash;"how cruel of Mrs. Fairchild
+to go away, and hardly to say one word to me! But I know she despises
+me; she can think nobody worth anything but her own children:" then
+there was another burst of tears, and more sobs.</p>
+
+<p>After a little time, all spent in crying, she heard her door open
+again, and turning round, she saw Mrs. Fairchild come in without her
+bonnet, in her usual dress, and with a work-bag in her hand. She came
+straight up to the weeping girl, and kissing her, "Now, Bessy," she
+said, "wipe away those tears, and we will have a happy and, I hope,
+useful evening. Betty will be ready to help us immediately, and we
+shall set to work and see what we can do in putting your things to
+rights. The carriage is gone with all the rest of the party, and I have
+sent a message to your aunt by Mr. Fairchild. He will make the best of
+the affair, and if you will help, we will try to put all these things
+to rights."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mrs. Fairchild," said Bessy, throwing herself into her arms, "and
+have you given up your pleasure for such a naughty girl as I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have given up no pleasure so great as I shall receive, dear Miss
+Goodriche, if I can see you trying to do right this evening: trying for
+once to work hard, and to overcome those habits which give your aunt so
+much pain. Come, put on your frock, and let us set to work
+immediately."</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of poor Bessy again filled with tears, but they were tears of
+gratitude and love; and she hastened to put on her frock, and then do
+anything which Mrs. Fairchild directed: and, first of all, the crape
+trimmings were taken from the bonnet and the skirt of the frock; Betty
+was then called, and she took them to her kitchen to do what<!-- Page 324 --> might be
+done to restore them. The shoes were sent to John to stretch on a last,
+and to brush; and Mrs. Fairchild produced some pieces of bombazine from
+her store, and having matched the colours as well as she could, she
+carefully pinned the piecing, and gave it to Bessy to sew.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Bessy's fingers had never plied so quickly and so carefully
+before. They were put in motion by a feeling of the warmest gratitude
+and love for Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>No punishment, no severity, could have produced the effect wrought by
+this well-timed kindness of Mrs. Fairchild; and it gave to her the
+sweetest hopes of poor Bessy, when she observed how strongly and deeply
+she felt that kindness.</p>
+
+<p>They worked and talked till tea-time, and after tea they set to work
+again. Betty came up about seven o'clock with the crape and the bonnet,
+the plaitings of which&mdash;for it was a reeved bonnet&mdash;she had smoothed
+with a small Italian iron, and restored wonderfully. Then she sat down
+and sewed with Miss Bessy at the frock, whilst Mrs. Fairchild trimmed
+the bonnet.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock the work was got on so finely that Bessy cried out:</p>
+
+<p>"Another half-hour, if they will but stay away, and it will be done;
+and oh, how I do thank you, dear Mrs. Fairchild, and dear Betty! I will
+really try in future to do better; I never wished to do better as I do
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"There is an early moon, miss," said Betty; "I should not wonder if
+they stayed till it was up."</p>
+
+<p>It struck nine, and they were not come; another five minutes and the
+work was finished. Bessy jumped up from the foot of the bed and kissed
+Mrs. Fairchild first, and then Betty; and then came a bustle to put
+everything away.<!-- Page 325 --></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild showed Bessy how to lay aside her bonnet in the bandbox,
+and her frock in a drawer, with a clean handkerchief over each. The
+tippet, which was the only one thing which had escaped mischief, for
+the plain reason that it had not been worn on the Sunday with the
+frock, was laid in the same drawer; and then the needles and silk and
+cotton were collected, and the bits and shreds picked up, and the room
+restored to order as if nothing wonderful had happened.</p>
+
+<p>The last thing Mrs. Fairchild did in that room was to take up the
+gloves and give them to Betty, to see what could be done with them the
+next day, and then she, with the happy young girl, put on shawls and
+walked on the gravel before the house, for it was still hot.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we have had a happy, happy evening, dear Mrs. Fairchild," said
+Bessy; "I never thought I should love you so much."</p>
+
+<p>The party did not come home till ten o'clock; they had had such an
+evening as Lucy and Emily had never known before; but they had often
+thought of poor Bessy, and wished for her many times, and their mother
+too. Mrs. Goodriche had also been uneasy about Bessy. How surprised,
+then, they were to see her looking so cheerful, and Mrs. Fairchild also
+seeming to be equally happy.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you all about it when we get to our room, aunt," whispered
+Bessy; "but I do not deserve such kindness. Mrs. Fairchild says I had
+better not speak about it now."</p>
+
+<p>They had had tea and a handsome supper; so when they had talked the
+evening over, and Mr. Fairchild had read a chapter, they all went to
+their rooms.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 326 -->
+<h3><a name="The_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low" id="The_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low"></a>The History of Little Bernard Low</h3>
+
+<a name="image_326"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/326.png" border="0" width="575" height="362" ALT="Bessy was very sorry to leave her young friends"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> rest of Mrs. Goodriche's visit passed off very quietly and very
+pleasantly. Bessy became from day to day more manageable, and Lucy and
+Emily began to love her very much.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goodriche was inquiring everywhere for a house close by, and there
+was none which seemed as if it could be made to suit her. She and Bessy
+returned home therefore at the end of a fortnight, and Bessy was very
+sorry to leave her young friends.</p>
+
+<p>It was four or five days after Mrs. Goodriche had left them before Mr.
+Fairchild proposed that they should read that famous book which Henry
+talked so much about.</p>
+
+<p>"But where shall we go to read it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! to the hut in the wood, papa, if you please," answered Lucy; and
+in less than an hour everybody was ready to set out: and when everybody
+was seated as they had been the time before, the book was opened, and
+Lucy waited to read only till Henry and Emily had seen the picture at
+the beginning. I will tell you what the picture was when we come to the
+place of it in the story.<!-- Page 327 --></p>
+
+
+<h4>The History of Little Bernard Low</h4>
+
+<h5><i>THE STORY IN HENRY'S BOOK</i></h5>
+
+<p>"Mr. Low was a clergyman, and had a good living in that part of this
+country where the hills of Wales extend towards the plains of England,
+forming sweet valleys, often covered with woods, and rendered fruitful
+and beautiful by rills which have their sources in the distant hills.</p>
+
+<p>"<a name="tn_pg_363"></a><!-- TN: Period added to "Mr"-->Mr. Low never had but one brother; this brother had been a wild boy,
+and had run away many years before, and never had been heard of since.</p>
+
+<p>"The name of the valley in which Mr. Low's living was situated was
+Rookdale; his own house stood alone amongst woods and waterfalls, but
+there was a village nearer to the mouth of the valley, and in that
+village, besides some farmers and many cottagers, lived another
+clergyman of the name of Evans. He was a worthy humble man, and came
+from the very wildest parts of Wales. He was a needy man, and was
+forced to work hard to get a decent living for himself, his sister,
+Miss Grizzy Evans, and an orphan nephew, Stephen Poppleton. Mr. Low
+gave him fifty pounds a year to help him in the care of his parish,
+which spread far and wide over the high grounds which surrounded
+Rookdale; and he added something to his gains by teaching the children
+of the farmers in the parish, and by taking in two or three boys as
+boarders; he could not take many, because his house was small and
+inconvenient. We shall know more of Mr. Evans when we have read the few
+next pages.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Low's living was a very good one, and brought in much money. The
+house too was good, and he kept<!-- Page 328 --> several servants, and lived
+handsomely. He had had four children, but two of them were dead. Mr.
+Low had but one daughter, her name was Lucilla; and the two eldest were
+sons, Alfred and Henry. Henry died a baby, but Alfred lived till he was
+eight years old, and then died, and was buried by the side of his
+infant brother. The fourth and last child of Mr. and Mrs. Low was
+Bernard; he was more than five years younger than Lucilla.</p>
+
+<p>"When Bernard was born, it seemed as if no one could make too much of
+him. The old woman, Susan Berkley, who had been Mr. Low's own nurse,
+and had always lived in the family, was so fond of Bernard that she
+could not refuse him anything; and Mrs. Low was what people call so
+wrapped up in her boy, that she could never make enough of him. In this
+respect she was very weak, but those who have lost children well know
+how strong the temptation is to over-indulge those who are left. At
+first Mr. Low did not observe how far these plans of indulgence were
+being carried; indeed, he did not open his eyes fully to the mischief
+till Bernard was become one of the most troublesome, selfish boys in
+the whole valley. At five years old he was the torment of the whole
+house, though even then he was cunning enough to hide some of his worst
+tempers from his father. He had found out that when he pretended to be
+ill, mother, nurse, and sister were all frightened out of their senses,
+and that at such times he could get his way in everything, however
+improper. He did not care what pain he gave them if he could get what
+he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"His father, however, did at length find out the mischief that was
+going on; and as he feared that his wife and nurse would not have the
+firmness to check the boy if he remained always at home, he proposed
+that Bernard should be sent as a day boarder to Mr. Evans.<!-- Page 329 --> His father
+wished that he should go every morning after breakfast, dine at school,
+and return to tea.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have been much to blame,' said Mr. Low, 'in not speaking before of
+the way in which Bernard has been managed. I blame myself greatly for
+this neglect, and I now feel that no more time must be lost; and I
+think it will be easier for us to part with him for a few hours every
+day, than to send him to a distance.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Low was a gentle person, and wished to do right; she shed tears,
+but made no resistance. Lucilla thought that her papa was right; she
+had lately seen how naughty Bernard was getting; so Mr. Low had no
+opposition either from his wife or daughter. When nurse, however, was
+told that her darling was to go to school to Parson Evans, she was very
+angry; and though she did not dare to speak her mind to her master, she
+had no fear of telling it to her mistress and the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, to be sure,' she said, 'master has curious notions, to think of
+sending such a delicate babe as Master Bernard to be kicked about by a
+parcel of boys, and to be made to eat anything that's set before him,
+whether he likes it or not. So good a child as he is too: so meek and
+so tender, that if he but suspects a cross word, he is ready to jump
+out of himself, and falls a-crying and quaking, and won't be appeased
+anyhow, till the fit's over with him. Indeed, mistress, if you give him
+up in this point, I won't say what the consequences may be.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But, nurse,' said Lucilla, 'really Bernard does want to be kept a
+little in order.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And that from you, Miss?' answered the nurse; 'what would you feel,
+was you to see him laid in his grave beside his precious little
+brothers?'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla could not answer this question, and Mrs. Low could not speak
+for weeping; so nurse was left to say all<!-- Page 330 --> she chose; and as Bernard
+came in before she had cooled herself down, she told him what was
+proposed, and said it would break her heart to part with him only for a
+few hours every day.</p>
+
+<p>"On hearing this, Bernard thought it a proper occasion to show off his
+meek spirit, and so much noise did he make, and so rebellious and
+stubborn was his behaviour, that his father, who heard him from a
+distance, made up his mind to go that very evening to speak about him
+to Mr. Evans. Mr. Low did not find the worthy man at home; he had
+walked out with his nephew and three boys who boarded in the house; but
+Mr. Low found Miss Evans in a small parlour, dressed, as she always was
+in an evening, with some pretensions to fashion and smartness: she was
+very busy with a huge basket of stockings, which she was mending.</p>
+
+<p>"When Mr. Low told her his business, she was quite delighted, for she
+had lived in that humble village till she thought Mr. Low one of the
+greatest men in the world, because she never saw any greater. She
+answered for her brother that he would receive Master Bernard and give
+him every care; 'and for me, sir,' she added, 'I promise you that the
+young gentleman shall have the best of everything our poor table will
+afford.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I wish,' replied Mr. Low, 'that he may be treated exactly as the
+other boys, my good madam, and no bustle whatever made with him.'</p>
+
+<p>"Soon after Mr. Low was gone, Mr. Evans and his nephew, and three
+pupils, passed the parlour window. Miss Grizzy tapped on the glass, and
+beckoned to her brother to come to her, which he did, immediately
+followed by his nephew.</p>
+
+<p>"'Who do you think has been here, brother, whilst you have been out?'
+said she; 'who but Mr. Low?' and she<!-- Page 331 --> told him what Mr. Low had come
+for, and that she had undertaken that Master Bernard should be
+received.</p>
+
+<p>"'Very good, sister,' replied Mr. Evans, 'all is well;' and he went out
+again at the parlour door, seeming to be much pleased. Stephen remained
+behind, and the moment the door was shut, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"'You seem to be much set up, Aunt Grizzy, at the thought of this boy's
+coming; you must know, surely, that he is a shocking spoiled child, and
+that there will be no possibility of pleasing him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'We must try, however,' answered Miss Evans; 'I know, as well as you
+can do, what he is, a little proud, petted, selfish thing: for is he
+not the talk of the parish? I have often wondered how Mr. Low could
+have been so long blind to the need of sending him to school; but then
+think, nephew, Mr. Low offers as much as if the boy boarded here
+entirely, and he is only to dine; and I doubt not but that there will
+be pretty presents too&mdash;you know that both Mr. and Mrs. Low are very
+thoughtful in that way.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But if you can't keep the little plague in good humour,' answered
+Stephen, 'instead of presents we may have disputes and quarrels; and
+where will you be then, aunt?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I hope, Stephen, that you will not be creating these quarrels; that
+you will bear and forbear, and pay Master Low proper respect, and see
+that Meekin and Griffith and Price do the same: you know well that not
+one of them are of such high families as Master Low.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You had best not say that to Griffith, aunt,' answered Stephen; 'he
+has a very high notion, I can tell you, of his family, though his
+father is only a shopkeeper.'</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Evans put up her lip and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, mind me, Stephen, no quarrelling, I say, with<!-- Page 332 --> Master Low, at
+least on your part; so now walk off to your place.'</p>
+
+<p>"When nurse had said all that was in her mind, she became more calm
+upon the subject of Bernard's going to school; and so thoroughly did
+the child tease during the few days that passed before he went, that
+she was almost obliged to confess to herself that it was not altogether
+a very bad thing that he was to have lessons to learn, and some
+employment from home during part of every day.</p>
+
+<p><a name="page_332a_text"></a>"But when Bernard was actually to go, there was such a to-do about it,
+that he might just as well have stayed at home, as to any good which
+might be expected from it in the way of making him think less of
+himself.</p>
+
+<a name="image_333"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/333.png" border="0"
+ width="449" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a
+to-do about it.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_332a_text">Page 332</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"Lucilla had had a little pony for several years; this pony was to be
+saddled for Bernard, and he was to ride to and from school, whilst a
+servant attended him. His mother took the occasion to send a present of
+fruit and nice vegetables by this servant to Miss Grizzy; and there was
+a note written to Mr. Evans all about Bernard, and a great deal said in
+it about getting his feet wet; and shoes were sent that he might change
+them when he came in from play. Nurse also was sent down about two
+hours after him, with some messages to Miss Evans and to hear how the
+darling got on.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard was very sulky all that first morning. He was quite eight
+years old; Mr. Evans therefore was much surprised at his being a very
+poor reader. Indeed he could not in any way stammer out the first
+chapter in the Bible, and Mr. Evans was obliged to put him into the
+spelling-book at the first page. He called him up between each Latin
+lesson he gave, but found that each time he called him, he read rather
+worse than the time before. The simple truth is that he did not choose
+to do better.<!-- Page 333 --><!-- Page 334 --><!-- Page 335 --></p>
+
+<p>"Griffith whispered to Meekin, the last time Bernard was up, 'Mind what
+I say, he is no better than a fool;' and Meekin passed the same words
+to Price, and then it was a settled thing with these three boys, that
+Bernard Low was a fool, and a very proper person to play any fun upon.</p>
+
+<p>"But whilst these boys were settling this matter amongst them, Miss
+Grizzy had sent for Stephen into the parlour, and given him some of the
+fine pears and walnuts which Mrs. Low had sent.</p>
+
+<p>"'Here, nephew,' she said, 'is the earnest of many more little presents
+which we may expect; but everything depends on your behaviour to the
+boy. We must keep him in good humour&mdash;we must show him every possible
+favour in a quiet way, and you must not let Griffith and the others
+tease him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'This is an uncommon good pear,' said Stephen, as he bit a great piece
+out of one of them.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is it not?' replied his aunt; 'but, Stephen, do you hear me? you must
+not let Griffith be playing his tricks on Master Low.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I understand,' answered Stephen, taking another bite at the pear.
+'Don't you think I know on which side my bread is buttered yet, aunt?'
+he asked; 'though I am near fifteen years of age, and half through
+Homer? but you must allow that Bernard Low is an abominably
+disagreeable fellow, and one that one should like to duck in a
+horse-pond&mdash;a whining, puling, mother-spoiled brat; however, I will see
+that he shan't be quizzed to his face, and I suppose that's all you
+require, is not it?'</p>
+
+<p>"So he put all that remained of what his aunt had given him of the
+fruit into his pocket, for himself, and left the room. He went straight
+to the yard where the boys played, and scarcely got there in time to
+hinder Griffith<!-- Page 336 --> from beginning his tricks with Bernard, for he had got
+a piece of whipcord, and was insisting that the boy should be tied with
+it between Meekin and Price, and that they should be the team and he
+the driver; and a pretty run would the first and last horse have given
+the middle one, had Griffith's plan been executed.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard was already beginning to whine and put his finger in his eye,
+when Stephen came in and called out:</p>
+
+<p>"'Eh, what's that there? David Griffith, let the child alone; he has
+not been used to your horseplay.'</p>
+
+<p>"And as Stephen was much bigger and stronger than the other boys, they
+all thought it best to give way.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard was let off, and he walked away, not in the best of tempers,
+into the house, and into Miss Evans's own parlour, where she was seated
+at her usual employment, darning stockings.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, Master Low,' she said, 'I hope you find everything agreeable; I
+am sure it shall not be my fault if you do not; you have only to say
+the word and anything you don't like shall be changed, if it is in my
+power.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I don't like that boy,' answered Bernard; 'that David Griffith.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Never mind him, never mind him, Master Low,' replied Miss Evans; 'any
+time that he don't make himself agreeable, only come to me; I am always
+glad to see you here to sit in my parlour, and warm yourself if it is
+cold. You know how much I respect your papa and mamma; there is nothing
+I would not do for them.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard had been so much used to flattery and fond words, that he did
+not value them at all; he thought that they were only his due; and he
+did not so much as say 'Thank you' to Miss Evans, nor even look smiling
+nor pleasant; but he walked up to her round table, and<!-- Page 337 --> curiously eyed
+the large worsted stocking which she was darning&mdash;'Whose is that?' he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"'My brother's, Master Low,' she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"'Does he wear such things as those?' said Bernard; 'but I suppose he
+must, because he is poor, and a curate, and a schoolmaster&mdash;my papa
+wears silk.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Your papa,' said Miss Evans, 'is a rich man, Master Low, and a
+rector; and he can afford many things we must not think of.'</p>
+
+<p>"'When shall we dine?' asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Very soon, my dear,' answered Miss Evans.</p>
+
+<p>"And then Master Bernard turned off to some other question, as
+impertinently expressed as those he had put before.</p>
+
+<p>"The dinner was set out in the room used for a schoolroom; an
+ill-shaped room, with walls that had been washed with salmon colour,
+but which were all scratched and inked. Each boy had a stool to sit
+upon; the cloth was coarse, though clean, and all the things set upon
+the table were coarse also.</p>
+
+<p>"When called to dinner by a rough maidservant, Miss Evans led Bernard
+in by the hand, and set him by herself on a chair at the <i>head</i> of the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"'Sister,' said Mr. Evans, in a low voice, 'last come, last
+served&mdash;Master Low should sit below Price.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Leave me to judge for myself, brother,' answered Miss Evans; 'you may
+depend on my judgment.'</p>
+
+<p>"And Bernard kept his seat, and had the nicest bits placed on his
+plate.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard would have been quite as well contented, or, perhaps we may
+say, not in the least more discontented, had he been set down at once
+in his proper place, and served after the other boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the other boys were not quite pleased; but<!-- Page 338 --> Stephen was told to
+tell them that Master Low was a parlour-boarder; and though they did
+not quite understand what a parlour-boarder meant, they thought it
+meant something, and that Bernard was to have some indulgences which
+they were not to have.</p>
+
+<p>"Many a trick would they have played him, no doubt, if Stephen had not
+watched them. But as Stephen hated the spoiled child as much as they
+did, he never hindered their speaking ill of him, and quizzing him,
+when he did not hear or understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Griffith soon gave him a nickname&mdash;this name was Noddy; there was no
+wit in it, but the boys found great amusement in talking of this Noddy,
+and of all his faults and follies, before the face of Bernard himself.
+When he asked who this Noddy was, they told him that they were sure he
+must have seen him very often, for his family lived at Rookdale.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans himself was the only person in the family at school who
+really strove to do his duty by Bernard&mdash;he gave his heart to improve
+him; and he did get him on in his learning more than might have been
+expected. But there were too many things against the poor child to make
+it possible for him to improve his temper and his character.</p>
+
+<p>"He went to school from the autumn until Christmas: at Christmas he was
+at home for a month, and made even his nurse long for the end of the
+holidays; and then he went again after the holidays, and continued to
+go every day till the spring appeared again. There was no intention
+then of changing the plan, though Mr. Low was not at all satisfied with
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard was now become so cunning that he did not show the worst of
+his tempers before his father, nor even before his mother; but to his
+sister he appeared just as he<!-- Page 339 --> was, and he often made her very, very
+sad by his naughty ways.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla was one of those young people who love God and all their
+fellow-creatures, and desire to do them good. She had always loved
+Bernard, and she loved him still, though she saw him getting more and
+more naughty from day to day. She believed, however, that he still
+loved her as well as he could love any person besides himself, and she
+thought a long time of some way which she might take to make him
+sensible of his faults.</p>
+
+<p>"During that winter she had often spoken to him in her kind and gentle
+way, and shown him the certain end of evil behaviour; but she felt that
+he paid no more attention to her than he would have done to the buzzing
+of a fly; but now that the spring was come, and they could get out
+together into the fields and gardens and woods, before and after
+school-time, and on half-holidays, she thought she might have a better
+chance with him, and she formed a thousand plans for making the time
+they might thus pass together pleasant, before she could hit upon one
+which she thought might do.</p>
+
+<p>"In a shadowy and sweet nook of the garden was an artificial piece of
+rock-work, which her mother, when first married, had caused to be made
+there, the fragments of rock having been brought from a little
+distance. There Lucilla, with the gardener's assistance, scooped a
+hollow place, a few feet square, and arranged a pretty little
+hermitage: dressing a doll like an old man, and painting a piece of
+glass to fix in the back of the hermitage, to look like the window of a
+chapel. She next sent and bought a few common tools, and thought, as
+Bernard was very fond of clipping and cutting, she could tempt him to
+work to help finish this hermitage. There was a root-house close to the
+place, where she thought they might<!-- Page 340 --> set to work at this business. 'And
+if I can but engage Bernard,' she said to herself, 'to use his fingers,
+I might perhaps now and then say something to soften him, and make him
+feel it is wrong to go on as he does.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans always gave a week's holiday at Whitsuntide, and Lucilla
+thought that this should be her time for trying what she could do with
+Bernard."</p>
+
+<a name="image_340"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<img src="images/340.png" border="0" width="322" height="183" ALT="But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a to-do"></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 341 -->
+<h3><a name="Second_Part_of_the_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low" id="Second_Part_of_the_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low"></a>Second Part of the History of Little Bernard Low</h3>
+
+<a name="image_341"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/341.png" border="0" width="580" height="313" ALT="&quot;Let us sit here under the shade of a tree&quot;"></div>
+
+<h4><i>SECOND PART OF HENRY'S STORY</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"Meekin</span> and Griffith and Price went home to spend the Whitsun holidays
+on the Saturday evening, and Bernard came home also, with the
+expectation of an idle time, which was to last till the Monday after
+the next.</p>
+
+<p>"The weather was very fine; all the early shrubs and flowers were in
+bloom, the cuckoo was still in the woods, and the leaves had not lost
+their tender young green.</p>
+
+<p>"The young men in Rookdale were very fond of ringing the bells when
+there was a holiday, and they rang away great part of Sunday and of
+Monday also.</p>
+
+<p>"The bells were soft and sweet, though rather sad; but the lads in the
+belfry found nothing sad in pulling at the ropes, and going up and down
+with them.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla missed Bernard during several hours of the Sunday; she did not
+guess that he had gone into the belfry with the young men, and that he
+had persuaded the cook to give him a jug of beer to send to them. The<!-- Page 342 -->
+men would not let him pull a bell, as he was not strong enough&mdash;even
+the beer would not tempt them.</p>
+
+<p>"The Monday morning was as bright as the Sunday had been, and it was
+enough to make the old young again to hear the man who was mowing the
+lawn whetting his scythe whilst the dew was on the grass, and the
+various songs of the birds in the trees.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla had fixed upon this day to show Bernard the hermitage; but she
+was rather put out, when she came down to breakfast, to see that there
+was a very sulky flush on his cheeks, and that he was complaining of
+his father to his mother, whilst his father was not in the room.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, mamma,' said Bernard, 'do ask papa; it's a holiday, and a fine
+day, and I want to go. And why can't I go? Papa is so cross.'</p>
+
+<p>"'My dear, you can't go to L&mdash;&mdash; (that was the nearest town to
+Rookdale) to-day,' replied his mother; 'your papa is too busy to ride
+with you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Can't John go?' asked Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'He is engaged also,' said Mrs. Low.</p>
+
+<p>"'Can't Ralph go?' returned Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ralph is too young to be trusted with your papa's horse,' said Mrs.
+Low.</p>
+
+<p>"'But I must go.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But indeed you can't.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I can walk. What's to hinder my walking?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Now do be content, my dear&mdash;stay with your sister&mdash;she has nothing to
+do but to be with you;' and thus the mother and son went on until Mr.
+Low came in, and then Bernard became what Griffith would have called
+glum, for Griffith used many odd words.</p>
+
+<p>"There was no more said about going to L&mdash;&mdash; after Mr. Low came in; but
+it was quite certain that Bernard's sour looks were not lost on his
+father.<!-- Page 343 --></p>
+
+<p>"When breakfast was over, Lucilla said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, Bernard, come with me&mdash;I have a pleasure for you.' When she had
+put on her bonnet she led him to her grotto, and showed him what she
+had done already, and gave him the tools and some little bits of wood,
+and said, 'Now you must make my hermit a table and a chair&mdash;he must
+have a table; and whilst you make these I will finish his dress, and
+fasten the flax on for his beard, and make him a rosary with beads.'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla watched her brother's face whilst she showed him the things,
+and told him what she hoped he would do; and she saw that he never
+smiled once. Spoiled children sometimes laugh loud, but they smile very
+little; they have generally very grave faces.</p>
+
+<p>"When they had looked at the grotto, they went into the root-house;
+there were seats round it, and a table in the middle. Lucilla sat down,
+and pulled her needle and thread and beads and bits of silk and cloth
+out of her basket; and Bernard sat down too with the tools and bits of
+wood and board before him.</p>
+
+<p>"He first took up one tool and then another, and examined them, and
+called them over. There was a nail-passer, and a hammer, and a strong
+knife, and one or two more things very useful to a young boy in making
+toys, or anything else in a small way; in short, everything that was
+safe for such a one to have. But Bernard was out of humour, and looked
+for something to find fault with, so of course he could find nothing to
+please him.</p>
+
+<p>"'This nail-driver is too small, Lucilla,' he said; 'where did you get
+it?'</p>
+
+<p>"'At L&mdash;&mdash;,' she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"'What did you give for it?' he asked. 'If you gave much, they have
+cheated you; and the hammer, what did you give for that?'<!-- Page 344 --></p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla either did not remember, or did not choose to tell him; and,
+without noticing his questions, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"'What will you make first?'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"'Suppose you take this little square bit of deal,' said Lucilla, 'and
+put legs to it, Bernard?'</p>
+
+<p>"The boy took up the deal, turned it about, and, as Lucilla hoped, was
+about to prepare a leg; for <a name="page_344_text"></a>he took up a slender slip of wood, and
+began paring it. She then went on with her work, looking up from time
+to time, whilst Bernard went on cutting the slip. He pared and pared,
+and notched awhile, till that slip was reduced to mere splinters. Still
+Lucilla seemed to take no notice, but began to talk of anything she
+could think of. Amongst other things, she talked of the pleasant week
+they had before them, and of a scheme which their father had proposed
+of their all going to drink tea some evening at a cottage in the wood;
+she said, how pleasant it would be for them all to be together. No
+answer again&mdash;Bernard had just spoiled another slip of wood, which he
+finished off by wilfully snapping it in two; after which he stared his
+sister full in the face, as if he was resolved to make her notice him.</p>
+
+<p>"She saw what he was about, and therefore seemed as if she did not even
+see him. She was sad, but she went on talking. The bells had struck up
+again: they sounded sweetly, and they seemed sometimes to come as if
+directly from the church, and then again as if from the woods and hills
+on the opposite side. Lucilla remarked how odd this was, and said she
+could not account for it; and then she added, 'Do you know, Bernard,
+that I never hear bells ring without thinking of Alfred? he used to
+love to hear them; he called them music, and once asked me if there<!-- Page 345 -->
+would be bells in heaven. I was very little then, only in my seventh
+year, and I told him that there would be golden bells in heaven,
+because the pilgrims had heard them ring when they were waiting in the
+Land of Beulah to go over the River of Death.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I say,' said Bernard, 'these bits of wood are not worth burning.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You cut into them too deeply,' answered Lucilla.</p>
+
+<p>"'There goes!' returned Bernard, snapping another; then, laying down
+the knife, he took up the nail-passer, using it to bore a hole in the
+board which formed the table of the root-house.</p>
+
+<p>"'You must not do that,' said Lucilla, almost drawn out of her
+patience.</p>
+
+<p>"'Who says so?' answered Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'It is mischief,' said Lucilla. 'It is papa's table; he will be vexed
+if he sees it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What for?' said the tiresome boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"'What for?' repeated Bernard, throwing down the nail-passer, and
+taking up the hammer, with which he knocked away on the place where he
+had made the hole.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, my beads!' cried his sister; for the hammering had overturned the
+little box in which they were, and she had only time to save them, or
+most of them, from rolling down on the gravel.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well,' said Bernard, 'if that does not please you, what can I do
+next?'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla sighed; she could not speak at the moment, she was so very
+sad, and so much disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"'I thought,' said Bernard, after a minute, 'that you promised me a
+pleasure. What is it?'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla's eyes filled with tears; she rubbed them<!-- Page 346 --> hastily away, and
+went on working, though without any delight in her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard yawned, then stretched; and after a while he said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Come, Lucilla, let us have a walk.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Anything,' thought Lucilla, 'that will put you into a better state of
+mind.' So she gathered up her work, put it into her basket, and arose,
+leaving the tools and the work on her table; then, giving one sad look
+at her grotto, she led the way to a wicket not very far off, which
+opened on a path made by her father through some part of the large and
+beautiful wood which skirted part of the garden. Bernard followed her,
+and they went on together for some time in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"The path first led them down into a deep hollow, through the bottom of
+which ran a pure stream of water, which had its source in the hills
+above. The rays of the sun, which here and there shone through the
+trees, sparkled and danced in the running stream. A gentle breeze was
+rustling among the leaves; and besides the song of many birds, the
+clear note of the cuckoo was heard from some distance.</p>
+
+<p>"The path led them to a little bridge of a single plank and a
+hand-rail, over which they crossed, and began to go up still among
+woods to the other side, where the bank was very much more steep.</p>
+
+<p>"Still they spoke not: Lucilla was thinking of Bernard, and grieving
+for his wayward humours; and Bernard was thinking that Lucilla was not
+half such good company as Ralph the stable-boy, or even as Miss Evans
+or Stephen; and yet he had some sort of love for Lucilla, though he did
+not like her company. He was, however, the first to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"'Lucilla,' he said, 'do you know a lad in the parish called Noddy?'<!-- Page 347 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Noddy?' replied Lucilla.</p>
+
+<p>"'There is such a one,' said Bernard; 'Griffith knows him well, and
+they say he is the oddest fellow&mdash;a sort of fool, and everybody's
+laughing-stock. They will have it that I have seen him often; but if I
+have, I don't know him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'There may be many boys in the parish unknown to me,' answered
+Lucilla.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have asked Ralph about him,' said Bernard; 'but I can't get
+anything out of him; he always falls a-laughing when I speak the word.'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla felt herself more and more sad about her brother, and said to
+him:</p>
+
+<p>"'Really, Bernard, you are too intimate with Ralph; he may be a very
+good boy, but you ought not to be so free with him as you are.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard walked on, and made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"It was rather hard work, even for these two young people, to climb
+this bank, which was, indeed, the foot of a very steep hill; at last
+they came out on one side of the wood, on a very sweet field, covered
+with fine grass, but nearly as steep as the path by which they had
+come. The prospect from the top of this field was very lovely, for
+immediately below was the deep dell in which the water flowed, and up a
+little above it their father's house and garden, and beyond that the
+tower of the church and the trees in the churchyard were seen; and
+still farther on, hills of all shapes, near and far off, and woods, and
+downs, and farmhouses. What pleased the little girl most was a road
+which looked like a white thread winding away over the heights, and
+passing out of sight near around hill, with a clump of firs at the top.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let us sit down here under the shade of a tree,' said Lucilla; and
+she sat down, whilst Bernard stretched himself by her side.<!-- Page 348 --></p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla began to speak, after their long silence, by pointing out the
+different things which they saw before them, telling the names of the
+hills, and showing the farm-houses.</p>
+
+<p>"'And there,' she said, 'look at that winding road and that round hill.
+Beyond that hill is a common covered with gorse, where there are many
+rabbits, and also many sheep. Nurse's son lives on that common: he was
+papa's foster-brother. You know he is nurse's only child, and has got a
+pretty cottage there. When poor little Alfred was beginning to get weak
+and unwell, soon after Henry died; and mamma was ill too, and obliged
+to go somewhere for her health, it was advised by the doctors that
+Alfred should also change the air: and as the air of that common was
+thought very fine, I went with my brother and nurse to spend the summer
+at her son's cottage; and, Bernard, though I was then but six years
+old, I remember everything there as if I had left it but yesterday, for
+nurse has so often talked about that time to me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Sweet little Alfred! He seemed to get quite well and strong; he rode
+about the common on a donkey sometimes, and sometimes he played with
+me, and sometimes we used to sit on the little heaps covered with sweet
+short herbs, and talk of many things.</p>
+
+<p>"'His chief delight was to talk of some place far away, where he always
+fancied we were to go soon: he was to see Henry there, and Henry would
+have wings, and his Saviour would be with them to take care of them,
+and I was to come, and papa and mamma. I suppose that he spoke the
+words of a baby; but the thoughts which were in his heart were very
+sweet. He was merry, too, Bernard, more merry than you are, and full of
+little tricks to make me laugh. But when we had been three months at
+the cottage he grew languid and pale again; he was brought home, and
+from that time grew worse and worse; and he<!-- Page 349 --> died before Christmas. Oh,
+Bernard, he was the gentlest, sweetest child&mdash;so pale! so beautiful!'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla for a minute could say no more; she covered her face with her
+hands, and large tears fell from her eyes. Bernard did not speak, but
+he had an odd feeling in his throat, and wished that Lucilla was not
+there to see him cry, for he felt he wanted to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla soon spoke again, and went on in the kindest, most gentle way,
+to tell her brother how much more bitter his ill-behaviour was to their
+mother than even the death of her elder boys; saying everything which a
+loving, gentle girl could say to lead him to better behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>"Suddenly, whilst she was speaking, she saw her father and mother
+coming from the little wicket which lay in full view below them, and
+taking their way slowly, and as if talking to each other, along the
+path in the wood. Sometimes the trees partly hid them, then Lucilla saw
+them clearly again, and then not at all. She pointed them out to
+Bernard, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, now, dear brother, is your time; you can run down one bank and
+up another in a few minutes; you can run to mamma, and beg her pardon
+for being sullen and disobedient to her this morning at breakfast; and
+then, my dear, dear brother, you will have made a good beginning, and
+we shall all be so happy.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard had laid himself at full length on the grass, amusing himself,
+whilst his sister spoke, with kicking his legs. He was trying with all
+his might and main to harden himself against what she said; and
+succeeded in making himself as stupid as a mere brick.</p>
+
+<p>"When she pressed him to run to his father, he drew up his legs and lay
+with his knees above all the rest of him, and his eyes staring up to
+the tree above his head, so that an owl could not have looked more
+stupid.<!-- Page 350 --></p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla felt more sad than she had done before, when she saw how
+determined he was not to listen to her. She knew not what next to do or
+say; but whilst she was thinking, a dog was heard to bark on the other
+side the hedge which was behind them, and a voice saying, 'Be quiet,
+Pincher.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, that is Stephen,' cried Bernard, jumping on his feet; 'what can
+he be doing here?'</p>
+
+<p>"He flew to the hedge, he sprang up the bank, and called to Stephen,
+who was walking along the path on the other side with his dog Pincher.</p>
+
+<p>"'Stop, stop!' cried Bernard; 'stop and I will come to you. Good-bye,
+Lucilla, you can go home by yourself;' and the next minute the rude boy
+had tumbled over the fence, and was running after Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Bernard little thought what he lost when he refused to listen to
+Lucilla, and what great pleasure he would have gained, had he done what
+she required of him, and run to beg his father's pardon.</p>
+
+<p>"No one can say what a day may bring forth; and who could have foreseen
+the very strange thing which had happened whilst Lucilla and Bernard
+were out that morning? It was an affair of very serious business, which
+must be told: but as most young people hate business, it shall be told
+as shortly as possible.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Low's brother had been a very wild boy, and had run away; so that
+for many years Mr. Low had heard nothing about him. At last he got a
+letter; it was a kind and humble one: in this letter Mr. John Low sent
+word, that after many adventures he had made some money, and bought a
+farm in America, on the banks of the Hudson, above New York; that he
+was doing very well, that he had never married, and only wished that
+his brother would come and see him. Mr. Low had answered this<!-- Page 351 --> letter
+as a brother should do; and every year since, they had written to each
+other, and sent each other presents. But this morning a letter had come
+from Mr. John Low, entreating his brother to come to him, if possible,
+and to bring his family; stating that he had a disease upon him that
+must soon finish his life; and telling him that he had engaged the
+captain of the <i>Dory</i>, who brought the letter, to take him and his
+family back with him to America, he having undertaken to pay all the
+costs. The letter finished with the most earnest entreaties that they
+would all come.</p>
+
+<p>"With Mr. John Low's letter came another from Captain Lewis, of the
+<i>Dory</i>, saying he should go back in less than a fortnight, and pressing
+Mr. Low to attend to his brother's request; adding that he almost
+feared that his friend, Mr. John Low, would hardly be found alive when
+they reached New York.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Low were talking over this letter, and forming their
+plans about it, when their children saw them walking so gravely in the
+wood. They had come to the resolution to go with Captain Lewis, and
+they had a long discourse about Bernard. They resolved at once to take
+Lucilla with them; they wished her to see her uncle, and to see the New
+World, and her company would be pleasant to them; but they had many
+doubts about Bernard. Mr. Low was quite against taking him, and he took
+this occasion to tell his wife that they had both been to blame in
+spoiling him as they had done, and that he considered his present
+ill-behaviour as a punishment which he himself deserved, for having
+suffered his boy to be so spoiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Low had not much to say; she thought her husband was right.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, had Bernard listened to Lucilla, and had he come just at that
+minute before his parents and begged<!-- Page 352 --> pardon for his ill-behaviour, he
+might have changed his father's determination&mdash;for fathers are very
+forgiving&mdash;and then his mother, too, would have been on his side; and
+so he might have got the pleasure of going that long journey into the
+New World.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything was settled after Mr. Low had made up his mind, even before
+Bernard returned; for Stephen was going a long walk to see Meekin's
+father, who was a farmer in the next parish, and Bernard went with him.
+Stephen would not take him, however, till he had come back to where
+Lucilla was, to ask her if she thought Mr. Low would be pleased if he
+took him.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen could speak very properly and well, when it served his turn to
+do so; and Lucilla thought him a very nice person, and to be trusted,
+for he was older than Bernard, by several years, and was often trusted
+to walk with the boys. She could not say that she could give leave, but
+she promised to tell her father where Bernard was gone, and with whom.
+Everything was therefore settled before the spoiled boy came home late
+in the evening. Mr. Low agreed with Mr. Evans that he should take care
+of his church; and as Mr. Evans was going to have his house painted and
+a new schoolroom built, it was also settled that he should come and
+reside at the rectory until Mr. Low returned. Miss Evans was immensely
+pleased at the thought of this. Bernard was to remain under Mr. Evans's
+care; Mr. Low's servants were all to be put on board wages and sent
+home, excepting the gardener. Even nurse was to go to her son, for Mr.
+Low said that nurse was the one who spoiled Bernard most. The boys were
+to have a large laundry, which was in the yard, for their schoolroom,
+and the drying yard for their play-ground; and Mr. Evans and his family
+were to come in the day Mr. Low left.<!-- Page 353 --></p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Low had also to ask leave for being absent from his living, and
+Mrs. Low had packing to do; so that there was a vast deal to get
+through, for it was necessary for them to be in London, where Captain
+Lewis was, in a very few days.</p>
+
+<p>"As Lucilla, who had not yet heard of all this great bustle, walked
+quietly home, her heart was very sad on account of her brother. She
+came back by the grotto, and took up her work-basket, putting away the
+hermit and the tools and bits of wood in a corner of the little cave
+out of sight; and taking her basket in her hand, she walked towards
+home, thinking to return to her little hermitage the next day at
+latest.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Lucilla could not help shedding a few tears as she passed slowly
+along the shrubbery, to think how all her little plans had ended in
+nothing. She did not just then remember that verse, 'Cast thy bread
+upon the waters, and after many days thou shalt find it.'"</p>
+
+<a name="image_353"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>He took up a slip of wood.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_344_text">Page 344</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/353.png" border="0" width="278" height="335" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 354 -->
+<h3><a name="Third_Part_of_the_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low" id="Third_Part_of_the_History_of_Little_Bernard_Low"></a>Third Part of the History of Little Bernard Low</h3>
+
+<a name="image_354"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/354.png" border="0" width="574" height="327" ALT="There was no end of the indulgences given in private to the boy"></div>
+
+<h4><i>THIRD PART OF HENRY'S STORY</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"As</span> this history has been very long, and there is more to write about
+it, we will not say much of what happened the next seven days; for both
+houses, that is, Mr. Low's and Mr. Evans's, were all in a bustle, and
+everybody was pleased at the changes which were coming. Even Bernard,
+after he had roared, and cried, and sulked for the first two days, had
+altered his manner, and taken up the behaviour of Harry in the old
+spelling-book&mdash;what we may call the don't-care behaviour&mdash;for, as he
+told nurse, if his father did not love him enough to take the trouble
+of him in the voyage he was taking, he did not care, not he; he should
+be very happy at home without him. He should cry no more: he wondered
+why he cried at first, for he had not cared all the while; and so he
+went whistling about the house the tune of the 'Jolly Miller' which he
+had heard Ralph sing:<!-- Page 355 --></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'There was a jolly miller once<br></span>
+<span class="i4">Lived on the River Dee;<br></span>
+<span class="i2">He work'd and sang from morn till night,<br></span>
+<span class="i4">No man so blithe as he.<br></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'And this the burden of his song<br></span>
+<span class="i4">For ever used to be&mdash;<br></span>
+<span class="i2">I care for nobody, no, not I,<br></span>
+<span class="i4">And nobody cares for me.'<br></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Bernard, however, did not let his father hear him whistling this tune,
+nor did he say, 'I don't care,' before him.</p>
+
+<p>"The Monday following that in which he had walked with Lucilla was the
+day fixed for the many changes. Very early in the morning, nurse's son
+brought a donkey for his mother. The old woman cried, and said she
+should have no peace till she came back again, and told Mrs. Low that
+she was sure she should never live in comfort with her son's wife Joan.
+She kissed Bernard twenty times, and begged him to come and see her;
+and Bernard did his best not to cry. There was an early breakfast, but
+nobody sat at the table two minutes together; something was to be done
+every moment. Mr. Low walked in and out five or six times. The
+housemaid and the cook came in to say good-bye; they were going to walk
+to their homes; and Ralph was to go with his sister, the cook. People,
+too, were coming with packages from Mr. Evans's, and the bustle kept
+Bernard from thinking very deeply on what was going to happen; and yet
+he could not eat his breakfast, nor whistle, for he was not in his
+usual spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"At length the chaise came from the inn, and the trunks were brought
+down to be fastened on.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard placed himself at the window to look at what was being done
+without; and again he felt the same choking he had had on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>"He heard his mother say, 'When shall we start, my dear?' and his
+father answer, 'In less than half an hour.'<!-- Page 356 --> He saw his mother look at
+him with tears in her eyes. He could bear it no longer&mdash;he rushed out
+into the shrubbery, and having got behind a laurestinus, he gave full
+way to his tears&mdash;he could not then say, 'Who cares?'</p>
+
+<p>"Lucilla saw him run out and followed him; she was weeping very
+bitterly; she threw her arms round him, and they both cried together.
+She kissed him many times, and they would not have parted then, had
+they not heard themselves called. Lucilla hastily then put a very
+pretty little Bible in his hand, and gave him another kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"There only remained a tender parting between the boy and his parents;
+and whilst they were still blessing him they were driven away, and the
+poor child was left standing alone on the gravel. His eyes followed the
+carriage as long as it could be seen from that place; and then,
+observing some people coming in at the gate, he ran away. He took the
+path through the shrubbery, and across a field, to a high green bank,
+from which he could trace the road a long way, even as far off as where
+it passed under the round hill with the clump of firs on it, near to
+nurse's son's house.</p>
+
+<p>"He sat down on the bank, waiting until the carriage should come in
+sight again: for when it got down into the bottom of the valley, where
+there were many trees, it was hid from his view.</p>
+
+<p>"This was perhaps the first time in Bernard's life in which he ever had
+any really useful thoughts. He was made then to have some little notion
+that he owed his present trouble to his having been a very<a name="tn_pg_392"></a><!--TN:
+Original reads "vrey"--> rebellious naughty boy; but with this good
+thought came also a bad one: 'But if papa loves me as he ought to do,
+he would not have been so cruel as to leave me. He would have forgiven
+me and overlooked the past, and tried me again.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard did not consider that it would actually have<!-- Page 357 --> been very
+dangerous to have taken a disobedient boy to sea, for no one could tell
+what mischief he might have got into on board ship.</p>
+
+<p>"When Bernard saw the carriage again, it looked like a speck on the
+white road. The speck seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and at last
+it disappeared round the foot of the little hill. Then the poor boy
+cried and cried again, until he could cry no longer, and every tear
+seemed to be dried up.</p>
+
+<p>"No one can say how long he sat there, but it was a long time; at last
+he heard a voice, saying, 'Master Low! Master Low! where are you?' and
+the next minute old Jacob, the gardener, appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Now Jacob was the only servant who had not helped to spoil Bernard,
+and therefore Bernard had never liked him, but always called him cross
+old Jacob. He was glad, however, to see him then; and yet he did not
+speak first to him.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am glad I have found you, Master,' said the old man; 'I have been
+hunting you everywhere; and so has Mr. Evans. They be all come&mdash;Miss
+Grizzy herself, and the two maids, and Master Stephen, and a power of
+traps; and the lad that cleans the shoes and knives. But I shan't let
+him meddle with the horses, which he is forward enough to do. But you
+must come along with me. Master; they are all in trouble about you.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Surely,' said Bernard, forgetting that one good thought which he had
+had a little before, 'I may go anywhere I please on my own papa's
+grounds; everything here is papa's, Jacob, and I am at home here.'</p>
+
+<p>"'True,' replied Jacob, 'and so am I too; but neither you nor I is
+master here.'</p>
+
+<p>"'That is just like you, Jacob,' answered Bernard; 'but I am the
+master's son, and you are a servant.'<!-- Page 358 --></p>
+
+<p>"'I could answer you from Scripture,' said Jacob, 'if I would.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do then!' cried Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing
+from a servant, though he be lord of all; but is under tutors and
+governors until the time appointed of the father' (Gal. iv. 1, 2).</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard made no answer to this, but, getting up, walked before Jacob
+to the house. At the door he was met by Mr. Evans, who spoke to him
+kindly, said he hoped to make him happy, and to do everything for his
+good in his father's absence. He added also that Griffith and Meekin
+and Price were come, and were in the laundry, which was then to be
+called the schoolroom; but that he should not call any of them that day
+to lessons; only he hoped that he would not go far from the house, as
+he was now accountable for his safety.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans then walked away, and Bernard went to his own room, where he
+had much difficulty to prevent himself from crying again; but happening
+to light upon some penny pictures and a pair of scissors, he amused
+himself with cutting them all to pieces; first cutting out the figures,
+then the houses, and then the trees, till he had spoiled them all.</p>
+
+<p>"At one o'clock the bell rang for dinner. Bernard did not stir till
+somebody had had the trouble of coming up to call him. The dinner was
+laid in the family dining-room. Miss Grizzy was seated at the head of
+the table when Bernard came in; she was in very good humour, and smart
+as usual. Mr. Evans was in Mr. Low's place at the bottom; the boys on
+each side.</p>
+
+<p>"'Master Low,' said Miss Evans, as he came in, 'I hope you are well;
+here we are, you see, in your papa's handsome room, and here is your
+chair by me. I don't ask<!-- Page 359 --> you to sit down, for who has such a right to
+sit here as you have? Make room, Meekin. Surely there is room enough at
+this large table? Sit a little lower, Griffith; and now, Master Low,
+what shall we give you?'</p>
+
+<p>"All that was proud and selfish in the heart of poor Bernard was awake
+and busy long before Miss Evans had finished her speech. The boy looked
+round the table for what he liked best; but instead of asking, told the
+servant to take his plate for it, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't give me fat, I don't like it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No fat for Master Low,' cried Miss Evans: and then again speaking to
+the boy, 'You have a charming house here, Master Low; I had no notion
+how good it was till I went over it this morning. I tell the young
+gentlemen here that they must be very careful not to do mischief.'</p>
+
+<p>"'They cannot do any, sister,' said Mr. Evans, 'if they keep to their
+places. They must not go into the garden, there is abundant room for
+them to play in elsewhere, and they shall have as much fruit as is good
+for them. Mind, boys, on honour, no going into the garden. You shall
+not need, for as Mr. Low kindly leaves us the use of the fruit, you
+shall have your full share.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You hear, young gentlemen,' said Miss Evans; 'Master Meekin, Master
+Griffith, Master Price&mdash;&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>"'And Master Low,' added Mr. Evans, 'you are, on honour, not to go into
+the garden.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Master Low!' repeated Miss Grizzy; 'Master Low not to go into his
+papa's garden?'</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans never disputed with his sister before the boys, and not,
+indeed, very often when alone with her, for he loved peace and
+quietness, and she would always have many last words; so he said no
+more; and she, tapping Bernard gently on the back, said, in a low
+voice:<!-- Page 360 --></p>
+
+<p>"'That would be hard, would not it, to keep you out of your dear papa's
+own garden?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I should think so,' answered Bernard, in the same low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"This was only the beginning; and as Miss Grizzy went on as she had
+begun, in setting up Bernard, and flattering him to the very utmost in
+her power, there is much reason to fear that he was not likely to be
+the better for being left with her.</p>
+
+<p>"Griffith, with his friends Meekin and Price, would soon have given him
+a lesson or two of another kind, had not Stephen watched them; but
+Stephen had been well tutored by his aunt, and as much was gained them
+from Mr. Low's friendship, besides the honour of having Master Low at
+school, they cared for nothing so much as keeping the naughty boy in
+good humour.</p>
+
+<p>"As to Mr. Evans, he was a simple, earnest man, not suspecting evil of
+others, and anxious to do good. He was kind to all his pupils; he never
+made a difference: and it was for his sake that any boys remained in
+the house; so that he really caused the family to prosper, whilst his
+sister fancied it was all her own doing.</p>
+
+<p>"The next day Mr. Evans began to give his lessons; and kept them on
+most regularly till the Midsummer holidays. He was not aware that
+Bernard had any other indulgence but being helped first at table, which
+he did not quite like; and he kept him as close as the others at his
+lessons.</p>
+
+<p>"But Miss Grizzy, and Stephen, and Bernard were too deep for him; and
+there was no end of the indulgences given in private to the boy. He had
+cakes, and puffs, and strawberries and cream given him, when nobody saw
+it, by Miss Evans.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen never took notice when he went beyond<!-- Page 361 --> bounds unless his uncle
+was likely to catch him. He helped him privately at his lessons; and
+when set to hear him, often let him slip them altogether; and always
+took his part when there was a quarrel between him and the other boys.
+The holidays made but little difference with Bernard. Mr. Evans gave
+him a daily lesson, because he wanted to get him on. And as to other
+things, he could not be more spoiled and stuffed by Miss Grizzy at one
+time than at another.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy all this while disliked him as much as Stephen did, and
+that was with their whole hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen called him a little proud, insolent puppy. And Miss Evans said
+he was the most greedy child she ever saw, and so wasteful and
+thankless, and one of the worst-mannered boys she ever had to deal
+with.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen said the same to Meekin and Griffith and Price; he laid all
+the partiality with which they charged him on his aunt, and said he
+only wished he could have his way with him, and he would soon bring
+down his airs, and teach him what he was made of.</p>
+
+<p>"The same boys met again after the holidays, and things went on much in
+the same way.</p>
+
+<p>"Several letters were received from Mr. Low from different places; at
+length one came, stating their arrival in New York, and their being
+about to go up the Hudson to Mr. John Low's house.</p>
+
+<p>"The great indulgence with which Bernard was treated, and the bustle
+that was made about him, together with the real kindness of Mr. Evans,
+made him very hard and careless about his parents.</p>
+
+<p>"He used often to say, 'I do very well here; if papa stays longer than
+he at first intended I shall not fret after him, and I dare say he will
+not fret after me, for if he had loved me so very much he would not
+have left me behind.'<!-- Page 362 --></p>
+
+<p>"Bernard could not forgive his father for leaving him; but whenever he
+talked in this way not even Stephen could keep Griffith from speaking
+his mind to him.</p>
+
+<p>"'There you go again,' Griffith would say; 'always blaming your father,
+when the fault is all your own. Don't you know, Bernard, that there is
+nobody that can bear with you who thinks they have not something to get
+by you?'</p>
+
+<p>"The name Noddy, which Stephen had forbidden, was got up again after
+the Midsummer holidays; and everything that Bernard did to make himself
+disagreeable was set down to this Noddy.</p>
+
+<p>"At last Bernard got to the truth of this matter by being told by
+Meekin that if he wished to see Noddy, he must take a peep in the
+looking-glass. On hearing this, Bernard struck Meekin, and if Stephen
+had not come in, the spoiled boy for once would have got his deserts.</p>
+
+<p>"Letters were again received from Mr. Low about December; he said in
+them that his poor brother was very ill, not likely to live through the
+winter; that it was impossible for him to leave him, and that at all
+events he meant to stay till the season for crossing the sea should be
+better. Lucilla at the same time wrote a long letter to her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"The Christmas holidays passed, and nothing particular happened; the
+same boys met again after Christmas, and another boy came also; but
+Bernard despised him as much as he did Meekin and Griffith and Price,
+because he had heard it said that his father kept a shop.</p>
+
+<p>"January passed, and February, and March; another letter had come from
+Mr. Low; poor Mr. John Low was dead, and Mr. Low was busy settling his
+affairs. Mr. John Low had left his brother a good deal of money, but
+Mr. Low did not say anything about that; Miss Grizzy therefore made it
+out that there was none.<!-- Page 363 --></p>
+
+<p>"Another letter arrived at the end of March to say that Captain Lewis
+was to sail for England in the <i>Dory</i> in a few days, and that Mr. Low
+hoped to come with him. There was another sweet letter from Lucilla,
+telling how many pretty things she had collected for her dear brother.</p>
+
+<p>"It was about four weeks after these two last letters had been
+received, when one morning Mr. Evans came in a great hurry, and with a
+face of much trouble, into the school-room, and called out Stephen.
+Stephen came back five minutes afterwards, and told the boys that his
+uncle had been called suddenly away, and they had leave to play.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good news&mdash;good news!' cried Griffith, and away ran the four pupils,
+with Stephen after them; whilst Bernard went into the house to see what
+he could get.</p>
+
+<p>"As he came into the hall he saw that the parlour door was open, and he
+heard people talking within. Miss Grizzy was in the parlour, and she
+was talking to a neighbour who had dropped in. The coming of that
+neighbour, Bernard thought, had something to do with the holiday so
+suddenly given, and by listening he thought he might find something out
+about this holiday.</p>
+
+<p>"The words Bernard heard were these:</p>
+
+<p>"'I know, Mrs. Smith, better than most, that the family had nothing to
+depend upon but the living. To be sure, the living is very good, and
+much might be saved out of it for the children, but if what we hear is
+true they will come but poorly off, I fear.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You forget, Miss Evans,' answered Mrs. Smith, 'that if what we hear
+be true&mdash;and I fear it is&mdash;there is only one left to provide for.'</p>
+
+<p>"As Bernard drew closer to the door to hear more, he knocked his foot
+against it, and Miss Grizzy called out:<!-- Page 364 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Who is there?'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard walked into the parlour at the call, in his usual manner, and
+without taking any notice of Mrs. Smith, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"'I want some bread and butter.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What, already?' cried Miss Grizzy tartly; 'don't you see that I am
+talking business with my neighbour, Master Low? Come, you had best go
+to play, and mind to shut the door after you.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard looked at her with a look which seemed to say, 'What's the
+matter now?' and walked away, leaving the door as wide open as he could
+push it.</p>
+
+<p>"He walked into the garden, but old Jacob was not there, and then he
+went to the back of the house to look for the other boys. He had heard
+their voices at a distance, when he got there, and saw them in the very
+field where he had sat with Lucilla. Their voices came straight over
+the valley; but it was a long way to go, down first and up again, to
+them. However, he set out to go, and in his way had to pass by the door
+of a cottage near the brook. In this cottage lived an old woman, who
+had been supported for some years by his father's family, though she
+could do little in return. She was sitting on the step, with her face
+on her knees, crying bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"'What now, Betty?' said Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ah, Master Low!' she said, looking up, 'is it you, my precious
+master, and do you say, what's the matter now? Have not they told you?
+The hardened creatures to keep such news from you!'</p>
+
+<p>"And she then told him the real cause of the breaking up of the school,
+the absence of Mr. Evans and Jacob, and the visit of Mrs. Smith. News
+had come that day to Rookdale, that the <i>Dory</i> had been lost at sea,
+and gone down with every creature on board: having been seen to<!-- Page 365 -->
+founder by some other vessel, in a dreadful squall off some island.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans had gone immediately to discover the truth of this account,
+which was in a newspaper. It is not known where he went, or to whom he
+wrote letters; but this is certain, that he only obtained confirmation
+of the dreadful news, and as weeks passed, and nothing was heard from
+Mr. Low or of the <i>Dory</i>, every one, of course, believed that poor
+Bernard was an orphan.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy began to think where the money was to come from to pay for
+Bernard's keep; for what had been said was very true, Mr. Low had had
+little to depend upon but his living; or if he had saved anything, it
+could not be known where his savings were, till his papers could be
+looked up, and that could not be done until it was as certain as might
+be that he was really dead.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Bernard!&mdash;now his time of trial had come: he was quite unprepared
+for the story old Betty told him. Mr. Evans had wished it might for the
+present be kept from him. He fell down like one struck with death when
+he heard the story.</p>
+
+<p>"The old woman screamed; at her cry, Stephen and the boys, who were not
+far off, came running to her; more help was called, Bernard was lifted
+up, and carried to the house and put to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"When laid on his bed, it was found that the sudden shock had made him
+very ill, and there was fear of inflammation of the brain. The doctor
+was sent for, he was bled more than once, his head was shaved, and a
+large blister put upon it. He was reduced to be as weak as a baby: he
+called often, when he knew not what he said, for his father and his
+mother, and his own sweet Lucilla; and when he recollected that he had
+heard they were dead, he called for his nurse.<!-- Page 366 --></p>
+
+<p>"Nurse came the moment she heard of his illness; but Mr. Evans was not
+come home, he was absent more than ten days, and Miss Grizzy would not
+let nurse see him.<a name="tn_pg_402"></a><!-- TN: Period added--> In grief and anger the old woman went home, and took
+to her bed almost as ill as poor Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy was the person who watched by Bernard's bed, and saw that
+everything the doctor ordered was done; but Bernard fancied she was not
+the same Miss Grizzy that used to smile upon him and flatter him in
+past times, she looked so grave, and said so often, 'That <i>must</i> be
+done, Master Low.'</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard, however, did not think much about her; his whole mind was
+filled, till his head got well, with thoughts of his parents and
+sister, and even of his little brothers, whom he had never seen. And in
+this time of suffering and weakness he began to be sincerely sorry for
+his past naughtiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans came back without any hope respecting Mr. Low. He was very
+much grieved, especially for Bernard, and showed his kindness by
+visiting him often in his room; and when the boy was better, another
+friend showed himself; this was Griffith, who had made up his mind
+never again to quiz Bernard so long as he lived. He came often to him,
+and even read to him in the Bible Lucilla had given. Jacob too showed
+his deep affection for his little master. But Jacob himself was soon
+afterwards taken ill, and Miss Grizzy contrived that he should be sent
+away till he got better. So Bernard was made to feel that those were
+not his real friends who flattered him when all seemed to be well with
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Time passed on, Bernard's health was restored, and he was able to come
+down as usual. He went down to dinner the first day on a Sunday. He had
+been well enough to go down the Monday before, but Miss Grizzy<!-- Page 367 --> had
+fixed on Sunday for the day; perhaps because her brother, who had two
+churches to serve, would not be at dinner. When Bernard came into the
+room, he looked at the place where he used to sit, but Master Larkin,
+the new pupil, was in it. There was a place kept for him by Stephen at
+the bottom of the table.</p>
+
+<p>"'You are older than Larkin, Low,' said Stephen, 'and must give up the
+place of pet to him.' Bernard sat down. He did not just then understand
+the reason of being put out of his place&mdash;he had this to learn amongst
+other things. He was not asked what he would like, but helped in his
+turn; and when dinner was over, he was not asked if he would like to
+stay in the parlour, but told, if he felt tired, to go and lie on his
+own bed. At tea he was treated like the other boys, and at supper also,
+and from that time this went on. If Mr. Evans saw it, he did not
+interfere; but this good man was very absent, and many things passed
+before him which he did not notice.</p>
+
+<p>"After a few days, one would have thought that Miss Evans and her
+nephew had ceased to care altogether about Bernard's feelings; they
+began to talk before him of who was to have the house and living, and
+that it was necessary to take great care of the house and furniture;
+and Bernard was told that he must not run rampaging about as he had
+done formerly; for, as Miss Grizzy said, there was little enough left,
+she feared, for his maintenance, and there was no need to make things
+worse.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a hard lesson for the spoiled boy to be taught to be patient
+under these mortifications, and never to fire up and answer these cruel
+hints; but he was patient, he bore much and said little. He felt that
+he deserved to be humbled in this way, and he tried to be submissive.</p>
+
+<p>"Another month or six weeks went, and Bernard had only two earthly
+comforts: one was from the gentleness<!-- Page 368 --> of Mr. Evans, and the other from
+the rough kindness of Griffith, who gave Meekin a sound drubbing one
+day for calling Bernard Noddy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why,' said Meekin, 'did not <i>you</i> give him the name?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I did,' answered Griffith; 'but he shan't hear it now, never again.'</p>
+
+<p>"The season of Whitsuntide had come round, and the boys were to go home
+for a week, and only Meekin, Low, and Stephen were left. The bells were
+not set to ring as usual on Sunday morning; the ringers were thoughtful
+enough to refuse to ring; but Stephen was resolved to have a peal, and
+he and Meekin and the big boy who worked about the place, and one other
+whom they contrived to muster, had one peal on the Sunday, and several
+others on the Monday.</p>
+
+<p>"The return of Whitsuntide made Bernard more unhappy than he had been
+for many days. He remembered that time a year ago so very exactly, and
+what everybody had then said and done&mdash;his own bad behaviour
+especially. He had a very sad Sunday, and got up even more sad on the
+Monday morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy had put him out of his old sleeping-room after his
+recovery, into a little room which looked over the stable yard. Before
+he was dressed he heard talking in the yard. He dressed in haste, and
+ran to the window, and there he saw just below him a young man called
+Benjamin, the same who had helped to ring the bells with Stephen and
+Meekin and the servant boy&mdash;all gathered together examining Lucilla's
+pony. Bernard could not hear what they said, and the bell rang for
+breakfast before he had time to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"When he came down, he was sorry to find that Mr. Evans was gone out.
+He asked Meekin how long he was to stay from home; and Stephen
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>"'Maybe all the week; maybe a month; maybe he<!-- Page 369 --> wishes to try what sort
+of a schoolmaster I should make in his absence.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh! I hope not,' said Bernard, speaking hastily and without thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"'You do, do you?' answered Stephen spitefully; 'well, we shall see.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It don't become you, Low, to speak in such a way now,' said Miss
+Grizzy, 'you are not master here, now. You can't count upon this place
+being yours more than my brother's any longer; it is just as well that
+you know the truth, and know at once what to expect. The living went
+from the family when your father died, and it is feared that there will
+not be much left for your keep when the things are sold, and everything
+paid.'</p>
+
+<p>"The tears stood in Bernard's eyes&mdash;not that he attended to all the
+words Miss Grizzy said; he was thinking of that day a year ago, of his
+own ill behaviour, and of the kindness of his sweet Lucilla.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh!' he thought, 'how could I have run away from my gentle sister to
+go to that cruel Stephen?'</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen and Meekin walked off in a hurry, after they had breakfasted,
+and Miss Grizzy sent Bernard after them. He followed them slowly, and
+yet did not like to stay long behind them.</p>
+
+<p>"They were gone again into the yard, and there was Benjamin, and the
+servant boy, and the pony. Stephen was talking of the pony, and giving
+his orders: the pony had a long tail, and his mane wanted putting in
+order.</p>
+
+<p>"'You must dock the tail close, Ben,' were the words that Bernard
+heard; 'she will sell for nothing in that fashion.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, no, no!' cried Bernard, running forward, 'Lucilla would not like
+it; she said she would always have it long to flitch away the flies.'<!-- Page 370 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Who bid you speak?' said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is she not my horse now?' cried Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'No more yours than mine,' replied Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't cut her tail, Benjamin,' returned Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Hold your peace,' said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"'Only stay till Mr. Evans comes home,' said Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Do it now,' said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard was beside himself; he called Stephen cruel, deceitful, and
+anything else he could think of, and he tried to seize the halter of
+the pony.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen dragged him away, and in the scuffle thought Bernard had
+struck him; Meekin swore that he did.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen, when set up, was furiously passionate, and without taking
+time for thought, he snatched a switch from the hand of Ben, and laid
+it on Bernard till his back and even the sides of his face were covered
+with wheals. The poor boy ran, and Stephen after him. Stephen was even
+the more provoked because Benjamin cried to him to desist.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard at last got away from him by a little gate which led into the
+garden, and he continued to run until he had come to the arbour and the
+grotto. He had never gone to that corner of the shrubbery since the
+news had come of the loss of the <i>Dory</i>; and at first, when he almost
+dropped down on one of the benches, he scarcely recollected where he
+was. He was seated exactly where he had sat with Lucilla on the last
+Whitsun-Monday. The mouth of the grotto was exactly before him; the
+winter's wind had driven the dead damp leaves into it, and there had
+been no one to clear them away. The highest point of the little window
+in the back, which Lucilla herself had painted on a piece of board,
+just peeped above the heap of leaves. Bernard thought of the tools
+Lucilla had bought; they were lying, no doubt, rusting in a corner.<!-- Page 371 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, Lucilla!' he cried; and bursting into tears, he laid his hands on
+the table, and stooped his face upon them: the board was quite wet with
+his tears when he looked up again.</p>
+
+<p>"He was startled by the sudden ringing out of the bells. Stephen and
+the boys had gone to cool themselves in the belfry, after leaving the
+pony undocked in the field.</p>
+
+<p>"How did those bells remind the unhappy boy of the year before, for he
+had heard them when sitting in that very place with Lucilla! He
+remembered his hardness and pride at that time, and like the Prodigal
+Son to his father, he cried to his God, 'I have sinned against heaven
+and before Thee, and am not worthy to be called Thy son.'</p>
+
+<p>"Could Lucilla have foreknown in what spirit her dear brother would
+have spoken those words in that place, at the end of twelve months
+after she had brought him there, she would have been filled with joy,
+and would have said, 'My God, I thank Thee, for Thou hast heard my
+prayers.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Bernard was getting more calm, his tears were made to flow again
+by the sight of the broken splinters and one of Lucilla's beads on the
+gravel at his feet. He took up the bead, wrapped it in a bit of paper,
+put it into his waistcoat pocket, and went out of the shrubbery by the
+wicket close by into the wood.</p>
+
+<p>"As he walked along his wandering eye at last settled upon that spot of
+ground, at the foot of the round hill with the crown of fir-trees,
+where the carriage which had taken away his parents had disappeared. He
+thought then of his nurse, and that she had been one of those to whom
+he had behaved ill.</p>
+
+<p>"'Poor nurse!' he said to himself, 'I will go to beg her pardon, and I
+will get her to let me live with her, and never let me come back to
+this place again. Nurse will<!-- Page 372 --> give me bread, and I shall want nothing
+else. I will go;' and he got up and looked to see which was the
+shortest way to get to the round hill. When he fancied he had made this
+out, he got up and set off slowly, for by this time the stripes given
+him by the switch had got stiff; but he had set his mind on going to
+nurse's, and, indeed, he did not dare to go home.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a long and dreary way did he find it! The first half-mile was
+tolerably level, but the next two miles and a half were all uphill,
+only with a very little going down sometimes. The sun was shining
+without clouds, and his bones were sore, and he was getting hungry; and
+what was worse than all, his heart was very sad, and the road was
+solitary. He scarcely met anyone, excepting a party of people with
+asses; still he often caught sight of the round hill, and found himself
+getting nearer to it: he thought it looked higher, and higher, and
+higher as he went on, and he had to go beyond it. It was quite noonday
+before he reached the foot of it; and there he had to ask a man, who
+was breaking stones on the road, the nearest way to the common. The man
+showed him a deep lane a little further, up which he was to go, and
+when he had got to the end of it, he saw the common and the
+rabbit-burrows, and sheep, and geese, and many cottages. He asked at
+many doors before he could learn where nurse lived; but when he saw her
+house he was pleased, because it looked larger and neater than the
+others, and he thought there would be room for him. It stood in a
+pretty garden, surrounded with a neat quickset hedge, nicely shorn.</p>
+
+<p>"He opened the wicket-gate without fear, and walked up to the door. He
+saw a neat kitchen within, for the door was half open; he knocked, and
+called, 'Is nurse at home?' No one answered at first, but soon he heard
+a step, and nurse's daughter-in-law appeared.<!-- Page 373 --></p>
+
+<p>"She was a tall, hard-looking woman, and the first words she said,
+were:</p>
+
+<p>"'Surely it is not you, Master Low, and in such a plight? Why, you have
+been a-fighting.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I want nurse,' said Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'What, mother-in-law?' answered the woman; 'you can't see her.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why?' answered Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'She is sick in bed,' said the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let me go up and see her, if you please,' said Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'You can't do no such thing,' said the woman; 'she is not in the
+house, and if she was she could not have much to say to you. Has not
+Miss Grizzy forbid her to come about you? and times are hard, Master
+Low. You has run away from school, I doubt not, by the look of you. You
+has been a-fighting. Don't think that we shall go to harbour you here,
+and get nothing but cross words for our pains. Miss Grizzy told mother
+that there would be nothing a-coming to you when all was paid. So go
+back as fast as you can; you can't come in. Go back, there's a good
+lad.'</p>
+
+<p>"She then, in her great goodness, handed him a crust and a bit of dry
+cheese, and pushed him from the door; for she was afraid that her
+husband and his mother, who were both out, might come in before the
+child was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard hardly knew what he did when he took the bread and cheese, and
+felt the hand of the woman pushing him out. He could not eat what was
+given him, for he was parched with thirst, and his young heart was
+almost broken by his disappointment. Even to nurse he had behaved ill,
+and now he thought that even she had forsaken him. He dragged himself
+back through the deep lane, and being again in the highroad at the foot
+of the<!-- Page 374 --> hill, he sat, or rather stretched, himself on a green bank
+under a hedge; and having cried again till he could cry no longer, he
+fell into a sort of stupor, neither asleep nor otherwise, quite worn
+with tiredness, and thirst, and sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"About the time when Bernard was turned from nurse's door, the
+dinner-bell at his papa's house was ringing, and Miss Evans waiting at
+the head of the table ready to carve.</p>
+
+<p>"Before the bell had done tinkling, Stephen and Meekin came in, and
+Miss Grizzy said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Where is Low? I suppose he does not expect us to wait for him.'</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen looked at Meekin, and Meekin looked at Stephen. Stephen was
+not quite easy in the thought of the severe beating which he had given
+Bernard; but as it was expected that Mr. Evans would not return till
+the evening of the next day, he trusted that there would be nothing
+about Bernard to lead his uncle to inquire about what had happened in
+his absence.</p>
+
+<p>"'The boy is sulking somewhere,' he thought, 'and when he is hungry he
+will show himself;' and with this thought he went to the bottom of the
+table; and they had all just seated themselves, when in walked Mr.
+Evans.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy set up a shriek of wonder, and Stephen turned scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans had set out with the intention of going to the Bishop, under
+whom he and Mr. Low lived, to ask him about some little difficulty
+which had arisen in the management of the parish, and to beg that
+things might remain as they were, until more decided news could be got
+of the loss of the ship.</p>
+
+<p>"The worthy man was not thinking of himself, but of poor Bernard. He
+had hardly gone ten miles of the thirty<!-- Page 375 --> he had to go, when he met the
+Bishop's coach, and had the opportunity of settling his business in a
+few minutes. And what had he then to do but to stop at a little inn by
+the wayside to refresh his horse, and go quietly home, much pleased by
+the kindness of the Bishop?</p>
+
+<p>"When he had, in a few words, explained how it happened that he was at
+home so soon, he was preparing to sit down to dinner, when he missed
+Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"'Where is Master Low?' he said, looking round. 'Where is Bernard,
+sister? Stephen, where is the child?'</p>
+
+<p>"There was a certain something in the flushed features and stammering
+answers of Stephen which struck even the unsuspicious Mr. Evans, and
+when he was once roused he could show great firmness. He insisted that
+the little boy should appear; and when he did not answer to any call,
+or to the repeated ringing of the bell, he ordered the dinner away.</p>
+
+<p>"'No one in the house shall dine, sister Grizzy,'<a name="tn_pg_411"></a><!-- TN: Single quote added--> he said, 'till the
+orphan is found. Mind what I say. Do you, boys, run in all directions;
+let the women go also, and bring the poor child to me. You, Stephen,
+have been quarrelling with him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Sir,' said Meekin, 'he struck Mr. Stephen.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No, Master Meekin,' said the boy who was waiting at table, 'I did not
+see as he did; nor Ben neither, and he was by.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No matter now,' said Mr. Evans; 'be off, all of you, and bring the
+child to me.'</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Evans sat down, having no expectation but that Bernard would
+be brought in, with the tear in his eye, but safe and sound, in a few
+minutes. He waited alone, maybe a quarter of an hour, and then went
+out, becoming more frightened every moment.</p>
+
+<p>"There was a set of people, such as sell pottery,<!-- Page 376 --> happening to pass up
+the road at the minute Mr. Evans went out of the gate; and he bethought
+himself of asking them if they had met a little boy in their way,
+describing Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"The old woman of the party told him that they had met such a boy, and
+told him also exactly where. It struck Mr. Evans at once that the child
+had set out to go to nurse's; and without losing another minute he
+called Tom, ordered him to saddle the pony, and was on his way towards
+nurse's not ten minutes after he had spoken to the old woman. He made
+the pony go at a very brisk trot, wherever the steepness of the road
+would allow.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard had really fallen asleep under the hedge after some time, and
+had only just awakened when Mr. Evans came trotting round the foot of
+the hill.</p>
+
+<p>"The worthy man no sooner saw him than he came almost cantering up,
+sprang from the quiet pony, and caught him in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"'My son! my child!' he said, whilst his eyes filled with tears; 'my
+poor boy, why are you here? What has happened? Do you not know that
+when you lost a better father, you became to me like a son, and that I
+then resolved to be a father to you so long as you needed one? If
+anything goes wrong with you, my boy, under my roof, come to me and
+tell me, as you would have done to your own father, and be sure that so
+long as I have a loaf you shall have a son's portion of it.'</p>
+
+<p>"No one can describe the effect of Mr. Evans's kindness on the heart of
+poor Bernard; again and again he fell on his neck and kissed him; and
+so full of love and gentleness was the child that he whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't ask me why I ran away; I promise you that when I run again from
+the same people, I will run to you;<!-- Page 377 --> and if you are out, I will only
+hide myself till you come back.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It shall not happen again,' said Mr. Evans, who had observed the
+marks of the strokes on the child's face; 'it shall not happen again; I
+will prevent it; but I will ask no questions.'</p>
+
+<p>"So saying, he lifted Bernard on the pony with the long tail, and
+taking the bridle in his hand, they set off together down the hill.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans had gone off in such a hurry that he had not told anyone
+that he had heard of Bernard; and therefore, without planning any such
+thing, he had left the people at home in the greatest trouble, their
+alarm becoming more and more every minute in which the child could not
+be found.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Evans and Bernard had first, in their way from the round hill, to
+go down a very steep bit of road, into a kind of hollow where were a
+brook and many trees, and then beyond which was a rise, and then
+another deep descent. When Bernard came to the brook, he begged that he
+might get off and drink a little water in the hollow of his hand; and
+when he had done so, he tried to make Mr. Evans mount the pony whilst
+he walked. But the kind man would not hear of any such thing; he lifted
+Bernard on the horse again, and they were just going to ascend the
+bank, when they heard a voice behind them, crying: 'Stop, stop, Master
+Bernard.'</p>
+
+<p>"They looked back, and there was nurse; she had come home about an hour
+before, and having heard by some chance who had been at the cottage and
+been sent away, she had had a violent quarrel with her daughter-in-law,
+and had come posting after her boy.</p>
+
+<p>"But before Mr. Evans and Bernard knew the voice, there was a sound of
+carriage-wheels coming from behind<!-- Page 378 --> nurse; and so quick upon her was
+the carriage, that the horses' heads were in a line with her, when
+Bernard and Mr. Evans turned to see who called them. The road just
+there was not only steep but narrow.</p>
+
+<p>"'That is nurse,' said Mr. Evans; 'but we must not stop just here, or
+the carriage will be upon us; a little above there is room for the pony
+to stand aside, and the ground is there more level for the feet.'</p>
+
+<p>"So for the next minute or more the three parties all went on, Mr.
+Evans and Bernard going up slowly towards the level place; the carriage
+coming rapidly down the road, being drawn by horses used to steeper
+hills than that; and nurse behind at the top of her speed after the
+carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"Those in the carriage had known nurse as they passed, though she never
+once looked up to them; and they knew also Bernard, and good Mr. Evans,
+and the long-tailed pony.</p>
+
+<p>"When Mr. Evans had reached the bit of level ground, which might have
+been fifty feet, or more, from the bottom of the valley, he stopped,
+and lifted Bernard off the pony to wait for nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"The carriage, too, stopped at the brook, and there was a cry from it.
+'Bernard, Bernard! It is our dear, dear Bernard; open the door, open
+the door.' The door was burst open from within, and out sprang Lucilla,
+flying forward to her brother. She was followed by Mr. and Mrs. Low, as
+soon as the postboy could let down the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Bernard made one effort to rush to meet Lucilla, and then fell
+unconscious upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible to give an account of such a scene; the people who
+were present could tell nothing about it themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Low
+and Lucilla could not<!-- Page 379 --> understand why everyone should be so surprised
+to see them; why Bernard should faint, why nurse should scream, and why
+Mr. Evans should look so white.</p>
+
+<p>"They had suffered much in a terrible storm, and been driven far out of
+their course, and been obliged to lie for months in some far-off
+harbour for repairs, and had had a long and weary voyage. But they had
+written letters, and supposed all this was known at home. The letters,
+however, having been sent from a very out-of-the-way place, had never
+arrived, but this they could not know.</p>
+
+<p>"They were not surprised at anything, when they found that all their
+friends and neighbours had thought them dead; and when Bernard, having
+had his temples bathed with water, opened his eyes and recovered his
+colour, and began to shed tears, they were no longer frightened about
+him. He was then lifted into the carriage, and held in the arms of his
+own father; nurse got upon a trunk behind, Mr. Evans mounted the pony,
+and on they went, having now only down hill to go to the village.</p>
+
+<p>"'Let us pass quietly, if possible, through the village,' said Mr. Low,
+'that we may get our dear boy home as soon as possible;' but Mr. Low
+could not have everything as he wished. The news was told at the very
+first house, which was the turn-pike, by Mr. Evans before the carriage,
+and by nurse behind it; and the whole street was up in a moment. There
+was such joy, that men, women, and children set up shouts; and four
+young men, who were enjoying the Whitsun holidays, flew to the church
+and set the bells a-ringing before the carriage came in sight of the
+rectory.</p>
+
+<p>"'Surely,' said Miss Grizzy to the dairy-maid, 'those lads are not gone
+off to the belfry, and that plague of a boy, young Low, not found yet!
+I always said he was the most ill-conditioned child that ever lived;
+and I<!-- Page 380 --> know now he is only hiding out of malice to my poor Stephen.'</p>
+
+<p>"Before she could finish her speech there was a sound of wheels and of
+horses, and the barking of all the dogs about, and of doors opening;
+and the very next minute in came nurse with the news into the dairy.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy was almost as ready to faint as Bernard had been&mdash;but not
+from pleasure; all her unkindnesses to the child rose before her mind,
+and it was with the greatest difficulty that she could put on even the
+appearance of being glad, whilst her worthy brother's heart was lifted
+up with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"When Stephen heard the news, as he came skulking in to tell his aunt
+he could find Bernard nowhere, he walked himself off with Meekin, and
+did not return till night; but he need not have done so, for Bernard
+never uttered a complaint against him or anybody else, though he spoke
+continually of the very great kindness of Mr. Evans.</p>
+
+<p>"The happiness of Lucilla that evening was complete. Bernard had hardly
+spoken to her before she found how changed he was.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Low was equally thankful; and Mrs. Low and nurse, though they did
+not understand the cause of the change so clearly, yet felt that their
+darling was a new and improved creature. Mr. Low, having it now in his
+power, did much to assist Mr. Evans in many ways; he felt all his
+kindnesses; he helped to furnish his new rooms, and raised his salary
+as a curate.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzy and Stephen left him almost immediately. Miss Grizzy went
+to keep the house of a cross old uncle, and Stephen went to his
+parents. Mr. Evans took nurse for a housekeeper, and whether she
+managed well or ill for him people do not agree; but this is certain,
+that all the boys, especially the little ones, liked her so much that
+Mr.<!-- Page 381 --> Evans soon found even his larger house too small for his pupils.</p>
+
+<p>"The last we heard of Mr. Low's family was that Bernard and Lucilla had
+furnished the grotto so beautifully that every person in the
+neighbourhood came to see it; and that this brother and sister were the
+delight of their parents, and the comforters of every poor old person
+or orphan child in the parish."</p>
+
+<a name="image_381"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<img src="images/381.png" border="0" width="391" height="343" ALT="Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla"></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 382 -->
+<h3><a name="The_Birthday_Feast" id="The_Birthday_Feast"></a>The Birthday Feast</h3>
+
+<a name="image_382"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/382.png" border="0" width="586" height="325" ALT="She only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look well"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"Well,"</span> said Henry Fairchild, "it is just as I knew it would be; <a
+name="tn_pg_418"></a><!--TN: Double quote before "mine" removed.-->mine is the prettiest story, and it is the longest,
+and that is something."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" replied Emily; "if a story is stupid, its being long only
+makes it worse."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is not stupid," says Henry, "as it comes in at the end so
+nicely, and in so much bustle. I do love a story that ends in a great
+bustle."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Emily, "my story finishes with as great a bustle as yours;
+and we <i>must</i> say that Lucy has chosen two very nice books; so, Lucy,
+we thank you with all our hearts."</p>
+
+<p>We have been so busy over the stories which Lucy brought, that we have
+taken no notice of the note and parcel which came from Miss Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>The note was to invite the Misses Fairchild and Master Fairchild to
+spend her birthday with her. She asked them to come very early, and
+they were to come in their playing dresses, and then they could bring
+others with them,<!-- Page 383 --> because in the evening there would be company. She
+offered to send a carriage for them; and she said that a note would
+come to invite their parents to dinner. The little lady seemed to have
+thought of everything to make the day pleasant to them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild's children were not so rich as Miss Darwell, but they
+were as well brought up; and Mrs. Colvin had heard this, and was glad
+to have the opportunity of seeing these children.</p>
+
+<p>The parcel contained a few small presents, which Emily and Lucy thought
+a great deal of, and put by amongst their treasures.</p>
+
+<p>The day of Miss Darwell's birthday came, after what Henry called a very
+long time. Time seems very long to children; they think a month as long
+as old people think a year. Henry talked of a year or two past as of a
+time a long while ago.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily looked out the very first thing that morning to see what
+weather it was; but Henry did more, he got up and went out as soon as
+he heard anyone stir, and saw John cleaning the horse, that he might be
+ready for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after breakfast Mrs. Fairchild got the children ready, <a name="page_383_text"></a>in their
+neatest morning dresses, according to Miss Darwell's desire; meaning to
+bring their evening things when she came. But they were hardly ready
+when a little pony-carriage, driven by a careful old man, came for them
+from Miss Darwell; for this young lady never forgot the chance of doing
+a kindness.</p>
+
+<p>They got into the little carriage, and were driven away. Henry sat by
+the servant in front, and his sisters in the seat behind.</p>
+
+<p>"My little lady," said the servant, "bade us be sure to bring you all
+safely, and very soon, Master Fairchild."<!-- Page 384 --> And then he went on to say
+what a dear, good young lady she was. "But she bade me not tell what is
+to be done this evening; and you are not to ask anybody about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will not," said Henry; "though I want to know very much."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure you do, master,'" said the man; "but you will know
+by-and-by."</p>
+
+<p>As they came near the park, they saw several fine carriages drawing
+towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going to have a world of company," said the man; "but Miss
+Darwell has no visitors in her own rooms but you and your sisters,
+Master Fairchild. My lady would have had more invited, but Mrs. Colvin
+begged off; and so you and the young ladies are much favoured."</p>
+
+<p>And then, giving his horse a fillip, away they went, bowling along over
+the park amid high fern brakes, lofty trees, and many deer.</p>
+
+<p>"I see something white through the trees," said Henry; "look, look, all
+along under the branches&mdash;see, Lucy&mdash;see, Emily!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you, master?" answered the servant; "well, that is unaccountable;
+but look before you&mdash;what do you see there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only trees," replied Henry, "and fern."</p>
+
+<p>"Look again, master," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>And Henry looked again till he had quite passed the place where the
+white things might be seen, and indeed had forgotten them.</p>
+
+<p>When they came to the house and drove to the door, a footman appeared,
+and was directed to lead the little ladies and gentleman to Miss
+Darwell's rooms. The man went before them upstairs and along the
+galleries to the door of that very room where they had been received by
+poor Miss Augusta Noble.<!-- Page 385 --></p>
+
+<p>As the footman, having opened the door, mentioned their names, they saw
+that everything within the room was just the same as it had been. But
+there was a nice elderly lady, dressed in black silk, who sat near the
+open window. She seemed, by the book in her hand, to have been reading
+to a pretty fair girl, nearly of the age of Lucy, who sat on a stool at
+her feet.</p>
+
+<p>These were Mrs. Colvin and Miss Darwell; and when they heard the names
+announced, they both rose and came to meet their visitors. They both
+smiled so sweetly, and spoke so pleasantly, that they took all fear at
+once from the children.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Colvin herself took off the bonnets and tippets, and laid them
+aside; and Miss Darwell said, "I am glad you came so soon; I told
+Everard to make haste."</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they were ready, Miss Darwell began to talk of what they
+were to play at. Mrs. Colvin gave them leave to go out for a time to
+play in the shade of what they called the cedar-grove, a place near the
+house, but they all begged her to go with them.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to play, my dears," she said; "I can't run."</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," said Lucy; "but you can have a book and sit down and read,
+as then you can see us at play."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said Mrs. Colvin, smiling, "I will come." And away they
+all went to the cedar-grove.</p>
+
+<p>As they were going Henry said:</p>
+
+<p>"I am not to ask what is to be done this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Miss Darwell; "you ought not even to say, 'I am not to
+ask.'"</p>
+
+<p>When they had got into the grove, and Mrs. Colvin was seated, they
+began to consult about what they should play at. As Miss Darwell had
+not often any children to play with, she did not know of half the games
+that others did.<!-- Page 386 --></p>
+
+<p>"Let us play at Little Edwy and the Echo," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"But we have no echo here," said Miss Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>"Then Henry shall be Edwy, and I will be the echo: and it is me you
+shall try to catch," replied Lucy; "and you shall have to run for it.
+Henry, you must call, and I will answer, but they shall not find me."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy could run almost as quick as a greyhound, and she managed the game
+so well, that it took up the whole time Mrs. Colvin allowed them to
+stay out of doors. It was getting hot, and they went back into the
+house, and to their room.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Mrs. Colvin, "you shall take your visitors into your
+play-room, Miss Darwell, and leave the door open, my dear, that I may
+hear you and see you; I know you like to have me near you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do, dear Mrs. Colvin," said Miss Darwell; and she put her arms
+round the excellent governess's neck and kissed her; and then, running
+and opening a door, led her visitors into a large room which they had
+not seen before. It was furnished with shelves, on which many books and
+toys were ranged in order&mdash;for it was one of Mrs. Colvin's wishes to
+make her pupil neat.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild's children quite cried out at the sight of these things;
+there were enough to furnish a toy-shop, besides the books.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Darwell said, "Which would you like?"<a name="tn_pg_422"></a><!-- TN: Single quote changed
+to a double--></p>
+
+<p>Henry fixed upon a large Noah's ark, and when it was reached down, he
+placed himself on the floor, and made a procession of its inmates. He
+placed Noah himself in front, with his little painted wife, and Shem,
+Ham, and Japhet, and their wives after him. Then came the beasts, and
+then the birds, and then the insects and creeping things. Lucy chose a
+dissected map of England and Wales, and another which formed a picture;
+and Emily,<!-- Page 387 --><!-- Page 388 --><!-- Page 389 --> a box of bricks and doorways, and pillars and chimneys,
+and other things for building houses.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Colvin had told the children that they were to keep themselves
+quiet till dinner-time; so Miss Darwell took her doll, and <a name="page_389a_text"></a>for a long
+time they were all very still with their toys: they were to dine at
+half-past one, and Henry had not done with his ark when a female
+servant came into the outer room to lay the cloth.</p>
+
+<a name="image_387"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/387.png" border="0"
+ width="464" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>For a long time they all very still with their toys.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_389a_text">Page 389</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"It is time to put up now," said Mrs. Colvin, calling from the next
+room.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily and Henry began immediately to put the things they had
+been playing with into the cases, and Lucy was putting her dissected
+map into the place from which she had taken it, when Miss Darwell said:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't put it away, Miss Fairchild; it shall be tied up ready to go
+with the carriage."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy did not understand her.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you not choose it, Miss Lucy?" said Miss Darwell; "if you please
+to accept it, I will send it in the carriage to-night with the bricks
+and the ark."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, dear Miss Darwell," Lucy answered; "but we must not take
+anything, unless your mamma and my mamma give leave."</p>
+
+<p>At that instant Mrs. Colvin called Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I called you, my dear, to tell you that you are quite right: you ought
+never to receive a present without your mamma's leave, and ought never
+to desire to receive one. But I have no doubt that Miss Darwell will
+remember to ask Mrs. Fairchild this evening if you may have them."</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Miss Darwell; "I hope I shall not forget it in the
+bustle."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I tell you of it?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily got as red as scarlet when Henry said these words; but
+Mrs. Colvin whispered:<!-- Page 390 --></p>
+
+<p>"Let him alone, he is very young, and he will get wiser as he gets
+older."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be obliged to you to remind me of it, Henry," said Miss
+Darwell; "and I will speak the moment I see Mrs. Fairchild."</p>
+
+<p>How happily did the four children and the good governess dine together
+that day before the open window, where they could smell the sweet
+flowers in the garden below, and see a large pool which was beyond the
+trees, and still beyond that the green heights of the park.</p>
+
+<p>"I see people," said Henry, whose eyes were everywhere, "going up the
+park by that pretty white building which looks like a temple with a
+porch&mdash;there they go&mdash;I see women and children&mdash;and there are men
+carrying baskets. What are they doing, ma'am?" he added, looking at
+Mrs. Colvin.</p>
+
+<p>"Taking a pleasant walk this fine afternoon," she answered; "and we
+will walk too by-and-by, but upon one condition, as it is so very warm,
+that after dinner you will each of you take a book and sit quite still,
+until I speak the word for all to move."</p>
+
+<p>"Might I play with Noah's ark, ma'am, instead?" said Henry; "I will not
+move."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Colvin; and when they had dined, she directed
+Lucy and Emily to choose their books and sit down in any place they
+chose.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Darwell also took a book, as did Mrs. Colvin; and so still was
+everyone, that it might have been thought that there was not a creature
+in the room but the Seven Sleepers, unless it might be two or three
+bees which came buzzing in and out.</p>
+
+<p>"How pleasant," thought Mrs. Colvin, "it is to have to do with
+well-behaved children! I should not mind<!-- Page 391 --> having these little
+Fairchilds always with me, at least till Henry is fit only to be
+managed by men."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily wished much to know what was going to be done in the
+park, but they did not find the time long. Lucy had chosen the <i>History
+of Mrs. Teachum</i>, and Emily the <i>Adventures of Robin, Dicksy, Flapsy,
+and Pecksy</i>, quite a new book, which she had never seen before. The
+great people in the parlour were to dine at four o'clock, that they
+also might go into the park afterwards; and a little before four the
+waiting-maid came up with the best things for Master and the Misses
+Fairchild, packed in a bandbox, the pretty presents of Miss Crosbie not
+having been forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Colvin saw the box she called the children to her; they all
+came running but Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my dears," she said, "you have been very quiet, and it is time to
+dress;" and she offered the maid's help to dress Lucy and Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "we have no one to wait upon us at
+home; we always dress each other."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish," said Miss Darwell, "that I had a little sister whom I might
+dress; but Mrs. Colvin always dresses me," she added in a whisper to
+Lucy, "because she loves me, and I love her."</p>
+
+<p>"But where is Henry?" said Mrs. Colvin.</p>
+
+<p>They went to look, and there was he, sound asleep on the floor in the
+play-room, with Shem, Ham, and Japhet in his hands, and all the birds
+and beasts about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Mrs. Colvin, "I did think he was the quietest boy that I
+had ever known, but he has lost a little credit with me now; most boys
+are quiet when they are asleep."</p>
+
+<p>Emily stooped down and kissed him, which caused him to wake; but when
+he was aroused he looked about him in<!-- Page 392 --> such a surprised way that all
+the little girls laughed heartily, and he looked as if he felt ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Colvin set him to pack up his ark, whilst she showed Emily and
+Lucy into a room to dress, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"When you are ready, come to me, that I may see that all is right."</p>
+
+<p>When they were dressed they called Henry, who was yet to be dressed,
+and then sought Mrs. Colvin; she, too, was ready, and Miss Darwell was
+standing by her.</p>
+
+<p>The little lady, according to the taste of her mother, was set off with
+lace on her sleeves and feathers in her hat, and coloured shoes, and
+everything which could make a child fine; but her manner was not the
+least changed; she only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+well. Mrs. Colvin turned them about, examining them, and made some
+amendment in the tying and pinning.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "you look very nice; little girls should always
+attend to neatness; it is a compliment due to those who care for them;
+and now each of you give me a kiss, and we will be off, as I see Henry
+is now ready, and Everard is waiting." They all then went down, and
+found Everard at the hall-door with the pony-carriage. A boy was
+holding a small horse by the carriage. "Now," said Mrs. Colvin, "how is
+it to be managed, Miss Darwell? Suppose I walk?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" cried Miss Darwell; "Henry is to ride; I know he will like
+it, and Joseph shall walk by him, and you shall sit in front with
+Everard, and we little ones will go behind. There is quite room, and it
+is a very little way, and it will be so pleasant;" and thus it was
+settled, to the immense joy of Henry.</p>
+
+<p>Away they went through one gate and another gate, till they came upon
+the green smooth drive which went quite round the park.<!-- Page 393 --></p>
+
+<p>"Is not this pleasant?" said Miss Darwell, taking the hand of Lucy and
+Emily on each side; "but please first to call Henry, and tell him that
+I have settled about the things. I sent a note to Mrs. Fairchild whilst
+you were dressing, with a pencil to write yes or no, and she wrote the
+right word; so Henry will not have to remind me. Mrs. Colvin always
+tells me not to put things off. But now you shall know what we are
+going to do. Mamma lets me have a pleasure on my birthday, so I asked
+to have all the children in the parish invited to have tea in the park;
+and mamma has had tents put up, and we have got music, and the children
+are to play, and the old people are to come with the children. I was
+only afraid it would not be fine, but it is fine," she added, clapping
+her hands in her great delight; "but I would not tell you, that you
+might have something to guess about."</p>
+
+<p>They first went up a rising ground, then they came to a grove; then
+they passed under the white building which Henry called a temple. Then
+they saw a lovely sparkling waterfall; then they came to an open place,
+green and smooth; then they came to another grove, and there they found
+that they were getting amongst the people, some of whom Henry had seen
+going to that place three or four hours before. When country people
+have a holiday, they like to make the most of it; and very soon they
+saw the tents through the trees.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was first, and he looked back to his sisters as if he would have
+said, "These are the white things I saw this morning." There were four
+tents; they had pointed tops, but were open on the sides; tables were
+spread in each of them, and also under the trees in various places
+round about; and there sat several musicians on a bank. The people all
+about, men and women and children, were like bees swarming about the
+tents. There were parties of<!-- Page 394 --> young people and children who had been
+playing and amusing themselves, but they all stood still when they saw
+the carriage coming, and the music struck up a fine merry tune to
+welcome the little lady.</p>
+
+<p>There were none of the grand people from the house yet come; those that
+were there were chiefly the cottagers, but they had all their very best
+dresses on, and all the poor children were dressed exactly alike. They
+wore dark blue cotton frocks with white tippets, and aprons, and caps.
+There were a few persons present, seated in one of the tents, who were
+not among the poor. Henry immediately saw Mrs. Burke and her daughters,
+for Mrs. Burke smiled kindly at him; the boys were somewhere among the
+people.</p>
+
+<p>But though there were so many, there was no fear that the feast would
+run short, for the tables were heaped up with bread and butter and
+cakes, and fruit, and tea and sugar, and there were pails of milk
+standing under the trees, and more bread, and more fruit, and more of
+everything. It was settled that when Miss Darwell came, the feast was
+to begin.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried Lucy, "how pleasant everything looks!"</p>
+
+<p>There was not time for any more to be said, for the carriage was
+getting close to the tents; it stopped, and Mrs. Colvin and the young
+people alighted.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Darwell was received by many smiling faces; every child looked at
+her with innocent delight, and the women murmured, "Bless her sweet
+face!" And then orders were given that the feast was to begin, and the
+people settled themselves on the grass in small parties.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Colvin having given Miss Darwell a hint, she went to speak to Mrs.
+Burke, and invited her and her daughters to come and assist in serving
+the people, and seeing that everyone had as much as they wished.<!-- Page 395 --></p>
+
+<p>Kind Mrs. Burke was the very person to like to be asked to do such a
+thing, and the Misses Burke could not be offended when they saw Miss
+Darwell as busily engaged as she possibly could be.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said she to Lucy, and Emily, and Henry, "now you are to come
+with me; look at that little party under that oak; there is a very old
+woman and two children. There are more people near, but I don't want
+you to look at them&mdash;come close to them." And they all four walked
+towards them.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not stir, do not speak," said Miss Darwell, to the two children and
+the old woman; "let Master and the Misses Fairchild see if they
+recognise you again."</p>
+
+<p>The little ones under the tree entered into the joke, and sat quite
+still. The boy, indeed, laughed and chuckled; but the little girl kept
+her countenance. The old woman did not know Mr. Fairchild's children,
+so she had no trouble to keep herself from smiling.</p>
+
+<p>All these three were neatly dressed, and their clothes looked quite
+new. The boy had a suit of what is called hodden-gray, with a clean
+shirt as white as the snow.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know them," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"But I do," cried Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"And so do I," said Emily; "they are Edward and Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss," said the two little ones, jumping up.</p>
+
+<p>"And it is all through you," added Edward, "that the good little lady
+has done everything for us: and the house is new thatched, and the
+walls made as white as paper; and more money given to grandmother; and
+me cowboy at Squire Burke's; and Jane in the school&mdash;don't Jane look
+well in them clothes, sir? Oh, that was a good day when we lighted on
+you, Master and Miss!" And the poor boy pulled the front lock of his
+hair and bowed I know not how many times.<!-- Page 396 --></p>
+
+<p>When every person had as much as was good for them, and a few persons,
+perhaps, a little more, orders were given that what remained should be
+set in order in the tents for supper; and then the music struck up. And
+whilst the elder people were amusing themselves in other places, Miss
+Darwell called all the little girls to follow her into a pretty green
+glade among the trees, and hidden from the rest of the company.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Colvin went with her, for she was never willing that her good
+governess should lose sight of her; and Lucy and Emily were equally
+anxious for her presence. Henry was the only boy allowed to come.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Lucy," said Miss Darwell, for she was getting quite fond of her,
+"now there is to be some play, but I do not know many games; so you and
+Emily must lead. What shall we have?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy knows a thousand thousand games!" cried Henry.</p>
+
+<p>After some talking, "Hunt the Hare" was chosen; and Lucy, who was a
+particularly quick runner, was chosen for the hare, and everyone was to
+follow Lucy in and out wherever she went.</p>
+
+<p>All the children were to stand with joined hands in a circle; Lucy was
+to be in the middle. They began with dancing round her, and when they
+stopped she was to begin to run, and after ten had been counted, one
+other was let loose to follow her, and then the whole pack, as Henry
+called them, at a signal given.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Darwell got between Henry and Emily in the circle; Lucy was put
+into the midst; and they danced round her, singing, "My leader, my
+leader, I will follow my leader wherever she goes!" Then they stood
+still, and Lucy began to run out under one pair of hands and in under
+another, and back again, and about and about like a needle<!-- Page 397 --> in a piece
+of cloth; and when ten had been counted, Henry was let loose, and then
+the sport really began. They expected he would have caught her
+immediately; he was as quick as ever his little legs would allow, and
+as true to all her windings as the thread is to those of the needle.
+But when he was following Lucy the last time through the middle of the
+circle, he gave the signal for the whole party to loose hands and
+follow him, and away they all went. But they could not get on for
+laughing, for Lucy had as many pranks as Harlequin himself, so that
+several of the children, and amongst these Miss Darwell herself, fairly
+stood still to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>This game lasted for some time. Then came "Puss in the Corner"; and
+then, as Mrs. Colvin thought there had been strong exercise enough, the
+evening being very hot, she made all the children sit down, and asked
+who could tell a story.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy can," said Emily; and Lucy then, without hesitation, told the
+story of "Edwy and the Echo," by the particular desire of Miss Darwell.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy had one particularly pleasing quality, which arose in some degree
+from the habit of quick obedience in which she had been brought up;
+this was, that when, in company, desired by a proper person to do
+anything she could to make herself agreeable, she immediately tried;
+and when Mrs. Colvin had said, "If you can tell the story, Miss Lucy,
+do favour us with it," she took her place, and did it as easily as if
+Emily and Henry only had been by. Emily had the same wish to make
+herself pleasant as Lucy had, but she was naturally more shy. Everybody
+was so pleased with Lucy's story that she told another, and that was
+the story of "Margot and the Golden Fish," which delighted everyone,
+and was a useful story to the poor children.<!-- Page 398 --></p>
+
+<p>But now the sun was beginning to dip its golden disc below the hills,
+and the sound was heard of carriages. Mr. and Mrs. Darwell, and those
+who had dined with them, were come up into the park.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Colvin called on all the village children to put themselves in the
+neatest order, and to take their places two and two, she herself
+arranging Lucy and Emily and Miss Darwell in their bonnets and tippets;
+and then walked with her train to join the company.</p>
+
+<p>A great number of fine ladies and gentlemen were in the midst and
+within the tents, and there were Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Darwell spoke civilly, but very coldly, to Lucy and Emily. Mr.
+Darwell spoke kindly. The ladies and gentlemen had a great deal to say
+to Miss Darwell, but she was become very reserved among so many
+strangers, and seemed to cling close to Mrs. Colvin.</p>
+
+<p>The village people were then offered more refreshments, and as they
+could not take much, everything that was left was ordered to be given
+amongst them; but none of them had gone, when all who had come from the
+house returned to it.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry you are going, dear Lucy and Emily and Henry," said
+Miss Darwell; "I have had the happiest day I ever had in my life. I
+thought I should like you, but I did not know how very much it would
+be."</p>
+
+<p>The little girls then kissed each other, and Mrs. Colvin gave them a
+note for their mother.</p>
+
+<p>"This," she said, "is to tell Mrs. Fairchild, that I care not how often
+you and Miss Darwell meet. I can add no more to that."</p>
+
+<p>The children were to go home with their father and mother; and if they
+loved Miss Darwell much already, they loved her more for her kindness
+when they saw three<!-- Page 399 --> large brown paper parcels under the seat of the
+little carriage.</p>
+
+<p>They had a sweet drive home, though they had not time to tell all that
+had happened to their mother till the next day; but their parents knew,
+from Mrs. Colvin's note, as soon as they got home, that their children
+had behaved very well.</p>
+
+<a name="image_399"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>In their neatest morning dresses.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_383_text">Page 383</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/399.png" border="0" width="292" height="442" ALT=""></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 400 -->
+<h3><a name="Grandmamma_Fairchild" id="Grandmamma_Fairchild"></a>Grandmamma Fairchild</h3>
+
+<a name="image_400"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/400.png" border="0" width="582" height="321" ALT="&quot;Will Lucy love me?&quot; said the old lady"></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">After</span> this very pleasant day at the park, and long before Lucy and
+Emily had left off talking about it, a note came from Miss Darwell, to
+say that they were all going to the sea, for which she was sorry,
+because she wanted to see them all again.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy answered the note, and said that she and Emily were also very,
+very sorry; and this they truly were. Several weeks then passed, and
+nothing particular happened, till a letter came from their grandmamma,
+saying that her grand-daughter was very ill, and much desired to see
+her uncle. "Indeed," added the old lady, "I feel that I shall be
+required to give up my Ellen also; but God does all things well."</p>
+
+<p>The letter came at breakfast-time, and Mr. Fairchild resolved to set
+out as soon as he possibly could get ready. There was a great bustle
+for the next hour, and then Mr. Fairchild took leave of his family, and
+was driven by John to the town&mdash;he was to go on from thence by the
+coach.<!-- Page 401 --></p>
+
+<p>The children stood to see them off, and then walked back into the
+house. Their mother told them to take their needlework and sit down in
+the parlour; and she gave Henry a book to read whilst she was busy in
+another part of the house. It was a very hot day, the window was open,
+and all was still&mdash;even the children did not speak for some time; at
+last Lucy said:</p>
+
+<p>"I hope poor cousin Ellen will not die.<a name="tn_pg_437"></a><!-- TN: Period added--> What will grandmamma do if she
+dies?"</p>
+
+<p>"If she did not live so far off," said Emily, "perhaps we might comfort
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"I never remember seeing her but twice," said Lucy, "and you never saw
+her, Henry."</p>
+
+<p>They went on talking about their grandmother till Mrs. Fairchild came
+in and sat down with them, and they still went on with the subject,
+asking her many questions, especially wherefore their grandmother had
+come so seldom to see them, and why they had not been asked to see her.
+From one thing to another they went on till they heard a much more
+regular account of the history of their family than they had ever heard
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"When I first knew your father's family, my dears," said Mrs.
+Fairchild, "your grandmother was living in Reading with two sons: the
+elder brother soon afterwards went to the East Indies, where he married
+and had several children. Your father was intended to have been a
+clergyman, but before he could be ordained he was attacked with an
+illness, which finished with such a weakness in the chest, that he knew
+he could never read the Service without danger. We had enough to live
+on, and we settled here, and here you were all born."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Lucy, "and we love this dear place. We shall never like
+another so well; it would grieve me to leave it."<!-- Page 402 --></p>
+
+<p>"We must take things as they come," said Mrs. Fairchild, going on with
+her history. "Your uncle was abroad several years, and was enabled to
+make a very good fortune. Whilst you were a very little baby, Lucy, he
+returned to England, and then purchased that place where your
+grandmamma now lives, a place known by the name of The Grove, between
+Reading and London, on the banks of the Thames. His wife had died
+abroad, and several children also in infancy. He brought with him two
+little girls, of five and six years of age, Emily and Ellen; and they
+were lovely little creatures then," said Mrs. Fairchild; "their very
+paleness making them only look the more lovely. When I saw that sweet
+little Emily, I resolved, that if ever I had another girl, it should be
+an Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"My nieces lost their father only one year after they came to England,
+and then their grandmother settled herself quite down to give all her
+attention to them; and truly, from the extreme delicacy of their
+health, they needed all the care that she could give them. From the
+very earliest period of their lives they were invariably gentle,
+humble, and attentive to the comfort of every person who came near to
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Were not they like Miss Darwell?" said Henry, who had dropped his
+book, and was listening with all his attention.</p>
+
+<p>"I think they were, Henry," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "and their outward
+circumstances were much alike&mdash;they were, like her, the daughters of a
+rich man, and brought up very tenderly. It was about four years since,"
+she continued, "that your lovely cousin Emily died of a rapid decline.
+A little before her death, seeing her sister weeping bitterly, she
+said, 'Do not cry, gentle sister, we shall not be parted long.' Ellen
+never forgot those words, though it was not<!-- Page 403 --> till some time afterwards
+that she reminded your grandmamma of them."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you think she will now die, mamma, and go to her Emily?" said
+Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "but she has certainly been
+gradually falling off ever since she lost her sister."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild wrote every day; his accounts from the first were bad;
+they became worse and worse as to the hopes respecting the poor young
+lady, and her grandmother's anxiety. At last a letter came to say that
+she was dead, but had died in great peace.</p>
+
+<p>The children cried very much, but more for their grandmother than for
+their cousin; for they had not a doubt that she was happy. Then, too,
+Lucy and Emily began to think how they could make up the loss to the
+old lady, if she would but come and live with them; and then they began
+to plan what rooms she could have, and were a little puzzled because
+the house was very small; yet Lucy said she thought it might be
+contrived.</p>
+
+<p>The next letter from Mr. Fairchild said that he had persuaded his
+mother to leave The Grove for a few weeks; and that she was to set out
+the next day with her maid, whilst he remained to settle everything.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady was expected to come the day after the next, as she would
+sleep on the road; and there was much to be done to get everything
+ready, and to see after mourning.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily had many plans for comforting their grandmother; and as
+the old lady was used to be wheeled about in a Bath-chair, John was
+sent to the Park to borrow one which had belonged to Sir Charles
+Noble's mother.</p>
+
+<p>The elder Mrs. Fairchild was old, and had long been<!-- Page 404 --> affected by
+lameness, which prevented her from walking with ease; and this her
+daughter-in-law knew. There was nothing she would not have done to make
+her comfortable. Henry cheerfully gave up his room for the maid, and
+had a little bed put up for him in the play-room. He had settled that
+he was to be his grandmother's horse as soon as he saw the Bath-chair.</p>
+
+<p>The children had not known much of their cousins; they had been at
+their grandmother's only once since they could remember, for the very
+bad health of their cousins had prevented their going with their father
+when he went to see his mother; they could not therefore feel for their
+cousins as if they had known them well, but they thought very much of
+their grandmother's loss.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild had settled that the old lady was to have the use of
+their little drawing-room, and no one but herself was to go to her in
+that room unless she wished it; and she told the children they must
+expect her to be very sad indeed till after the funeral, and that they
+must be very quiet, and not come in her sight unless she desired it.</p>
+
+<p>She was not expected until the evening of the third day after they had
+heard she was coming; and then Henry went up to the top of the round
+hill to watch for the carriage, and to be the first to give notice of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>It was not far from six o'clock when he first saw it coming down the
+hill towards the village, and he was not sure of it for some time; he
+then ran in, and went up with Lucy and Emily to their window to wait
+till it came.</p>
+
+<p>After a while they heard the sound of it; then they saw John go to the
+gate and set it open; then they drew back a little, not to be seen, and
+came forward when the carriage stopped, but they did not see the old
+lady get out. Mrs. Fairchild was below to receive her, and to lead<!-- Page 405 --> her
+into the house: but they saw the maid busy in seeing the things taken
+out of the carriage, and they heard her giving her orders. This maid
+was not the same who had for years waited on the old lady, but one who
+had taken the place whilst the old waiting-maid stayed behind to take
+care of the house. This new maid called herself Miss Tilney: her
+mistress called her Jane, but no one else took that liberty. She was
+dressed as smartly as she could be in deep mourning; and she gave
+orders in such a sharp tone that the children could hear every word she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>She called Betty "young woman," and bade her carry up some of the
+parcels to her lady's room. She asked John his name; and told the
+postboy he was not worth his salt.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Henry, "there will be no need for my making a noise to
+disturb grandmamma; that woman would make enough for us all."</p>
+
+<p>"That woman!" cried Emily; "don't speak so loud, she will hear you."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the boxes were all removed, and the carriage driven
+away; and then the children heard the maid's voice talking to Betty in
+the next room, which was the only spare room in the house. They heard
+her say, "Well, to be sure, but our rooms at The Grove are so large,
+that one is not used to such bandboxes as these."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure," said Henry, "the room is good enough for her:" and he was
+going to say more, when his sisters stopped him, and begged him not to
+listen. "I don't listen," he answered; "I hear without listening."</p>
+
+<p>They were interrupted by Mrs. Fairchild, who came to tell them that
+their grandmother had asked for them. Mrs. Fairchild walked first, and
+opened the drawing-room door; there they saw their grandmother. She was
+a neat little old lady in black, exactly such as they fancied<!-- Page 406 --> Mrs.
+Howard had been. She was seated, and looked very pale. At the sight of
+them she became paler than before; she held out her hands to them, and
+they all three rushed into her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"My children, my precious children!" said the old lady, kissing one and
+another as they pressed forward.</p>
+
+<p>"We will be your own grandchildren," said Lucy; "we will comfort you
+and read to you, and do everything for you. Do not be unhappy, dear
+grandmamma, we will all be your own children."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady was scarcely able to speak, but she murmured to herself:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my God is good, I am not left without comfort."</p>
+
+<p>"Stand back, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "and let your grandmamma
+look at you quietly&mdash;you overpower her."</p>
+
+<p>They drew back. The old lady wiped away a tear or two which dimmed her
+sight, and then, with a gentle smile, she looked first at Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"She has the oval face and gentle look so dear to me," said the old
+lady; "this is Lucy. Will Lucy love me?"</p>
+
+<p>The little girl, being thus called upon, fell again on grandmamma's
+neck, and quite sobbed with feeling; she soon, however, recovered
+herself, and pointing to her sister:</p>
+
+<p>"This is Emily, grandmamma," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Another Emily!" replied the old lady, "I am rich indeed!" and, fixing
+her eyes on the younger little girl, "I could almost think I had my
+child again. Daughter," she added, speaking to Mrs. Fairchild, "do my
+eyes deceive me? Is there not a likeness? But your little girls are
+such exactly as I fondly wished them to be. And this is Henry, our
+youngest one;" and she took his hand in hers, and said, "Did you expect
+to see grandmamma looking so very old, my little man?"<!-- Page 407 --></p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," replied Henry, "not quite so old;" and the little boy made
+a bow, thinking how very civil he ought to be to his own father's
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"He does not mean to be rude, ma'am," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I see it, my dear," replied the old lady, smiling. "Do not, I pray
+you, say anything to destroy his honesty&mdash;the world will soon enough
+teach him to use deception."</p>
+
+<p>Henry did not understand all this, but fearing, perhaps, to lose his
+place as grandmamma's horse, he took the occasion to ask if he might
+not be her horse.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, my child?" said the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"May I be your horse, ma'am?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"My horse?" repeated the old lady, looking for an explanation from
+Lucy; and when she had got it, she made him quite happy by assuring him
+that no horse could please her better.</p>
+
+<p>She did not drink tea that evening with the family, and went very early
+to bed; but having seen them all that evening, she was ready to meet
+them more calmly in the morning, and quite prepared to rejoice in the
+blessing of having such grandchildren to make up her losses.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 408 -->
+<h3><a name="Great_Changes" id="Great_Changes"></a>Great Changes</h3>
+
+<a name="image_408"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/408.png" border="0" width="584" height="326" ALT="&quot;Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like&quot;"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Henry</span> arose the next morning as soon as he heard the step of John in
+the garden, and was very soon with him, asking him what he could do to
+help him. Henry loved to help John.</p>
+
+<p>John did not answer in his own cheerful way, but said:</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Master Henry; it can't much matter now, I reckon, what
+we do, or what we leave undone."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, John?" said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"You will know soon enough," John answered, "but it shan't be from me
+you shall learn it. I suppose, however," he added, "that we must get
+the peas for dinner; folks must eat, though the world should come to an
+end next Michaelmas."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, John?" said Henry; "I am sure something is."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied John, "if there is nothing else, is it not enough to
+have that lady's-maid there in the kitchen finding fault with
+everything, and laying down the law, and telling me to my face that I
+don't understand so much as to graff a tree?"<!-- Page 409 --></p>
+
+<p>"Who says so, John?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my lady's maid," replied John; "that Miss Tilney or Tolney, or
+some such name, as is written as large as life on her boxes. As to the
+old lady, she has a good right to come here, but she did very wrong to
+bring that woman with her, to disturb an orderly family. Why, Master
+Henry, she makes ten times the jabbering Mag does."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish, then, she would fly away over the barn," said Henry, "as Mag
+did."</p>
+
+<p>"We would none of us go after her," replied John, "to bring her back;
+but I am a fool," added the honest man; "here have I lived ever since
+master came here, and most of these trees did I plant and graff with my
+own hands, and made the sparrow-grass beds and all, and now this woman
+is to come with her nonsense, and turn everything topsy-turvy."</p>
+
+<p>Henry was quite puzzled; he saw that John was vexed, and he knew that
+the words topsy-turvy meant upside-down; but he could not understand
+how the lady's-maid could turn the roots of the trees up in the air. He
+was going to ask an explanation, when a very shrill voice was heard
+screaming, "Mr. John, Mr. John!"</p>
+
+<p>"There again!" cried John, "even the garden can't be clear of
+her&mdash;there, Master Henry, put down the basket and be off, she is no
+company for you. If you see her, and she asks for me, tell her I am
+gone to clean the pig-sty; she will not follow me there." So off ran
+John one way, and Henry another.</p>
+
+<p>But Henry was not so lucky in his flight as John was; he ran into a
+narrow walk enclosed on each side with filberts, and before he was
+aware came quite opposite to the lady's-maid. He thought she looked
+very fine&mdash;quite a lady herself; and he stopped short, and wished her<!-- Page 410 -->
+good-morning. Had she been the poorest person he would have done the
+same, for his parents had taken great pains to make him civil to
+everyone.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Fairchild, I presume," cried the maid. "A charming morning,
+sir. I was looking for Mr. John, to ask him if he would please to
+select some flowers to arrange in my mistress's room: she always has
+flowers in her dressing-room at The Grove."</p>
+
+<p>"John," said Henry, "is gone to clean the pig-sty."</p>
+
+<p>The lady's-maid drew up her lip, and looked disgusted.</p>
+
+<p>"Faugh!" said she, "I shall not think of troubling <i>him</i> to cull the
+flowers."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I get some for grandmamma?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>She thanked him for his politeness, and accepted his offer.</p>
+
+<p>The little boy walked before her to where there was a bit of raised
+ground covered with rose-bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"There, ma'am," he said, "you can gather any you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word, Master Fairchild, you are uncommon polite," she said; "I
+shall tell our people at home what a handsome genteel young gentleman
+you are. They will be so desirous to know all about you&mdash;and not at all
+high and proud neither, though you have such great prospects."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by great prospects, ma'am?" asked Henry; "I do not
+understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"That is your humility, Master Fairchild," said the maid; "to be sure,
+this place is but small, and I wonder how you could have managed in it
+so long, but it is neat and very genteel; yet, when you have seen The
+Grove, you will think nothing of this little box here."</p>
+
+<p>"What box?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"This house, Master Fairchild," she answered; "you might put the whole
+place into the hall at The Grove."<!-- Page 411 --></p>
+
+<p>"What an immense hall!" said Henry in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Betty, as I tell her," said the maid, "will be quite out of her
+place amongst so many servants; she can't bear to hear it talked of."</p>
+
+<p>"What talked of?" answered Henry. "But please not to gather the
+rose-buds; mamma does not like them to be gathered."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, Master Fairchild," said the maid, "and that is just right.
+In a small garden like this one should be particular; yet, at The
+Grove, a few rose-buds would never be missed. But you are a very good
+young gentleman to be so attentive to your dear mamma; I am sure I
+shall delight our people by the account I shall have to give when I go
+back; and I am to go back when Mrs. Johnson comes, and that will be in
+a few days. I shall tell them there that you are not only very good,
+but vastly genteel, and so like pretty Miss Ellen&mdash;and she was quite a
+beauty&mdash;dear young lady! You will see her picture as large as life in
+the drawing-room at The Grove, Master Fairchild."</p>
+
+<p>Henry did not understand one-half of what the maid said to him, and was
+very glad when he heard the step of someone coming round the little
+mound of rose-bushes. <a name="page_411_text"></a>It was Emily's step; she came to call him to
+breakfast; she was dressed with a clean white pinafore, and her hair
+hung about her face in soft ringlets; she looked grave, but, in her
+usual way, mild and gentle.</p>
+
+<p>When she saw the maid, she, too, said, "Good-morning."</p>
+
+<p>"That young lady is your sister, no doubt, Master Fairchild," said the
+maid.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Emily," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"I should have known the sweet young lady anywhere,"<a name="tn_pg_447"></a><!-- TN: Single
+quote changed to double--> she answered; "so like the family, so pretty
+and so<!-- Page 412 --> genteel. Miss Emily, I wish you health to enjoy your new
+place."</p>
+
+<p>Emily was as much puzzled as Henry had been with Miss Tilney's
+speeches. She said, "Thank you, ma'am," however, and walked away with
+Henry.</p>
+
+<p>Their grandmother had slept later than usual; she had not rested well
+in the early part of the night, and had fallen asleep after the rest of
+the family were gone down.</p>
+
+<p>She was not, therefore, present in the parlour; and when Henry came in,
+and had gotten his breath&mdash;for he and Emily had run to the house&mdash;he
+began to repeat some of the things which the maid had said to him, and
+to ask what they meant. Emily also repeated her speech to herself; and
+Lucy looked to her mother to explain these strange things.</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot you guess, my children?" said Mrs. Fairchild, rather changing
+countenance; "but I had hoped that for a few days this business might
+not be explained to you. Our servants would not have told you, but I
+see that others will, so perhaps it is best that you should hear it
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, mamma?" said all three at once; "nothing bad, we hope."</p>
+
+<p>"Not bad," replied Mrs. Fairchild, "though it is what I and your dear
+papa had never wished for."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do tell us!" said Lucy, trembling.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild then told them that, by the death of their poor cousin,
+their father had come into the possession of the house and estate at
+The Grove, and, in fact, the whole of his late brother's fortune.</p>
+
+<p>The children could not at first understand this, but when they did,
+they were much excited.</p>
+
+<p>Their mother, after a while, told them that it would probably be
+necessary for them to leave that dear place, and go to The Grove, their
+grandmamma wishing to be<!-- Page 413 --> always with them, and having her own
+comfortable rooms at The Grove.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily began to shed tears on hearing of this, but they said
+nothing at that time.</p>
+
+<p>Henry said:</p>
+
+<p>"But John, mamma, and Betty&mdash;what can we do without them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't they go with us, my dear?" said Mrs. Fairchild.</p>
+
+<p>"And John Trueman, and nurse, and Mary Bush, and Margery,
+and&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;" added Henry, not being able to get out any more
+names in his impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"And the school!" said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"We do not live in the same house with these persons last mentioned,"
+answered Mrs. Fairchild, "and therefore they would not miss us as those
+would do with whom we may reside; we must help them at a distance. If
+you, Lucy and Emily, have more money given you now, you must save it
+for these poor dear people. Kind Mrs. Burke will divide it amongst them
+as they want it; and she will look after the school."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Emily!" said Lucy, "we will save all we can."</p>
+
+<p>Emily could not speak, but she put her hand in Lucy's, and Lucy knew
+what that meant.</p>
+
+<p>Who could think of lessons such a day as this? As soon as breakfast was
+over, Henry ran to talk to John about all that he heard: and Lucy and
+Emily, with their mother's leave, went out into the air to recover
+themselves before they appeared in the presence of their grandmother.
+They were afraid of meeting the maid, so they went up to the top of the
+round hill, and seated themselves in the shade of the beech-trees.</p>
+
+<p>For a little while they looked about them, particularly down on the
+house and garden and the pleasant fields around them, every corner of
+which they knew as well as<!-- Page 414 --> children always know every nook in the
+place in which they have spent their early days. They were both
+shedding tears, and yet trying to hide them from each other. Lucy was
+the first who spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Emily!" she said, "I cannot bear to think of leaving this dear
+home. Can we ever be so happy again as we have been here?"</p>
+
+<p>The little girls were silent again for some minutes, and then Lucy went
+on:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Emily! how many things I am thinking of! There&mdash;don't you see the
+little path winding through the wood to the hut? How many happy
+evenings we have had in that hut! Shall we ever have another? And there
+is the way to Mary Bush's."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember the walk we had there with Betty a long time ago?"
+said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I can remember, still longer ago, when you were very little, and
+Henry almost a baby," said Lucy, "papa carrying us over the field there
+to nurse's, and getting flowers for us."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like," she added, "to live in this place, and all of us
+together, just as we are now, a hundred years."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel we shall never come back if we go away," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall never come back and be what we have been," replied Lucy;
+"that time is gone, I know. This is our last summer in this happy
+place. Oh, if I had known it when we were reading Henry's story at the
+hut, how very sad I should have been!"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot help crying," said Emily; "and I must not cry before our poor
+grandmamma."</p>
+
+<p>"These things which are happening," said Lucy, "make me think of what
+mamma has often said, that it seldom<!-- Page 415 --> happens that many years pass
+without troubles and changes. I never could understand them before, but
+I do now."</p>
+
+<p>"Because," added Emily, "we have lived such a very, very long time just
+in the same way."</p>
+
+<p>The two little girls sat talking until they both became more calm; but
+they had left off talking of their own feelings some time before they
+left the hill, and began to speak of their grandmother; and they tried
+to put away their own little griefs, as far as they could, that they
+might comfort her. With these good thoughts in their minds, they came
+down the hill and returned to the house.</p>
+
+<a name="image_415"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>It was Emily's step.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_411_text">Page 411</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/415.png" border="0" width="229" height="350" ALT=""></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 416 -->
+<h3><a name="Grandmamma_and_the_Children" id="Grandmamma_and_the_Children"></a>Grandmamma and the Children</h3>
+
+<a name="image_416"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/416.png" border="0" width="585" height="338" ALT="Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"I don't</span> care so much now," said Henry, meeting them at the door; "John
+says he will go with us, if it is to the world's end, or as far as the
+moon; and Betty says she will go too; and we can take the horse and
+Mag&mdash;so we shall do. But grandmamma is up and has had her breakfast,
+and we have got the Bath-chair ready, and she says that she will let us
+draw her round the garden; and I am to pull, and John says he will come
+and push, if the lady's-maid is not there too. He says that the worst
+thing about going with us, is that lady's-maid; and he hopes, for that
+reason, that the house will be very large."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy and Emily ran to their grandmother; she was in the drawing-room;
+she kissed and blessed them, and looked at them with tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Grandmamma," said Lucy, "we have thought about it, and we will go with
+you to The Grove, and be your own children; only we would like you best
+to stay here."</p>
+
+<p>"My own sweet children," replied the old lady, "we will<!-- Page 417 --> refer all
+these things to your papa and mamma. I am too old, and you are too
+young, to manage worldly matters; so we will leave these cares to those
+who are neither so young nor so old; God will guide them, I know, to
+what is best."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, grandmamma," said Henry, putting his head only into the room,
+"the carriage is ready."</p>
+
+<p>"And so am I," said the old lady, and she stepped out into the passage,
+and was soon in her Bath-chair.</p>
+
+<p>John was ready to push, but seeing the maid come out to take her place
+behind the chair, he walked away without a word.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tilney, as she called herself, had not much to say before her
+mistress, so that she did not disturb the little party.</p>
+
+<p>They did not go beyond the garden, but stopped often in shady places,
+where one of the children sat at their grandmother's feet, and the
+others on the grass.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady seemed sometimes to have difficulty to be cheerful. She
+was often thinking, no doubt, of what was going on at The Grove, for
+the funeral was not over. She could not yet speak of the children she
+had lost.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy guessed what made her sad, and for some minutes she was thinking
+what she could say to amuse her; she thought of several subjects to
+speak about; and, young as she was, settled in her own mind she must
+not speak of anything sad. At last she thought of what she would say,
+and she began by asking her if she saw a high piece of ground covered
+with trees at some distance.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, my dear," replied the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to hear about an old house which is beyond that wood?"</p>
+
+<p>The grandmother was not so desirous of hearing about the old house, as
+she was to hear how her little grand-<!-- Page 418 -->daughter could talk. By the words
+of children we may learn a great deal of their characters, and how they
+have been taught; and so she begged Lucy to tell her about this old
+house.</p>
+
+<p>It was Mrs. Goodriche's house that Lucy meant: and she began by telling
+what sort of a house it was; and who lived in it now; and what a kind
+lady she was; and how they went often to see her; and what pretty
+stories she could tell them, particularly about Mrs. Howard.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Howard!" repeated old Mrs. Fairchild, "I have heard of her; I
+knew the family of the Symondses well. Do, Lucy, tell me all you know
+about that good lady."</p>
+
+<p>How pleasant it was to Lucy to think that she had found out the very
+thing to amuse her grandmother; and she went on, and on, until, with a
+word or two now and then from Emily, she had told the two stories of
+Mrs. Howard, and told them very prettily and straightforward&mdash;not as
+Henry would have done, with the wrong end foremost, but right forward,
+and everything in its place. Mrs. Fairchild had always accustomed her
+little girls to give accounts of any books they read; and Lucy had
+always been particularly clever in doing this exercise well.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories&mdash;pleased every
+way; and it might be seen that she was so by her often asking her to go
+on.</p>
+
+<p>The maid was also much amused, and when Lucy had told all, she said to
+her mistress:</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, ma'am, Miss Lucy is a most charming young lady, as agreeable
+as she is pretty, and I am sure you have the greatest reason to be
+proud of her; and, indeed, of the other young lady, too, Miss Emily;
+and Master Fairchild himself, he does honour to his family."</p>
+
+<p>"None of this, Tilney, I beg," said the old lady; "I rejoice in what I
+see of these dear children, and I thank<!-- Page 419 --> God on their account; but we
+must not flatter them. I thank my Lucy for her stories, and her wishes
+to amuse poor grandmamma; and I thank my gentle Emily for the help she
+has given; but as to little boys in pinafores doing honour to their
+families, you must know that is quite out of the question. It is enough
+for me to say that I love my little boy, and that I find him very kind,
+and that I think his dear papa and mamma have, so far, brought him up
+well."</p>
+
+<p>About noon the little party went into the house: the old lady lay down
+to read, and the rest went to their own rooms. They met again at
+dinner, and at tea; then came another airing; and they finished the day
+with reading the Bible and prayers.</p>
+
+<p>Several days passed much in the same way, till Mr. Fairchild returned.
+He brought grandmamma's own servant with him; and Miss Tilney, to the
+great joy of John and Betty, went the next day.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had much business to do, for it was settled that
+they were all to move to The Grove in the autumn; but the old lady,
+having her own maid with her, and having become very fond of the
+children, did not depend on her son and daughter for amusement.</p>
+
+<p>After Mr. Fairchild returned, she went out much farther in the
+Bath-chair, and was drawn to many of the places loved by the children.
+That summer was one of the finest ever known in the country, and many
+were the hours spent by the little party about the Bath-chair, in the
+shade of the woods.</p>
+
+<p>At these times grandmamma would often speak of the children she had
+lost, and of the happy years which she had spent with them. How very
+pleasant good and cheerful old people are! They are pleasanter than
+young ones, because they have seen so much, and have so many<!-- Page 420 --> old
+stories to tell. Grandmamma remembered the time when ladies wore large
+hoops and long ruffles and lappets, and when gentlemen's coats were
+trimmed with gold lace. She could tell of persons who had been born
+above <a name="page_420_text"></a>a hundred years ago, persons she had herself seen and talked to;
+and her way of talking was not like that of many grown-up people who
+make children covetous and envious. That was not grandmamma's way; she
+was like the eagle in the fable, always trying to encourage her eaglets
+to fly upwards; and she did this so pleasantly that her grandchildren
+were never tired of hearing her talk. One of grandmamma's stories is so
+interesting that we will relate it in this place.</p>
+
+<a name="tn_pg_456"></a><!--TN: Original reads "Page 455"-->
+<a name="image_420"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>A hundred years ago.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_420_text">Page 420</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/420.png" border="0" width="343" height="344" ALT=""></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 421 -->
+<h3><a name="Grandmammas_History_of_Evelyn_Vaughan_Part_I" id="Grandmammas_History_of_Evelyn_Vaughan_Part_I"></a>Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part I.</h3>
+
+<a name="image_421"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/421.png" border="0" width="566" height="310" ALT="To teach little Francis his letters"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">"Will</span> it not sound very strange to you, my dear children," said old
+Mrs. Fairchild, "to hear me talk of people, whom I knew very well, who
+were born one hundred years or more ago? But when you know that I can
+remember many things which happened seventy years ago, and that I then
+knew several people who were more than seventy years old&mdash;even Henry
+will be able to make out more than a hundred years since the time that
+they were born."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, grandmamma," said Henry, "and I will do the sum in the sand."</p>
+
+<p>Henry then took a stick and wrote 70 on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Now add to that another seventy, and cast it up, my boy," said
+grandmamma.</p>
+
+<p>"It comes," cried Henry, "to a hundred and forty; only think,
+grandmamma, you can remember people who were born a hundred and forty
+years ago: how wonderful!"</p>
+
+<p>"And the odd years are not counted," remarked Emily: "perhaps if we
+were to count them they might come up to a hundred and fifty."<!-- Page 422 --></p>
+
+<p>"Very likely, my dears," said the old lady; "so do you all sit still,
+and I will begin my story.</p>
+
+<p>"One hundred and, we will say, forty years ago, there resided near the
+town of Reading, in which I was born, a very wealthy family, descended
+from the nobility, though through a younger son.</p>
+
+<p>"There are some reasons why I shall not mention the real name, or
+rather the first name of the family, for it had two; I will therefore
+give the second, which was Vaughan. They had many houses and fine
+lands, amongst which was The Grove, the place which we have now.</p>
+
+<p>"The Mrs. Vaughan who was married one hundred and forty years ago was a
+very particular woman, and insisted on abandoning all her pleasant
+places in the country, and residing in a very dull and dismal
+old-fashioned place just at the end of one of the streets at Reading. I
+shall tell you more about that place by-and-by.</p>
+
+<p>"This lady had four daughters before she had a son; not one of these
+daughters ever married. They were reared in the greatest pride, and no
+one was found good enough to marry them. There was Mistress Anne, and
+Mistress Catherine, and Mistress Elizabeth, and Mistress Jane, for in
+these old days the title of Miss was not often used.</p>
+
+<p>"After many years, Mrs. Vaughan added a son to her family, and soon
+afterwards became a widow.</p>
+
+<p>"This son lived many years unmarried, and was what you, my children,
+would call an old man, when he took a young and noble wife. The
+daughter and only child of this Mr. Vaughan was about my age, and she
+is the person whose history I am going to tell you.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a picture of her at The Grove in the room in which your dear
+cousins spent many of their early days. It is drawn at full length, and
+is as large as life. It repre<!-- Page 423 -->sents a child, of maybe five years of
+age, in a white frock, placing a garland on the head of a lamb; behind
+the child, an old-fashioned garden is represented, and a distant view
+of The Grove house in which she was born."</p>
+
+<p>"But, grandmamma," said Henry, "you have not told us that little girl's
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"Her name was Evelyn," answered the old lady; "the only person I ever
+knew with that name."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is a pretty one," remarked Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"There were a great many people to make a great bustle about little
+Evelyn, when she came: there were her own mother and her father, and
+there were the four proud aunts, and many servants and other persons
+under the family, for it was known that if no more children were born,
+Evelyn would have all her father's lands, and houses, and parks, and
+all her mother's and aunts' money and jewels.</p>
+
+<p>"But, with all these great expectations, Evelyn's life began with
+sorrow. Her mother died before she could speak, and her father also,
+very soon after he had caused her picture to be drawn with the lamb."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little girl!" said Lucy; "all her riches could not buy her
+another papa and mamma. But what became of her then, grandmamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was taken," added the old lady, "to live under the care of her
+aunts, at the curious old house I spoke of as being close at the end of
+the town of Reading; and she desired to bring nothing with her but the
+pet lamb, which, by this time, was getting on to be as big as a sheep,
+though it still knew her, and would eat out of her hand, and would
+frisk about her.</p>
+
+<p>"The four Mistresses Vaughan were at the very head and top of formal
+and fashionable people. As far as ever I knew them, and I knew them
+very well at one time, they were all form, and ceremony, and outside
+show, in what<!-- Page 424 -->ever they did, until they were far, very far advanced in
+years, and had been made, through many losses and sorrows, to feel the
+emptiness of all worldly things. But I have reason to hope that the
+eyes of some of them were then opened to think and hope for better
+things than this life can give; but I shall speak of them as they were
+when Evelyn was under their care, and when I was acquainted well with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"The entrance to the house where they lived was through heavy stone
+gates, which have long since been removed; and along an avenue formed
+by double rows of trees, many of which are now gone.</p>
+
+<p>"I have often, when a little child, been taken by my nurse to walk in
+that avenue; and I thought it so very long, that had I not seen it
+since, I could have fancied it was miles in length."</p>
+
+<p>"That is just like me, grandmamma," said Henry; "when I was a little
+boy, I used to think that the walk through Mary Bush's wood was miles
+and miles long."</p>
+
+<p>"And so did I," added Emily; and then the story went on.</p>
+
+<p>"At the farthest end of this avenue," continued grandmamma, "the ground
+began to slope downwards, and then the house began to appear, but so
+hidden by tall dark cypress-trees, and hedges, and <i>walls</i>, I may call
+them, of yew and box and hornbeam, all cut in curious forms and shapes,
+that one could only here and there see a gable, or a window, or door,
+but in no place the whole of the front. The house had been built many,
+many years before, and it was a curious wild place both within and
+without, though immensely large. The way up to the door of the
+principal hall was by a double flight of stone steps, surmounted with
+huge carved balustrades. Nothing could, however, be seen from any
+window of the house but trees;<!-- Page 425 --> those which were near being cut into
+all sorts of unnatural forms, and those which were beyond the garden
+growing so thickly as entirely to shut out the rays of the sun from the
+ground below."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see that place, grandmamma," said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"You would see little, my child," replied the old lady, "of what it was
+seventy years ago. I am told that it is altogether changed. But if the
+place was gloomy and stiff without, it was worse within, where the four
+old ladies ordered and arranged everything. I can tell you how they
+passed their days. They all breakfasted either in their own
+dressing-rooms or in bed, being waited upon by their own maids."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did they do that, grandmamma?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you, my dear," answered the old lady. "At that time, when
+I was a little girl, and knew those ladies, people dressed in that
+stiff troublesome way which you may have seen in old pictures.</p>
+
+<p>"The ladies wore, in the first place, very stiff stays; and those who
+thought much of being smart, had them laced as tight as they could well
+bear. Added to these stays, they wore hoops or petticoats well
+stiffened with whalebone. Some of these hoops were of the form of a
+bell with the mouth downwards&mdash;these were the least ugly; others were
+made to stand out on each side from the waist, I am afraid to say how
+far; but those made for grand occasions were nearly as wide as your arm
+would be, if it were extended on one side as far as it would go. Over
+these hoops came the petticoats and gowns, which were made of the
+richest silk&mdash;for a gown in those days would have cost thirty or forty
+pounds. Then there was always a petticoat and a train; and these, in
+full dress, were trimmed with the same silk in plaits and flounces,
+pinked and puckered, and I know not what else. The sleeves were made
+short and<!-- Page 426 --> tight, with long lace trebled ruffles at the elbows; and
+there were peaked stomachers pinned with immense care to the peaked
+whalebone stays. It was quite a business to put on these dresses, and
+must have been quite a pain to walk in the high-heeled silk shoes and
+brilliant buckles with which they were always seen. They also wore
+watches, and equipages, and small lace mob caps, under which the hair
+was drawn up stiff and tight, and as smooth as if it had been gummed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am glad I did not live then!" said Lucy, fetching a deep breath;
+"yet it is very pleasant to hear these stories of people who lived just
+before we did; and there is no harm in liking it, is there,
+grandmamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"None in the least, my child," said grandmamma; "the persons who
+remember anything of those times are getting fewer and fewer every day.
+If young people, then, are wise, instead of always talking their own
+talk, as they are too apt to do, they will have a pleasure in listening
+to old persons, and in gathering up from them all they can tell of
+manners and customs, the very memories of which are now passing away.
+But now, Henry, my boy, you may understand why the Mistresses Vaughan
+always breakfasted in their own rooms; they never chose to appear but
+in their full dress, and were glad to get an hour or two every morning
+unlaced, and without their hoops.</p>
+
+<p>"About noon they all came swimming and sailing down into a large
+saloon, where they spent the rest of their morning. It was a vast low
+room, with bright polished oaken floors, and with only a bit of fine
+carpet in the middle of it. They each brought with them a bag for
+knotting, and they generally sat together in such state till it was
+time for their airing.</p>
+
+<p>"This airing was taken in a coach-and-four; and they generally went the
+same road and turned at the same<!-- Page 427 --> place every day but Sunday throughout
+the week. They dined at two, and drank tea at five; for though they had
+some visitors who came to tea, they were too high to return these
+visits. They finished every evening by playing at quadrille; supped at
+nine, and then retired to their rooms."</p>
+
+<p>"What tiresome people!" said Henry; "how could they spend such lives? I
+would much rather live with John Trueman, and help to thatch, than have
+been with them."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did they spend their Sundays, grandmamma?" asked Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"They went to church in Reading," answered the old lady; "where they
+had a grand pew lined with crimson cloth. They never missed going
+twice; they came in their coach-and-four; they did not knot on Sundays,
+but I can hardly say what they did beside."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy fetched a deep breath again, and grandmamma went on.</p>
+
+<p>"It was to this house, and to be under the care of these ladies, that
+little Miss Evelyn came, the day after her father's funeral. She was
+nearly broken-hearted.</p>
+
+<p>"The Mistresses Vaughan were not really unkind, though very slow in
+their feelings; so, after the funeral, they soothed the child, taking
+her with them from The Grove to their own house, where she afterwards
+always remained. But they did another unfeeling thing, without seeming
+to be aware of it: Evelyn's nurse had been most kind to her, but she
+unhappily spoke broad Berkshire, and was a plain, ordinary-looking
+person; so she was dismissed, with a handsome legacy left by her
+master, and the poor little girl was placed under the care of a sort of
+upper servant called Harris. Harris was charged never to use any but
+the most genteel language in her presence,<!-- Page 428 --> and to treat her with the
+respect due to a young lady who was already in possession of a vast
+property, though under guardians.</p>
+
+<p>"Three handsome rooms in one wing of the house on the first floor were
+given to the little lady and Harris; and an inferior female servant was
+provided to wait upon them in private, and a footman to attend the
+young lady in public. It was not the custom for young children then to
+dine with the family; the only meal, therefore, which Evelyn took with
+her aunts was the tea, when she saw all the company who ever visited
+them; her breakfast and dinner were served up in her own rooms.</p>
+
+<p>"She was required to come down at noon, and to go down and salute her
+aunts and ask their blessing; and whenever any one of them declined the
+daily airing, she was invited to take the vacant place as a great
+treat.</p>
+
+<p>"Her education was begun by Harris, who taught her to read, to use her
+needle, and to speak genteelly; it was afterwards carried on by masters
+from Reading, for her aunts had no sort of idea of that kind of
+education which can only be carried on by intellectual company and
+teachers. Harris was told that no expense would be spared for Miss
+Vaughan; that her dress must be of the first price and fashion; that if
+she desired toys she was to have them, and as many gift-books as St.
+Paul's Church-yard supplied.</p>
+
+<p>"As to her religious duties, Harris was to see that she was always very
+well dressed, and in good time to go to Church with her aunts; that she
+was taught her Catechism; and that she read a portion every day of some
+good book; one of the old ladies recommending the <i>Whole Duty of Man</i>,
+another Nelson's <i>Fasts and Festivals</i>, a third Boston's <i>Fourfold
+State</i>, whilst the fourth, merely, it is to be feared, in opposition to
+her sisters, remarked, half<!-- Page 429 --> aside to Harris, that all the books above
+mentioned were very good, to be sure, but too hard for a child, and
+therefore that the Bible itself might, she thought, answer as well,
+till Miss Vaughan could manage hard words. As Harris herself had no
+particular relish for any of the books mentioned, she fixed upon the
+Bible as being the easiest, and moreover being divided into shorter
+sections than the other three.</p>
+
+<p>"So Evelyn was to have everything that a child could wish for that
+could be got with money; and though Harris minded to the letter every
+order that was given her, yet she thought only of serving herself in
+all she did. In private with the child she laid praises and flattery
+upon her as thick as honey in a full honeycomb; she never checked her
+in anything she desired, so long as she did nothing which might
+displease her aunts, should it come to their knowledge; she scarcely
+ever dressed her without praising her beauty, or gave her a lesson
+without telling her how quick and clever she was. She talked to her of
+the fine fortune she would come into when she was of age; of her
+mamma's jewels, in which she was to shine; of the fine family houses;
+and, in short, of everything which could raise her pride; and there was
+not a servant about the house who did not address the little girl as if
+she had not been made of the same flesh and blood as other people."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little girl!" said Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry for her," remarked Emily; "she must have been quite spoiled
+by all these things."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," continued the old lady. "It was in a very curious way
+that I, many years afterwards, learned many particulars of the ways and
+character of this little girl in her very early years, before I was
+personally acquainted with her. After my eldest son was born, being in
+want of a nursemaid, Fanny, the very servant<!-- Page 430 --> who had waited on Miss
+Evelyn and Mrs. Harris, offered herself; and as I had known her well
+and loved her much, though I had lost sight of her for some years, I
+most gladly engaged her. She told me many things of Mrs. Harris and her
+little lady, which I never could have known otherwise. She said that
+Mrs. Harris was so much puzzled at the ways of the little girl, that
+she used often to speak of it to Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"'Miss Evelyn,' she said one day, 'is the queerest little thing I ever
+met with; I don't know where her thoughts are. When I am dressing her
+to go down to tea in the saloon, and putting on her nice smart dresses,
+and telling her to look in the glass and see how pretty she is&mdash;and to
+be sure she is as pretty as any waxwork&mdash;she either does not answer at
+all, as if she did not hear me, or has some out-of-the-way question to
+ask about her lamb, or some bird she has seen, or the clouds, or the
+moon, or some other random stuff; there is no fixing her to any sense.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Perhaps, Mrs. Harris,' Fanny said, 'she has heard your praises, and
+those of other people, till she is tired of them.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Pish!' answered Mrs. Harris; 'did you ever hear of anyone ever being
+tired of their own praises? The more they hear of them the more they
+crave them; but this child has not sense enough to listen to them. Do
+you know what it is for a person to have their wits a wool-gathering?
+Depend on it that Miss Vaughan, with all her riches and all her
+prettiness, is a very dull child; but it is not my business to say as
+much as that to the ladies; they will find it out by-and-by, that is
+sure. But it is a bad look-out for you and me, Fanny, with such chances
+as we have; for if Miss Evelyn was like other young ladies, we might be
+sure to make our fortune by her. I have known several people in my
+condition get such a hold on<!-- Page 431 --><!-- Page 432 --><!-- Page 433 --> the hearts of children of high
+condition, like Miss Vaughan, that they never could do without them in
+no way, in their after lives. But I don't see that we get on at all
+with this stupid little thing; though for the life of me <a name="page_433a_text"></a>I cannot tell
+what the child's head is running upon. She never opens out to me, or
+asks a question, unless it is about some of the dumb animals, or the
+flowers in the garden, and the trees in the wood.'</p>
+
+<p><a name="tn_pg_469"></a><!--TN: Period added after "433"-->
+<a name="image_431"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/431.png" border="0"
+ width="478" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>I cannot tell what the child's head is running
+on.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_433a_text">Page 433</a>.</p></div>
+
+<p>"'Or the moon or the clouds,' Fanny added. 'She asked me the other day
+who lived in the moon, and whether dead people went there.'</p>
+
+<p>"It is very clear, from the conversation between Mrs. Harris and Fanny,
+that Evelyn passed for a dull child, and had very little to say,
+because she had not found anyone since she had left The Grove who would
+talk to her in her own way and draw out her young ideas, and encourage
+her to tell her thoughts. Her father had encouraged her to talk to him
+in her own way whilst he was spared to her; and her nurse had been the
+kindest, best of foster-mothers. Though, to be sure, she did speak
+broad Berkshire, and though she was what learned people would call an
+ignorant woman, nurse had the strongest desire to do right, for she had
+been made to feel that God was the friend of His creatures. She felt
+sure that He would help those who behaved well; and she did what she
+could to teach what she knew to her little girl. She told her that she
+must be good, and not proud, or she would never go to the happy world
+where angels are. She told her also, that though her mother was gone
+into another world, she knew and was sorry when she was naughty.</p>
+
+<p>"Nurse was a particularly generous woman, and was always teaching the
+little lady to give things away; and she took great pains to make her
+civil to everybody, whether high or low.<!-- Page 434 --></p>
+
+<p>"Nurse had loved to be much out of doors, and Evelyn loved it as much;
+and the two together used to ramble all about the place, into the
+fields and yards where animals were kept, and into the groves and
+gardens to watch the birds and butterflies, and to talk to the
+gardeners and the old women who weeded the walks. Nurse was always
+reminding Evelyn to take something out with her to give away; if it was
+nothing else than a roll or a few lumps of sugar from breakfast; for
+Evelyn's mother, just before her death, had said to her nurse:</p>
+
+<p>"'My child may be very rich, teach her to think of the wants of the
+poor, and to give away.'</p>
+
+<p>"But the more happy Evelyn had been with her nurse, the more sad she
+was with Harris. There was not anything which Harris talked of that the
+little girl cared for, and the consequence was that she passed for
+being very dull; because when Harris was talking of one set of things,
+she was thinking of something very different.</p>
+
+<p>"When Harris wanted her to admire herself in her new frocks, when she
+was dressed to go down to tea, or at any other time, she was wishing to
+have her pinafore on, or that she might run down to her lamb, which fed
+in a square yard covered with grass, where the maids dried the clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Vaughan had died somewhat suddenly in the spring; the lamb was
+then only six weeks old. Evelyn came to live with her aunts immediately
+after the funeral; and the summer passed away without anything very
+particular happening.</p>
+
+<p>"It was Harris's plan to indulge Evelyn as much as she possibly could,
+though she did not like the child; and therefore, when she asked to go
+out, which, by her goodwill, would have been every hour of the day, she
+went with her. When she went to take anything to her lamb,<!-- Page 435 --> and to
+stroke it, or <a name="page_435_text"></a>to hang flowers about its neck, Harris stood by her. But
+if Harris did not like Evelyn, she hated her pet still more; she
+pointed out to Evelyn that there were young horns budding on its brow;
+that it was getting big and coarse, and, like other sheep, dirty; and
+said that it would soon be too big for a pretty young lady like Miss
+Vaughan to stroke and kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"'But I <i>must</i> kiss it,' answered Evelyn, 'because I got poor papa once
+to kiss it; and I always kiss it in the very same place, just above its
+eyes, Harris&mdash;exactly there.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Just between where the horns are coming, Miss Vaughan,' said Harris;
+'some day, by-and-by, it will knock you down when you are kissing it,
+and perhaps butt you with its horns, till it kills you.'</p>
+
+<p>"That same day Mrs. Harris told Fanny that she would take good care
+that Miss Vaughan's disagreeable pet should be put beyond her reach
+before very long&mdash;and, indeed, one fine morning, when Evelyn went down
+to the yard, the lamb was missing. There was much crying on the part of
+the little girl, and much bitter lamentation but her footman, having
+been told what to say by Harris, said to his little lady, that the
+young ram had got tired of the drying-yard, and had gone out into the
+woods to look for fresh grass and running water, and that he was
+somewhere in the park.</p>
+
+<p>"'And is he happy?' asked Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"'Very happy,' answered the footman; 'so don't cry about him, Miss.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I will go and see if I can find him,' said the child.</p>
+
+<p>"'You had better not go near him now,' said Mrs. Harris; 'when pet
+lambs become large sheep they often turn most savage on those who were
+most kind to them.'</p>
+
+<p>"'He knew me yesterday,' replied the child, 'and let<!-- Page 436 --> me stroke him.
+Would he forget me in one day?' and she burst into fresh tears."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry for her," said Henry, rubbing the sleeve of his pinafore
+across his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And there was one person who heard her," said grandmamma, "who was
+sorry for her also, and that was Fanny; but she did not dare to say
+anything because of Mrs. Harris."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady then went on:</p>
+
+<p>"When the summer was past, and the weather less pleasant, Mrs. Harris
+pretended to have a pain in her face, and instead of going out always
+with Evelyn, she sent Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"This was a pleasant change for the little lady. She found Fanny much
+more agreeable to her. And Fanny was surprised to find how Evelyn
+opened out to her during their walks.</p>
+
+<p>"For several days Evelyn led Fanny about the groves and over the lawns
+of the park to look for the lamb. They could not find him, but the
+child still fancied that he was somewhere in the park.</p>
+
+<p>"One morning Evelyn proposed that they should try the avenue, and look
+for the lamb in that direction. Fanny had no notion of contradicting
+Evelyn&mdash;indeed Harris had told her to keep her in good humour, lest she
+should tell her aunts that Harris seldom walked with her; so that way
+they went. They had scarcely got to one end of the long row of trees
+when they saw a plain-dressed woman coming to meet them from the other.
+Evelyn uttered a joyful cry, and began to run towards her; Fanny ran,
+too, but the little girl quite outstripped her.</p>
+
+<p>"It was nurse who was coming; she had been forbidden the house; but she
+had often come to the lodge, and often walked a part of the way along
+the avenue, if it were only for a chance of seeing her child.<!-- Page 437 --></p>
+
+<p>"Nurse was a widow, and had only one child living. He had a good
+situation in the school on the London road, which anyone may see at the
+entrance of the town. So nurse then lived alone, in a small house on
+that road.</p>
+
+<p>"How joyful was the meeting between Evelyn and her nurse! how eagerly
+did the little girl rush into those arms which had been the cradle of
+her happy infancy!</p>
+
+<p>"After the first moments of joy were past, they sat down on a fallen
+and withered bough, between the rows of trees, and talked long and long
+together; so long, that Evelyn was almost too late to be taken to her
+aunts at noon. They talked of many things; and the good nurse forgot
+not to remind Evelyn of what she had taught her by the desire of her
+mother; especially to remember to give; to be civil to all persons; to
+speak when spoken to; to say her prayers; and not to be proud and
+haughty.</p>
+
+<p>"The nurse also took care to tell Evelyn, that when she talked of
+giving, she wanted nothing herself, being in her way quite rich,
+through the goodness of Mr. Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"'So don't give <i>me</i> anything, my precious child, but your love.'</p>
+
+<p>"This meeting with nurse served the purpose of keeping alive all the
+simple and best feelings of Evelyn. The little one told her how her
+lamb had left her, and that they had been looking for it that very
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, my dear,' said the nurse, 'the poor creature is happier in the
+fields, and with its own kind, than you can make it; and if you are not
+too young to understand me, I would advise you to learn, from this loss
+of your lamb, henceforth not to give your heart and your time to dumb
+creatures, to which you can do little good, but to your own
+fellow-creatures, that you may help. Now, to make what I say plain,
+there is, at this very time, at the lodge, a pretty orphan boy, maybe
+two years of age, who has been<!-- Page 438 --> taken in for a week or so by Mrs.
+Simpson, at the lodge. She means to keep him till the parish can put
+him somewhere, for she cannot undertake to keep him without more pay
+than the parish will give, having a sick husband, who is a heavy burden
+upon her. Now, if you have&mdash;as I know you have&mdash;the means, why not help
+her to keep this little boy? Why not get some warm comfortable clothing
+for him, with your aunts' leave, and so help him forward till he wants
+schooling, and then provide for that?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I will do it, nurse; I will do it,' answered Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"'God bless you, my lamb!' said nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"And soon after this nurse and Evelyn parted; but they both cried
+bitterly, as Fanny told me.</p>
+
+<p>"The name of the baby at the lodge was Francis Barr; and, as Fanny
+said, he was a most lovely boy, with golden hair curling about his
+sweet face.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn had only to mention him to her aunts, and they immediately
+ordered their steward to pay so many shillings a week to Mrs. Simpson,
+and to give another sum for his clothing; and this was, they said, to
+be done in the name of Miss Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"They would have done better if they had let Evelyn look a little after
+the clothes, and, indeed, let her help to make them; but such was not
+their way; perhaps they thought Miss Vaughan too grand to help the poor
+with her own hands. But it is always easier for the rich to order money
+to be paid than to work with their own hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Harris was told of the meeting with the nurse by Evelyn herself;
+but the little girl did not tell her all that nurse had said, not from
+cunning, but because she was not in the habit of talking to Harris. She
+could not have told why she did not; but we all know that there are
+some people whom we never feel inclined to talk to, and we hardly know
+why.<!-- Page 439 --></p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Harris was, however, jealous of nurse, and thinking to put her
+out of her young lady's head, she used the liberty allowed her, and
+went one day to Reading, and bought a number of toys and gilt books."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what they were, grandmamma," said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanny did not tell me," answered the old lady, "and I had all this
+part of the story from Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn, she said, was pleased with them when they came, and put them
+all in a row on a side-table in her sitting-room, and changed their
+places several times, and opened the books and tried to read them; but
+she was hardly forward enough to make them out with pleasure. However,
+she picked a few out from the rest, and told Fanny to put them in her
+pocket; for her plan was, that Fanny was to read them to her when they
+went out, which was done.</p>
+
+<p>"The day after she had picked out the books, she asked for some paper
+and a pen and ink, and set herself to write, by copying printed
+letters. It was well she was in black, as she inked herself well before
+she had finished her letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Harris did not ask her what she was doing; that was not <i>her</i> way; but
+she looked at what she had written when it was done, and found it was a
+letter to nurse, blotted and scrawled, and hard to be read. When this
+letter was finished, the child asked Fanny for some brown paper, and in
+this she packed most of the toys and the letter, and having sent for
+her footman, she told him to get a horse and ride to nurse's and give
+her the parcel and the letter.</p>
+
+<p>"The man looked at Mrs. Harris, as doubting whether he was to obey.
+Mrs. Harris was sewing, and looked like thunder.</p>
+
+<p>"'Miss Vaughan,' she said, 'did I hear aright? Is that parcel to be
+taken to nurse's?'<!-- Page 440 --></p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, Harris,' answered Evelyn; 'those things are mine, and I am going
+to send them to nurse.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Upon my word, Miss Vaughan, you have chosen a very proper present for
+the old woman; she will be vastly amused with all those pretty things.'</p>
+
+<p>"This speech was made in much bitterness, and meant the very contrary
+to what the words expressed; but Evelyn thought she meant what she
+said, and she answered:</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, Harris, nurse will be so much pleased; I think she will put the
+things in a row on her chimney-piece.'</p>
+
+<p>"Harris, as Fanny told me, did not answer again immediately, but sat
+with her head stooped over her work, whilst Evelyn repeated her
+directions to Richard; and Richard looked for his orders to Mrs.
+Harris.</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't you hear what Miss Vaughan says, Richard?' she at length said,
+as she looked up with very red cheeks and flashing eyes; 'what do you
+stand gaping there for? Don't you know that all Miss Vaughan's orders
+are to be obeyed? Make haste and carry the parcel.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And tell nurse to read my letter,' said Evelyn; 'and to send me word
+if she has read it; she will be so glad, I know.'</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as Richard was gone, Harris called Evelyn to her, and, lifting
+her on her knee, she began to kiss and praise her, and to coax her, but
+not in the old way by telling her of her beauty and her grandeur, but
+by flattering her about her kindness and her gratitude to nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"'I love nurse, Harris,' answered Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"'And she deserves it too, Miss Vaughan,' replied Harris; 'she took
+care of you when you could not have told if you were ill-used. Little
+ladies should always remember those who were kind to them in their
+helpless years. Come now, tell me what nurse said to you when<!-- Page 441 --> you saw
+her last. I am sure she would tell you nothing but what was very good.'</p>
+
+<p>"'She told me,' said Evelyn, 'about my mamma being an angel; and she
+told me that if I was good, and not selfish, and gave things away, that
+I should go to heaven too; I should then, she said, be like a lamb
+living under the care of a good shepherd.'</p>
+
+<p>"Harris, on hearing this, as Fanny said, looked about her in that sort
+of wondering way which people use when they are thoroughly surprised;
+but it being very near twelve at noon, she had no time to carry on the
+discourse further then. Evelyn's frock required to be changed, and her
+hair put in order; and then, as the custom was, Mrs. Harris had to lead
+the child into the saloon to make her curtsey, and leave her till the
+bell rang to recall her.</p>
+
+<p>"When Harris had left the child with her aunts, she came up again to
+her own apartments. She came with her mouth open, being all impatience
+to let out her thoughts to Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"'Who would have guessed,' said she, 'that the wind blew from that
+quarter, Fanny? and here I have been beating about and about to find
+out the child, and trying to get at her in every way I could think of,
+all the while missing the right one.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What do you mean, Mrs. Harris?' said Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"'What do I mean?' answered Harris; 'why, how stupid you are, girl!
+have I not been trying to get to the child's heart every day these six
+months, by indulging her, and petting her, and talking to her of her
+pretty face and fine expectations, and all that? and has she not all
+along seemed to care as little for what I said as she would for the
+sound of rustling leaves?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Will you deny that it is very true?' answered Fanny;<!-- Page 442 --> 'I think she
+has heard of her grandeur and those things, till they are no news to
+her.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Maybe so,' answered Harris; 'but I never yet met with the person,
+young or old, who could be tired out with their own praises, however
+they may pretend.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I was never much tired in that way,' answered Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"'Maybe not,' said Mrs. Harris; 'what was anyone to get by honeying one
+like you? Well, but to return to this child. I did set her down to be
+none of the sharpest; but for once I think I was mistaken. It is not
+often that I am; but I have got a little light now; I shall get on
+better from this day forward, or I am much mistaken.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What light is it?' said Fanny.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, don't you see,' answered Harris, 'that young as Miss Evelyn is,
+that old nurse has managed to fill her head with notions about death,
+and heaven, and being charitable, and giving away; and that the child's
+head runs much, for such a child, on these things?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I cannot wonder at it,' answered Fanny, 'when one thinks how much the
+poor orphan has heard and seen of death.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And who has not heard and seen much of death, Fanny?' answered Mrs.
+Harris: 'but for all that we must live and make our way in life.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then, as if she thought that she might just as well refrain from
+opening herself any more to Fanny, she sent her away on some errand,
+and there the discourse ended. But not so the reflections of the young
+servant on what she had said; she had let out enough to make her quite
+understand a very great change, which took place from that day, in the
+behaviour of Harris to Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"She never spoke to her again about her beauty and riches; she never
+praised her on these accounts; but she<!-- Page 443 --> constantly spoke of her
+goodness in giving away, of her civility and courtesy, of her being so
+humble, of the very great merit of these things, and of the certainty
+that these things would make her an angel in glory."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the cunning, wicked woman!" cried Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Was not this sort of flattery more dangerous, grandmamma, than the
+other?" asked Lucy.</p>
+
+<p>But Emily said nothing; for Emily's besetting sin was vanity, and she
+felt that she should have been more hurt by the praises of her beauty
+than of her goodness.</p>
+
+<p>"By this new plan Harris gained more on Evelyn," continued grandmamma,
+"than she had done by the first, and the child, as time went on, became
+more attached to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Two years passed away after this affair of sending the toys to nurse,
+without many changes. Nurse was not allowed to see Evelyn again, though
+the little lady often sent her a note, and some little remembrance to
+nurse's son. Masters came from Reading to carry on Miss Vaughan's
+education; and she proved to be docile and industrious. She still kept
+up her love of being out of doors; and being of a friendly temper, she
+often visited the cottages close about, and took little presents, which
+caused the poor people to flatter her upon her goodness, as much as
+Harris did. She had no pet animal after she had lost her lamb; but she
+became very fond of Francis Barr, and often walked with Fanny to see
+him. He soon learned to know her, and to give her very sweet smiles in
+return for all her kindness; and when he could walk by himself, he
+always hastened to meet her.</p>
+
+<p>"He was nearly six years younger than Evelyn, and was, therefore, not
+much more than four during the summer in which she was ten.</p>
+
+<p>"In the early part of that summer she used to go with Fanny most days
+to the lodge, to teach little Francis his<!-- Page 444 --> letters, and talk to him
+about God; and they used to hear him say his prayers. Evelyn loved him
+very much, and Harris praised her before every one for her goodness to
+this poor orphan.</p>
+
+<p>"It would have been strange if all this dangerous flattery, together
+with the pleasure the dear child had in bestowing kindnesses, which,
+after all, cost her but little, had not so worked on her mind as to
+make her vain and self-satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"But her heavenly Father, who had guided her so far, was not going to
+leave her uncared for now. He who had begun the work with her was not
+going to leave it imperfect.</p>
+
+<p>"I am now come nearly to what I may call the end of the first part of
+my story, and to the end of the young, and sunny, and careless days of
+the life of dear Evelyn Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"These careless days, these days of young and comparatively thoughtless
+happiness, were suddenly finished in a very sad and awful way.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not enter into many particulars of that affair, because it will
+give you pain. In a few words it was this: Late one evening, in the
+summer, little Francis Barr was playing in the road, when a carriage,
+coming along at a full gallop, the horses having taken fright and
+thrown the postillion, came suddenly upon the poor child, knocked him
+down, and killed him on the spot. There was no time to send the news to
+the great house; and, as it happened, Evelyn and Fanny went the next
+morning, before breakfast, to give the little boy his lesson. When
+arrived at the lodge, they found the door open and no one within. Mrs.
+Simpson had just gone into the garden to fetch more flowers to lay over
+the little boy. Not seeing anyone in the kitchen, they walked into the
+parlour, and<!-- Page 445 --> there poor Evelyn saw her little loved one cold, yet
+beautiful, in death, having one small hand closed upon a lily, and the
+other on a rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn could not mistake the aspect of death; she uttered a wild
+shriek, and fell senseless to the floor. She was carried home, but she
+was very ill for many days; and I may truly say never perfectly
+recovered from that time.</p>
+
+<p>"But now, my dear children," added grandmamma, "I begin to feel tired,
+and have only finished half my story; if all is well, we will come here
+to-morrow, and then I shall hope to finish it."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it was to-morrow," said Henry: and his sisters joined in the
+wish.</p>
+
+<a name="tn_pg_482"></a><!--TN: Original reads "Page 445"-->
+<a name="image_445"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>To hang flowers round its neck.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_435_text">Page 435</a>.</p>
+<img src="images/445.png" border="0" width="223" height="350" ALT=""></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 446 -->
+<h3><a name="Grandmammas_History_of_Evelyn_Vaughan_Part_II" id="Grandmammas_History_of_Evelyn_Vaughan_Part_II"></a>Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part II.</h3>
+
+<a name="image_446"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/446.png" border="0" width="568" height="350" ALT="Miss Anne Vaughan led her niece by the hand"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">When</span> they were all seated, the next day, in the shade of Henry's
+arbour, grandmamma began her story without more delay.</p>
+
+<p>"I am now," she said, "come to the time when I became acquainted with
+Evelyn Vaughan myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I was left early without parents, my dear children; for my father died
+when I was a baby, and my mother when I was ten years of age. I was
+sent, after her death, being of course in deep mourning, to the school
+kept in the old Abbey at Reading, and there was then a very full
+school, above sixty girls. It was a large old house, added to a gateway
+which was older still; and it was called The Abbey, because it lay
+within the grounds of the ancient monastery, the ruins of which still
+remain, the gateway itself being a part of this very ancient
+establishment."</p>
+
+<p>"The school was kept by certain middle-aged unmarried sisters; and we
+had many teachers, and among these a Miss Latournelle, who taught us
+English after a fashion,<!-- Page 447 --> and presided over our clothes. I was under
+her care, and slept in her room, which was one of those in the gateway;
+and though she was always scolding me about some untidiness, she was
+very kind to me. She was young then, but always in my eyes looked old,
+having a limping gait, and a very ordinary person.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say what we were taught in that house beyond a few French
+phrases and much needlework. I was not there many years, but my
+school-days passed happily, for we were not exhausted with our
+learning, which in these days often destroys the spirit of children. We
+spent much time in the old and pleasant garden; and I had several dear
+friends, all of whom are now dead.</p>
+
+<p>"The first time that I saw Miss Evelyn was on the first Sunday I went
+to church with the school. We went to St. Lawrence's, which is near The
+Abbey, and we sat in the gallery, from which we had a full view of the
+pew then occupied by the Vaughans. They always came there, though not
+the nearest church, because they could not please themselves in seats
+in any other church in the town, and regularly came in their
+coach-and-four, and a grand footman went before them to open the door.
+Their pew was square and lined with crimson, and they always came
+rustling in, and making a knocking sound with their high heels on the
+pavement; they walked according to their ages, with this difference
+only, that the eldest Mistress Vaughan present always brought Evelyn in
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"We sat in the gallery just opposite to this pew, and I was in the
+first row; and as there was no teacher nor governess near us, I could
+whisper to the little girls near me about these ladies. 'Don't you
+know,' my next neighbour in the pew answered, 'that those are the
+Mistresses Vaughan, who live in the house beyond the lodges on the<!-- Page 448 -->
+Bath road; and that little one is Miss Vaughan, and she will have the
+largest fortune of any lady<a name="tn_pg_484"></a><!-- TN: Original reads "'ady"--> in England&mdash;and see how beautifully she is
+dressed?' We could not see her face, as she stood, but we could see her
+fine clothes."</p>
+
+<p>"Do tell us how she was dressed, grandmamma," said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"She wore a pink silk slip, with small violet flowers, or spots, and a
+laced apron, with a bonnet and tippet of violet silk. Oh, we did admire
+it! If she had not a hoop, her skirts were well stiffened with
+whalebone."</p>
+
+<p>"How curious!" said Lucy. "She must have looked like a little old
+woman."</p>
+
+<p>"The delicate fairness of her neck, and her lovely auburn curls,
+prevented that mistake, Lucy," replied grandmamma; "and then her way of
+moving, and her easy, child-like manner, showed her youth, if nothing
+else would have done so.</p>
+
+<p>"I had heard of Miss Evelyn before, but I had never seen her so near;
+and all the rest of that day I could think and talk of nothing but Miss
+Vaughan; and how I did long for a pink slip with violet spots.</p>
+
+<p>"The Sunday on which I saw Miss Vaughan for the first time at church
+was the first day of that week in which little Francis Barr was killed.</p>
+
+<p>"We did not see her again for many weeks. We were told of the sad
+accident, and of the severe illness of Evelyn which followed; and we
+all entered into the feelings of the little lady with much warmth.</p>
+
+<p>"It was late in the autumn when she appeared again at church; but,
+though we did not see her face, we could observe that she sat very
+still, and seemed once, whilst the psalm was being sung, to be crying,
+for she stooped her head, and had her handkerchief to her eyes. We were
+very sorry again for her, but our French teacher, when we<!-- Page 449 --> came home,
+said, 'Let her weep; she will console herself presently.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was, maybe, ten days after we had seen Miss Evelyn the second time
+at church, as some of us were sitting, on the eve of a half-holiday, on
+a locker in a window of the old gateway, that we saw the
+coach-and-four, with the Vaughan liveries, wheeling along the green
+open space before The Abbey gate; half a dozen of us at least were
+standing the next minute on the locker to see this wonder better.</p>
+
+<p>"Nearer and nearer came the carriage, with the horses' heads as if they
+were a-going through the arch; and when we were expecting to hear the
+rolling of the wheels beneath our feet, the carriage suddenly stopped
+right in front of the garden-gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Next came loud knockings and ringings without, and the running of many
+feet within the house, one calling to another, to tell that the
+Mistresses Vaughan were come, and had asked to see our governess.</p>
+
+<p>"We strained our necks to see, if we could, the ladies get out, but we
+were too directly above them to get a good view; and if we could, we
+were not allowed, for our French teacher came up, and made us all get
+down from the locker, shutting the window which we had opened, and
+saying a great deal about 'politesse' and the great vulgarity of
+peeping.</p>
+
+<p>"The house was as still as the mice in the old wainscot when they smelt
+Miss Latournelle's cat, whilst the ladies were in the parlour, for our
+teachers insisted on our being quiet; but as soon as we saw the coach
+bowling away, we all began to chatter, and to speak our thoughts
+concerning the occasion of this visit, which was considered a very
+great honour by our governesses."</p>
+
+<p>"Did the Mistresses Vaughan come to speak about<!-- Page 450 --> putting Evelyn to your
+school, grandmamma?" asked Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly so, my dear," replied the old lady; "I will tell you what
+they came for. Poor Evelyn had never recovered her quiet, happy spirits
+since the fright and the shock of her little favourite's death. Her
+mother had had a very delicate constitution, and had died early of
+consumption. Perhaps Evelyn had inherited the tendency to consumption
+from her mother, though neither her aunts nor Mrs. Harris had thought
+her otherwise than a strong child till after her long illness.</p>
+
+<p>"After she recovered from this illness, however&mdash;or rather seemed to be
+recovered&mdash;her spirits were quite gone; and she was always crying,
+often talking of death and dying, and brooding over sad things. When
+the family physician who attended her was told how it was, he advised
+that she should go to school, and mix with other children, and he
+recommended The Abbey.</p>
+
+<p>"The Mistresses Vaughan thought his advice good, so far as that Evelyn
+might be the better for the company of other children. But they said
+that no Miss Vaughan had ever been brought up at a school, for there
+were sure to be some girls of low birth, and that they could not think
+of their niece being herded with low people.</p>
+
+<p>"After a long discussion, however, the old ladies yielded so far to the
+opinion of the physician, that they determined to ask our governess to
+permit Miss Vaughan to come to them every dancing day, and to join in
+the dancing with the other girls.</p>
+
+<p>"It was to ask this favour that the four old ladies came to the Abbey;
+and it was then settled that Miss Vaughan was to come on every Friday
+evening to dance with us, and to take her tea in the parlour with the
+mistress.</p>
+
+<p>"This high honour was made known through the house<!-- Page 451 --><!-- Page 452 --><!-- Page 453 --> immediately after
+the ladies were gone. Miss Evelyn was to be brought the first time by
+her aunts, and afterwards by Mrs. Harris; and she was to come the very
+next Friday.</p>
+
+<p>"From that day, which was Wednesday, until the Friday afternoon, what a
+bustle were all in; what trimming, and plaiting, and renewing, and
+making anew, went forward! I was in deep mourning; and as Miss
+Latournelle kept my best bombazine, and crapes, and my round black cap,
+in her own press, I had nothing to think of; but our governess insisted
+that all the other young ladies should have new caps on the occasion;
+and as these were to be made in the house, there was enough to do.</p>
+
+<p>"I could smile to think of the caps we wore at that time; our common
+caps fitted the head exactly, and were precisely in the shape of bowls.
+They were commonly made of what is called Norwich quilt, such as we now
+see many bed-quilts made of, with a little narrow plaiting round the
+edge. My common black caps were made of silk quilted in the same way.
+Our best caps were of the same form: the foundation being of coloured
+silk or satin, with gauze puffed over it, and in each puff either a
+flower or a bit of ribbon, finished off to the fancy, with a plaited
+border of gauze, and larger bunches of flowers peaked over each ear."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, grandmamma!" cried Emily, "how strange! Did not the children look
+very odd then?"</p>
+
+<p>"The eye was used to the fashion," said the old lady; "there is no
+fashion, however monstrous, to which the eye does not become used in a
+little while.</p>
+
+<p>"By the time that all the caps were made, and all the artificial roses,
+and lilacs, and pansies duly disposed, it was time to dress. You have
+never been at school, or you would know <a name="page_453a_text"></a>what a bustle there is to get
+all the little misses ready on a dancing day.</p>
+
+<a name="image_451"></a><div class="figpage"><img src="images/451.png" border="0"
+ width="471" height="700" ALT="">
+<p class="caption">"<i>What a bustle there is to get ready on a dancing
+day.</i>"&mdash;<a href="#page_453a_text">Page 453</a>.</p></div>
+
+
+<p>"It was time to light the candles long before Miss<!-- Page 454 --> Latournelle
+mustered us and led us down into the dancing-room. This was a long, low
+room, having a parlour at one end of it, and at the other a kind of
+hall, from which sprang a wide staircase, leading to the rooms over the
+gateway; the balustrades of the staircase still showed some remains of
+gilding.</p>
+
+<p>"We were ranged on forms raised one above another, at the lowest end of
+the room, and our master was strutting about the floor, now and then
+giving us a flourish on his kit, when our youngest governess put her
+head in at the door, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Ladies, are you all ready? You must rise and curtsey low when the
+company appears, and then sink quietly into your places.'</p>
+
+<p>"She then retreated; and a minute afterwards the door from the parlour
+was opened, and our eldest governess appeared ushering in the four
+Mistresses Vaughan, followed by other visitors invited for this grand
+occasion. There was awful knocking of heels and rustling of long silk
+trains; and every person looked solemn and very upright.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Anne Vaughan, who came in first, led her niece in her hand, and
+went sweeping round with her to the principal chair, for there was a
+circle of chairs set for the company. When she had placed the little
+lady at her right hand, and when the rest of the company were seated,
+we on the forms had full leisure to look at this much envied object.
+There was not one amongst us who would not have gladly changed places
+with the little lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn Vaughan was an uncommonly beautiful girl; she was then nearly
+eleven years of age, and was taller than most children of her age, for
+she had shot up rapidly during her illness. Her complexion was too
+beautiful, too white, and too transparent; but she wanted not a soft
+pink bloom in her cheeks, and her lips were of a deep coral.<!-- Page 455 --> She had
+an oval face and lovely features; her eyes were bright, though
+particularly soft and mild; her hair of rich auburn, hanging in bright,
+natural ringlets; whilst even her stiff dress and formal cap could not
+spoil the grace and ease of her air.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, persons always accustomed to be highly dressed are not so put
+out of their way by it as those who are only thus dressed on high
+occasions; and dressed she was in a rich silk, with much lace, with a
+chain of gold and stud of jewels, silken shoes, and artificial flowers.
+We on the forms thought that we had never seen anything so grand in our
+whole lives, nor any person so pretty, nor any creature so to be
+envied.</p>
+
+<p>"The ladies only stayed to see a few of our best dancers show forth in
+minuets before tea, and then they withdrew: and as the dancing-master,
+who had always taught Miss Vaughan, was invited to join the tea-party,
+we went into the schoolroom to our suppers, and to talk over what we
+had seen. After a little while, we all returned to the dancing-room to
+be ready for the company, who soon appeared again.</p>
+
+<p>"We were then called up, and arranged to dance cotillons, and whilst we
+were standing waiting for the order to take our places, we saw our
+master go bowing up to Evelyn, to ask her to join our party. I saw her
+smile then for the first time, and I never had seen a sweeter smile; it
+seemed to light up her whole face. She consented to dance, and being
+asked if she would like any particular partner, she instantly answered:</p>
+
+<p>"'That young lady in black, sir, if you please.'</p>
+
+<p>"There was but one in black, and that was myself. The next moment I was
+called, and told that Miss Vaughan had done me the honour to choose me
+for a partner; and it was whispered in my ear by my governess, when
+she<!-- Page 456 --> led me up, that I must not forget my manners, and by no means take
+any liberty with Miss Vaughan. This admonition served only to make me
+more awkward than I might have been if it had not been given to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn had chosen me because she had heard it said in the parlour that
+the little girl in black was in mourning for the last of her parents.
+And I had not begun the second cotillon with her before she told me
+that she had chosen me for a partner because, like herself, I had no
+father or mother.</p>
+
+<p>"After this I was shy no longer; I talked to her about my mother, and
+burst into tears when so doing, for my sorrows were fresh.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn soon made herself acquainted with my name&mdash;Mary Reynolds&mdash;and
+we found out that we had been born the same year; and she said that it
+was very odd that she should have chosen a partner who was of her own
+age.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember no more of that evening; but the next Friday Miss Vaughan
+came again, accompanied by Mrs. Harris.</p>
+
+<p>"Harris played the great lady quite as well as the Mistresses Vaughan
+had done, acting in their natural characters; as she always, at home,
+took her meals with her young lady when in their own rooms, she was
+invited to tea in the parlour; and to please Evelyn, I was also asked,
+for I had been again chosen as her partner.</p>
+
+<p>"Our friendship was growing quickly; it was impossible to love Miss
+Vaughan a little, if one loved her at all. She was the sweetest,
+humblest child I had ever known; and she talked of things which,
+although I did not understand them, greatly excited my interest.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in October that Evelyn first came to dance at the Abbey, and
+she came every Friday till the holidays. We thought she looked very
+unwell the last time she came;<!-- Page 457 --> and she said she was sorry that some
+weeks would pass before she saw me again; she repeated the same to Mrs.
+Harris.</p>
+
+<p>"All the other children went home for Christmas, but I had no home to
+go to; and I saw them depart with much sorrow, and was crying to find
+myself alone, having watched the last of my school-fellows going out
+with her mother through the garden-gate, when Miss Latournelle came up
+all in a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"'Miss Reynolds,' she said, 'what do you think? You were born, surely,
+with a silver spoon in your mouth. But there is a letter come, and you
+are to go from church on Christmas Day in the coach to spend the
+holidays with Miss Vaughan. It is all settled; and you are to have a
+new slip, and crape tucker and apron, and a best black cap. Come, come,
+we must look up your things, and we have only two days for it; come
+away, fetch your thimble; and don't let me see any idleness.'</p>
+
+<p>"The kind teacher was as pleased for me as I was for myself; though she
+drove me about the next two days, as if I had been her slave.</p>
+
+<p>"When I found myself in the coach, on Christmas Day, all alone, and
+driving away with four horses to the great house at the end of the
+avenue, I really did not know what to make of myself. I tried all the
+four corners of the coach, looked out at every window, nodded to one or
+two schoolfellows I saw walking in the streets, and made myself as
+silly as the daw in borrowed feathers."</p>
+
+<p>The children laughed, and the old lady went on:</p>
+
+<p>"When I got to the lodge and the avenue, however, I became more
+thoughtful and steady. Even in that short drive, the idea of riding in
+a coach-and-four was losing some of its freshness, and deeper thoughts
+had come. I was a little put out, too, at the sight of the fine
+man-servant who opened the doors for me and led me upstairs.<!-- Page 458 --> The
+moment I entered Miss Evelyn's sitting-room, she ran up to me, and put
+her arms around my neck, kissing me several times.</p>
+
+<p>"'Dear, dear Mary,' she said, 'how very glad I am to see you! I shall
+be so happy! I have got a cough; I am not to go out till warm weather
+comes; and it is so sad to be shut up and see nothing but the trees
+waving, and hear nothing but the wind whistling and humming. But now
+you are come I shall be so happy!'</p>
+
+<p>"'I hope you will, Miss Vaughan,' said Mrs. Harris; 'and that your head
+will not always be running, as it has been lately, upon all manner of
+dismal things. Miss Reynolds, you must do your best to amuse Miss
+Evelyn; you must tell her all the news of the school, and the little
+misses; I dare say you can tell her many pretty stories.'</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn did not answer Harris, though she gave her a look with more
+scorn in it than I had ever seen her give before.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Vaughan had shown symptoms of great weakness in the chest&mdash;that
+is, Henry, in the part where people breathe. She had been directed by
+the physician to be kept, for some weeks to come, in her own rooms; and
+when this order was given, she had begged to have me with her.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that I was a comfort to her, and a relief to Harris; and
+Fanny, also, rejoiced to see me. I was with Evelyn several weeks, and
+the days passed pleasantly. I had every indulgence, and the use of all
+sorts of toys; dolls I had partly put aside; but there were books, and
+pictures, and puzzles; and when I went back to school I was loaded with
+them; not only for myself, but for my schoolfellows.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn seemed to be pleased to see me delighted with them, but she had
+no pleasure in them herself, any more than I have now; and once, when
+Harris said: 'Come,<!-- Page 459 --> Miss Vaughan, why can't you play with these things
+as Miss Reynolds does?' she answered: 'Ah, Harris! what have I to do
+with these? I know what is coming.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What is it?' I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't ask her, Miss Reynolds,' said Harris hastily; 'Miss Vaughan
+knows that she should not talk of these things.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, let me talk of them, and then I shall be more easy!' Evelyn
+answered. 'It is because I must not that I am so unhappy. Why have you
+put away my Bible and the other good books?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Because your aunts and the doctors say you read them till you have
+made yourself quite melancholy, Miss Vaughan; and so they have been
+taken away, but not by me. I have not got them. You must not blame me
+for what others have done; you know my foolish fondness, and that I can
+deny you nothing in my power to grant.'</p>
+
+<p>"We had two or three conversations of this kind; but Harris watched us
+so closely, that Miss Vaughan never had an opportunity of talking to me
+by ourselves; so that we never renewed, during those holidays, the
+subjects we had sometimes talked of at the Abbey.</p>
+
+<p>"I stayed at that time about six weeks with Miss Vaughan; and as she
+appeared to be much better and more cheerful, I was sent back to
+school, with a promise from my governesses that, if Miss Vaughan
+desired it, I was to go to her again at the shortest notice.</p>
+
+<p>"The spring that year was early, and some of the days in March were so
+fine, that the Mistresses Vaughan presumed to take their niece out in
+the coach without medical advice. Deeply and long did the old ladies
+lament their imprudence; but probably this affliction was the first
+which ever really caused them to feel.</p>
+
+<p>"About six days after the last of these airings, the coach<!-- Page 460 --> came to the
+school, bringing a request that I should be sent back in it instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Vaughan had been seized with a violent inflammation in the chest,
+attended with dreadful spasms. She had called for poor dear Mary, as if
+Mary could help her; and I was told that she was in a dying state. I
+sobbed and cried the whole way, for where were the delights then to me
+of a coach-and-four? I was taken immediately up to her bedroom, for she
+had called again for poor dear Mary. But, oh, how shocked was I when I
+approached the bed! Fanny was sitting at the pillow, holding her up in
+her arms: she was as pale as death itself; her eyes were closed, her
+fair hands lay extended on the counterpane, her auburn ringlets hanging
+in disorder. She was enjoying a short slumber after the fatigue of
+acute pain, for she then breathed easily. Near the bed stood Harris,
+with the look of a person at once distressed and offended. Miss Vaughan
+had preferred, in her anguish, to be held by Fanny rather than by her.
+She had often suspected Evelyn of not liking her, and the truth had
+come out that morning during her sufferings.</p>
+
+<p>"In the next room I could see the figures of the four Mistresses
+Vaughan, all in their morning dresses. The physician was with them; and
+when he saw me he arose, and came and stood by the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I know not how long it was before Evelyn opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Thank God,' she said, in a low, weak voice, 'it is gone for this
+time;' then added, as she saw me, 'Mary, Mary dear, don't go again.
+Fanny, is it you? but you will be tired. Might not nurse come, poor
+dear nurse?'</p>
+
+<p>The physician asked Harris what the young lady said. Harris pretended
+not to have heard. Fanny looked to me to speak, and I said:<!-- Page 461 --></p>
+
+<p>"'She wants her nurse, sir, her own nurse.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And where does this nurse live?' he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I told him, on the London road; I told him also her name. I spoke out
+boldly, though I felt the eyes of Harris upon me.</p>
+
+<p>"'I know the woman,' the doctor answered: 'she is a worthy person; she
+<i>must</i> be sent for.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Harris heard this she left the bedside and went to the ladies, to
+prevent, if possible, this sending for nurse. The reason she gave for
+its not being right to have the poor woman brought there was, that she
+was the first to put melancholy thoughts in the head of Miss Evelyn,
+and would be quite sure to bring the same things forward again. Mrs.
+Harris would have got her own way, if the physician had not insisted
+that Evelyn ought to see her nurse if she desired it; and he himself
+undertook to send for her. He had not far to send. Nurse had heard of
+her child's violent attack, and was no further off than the lodge.</p>
+
+<p>"From the time that Evelyn had mentioned her nurse, she had lain quite
+still, with her eyes closed, till the worthy woman came in. At the
+sound of the soft step with which the nurse came forward, she opened
+them and saw the person she loved best on earth. A sweet bright glow
+arose in her cheeks, and she extended both her arms as if she would
+have risen to meet her.</p>
+
+<p>"Though poor nurse, at the first glance, had seen death in the sweet
+features of her child, yet she commanded herself.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am come, my love,' she said; 'and rejoice to find you easy.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, it is gone&mdash;the pain is gone,' replied Evelyn: 'when it comes
+again I shall die. I know it, nurse; but come, and never go away. Take
+poor Fanny's place, and lay my head there&mdash;there,' she added.<!-- Page 462 --></p>
+
+<p>"'On my bosom,' said the nurse, 'where you used so often to sleep;' and
+she placed herself on the bed and raised her child so that she rested
+on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"At this moment Harris, whose eyes were flashing with every evil
+passion, brought a vial containing a draught which had been ordered.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn took it without a word, and then, laying her sweet head on
+nurse's bosom, fell into a long deep sleep&mdash;long, for it lasted some
+hours, and during that time only nurse and I were with her; nurse
+holding her in her arms, and I seated at the foot of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I had many thoughts during these hours of stillness&mdash;thoughts more
+deep than I had ever had before, on the vanity of earthly things and
+the nature of death.</p>
+
+<p>"The sun was descending behind the groves when Evelyn stirred, and
+began to speak. I arose to my feet; she still lay with one side of her
+face upon the nurse's bosom&mdash;that side, when she stirred her head a
+little, was warm and flushed; the other cheek was pale and wan.</p>
+
+<p>"'Nurse, nurse,' were the words she uttered.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am here, my child,' was the good woman's answer.</p>
+
+<p>"'You will not go,' said Evelyn; 'and Mary must not go, and Fanny must
+not go.'</p>
+
+<p>"The nurse raised her a little, still supporting her, whilst she asked
+me to ring the bell, and gave notice that Miss Evelyn was awake and was
+to have some nourishment which had been ordered.</p>
+
+<p>"Harris came in with something on a salver, Evelyn received it in
+silence, but did not forget to thank Harris, though even whilst taking
+it she whispered, 'Don't go, nurse.' Mrs. Harris heard the whisper, as
+I could see by the manner in which she went out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I was called away just then, to take some refreshment, and for this
+purpose I was taken to the room of Mistress<!-- Page 463 --> Catherine. She was there,
+and had been crying bitterly; she spoke kindly to me, and said she
+hoped that the sight of me would be a comfort to Miss Vaughan; but she
+seemed to be unable to talk much.</p>
+
+<p>"When I returned to Evelyn's room, I found that she had fallen again
+into a doze, and it was thought best for me to go to bed. I slept, by
+my own desire, with Fanny; but Fanny left me about midnight, to take
+her turn in attending the little lady.</p>
+
+<p>"She died at last somewhat suddenly, and very peacefully, like one
+falling asleep. The last word which she was heard to utter distinctly
+was the name of her Saviour.</p>
+
+<p>"I was present when she died, and went with her aunts to the funeral,
+where I cried till I was quite ill.</p>
+
+<p>"A few days before her death, she had asked to be left with her Aunt
+Catherine, and got her to write down several things which she wished to
+be done after her death. It was found, when the paper written by
+Mistress Catherine was read, that she had remembered everyone, and
+desired that Harris, and Fanny, and nurse's son, should all have
+something very handsome. All her toys and gayest dresses, and many
+ornaments and books, were to be given to me: and the poor whom she had
+loved and visited were all remembered.</p>
+
+<p>"That death was the cutting up of all the worldly prospects of the old
+ladies, for Evelyn was the last of that branch of the family. At the
+death of the youngest Mistress Vaughan, who lived to a very great age,
+the estates went into other hands, and The Grove was sold, and
+purchased by a gentleman whose son parted with it to your uncle. The
+very name of Vaughan is now nearly forgotten in that part of the world,
+excepting it may be by a few very old persons like myself."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;"><!-- Page 464 -->
+<h3><a name="Farewell_to_the_Old_Home" id="Farewell_to_the_Old_Home"></a>Farewell to the Old Home</h3>
+
+<a name="image_464"></a><div class="figtitle">
+<img src="images/464.png" border="0" width="574" height="334" ALT="Henry reminded her of the robin"></div>
+
+<p><span class="firstwords">Michaelmas</span> was the time fixed for their all moving to The Grove, and
+leaving that sweet place which was the only one the children had
+learned to love. Mrs. Fairchild had let August pass without saying much
+to her children about the moving, though she and Mr. Fairchild had been
+busy with many settlements.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fairchild had been at The Grove again, and come back again. He had
+settled that John was to have a part of the large garden under his
+care, and that no one was to meddle with him; and that he was to take
+charge of the old horse and carriage, and to go out with the children
+when they went abroad in it. Henry was to have leave to go to John,
+when he wished to work in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fairchild fixed on Betty to wait upon the children; she knew that
+they must have a maid, and she soon settled who that maid should be.</p>
+
+<p>"I know Betty," she said; "and I know I may trust her with my
+children."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tilney was very angry when she heard of this.<!-- Page 465 --></p>
+
+<p>"Well, to be sure," she said, "so Betty is turned into a young lady's
+governess; who could have thought it? How very ridiculous some people
+are!"</p>
+
+<p>When September came, Mrs. Fairchild reminded her children how near the
+time was come, and that they must think of preparing to move. When Lucy
+and Emily heard this, which they did one morning at breakfast, they
+could not help shedding a few tears.</p>
+
+<p>Their mother sent them out into the fresh air, saying she would have no
+lessons that morning, but giving no particular reason. The little girls
+were glad to be left to themselves, and they put on their bonnets and
+walked out, taking their way to the hut in the wood.</p>
+
+<p>It may be supposed what they talked of; they talked of the change that
+was coming, and the time which was gone. They made each other cry more
+by trying to remember things which had happened in every place they
+passed through. They went as far back as the time when Mr. Fairchild
+used to carry Henry in his arms when they went out, and only now and
+then set him down to walk. They had a story belonging to almost every
+tree, to the brook and the bridge, to each little path, and many for
+the hut at the end of their walk.</p>
+
+<p>In this hut they sat down and began to ask each other what neither
+could answer, whether it was likely they should ever come back to that
+dear place.</p>
+
+<p>"It is papa's, we know," said Lucy; "but then he will let the house,
+and we don't know who will have it; people always let houses which they
+don't live in. He said, one day, that he should let it. But," said
+Lucy, with a deep sigh, "I do not think we ought to cry so much; if
+grandmamma sees our eyes red, and asks the reason, we shall be obliged
+to tell her, and then she will think we do not like going with her."<!-- Page 466 --></p>
+
+<p>"Henry does not mind going," said Emily; "he likes it now John is to
+go."</p>
+
+<p>They were talking in this way, and had not yet succeeded in quite
+stopping themselves from crying, when they thought they heard a voice
+from the wood on the other side of the brook. They listened again, and
+plainly heard these words: "Lucy! Emily! where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>They came out to the mouth of the hut, and listened, but could not hear
+the voice again. Then there came the sound of steps, and they were
+frightened and ran back into the hut. The steps were heard more plainly
+as they pattered over the bridge, and, not a minute afterwards, who
+should appear before the hut but Bessy Goodriche! She was quite out of
+breath and all in a glow with running; her hair all in disorder, and
+her bonnet at the very back of her head. She could not speak for a
+moment, but her face was bright with joy. Lucy and Emily ran to her and
+kissed her, and said how she had frightened them.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little things!" she answered: "you would not do to be lost in a
+wood on a dark night. But I am come to tell you it is all settled,
+though, to be sure, you know it already; I am so glad and my aunt is so
+glad. No more chimneys to come down and clatter over our heads;&mdash;and
+then, you know, you can come whenever you like, the oftener the more
+welcome, and stay as long as you like, the longer the better. Aunt will
+have such pleasure in taking care of your poor old women&mdash;the
+pin-cushion and the housewife woman, I mean. But I am much afraid that
+I shall not make up your loss, good little things as you are, I shall
+never manage it; but I must try. I hope I have got the goodwill, though
+I have nothing else."</p>
+
+<p>In this place Bessy stopped for actual want of breath.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said Lucy; "what do you mean, dear Bessy?"<!-- Page 467 --></p>
+
+<p>"What is it? don't you know? How strange&mdash;no, it is not, neither; Mr.
+Fairchild said he should not tell you till it was settled; and so there
+can be no harm in telling it. And are you not delighted?&mdash;you don't
+look delighted. Your papa said that there could be nothing which would
+please you so much."</p>
+
+<p>"But what is it?" asked the little girls; "how can we be delighted,
+when we do not know what it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have not I told you?" asked Bessy; "I thought I told you at first.
+Why, we are to live in this place, and take care of it, and see that
+everything is kept in order; every tree, and every bench, and
+everything you love. How you stare!" added Bessy; "how round your eyes
+are! I don't mean this hut; did you think I meant that my aunt and I
+were to live in it, and take care of the benches?"</p>
+
+<p>"The house, the house?" answered Lucy, with a cry of joy; "are you and
+Mrs. Goodriche to have the house and the garden; and to take care of
+the poor people, and the school, and the hut, and the arbour, and the
+benches, and our little room, and the parlour, and the roses? Oh,
+Bessy, Bessy, dear Bessy, now am I glad indeed! and we will come to you
+here, and you shall come to us there. Oh, Emily, Emily, I am so happy!"</p>
+
+<p>The gentle eyes of Emily sparkled as brightly as Lucy's did, when she
+heard this news, though she said little; but she whispered to her
+sister, the next minute: "Now, Lucy, we should not have cried so much,
+it was not right."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy answered aloud: "No, Emily, we should not; but I hope that we
+shall cry no more. If the whole world had been picked, we could not
+have found any people we like so well to live here as Mrs. Goodriche
+and Bessy."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt is at the house, she is come to spend the day here; and Mr.
+Fairchild sent me here to look for you; and we shall come in when you
+go out; and things are to<!-- Page 468 --> be left as they are now, only a few to be
+moved. Aunt will sell her rubbish furniture, and we are to be so tidy,
+and I am to have your little room and bed."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will feed our poor robin," said Emily; "he has come every
+winter for a great many years, and he knows that window; but you must
+shut it after you have put out the crumbs, for fear of the cat. He
+knows us, and he will soon know you."</p>
+
+<p>As the three girls walked back to the house, they were quite busy in
+telling and hearing what things were to be attended to. Lucy and Emily
+felt like people who have had a tight cord bound over their hearts, and
+that cord had been suddenly cut, and they were loose.</p>
+
+<p>The three weeks which followed that day were a time of great bustle. On
+one evening all the children of the school came and had tea in the
+field behind the barn; and Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy came, that they
+might get acquainted with them.</p>
+
+<p>Another day all the old people whom the children loved were invited to
+dinner; and Mrs. Goodriche came also to make their acquaintance. No one
+went away without some useful gift; but these meetings and partings
+were sad, and made some wish they were in that blessed state in which
+there shall be no more sorrow, nor any more tears.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bush, and nurse, and Margery, however, said that if Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild must go, they could not have chosen anyone they should have
+liked so well as Mrs. Goodriche.</p>
+
+<p>All this bustle caused the few last days in the home of their childhood
+to pass more easily with the little girls; but when they rose for the
+last time, from that bed in which they had slept so long as they could
+remember, they both felt a sadness which they could not overcome.</p>
+
+<p>The breakfast was to be at an early hour, but, early as<!-- Page 469 --> it was, Mrs.
+Goodriche and Bessy had come before it was ready. They were to return
+again to their old house for a day or two, but they wished to see the
+last of their dear friends before their departure. Mr. Somers also came
+in immediately after breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>The coach from The Grove also arrived at the same time with Mr. Somers,
+for the horses and coachman had rested during the night in the village.
+Old Mrs. Fairchild always liked to be driven by the man she knew, and
+drawn by the horses she had often proved; and they were to travel
+slowly, and be three days on the road. Henry came flying in when the
+coach arrived; and Lucy and Emily ran up once more to their little room
+to cry again. Bessy followed them to comfort them, though she herself
+was very sad.</p>
+
+<p>John Trueman, who was at the house with his wife to take care of it
+till Mrs. Goodriche took possession, now brought out the old horse and
+carriage, in which John and Betty were to travel; and there was a great
+deal of packing and settling before anybody got in, for there were nine
+persons to go. The two Mrs. Fairchilds, and the two little girls, went
+inside the coach; Mr. Fairchild sat with Henry in an open seat in the
+back; and Mrs. Johnson was to go with Betty, John, and the magpie, in
+the old carriage. It was large and of the old fashion. When the old
+lady had taken her place, Lucy and Emily were called: they kissed Bessy
+again, and Henry reminded her of the robin. Then they ran down and
+kissed Mrs. Goodriche, and without looking round at any dear tree or
+window, or garden-seat or plot of flowers, they sprang into the coach,
+and felt for the first time that riding in their father's carriage was
+no cure for an aching heart. Their hearts ached, and their eyes
+continued to flow with tears, till they had passed the village and left
+it at some distance behind them; but as they were dragged<!-- Page 470 --> slowly up
+the steep hill, beyond the village, they took courage and looked out,
+and could just see a number of persons standing beneath the beech-trees
+on the top of the round hill. Someone was waving something white, and
+Henry was answering it by waving his handkerchief. Tears soon blinded
+the eyes of the little girls, and they drew back again into the coach,
+and did not look out again till they had got beyond the places which
+they had been well acquainted with in the young happy days which were
+now shut up in the past.</p>
+
+<p>When we leave a place which we have long lived in and much loved, how
+very soon do all the things which have passed begin to seem like dreams
+and visions; and how will this life, with all its pains and pleasures,
+troubles and distresses, seem to us when death is swallowed up in
+victory, and we shall be with the Saviour where sorrow never more can
+come?</p>
+
+<a name="image_470"></a>
+<div class="figbottom">
+<p class="caption">"<i>Someone was waving something white.</i>"</p>
+<img src="images/470.png" border="0" width="279" height="335" ALT=""></div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p style="text-decoration: overline;text-align:center;font-size:.85em;"><i>Wells Gardner, Darton and Co., 3, Paternoster Buildings, London</i></p><!-- Page 471 -->
+
+<p class="figpage"><a name="back_cover"></a><img src="images/back_cover.jpg" alt="Back Cover: The Fairchild Family" width="482" height="700" border="1"></p>
+
+<h3 style="padding-top: 4em;" class="newpg">Transcriber's Note</h3>
+
+<p class="indentedcentered">Inconsistent hyphenation of words such as band-box,
+play-ground, school-room, maid-servant, farm-house, bed-time, play-room, post-boy,
+school-fellow, corn-field, store-room, tea-cup, and work-bag has been retained.
+Minor typographical corrections are documented in the source
+code&mdash;search for "&lt;!--TN:"</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Fairchild Family, by Mary Martha Sherwood
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fairchild Family, by Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Fairchild Family
+
+Author: Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+Editor: Mary E. Palgrave
+
+Illustrator: Florence M. Rudland
+
+Release Date: August 19, 2009 [EBook #29725]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Linda Hamilton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY
+
+BY Mrs. SHERWOOD
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "_Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children, Lucy, Emily
+and Henry._"--Page 1.]
+
+
+
+
+  THE FAIRCHILD
+  FAMILY
+
+  BY Mrs.
+  SHERWOOD
+
+  EDITED WITH
+  INTRODUCTION
+  BY
+  MARY E.
+  PALGRAVE
+
+  WITH
+  ILLUSTRATIONS
+  BY
+  FLORENCE M.
+  RUDLAND
+
+  NEW YORK
+  FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
+  PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+Introduction
+
+
+The History of Lucy, Emily, and Henry Fairchild was begun in 1818,
+nearly a century ago. The two little misses and their brother played
+and did lessons, were naughty and good, happy and sorrowful, when
+George III. was still on the throne; when gentlemen wore blue coats
+with brass buttons, knee-breeches, and woollen stockings; and ladies
+were attired in short waists, low necks, and long ringlets. The Battle
+of Waterloo was quite a recent event; and the terror of "Boney" was
+still used by nursery maids to frighten their charges into good
+behaviour.
+
+Perhaps some of those who take up this book and glance at its
+title-page are saying to themselves. We have plenty of stories about
+the children of to-day--the children of the twentieth century, not of
+the early nineteenth. How should it interest us to read of these little
+ones of the time of our great-grandparents, whose lives were so dull
+and ideas so old-fashioned; who never played cricket or tennis, or went
+to London or to the seaside, or rode bicycles, or did any of the things
+we do?
+
+To anyone who is debating whether or no he will read the _Fairchild
+Family_, I would say, Try a chapter or two before you make up your
+mind. It is not what people _do_, but what they _are_ that makes them
+interesting. True enough, Lucy, Emily and Henry led what we should call
+nowadays very dull lives; but they were by no means dull little people
+for all that. We shall find them very living and real when we make
+acquaintance with them. They tore their clothes, and lost their pets,
+and wanted the best things, and slapped each other when they disagreed.
+They had their good times and their bad times, their fun and frolic and
+their scrapes and naughtiness, just as children had long before they
+were born and are having now, long, long after they are dead.
+
+In fact, as we get to know them--and, I hope, to love them--we shall
+realize, perhaps with wonder, how very like they are to the children of
+to-day. If they took us by the hand and led us to their playroom, or
+into "Henry's arbour" under the great trees, we should make friends
+with them in five minutes, even though they wear long straight skirts
+down to their ankles and straw bonnets burying their little faces, and
+Henry is attired in a frock and pinafore, albeit he is eight years old.
+We should have glorious games with them, following the fleet Lucy
+running like a hare; we should kiss them when we went away, and reckon
+them ever after among our friends.
+
+And so, as we follow the _History of the Fairchild Family_ we shall
+understand, better than we have yet done, how children are children
+everywhere, and very much the same from generation to generation.
+Knowing Lucy and Emily and Henry will help us to feel more sympathy
+with other children of bygone days, the children of our history
+books--with pretty Princess Amelia, and the little Dauphin in the
+Bastille, with sweet Elizabeth Stuart, the "rose-bud born in snow" of
+Carisbrook Castle, and a host of others. They were _real_ children too,
+who had real treats and real punishments, real happy days and sad ones.
+They felt and thought and liked and disliked much the same things as we
+do now. We stretch out our hands to them across the misty centuries,
+and hail them our companions and playmates.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Few people nowadays, even among those who know the _Fairchild Family_,
+know anything of its writer, Mrs. Sherwood. Yet her life, as told by
+herself, is as amusing as a story, and as full of incidents as a life
+could well be. When she was a very old woman she wrote her
+autobiography, helped by her daughter; and from this book, which has
+been long out of print, I will put together a short sketch which will
+give you some idea of what an interesting and attractive person she
+was.
+
+The father of Mrs. Sherwood--or, to give her her maiden name, Mary
+Butt--was a clergyman. He had a beautiful country living called
+Stanford, in Worcestershire, not far from Malvern, where Mary was born
+on May 6, 1775. She had one brother, a year older than herself, and a
+sister several years younger, whose name was Lucy.
+
+Mary Butt's childhood, in her beautiful country home, was very happy.
+She was extremely tall for her age, strong and vigorous, with glowing
+cheeks and dark eyes and "very long hair of a bright auburn," which she
+tells us her mother had great pleasure in arranging. She and her
+brother Marten were both beautiful children; but no one thought Mary at
+all clever, or fancied what a mark she would make in the world by her
+writings.
+
+Mary was a dreamy, thoughtful child, full of fancies and imaginings.
+She loved to sit on the stairs, listening to her mother's voice singing
+sweetly in her dressing-room to her guitar. She had wonderful fancies
+about an echo which the children discovered in the hilly grounds round
+the rectory. Echo she believed to be a beautiful winged boy; "and I
+longed to see him, though I knew it was in vain to attempt to pursue
+him to his haunts; neither was Echo the only unseen being who filled my
+imagination." Her mother used to tell her and Marten stories in the
+dusk of winter evenings; one of those stories she tells again for other
+children in the _Fairchild Family_. It is the tale of the old lady who
+was so fond of inviting children to spend a day with her.
+
+The first grand event of Mary's life was a journey taken to Lichfield,
+to stay with her grandfather, old Dr. Butt, at his house called Pipe
+Grange. She was then not quite four years old. Dr. Butt had been a
+friend, in former days, of Maria Edgeworth, who wrote the _Parents'
+Assistant_ and other delightful stories; of Mr. Day, author of
+_Sandford and Merton_; and other clever people then living at
+Lichfield. He knew the great actor, David Garrick, too, who used to
+come there to see his brother; and the famous Dr. Samuel Johnson, who
+had been born and brought up at Lichfield. But to little Mary, scarcely
+more than a baby, these things were not of much interest. What she
+recollected of her grandfather was his present to her, on her fourth
+birthday, of "a doll with a paper hoop and wig of real flax." And her
+memories of Pipe Grange were of walks with her brother and nurse in
+green lanes; of lovely commons and old farmhouses, with walls covered
+with ivy and yew-trees cut in grotesque forms; of "feeding some little
+birds in a hedge, and coming one day and finding the nest and birds
+gone, which was a great grief to me."
+
+Soon afterwards the nursery party at Stanford was increased by two
+little cousins, Henry and Margaret Sherwood. They had lost their
+mother, and were sent to be for a time under the care of their aunt,
+Mrs. Butt. They joined in the romps of Marten and Mary, and very lively
+romps they seem to have been. Mary describes how her brother used to
+put her in a drawer and kick it down the nursery stairs; how he heaped
+chairs and tables one on the other, set her at the top of them, and
+then threw them all down; how he put a bridle round her neck and drove
+her about with a whip. "But," she says, "being a very hardy child, and
+not easily hurt, I suppose I had myself to blame for some of his
+excesses; for with all this he was the kindest of brothers to me, and I
+loved him very, very much."
+
+When Mary was six years old she began to make stories, but she tells us
+she had not the least recollection of what they were about. She was not
+yet able to write, so whenever she had thought out a story, she had to
+follow her mother about with a slate and pencil and get her to write at
+her dictation. The talk Mary and Marten heard while sitting at meals
+with their parents was clever and interesting. Many visitors came to
+the house, and after a while there were several young men living there,
+pupils of Mr. Butt, so that there was often a large party. The two
+little children were never allowed to interrupt, but had to sit and
+listen, "whether willing or not"; and in this way the shrewd and
+observant Mary picked up endless scraps of knowledge while still very
+young. She tells us a good deal about her education in these early
+days. "It was the fashion then for children to wear iron collars round
+the neck, with a backboard strapped over the shoulders; to one of these
+I was subjected from my sixth to my thirteenth year. It was put on in
+the morning, and seldom taken off till late in the evening, and I
+generally did all my lessons standing in stocks, with this stiff collar
+round my neck. At the same time I had the plainest possible food, such
+as dry bread and cold milk. I never sat on a chair in my mother's
+presence. Yet I was a very happy child, and when relieved from my
+collar I not unseldom manifested my delight by starting from our
+hall-door and taking a run for at least half a mile through the woods
+which adjoined our pleasure grounds."
+
+Marten, meanwhile, was having a much less strict and severe time of it.
+Mr. Butt was an easy-going man, who liked everything about him to be
+comfortable and pretty, and was not inclined to take much trouble
+either with himself or others. While Mary was with her mother in her
+dressing-room, working away at her books, Marten was supposed to be
+learning Latin in his father's study. But as Mr. Butt had no idea of
+authority, Marten made no progress whatever, and the end of it was that
+good Mrs. Butt had to teach herself Latin, in order to become her boy's
+tutor; and Mary was made to take it up as well, in order to incite him
+to learn.
+
+The children were great readers, though their books were few. _Robinson
+Crusoe_; two sets of fairy tales; _The Little Female Academy_; and
+_AEsop's Fables_ made up their whole library. _Robinson Crusoe_ was
+Marten's favourite book; his wont, when a reading fit was on, was to
+place himself on the bottom step of the stairs and to mount one step
+every time he turned over a page. Mary, of course, copied him exactly.
+Another funny custom with the pair was, on the first day of every
+month, to take two sticks, with certain notches cut in them, and hide
+them in a hollow tree in the woods. There was a grand mystery about
+this, though Mary does not tell us in what it consisted. "No person,"
+she says, "was to see us do this, and no one was to know we did it."
+
+In the summer that Mary was eight years old, a quaint visitor came to
+Stanford Rectory. This was a distant relative who had married a
+Frenchman and lived at Paris through the gay and wicked period which
+ushered in the French Revolution. Mary's description of this lady and
+her coming to the rectory is very amusing: "Never shall I forget the
+arrival of Mme. de Peleve at Stanford. She arrived in a post-chaise
+with a maid, a lap-dog, a canary-bird, an organ, and boxes heaped upon
+boxes till it was impossible to see the persons within. I was, of
+course, at the door to watch her alight. She was a large woman,
+elaborately dressed, highly rouged, carrying an umbrella, the first I
+had seen. She was dark, I remember, and had most brilliant eyes. The
+style of dress at that period was perhaps more preposterous and
+troublesome than any which has prevailed within the memory of those now
+living. This style had been introduced by the ill-fated Marie
+Antoinette, and Mme. de Peleve had come straight from the very
+fountain-head of these absurdities. The hair was worn crisped or
+violently frizzed about the face in the shape of a horse-shoe; long
+stiff curls, fastened with pins, hung on the neck; and the whole was
+well pomatumed and powdered with different coloured powders. A high
+cushion was fastened at the top of the hair, and over that either a cap
+adorned with artificial flowers and feathers to such a height as
+sometimes rendered it somewhat difficult to preserve its equilibrium,
+or a balloon hat, a fabric of wire and tiffany, of immense
+circumference. The hat would require to be fixed on the head with long
+pins, and standing, trencherwise, quite flat and unbending in its full
+proportions. The crown was low, and, like the cap, richly set off with
+feathers and flowers. The lower part of the dress consisted of a full
+petticoat generally flounced, short sleeves, and a very long train; but
+instead of a hoop there was a vast pad at the bottom of the waist
+behind, and a frame of wire in front to throw out the neckerchief, so
+as much as possible to resemble the craw of a pigeon.
+
+"Such were the leading articles of this style of dress, and so arranged
+was the figure which stepped forth from the chaise at the door of the
+lovely and simple parsonage of Stanford. My father was ready to hand
+her out, my mother to welcome her. The band-boxes were all conveyed
+into our best bedroom, while Madame had her place allotted to her in
+our drawing-room, where she sat like a queen, and really, by the
+multitudes of anecdotes she had to tell, rendered herself very
+agreeable. Whilst she was with us she never had concluded her toilet
+before one or two in the day, and she always appeared either in new
+dresses or new adjustments. I have often wished that I could recall
+some of the anecdotes she used to tell of the Court of Versailles, but
+one only can I remember; it referred to the then popular song of
+'Marlbrook,' which she used to sing. 'When the Dauphin,' she said, 'was
+born, a nurse was procured for him from the country, and there was no
+song with which she could soothe the babe but 'Marlbrook,' an old
+ballad, sung till then only in the provinces. The poor Queen heard the
+air, admired, and brought it forward, making it the fashion.' This is
+the only one of Mme. de Peleve's stories which I remember, although I
+was very greatly amused by them, and could have listened to her for
+hours together. My admiration was also strongly excited by the
+splendour and varieties of her dresses, her superb trimmings, her
+sleeves tied with knots of coloured ribbon, her trains of silk, her
+beautiful hats, and I could not understand the purpose for which she
+took so much pains to array herself."
+
+I think when we read of Miss Crosbie's arrival at Mr. Fairchild's, and
+the time she kept them all waiting for supper while she changed her
+gown, we shall be reminded of these early recollections of Mrs.
+Sherwood's. A year or two later this quaint Madame came again on a
+visit to Stanford; and on this occasion, as Mary tells us, she put it
+into the little girl's head, for the first time, to wonder whether she
+were pretty or no. "No sooner was dinner over," she says, "than I ran
+upstairs to a large mirror to make the important inquiry, and at this
+mirror I stood a long time, turning round and examining myself with no
+small interest." Madame de Peleve further encouraged her vanity by
+making her a present of "a gauze cap of a very gay description." It
+must have looked odd and out of place perched on the top of the little
+girl's "very long hair and very rosy cheeks." Another of Mme. de
+Peleve's not very judicious presents was "a shepherdess hat of pale
+blue silver tiffany." But as this hat had to be fastened on with
+"large, long corking-pins," it proved "a terrible evil" to its wearer;
+which, perhaps, was just as well!
+
+By this time dear brother Marten had been sent away to school at
+Reading; but little Lucy was growing old enough to be something of a
+playmate; and Margaret, the motherless cousin, had been brought again
+to Stanford on a long visit. We can fancy what a delightful companion
+to these two small ones Mary must have been. She had left off, for the
+time, writing stories, but she was never tired of telling them. In
+company she was, in those days, very silent and shy, and much at a loss
+for words; but they never failed her when telling her stories to her
+little companions. Her head, she says, was full of "fairies, wizards,
+enchanters, and all the imagery of heathen gods and goddesses which I
+could get out of any book in my father's study," and with these she
+wove the most wonderful tales, one story often going on, at every
+possible interval, for months together. Her lively imagination "filled
+every region of the wild woods at Stanford with imaginary people.
+Wherever I saw a few ashes in a glade, left by those who burnt sticks
+to sell the ashes to assist in the coarse washings in farmhouses, I
+fixed a hoard of gipsies and made long stories. If I could discern
+fairy rings, which abounded in those woods, they gave me another set of
+images; and I had imaginary hermits in every hollow of the rocky sides
+of the dingle, and imaginary castles on every height; whilst the church
+and churchyard supplied me with more ghosts and apparitions than I
+dared to tell of." Mary and her stories must have been better worth
+having than a whole library of "fairy-books."
+
+One source from which Mary drew her tales was a collection of old
+volumes which her father had bought at a sale and to which her mother
+had given up a room over the pantry and storeroom. Mr. Butt made Mary
+his librarian; and she revelled in old romances, such as Sir Philip
+Sydney's _Arcadia_, and in illustrated books of travel; spending many
+hours on a high stool in the bookroom, among "moths, dust, and black
+calf-skin," studying these treasures.
+
+One more glimpse must be given of those happy child-days, and we will
+have it in Mary's own words: "I grew so rapidly in my childhood, that
+at thirteen I had obtained my full height, which is considered above
+the usual standard of women. I stooped very much when thus growing. As
+my mother always dressed me like a child in a pinafore, I must
+certainly have been a very extraordinary sort of personage, and
+everyone cried out on seeing me as one that was to be a giantess. As my
+only little friend of about my own age was small and delicate, I was
+very often thoroughly abashed at my appearance; and therefore never was
+I so happy as when I was out of sight of visitors in my own beloved
+woods of Stanford. In those sweet woods I had many little embowered
+corners, which no one knew but myself; and there, when my daily tasks
+were done, I used to fly with a book and enjoy myself in places where I
+could hear the cooing of doves, the note of the blackbird, and the rush
+of two waterfalls coming from two sides of the valley and meeting
+within the range where I might stroll undisturbed by anyone. It must be
+noticed that I never made these excursions without carrying a huge
+wooden doll with me, which I generally slung with a string round my
+waist under my pinafore, as I was thought by the neighbours too big to
+like a doll. My sister, as a child, had not good health, and therefore
+she could bear neither the exposure nor fatigue I did; hence the reason
+wherefore I was so much alone. From this cause, too, she was never
+submitted to the same discipline that I was; she was never made so
+familiar with the stocks and iron collar, nor the heavy tasks; for
+after my brother was gone to school I still was carried on in my Latin
+studies, and even before I was twelve I was obliged to translate fifty
+lines of Virgil every morning, standing in these same stocks, with the
+iron collar pressing on my throat."
+
+When Mary was between twelve and thirteen a great change came in her
+life. Her father was presented to the vicarage of Kidderminster in
+Staffordshire, where the carpets are made. It was then a very rich
+living. It was settled that they should go to Kidderminster to live,
+while a curate was to do duty at Stanford and occupy the rectory. In
+those days clergymen often held two or even three livings at once in
+different parts of the country, taking the stipends themselves, and
+putting a curate in charge of whichever parishes they did not choose to
+reside in.
+
+Mary was pleased at the idea of a change, as children generally are;
+and so was her father, who loved society and the noise and bustle of a
+town. But to poor Mrs. Butt, who was a very shy, timid, retiring
+person, the idea of exchanging "the glorious groves of Stanford for a
+residence in a town, where nothing is seen but dusty houses and dyed
+worsted hanging to dry on huge frames in every open space," was
+terrible. Mary could well remember how, during that summer, her mother
+walked in the woods, crying bitterly and fretting over the coming
+change till her health suffered.
+
+Life in the big manufacturing town was much less wild and free than it
+had been in the Worcestershire parsonage; but the two little girls
+managed to be very happy in their own way. For one thing, they had a
+bedroom looking into the street, and a street was a new thing to them,
+and they spent every idle moment in staring out of the windows. They
+had a cupboard in which they kept their treasures--a dolls' house which
+they had brought from Stanford, and all the books they had hoarded up
+from childhood; "these, with two white cats, which we had also brought
+from Stanford, happily afforded us much amusement." Mary's rage for
+dolls was, moreover, at its height, though she more than ever took
+pains to hide her darlings, under her pinafore, from the eyes of
+Kidderminster.
+
+Most of all, however, they amused themselves, when alone, by talking
+together in characters, keeping to the same year after year, till at
+length the play was played out. "We were both queens," Mary tells us,
+"and we were sisters, and were supposed to live near each other, and we
+pretended we had a great many children. In our narratives we allowed
+the introduction of fairies, and I used to tell long stories of things
+and places and adventures which I feigned I had met with in this my
+character of queen. The moment we two set out to walk, we always began
+to converse in these characters. My sister used generally to begin
+with, 'Well, sister, how do you do to-day? How are the children? Where
+have you been?' and before we were a yard from the house we were deep
+in talk. Oh, what wonderful tales was I wont to tell of things which I
+pretended I had seen, and how many, many happy hours have I and my
+sister spent in this way, I being the chief speaker."
+
+Not long after their coming to Kidderminster, Mary's father took her
+with him on a visit to a large country house in Shropshire. They drove
+all the way in a gig, a man-servant riding behind on horseback. They
+reached the house just in time to dress for dinner, at which there was
+to be a large party. Mary had to put on her "very best dress, which,"
+she tells us, "was a blue silk slip, with a muslin frock over it, a
+blue sash, and, oh! sad to say, my silver tiffany hat. I did not dare
+but wear it, as it had been sent with me."
+
+A maid had been told off to dress Mary, and "great was the pains which
+she took to fix my shepherdess hat on one side, as it was intended to
+be worn, and to arrange my hair, which was long and hanging in curls;
+but what would I not have given to have got rid of the rustling
+tiffany!" Mary describes her consternation when she reached the
+drawing-room in this array, and found "a number of great people" there,
+but no other child to consort with. When everybody went to walk in the
+shrubberies after dinner, and a gentleman offered her his arm, as was
+the wont in those days, she was so panic-stricken that she darted up a
+bank, through the shrubs and away, and showed herself no more that
+evening.
+
+The next thing that happened was that the other little cousin before
+mentioned, Henry Sherwood, came to live with the Butts and go to a
+day-school in the town. Mary recalls him as she saw him on arriving--a
+very small, fair-haired boy, dressed in "a full suit of what used to be
+called pepper-and-salt cloth." He soon settled down in his new home, "a
+very quiet little personage, very good-tempered, and very much in awe
+of his aunt," with a fame among his cousins for his talent for making
+paper boxes one within another. His bed was in an attic, next door to
+his big cousin Marten's room. Marten had a shelf full of books, which
+Henry used to carry off to his own domain and read over and over again.
+From these books he first dated an intense love of reading which was
+destined to be his chief stand-by in old age. We shall not wonder that
+Mary loved to recall her early remembrances of this little school-boy
+when we know that, several years later, he became her husband, with
+whom she spent a long and happy married life.
+
+Mary has other amusing recollections of this time of her early
+girlhood, and tells them in her own charming way; but we must pass on
+to her school life, which is bound to interest her readers of to-day,
+so many of whom go to school. It was the summer of 1790. Mr. Butt had
+been taking his turn of duty at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, being by
+this time one of the chaplains to the King. On his way home he stopped
+at Reading to visit his friend Dr. Valpy, in whose school Marten had
+for a time been educated.
+
+During this visit Dr. Valpy took him to see "a sort of exhibition" got
+up by the "young ladies" of M. and Mme. de St. Quentin's school. This
+famous school, which was afterwards removed to London, was held then in
+the old Abbey at Reading. "This," thought Mr. Butt, "is the very place
+for Mary"; and to the Abbey School it was decided that she should go.
+
+Marten was now at Westminster School. When the time came for him to
+return after the holidays, Mary had a seat in the chaise, and drove
+with him and her father as far as Reading. You will be amused by her
+description of her school and schoolmistresses, and of her first
+introduction to them.
+
+"The house--or, rather, the Abbey itself--was exceedingly interesting;
+and though I know not its exact history, yet I knew every hole and
+corner of what remained of the ancient building, which consisted of a
+gateway with rooms above, and on each side of it a vast staircase, of
+which the balustrades had originally been gilt. Then, too, there were
+many little nooks and round closets, and many larger and smaller rooms
+and passages, which appeared to be rather more modern; whilst the
+gateway itself stood without the garden walls upon the Forbury or open
+green, which belonged to the town, and where Dr. Valpy's boys played
+after school hours. The best part of the house was encompassed by a
+beautiful old-fashioned garden, where the young ladies were allowed to
+wander under tall trees in hot summer evenings."
+
+When Mary arrived at the Abbey the holidays were not quite over, and
+she was the first of the sixty pupils to present herself. The school
+was kept by Mme. de St. Quentin and a Mrs. Latournelle, who were
+partners. "Madame," as the girls always called her, was an Englishwoman
+by birth, but had married a French refugee whom circumstances had
+obliged to become French teacher in the school. Madame was a handsome
+woman, with bright eyes and a very dignified presence. Mary tells us
+that she danced remarkably well, played and sang and did fine
+needlework, and "spoke well and agreeably in English and in French
+without fear." Mrs. Latournelle was a funny, old-fashioned body, whose
+chief concern was with the housekeeping, tea-making, and other domestic
+duties. She had a cork leg, and her dress had never been known to
+change its fashion. "Her white muslin handkerchief was always pinned
+with the same number of pins; her muslin apron always hung in the same
+form; she always wore the same short sleeves, cuffs, and ruffles, with
+a breast-bow to answer the bow on her cap, both being flat with two
+notched ends."
+
+Mrs. Latournelle received Mary in a wainscotted parlour, hung round
+with miniatures and pieces of framed needlework done in chenille,
+representing tombs and weeping willows. Mary was to be what in those
+days was known as a "parlour-boarder," which meant that she was treated
+in part as a grown-up young lady, had more liberty and privileges than
+the other girls, and, in fact, was allowed to do very much as she
+liked. She thought herself gloriously happy, on coming down to
+breakfast next day in the twilight of a winter's morning, to be allowed
+to eat hot buttered toast and to draw as near as she liked to the fire;
+neither of which things was it lawful to do at home.
+
+Mary was "vastly amused," during the first few days, at seeing her
+future school-fellows arrive one after another. The two first to come
+were a pair of twin sisters named Martha and Mary Lee, so exactly alike
+that they could only be distinguished by a mark which one had on her
+forehead under the hair. There were many other big girls, but none
+besides herself who were parlour-boarders during that quarter. Mary
+soon chose out three to be her special friends; a Miss Poultenham,
+Amelia Reinagle (daughter of an artist who in that day was rather
+celebrated), and Mary Brown--niece of Mrs. Latournelle.
+
+M. and Mme. de St. Quentin presently returned, and Mary tells us how
+shy she felt when "Monsieur" summoned her to undergo a sort of
+examination. "Full well I remember the morning when he called me into
+his study to feel the pulse of my intellect, as he said, in order that
+he might know in what class to place me. All the girls whom he
+particularly instructed were standing by, all of them being superior to
+me in the knowledge of those things usually taught in schools. Behold
+me, then, in imagination, tall as I am now, standing before my master,
+and blushing till my blushes made me ashamed to look up. '_Eh bien_,
+mademoiselle,' he said, 'have you much knowledge of French?' 'No, sir,'
+I answered. 'Are you much acquainted with history?' And he went on from
+one thing to another, asking me questions, and always receiving a
+negative. At length, smiling, he said: 'Tell me, mademoiselle, then,
+what you do know.' I stammered 'Latin--Virgil,' and finished off with a
+regular flood of tears. At this he laughed outright, and immediately
+set me down in his class and gave me lessons for every day."
+
+The discipline of the Abbey seems to have been very slack, especially
+for the big girls. This is how Mary describes it: "The liberty which
+the first class had was so great that, if we attended our tutor in his
+study for an hour or two every morning, no human being ever took the
+trouble to enquire where we spent the rest of the day between our
+meals. Thus, whether we gossiped in one turret or another, whether we
+lounged about the garden or out of the window above the gateway, no one
+so much as said, 'Where have you been, mademoiselle?'"
+
+Mary Butt spent a year at Reading, where she learnt a good deal of
+French, and not, it would seem, much of anything else. She left it the
+following Christmas with many tears, thinking that her school-days were
+over; but a few months later her parents decided to send her back to
+the Abbey for another year, and that her sister Lucy should go too.
+That was in the autumn of 1792, when the French Revolution was just
+beginning. On January 21, 1793, the terrible news came of the murder of
+the unhappy King, Louis XVI. All Europe, and England especially, were
+horrified at the cruel deed; and at the Abbey, where there was a strong
+French Royalist element, feeling ran particularly high. "Monsieur and
+Madame went into deep mourning, as did also many of the elder girls.
+Multitudes of the French nobility came thronging into Reading,
+gathering about the Abbey, and some of them half living within its
+walls." Our friend Mary, as a half-fledged young lady, saw a great deal
+of these poor refugees, who had lost everything but their lives. They
+seem, however, to have shown the true French courage and gaiety under
+evil circumstances. There was much singing and playing under the trees;
+and they helped the school-girls to get up some little French plays to
+act at their breaking-up party. Mary took a part in the character of a
+French abbess, but she tells us that "assuredly" her talents never lay
+in the acting line, and very honestly adds: "I could never sufficiently
+have forgotten myself as to have acted well."
+
+Soon after Mary's finally leaving school her parents decided to put a
+curate in charge of the Kidderminster living, and to return to "lovely
+Stanford." This was a great relief to poor, shy Mrs. Butt, who had been
+like a caged bird in Kidderminster; but the young people were not quite
+sure if they liked the change. They had made many friends in the town
+and its neighbourhood; and now that Mary was, as we say nowadays, "come
+out," she had been taken to various balls and other diversions. They
+soon, however, settled down again in the old home; and as there was a
+large, delightful, and very friendly family at Stanford Court hard by,
+they found plenty of variety and amusement even in the depths of the
+country.
+
+The young Butts went across very often to dine at the Court; and on
+these occasions their hostess, Lady Winnington, got up little impromptu
+dances, which they greatly enjoyed. "Often," Mary writes, "when we
+dined at the Court she would send for the miller, who played the
+violin, and set us all to dance. My brother was always the partner of
+the eldest Miss Winnington, and as neither of them could tell one tune
+from another or dance a single step, we generally marvelled how they
+got on at all. The steward also, a great, big, and in our opinion most
+supremely ugly man, generally fell to my sister's lot. Thus, we did
+very well, and enjoyed ourselves in our own way. Sometimes the old
+Welsh harper came, and then we had a more set dance, and some of the
+ladies'-maids, and one or two of the upper men-servants, and the miller
+himself, and Mr. Taylor of the Fall, and the miller's brother Tommy,
+were asked, and then things were carried on in a superior style. We
+went into a larger room, and there was more change of partners; but as
+nothing could have induced the son and heir to ask a stranger, I always
+had him, whilst Miss Winnington and my sister sometimes fell to the
+share of the miller and his brother, the miller being himself musical
+and footing it to the tune better than his partners. The miller's
+brother seemed to wheel along rather than dance, throwing himself back
+and looking, in his white waistcoat which was kept for these grand
+occasions, not unlike a sack of meal set upright on trucks and so
+pushed about the room. I am ready to laugh to this hour when I think of
+these balls, and I certainly obtained very high celebrity then and
+there for being something very superior in the dancing line."
+
+The happy life at Stanford was not destined to last long, for Mr.
+Butt's health began to fail, and in the autumn of 1795 he died. Mrs.
+Butt took a house at Bridgnorth, and settled there with her two
+daughters. Mary had now begun to write in good earnest; and while
+living at Bridgnorth two of her tales were published, one called
+_Margarita_ and the other _Susan Grey_. Probably very few people now
+living have ever seen or read these stories; and if we did come across
+them it is to be feared we should think them very dull and long-winded.
+But when new they were much admired, particularly _Susan Grey_, which
+was one of the earliest tales written to interest rich and educated
+people in the poor and ignorant. It was widely read and reprinted many
+and many times.
+
+In spite of the pleasure and excitement of authorship, life in the
+little house in the sleepy town of Bridgnorth was very dull and cramped
+to the two young girls; and they were made much happier, because they
+were much busier, when the clergyman of one of the town churches asked
+them to undertake the management of his Sunday school. This is what
+Sunday school teaching meant at the end of the eighteenth century: "We
+attended the school so diligently on the Sunday that the parents
+brought the children in crowds, and we were obliged to stop short when
+each of us had about thirty-five girls and the old schoolmaster as many
+boys. We made bonnets and tippets for our girls; we walked with them to
+church; we looked them up in the week days; we were vastly busy; we
+were first amused, and next deeply interested."--"Sunday schools," she
+goes on to say, "then were comparatively new things, so that our
+attentions were more valued then than they would be nowadays."
+
+The next important event in Mary's life was her marriage with her
+cousin Henry, by which she became the "Mrs. Sherwood" whose name has
+been a household word to generations of children. Henry Sherwood had
+had a curious history, and had endured many hardships and adventures in
+his youthful days. As a boy of about thirteen he had made a voyage on
+a rotten old French coasting-vessel, which was very nearly wrecked; was
+run into in the night by an unknown ship; and all but foundered in the
+Bay of Biscay. The French Revolution had just begun; and when the brig
+touched at Marseilles this young lad saw terrible sights of men hung
+from lamp-posts; heard the grisly cry, "A la lanterne! a la lanterne!"
+and was even himself seized by some of the mob, though he happily
+contrived, in the confusion, to slip away. In Marseilles, too, he first
+saw the guillotine; it was carried about the streets in procession
+whilst the populace yelled out the "Marseillaise Hymn." Later on in the
+Revolution he was seized, as an Englishman, and imprisoned with a
+number of others at Abbeville; but, escaping from there, he made a
+wonderful journey through France, Switzerland, and Germany with his
+father, step-mother, and their five young children; being driven by the
+state of affairs from town to town, and wandering further and further
+afield in the effort to reach England. At length, after difficulties
+and hardships innumerable, they landed at Hull; and Henry made his way
+to some of his relations, who took care of him and set him on his legs
+again.
+
+Henry Sherwood soon afterwards entered the army, joining the regiment
+then known as the 53rd Foot; and about the same time he began to come
+to Bridgnorth, where his pretty young cousin, Mary Butt, was growing
+more and more attractive. After a while he wrote her a letter, asking
+if she would be his wife; and on June 30, 1803, they were married at
+Bridgnorth.
+
+Mary's marriage made a great change in her life. She had married into
+what used to be called a "marching regiment," which was constantly on
+the move from one station to another. After being transferred from
+place to place several times within a year, with long, wearisome
+journeys both by sea and land, following the regiment as it marched,
+the news came that the 53rd was ordered on foreign service, which meant
+a longer journey still. It was presently known that the regiment's
+destination was the East Indies, or, as we should now call it, India.
+This was a great blow to poor Mrs. Sherwood, for by this time she was
+the mother of a baby girl, whom she must leave behind in England.
+
+The regiment embarked at Portsmouth. Captain and Mrs. Sherwood had a
+miserable little cabin rigged up on deck, made only of canvas, and with
+a huge gun filling more than half the space. The vessel in which they
+sailed was called the _Devonshire_. It was quite a fleet that set sail,
+for besides the vessels needed to convey the troops, there had to be
+several armed cruisers in attendance. The war with France was going on,
+and there was continual danger of an attack by the enemy. When they had
+been more than three months at sea, three strange vessels were sighted,
+two of which soon ran up the French colours and began to fire, without
+the slightest warning, upon the English vessels. In a moment all was
+bustle on board the _Devonshire_, clearing the decks for action. The
+women and children were sent down into the hold, where they had to sit
+for hours in the dark, some way below watermark, while the shots
+whistled through the rigging overhead, the guns roared, the ladders had
+been taken away, and none of them could learn a word of what was going
+forward on deck, where their husbands and fathers were helping to man
+the guns. The fighting continued till late at night, but no serious
+damage befell the _Devonshire_. At length the women and children were
+hoisted up out of the hold, and "enjoyed some negus and biscuits."
+
+From that time they saw no more of the French. At last the voyage, with
+its anxieties and discomforts, was over; the _Devonshire_ sailed into
+the Hoogli and anchored in Diamond Harbour, expecting boats to come
+down from Calcutta to carry the regiment up there.
+
+It would take too long to tell the story of the Sherwoods' life in
+India, though Mrs. Sherwood's account of it is very good reading. Two
+or three scenes will give you some notion of how she spent her time.
+
+A certain number of the soldiers of the regiment were allowed to bring
+their wives and children out with them. There were no Government
+schools then for the regimental children, so that these little people
+idled away their time round the barracks, and were as ignorant as the
+day they were born. It came into Mrs. Sherwood's head to start a school
+for them, and this school she herself taught for four hours every
+morning, except in the very hottest weather; and the only help she had
+was from a sergeant of the regiment, a kind, good man. Some of the
+officers also were very thankful to send their children to school, so
+that Mrs. Sherwood soon had as many as fifty boys and girls coming
+daily to her bungalow. Very hard work it was teaching them to read and
+write and to be gentle, truthful, and obedient. She found the officers'
+children generally more troublesome than the soldiers', because they
+were more spoilt, or, as she puts it, pampered and indulged. For these
+children she wrote many of her books, especially her _Stories on the
+Church Catechism_, which can still be bought, and which give a very
+interesting picture of the life of a soldier's child in India some
+eighty years ago.
+
+Besides her day-school, Mrs. Sherwood collected in her house several
+little orphans, the children of poor soldiers' wives who quickly died
+in the trying climate of India. She found some of these children being
+dreadfully neglected and half starved, so took them home to her and
+brought them up with her own children. She gives an amusing description
+of her home life in India during the hot season, so terribly trying to
+Europeans: "The mode of existence of an English family during the hot
+winds in India is so very unlike anything in Europe that I must not
+omit to describe it. Every outer door of the house and every window is
+closed; all the interior doors and venetians are, however, open, whilst
+most of the private apartments are shut in by drop-curtains or screens
+of grass, looking like fine wire-work, partially covered with green
+silk. The hall, which never has any other than borrowed lights in any
+bungalow, is always in the centre of the house, and ours at Cawnpore
+had a large room on each side of it, with baths and sleeping-rooms. In
+the hot winds I always sat in the hall at Cawnpore. Though I was that
+year without a baby of my own, I had my orphan, my little Annie, always
+by me, quietly occupying herself when not actually receiving
+instruction from me. I had given her a good-sized box, painted green,
+with a lock and key; she had a little chair and table.
+
+"She was the neatest of all neat little people, somewhat faddy and
+particular, perchance. She was the child, of all others, to live with
+an ancient grandmother. Annie's treasures were few, but they were all
+contained in her green box. She never wanted occupation; she was either
+dressing her doll or finding pretty verses in her Bible, marking the
+places with an infinitude of minute pieces of paper. It was a great
+delight to me to have this little quiet one by my side.
+
+"In another part of this hall sat Mr. Sherwood during most part of the
+morning, either engaged with his accounts, his journal, or his books.
+He, of course, did not like the confinement so well as I did, and often
+contrived to get out to a neighbour's bungalow in his palanquin during
+some part of the long morning. In one of the side-rooms sat Sergeant
+Clarke, with his books and accounts. This worthy and most methodical
+personage used to fill up his time in copying my manuscripts in a very
+neat hand, and in giving lessons in reading and spelling, etc., to
+Annie. In the other room was the orphan Sally, with her toys. Beside
+her sat her attendant, chewing her paun[A] and enjoying a state of
+perfect apathy. Thus did our mornings pass, whilst we sat in what the
+lovers of broad daylight would call almost darkness. During these
+mornings we heard no sounds but the monotonous click, click of the
+punkah,[B] or the melancholy moaning of the burning blast without, with
+the splash and dripping of the water thrown over the tatties.[C] At one
+o'clock, or perhaps somewhat later, the tiffin [answering to our
+luncheon] was always served, a hot dinner, in fact, consisting always
+of curry and a variety of vegetables. We often dined at this hour, the
+children at a little table in the room, after which we all lay down,
+the adults on sofas and the children on the floor, under the punkah in
+the hall. At four, or later perhaps, we had coffee brought. We then
+bathed and dressed, and at six or thereabouts, the wind generally
+falling, the tatties were removed, the doors and windows of the house
+were opened, and we either took an airing in carriages or sat in the
+veranda; but the evenings and nights of the hot winds brought no
+refreshment."
+
+The days spent in that strange hot twilight must have seemed very long
+to children, even to those who had forgotten or never known the freedom
+of life in England; but Mrs. Sherwood had plenty of ways of filling her
+long quiet hours. She wrote a number of little stories about life in
+India, which were very much liked in their day and went through many
+editions. One of these was called _The Ayah and Lady_, and told about a
+native servant, her ignorant notions and strange ways, and how her
+mistress tried to do her good. Another was _Lucy and her Dhaye_, the
+history of a little English girl and her dark-skinned nurse, who was so
+devoted to her that she nearly broke her heart when Lucy went home to
+England and she was left behind. But the best of them all was _Little
+Henry and his Bearer_, which is one of the most famous stories ever
+written for children. The history of little Henry, the neglected orphan
+child whom nobody loved save his poor faithful heathen "bearer," or
+native servant, is exceedingly pretty and touching.
+
+Mrs. Sherwood was always thinking about children and trying to find out
+ways of helping them to be happy and good. A page from her diary will
+show how often she must have been grieved and distressed at the spoilt
+boys and girls she saw in the houses of the English merchants and Civil
+servants at Calcutta and elsewhere.
+
+"I must now proceed," she writes, "to some description of Miss Louisa,
+the eldest daughter then in India of our friends, who at that time
+might have been about six or seven. She was tall of her age, very
+brown, and very pale. She had been entirely reared in India, and was
+accustomed from her earliest infancy to be attended by a multitude of
+servants, whom she despised thoroughly as being black, although, no
+doubt, she preferred their society to her own country-people, as they
+ministered with much flattery and servility to her wants. Wherever she
+had moved during these first years of her life she had been followed by
+her ayah, and probably by one or two bearers, and she was perfectly
+aware that if she got into any mischief they would be blamed and not
+herself. In the meantime, except in the article of food, every desire
+and every caprice and every want had been indulged to satiety. No one
+who has not seen it could imagine the profusion of toys which are
+scattered about an Indian house wherever the 'babalogue' (children
+people) are permitted to range. There may be seen fine polished and
+painted toys from Benares, in which all the household utensils of the
+country, the fruits, and even the animals, are represented, the last
+most ludicrously incorrect. Toys in painted clay from Morshedabad and
+Calcutta, representing figures of gods and goddesses, with horses,
+camels, elephants, peacocks, and parrots, and now and then a 'tope
+walla,' or hat wearer, as they call the English, in full regimentals
+and cocked hat, seated on a clumsy, ill-formed thing meant for a horse.
+Then add to these English, French, and Dutch toys, which generally lie
+pell-mell in every corner where the listless, toy-satiated child may
+have thrown or kicked them.
+
+"The quantity of inner and outer garments worn by a little girl in
+England would render it extremely fatiguing to change the dress so
+often as our little ladies are required to do in India. Miss Louisa's
+attire consisted of a single garment, a frock body without sleeves,
+attached to a pair of trousers, with rather a short, full skirt
+gathered into the body with the trousers, so as to form one whole, the
+whole being ruffled with the finest jindelly, a cloth which is not
+unlike cambric, every ruffle being plaited in the most delicate manner.
+These ruffles are doubled and trebled on the top of the arm, forming
+there a substitute for a sleeve; and the same is done around the ankle,
+answering the purpose almost of a stocking, or at least concealing its
+absence. Fine coloured kid shoes ought to have completed this attire,
+but it most often happened that these were kicked away among the
+rejected toys.
+
+"How many times in a day the dress of Miss Louisa was renewed, who
+shall say? It, however, depended much upon the accidents which might
+happen to it; but four times was the usual arrangement, which was once
+before breakfast, once after, once again before tiffin, and once again
+for the evening airing. The child, being now nearly seven years old,
+was permitted to move about the house independently of her ayah; thus,
+she was sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the veranda, sometimes in
+one room, sometimes in another. In an Indian house in the hot season no
+inner door is ever shut, and curtains only are hung in the doorways, so
+that this little wild one was in and out and everywhere just as it hit
+her fancy. She had never been taught even to know her letters; she had
+never been kept to any task; she was a complete slave of idleness,
+restlessness, and ennui. 'It is time for Louisa to go to England,' was
+quietly remarked by the parents; and no one present controverted the
+point."
+
+Children like this must have made the good Mrs. Sherwood very unhappy;
+her own little ones--of whom she had three who lived to come home to
+England--were very differently brought up. She had also a lovely little
+boy named Henry, and a little fair-haired Lucy, who both died in India
+before they were two years old.
+
+It would be impossible to end even this short sketch of Mrs. Sherwood's
+Indian life without mentioning her friendship with Henry Martyn, that
+saintly soul and famous missionary in India and Persia. When the
+Sherwoods knew him he was Government chaplain at Dinapore, a great
+military station, at which the 53rd Foot then was. Mrs. Sherwood nursed
+him through a bad illness, and she and her husband afterwards paid him
+a visit in his quarters at Cawnpore, to which place he had been
+transferred. He had a school at Cawnpore for little native children;
+and worked hard at preaching to the heathen; while all the time doing
+his utmost for the soldiers of the various regiments stationed in the
+barracks. The Sherwoods heard his wonderful farewell sermon before
+starting for Persia; and the news of his death in that far land reached
+them not long before they quitted India for England.
+
+After being about twelve years in the East, the 53rd Regiment was
+ordered home, and very thankful Captain and Mrs. Sherwood were to bring
+the children they still had living safely back to a more healthy
+climate. Two of the orphans came with them, so there was quite a party
+of little people on board the ship; and when they landed at Liverpool
+they must have been a very quaint-looking group, for "we had not a
+bonnet in the party; we all wore caps trimmed with lace, white dresses,
+and Indian shawls." Can we wonder if, as Mrs. Sherwood goes on to say,
+"we were followed wherever we went by hundreds of the residents of
+Liverpool"?
+
+The rest of Mrs. Sherwood's long life was spent in England, save for an
+occasional visit to France and Switzerland. She and her husband settled
+in the west, where she had been born and bred, and of which she was so
+fond. She had more children, most of whom died young; and she lived a
+very busy, active, useful life, working hard at writing stories and
+tracts, visiting the prison at Worcester, and doing whatever good and
+useful work lay within her power.
+
+The first part of the _Fairchild Family_ was published in 1818. It was
+so popular that, more than twenty years afterwards, she wrote a second
+part, which, as you will see, begins at p. 150. As we read we shall
+notice little points of difference between it and the first part; but
+our friends, Lucy, Emily, and Henry are just as nice and as naughty, as
+good and as silly, as they were in the opening chapters of the book.
+
+A few years later, when a very old woman, Mrs. Sherwood wrote a third
+part of the _Fairchild Family_, in which she was helped by her
+daughter, Mrs. Kelly. But this third part is less entertaining and
+interesting than the two which went before it, and is also not entirely
+Mrs. Sherwood's own work; so you will not find it printed here.
+
+In 1851 Mrs. Sherwood died at Twickenham, where she had gone to live a
+few years previously. In the course of her long life she had seen many
+trials and sorrows, but she had had a great deal of happiness. She had
+made the very most of all the gifts given her by God. Countless
+children have been the happier and the better for what she wrote for
+them. And by means of this new edition of a dear old book, with its
+pleasant type and charming illustrations, I hope a new generation will
+spring up of lovers and admirers of Mrs. Sherwood.
+
+MARY E. PALGRAVE.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] Described in _Little Henry and his Bearer_ as "an intoxicating
+mixture of opium and sugar."
+
+[B] The huge fan, hanging from the ceiling, by which the air of houses
+in India is kept moving.
+
+[C] The "tatta" is a blind, or screen, woven of sweet-smelling grass,
+which is kept constantly wet by the water-carriers.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Contents
+
+
+                                                                PAGE
+
+  INTRODUCTION                                                    ix
+
+
+  PART I
+
+  THE BIRTHDAY WALK                                                3
+
+  MRS. FAIRCHILD'S STORY                                           9
+
+  ON ENVY                                                         19
+
+  STORY OF THE APPLES                                             25
+
+  STORY OF AN UNHAPPY DAY                                         34
+
+  STORY OF AMBITION; OR, THE WISH TO BE GREAT                     45
+
+  THE ALL-SEEING GOD                                              59
+
+  EMILY'S RECOVERY, AND THE OLD STORY OF MRS. HOWARD              67
+
+  SAD STORY OF A DISOBEDIENT CHILD                                84
+
+  THE TWO BOOKS                                                   87
+
+  THE HISTORY OF THE ORPHAN BOY                                   92
+
+  THE HISTORY OF LITTLE HENRI                                    107
+
+  A STORY OF BESETTING SINS                                      131
+
+  A VISIT TO MARY BUSH                                           143
+
+
+  PART II
+
+  STORY OF MISS CROSBIE'S PRESENTS                               150
+
+  A VISIT TO MRS. GOODRICHE                                      159
+
+  STORY OF THE LAST DAYS OF MRS. HOWARD                          162
+
+  THE FAIR LITTLE LADY                                           181
+
+  STORY OF A HOLIDAY                                             184
+
+  LITTLE EDWY AND THE ECHO                                       189
+
+  FURTHER STORY OF A HOLIDAY                                     203
+
+  THE HAPPY EVENING                                              216
+
+  BREAKFAST AT MR. BURKE'S                                       222
+
+  THE UNRULY FAMILY                                              228
+
+  STORY OF HENRY'S ADVENTURE                                     238
+
+  THE STORY IN EMILY'S BOOK. (PART I.)                           245
+
+  THE STORY IN EMILY'S BOOK. (PART II.)                          258
+
+  GUESTS AT MR. FAIRCHILD'S                                      286
+
+  MORE ABOUT BESSY                                               300
+
+  BESSY'S MISFORTUNES                                            313
+
+  HISTORY OF LITTLE BERNARD LOW. (PART I.)                       326
+
+  HISTORY OF LITTLE BERNARD LOW. (PART II.)                      341
+
+  HISTORY OF LITTLE BERNARD LOW. (PART III.)                     354
+
+  THE BIRTHDAY FEAST                                             382
+
+  GRANDMAMMA FAIRCHILD                                           400
+
+  GREAT CHANGES                                                  408
+
+  GRANDMAMMA AND THE CHILDREN                                    416
+
+  HISTORY OF EVELYN VAUGHAN. (PART I.)                           421
+
+  HISTORY OF EVELYN VAUGHAN. (PART II.)                          446
+
+  FAREWELL TO THE OLD HOME                                       464
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+List of illustrations
+
+
+                                                                PAGE
+
+  FRONTISPIECE--Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children,
+      Lucy, Emily and Henry.
+
+  Good children                                                    3
+
+  They ran on before                                               5
+
+  Here were abundance of flowers                                   8
+
+  "I sat down on one of the branches to eat cherries"              9
+
+  Mrs. Grace taught me to sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught me to
+      read                                                        11
+
+  "How lovely! How beautiful!"                                    19
+
+  She saw that it was a ring                                      24
+
+  Henry stood under the apple-tree                                25
+
+  There was one he could just reach                               27
+
+  Behind the stable                                               33
+
+  Lucy and Emily                                                  34
+
+  Away he ran into the garden, followed by Lucy and Emily         37
+
+  They went along the great gallery                               45
+
+  Emily and Lucy had never seen such fine clothes before          53
+
+  Dressed                                                         58
+
+  At last she fell asleep                                         59
+
+  She took two or three damsons, which she ate in great haste     61
+
+  "What sound is that I hear?" said Emily                         67
+
+  Emily and her brother and sister went to play in the garden     69
+
+  "I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk slip"    75
+
+  Looking in the glass, with a candle in her hand                 84
+
+  "Please choose a book for me"                                   87
+
+  Henry reads the story                                           91
+
+  Marten behaved well at breakfast                                92
+
+  A little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown, came into the
+      kitchen                                                     99
+
+  Marten goes to school                                          106
+
+  Henri stood at the window                                      107
+
+  "Do you remember anything of the sermon?"                      131
+
+  Miss Betsy                                                     142
+
+  The children looked at the kittens                             143
+
+  Drinking tea at the door of the cottage, round the little
+      table                                                      147
+
+  Miss Crosbie spoke kindly to her                               150
+
+  In the summer parlour                                          159
+
+  When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied            162
+
+  The happy little girls went with the dolls into the
+      bow-window                                                 175
+
+  The coach came in sight                                        181
+
+  Henry looked along the road                                    184
+
+  He turned away from the terrible bird                          189
+
+  Could it be her own--her Edwy? She could hardly be sure of
+      her happiness                                              199
+
+  "Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"                                202
+
+  "She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily                  203
+
+  Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little children       213
+
+  The magpie on the stile                                        215
+
+  Preparing the peas for supper                                  216
+
+  A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering                   222
+
+  They had a game at marbles                                     228
+
+  The noise continued till the two brothers were fairly out of
+      the house                                                  231
+
+  Kind Mrs. Burke gave him a piece of bread and honey            238
+
+  Lucy and Emily had now each a doll                             245
+
+  Going gaily down the hill                                      258
+
+  Margot rose and made a curtsey                                 263
+
+  Meeta offered to carry the honey                               285
+
+  "She does not know that I made a slit in my frock"             286
+
+  Cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead leaves      297
+
+  Off she ran after him                                          299
+
+  She saw Bessy amongst some gooseberry bushes                   300
+
+  "What! what!" cried Mrs. Goodriche                             303
+
+  Bessy was crying most piteously                                313
+
+  "At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and Miss
+      Lucy"                                                      319
+
+  Bessy was very sorry to leave her young friends                326
+
+  But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a to-do     333
+
+  "Let us sit here under the shade of a tree"                    341
+
+  He took up a slip of wood                                      353
+
+  There was no end of the indulgences given in private to
+      the boy                                                    354
+
+  Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla                                 381
+
+  She only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+      well                                                       382
+
+  For a long time they were all very still with their toys       387
+
+  In their neatest morning dress                                 399
+
+  "Will Lucy love me?" said the old lady                         400
+
+  "Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like"                     408
+
+  It was Emily's step                                            415
+
+  Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories           416
+
+  A hundred years ago                                            420
+
+  To teach little Francis his letters                            421
+
+  "I cannot tell what the child's head is running on"            431
+
+  To hang flowers round its neck                                 445
+
+  Miss Anne Vaughan led her niece by the hand                    446
+
+  "What a bustle there is to get ready on a dancing day"         451
+
+  Henry reminded her of the robin                                464
+
+  Someone was waving something white                             470
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Fairchild Family]
+
+
+
+
+  The
+  History of the Fairchild Family
+
+
+
+
+Part I
+
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild lived very far from any town; their house stood
+in the midst of a garden, which in the summer-time was full of fruit
+and sweet flowers. Mr. Fairchild kept only two servants, Betty and
+John: Betty's business was to clean the house, cook the dinner, and
+milk the cow; and John waited at table, worked in the garden, fed the
+pig, and took care of the meadow in which the cow grazed.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had three children: Lucy, who was about nine
+years old when these stories began; Emily, who was next in age; and
+Henry, who was between six and seven. These little children did not go
+to school: Mrs. Fairchild taught Lucy and Emily, and Mr. Fairchild
+taught little Henry. Lucy and Emily learned to read, and to do various
+kinds of needlework. Lucy had begun to write, and took great pains with
+her writing; their mother also taught them to sing psalms and hymns,
+and they could sing several very sweetly. Little Henry, too, had a
+great notion of singing.
+
+Besides working and reading, the little girls could do many useful
+things; they made their beds, rubbed the chairs and tables in their
+rooms, fed the fowls; and when John was busy, they laid the cloth for
+dinner, and were ready to fetch anything which their parents might
+want.
+
+Mr. Fairchild taught Henry everything that was proper for little boys
+in his station to learn; and when he had finished his lessons in a
+morning, his papa used to take him very often to work in the garden;
+for Mr. Fairchild had great pleasure in helping John to keep the garden
+clean. Henry had a little basket, and he used to carry the weeds and
+rubbish in his basket out of the garden, and do many such other little
+things as he was set to do.
+
+I must not forget to say that Mr. Fairchild had a school for poor boys
+in the next village, and Mrs. Fairchild one for girls. I do not mean
+that they taught the children entirely themselves, but they paid a
+master and mistress to teach them; and they used to take a walk two or
+three times a week to see the children, and to give rewards to those
+who had behaved well. When Lucy and Emily and Henry were obedient,
+their parents were so kind as to let them go with them to see the
+schools; and then they always contrived to have some little thing ready
+to carry with them as presents to the good children.
+
+
+
+
+The Birthday Walk
+
+[Illustration: Good children]
+
+
+"It is Lucy's birthday," said Mr. Fairchild, as he came into the
+parlour one fine morning in May; "we will go to see John Trueman, and
+take some cake to his little children, and afterwards we will go on to
+visit Nurse, and carry her some tea and sugar."
+
+Nurse was a pious old woman, who had taken care of Lucy when she was a
+baby, and now lived with her son and his wife Joan in a little cottage
+not far distant, called Brookside Cottage, because a clear stream of
+water ran just before the door.
+
+"And shall we stay at Nurse's all day, papa?" said the children.
+
+"Ask your mamma, my dears," said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"With all my heart," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we will take Betty with
+us to carry our dinner."
+
+So when the children had breakfasted, and Betty was ready, they all set
+out. And first they went down the lane towards John Trueman's cottage.
+There is not a pleasanter lane near any village in England; the hedge
+on each side is of hawthorn, which was then in blossom, and the grass
+was soft under the feet as a velvet cushion; on the bank, under the
+hedge, were all manner of sweet flowers, violets, and primroses, and
+the blue vervain.
+
+Lucy and Emily and Henry ran gaily along before Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild,
+and Betty came after with the basket. Before they came up to the gate
+of John Trueman's cottage, the children stopped to take the cake out of
+Betty's basket, and to cut shares of it for John's little ones. Whilst
+they were doing this, their father and mother had reached the cottage,
+and were sitting down at the door when they came up.
+
+John Trueman's cottage was a neat little place, standing in a garden,
+adorned with pinks and rosemary and southernwood. John himself was gone
+out to his daily work when Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild came to his house;
+but his wife Mary was at home, and was just giving a crust of bread and
+a bit of cheese to a very poor woman who had stopped at the gate with a
+baby in her arms.
+
+"Why, Mary," said Mr. Fairchild, "I hope it is a sign that you are
+getting rich, as you have bread and cheese to spare."
+
+"Sir," she answered, "this poor woman is in want, and my children will
+never miss what I have given her."
+
+"You are very right," answered Mrs. Fairchild; and at the same time she
+slipped a shilling into the poor woman's hand.
+
+John and Mary Trueman had six children: the eldest, Thomas, was working
+in the garden; and little Billy, his youngest brother, who was but
+three years old, was carrying out the weeds as his brother plucked them
+up; Mary, the eldest daughter, was taking care of the baby; and Kitty,
+the second, sat sewing: whilst her brother Charles, a little boy of
+seven years of age, read the Bible aloud to her. They were all neat and
+clean, though dressed in very coarse clothes.
+
+When Lucy and Emily and Henry divided the cake amongst the poor
+children, they looked very much pleased; but they said that they would
+not eat any of it till their father came in at night.
+
+"If that is the case," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you shall have a little
+tea and sugar to give your father with your cake;" so she gave them
+some out of the basket.
+
+As Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and their children passed through the village
+they stopped at the schools, and found everything as they could
+wish--the children all clean, neat, cheerful, and busy, and the master
+and mistress very attentive. They were much pleased to see everything
+in such good order in the schools, and having passed this part of the
+village, they turned aside into a large meadow, through which was the
+path to Nurse's cottage. Many sheep with their lambs were feeding in
+this meadow, and here also were abundance of primroses, cowslips,
+daisies, and buttercups, and the songs of the birds which were in the
+hedgerows were exceedingly delightful.
+
+[Illustration: "_They ran on before._"--Page 7.]
+
+As soon as the children came in sight of Nurse's little cottage they
+ran on before to kiss Nurse, and to tell her that they were come to
+spend the day with her. The poor woman was very glad, because she loved
+Mr. Fairchild's children very dearly; she therefore kissed them, and
+took them to see her little grandson Tommy, who was asleep in the
+cradle. By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and Betty were come up, and
+whilst Betty prepared the dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild sat talking
+with Nurse at the door of the cottage.
+
+Betty and Joan laid the cloth upon the fresh grass before the
+cottage-door, and when Joan had boiled some potatoes, Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild sat down to dinner with the children, after which the
+children went to play in the meadow by the brookside till it was time
+for them to be going home.
+
+"What a happy day we have had!" said Lucy as she walked home between
+her father and mother. "Everything has gone well with us since we set
+out, and everyone we have seen has been kind and good to us; and the
+weather has been so fine, and everything looks so pretty all around
+us!"
+
+[Illustration: "_Here were abundance of flowers._"--Page 7.]
+
+
+
+
+Mrs. Fairchild's Story
+
+[Illustration: "I sat down on one of the branches to eat cherries"]
+
+
+The next morning, when Lucy and Emily were sitting at work with Mrs.
+Fairchild, Henry came in from his father's study.
+
+"I have finished all my lessons, mamma," he said. "I have made all the
+haste I could because papa said that you would tell us a story to-day;
+and now I am come to hear it."
+
+So Henry placed himself before his mother, and Lucy and Emily
+hearkened, whilst Mrs. Fairchild told her story.
+
+"My mother died," said Mrs. Fairchild, "many years ago, when I was a
+very little child--so little that I remember nothing more of her than
+being taken to kiss her when she lay sick in bed. Soon afterwards I can
+recollect seeing her funeral procession go out of the garden-gate as I
+stood in the nursery window; and I also remember some days afterwards
+being taken to strew flowers upon her grave in the village churchyard.
+
+"After my mother's death my father sent me to live with my aunts, Mrs.
+Grace and Mrs. Penelope, two old ladies, who, having never been
+married, had no families to take up their attention, and were so kind
+as to undertake to bring me up. These old ladies lived near the
+pleasant town of Reading. I fancy I can see the house now, although it
+is many years since I left it. It was a handsome old mansion, for my
+aunts were people of good fortune. In the front of it was a shrubbery,
+neatly laid out with gravel walks, and behind it was a little rising
+ground, where was an arbour, in which my aunts used to drink tea on a
+fine afternoon, and where I often went to play with my doll. My aunts'
+house and garden were very neat; there was not a weed to be seen in the
+gravel walks or among the shrubs, nor anything out of its place in the
+house. My aunts themselves were nice and orderly, and went on from day
+to day in the same manner, and, as far as they knew, they were good
+women; but they knew very little about religion, and what people do not
+understand they cannot practise.
+
+[Illustration: "_Mrs. Grace taught me to sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught
+me to read._"--Page 10.]
+
+"I was but a very little girl when I came to live with my aunts, and
+they kept me under their care till I was married. As far as they knew
+what was right, they took great pains with me. Mrs. Grace taught me to
+sew, and Mrs. Penelope taught me to read. I had a writing-and
+music-master, who came from Reading to teach me twice a week; and I was
+taught all kinds of household work by my aunts' maid. We spent one day
+exactly like another. I was made to rise early, and to dress myself
+very neatly, to breakfast with my aunts. At breakfast I was not allowed
+to speak one word. After breakfast I worked two hours with my Aunt
+Grace, and read an hour with my Aunt Penelope; we then, if it was fine
+weather, took a walk, or, if not, an airing in the coach--I, and my
+aunts, and little Shock, the lap-dog, together. At dinner I was not
+allowed to speak, and after dinner I attended my masters, or learned my
+tasks. The only time I had to play was while my aunts were dressing to
+go out, for they went out every evening to play at cards. When they
+went out my supper was given to me, and I was put to bed in a closet in
+my aunts' room.
+
+"Now, although my aunts took so much pains with me in their way, I was
+a very naughty girl; I had no good principles."
+
+"What do you mean by good principles?" asked Lucy.
+
+"A person of good principles, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "is one
+who does not do well for fear of the people he lives with, but from the
+fear of God. A child who has good principles will behave just the same
+when his mamma is out of the room as when she is looking at him--at
+least he will wish to do so; and if he is by his own wicked heart at
+any time tempted to sin, he will be grieved, although no person knows
+his sin. But when I lived with my aunts, if I could escape punishment,
+I did not care what naughty things I did.
+
+"My Aunt Grace was very fond of Shock. She used to give me skim-milk at
+breakfast, but she gave Shock cream; and she often made me carry him
+when I went out a-walking. For this reason I hated him, and when we
+were out of my aunts' hearing I used to pull his tail and his ears and
+make the poor little thing howl sadly. My Aunt Penelope had a large
+tabby cat, which I also hated and used ill. I remember once being sent
+out of the dining-room to carry Shock his dinner, Shock being ill, and
+laid on a cushion in my aunts' bedroom. As I was going upstairs I was
+so unfortunate as to break the plate, which was fine blue china. I
+gathered up the pieces, and running up into the room, set them before
+Shock; after which I fetched the cat and shut her up in the room with
+Shock. When my aunts came up after dinner and found the broken plate,
+they were much surprised, and Mrs. Bridget, the favourite maid, was
+called to beat the cat for breaking the plate. I was in my closet and
+heard all that was said, and instead of being sorry, I was glad that
+puss was beaten instead of me.
+
+"Besides those things which I have told you, I did many other naughty
+things. Whenever I was sent into the store-room, where the sugar and
+sweetmeats were kept, I always stole some. I used very often at night,
+when my aunts were gone out, and Mrs. Bridget also (for Mrs. Bridget
+generally went out when her mistress did to see some of her
+acquaintances in the town), to get up and go down into the kitchen,
+where I used to sit upon the housemaid's knee and eat toasted cheese
+and bread sopped in beer. Whenever my aunts found out any of my naughty
+tricks, they used to talk to me of my wickedness, and to tell me that
+if I went on in this manner I certainly should make God very angry.
+When I heard them talk of God's anger I used to be frightened, and
+resolved to do better; but I seldom kept any of my good resolutions.
+From day to day I went on in the same way, getting worse, I think,
+instead of better, until I was twelve years of age.
+
+"One Saturday morning in the middle of summer my aunts called me to
+them and said, 'My dear, we are going from home, and shall not return
+till Monday morning. We cannot take you with us, as we could wish,
+because you have not been invited. Bridget will go with us, therefore
+there will be no person to keep you in order; but we hope, as you are
+not now a little child, that you may be trusted a few days by
+yourself.'
+
+"Then they talked to me of the Commandments of God, and explained them
+to me, and spoke of the very great sin and danger of breaking them; and
+they talked to me till I really felt frightened, and determined that I
+would be good all the while they were from home.
+
+"When the coach was ready my aunts set out, and I took my books and
+went to sit in the arbour with Shock, who was left under my care. I
+stayed in the arbour till evening, when one of the maid-servants
+brought me my supper. I gave part of it to Shock, and, when I had eaten
+the rest, went to bed. As I lay in my bed I felt very glad that I had
+gone through that evening without doing anything I thought naughty, and
+was sure I should do as well the next day.
+
+"The next morning I was awakened by the bells ringing for church. I got
+up, ate my breakfast, and when I was dressed went with the maid to
+church. When we came home my dinner was given me. All this while I had
+kept my aunts' words pretty well in my memory, but they now began to
+wear a little from my mind. When I had done my dinner I went to play in
+the garden.
+
+"Behind the garden, on the hill, was a little field full of
+cherry-trees. Cherries were now quite ripe. My aunts had given me leave
+every day to pick up a few cherries if there were any fallen from the
+trees, but I was not allowed to gather any. Accordingly I went to look
+if there were any cherries fallen. I found a few, and was eating them,
+when I heard somebody call me, 'Miss! Miss!' and, looking up, saw a
+little girl who was employed about the house, in weeding the garden,
+and running errands. My aunts had often forbid me to play or hold any
+discourse with this little girl, which was certainly very proper, as
+the education of the child was very different from that which had been
+given me. I was heedless of this command, and answered her by saying:
+'What are you doing here, Nanny?'
+
+"'There is a ladder, Miss,' she replied, 'against a tree at the upper
+end of the orchard. If you please, I will get up into it and throw you
+down some cherries.'
+
+"At first I said 'No,' and then I said 'Yes.' So Nanny and I repaired
+to the tree in question, and Nanny mounted into the tree.
+
+"'Oh, Miss! Miss!' said she as soon as she had reached the top of the
+ladder, 'I can see from where I am all the town, and both the churches;
+and here is such plenty of cherries! Do come up! Only just step on the
+ladder, and then you can sit on this bough and eat as many cherries as
+you please.'"
+
+"And did you get into the tree, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and sat down on one of the
+branches to eat cherries and look about me."
+
+"Oh, mamma!" said Emily, "suppose your aunts had come home then!"
+
+"You shall hear, my dear," continued Mrs. Fairchild. "My aunts, as I
+thought, and as they expected, were not to come home till the Monday
+morning; but something happened whilst they were out--I forget
+what--which obliged them to return sooner than they had expected, and
+they got home just at the time when I was in the cherry-orchard. They
+called for me, but not finding me immediately, they sent the servants
+different ways to look for me. The person who happened to come to look
+for me in the cherry-orchard was Mrs. Bridget, who was the only one of
+the servants who would have told of me. She soon spied me with Nanny in
+the cherry-tree. She made us both come down, and dragged us by the arms
+into the presence of my aunts, who were exceedingly angry; I think I
+never saw them so angry. Nanny was given up to her mother to be
+punished; and I was shut up in a dark room, where I was kept several
+days upon bread and water. At the end of three days my aunts sent for
+me, and talked to me for a long time.
+
+"'Is it not very strange at your age, niece,' said Mrs. Penelope, 'that
+you cannot be trusted for one day, after all the pains we have taken
+with you, after all we have taught you?'
+
+"'And,' said my Aunt Grace, 'think of the shame and disgrace of
+climbing trees in such low company, after all the care and pains we
+have taken with you, and the delicate manner in which we have reared
+you!'
+
+"In this way they talked to me, whilst I cried very much.
+
+"'Indeed, indeed, Aunt Grace and Aunt Penelope,' I said, 'I did mean to
+behave well when you went out; I made many resolutions, but I broke
+them all; I wished to be good, but I could not be good.'
+
+"When my aunts had talked to me a long time, they forgave me, and I was
+allowed to go about as usual, but I was not happy; I felt that I was
+naughty, and did not know how to make myself good. One afternoon, soon
+after all this had happened, while my aunts and I were drinking tea in
+the parlour, with the window open towards the garden, an old gentleman
+came in at the front gate, whom I had never seen before. He was dressed
+in plain black clothes, exceedingly clean; his gray hair curled about
+his neck, and in his hand he had a strong walking-stick. I was the
+first who saw him, as I was nearest the window, and I called to my
+aunts to look at him.
+
+"'Why, it is my Cousin Thomas!' cried my Aunt Penelope. 'Who would have
+expected to have seen him here?'
+
+"With that both my aunts ran out to meet him and bring him in. The old
+gentleman was a clergyman, and a near relation of our family, and had
+lived many years upon his living in the North, without seeing any of
+his relations.
+
+"'I have often promised to come and see you, cousins,' he said, as
+soon as he was seated, 'but never have been able to bring the matter
+about till now.'
+
+"My aunts told him how glad they were to see him, and presented me to
+him. He received me very kindly, and told me that he remembered my
+mother. The more I saw of this gentleman, the more pleased I was with
+him. He had many entertaining stories to tell; and he spoke of
+everybody in the kindest way possible. He often used to take me out
+with him a-walking, and show me the flowers, and teach me their names.
+One day he went out into the town, and bought a beautiful little Bible
+for me; and when he gave it to me he said: 'Read this, dear child, and
+pray to God to send His Holy Spirit to help you to understand it; and
+it shall be a lamp unto your feet, and a light unto your path.'"
+
+"I know that verse, mamma," said Lucy; "it is in the Psalms."
+
+"The old gentleman stayed with my aunts two months, and every day he
+used to take me with him to walk in the fields, the woods, and in the
+pleasant meadows on the banks of the Thames. His kind words to me at
+those times I shall never forget; he, with God's blessing, brought me
+to the knowledge of my dear Saviour, and showed me the wickedness of my
+own heart, and made me understand that I never could do any good but
+through the help of God."
+
+"When the good old gentleman was gone, did you behave better than you
+did before he came, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"After he left us, my dear, I was very different from what I was
+before," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I had learned to know the weakness of my
+heart, and to ask God to help me to be good; and when I had done wrong,
+I knew whose forgiveness to ask; and I do not think that I ever fell
+into those great sins which I had been guilty of before--such as lying,
+stealing, and deceiving my aunts."
+
+
+
+
+On Envy
+
+[Illustration: "How lovely! How beautiful!"]
+
+
+"Who can go with me to the village this morning," said Mr. Fairchild,
+one winter's day, "to carry this basket of little books to the school?"
+
+"Lucy cannot go," said Mrs. Fairchild, "because her feet are sore with
+chilblains, and Henry has a bad cold; but Emily can go."
+
+"Make haste, Emily," said Mr. Fairchild, "and put on your thick shoes
+and warm coat, for it is very cold."
+
+As soon as Emily was ready, she set off with her father. It was a very
+cold day, and the ground was quite hard with the frost. Mr. Fairchild
+walked first, and Emily came after him with the little basket. They
+gave the basket to the schoolmaster, and returned. As they were coming
+back, Emily saw something bright upon the ground; and when she stooped
+to pick it up, she saw that it was a ring set round with little white
+shining stones.
+
+"Oh, papa, papa!" she said, "see what I have found! What a beautiful
+ring!"
+
+When Mr. Fairchild looked at it, he was quite surprised.
+
+"Why, my dear," said he, "I think that this is Lady Noble's diamond
+ring; how came it to be lying in this place?"
+
+Whilst they were looking at the ring they heard the sound of a
+carriage; it was Sir Charles Noble's, and Lady Noble was in it.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Fairchild!" she called out of the window of the carriage, "I
+am in great trouble; I have lost my diamond ring, and it is of very
+great value. I went to the village this morning in the carriage, and as
+I came back, pulled off my glove to get sixpence out of my purse to
+give to a poor man somewhere in this lane, and I suppose that my ring
+dropped off at the time. I don't know what I shall do; Sir Charles will
+be sadly vexed."
+
+"Make yourself quite happy, madam," said Mr. Fairchild, "here is your
+ring; Emily just this moment picked it up."
+
+Lady Noble was exceedingly glad when she received back her ring. She
+thanked Emily twenty times, and said, "I think I have something in the
+carriage which you will like very much, Miss Emily; it is just come
+from London, and was intended for my daughter Augusta; but I will send
+for another for her."
+
+So saying, she presented Emily with a new doll packed up in paper, and
+with it a little trunk, with a lock and key, full of clothes for the
+doll. Emily was so delighted that she almost forgot to thank Lady
+Noble; but Mr. Fairchild, who was not quite so much overjoyed as his
+daughter, remembered to return thanks for this pretty present.
+
+So Lady Noble put the ring on her finger, and ordered the coachman to
+drive home.
+
+"Oh, papa, papa!" said Emily, "how beautiful this doll is! I have just
+torn the paper a bit, and I can see its face; it has blue eyes and red
+lips, and hair like Henry's. Oh, how beautiful! Please, papa, to carry
+the box for me; I cannot carry both the box and the doll. Oh, this
+beautiful doll! this lovely doll!" So she went on talking till they
+reached home; then she ran before her papa to her mamma and sister and
+brother, and, taking the paper off the doll, cried out: "How beautiful!
+Oh, what pretty hands! What nice feet! What blue eyes! How lovely! how
+beautiful!"
+
+Her mother asked her several times where she had got this pretty doll;
+but Emily was too busy to answer her. When Mr. Fairchild came in with
+the trunk of clothes, he told all the story; how that Lady Noble had
+given Emily the doll for finding her diamond ring.
+
+When Emily had unpacked the doll, she opened the box, which was full of
+as pretty doll's things as ever you saw.
+
+Whilst Emily was examining all these things, Henry stood by admiring
+them and turning them about; but Lucy, after having once looked at the
+doll without touching it, went to a corner of the room, and sat down in
+her little chair without speaking a word.
+
+"Come, Lucy," said Emily, "help me to dress my doll."
+
+"Can't you dress it yourself?" answered Lucy, taking up a little book,
+and pretending to read.
+
+"Come, Lucy," said Henry, "you never saw so beautiful a doll before."
+
+"Don't tease me, Henry," said Lucy; "don't you see I am reading?"
+
+"Put up your book now, Lucy," said Emily, "and come and help me to
+dress this sweet little doll. I will be its mamma, and you shall be its
+nurse, and it shall sleep between us in our bed."
+
+"I don't want dolls in my bed," said Lucy; "don't tease me, Emily."
+
+"Then Henry shall be its nurse," said Emily. "Come, Henry, we will go
+into our play-room, and put this pretty doll to sleep. Will not you
+come, Lucy? Pray do come; we want you very much."
+
+"Do let me alone," answered Lucy; "I want to read."
+
+So Henry and Emily went to play, and Lucy sat still in the corner of
+the parlour. After a few minutes her mamma, who was at work by the
+fire, looked at her, and saw that she was crying; the tears ran down
+her cheeks, and fell upon her book. Then Mrs. Fairchild called Lucy to
+her, and said:
+
+"My dear child, you are crying; can you tell me what makes you
+unhappy?"
+
+"Nothing, mamma," answered Lucy; "I am not unhappy."
+
+"People do not cry when they are pleased and happy, my dear," said Mrs.
+Fairchild.
+
+Lucy stood silent.
+
+"I am your mother, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "and I love you very
+much; if anything vexes you, whom should you tell it to but to your own
+mother?" Then Mrs. Fairchild kissed her, and put her arms round her.
+
+Lucy began to cry more.
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma! dear mamma!" she said, "I don't know what vexes me,
+or why I have been crying."
+
+"Are you speaking the truth?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "Do not hide
+anything from me. Is there anything in your heart, my dear child, do
+you think, which makes you unhappy?"
+
+"Indeed, mamma," said Lucy, "I think there is. I am sorry that Emily
+has got that pretty doll. Pray do not hate me for it, mamma; I know it
+is wicked in me to be sorry that Emily is happy, but I feel that I
+cannot help it."
+
+"My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, "I am glad you have confessed
+the truth to me. Now I will tell you why you feel so unhappy, and I
+will tell you where to seek a cure. The naughty passion you now feel,
+my dear, is what is called Envy. Envy makes persons unhappy when they
+see others happier or better than themselves. Envy is in every man's
+heart by nature. Some people can hide it more than others, and others
+have been enabled, by God's grace, to overcome it in a great degree;
+but, as I said before, it is in the natural heart of all mankind.
+Little children feel envious about dolls and playthings, and men and
+women feel envious about greater things."
+
+"Do you ever feel envious, mamma?" said Lucy. "I never saw you unhappy
+because other people had better things than you had."
+
+"My heart, my dear child," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "is no better than
+yours. There was a time when I was very envious. When I was first
+married I had no children for seven or eight years; I wished very much
+to have a baby, as you wished just now for Emily's doll; and whenever I
+saw a woman with a pretty baby in her arms, I was ready to cry for
+vexation."
+
+"Do you ever feel any envy now, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"I cannot say that I never feel it, my dear; but I bless God that this
+wicked passion has not the power over me which it used to have."
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma!" said Lucy, "how unhappy wickedness makes us! I have
+been very miserable this morning; and what for? only because of the
+naughtiness of my heart, for I have had nothing else to make me
+miserable."
+
+Then Mrs. Fairchild took Lucy by the hand, and went into her closet,
+where they prayed that the Holy Spirit would take the wicked passion of
+envy out of Lucy's heart. And as they prayed in the name of the Lord
+Jesus Christ, who died upon the cross to deliver us from the power of
+sin, they did not doubt but that God would hear their prayer; and
+indeed He did, for from that day Lucy never felt envious of Emily's
+doll, but helped Emily to take care of it and make its clothes, and was
+happy to have it laid on her bed betwixt herself and sister.
+
+[Illustration: "_She saw that it was a ring._"--Page 19.]
+
+
+
+
+Story of the Apples
+
+[Illustration: Henry stood under the apple-tree]
+
+
+Just opposite Mr. Fairchild's parlour window was a young apple-tree,
+which had never yet brought forth any fruit; at length it produced two
+blossoms, from which came two apples. As these apples grew they became
+very beautiful, and promised to be very fine fruit.
+
+"I desire," said Mr. Fairchild, one morning, to his children, "that
+none of you touch the apples on that young tree, for I wish to see what
+kind of fruit they will be when they are quite ripe."
+
+That same evening, as Henry and his sisters were playing in the parlour
+window, Henry said:
+
+"Those are beautiful apples indeed that are upon that tree."
+
+"Do not look upon them, Henry," said Lucy.
+
+"Why not, Lucy?" asked Henry.
+
+"Because papa has forbidden us to meddle with them."
+
+_Henry._ "Well, I am not going to meddle with them; I am only looking
+at them."
+
+_Lucy._ "Oh! but if you look much at them, you will begin to wish for
+them, and may be tempted to take them at last."
+
+_Henry._ "How can you think of any such thing, Lucy? Do you take me for
+a thief?"
+
+The next evening the children were playing again in the parlour window.
+Henry said to his sister, "I dare say that those beautiful apples will
+taste very good when papa gathers them."
+
+"There, now, Henry!" said Lucy; "I told you that the next thing would
+be wishing for those apples. Why do you look at them?"
+
+"Well, and if I do wish for them, is there any harm in that," answered
+Henry, "if I do not touch them?"
+
+_Lucy._ "Oh! but now you have set your heart upon them, the devil may
+tempt you to take one of them, as he tempted Eve to eat the forbidden
+fruit. You should not have looked at them, Henry."
+
+_Henry._ "Oh, I shan't touch the apples! Don't be afraid."
+
+[Illustration: "_There was one he could just reach._"--Page 26.]
+
+Now Henry did not mean to steal the apples, it is true; but when people
+give way to sinful desires, their passions get so much power over them
+that they cannot say, "I will sin so far, and no further." That night,
+whenever Henry awoke, he thought of the beautiful apples. He got up
+before his parents, or his sisters, and went down into the garden.
+There was nobody up but John, who was in the stable. Henry went and
+stood under the apple-tree. He looked at the apples; there was one
+which he could just reach as he stood on his tip-toe. He stretched out
+his hand and plucked it from the tree, and ran with it, as he thought,
+out of sight behind the stable. Having eaten it in haste, he returned
+to the house.
+
+When Mr. Fairchild got up, he went into the garden and looked at the
+apple-tree, and saw that one of the apples was missing; he looked round
+the tree to see if it had fallen down, and he perceived the mark of a
+child's foot under the tree. He came into the house in great haste,
+and looking angrily, "Which of you young ones," said he, "has gathered
+the apple from the young apple-tree? Last night there were two upon the
+tree, and now there is only one."
+
+The children made no answer.
+
+"If you have, any of you, taken the apple, and will tell me the truth,
+I will forgive you," said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"I did not take it, indeed, papa," said Lucy.
+
+"And I did not take it," said Emily.
+
+"I did not--indeed I did not," said Henry; but Henry looked very red
+when he spoke.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Fairchild, "I must call in John, and ask him if he can
+tell who took the apple. But before John is called in, I tell you once
+more, my dear children, that if any of you took the apple and will
+confess it, even now I will freely forgive you."
+
+Henry now wished to tell his father the truth; but he was ashamed to
+own his wickedness, and he hoped that it would never be found out that
+he was the thief.
+
+When John came in, Mr. Fairchild said:
+
+"John, there is one of the apples taken from the young apple-tree
+opposite the parlour window."
+
+"Sir," said John, "I did not take it, but I think I can guess which way
+it went." Then John looked very hard at Henry, and Henry trembled and
+shook all over. "I saw Master Henry this morning run behind the stable
+with a large apple in his hand, and he stayed there till he had eaten
+it, and then he came out."
+
+"Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "is this true? Are you a thief--and a
+liar, too?" And Mr. Fairchild's voice was very terrible when he spoke.
+
+Then Henry fell down upon his knees and confessed his wickedness.
+
+"Go from my sight, bad boy!" said Mr. Fairchild; "if you had told the
+truth at first, I should have forgiven you, but now I will not forgive
+you."
+
+Then Mr. Fairchild ordered John to take Henry, and lock him up in a
+little room at the top of the house, where he could not speak to any
+person. Poor Henry cried sadly, and Lucy and Emily cried too; but Mr.
+Fairchild would not excuse Henry.
+
+"It is better," he said, "that he should be punished in this world
+whilst he is a little boy than grow up to be a liar and a thief."
+
+So poor Henry was locked up by himself in a little room at the very top
+of the house. He sat down on a small box and cried sadly. He hoped that
+his mother and father would have sent him some breakfast; but they did
+not. At twelve o'clock he looked out of the window and saw his mother
+and sisters walking in the meadows at a little distance, and he saw his
+father come and fetch them in to dinner, as he supposed; and then he
+hoped that he should have some dinner sent him; but no dinner came.
+Some time after he saw Betty go down into the meadow to milk the cow;
+then he knew that it was five o'clock, and that it would soon be night;
+then he began to cry again.
+
+"Oh! I am afraid," he said, "that papa will make me stay here all
+night! and I shall be alone, for God will not take care of me because
+of my wickedness."
+
+Soon afterwards Henry saw the sun go down behind the hills, and he
+heard the rooks as they were going to rest in their nests at the top of
+some tall trees near the house. Soon afterwards it became dusk, and
+then quite dark. "Oh! dear, dear," said Henry, when he found himself
+sitting alone in the dark, "what a wicked boy I have been to-day! I
+stole an apple, and told two or three lies about it! I have made my
+papa and mamma unhappy, and my poor sisters, too! How could I do such
+things? And now I must spend all this night in this dismal place; and
+God will not take care of me because I am so naughty."
+
+Then Henry cried very sadly indeed. After which he knelt down and
+prayed that God would forgive him, till he found himself getting more
+happy in his mind.
+
+When he got up from his prayer he heard the step of someone coming
+upstairs; he thought it was his mother, and his little heart was very
+glad indeed. Henry was right: it was indeed his mother come to see her
+poor little boy. He soon heard her unlock the door, and in a moment he
+ran into her arms.
+
+"Is Henry sorry for his naughtiness?" said Mrs. Fairchild, as she sat
+down and took him upon her lap. "Are you sorry, my dear child, for your
+very great naughtiness?"
+
+"Oh, indeed I am!" said Henry, sobbing and crying; "I am very sorry,
+pray forgive me. I have asked God to forgive me; and I think that He
+has heard my prayer, for I feel happier than I did."
+
+"But have you thought, Henry, of the great wrong which you have done?"
+
+"Yes, mamma, I have been thinking of it a great deal; I know that what
+I did this morning was a very great sin."
+
+"Why do you say this morning?" said Mrs. Fairchild; "the sin that you
+committed was the work of several days."
+
+"How, mamma?" said Henry; "I was not two minutes stealing the apple,
+and papa found it out before breakfast."
+
+"Still, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that sin was the work of many
+days." Henry listened to his mother, and she went on speaking: "Do you
+remember those little chickens which came out of the eggs in the hen's
+nest last Monday morning?"
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Henry.
+
+"Do you think," said Mrs. Fairchild, "that they were made the moment
+before they came out?"
+
+"No, mamma," said Henry; "papa said they were growing in the egg-shell
+a long time before they came out alive."
+
+_Mrs. Fairchild._ "In the same manner the great sin you committed this
+morning was growing in your heart some days before it came out."
+
+"How, mamma?" said Henry. "I do not understand."
+
+_Mrs. Fairchild._ "All wrong things which we do are first formed in our
+hearts; and sometimes our sins are very long before they come to their
+full growth. The great sin you committed this morning began to be
+formed in your heart three days ago. Do you remember that that very day
+in which your father forbade you to touch the apples, you stood in the
+parlour window and looked at them, and you admired their beautiful
+appearance? This was the beginning of your sin. Your sister Lucy told
+you at the time not to look at them, and she did well; for by looking
+at forbidden things we are led to desire them, and when we desire them
+very much we proceed to take them. Your father forbade you to touch
+these apples; therefore, my dear child, you ought not to have allowed
+yourself to think of them for one moment. When you first thought about
+them, you did not suppose that this thought would end in so very great
+a sin as you have now been guilty of."
+
+"Oh, mamma," said Henry, "I will try to remember what you have said to
+me all my life."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild kissed little Henry then, and said:
+
+"God bless you, my child, and give you a holy heart, which may never
+think or design any evil."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild then led Henry down into the parlour, where Mr.
+Fairchild and Lucy and Emily were waiting for them to go to tea. Mr.
+Fairchild kissed his little boy, and Lucy and Emily smiled to see him.
+
+"Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "you have had a sad day of it; but I did
+not punish you, my child, because I do not love you, but because I do."
+
+Then Mr. Fairchild cut a large piece of bread-and-butter for Henry,
+which he was very glad of, for he was very hungry.
+
+[Illustration: "_Behind the stable._"--Page 26.]
+
+
+
+
+Story of an Unhappy Day
+
+[Illustration: Lucy and Emily]
+
+
+It happened that Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had had nothing for a long time
+to interrupt them in the care and management of their children; so that
+they had had it in their power to teach them and guard them from all
+evil influences. I will tell you exactly how they lived and spent their
+time; Emily and Lucy slept together in a little closet on one side of
+their mother and father's room; and Henry had a little room on the
+other side, where he slept. As soon as the children got up, they used
+to go into their father and mother's room to prayers; after which Henry
+went with Mr. Fairchild into the garden, whilst Lucy and Emily made
+their beds and rubbed the furniture; afterwards they all met at
+breakfast, dressed neatly but very plain. At breakfast the children ate
+what their mother gave them, and seldom spoke till they were spoken to.
+After breakfast Betty and John were called in and all went to prayers.
+Then Henry went into his father's study to his lessons; and Lucy and
+Emily stayed with their mother, working and reading till twelve
+o'clock, when they used to go out to take a walk all together;
+sometimes they went to the schools, and sometimes they went to see a
+poor person. When they came in, dinner was ready. After dinner the
+little girls and Mrs. Fairchild worked, whilst Henry read to them, till
+tea-time; and after tea Lucy and Emily played with their doll and
+worked for it, and Henry busied himself in making some little things of
+wood, which his father showed him how to do. And so they spent their
+time, till Betty and John came in to evening prayers; then the children
+had each of them a baked apple and went to bed.
+
+Now all this time the little ones were in the presence of their father
+and mother, and kept carefully from doing openly naughty things by the
+watchful eyes of their dear parents. One day it happened, when they had
+been living a long time in this happy way, that Lucy said to Mrs.
+Fairchild, "Mamma, I think that Emily and Henry and I are much better
+children than we used to be; we have not been punished for a very long
+time."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "do not boast or think well of
+yourself; it is always a bad sign when people boast of themselves. If
+you have not done any very naughty thing lately, it is not because
+there is any goodness or wisdom in you, but because your papa and I
+have been always with you, carefully watching and guiding you from
+morning till night."
+
+That same evening a letter came for Mr. Fairchild, from an old lady who
+lived about four miles off, begging that he and Mrs. Fairchild would
+come over, if it was convenient, to see her the next day to settle some
+business of consequence. This old lady's name was Mrs. Goodriche, and
+she lived in a very neat little house just under a hill, with Sukey her
+maid. It was the very house in which Mrs. Howard lived about fifty
+years ago, as we shall hear later on.
+
+When Mr. Fairchild got the letter he ordered John to get the horse
+ready by daybreak next morning, and to put the pillion on it for Mrs.
+Fairchild; so Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild got up very early, and when they
+had kissed their children, who were still asleep, they set off.
+
+Now it happened, very unluckily, that Mrs. Fairchild, at this time, had
+given Betty leave to go for two or three days to see her father, and
+she was not yet returned; so there was nobody left in the house to take
+care of the children but John. And now I will tell you how these
+children spent the day whilst their father and mother were out.
+
+When Lucy and Emily awoke, they began playing in their beds. Emily made
+babies of the pillows, and Lucy pulled off the sheets and tied them
+round her, in imitation of Lady Noble's long-trained gown; and thus
+they spent their time till Henry came to the door to tell them that
+breakfast was ready.
+
+"And I have persuaded John," said Henry, "to make us toast and butter;
+and it looks so nice! Make haste and come down; do, sisters, do!" And
+he continued to drum upon the door with a stick until his sisters were
+dressed.
+
+Emily and Lucy put on their clothes as quickly as they could and went
+downstairs with their brother, without praying, washing themselves,
+combing their hair, making their bed, or doing any one thing they ought
+to have done.
+
+John had, indeed, made a large quantity of toast and butter; but the
+children were not satisfied with what John had made, for when they had
+eaten all that he had provided, yet they would toast more themselves,
+and put butter on it before the fire as they had seen Betty do; so the
+hearth was covered with crumbs and grease, and they wasted almost as
+much as they ate.
+
+After breakfast, they took out their books to learn their lessons; but
+they had eaten so much that they could not learn with any pleasure; and
+Lucy, who thought she would be very clever, began to scold Henry and
+Emily for their idleness; and Henry and Emily, in their turn, found
+fault with her; so that they began to dispute, and would soon, I fear,
+have proceeded to something worse if Henry had not spied a little pig
+in the garden.
+
+"Oh, sisters," said he, "there is a pig in the garden, in the
+flower-bed! Look! look! And what mischief it will do! Papa will be very
+angry. Come, sisters, let us hunt it out."
+
+So saying, down went Henry's book, and away he ran into the garden,
+followed by Emily and Lucy, running as fast as they could. They soon
+drove the pig out of the garden, and it would have been well if they
+had stopped there; but, instead of that, they followed it down into the
+lane. Now, there was a place where a spring ran across the lane, over
+which was a narrow bridge for the use of people that way. Now the pig
+did not stand to look for the bridge, but went splash, splash, through
+the midst of the water: and after him went Henry, Lucy, and Emily,
+though they were up to their knees in mud and dirt.
+
+[Illustration: "_Away he ran into the garden, followed by Lucy and
+Emily._"--Page 39.]
+
+In this dirty condition they ran on till they came close to a house
+where a farmer and his wife lived whose name was Freeman. These people
+were not such as lived in the fear of God, neither did they bring up
+their children well; on which account Mr. Fairchild had often forbidden
+Lucy and Emily and Henry to go to their house. However, when the
+children were opposite this house, Mrs. Freeman saw them through the
+kitchen window; and seeing they were covered with mud, she came out and
+brought them in, and dried their clothes by the fire; which was, so
+far, very kind of her, only the children should not have gone into the
+house, as they had been so often forbidden by their parents.
+
+Mrs. Freeman would have had them stay all day and play with their
+children; and Henry and his sisters would have been very glad to have
+accepted her invitation, but they were afraid: so Mrs. Freeman let them
+go; but, before they went, she gave them each a large piece of cake,
+and something sweet to drink, which she said would do them good. Now
+this sweet stuff was cider; and as they were never used to drink
+anything but water, it made them quite giddy for a little while; so
+that when they got back into the lane, first one tumbled down, and then
+another; and their faces became flushed, and their heads began to ache,
+so that they were forced to sit down for a time under a tree, on the
+side of the lane, and there they were when John came to find them; for
+John, who was in the stable when they ran out of the garden, was much
+frightened when he returned to the house, and could not find them
+there.
+
+"Ah, you naughty children!" said he, when he found them, "you have
+almost frightened me out of my life! Where have you been?"
+
+"We have been in the lane," said Lucy, blushing.
+
+This was not all the truth; but one fault always leads to another.
+
+So John brought them home, and locked them up in their play-room,
+whilst he got their dinner ready.
+
+When the children found themselves shut up in their play-room, and
+could not get out, they sat themselves down, and began to think how
+naughty they had been. They were silent for a few minutes; at last Lucy
+spoke:
+
+"Oh, Henry! oh, Emily! how naughty we have been! And yet I thought I
+would be so good when papa and mamma went out; so very good! What
+shall we say when papa and mamma come home?"
+
+Then all the children began to cry. At length Henry said:
+
+"I'll tell you what we will do, Lucy; we will be good all the evening;
+we will not do one naughty thing."
+
+"So we will, Henry," said Emily. "When John lets us out, how good we
+will be! and then we can tell the truth, that we were naughty in the
+morning, but we were good all the evening."
+
+John made some nice apple-dumplings for the children, and when they
+were ready, and he had put some butter and sugar upon them (for John
+was a good-natured man), he fetched the children down; and after they
+had each ate as much apple-dumpling as he thought proper, he told them
+they might play in the barn, bidding them not to stir out of it till
+supper-time.
+
+Henry and Lucy and Emily were delighted with this permission; and, as
+Lucy ran along to the barn with her brother and sister, she said:
+
+"Now let us be very good. We are not to do anything naughty all this
+evening."
+
+"We will be very good indeed," answered Emily.
+
+"Better than we ever were in all our lives," added Henry.
+
+So they all went into the barn, and when John fastened them in he said
+to himself, "Sure they will be safe now, till I have looked to the pigs
+and milked the cow; for there is nothing in the barn but straw and hay,
+and they cannot hurt themselves with that, sure."
+
+But John was mistaken. As soon as he was gone, Henry spied a swing,
+which Mr. Fairchild had made in the barn for the children, but which he
+never allowed them to use when he was not with them, because swings are
+very dangerous things, unless there are very careful persons to use
+them. The seat of the swing was tied up to the side of the barn, above
+the children's reach, as Mr. Fairchild thought.
+
+"Oh, Lucy!" said Henry, "there is the swing. There can be no harm in
+our swinging a little. If papa was here, I am sure he would let us
+swing. If you and Emily will help to lift me up, I will untie it and
+let it down, and then we will swing so nicely."
+
+So Emily and Lucy lifted Henry up, and he untied the swing, and let it
+down into its right place; but as he was getting down, his coat caught
+upon a bit of wood on the side of the barn, and was much torn. However,
+the children did not trouble themselves very much about this accident.
+First Emily got into the swing, then Henry, then Lucy; and then Emily
+would get in again.
+
+"Now, Lucy," she said, "swing me high, and I will shut my eyes; you
+can't think how pleasant it is to swing with one's eyes shut. Swing me
+higher! swing me higher!"
+
+So she went on calling to Lucy, and Lucy trying to swing her higher and
+higher, till at last the swing turned, and down came Emily to the
+floor. There happened providentially to be some straw on the floor, or
+she would have been killed. As it was, however, she was sadly hurt; she
+lay for some minutes without speaking, and her mouth and nose poured
+out blood.
+
+Henry and Lucy thought she was dead; and, oh! how frightened they were!
+They screamed so violently that John came running to see what was the
+matter; and, poor man! he was sadly frightened when he saw Emily lying
+on the floor covered with blood. He lifted her up and brought her into
+the house; he saw she was not dead, but he did not know how much she
+might be hurt. When he had washed her face from the blood, and given
+her a little water to drink, she recovered a little; but her nose and
+one eye, and her lip, were terribly swelled, and two of her teeth were
+out.
+
+When Emily was a little recovered, John placed her in a little chair by
+the kitchen fire, and he took his blue pocket-handkerchief and tied
+Lucy and Henry to the kitchen-table, saying:
+
+"You unlucky rogues! you have given me trouble enough to-day--that you
+have. I will not let you go out of my sight again till master and
+mistress come home. Thank God you have not killed your sister! Who
+would have thought of your loosing the swing!"
+
+In this manner Henry and Lucy and Emily remained till it was nearly
+dark, and then they heard the sound of the horse's feet coming up to
+the kitchen door, for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come. John hastened
+to untie the children, who trembled from head to foot.
+
+"Oh, John, John! what shall we do--what shall we say?" said Lucy.
+
+"The truth, the truth, and all the truth," said John; "it is the best
+thing you can do now."
+
+When Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild came in, they thought their children would
+have run to meet them; but they were so conscious of their naughtiness
+that they all crept behind John, and Emily hid her face.
+
+"Emily, Lucy, Henry!" said Mrs. Fairchild, "you keep back; what is the
+matter?"
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa!" said Lucy, coming forward, "we have
+been very wicked children to-day; we are not fit to come near you."
+
+"What have you done, Lucy?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "Tell us the whole
+truth."
+
+Then Lucy told her parents everything which she and her brother and
+sister had done; she did not hide anything from them. You may be sure
+that Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were very much shocked. When they heard
+all that Lucy had to tell them, and saw Emily's face, they looked very
+grave indeed.
+
+"I am glad that you have told the truth, my children," said Mr.
+Fairchild; "but the faults that you have committed are very serious
+ones. You have disobeyed your parents; and, in consequence of your
+disobedience, Emily might have lost her life, if God had not been very
+merciful to you. And now go all of you to your beds."
+
+The children did as their father bade them, and went silently up to
+their beds, where they cried sadly, thinking upon their naughtiness.
+The next morning they all three came into their mother's room, and
+begged her to kiss them and forgive them.
+
+"I cannot refuse to pardon you, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild;
+"but, indeed, you made me and your father very unhappy last night."
+
+Then the children looked at their mother's eyes, and they were full of
+tears; and they felt more and more sorry to think how greatly they had
+grieved their kind mother; and when Mrs. Fairchild kissed them, and put
+her arms round their necks, they cried more than ever.
+
+
+
+
+Story of Ambition; or, The Wish to be Great
+
+[Illustration: They went along the great gallery]
+
+
+Twice every year Sir Charles and Lady Noble used to invite Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild and their children to spend a day with them at their house.
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild did not much like to go, because Sir Charles and
+his lady were very proud, and their children were not brought up in the
+fear of God; yet, as the visit only happened twice a year, Mr.
+Fairchild thought it better to go than to have a quarrel with his
+neighbour. Mrs. Fairchild always had two plain muslin frocks, with
+white mittens and neat black shoes, for Lucy and Emily to wear when
+they went to see Lady Noble. As Mr. Fairchild's house was as much as
+two miles distance from Sir Charles Noble's, Sir Charles always used to
+send his carriage for them, and to bring them back again at night.
+
+One morning, just at breakfast-time, Mr. Fairchild came into the
+parlour, saying to Mrs. Fairchild:
+
+"Here, my dear, is a note from Sir Charles Noble, inviting us to spend
+the day to-morrow, and the children."
+
+"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "as Sir Charles Noble has been so
+kind as to ask us, we must not offend him by refusing to go."
+
+The next morning Mr. Fairchild desired his wife and children to be
+ready at twelve o'clock, which was the time fixed for the coach to be
+at Mr. Fairchild's door. Accordingly, soon after eleven, Mrs. Fairchild
+dressed Lucy and Emily, and made them sit quietly down till the
+carriage came. As Lucy and Emily sat in the corner of the room, Lucy
+looked at Emily, and said:
+
+"Sister, how pretty you look!"
+
+"And how nice you look, Lucy!" said Emily. "These frocks are very
+pretty, and make us look very well."
+
+"My dear little girls," said Mrs. Fairchild, who overheard what they
+said to each other, "do not be conceited because you have got your best
+frocks on. You now think well of yourselves, because you fancy you are
+well dressed; by-and-by, when you get to Lady Noble's, you will find
+Miss Augusta much finer dressed than yourselves; then you will be out
+of humour with yourselves for as little reason as you now are pleased."
+
+At this moment Henry came in his Sunday coat to tell his mother that
+Sir Charles Noble's carriage was come. Mrs. Fairchild was quite ready;
+and Lucy and Emily were in such a hurry that Emily had nearly tumbled
+downstairs over her sister, and Lucy was upon the point of slipping
+down on the step of the hall-door; however, they all got into the coach
+without any accident, and the coachman drove away, and that so rapidly
+that they soon came in sight of Sir Charles Noble's house.
+
+As it is not likely that you ever saw Sir Charles Noble's house, I will
+give you some account of it. It is a very large house, built of smooth
+white stone; it stands in a fine park, or green lawn, scattered over
+with tall trees and shrubs; but there were no leaves on the trees at
+the time I am speaking of, because it was winter.
+
+When the carriage drove up to the hall-door, a smart footman came out,
+opened the carriage-door, and showed Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild through a
+great many rooms into a grand parlour, where Lady Noble was sitting
+upon a sofa, by a large fire, with several other ladies, all of whom
+were handsomely dressed. Now, as I told you before, Lady Noble was a
+proud woman; so she did not take much notice of Mrs. Fairchild when she
+came in, although she ordered the servants to set a chair for her. Miss
+Augusta Noble was seated on the sofa by her mamma, playing with a very
+beautiful wax doll; and her two brothers, William and Edward, were
+standing by her; but they never came forward to Mrs. Fairchild's
+children to say that they were glad to see them, or to show them any
+kind of civility. If children knew how disagreeable they make
+themselves when they are rude and ill-behaved, surely they would never
+be so, but would strive to be civil and courteous to everyone.
+
+Soon after Mrs. Fairchild was seated, a servant came to say that Miss
+Noble's and Master William's and Master Edward's dinners were ready.
+
+"Go, Augusta," said Lady Noble, "to your dinner, and take Master and
+Misses Fairchild with you; and, after you have dined, show them your
+playthings and your baby-house."
+
+Miss Augusta got up, and, as she passed by Emily and Lucy, she said in
+a very haughty way, "Mamma says you must come with me."
+
+So Emily and Lucy followed Miss Augusta, and the little boys came after
+them. She went up a pair of grand stairs, and along a very long gallery
+full of pictures, till they came to a large room, where Miss Augusta's
+governess was sitting at work, and the children's dinner set out in
+great order. In one corner of the room was the baby-house. Besides the
+baby-house, there was a number of other toys--a large rocking-horse, a
+cradle with a big wooden doll lying in it, and tops, and carts, and
+coaches, and whips, and trumpets in abundance.
+
+"Here are Mrs. Fairchild's children come to dine with me, ma'am," said
+Miss Augusta, as she opened the door; "this is Lucy, and this is Emily,
+and that is Henry."
+
+The governess did not take much notice of Mrs. Fairchild's children,
+but said, "Miss Augusta, I wish you would shut the door after you, for
+it is very cold."
+
+I do not know whether Miss Augusta heard her governess, but she never
+offered to go back to shut the door.
+
+The governess, whose name was Beaumont, then called to Master Edward,
+who was just coming in, to shut the door after him.
+
+"You may shut it yourself, if you want it shut," answered the rude boy.
+
+When Lucy heard this she immediately ran and shut the door, upon which
+Miss Beaumont looked more civilly at her than she had done before, and
+thanked her for her attention.
+
+Whilst Lucy was shutting the door, Miss Augusta began to stir the fire.
+
+"Miss Augusta," said the lady, "has not your mamma often forbidden you
+to touch the fire? Some day you will set your frock on fire."
+
+Miss Augusta did not heed what her governess said this time any more
+than the last, but went on raking the fire; till at length Miss
+Beaumont, fearing some mischief, forced the poker out of her hand. Miss
+Augusta looked very much displeased, and was going to make a pert
+answer, when her mother and the other ladies came into the room to see
+the children dine. The young ones immediately seated themselves quietly
+at the table to eat their dinner.
+
+"Are my children well behaved?" said Lady Noble, speaking to the
+governess. "I thought I heard you finding fault with Augusta when I
+came in."
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am," said the governess; "Miss Augusta is a good young
+lady; I seldom have reason to find fault with her."
+
+Lucy and Emily looked at Miss Beaumont, and wondered to hear her say
+that Miss Augusta was good, but they were silent.
+
+"I am happy to say," said Lady Noble, speaking to Mrs. Fairchild, "that
+mine are promising children. Augusta has a good heart."
+
+Just at that moment a servant came in, and set a plate of apples on the
+table.
+
+"Miss Beaumont," said Lady Noble, "take care that Augusta does not eat
+above one apple; you know that she was unwell yesterday from eating too
+many."
+
+Miss Beaumont assured Lady Noble that she would attend to her wishes,
+and the ladies left the room. When they were gone the governess gave
+two apples to each of the children, excepting Augusta, to whom she gave
+only one. The rest of the apples she took out of the plate, and put in
+her work-bag for her own eating.
+
+When everyone had done dinner and the table-cloth was taken away, Lady
+Noble's children got up and left the table, and Henry and Emily were
+following, but Lucy whispered to them to say grace. Accordingly they
+stood still by the table, and, putting their hands together, they said
+the grace which they had been used to say after dinner at home.
+
+"What are you doing?" said Augusta.
+
+"We are saying grace," answered Lucy.
+
+"Oh, I forgot," said Augusta; "your mamma is religious, and makes you
+do all these things. How tiresome it must be! And where's the use of
+it? It will be time enough to be religious, you know, when we get old,
+and expect to die."
+
+"Oh, but," said little Henry, "perhaps we may never live to be old;
+many children die younger than we are."
+
+Whilst Henry was speaking, William and Edward stood listening to him
+with their mouths wide open, and when he had finished his speech they
+broke out into a fit of laughter.
+
+"When our parson dies, you shall be parson, Henry," said Edward; "but
+I'll never go to church when you preach."
+
+"No, he shan't be parson--he shall be clerk," said William; "then he
+will have all the graves to dig."
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Henry: "your mamma was never worse out in
+her life than when she said hers were good children."
+
+"Take that for your sauciness, you little beggar!" said Master William,
+giving Henry a blow on the side of the head; and he would have given
+him several more had not Lucy and Emily run in between.
+
+"If you fight in this room, boys, I shall tell my mamma," said Miss
+Augusta. "Come, go downstairs; we don't want you here. Go and feed your
+dogs."
+
+William and Edward accordingly went off, and left the little girls and
+Henry to play quietly. Lucy and Emily were very much pleased with the
+baby-house and the dolls, and Henry got upon the rocking-horse; and so
+they amused themselves for a while. At length Miss Beaumont, who had
+been sitting at work, went to fetch a book from an adjoining room. As
+soon as she was out of sight, Miss Augusta, going softly up to the
+table, took two apples out of her work-bag.
+
+"Oh, Miss Augusta, what are you doing?" said Emily.
+
+"She is stealing," said Henry.
+
+"Stealing!" said Miss Augusta, coming back into the corner of the room
+where the baby-house was; "what a vulgar boy you are! What words you
+use!"
+
+"You don't like to be called a thief," said Henry, "though you are not
+ashamed to steal, I see."
+
+"Do, Miss Augusta, put the apples back," said Emily; "your mamma said
+you must have but one, you know, to-day, and you have had one already."
+
+"Hush, hush!" said Miss Augusta; "here's my governess coming back.
+Don't say a word."
+
+So saying, she slipped the apples into the bosom of her frock, and ran
+out of the room.
+
+"Where are you going, Miss Augusta?" exclaimed Miss Beaumont.
+
+"Mamma has sent for me," answered Augusta; "I shall be back
+immediately."
+
+When Miss Augusta had eaten the apples, she came back quietly, and sat
+down to play with Lucy and Emily as if nothing had happened. Soon after
+the governess looked into her work-bag, and found that two of the
+apples were gone.
+
+"Miss Augusta," she said, "you have taken two apples: there are two
+gone."
+
+"I have not touched them," said Miss Augusta.
+
+"Some of you have," said Miss Beaumont, looking at the other children.
+
+"I can't tell who has," said Miss Augusta; "but I know it was not me."
+
+Lucy and Emily felt very angry, but they did not speak; but Henry
+would have spoken if his sister Lucy had not put her hand on his mouth.
+
+"I see," said Miss Beaumont, "that some of you have taken the apples,
+and I desire that you Miss Emily, and you Miss Lucy, and you Master
+Henry, will come and sit down quietly by me, for I don't know what
+mischief you may do next."
+
+Now the governess did not really suppose that Mrs. Fairchild's children
+had taken the apples; but she chose to scold them because she was not
+afraid of offending their parents, but she was very much afraid of
+offending Miss Augusta and her mamma. So she made Lucy and Emily and
+Henry sit quietly down by her side before the fire. It was now getting
+dark, and a maid-servant came in with a candle, and, setting it upon
+the table, said,
+
+"Miss Augusta, it is time for you to be dressed to go down to tea with
+the ladies."
+
+"Well," said Miss Augusta, "bring me my clothes, and I will be dressed
+by the fireside."
+
+The servant then went into the closet I before spoke of, and soon
+returned with a beautiful muslin frock, wrought with flowers, a
+rose-coloured sash and shoes, and a pearl necklace. Emily and Lucy had
+never seen such fine clothes before; and when they saw Miss Augusta
+dressed in them they could not help looking at their own plain frocks
+and black shoes and feeling quite ashamed of them, though there was no
+more reason to be ashamed of their clothes at that time than there was
+of their being proud of them when they were first put on.
+
+[Illustration: "_Emily and Lucy had never seen such fine clothes
+before._"--Page 52.]
+
+When Miss Augusta was dressed, she said to the maid-servant,
+
+"Take the candle and light me down to the hall." Then, turning to Emily
+and Lucy, she added, "Will you come with me? I suppose you have not
+brought any clean frocks to put on? Well, never mind; when we get into
+the drawing-room you must keep behind your mamma's chair, and nobody
+will take any notice of you."
+
+So Miss Augusta walked first, with the maid-servant, and Henry, and
+Lucy, and Emily followed. They went along the great gallery, and down
+the stairs, and through several fine rooms, all lighted up with many
+lamps and candles, till they came to the door where Sir Charles and
+Lady Noble, and Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, and a great many ladies and
+gentlemen were sitting in a circle round a fire. Lucy and Emily and
+Henry went and stood behind their mother's chair, and nobody took any
+notice of them; but Miss Augusta went in among the company, curtseying
+to one, giving her hand to another, and nodding and smiling at another.
+"What a charming girl Miss Augusta has grown!" said one of the ladies.
+"Your daughter, Lady Noble, will be quite a beauty," said another.
+"What an elegant frock Miss Augusta has on!" said a third lady. "That
+rose-coloured sash makes her sweet complexion more lovely than ever,"
+said one of the gentlemen; and so they went on flattering her till she
+grew more conceited and full of herself than ever; and during all the
+rest of the evening she took no more notice of Mrs. Fairchild's
+children than if they had not been in the room.
+
+After the company had all drank tea, several tables were set out, and
+the ladies and gentlemen began to make parties for playing at cards. As
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild never played at cards, they asked for the coach,
+and, when it was ready, wished Sir Charles and Lady Noble good-night,
+and came away.
+
+"Well," said little Henry, "Sir Charles Noble's may be a very fine
+house, and everything may be very fine in it, but I like my own little
+home and garden, and John, and the meadow, and the apple-trees, and the
+round hill, and the lane, better than all the fine things at Sir
+Charles's."
+
+Now all this while Emily and Lucy did not speak a word; and what do you
+think was the reason? It was this: that the sight of Miss Augusta's
+fine clothes and playthings, and beautiful rooms in which she lived,
+with the number of people she had to attend her, had made them both out
+of humour with their own humble way of living, and small house and
+plain clothes. Their hearts were full of the desire of being great,
+like Miss Augusta, and having things like her; but they did not dare to
+tell their thoughts to their mother.
+
+When they got home, Mrs. Fairchild gave a baked apple to each of the
+children, and some warm milk and water to drink; and after they had
+prayed, she sent them to bed. When Emily and Lucy had got into bed, and
+Betty had taken away the candle, Lucy said,
+
+"Oh, Emily! I wish our papa and mamma were like Sir Charles and Lady
+Noble. What a beautiful frock that was that Miss Augusta had on! and I
+dare say that she has a great many more like it. And that sash!--I
+never saw so fine a colour."
+
+_Emily._ "And then the ladies and gentlemen said she was so pretty, and
+even her governess did not dare to find fault with her!"
+
+_Lucy._ "But Betty finds fault with us, and John, too; and papa and
+mamma make us work so hard! and we have such coarse clothes! Even our
+best frocks are not so good as those Miss Augusta wears every morning."
+
+In this manner they went on talking till Mrs. Fairchild came upstairs
+and into their room. As they had thick curtains round their bed, it
+being very cold weather, they did not see their mamma come into the
+room, and so she heard a great deal of what they were talking about
+without their knowing it. She came up to the side of their bed, and sat
+down in a chair which stood near it, and putting the curtains aside a
+little, she said, "My dear little girls, as I came into the room I
+heard some part of what you were saying without intending it; and I am
+glad I heard it, because I can put you in a way of getting rid of these
+foolish thoughts and desires which you are speaking of to each other.
+Do not be ashamed, my dears; I am your own mamma, and love you dearly.
+Do you remember, Lucy, when Emily got that beautiful doll from Lady
+Noble, that you said you felt something in your heart which made you
+very miserable?"
+
+_Lucy._ "Yes, mamma, I remember it very well; you told me it was envy.
+But I do not feel envy now; I do not wish to take Miss Augusta's things
+from her, or to hurt her; Emily and I only wish to be like her, and to
+have the same things she has."
+
+"What you now feel, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "is not exactly
+envy, though it is very like it; it is what is called ambition.
+Ambition is the desire to be greater than we are. Ambition makes people
+unhappy and discontented with what they are and what they have."
+
+"I do not exactly understand, mamma," said Emily, "what ambition makes
+people do."
+
+"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "suppose that Betty was ambitious,
+she would be discontented at being a servant, and would want to be as
+high as her mistress; and if I were ambitious, I should strive to be
+equal to Lady Noble; and Lady Noble would want to be as great as the
+duchess, who lives at that beautiful house which we passed by when we
+went to see your grandmamma; the duchess, if she were ambitious, would
+wish to be like the Queen."
+
+_Emily._ "But the Queen could be no higher, so she could not be
+ambitious."
+
+_Mrs. Fairchild._ "My dear, you are much mistaken. When you are old
+enough to read history, you will find that when Kings and Queens are
+ambitious, it does more harm even than when little people are so. When
+Kings are ambitious, they desire to be greater than other Kings, and
+then they fight with them, and cause many cruel wars and dreadful
+miseries. So, my dear children, you see that there is no end to the
+mischief which ambition does; and whenever this desire to be great
+comes, it makes us unhappy, and in the end ruins us."
+
+Then Mrs. Fairchild showed to her children how much God loves people
+who are lowly and humble; and she knelt by the bedside and prayed that
+God would take all desire to be great out of her dear little girls'
+hearts.
+
+[Illustration: "_Dressed._"--Page 52.]
+
+
+
+
+The All-Seeing God
+
+[Illustration: At last she fell asleep]
+
+
+I must tell you of a sad temptation into which Emily fell about this
+time. It is a sad story, but you shall hear it.
+
+There was a room in Mrs. Fairchild's house which was not often used. In
+this room was a closet, full of shelves, where Mrs. Fairchild used to
+keep her sugar and tea, and sweetmeats and pickles, and many other
+things. Now, as Betty was very honest, and John, too, Mrs. Fairchild
+would often leave this closet unlocked for weeks together, and never
+missed anything out of it. One day, at the time that damsons were ripe,
+Mrs. Fairchild and Betty boiled up a great many damsons in sugar, to
+use in the winter; and when they had put them in jars and tied them
+down, they put them in the closet I before spoke of. Emily and Lucy saw
+their mother boil the damsons, and helped Betty to cover them and carry
+them to the closet. As Emily was carrying one of the jars she perceived
+that it was tied down so loosely that she could put in her finger and
+get at the fruit. Accordingly, she took out one of the damsons and ate
+it. It was so nice that she was tempted to take another; and was going
+even to take a third, when she heard Betty coming up. She covered the
+jar in haste and came away. Some months after this, one evening, just
+about the time it was getting dark, she was passing by the room where
+these sweetmeats were kept, and she observed that the door was open.
+She looked round to see if anybody was near, but there was no one. Her
+parents, and her brother and sister, were in the parlour, and Betty was
+in the kitchen, and John was in the garden. No eye was looking at her
+but the eye of God, who sees everything we do, and knows even the
+secret thoughts of the heart; but at that moment the fear of God was
+not in the heart of Emily. Accordingly, she passed through the open
+door and went up to the closet. There she stood still again, and looked
+round, but saw no one. She then opened the closet door, and took two or
+three damsons, which she ate in great haste. She then went to her own
+room, and washed her hands and her mouth, and went down into the
+parlour, where Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were just going to tea.
+
+[Illustration: "_She took two or three damsons, which she ate in great
+haste._"--Page 60.]
+
+Although her parents never suspected what naughty thing Emily had been
+doing, and behaved just as usual to her, yet Emily felt frightened and
+uneasy before them; and every time they spoke to her, though it was
+only to ask the commonest question, she stared and looked frightened.
+
+I am sorry to say that the next day, when it was beginning to get dark,
+Emily went again to the closet and took some more damsons; and so she
+did for several days, though she knew she was doing wrong.
+
+On the Sunday following, it happened to be so rainy that nobody could
+go to church, in consequence of which Mr. Fairchild called all the
+family into the parlour and read the Morning Service and a sermon. Some
+sermons are hard and difficult for children to understand, but this
+was a very plain, easy sermon--even Henry could tell his mamma a great
+deal about it. The text was from Psalm cxxxix., 7th to 12th verses.
+
+The meaning of these verses was explained in the sermon. It was first
+shown that the Lord is a spirit; and, secondly, that there is no place
+where He is not: that if a person could go up into heaven, he would
+find God there; if he were to go down to hell, there also would he find
+God: that God is in every part of the earth, and of the sea, and of the
+sky; and that, being always present in every place, He knows everything
+we do and everything we say, and even every thought of our hearts,
+however secret we may think it. Then the sermon went on to show how
+foolish and mad it is for people to do wicked things in secret and dark
+places, trusting that God will not know it. "If I say, Surely the
+darkness shall cover me, even the night shall be light about me," for
+no night is dark unto God.
+
+While Mr. Fairchild was reading, Emily felt frightened and unhappy,
+thinking of the wickedness she was guilty of every day; and she even
+thought that she never would be guilty again of the same sin; but when
+the evening came all her good resolutions left her, for she confided in
+her own strength; and she went again to the room where the damsons were
+kept. However, when she came to the door of the closet, she thought of
+the sermon which her father had read in the morning, and stood still a
+few moments to consider what she should do. "There is nobody in this
+room," she said; "and nobody sees me, it is true, but God is in this
+room; He sees me; His eye is now upon me. I will not take any more
+damsons. I will go back, I think. But yet, as I am come so far, and am
+just got to the closet, I will just take one damson--it shall be the
+last. I will never come here again without mamma's leave." So she
+opened the closet door and took one damson, and then another, and then
+two more. Whilst she was taking the last, she heard the cat mew. She
+did not know that the cat had followed her into the room; and she was
+so frightened that she spilled some of the red juice upon her frock,
+but she did not perceive it at the time. She then left the closet, and
+went, as usual, to wash her hands and mouth, and went down into the
+parlour.
+
+When Emily got into the parlour, she immediately saw the red stain on
+her frock. She did not stay till it was observed, but ran out again
+instantly, and went upstairs and washed her frock. As the stain had not
+dried in, it came out with very little trouble; but not till Emily had
+wetted all the bosom of her frock and sleeves, and that so much that
+all her inner clothes were thoroughly wet, even to the skin; to hide
+this, she put her pinafore on to go down to tea. When she came down,
+"Where have you been, Emily?" said Mrs. Fairchild; "we have almost done
+tea."
+
+"I have been playing with the cat upstairs, mamma," said Emily. But
+when she told this sad untruth she felt very unhappy, and her
+complexion changed once or twice from red to pale.
+
+It was a cold evening, and Emily kept as much away from the fire and
+candle as she could, lest any spots should be left in her frock, and
+her mother should see them. She had no opportunity, therefore, of
+drying or warming herself, and she soon began to feel quite chilled and
+trembling. Soon after a burning heat came into the palms of her hands,
+and a soreness about her throat; however, she did not dare to complain,
+but sat till bedtime, getting every minute more and more uncomfortable.
+
+It was some time after she was in bed, and even after her parents came
+to bed, before she could sleep; at last she fell asleep, but her sleep
+was disturbed by dreadful dreams, such as she had never experienced
+before. It was her troubled conscience, together with an uneasy body,
+which gave her these dreadful dreams; and so horrible were they, that
+at length she awoke, screaming violently. Her parents heard her cry,
+and came running in to her, bringing a light; but she was in such a
+terror that at first she did not know them.
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "this child is in a burning fever!
+Only feel her hands!"
+
+It was true, indeed; and when Mr. Fairchild felt her, he was so much
+frightened that he resolved to watch by her all night, and in the
+morning, as soon as it was light, to send John for the doctor. But what
+do you suppose Emily felt all this time, knowing, as she did, how she
+had brought on this illness, and how she had deceived for many days
+this dear father and mother, who now gave up their own rest to attend
+her?
+
+Emily continued to get worse during the night: neither was the doctor
+able, when he came, to stop the fever which followed the severe chill
+she had taken, though he did his uttermost. It would have grieved you
+to have seen poor Lucy and Henry. They could neither read nor play,
+they missed their dear sister so much. They continually said to each
+other, "Oh, Emily! dear Emily! there is no pleasure without our dear
+Emily!"
+
+The next day, when the doctor came, Emily was so very ill that he
+thought it right that Lucy and Henry should be sent out of the house.
+Accordingly, John got the horse ready, and took them to Mrs.
+Goodriche's. Poor Lucy and Henry! How bitterly they cried when they
+went out of the gate, thinking that perhaps they might never see their
+dear Emily any more! It was a terrible trial to poor Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild. They had no comfort but in praying and watching by poor
+Emily's bed. And all this grief Emily brought upon her friends by her
+own naughtiness.
+
+Emily was exceedingly ill for nine days, and everyone feared that if
+the fever continued a few days longer she must die; when, by the mercy
+of God, it suddenly left her, and she fell asleep and continued
+sleeping for many hours.
+
+When she awoke, she was very weak, but her fever was gone. She kissed
+her parents, and wanted to tell them of the naughty things she had
+done, which had been the cause of the illness, but they would not allow
+her to speak.
+
+From that day she got better, and at the end of another week was so
+well that she was able to sit up and tell Mrs. Fairchild all the
+history of her stealing the damsons, and of the sad way in which she
+had got the fever.
+
+"Oh, mamma," said Emily, "what a naughty girl have I been! What trouble
+have I given to you, and to papa, and to the doctor, and to Betty! I
+thought that God would take no notice of my sin. I thought He did not
+see when I was stealing in the dark. But I was much mistaken. His eye
+was upon me all the time. And yet how good, how very good, He has been
+to me! When I was ill, I might have died. And oh, mamma! mamma! how
+unhappy you would have been then!"
+
+
+
+
+Emily's Recovery, and the Old Story of Mrs. Howard
+
+[Illustration: "What sound is that I hear?" said Emily]
+
+
+After Emily's fever was gone, she got rapidly better every day. Her
+kind mother never left her, but sat by her bed and talked to her, and
+provided everything which was likely to do her good.
+
+When she was well enough, Mr. Fairchild borrowed Farmer Jones's covered
+cart for two days; and he set out, with Mrs. Fairchild and Emily, to
+fetch Henry and Lucy from Mrs. Goodriche's. It was a lovely morning at
+the finest season of the year. The little birds were singing in the
+hedges, and the grass and leaves of the trees shone with the dew. When
+John drove the cart out of the garden-gate and down the lane, "Oh,"
+said Emily, "how sweet the honeysuckles and the wild roses smell in the
+hedges! There, mamma, are some young lambs playing in the fields by
+their mothers; and there is one quite white--not a spot about it. It
+turns its pretty face towards us. How mild and gentle it looks!"
+
+Whilst they were talking, the cart had come alongside a wood, which was
+exceedingly shady and beautiful. Many tufts of primroses, violets, and
+wood-anemones grew on the banks by the wayside; and as the wind blew
+gently over these flowers, it brought a most delightful smell.
+
+"What sound is that which I hear among the trees?" said Emily. "It is
+very sweet and soft."
+
+"That is the cooing of wood-pigeons or doves," said Mr. Fairchild. "And
+look, Emily, there they are! They are sitting upon the branch of a
+tree; there are two of them."
+
+"Oh, I see them!" said Emily. "Oh, how soft and pretty they look! But
+now the noise of the cart has frightened them; they are flown away."
+
+By this time the cart had passed through the wood, and they were come
+in sight of Mrs. Goodriche's white house standing in a little garden
+under a hill.
+
+"Oh, mamma, mamma!" said Emily, "there is Mrs. Goodriche's house! And I
+shall see my dear Lucy and Henry in a very little time."
+
+Just as Emily spoke, they saw Lucy and Henry step out of the
+house-door, and come running towards the cart. It would have pleased
+you to the heart had you seen how rejoiced these dear children were to
+meet each other. Mr. Fairchild lifted Henry and Lucy into the cart; and
+they cried for joy when they put their arms around dear Emily's neck.
+
+"Oh, Emily, Emily!" said Henry. "If you had died, I never would have
+played again."
+
+"God be praised!" said Mr. Fairchild. "Our dear Emily has been spared
+to us."
+
+When the cart came up to Mrs. Goodriche's garden-gate, the good old
+lady came to receive Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, and to kiss Emily; and
+Sukey peeped out of the kitchen-window, not less pleased than her
+mistress to see Emily in good health.
+
+Whilst Sukey was getting the dinner, Emily and her brother and
+sister went to play in the garden. Henry showed Emily some rabbits
+which Mrs. Goodriche had, and some young ducks which had been hatched a
+few days before, with many other pretty things. When dinner was ready,
+Mrs. Fairchild called the children in, and they all sat down, full of
+joy, to eat roast fowl and some boiled bacon, with a nice cold currant
+and raspberry pie.
+
+[Illustration: "_Emily and her brother and sister went to play in the
+garden._"--Page 68.]
+
+After dinner Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche, with the
+children, walked as far as the wood where Emily had seen the doves, to
+gather strawberries, which they mixed with some cream and sugar at
+night for their supper.
+
+The next morning, after breakfast, Mr. Fairchild went out to take a
+walk. Then Mrs. Goodriche called the three children to her, and said:
+
+"Now, my dear children, I will tell you a story. Come, sit round me
+upon these little stools, and hearken."
+
+The children were very much pleased when they heard Mrs. Goodriche say
+she would tell them a story, for Mrs. Goodriche could tell a great many
+pretty stories.
+
+
+The Old Story of Mrs. Howard
+
+"About fifty years ago," said Mrs. Goodriche, "a little old lady, named
+Mrs. Howard, lived in this house with her maid Betty. She had an old
+horse called Crop, which grazed in that meadow, and carried Betty to
+market once a week. Mrs. Howard was one of the kindest and most
+good-natured old ladies in England. Three or four times every year
+Betty had orders, when she went to market, to bring all manner of
+playthings and little books from the toy-shop. These playthings and
+pretty little books Mrs. Howard used to keep by her till she saw any
+children whom she thought worthy of them. But she never gave any
+playthings to children who did not obey their parents, or who were rude
+or ill-mannered, for she would say, 'It is a great sin in the eyes of
+God for children to be rude and unmannerly.' All the children in the
+neighbourhood used from time to time to visit Mrs. Howard; and those
+who wished to be obliging never came away without some pretty plaything
+or book.
+
+"At that time there were in this country two families of the name of
+Cartwright and Bennet; the former much beloved by the neighbours on
+account of their good qualities; the latter as much disliked for their
+bad ones.
+
+"Mr. Bennet was a rich farmer, and lived in a good old house, with
+everything handsome and plentiful about him; but nobody cared to go
+near him or to visit his wife, because their manners were so rough and
+disobliging; and their two children, Master Jacky and Miss Polly, were
+brought up only to please themselves and to care for nobody else. But,
+on the contrary, Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright made their house so agreeable
+by their civil and courteous manners that high and low, rich and poor,
+loved to go there; and Master Billy and Miss Patty Cartwright were
+spoken well of throughout the whole neighbourhood for their pretty and
+modest behaviour.
+
+"It happened once upon a time that Betty went to town at the end of the
+Midsummer Fair, and brought some of the prettiest toys and books which
+had been seen in this country for a long time; amongst these was a
+jointed doll with flaxen hair, and a history of the Bible full of
+coloured pictures, exceedingly pretty. Soon after Betty brought these
+things home, Mrs. Howard said to her: 'Betty, you must make a cake and
+put some plums in it, and a large apple-pie, and some custards and
+cheesecakes; and we will invite Master and Miss Cartwright, and Master
+Bennet and his sister Miss Polly, and some other children, to spend a
+day with us; and before they go home, we will give those who have
+behaved well during the day some of those pretty toys which you brought
+from the Midsummer Fair.'
+
+"Accordingly, Betty made the cake, and the cheesecakes, and custards,
+and the large apple-pie; and Mrs. Howard sent to invite Master and Miss
+Cartwright, and Master Bennet and his sister, to spend the next day
+with her.
+
+"In those days little misses did not wear muslin or linen frocks,
+which, when they are dirtied, may easily be washed and made clean
+again; but they wore stuff, silk, and satin slips, with lace or gauze
+ruffles, and bibs, and aprons, and little round caps with artificial
+flowers. Children were then taught to be very careful never to dirty
+their best clothes, and to fold them up very smooth when they pulled
+them off.
+
+"When Mrs. Bennet received Mrs. Howard's invitation for her children,
+she called them to her, and said:
+
+"'My dears, you are to go to-morrow to see Mrs. Howard; and I have been
+told that she has by her some very pretty toys, which she means to give
+away to those children who please her best. You have seen the gilt
+coach-and-four which she gave last year to Miss Cartwright, and the
+little watch which Master Cartwright received from her last Christmas;
+and why should not you also have some of these fine toys? Only try to
+please the old lady to-morrow, and I dare say she will give you some;
+for I am sure you are quite as good as Master and Miss Cartwright,
+though you are not quite so sly.'
+
+"'Oh!' said Master Bennet, 'I should like to get the toys, if it was
+only to triumph over Master Cartwright. But what must we do to please
+Mrs. Howard?'
+
+"'Why,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'when your best things are put on to-morrow,
+you must take care not to rumple or soil them before you appear in Mrs.
+Howard's presence; and when you come into her parlour you must stop at
+the door, and bow low and curtsey; and when you are desired to sit
+down, you must sit still till dinner is brought in; and when dinner is
+ready, you must stand up and say grace before you eat; and you must
+take whatever is offered you, without saying, "I will have this," and
+"I will have that," as you do at home.'
+
+"Mrs. Bennet gave her children a great many other rules for their
+behaviour in Mrs. Howard's presence, which I have not time to repeat
+now," said Mrs. Goodriche; "all of which Master Jacky and Miss Polly
+promised to remember, for they were very desirous to get the
+playthings.
+
+"And now I will tell you what Mrs. Cartwright said to her children when
+she got Mrs. Howard's invitation. She called them to her, and said:
+
+"'Here, Billy--here, Patty, is a note from Mrs. Howard to invite you to
+spend the day with her to-morrow; and I am glad of it, because I know
+you love to go to Mrs. Howard's, she is so good to all children, and
+has been particularly kind to you. I hear she has some pretty
+playthings by her now to give away; but don't you be greedy of them, my
+dears. You have a variety of playthings, you know--more than most
+children have, and it does not become anyone to be covetous. And
+remember, my dear children, to behave civilly and politely to
+everybody.'
+
+"And now I will tell you how these children behaved. About eleven
+o'clock Mrs. Cartwright had her two children dressed in their best, and
+sent them with the maid-servant to Mrs. Howard's. As they were walking
+quietly over a corn-field, through which they must needs pass, they
+saw Master and Miss Bennet with their servant sitting on a stile at
+the farther end of the field.
+
+"'Oh!' said Miss Patty, 'there are Master and Miss Bennet--on the way,
+I suppose, to Mrs. Howard's. I am sorry we have met with them; I am
+afraid they will get us into some mischief.'
+
+"'Why should you say so?' said Master Cartwright. 'Let us speak of
+things as we may find them.'
+
+"When Master and Miss Cartwright came near the stile, Master Bennet
+called to them:
+
+"'What a long time you have been coming over the field! We have been
+waiting for you this half-hour,' said he. 'Come, now, let us join
+company. I suppose that you are going, as we are, to Mrs. Howard's.'
+
+"Master Cartwright answered civilly, and all the children, with the two
+servants, got over the stile and went down a pretty lane which was
+beyond.
+
+"The children walked on quietly till they came to a duck-pond, partly
+overgrown with weeds, which was at the farther end of the lane. When
+they came near to this, Master Bennet whispered to his sister:
+
+"'I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk slip.'
+
+[Illustration: "_I'll see now if I can't spoil Miss Patty's smart silk
+slip._"--Page 77.]
+
+"'Do, Jack,' answered Miss Polly.
+
+"Master Bennet then, winking at his sister, went up to the pond, and
+pulling up some of the weeds, which were all wet and muddy, he threw
+them at Miss Cartwright's slip, saying, at the same time:
+
+"'There, Miss, there is a present for you.'
+
+"But, as it happened, Miss Cartwright saw the weeds coming, and caught
+them in her hand, and threw them from her. Upon this Master Bennet was
+going to pluck more weeds, but Mr. Cartwright's maid-servant held his
+hands, whilst little Billy and his sister ran forwards to Mrs.
+Howard's house, which was just in sight, as fast as their feet would
+carry them.
+
+"'There, now,' said Miss Polly, 'those spiteful children have gone to
+tell Mrs. Howard what you have done, brother, and we shall not get any
+toys. You are always in mischief, that you are.'
+
+"'I am sure you told me to throw the weeds,' answered Master Bennet.
+
+"'I am sure I did not,' said Miss Polly.
+
+"'But you knew that I was going to do it,' said he.
+
+"'But I did not,' said she.
+
+"'But you did, for I told you,' said he.
+
+"In this manner this brother and sister went on scolding each other
+till they came to Mrs. Howard's gate. There Miss Polly smoothed her
+apron, and Master Jacky combed his hair with his pocket-comb, and they
+walked hand-in-hand into Mrs. Howard's parlour as if nothing had
+happened. They made a low bow and curtsey at the door, as their mamma
+had bidden them; and Mrs. Howard received them very kindly, for Master
+and Miss Cartwright had not mentioned a word of their ill-behaviour on
+the road.
+
+"Besides Master and Miss Cartwright, there were several other children
+sitting in Mrs. Howard's parlour, waiting till dinner should be set on
+the table. My mother was there," said Mrs. Goodriche--"she was then a
+very little girl--and your grandmother and great-uncle, both young
+ones; with many others now dead and gone. In one corner of the parlour
+was a cupboard with glass doors, where Mrs. Howard had placed such of
+those pretty toys (as I before spoke of) which she meant to give away
+in the afternoon. The prettiest of these was the jointed doll, neatly
+dressed in a green satin slip, and gauze apron and bib.
+
+"By the time Master and Miss Bennet had made their bow and curtsey,
+and were seated, Betty came in with the dinner, and Mrs. Howard called
+the children to table. Master and Miss Bennet, seeing the beautiful
+toys before them through the glass doors of the cupboard, did not
+forget to behave themselves well at table; they said grace and ate such
+things as were offered them; and Mrs. Howard, who noticed their good
+behaviour, began to hope that Farmer Bennet's children were becoming
+better.
+
+"After the children had got their dinner, it being a very pleasant
+afternoon, Mrs. Howard gave them leave to play in the garden, and in
+the little croft, where she kept her old horse Crop.
+
+"'But take care, my dears,' she said to the little girls, 'not to soil
+your slips or tear your aprons.'
+
+"The children were much pleased with this permission to play; and after
+they were gone out, Mrs. Howard put on her hood and cloak, and said to
+Betty:
+
+"'I shall drink tea, Betty, in my bower at the end of the grass walk;
+do you bring my little tea-table there, and the strawberries and cream,
+and the cake which you made yesterday; and when we have finished our
+tea, bring those toys which are in the glass cupboard to divide amongst
+the children.'
+
+"'And I think, madam,' said Betty, 'that Master and Miss Bennet will
+gain some of them to-day, for I thought they behaved very well at
+dinner.'
+
+"'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, 'I must say I never saw them behave
+so mannerly as they did at dinner, and if they do but keep it up till
+night, I shall not send them home without some pretty present, I assure
+you.'
+
+"When Mrs. Howard had given her orders to Betty, she took her
+gold-headed stick in her hand, and went down the grass walk to her
+bower. It was a pretty bower, as I have heard my mother say, formed of
+honeysuckles and other creeping shrubs nailed over a framework of lath
+in the old-fashioned way. It stood just at the end of that long green
+walk, and at the corner of the field; so that anyone sitting in the
+bower might see through the lattice-work and foliage of the
+honeysuckles into the field, and hear all that was said. There good
+Mrs. Howard sat knitting (for she prepared stockings for most of the
+poor children in the neighbourhood), whilst her little visitors played
+in the garden and in the field, and Betty came to and fro with the
+tea-table and tea-things.
+
+"Whilst the children were all engaged with their sports in the croft, a
+poor old man, who had been gathering sticks, came by that way, bending
+under the weight of the load. When he appeared, the children ceased
+from their play, and stood looking at him.
+
+"'Poor man!' said Miss Patty Cartwright, 'those sticks are too heavy
+for you to carry. Have you far to go?'
+
+"'No, my pretty miss,' said the old man; 'only a very little way.'
+
+"'I cannot help to carry your sticks,' said Master Cartwright, 'because
+I have my best coat on. I could take off that, to be sure, but then my
+other things would be spoiled; but I have got a penny here, if you
+please to accept it.' So saying, he forced the penny into the poor
+man's hand.
+
+"In the meantime, Master Bennet went behind the old man, and giving the
+sticks a sly pull, the string that tied them together broke, and they
+all came tumbling on the ground. The children screamed, but nobody was
+hurt.
+
+"'Oh, my sticks!' said the poor man; 'the string is broke! What shall I
+do to gather them together again? I have been all day making this
+little faggot.'
+
+"'We will help you,' said Master Cartwright; 'we can gather your
+sticks together without fear of hurting our clothes.'
+
+"So all the little ones set to work (excepting Master and Miss Bennet,
+who stood by laughing), and in a little while they made up the poor
+man's bundle of sticks again, and such as had a penny in their pockets
+gave it him. Miss Patty Cartwright had not a penny, but she had a
+silver sixpence, which she gave to the old man, and ran before him to
+open the gate (which led out of the field), wishing him good-night, and
+curtseying to him as civilly as if he had been the first lord of the
+land.
+
+"Now the children never suspected that Mrs. Howard had heard and seen
+all this, or else Master and Miss Bennet, I am sure, would not have
+behaved as they did. They thought Mrs. Howard was in the parlour, where
+they had left her.
+
+"By this time everything was ready for tea, and the cake set upon the
+table, with the strawberries and cream.
+
+"'And now, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, 'you may call the children; and be
+sure, when tea is over, to bring the toys.'
+
+"Master and Miss Bennet looked as demure when they came in to tea as
+they had done at dinner, and a stranger would have thought them as
+well-behaved children as Master and Miss Cartwright; but children who
+behave well in the sight of their parents, or in company, and rudely or
+impertinently in private, or among servants or their playfellows,
+cannot be called well-bred.
+
+"After the young people had had their tea and cake, and strawberries
+and cream, Betty came with the playthings, and placed them on the table
+before Mrs. Howard. You would, perhaps, like to know what these
+playthings were:--First of all was the jointed doll, dressed, as I
+before said, in a green satin slip, and a gauze bib and apron, and
+round cap, according to the fashion of those days; then there was the
+History of the Bible, with coloured pictures; then came a little chest
+of drawers, for dolls' clothes; a doll's wicker cradle; a bat and ball;
+a red morocco pocket-book; a needle-book; and the History of King
+Pepin, bound and gilt. These beautiful books and toys were placed on
+the table before Mrs. Howard, and the little ones waited in silence to
+see what she would do with them. Mrs. Howard looked first at the
+playthings, and then at the children, and thus she spoke:
+
+"'My dear children, I sent for these pretty toys from the fair, in
+order to encourage you to be good: there is nothing that gives me
+greater pleasure than to see children polite and mannerly, endeavouring
+to please everybody, "in honour preferring one another," as God hath
+commanded us to do. Pride and ill manners, my dear children, are great
+faults; but humility, and a wish to please everyone rather than
+ourselves, make us resemble the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, who did not
+despise the poorest among men. Many persons are polite and
+good-mannered when in company with their betters, because, if they were
+not so, people would have nothing to say to them: but really
+well-behaved persons are courteous and civil, not only when they are
+among their betters, but when they are with servants, or with poor
+people.'
+
+"Then Mrs. Howard took the jointed doll, and the History of the Bible,
+and gave the one to Miss Patty Cartwright, and the other to Master
+Billy, saying:
+
+"'I give you these, my children, because I observed your good manners,
+not only to me, but to the poor old man who passed through the croft
+with his bundle of sticks. To you, Master Bennet, and to you, Miss
+Polly, I shall not give anything; because you showed, by your
+behaviour to the old man, that your good manners were all an outside
+garb, which you put on and off like your Sunday clothes.'
+
+"Then Mrs. Howard gave the rest of the toys among the lesser children,
+commending them for helping the old man to gather his sticks together;
+and thus she dismissed them to their own houses, all of them, except
+Master Jacky and Miss Polly, jumping and skipping for joy."
+
+When Mrs. Goodriche had finished her story, Lucy said:
+
+"What a pretty story that is! I think Master and Miss Cartwright
+deserved those pretty toys--they were nice children: but I did not know
+that having rude manners was so very great a fault."
+
+"If you will think a minute, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "you will
+find that rude manners must be one sign of badness of heart: a person
+who has always a lowly opinion of himself, and proper love for his
+neighbour, will never be guilty of rudeness; it is only when we think
+ourselves better than others, or of more consequence than they are,
+that we venture to be rude. I have heard you say how rude Miss Augusta
+Noble was the last time you were at her house. Now, why was she rude,
+but because she thought herself better than her company? This is pride,
+and a great sin it is."
+
+
+
+
+Sad Story of a Disobedient Child
+
+[Illustration: Looking in the glass, with a candle in her hand]
+
+
+When Mr. Fairchild returned from his walk he found John ready with the
+cart, so, wishing Mrs. Goodriche a good-evening, and thanking her for
+her kindness, they returned home.
+
+The next morning Mr. Fairchild got up early, and went down to the
+village. Breakfast was ready, and Mrs. Fairchild and the children
+waiting at the table, when he came back.
+
+"Get your breakfast, my dear," said he to Mrs. Fairchild; "don't wait
+for me." So saying, he went into his study and shut the door.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild, supposing that he had some letters to write, got her
+breakfast quietly; after which she sent Lucy to ask her father if he
+would not choose any breakfast. When Mr. Fairchild heard Lucy's voice
+at the study-door, he came out, and followed her into the parlour.
+
+When Mrs. Fairchild looked at her husband's face she saw that something
+had grieved him very much. She was frightened, and said:
+
+"My dear, I am sure something is the matter; what is it? Tell me the
+worst at once; pray do!"
+
+"Indeed, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild, "I have heard something this
+morning which has shocked me dreadfully. I was not willing to tell you
+before you had breakfasted. I know what you will feel when you hear
+it."
+
+"Do tell me," said Mrs. Fairchild, turning quite white.
+
+"Poor Augusta Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"What, papa?" said Lucy and Emily and Henry, in one voice.
+
+"She is dead!" exclaimed Mr. Fairchild.
+
+The children turned as pale as their mother; and poor Mrs. Fairchild
+nearly fainted.
+
+"Oh! poor Lady Noble! poor Lady Noble!" said she, as soon as she could
+speak. "Poor Lady Noble!"
+
+Whilst the children were crying over the sad news Mrs. Barker came into
+the parlour. Mrs. Barker was a kind woman, and, as she lived by
+herself, was always at liberty to go amongst her neighbours in times of
+trouble.
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Fairchild," she said, "I know what troubles you: we are all
+in grief through the whole village."
+
+"What was the cause of the poor child's death?" asked Mrs. Fairchild.
+"I never heard that she was ill."
+
+"Ah! Mrs. Fairchild, the manner of her death is the worst part of the
+story, and that which must grieve her parents more than all. You know
+that poor Miss Augusta was always the darling of her mother, who
+brought her up in great pride; and she chose a foolish governess for
+her who had no good influence upon her."
+
+"I never thought much of Miss Beaumont," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"As Miss Augusta was brought up without the fear of God," continued
+Mrs. Barker, "she had, of course, no notion of obedience to her
+parents, further than just trying to please them in their presence; she
+lived in the constant practice of disobeying them, and the governess
+continually concealed her disobedience from Lady Noble. And what is
+the consequence? The poor child has lost her life, and Miss Beaumont is
+turned out of doors in disgrace."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Fairchild, "how did she lose her life through
+disobedience to her parents? Pray tell me, Mrs. Barker."
+
+"The story is so sad I hardly like to tell it you," answered Mrs.
+Barker; "but you must know it sooner or later. Miss Augusta had a
+custom of playing with fire, and carrying candles about, though Lady
+Noble had often warned her of the danger of this habit, and strictly
+charged her governess to prevent it. But it seems that the governess,
+being afraid of offending, had suffered her very often to be guilty of
+this piece of disobedience, without telling Lady Noble. And the night
+before last, when Lady Noble was playing at cards in the drawing-room
+with some visitors, Miss Augusta took a candle off the hall table, and
+carried it upstairs to the governess's room. No one was there, and it
+is supposed that Miss Augusta was looking in the glass with a candle in
+her hand, when the flame caught her dress; but this is not known. Lady
+Noble's maid, who was in the next room, was alarmed by her dreadful
+screams, and, hastening to discover the cause, found poor Augusta in a
+blaze from head to foot. The unhappy young lady was so dreadfully burnt
+that she never spoke afterwards, but died in agonies last night."
+
+When Mrs. Fairchild and the children heard this dreadful story they
+were very much grieved. Mrs. Barker stayed with them all day; and it
+was, indeed, a day of mourning through all the house.
+
+
+
+
+The Two Books
+
+[Illustration: "Please choose a book for me"]
+
+
+It was the time of the Midsummer Fair, and John asked Mr. Fairchild's
+leave to go to the fair.
+
+"You may go, John," said Mr. Fairchild; "and take the horse, and bring
+everything that is wanting in the family."
+
+So John got the horse ready, and set out early in the morning to go to
+the fair; but before he went Emily and Lucy gave him what money they
+had, and begged him to bring them each a book. Emily gave him twopence,
+and Lucy gave him threepence.
+
+"You must please choose a book for me with pictures in it," said Emily.
+
+"I do not care about pictures," said Lucy, "if it is a pretty book. So
+pray don't forget, John."
+
+In the evening, after tea, the children and their father and mother, as
+usual, got ready to take a walk; and the children begged Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild to go with them to meet John. "For John," said Henry, "will
+be coming back now, and will have brought us some pretty books."
+
+So Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild took the road which led towards the town
+where the fair was held, and the children ran before them. It was a
+fine evening. The hedges were full of wild roses, which smelt most
+sweet; and the haymakers were making hay in the fields on each side of
+the road.
+
+"I cannot think where John can be," said Henry. "I thought he would be
+here long before now."
+
+By this time they were come to the brow of a rising ground; and looking
+before them, behold, there was John at a distance! The children all ran
+forward to meet him.
+
+"Where are the books, John? Oh, where are the books?" they all said
+with one voice.
+
+John, who was a very good-natured man, as I have before said, smiled,
+and, stopping his horse, began to feel in his pockets; and soon brought
+out, from among other things, two little gilt books; the largest of
+which he gave to Lucy, and the other to Emily, saying:
+
+"Here is two pennyworth--and here is three pennyworth."
+
+"Indeed, John, you are very good," said the children. "What beautiful
+books!"
+
+"My book," said Emily, "is 'The History of the Orphan Boy,' and there
+are a great many pictures in it: the first is a picture of a
+funeral--that must be the funeral of the poor little boy's papa and
+mamma, I suppose."
+
+"Let me see, let me see," said Henry. "Oh, how pretty! And what's your
+book, Lucy?"
+
+"There are not many pictures in my book," said Lucy; "but there is one
+at the beginning: it is the picture of a little boy reading to
+somebody lying in a bed; and there is a lady sitting by. The name of my
+book is 'The History of Little Henri, or the Good Son.'"
+
+"Oh, that must be very pretty," said Henry.
+
+By this time Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were come up.
+
+"Oh, papa! oh, mamma!" said the little ones, "what beautiful books John
+has brought!"
+
+"Indeed," said Mr. Fairchild, when he had looked at them a little
+while, "they appear to be very nice books, and the pictures in them are
+very pretty."
+
+"Henry shall read them to us, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "whilst
+we sit at work; I should like to hear them very much."
+
+"To-morrow," said Mr. Fairchild, looking at his wife, "we begin to make
+hay in the Primrose Meadow. What do you say? Shall we go after
+breakfast, and take a cold dinner with us, and spend the day under the
+trees at the corner of the meadow? Then we can watch the haymakers, and
+Henry can read the books whilst you and his sisters are sewing."
+
+"Oh, do let us go! do let us go!" said the children; "do, mamma, say
+yes."
+
+"With all my heart, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+The next morning early the children got everything ready to go into the
+Primrose Meadow. They had each of them a little basket, with a lid to
+it, in which they packed up their work and the new books; and, as soon
+as the family had breakfasted, they all set out for the Primrose
+Meadow: Mr. Fairchild, with a book in his pocket for his own reading;
+Mrs. Fairchild, with her work-bag hanging on her arm; Betty, with a
+basket of bread and meat and a cold fruit-pie; and the children with
+their work-baskets and Emily's doll, for the little girls seldom went
+out without their doll. The Primrose Meadow was not a quarter of a mile
+from Mr. Fairchild's house: you had only the corner of a little copse
+to pass through before you were in it. It was called the Primrose
+Meadow because every spring the first primroses in the neighbourhood
+appeared on a sunny bank in that meadow. A little brook of very clear
+water ran through the meadow, rippling over the pebbles; and there were
+many alders growing by the water-side.
+
+The people were very busy making hay in the meadow when Mr. Fairchild
+and his family arrived. Mrs. Fairchild sat down under the shade of a
+large oak-tree which grew in the corner of the coppice, and Lucy and
+Henry, with Emily, placed themselves by her. The little girls pulled
+out their work, and Henry the new books. Mr. Fairchild took his book to
+a little distance, that he might not be disturbed by Henry's reading,
+and he stretched himself upon a green bank.
+
+"Now, mamma," said Henry, "are you ready to hear my story? And have you
+done fidgeting, sisters?" For Lucy and Emily had been bustling to make
+a bed for their doll in the grass with their pocket-handkerchiefs.
+
+"Brother," answered Lucy, "we are quite ready to hear you--read away;
+there is nothing now to disturb you, unless you find fault with the
+little birds who are chirping with all their might in these trees, and
+those bees which are buzzing amongst the flowers in the grass."
+
+"First," said Henry, "look at the picture at the beginning of the
+book--the picture of the funeral going through the churchyard."
+
+"Let me see, brother," said Emily.
+
+"Why, you have seen it several times," said Henry; "and now I want to
+read."
+
+"Still, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you might oblige your sister.
+Good manners and civility make everybody lovely. Have you forgotten
+Mrs. Goodriche's story of Master Bennet?"
+
+Henry immediately got up, and showed his sister the picture, after
+which he sat down again and began to read the story in Emily's book.
+
+[Illustration: "_Henry reads the story._"--Page 91.]
+
+
+
+
+The History of the Orphan Boy
+
+[Illustration: Marten behaved well at breakfast]
+
+
+"In a little flowery valley near Tenterden there lived once a certain
+farmer who had a wife and one little boy, whose name was Marten. The
+farmer and his wife were people who feared God and loved their
+neighbours, and though they were not rich, they were contented. In the
+same parish lived two gentlemen, named Squire Broom and Squire Blake,
+as the country people called them. Squire Broom was a man who feared
+God; but Squire Blake was one of those men who cared for nothing beyond
+the things of this world. He was a very rich man, and was considered by
+the neighbours to be good-tempered. His lady kept a plentiful house,
+and was glad to see anyone who came. They had no children, and, as they
+had been married many years, it was thought they never would have any.
+Squire Broom was not so rich as Squire Blake, and, though a very worthy
+man, was not of such pleasing manners, so that many people did not like
+him, though in times of distress he was one of the kindest friends in
+the world. Squire Broom had a very large family, which he brought up in
+an orderly, pious manner; but some of the neighbours did not fail to
+find fault with him for being too strict with his children.
+
+"When little Marten was about three years of age his father was killed
+as he was going to Tenterden market by a fall from his horse. This was
+so great a grief to his mother, who loved her husband very dearly, that
+she fell immediately into a bad state of health; and though she lived
+as much as two years after her husband, yet she was all that time a
+dying woman. There was nothing in the thoughts of death which made this
+poor woman unhappy at any time, excepting when she considered that she
+must leave her little Marten to strangers; and this grieved her the
+more because little Marten was a very tender child, and had always been
+so from his birth.
+
+"It happened a few weeks before her death, as little Marten's mother
+was lying on her couch, that one Mrs. Short, who lived in Tenterden,
+and spent her time in gossiping from house to house, came bustling into
+the room where Marten's mother lay.
+
+"'I am come to tell you,' said she, 'that Squire Blake's lady will be
+here just now.'
+
+"'It is some time since I have seen Mrs. Blake,' said Marten's mother;
+'but it is kind of her to visit me in my trouble.'
+
+"Whilst she was speaking Mr. Blake's carriage came up to the door, and
+Mrs. Blake stepped out. She came into the parlour in a very free and
+friendly manner, and, taking Marten's mother by the hand, she said she
+was very sorry to see her looking so ill.
+
+"'Indeed,' said the sick woman, 'I am very ill, dear madam, and I think
+that I cannot live longer than a few weeks; but God's will be done! I
+have no trouble in leaving this world but on account of little Marten;
+yet I know that God will take care of him, and that I ought not to be
+troubled on his account.'
+
+"Mrs. Blake then answered:
+
+"'As you have begun to speak upon the subject, I will tell you what
+particularly brought me here to-day.'
+
+"She then told her that, as she and Mr. Blake had a large fortune and
+no family, they were willing to take little Marten at her death and
+provide for him as their own. This was a very great and kind offer, and
+most people would have accepted it with joy; but the pious mother
+recollected that Mr. Blake was one who declared himself to be without
+religion; and she could not think of leaving her little boy to such a
+man. Accordingly she thanked Mrs. Blake for her kind offer--for a very
+kind offer it was--and said that she should feel obliged to her till
+her dying moment.
+
+"'But,' added she, 'I cannot accept of your friendship for my little
+boy, as I have a very dear Friend who would be disobliged if I did so.'
+
+"Mrs. Blake turned red, and was offended; for she had never once
+thought it possible that Marten's mother should refuse her offer; and
+Mrs. Short lifted up her hands and eyes, and looked as if she thought
+the poor sick woman little better than a fool.
+
+"'Well,' said Mrs. Blake, 'I am surprised, I must confess. However, you
+must know your own affairs best; but this I must say, that I think
+Marten may live long enough without having such another offer.'
+
+"'And I must say that you are standing in the child's way,' said Mrs.
+Short. 'Why, Mr. Blake can do ten times more for the child than his
+father could have done, had he lived a hundred years; and I think it
+very ungrateful and foolish in you to make such a return for Mr. and
+Mrs. Blake's kindness.'
+
+"'And pray,' said Mrs. Blake, 'who is this dear Friend who would be so
+much disobliged by your allowing us to take the boy?'
+
+"'I suppose it is Squire Broom,' said Mrs. Short; 'for who else can it
+be?'
+
+"'Yes,' said Mrs. Blake, 'I have no doubt it is, for Mr. Broom never
+loved my husband. But,' added she, looking at Marten's mother, 'you do
+very wrong if you think Mr. Broom could do as much for the child (even
+if he were willing) as my husband. Mr. Broom is not rich, and he has a
+great many children; whereas Mr. Blake has a very handsome fortune, and
+no near relation in the world. However, as you have once refused, I do
+not think I would take the boy now if you were to ask me.'
+
+"'I am very sorry,' answered Marten's mother, 'to appear unthankful to
+you; and perhaps, as I am a dying woman, I ought to tell you the true
+reason of my refusing your offer, though it may make you angry. I do
+not doubt but that you would be kind to little Marten, and I know that
+you have more to give him than his father could have had.'
+
+"She then, in a very delicate manner, hinted at Mr. Blake's irreligious
+opinions, and acknowledged that it was on the account of these that she
+had refused his protection for her son.
+
+"'The Lord Jesus Christ,' added she, 'is the dear Friend I spoke of, my
+dear madam, and the One I am afraid to offend by accepting Mr. Blake's
+offer. You are welcome to tell Mr. Blake all I say.'
+
+"Mrs. Blake made no answer, but got up, and, wishing Marten's mother
+and Mrs. Short a good-morning, went away very much offended.
+
+"When Mrs. Short was left with the sick woman she failed not to speak
+her mind to her, and that very plainly, by telling her that she
+considered her little better than a fool for what she had done.
+
+"Marten's mother answered: 'I am willing to be counted a fool for
+Christ's sake.'
+
+"The next day Marten's mother sent for Squire Broom; and when she had
+told him all that had passed between herself and Mrs. Blake, she asked
+him if he would take charge of poor little Marten when she was dead,
+and also of what little money she might leave behind her; and see that
+the child was put to a good school. Squire Broom promised that he would
+be a friend to the boy to the best of his power, and Marten's mother
+was sure that he would do what he promised, for he was a good man. And
+now, not to make our story too long, I must tell you that Marten's
+mother grew weaker and weaker, and about three weeks after she had had
+this conversation with Mrs. Blake she was found one morning dead in her
+bed; and it was supposed she died without pain, as Susan, the maid, who
+slept in the same room, had not heard her move or utter a sigh. She was
+buried in Tenterden churchyard, and Squire Broom, as he had promised,
+took charge of all her affairs.
+
+"And now, after having done with little Marten's good mother, I shall
+give you the history of the little boy himself, from the day when he
+was awoke and found his poor mother dead; and you shall judge whether
+God heard his mother's prayer, and whether He took care of the poor
+little orphan.
+
+"Marten's mother was buried on Saturday evening. On Sunday little
+Marten went and stood by his mother's grave, and no one but Susan could
+persuade him to come away. On Monday morning Squire Broom came in a
+one-horse chaise to take him to school at Ashford. The master of the
+school at that time was a conscientious man but Squire Broom did not
+know that he was so severe in the management of children as he proved
+to be.
+
+"Little Marten cried very much when he was put into the one-horse
+chaise with Squire Broom.
+
+"'Oh, let me stay with Susan! let me live with Susan!' he said.
+
+"'What!' said Squire Broom, 'and never learn to read? You must go to
+school to learn to read, and other things a man should know.'
+
+"'Susan shall teach me to read,' said little Marten.
+
+"Squire Broom promised him that he should come back in the summer, and
+see Susan, and little Marten tried to stop crying.
+
+"When little Marten got to Ashford school he was turned into a large
+stone hall, where about fifty boys were playing; he had never seen so
+many boys before, and he was frightened, and he crept into a corner.
+They all got round him, and asked him a great many questions, which
+frightened him more; and he began to cry and call for Susan. This set
+the boys a-laughing, and they began to pull him about and tease him.
+
+"Little Marten was a pretty child; he was very fair, and had beautiful
+blue eyes and red lips, and his dark brown hair curled all over his
+head; but he had always been very tender in his health; and the
+kickings and thumpings and beatings he got amongst the boys, instead of
+making him hardy, made him the more sickly and drooping.
+
+"The boys used to rise very early, and, after they had been an hour in
+school, they played in the churchyard (for the schoolroom stands in the
+churchyard) till the bell rang to call them to breakfast. In the
+schoolroom there was only one fireplace, and the lesser boys could
+never get near it, so that little Marten used to be so numbed with cold
+in the mornings (for winter was coming) that he could scarcely hold
+his book; and his feet and hands became so swelled with chilblains
+that, when the other boys went out to play, he could only creep after
+them. He was so stupefied with cold that he could not learn; he even
+forgot his letters, though he had known them all when his mother was
+alive; and, in consequence, he got several floggings. When his mother
+was living he was a cheerful little fellow, full of play, and quick in
+learning; but now he became dull and cast down, and he refused to eat;
+and he would cry and fret if anyone did but touch him. His poor little
+feet and hands were sore and bleeding with cold; so that he was afraid
+anyone should come near to touch him.
+
+"As the winter advanced it became colder and colder, and little Marten
+got a very bad cough, and grew very thin. Several people remarked to
+the schoolmaster, 'Little Marten is not well; he gets very thin.' 'Oh,
+he will be better,' the master would answer, 'when he is more used to
+us. Many children, when they first come to school, pine after home; but
+what can I do for him? I must not make any difference between him and
+the other boys.'
+
+"One morning in the beginning of December, when the boys were playing
+in the churchyard before breakfast, little Marten, not being able to
+run, or scarcely to walk, by reason of his chilblains, came creeping
+after them; his lips were blue and cold, and his cheeks white. He
+looked about for some place where he might be sheltered a little from
+the cold wind; and at length he ventured to creep into the porch of an
+old house, which stood on one side of the churchyard. The door of the
+house was open a little way, and Marten peeped in: he saw within a
+small neat kitchen, where was a bright fire; an elderly maid-servant
+was preparing breakfast before the fire; the tea-kettle was boiling;
+and the toast-and-butter and muffins stood ready to be carried into the
+parlour. A large old cat slept before the fire; and in one corner of
+the kitchen was a parrot upon a stand.
+
+"Whilst Marten was peeping in, and longing for a bit of
+toast-and-butter, a little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown,
+wearing a mob-cap and long ruffles, came into the kitchen by the inner
+door. She first spoke to the parrot, then stroked the cat; and then,
+turning towards the porch-door, she said (speaking to the maid):
+
+[Illustration: "_A little old lady, dressed in a gray silk gown, came
+into the kitchen._"--Page 101.]
+
+"'Hannah, why do you leave the door open? The wind comes in very cold.'
+So saying, she was going to push the door to, when she saw poor little
+Marten. She observed his black coat, his little bleeding hands, and his
+pale face, and she felt very sorry for him. 'What little fellow are
+you?' she said, as she held the door in her hand. 'Where do you come
+from, and what do you want at my door?'
+
+"'My name is Marten,' he answered, 'and I am very cold.'
+
+"'Do you belong to the school, my dear?' said she.
+
+"'Yes, ma'am,' he answered; 'my mother is dead, and I am very cold.'
+
+"'Poor little creature!' said the old lady, whose name was Lovel. 'Do
+you hear what he says, Hannah? His mother is dead, and he is very cold!
+Do, Hannah, run over to the school-house, and ask the master if he will
+give this little boy leave to stay and breakfast with me.'
+
+"Hannah set down a tea-cup which she was wiping, and looking at Marten:
+
+"'Poor young creature!' she said. 'It is a pity that such a babe as
+this should be in a public school. Come in, little one, whilst I run
+over to your master and ask leave for you to stay a little with my
+mistress.'
+
+"Hannah soon returned with the master's leave, and poor little Marten
+went gladly upstairs into Mrs. Lovel's parlour. There Mrs. Lovel took
+off his wet shoes and damp stockings, and hung them to the fire, while
+she rubbed his little numbed feet till they were warm. In the meantime
+Hannah brought up the tea-things and toast-and-butter, and set all
+things in order upon the round table.
+
+"'You are very good,' said little Marten to Mrs. Lovel; 'I will come
+and see you every day.'
+
+"'You shall come as often as you please,' said Mrs. Lovel, 'if you are
+a good little boy.'
+
+"'Then I will come at breakfast-time, and at dinner-time, and at
+supper-time,' said Marten.
+
+"Mrs. Lovel smiled and looked at Hannah, who was bringing up the
+cream-pot, followed by the cat. Puss took her place very gravely at one
+corner of the table, without touching anything.
+
+"'Is that your cat, ma'am?' said Marten.
+
+"'Yes,' said Mrs. Lovel; 'and see how well she behaves: she never asks
+for anything, but waits till she is served. Do you think you can behave
+as well?'
+
+"'I will try, ma'am,' said Marten.
+
+"Mrs. Lovel then bade Marten fetch himself a chair, and they both sat
+down to breakfast. Marten behaved so well at breakfast that Mrs. Lovel
+invited him to come to her at dinner-time, and said she would send
+Hannah to his master for leave. She then put on his dry shoes and
+stockings; and as the bell rang, she sent him over to school. When
+school broke up at twelve o'clock, she sent Hannah again for him; and
+he came running upstairs, full of joy.
+
+"'This is a half-holiday, ma'am,' he said, 'and I may stay with you
+till bed-time: and I will come again to breakfast in the morning.'
+
+"'Very well,' said Mrs. Lovel; 'but if you come here so often you must
+do everything I bid you, and everything which Hannah bids you.'
+
+"'The same as I did to my poor mother, and to Susan?' said Marten.
+
+"'Yes, my dear,' said Mrs. Lovel.
+
+"'Then I will, ma'am,' said Marten.
+
+"So Marten sat down to dinner with Mrs. Lovel; and at dinner he told
+her all he knew of himself and his mother; and after dinner, when she
+gave him leave, he went down to the kitchen to visit Hannah, and to
+talk to the parrot, and to look about him till tea-time. At tea-time he
+came up again; and after tea Mrs. Lovel brought out a large Bible full
+of pictures, and told him one or two stories out of the Bible, showing
+him the pictures. At night Hannah carried him home, and he went warm
+and comfortable to bed.
+
+"Mrs. Lovel grew every day fonder of little Marten; and, as the little
+boy promised, he went to Mrs. Lovel's at breakfast, dinner, and supper;
+and Mrs. Lovel took the same care of him as his mother would have done,
+had she been living. She took charge of his clothes, mending them when
+they wanted it; prepared warm and soft woollen stockings for him,
+procured him a great-coat to wear in school, and got him some thick
+shoes to play in. She also would see that he learned his lessons well
+every day, to carry up to his master: she then practised him in reading
+out of school hours, so that it was surprising how quickly he now got
+on with his books. But the best of all was, that Mrs. Lovel from day to
+day gave such holy teaching to little Marten as was best adapted to
+make him a good man in after-life; and God blessed her teaching, and
+the boy soon became all that she could desire.
+
+"A little before Christmas, Squire Broom came over to Ashford to see
+little Marten, and determined in his own mind, if he saw the child
+unwell, or not happy, to take him home and bring him up amongst his own
+children; for Mrs. Broom had said that she thought little Marten almost
+too young to be at a public school, without a friend near him. Marten
+was standing in Mrs. Lovel's parlour window, which looked into the
+churchyard, when he saw Squire Broom's one-horse chaise draw up to the
+school-house door. Without speaking a word, he ran downstairs, and
+across the churchyard; and, taking Squire Broom's hand, as he stepped
+out of the chaise:
+
+"'I have got another mother, sir,' he said, 'a very good mother; and I
+love her with all my heart; and her name is Lovel; and you must come to
+see her.'
+
+"'Why, my little man,' said Squire Broom, 'you look very well, and
+quite fat.'
+
+"When Squire Broom heard from the master what a kind friend Marten had
+found, and was told by all his friends in Ashford what a worthy woman
+Mrs. Lovel was (everybody in Ashford knew Mrs. Lovel's good character),
+he was very much pleased on little Marten's account, and said his poor
+mother's prayers were now answered.
+
+"Little Marten could not be contented till he had brought Squire Broom
+to see Mrs. Lovel, and to drink tea with her. During this visit, Mrs.
+Lovel asked Mr. Broom if Marten might spend his Christmas holidays with
+her; and from that time the little boy spent all his holidays with Mrs.
+Lovel. In the summer holidays she often took him to a farmhouse in the
+country, where she had lodgings; and there he had the pleasure of
+seeing the haymaking, and hop-gathering, and all the country work, and
+of running about the fields. Once or twice she took him to Tenterden to
+see his old friends, particularly Susan, who lived with her mother in
+Tenterden.
+
+"Marten became a fine boy; and as he grew in stature he grew in grace.
+He was very fond of reading; and soon he became one of the best
+scholars of his age in the school. As Mrs. Lovel got older, her eyes
+became dim; and then Marten read to her, and managed her accounts, and
+was in all things as a dutiful son to her.
+
+"Marten continued with Mrs. Lovel till it was time he should leave
+school; and as he wished to become a clergyman, in order that he might
+spend his life in the service of God, Mrs. Lovel paid for his going to
+the University.
+
+"When Marten had been the proper time at the University, he was
+ordained a clergyman; and he then returned to Mrs. Lovel, and soon
+afterwards he got a living in a pretty village in Kent. There he went
+to reside; and Mrs. Lovel, who was now become very old indeed, lived
+with him. He was as kind to her, and to Hannah, as if he had been their
+own child: and, indeed, it was but his duty to be so: he did everything
+to make their last years happy, and their deaths easy. Mrs. Lovel left
+all she had, when she died, to Marten; so that he was enabled to live
+in great comfort. Some time after Mrs. Lovel's death, he married Squire
+Broom's youngest daughter, who made him a kind and good wife, and
+helped him to bring up their children well. Susan, who was now an
+elderly woman, took the place of Hannah when Hannah died, and never
+left her master till she herself died of old age."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By this time it was one o'clock; and the haymakers left off their work,
+and sat down in a row, by the brook-side, to eat their dinner. Mr.
+Fairchild called to his children from the place where he was lying, at
+a little distance, saying:
+
+"My dears, I begin to feel hungry. Lucy and Emily, see what Betty
+brought in the basket this morning; and you, Henry, go to the brook,
+and bring some water."
+
+So Henry took an empty pitcher out of the basket, and ran gaily down to
+the brook to fetch some water, whilst Lucy and Emily spread a clean
+napkin on the grass, on which they placed the knives and forks and
+plates, with the loaf and cheese, and the fruit-pie, and a bottle of
+beer for their papa; for Betty was gone back to the house; and when
+they had said grace, they dined: after which the children went to play
+in the coppice and amongst the hay, for a little while. When they had
+played as much as their mamma thought fit, they came back, and sat down
+to work, as they had done in the morning, whilst Henry read the story
+in Lucy's book.
+
+[Illustration: Marten goes to school]
+
+
+
+
+The History of Little Henri; or, The Good Son
+
+[Illustration: Henri stood at the window]
+
+
+"Every person who lives in England has heard of France. A small arm of
+the sea parts this country from France; but though a person may pass
+from England to France in a few hours, yet there is a great difference
+in the manners and customs of the French and English. A few years ago
+the French were governed by a king who had so much power, that, if he
+did not like any person, he could condemn him to be shut up for life at
+his pleasure, and nobody dared to inquire after him. The religion of
+the French was, and still is, Roman Catholic.
+
+"About one hundred and fifty years ago, there lived in France a certain
+great man, called the Baron of Bellemont: he was a proud man, and very
+rich; and his castle stood in one of the beautiful valleys of the
+Pyrenees, not far from the dwelling-places of those holy people the
+Waldenses."
+
+"What are Waldenses, mamma?" said Henry.
+
+"Why, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "many hundred years ago, when
+many of the nations of Europe were very wicked, a certain set of
+persons retired from the sight of the rest of mankind, and hid
+themselves in valleys amongst hills, where they led innocent and holy
+lives. These people, in some places, were called _Waldenses_; in
+others, _Valdenses_; and some were called _The poor Men of Lyons_,
+because there was a city called Lyons near their dwelling-places."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The Baron de Bellemont," continued Henry, reading again, "lived in a
+castle not far from the valley of the Waldenses. He had one daughter,
+of the name of Adelaide, who was very beautiful; and as she was to have
+much of her father's riches at his death, everybody flattered and
+seemed to admire her, and many rich and great men in France sought to
+marry her. The Baron had also a poor niece living with him, named
+Maria. Maria was not handsome, and she was poor; therefore, nobody who
+came to the castle took any notice of her: and her cousin Adelaide
+treated her more like a servant than a relation. Maria had been nursed
+among the Waldenses, and had learned, with God's blessing, all the holy
+doctrines of these people from her nurse.
+
+"When Adelaide and Maria were about twenty years of age, they were both
+married. Adelaide was married to the young Marquis de Roseville, one of
+the handsomest and richest men in France, and went to live in Paris
+with her husband, where she was introduced to the court of the king,
+and lived amongst the greatest and gayest people in France."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where is Paris, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"You know, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild, "that London is the
+chief town of England, and the residence of the Queen: in like manner,
+Paris is the chief town of France, and the Emperor of France's palace
+is in Paris."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Maria's husband," continued Henry, "was one of the pastors of the
+Waldenses, of the name of Claude: he lived in a small and neat cottage
+in a beautiful valley; he was a holy young man, and all his time and
+thoughts were given up to teaching his people and serving his God.
+Maria was much happier in her little cottage with her kind husband than
+she had been in the castle of the Baron. She kept her house clean, and
+assisted her husband in dressing their little garden and taking care of
+a few goats, which afforded them abundance of milk.
+
+"When the Marchioness of Roseville had been married twelve months she
+brought the Marquis a son, to whom his parents gave the name of
+Theodore. This child was so beautiful that he was spoken of in Paris as
+a wonder, and his parents, who were very proud and vain before, became
+more and more so. All the Marchioness's love seemed to be fixed upon
+this child, so that when, at the end of two years more, she had a
+second son born, she showed no affection whatever for him, although he
+was a lovely infant, not less beautiful than his brother, and of a
+tender and delicate constitution.
+
+"When this little infant, who was called Henri, was little more than
+two months old, the Marquis and Marchioness undertook a journey to the
+Castle of Bellemont, to visit the old Baron, bringing their two sons
+with them. The fatigue of the journey was almost too much for poor
+little Henri, who, when he arrived at his grandfather's castle, was so
+ill that it was supposed he could not live; but his mother, having no
+love but for the eldest child, did not appear to be in the least
+troubled by Henri's sickness.
+
+"As soon as Maria heard of her cousin's arrival at Bellemont she
+hastened over to see her, though she did not expect to be very kindly
+received. Maria, by this time, had two children, the youngest of which
+was more than a year old, and a very healthy child. When this kind
+woman saw poor little Henri, and found that his parents did not love
+him, she begged her cousin to allow her to take the poor infant to her
+cottage in the valleys, where she promised to take great care of him,
+and to be as a tender mother to him. The Marchioness was glad to be
+freed from the charge of the sick child, and Maria was equally glad to
+have the poor baby to comfort. Accordingly, she took the little Henri
+home with her, and he was brought up amongst her own children.
+
+"When the Marquis and Marchioness had remained a while at the Castle of
+Bellemont, they returned with their favourite Theodore to Paris; and
+there they delivered themselves up to all the vicious habits of that
+dissipated place. The Marchioness never stayed at home a single day,
+but spent her whole time in visiting, dancing, and playing at cards,
+and going to public gardens, plays, and musical entertainments. She
+painted her face, and dressed herself in every kind of rich and vain
+ornament, and tried to set herself off for admiration; but she had
+little regard for her husband, and never thought of God. She was bold
+in her manners, fond of herself, and hardhearted to everybody else. The
+only person for whom she seemed to care was her son Theodore; for as
+for little Henri, she seemed to have forgotten that she had such a
+child; but she delighted in seeing her handsome Theodore well dressed,
+and encouraged him to prattle before company, and to show himself off
+in public places, even when he was but an infant. She employed the
+most famous artists in Paris to draw his picture; she hired
+dancing-masters to teach him to carry himself well, and music-masters
+to teach him to sing and play; and sometimes, when he was to go out
+with her, she herself arranged his glossy hair, in order that he might
+look the handsomer. She employed many servants to attend upon him, and
+commanded them never to contradict him, but to do everything to please
+him. As she continued to lead this life she became every year more and
+more bold, and more hardened in wickedness; so that, from beginning to
+be careless about God, she proceeded in time to mock at religion. Nor
+was the Marquis any better than his wife; he was proud and quarrelsome,
+and loved no one but himself. He spent all his time amongst a set of
+wicked young men of his own rank; they sat up all night drinking and
+swearing and playing at cards for large sums of money.
+
+"In this manner they went on till Theodore was as much as fifteen years
+of age. In the meantime the old Baron had died and left all his money
+to his daughter; but the Marquis and Marchioness were none the better
+for all the riches left them by the Baron, for they became more and
+more wasteful, and more and more wicked.
+
+"About this time the King, who was a very wicked man, began to talk of
+driving the Waldenses out of their pleasant valleys, or forcing them to
+become Roman Catholics. He consulted the great men in Paris about it;
+and they gave it as their opinion that it would be right either to make
+them become Roman Catholics, or drive them out of the country. The
+Marquis, among the rest, gave his opinion against the Waldenses; never
+considering that he had a relation amongst them, and that his little
+son Henri was at that very time living with them.
+
+"Whilst these things were being talked of in the King's palace,
+Theodore was seized with a violent fever, and before anything could be
+done for him, or his father or mother had any time for consideration,
+the poor boy died. The Marchioness was like a distracted woman when
+Theodore died; she screamed and tore her hair, and the Marquis, to
+drive away the thoughts of his grief, went more and more into company,
+drinking and playing at cards. When the grief of the Marquis and
+Marchioness for the loss of their beautiful Theodore was a little
+abated, they began to turn their thoughts towards their son Henri, and
+they resolved to send for him. Accordingly, the Marquis sent a trusty
+servant to the valley of Piedmont, to bring Henri to Paris. The servant
+carried a letter from the Marquis to the Pastor Claude, thanking him
+for his kind attention to the child, and requesting him to send him
+immediately to Paris. The servant also carried a handsome sum of money
+as a present from the Marquis to Claude; which Claude, however, would
+not take.
+
+"Whilst all these things of which I have been telling you were
+happening at Paris, little Henri had been growing up in the humble yet
+pleasant cottage of Maria and the pious Claude. During the first years
+of his infancy he had been very delicate and tender, and no one would
+have reared him who had not loved him as tenderly as Maria had done;
+but from the time that she first saw him in the Castle of Bellemont,
+she had loved him with all the love of the tenderest mother.
+
+"Henri was very beautiful, though always pale, never having very strong
+health. He always had the greatest fear of doing anything which might
+displease God; he was gentle and humble to all around him, and to his
+little cousins, the sons of Claude, he was most affectionate and mild.
+When they were old enough, these three little boys used to go with the
+Pastor Claude when he went to visit his poor people in their little
+cottages among the valleys; and heard him read and pray with them. Thus
+they acquired, when very young, such a knowledge of God, and of the
+Holy Bible, as might have put to shame many older people.
+
+"Many of the cottages which Claude and his little boys used to visit
+were placed in spots of ground so beautiful that they would have
+reminded you of the Garden of Eden; some in deep and shady valleys,
+where the brooks of clear water ran murmuring among groves of trees and
+over mossy banks; some on high lawns on the sides of the mountains,
+where the eagles and mountain birds found shelter in the lofty forest
+trees; some of these cottages stood on the brows of rugged rocks, which
+jutted out from the side of the hills, on spots so steep and high that
+Claude's own little stout boys could scarcely climb them; and Claude
+was often obliged to carry little Henri up these steeps in his arms. In
+these different situations were flowers of various colours and of
+various kinds, and many beautiful trees, besides birds innumerable and
+wild animals of various sorts. Claude knew the names and natures of all
+these; and he often passed the time, as he walked, in teaching these
+things to his children. Neither did he neglect, as they got older, to
+give them such instructions as they could get from books. He taught his
+little boys first to read French, and afterwards he made them well
+acquainted with Latin and the history of ancient times, particularly
+the history of such holy people as have lived and died in the service
+of God--the saints and martyrs of old days. He also taught his little
+boys to write; and they could sing sweetly many of the old hymns and
+psalms which from time immemorial had been practised among the
+Waldenses.
+
+"Claude's own little sons were obliged to do many homely household
+jobs, to help their mother. They used to fetch the goats to the cottage
+door, along the hill-side path, and milk them and feed them; they used
+to weed the garden, and often to sweep the house and make up the fire.
+In all these things little Henri was as forward as the rest, though the
+son of one of the greatest men in France. But though this family were
+obliged to labour at the lowest work, yet they practised towards each
+other the most courteous and gentle manners.
+
+"In this manner Henri was brought up amongst the Waldenses till he was
+more than twelve years of age, at which time the servant came from his
+father, the Marquis, to bring him to Paris.
+
+"When the Marquis's letter arrived, all the little family in the Pastor
+Claude's house were full of grief.
+
+"'You must go, my dear child,' said the Pastor; 'you must go, my
+beloved Henri, for the Marquis is your father, and you must obey him;
+but oh! my heart aches when I think of the hard trials and temptations
+to which you will be exposed in the wicked world.'
+
+"'Yet I have confidence,' said Maria, wiping away her tears; 'I have
+prayed for this boy--this my dear boy; I have prayed for him a thousand
+and a thousand times; and I know that he is given to us: this our child
+will not be lost; I know he will not. He will be able to do all things
+well, Christ strengthening him.'
+
+"'Oh, Maria!' said the Pastor Claude, 'your faith puts me to shame; why
+should I doubt the goodness of God any more than you do?'
+
+"In the meantime Henri's grief was so great that, for some hours after
+the servant came, he could not speak. He looked on his dear father and
+mother, as he always called Claude and Maria, and on their two boys,
+who were like brothers to him; he looked on the cottage where he had
+spent so many happy days, and the woods and valleys and mountains,
+saying, beyond this he knew nothing; and he wished that he had been
+born Claude and Maria's child, and that he might be allowed to spend
+all his life, as Claude had done, in that delightful valley.
+
+"Whilst Maria, with many tears, was preparing things for Henri's
+journey, the Pastor took the opportunity of talking privately to him,
+and giving him some advice which he hoped might be useful to him. He
+took the child by the hand, and leading him into a solitary path above
+the cottage, where they could walk unseen and unheard, he explained to
+him the dangerous situation into which he was about to enter; he told
+him, with as much tenderness as possible, what his father's and his
+mother's characters were; that they never knew the fear of God, and
+that they acted as most persons do who are rich and powerful, and who
+are not led by Divine grace; and he pointed out to him how he ought to
+behave to his parents, telling him that he must not be led away, but
+must persevere in well-doing. These, with many other things, the good
+Claude besought Henri always to have in remembrance, as he hoped to see
+his Redeemer in the land which is very far off; and he ended by giving
+him a little Bible, in a small velvet bag, which he had received from
+his own father, and which he had been accustomed to carry in his pocket
+in all his visits to his poor people. In these days, Bibles are so
+common that every little boy and girl may have one; but this was not
+the case in former days; Bibles were very scarce and very difficult to
+get; and this Henri knew, and therefore he knew how to value this
+present.
+
+"It would only trouble you were I to describe the sorrow of Claude's
+family when, the next morning, Henri, according to his father's orders,
+was dressed in a rich suit of clothes, and set upon a horse, which was
+to carry him from among the mountains to the Castle of Bellemont, where
+the Marquis's carriage waited for him. Henri could not speak as the
+horses went down the valley, but the tears fell fast down his cheeks;
+every tree and every cottage which he passed, every pathway winding
+from the highroad among the hills, reminded him of some sweet walk
+taken with Claude and his sons, or with his dear foster-mother. As the
+road passed under one of the cottages which stood on the brow of a
+hill, Henri heard the notes of one of those sweet hymns which Maria had
+been accustomed to sing to him when he was a very little boy, and which
+she had afterwards taught him to sing himself. Henri's heart at that
+moment was ready to burst with grief, and though the servant was close
+to him, yet he broke out in these words:
+
+"'Farewell, farewell, sweet and happy home! Farewell, lovely, lovely
+hills! Farewell, beloved friends! I shall never, never see you again!'
+
+"'Do not give way to grief, sir,' said the servant; 'you are going to
+be a great man; you will see all the fine things in Paris, and be
+brought before the King.'
+
+"The servant then gave him a long account of the grandeur and pleasures
+of Paris; but Henri did not hear one word he said, for he was listening
+to the last faint sounds of the hymn, as they became more and more
+distant.
+
+"Nothing particular happened to Henri on his journey; and at the end of
+several days he arrived at the gates of his father's grand house at
+Paris. The Marchioness that evening (as was common with her) gave a
+ball and supper to a number of friends; and on this occasion the house
+was lighted up, and set off with all manner of ornaments. The company
+was just come, and the music beginning to play, when Henri was brought
+into the hall. As soon as it was known who was come, the servants ran
+to tell the Marquis and Marchioness, and they ran into the hall to
+receive their son. The beauty of Henri, and his lovely mild look, could
+not but please and delight his parents, and they said to each other, as
+they kissed him and embraced him:
+
+"'How could we live so long a stranger to this charming child?'
+
+"His mother had expected that her son would have had an awkward and low
+appearance; she was, therefore, greatly surprised at his courteous and
+polite manners, which delighted her as much as his beauty.
+
+"All that evening Henri remained silent, modest, and serious, and as
+soon as his parents would give him leave, he asked to go to bed. He was
+shown into a room richly furnished, and so large that the whole of
+Claude's little cottage would have gone into it. The servant who
+attended him would have undressed him; but he begged to be left alone,
+saying he had been used to dress and undress himself. As soon as the
+servant was gone, he took out his Bible and read a chapter; after
+which, kneeling down, he prayed his Almighty Father to take care of him
+now, in this time of temptation, when he feared he might be drawn aside
+to forget his God.
+
+"The young son of the Marquis de Roseville did not awake early, having
+been much tired with his journey. When he had dressed, he was taken to
+breakfast in his mother's dressing-room; she was alone, as the Marquis
+had gone out after the ball the night before, and was not returned. The
+Marchioness kissed Henri, and made him sit down by her, showing him
+every proof of her love; nevertheless, everything he saw and heard made
+him wish himself back again in the cottage amongst the hills. He could
+perceive by the daylight what he had not found out the night before,
+that his mother was painted white and red, and that she had a bold and
+fretful look, which made her large dark eyes quite terrible to him.
+
+"Whilst the Marchioness and Henri sat at breakfast, she asked him a
+great many questions about his education and manner of life among the
+mountains. He did not hide anything from her, but told her that he
+never intended to become a Roman Catholic. She answered that there was
+time enough yet before he need trouble himself about religion.
+
+"'You have a long life before you, Henri,' she said, 'and have many
+pleasures to enjoy; it will be well enough to become devout when you
+are near death.'
+
+"'May not death be near now?' said Henri, looking very serious. 'Had my
+brother Theodore any greater reason to expect death than I have? And
+yet he was suddenly called away.'
+
+"The Marchioness looked grave for a moment; then smiled, and said:
+
+"'Oh Henri, Henri, how laughable it is to hear one at your age speaking
+so seriously! Yet everything sounds prettily out of your mouth,' she
+added, kissing him, 'for you are a charming boy. But come,' she said,
+'I will be dressed; and we will go out and pay visits, and I will show
+you something of this fine city.'
+
+"When the Marchioness was dressed, she and Henri went out in the
+carriage; and, returning at dinner-time, they found the Marquis at
+home: he looked pale and fatigued, but was pleased to embrace his son,
+with whom he seemed better and better satisfied as he saw more of him.
+
+"The next day a tutor was appointed for Henri: he was a Roman Catholic
+priest; but although he bore the character of a clergyman, he seemed to
+have no thought of religion; he took great pains to teach Henri such
+things as he thought would please his father and mother, and make him
+appear clever before his fellow-creatures, but he had no desire to make
+him a good man. Besides this tutor, Henri had masters to teach him
+music and dancing and drawing, and all such things as were wont to be
+taught to the children of the great men at that time in France. Thus
+Henri's mornings were employed by attending on his masters; and his
+mother often in the evening took him out to pay visits, and to balls
+and public amusements. He was introduced several times to the King, and
+became acquainted with all the nobility in Paris. But, amongst all
+these worldly pleasures and enjoyments, God still held the heart of
+Henri; so that he took no delight in all these fine things, and would
+have preferred Claude's cottage to all the splendours of Paris.
+
+"When Henri had been in Paris about six months, it happened that one
+day his father went to the King's palace to pay his court: so it was,
+that something had vexed the King that day, and he did not receive the
+Marquis so cordially as he had been used to do. This affronted the
+Marquis so much (for he was a very proud man) that from that time he
+gave himself up altogether to abusing the King, and contriving how to
+do him mischief; and he invited to his house all the people of
+consequence in Paris who were discontented with the King: so that his
+house was filled with bad people, who were always contriving mischief
+against the King. These people used to meet almost every evening to sup
+at the Marquis's; and you would be shocked if I were to repeat to you
+the language which they used, and how they used to rail against their
+King. On these occasions they drank abundance of wine; after which they
+used to play at cards for large sums of money; and the Marquis and
+Marchioness not being so clever in play as some others of the party,
+lost a great deal of money; so that what with their extravagance, and
+what with the money they lost at cards, they had almost wasted all they
+possessed, and were in debt to everybody who supplied them with
+anything.
+
+"Poor Henri, although so young, understood very well the wicked way in
+which his father and mother went on; and though he did not dare to
+speak to his father about the manner of life he led, yet he spoke
+several times to his mother. Sometimes the Marchioness would laugh at
+Henri when he talked to her in this way; and sometimes she would be
+quite angry, and tell him that he was meddling with things he could not
+understand.
+
+"Abusing the King, and forming schemes against the Government, are
+called treason. It was not long before the treasonable practices of the
+Marquis, and the bad company he kept, were made known to the King, who,
+one night, without giving notice to anyone, sent certain persons with a
+guard to seize the Marquis, and convey him to a strong castle in a very
+distant part of France, where he was to be confined for life; at the
+same time the King gave orders to seize all the Marquis's property for
+his own use. It was one night in the spring, just after the Marquis's
+wicked companions had taken their leave, that the persons sent by the
+King rushed into the Marquis's house, and making him a prisoner in the
+name of the King, forced him into a carriage, with his wife and son,
+scarcely giving them time to gather together a little linen, and a few
+other necessary things, to take with them: amongst these, Henri did not
+forget his little Bible, and an old Book of Martyrs, which he had
+bought at a bookstall a few days before.
+
+"The Marquis and his family, well guarded, were hurried away so fast
+that before the dawn of morning they were some miles from Paris. The
+Marquis then asked the person who rode by the carriage where they were
+taking him: they answered that his plots against the King had been
+found out, and that he was going to be put into a place where it would
+be out of his power to execute any of his mischievous purposes. On
+hearing this, the Marquis broke out into a violent rage, abusing the
+King, and calling him every vile name he could think of; after which he
+became sullen, and continued so to the end of his journey. The
+Marchioness cried almost without ceasing, calling herself the most
+miserable of women, and wishing she had never seen the Marquis.
+
+"At the end of several days, towards the evening, they entered into a
+deep road between two high hills, which were so near each other that
+from one hill the cottages and little gardens and sheepfolds, with the
+cows and sheep feeding, might be plainly seen on the other. As they
+went on farther, they saw a little village on the right hand among some
+trees; and, above the village, a large old castle, with high walls and
+towers, and an immense gateway with an iron gate.
+
+"When the Marquis saw the castle he groaned, for he supposed that this
+was the place in which he was to be confined; and the Marchioness broke
+out afresh in crying and lamenting herself; but Henri said not one
+word. The carriage took the road straight to the castle, and the guard
+kept close, as if they were afraid the Marquis should strive to get
+away. They passed through the little village, and then saw the great
+gate of the castle right before them higher up the hill. It was almost
+dusk before the carriage stopped at the castle gate; and the guards
+called to the porter (that is, the man who has the care of the gate) to
+open the gate, and call the Governor of the castle. When the porter
+opened the gate, the guard took the Marquis out of the carriage, and,
+all gathering close round him, led him through the gates into the
+outer court of the castle, which was surrounded by dark high buildings;
+Henri and his mother following. From thence he went through another
+gate, and up a number of stone steps, till they came to an immense
+hall, so big that it looked like a large old church; from the roof of
+this hall hung several lamps, which were burning, for it was now quite
+dark. There the Governor of the castle, a respectable-looking old
+officer, with a band of soldiers, met the Marquis, and received him
+into his charge. He spoke civilly to the Marquis, and kindly to Henri
+and his mother.
+
+"'Do not afflict yourself, madam,' he said: 'I am the King's servant,
+and must obey the King's orders; but if I find that you and the Marquis
+are patient under your punishment, I shall make you as comfortable as
+my duty to the King will allow.'
+
+"To this kind speech the Marchioness only answered by breaking out like
+a child, crying afresh; and the Marquis was so sullen that he would not
+speak at all; but Henri, running up and kissing the hand of the old
+gentleman, said:
+
+"'Oh, sir, God will reward you for your kindness to my poor father and
+mother: you must pardon them if they are not able to speak.'
+
+"'You are a fine boy,' said the old gentleman; 'and it is a pity that
+at your age you should share your parents' punishment, and be shut up
+in this place.'
+
+"'Where my father and mother are,' answered Henri, 'I shall be best
+contented, sir; I do not wish to be parted from them.'
+
+"The Governor looked pleased with Henri; and giving his orders to his
+soldiers, they took up a lamp, and led the poor Marquis to the room
+where he was to be shut up for the remainder of his life. They led him
+through many large rooms, and up several flights of stone steps, till
+they came to the door of a gallery, at which a sentinel stood; the
+sentinel opened the door, and the Marquis was led along the gallery to
+a second door, which was barred with iron bars. Whilst the soldiers
+were unbarring this door, the Marquis groaned, and wished he had never
+been born; and the poor Marchioness was obliged to lean upon Henri, or
+she would have fallen to the ground. When the iron-barred door was
+opened, the guard told the Marquis and his family to walk forward: 'For
+this,' said they, 'is your room.' Accordingly, the Marquis and his wife
+and Henri went on into the room, whilst the guard shut and barred the
+door behind them. One little lamp, hanging from the top of the room,
+but high above their reach (for the rooms in those old castles are in
+general very lofty), was all the light they had: by this light they
+could just distinguish a large grated window, a fireplace, a table,
+some chairs, and two beds placed in different corners of the room.
+However, the unhappy family offered not to go near the beds; but the
+Marquis and Marchioness, throwing themselves on the ground, began to
+rail at each other and at the King. Poor Henri endeavoured to soothe
+and comfort them; but they pushed him from them, like people in a
+frenzy, saying, 'Go, go! Would to God you were in your grave with your
+brother Theodore!' Henri withdrew to a distance, and, kneeling down in
+a dark part of the room, he began to pray; till, being quite weary, he
+fell fast asleep on the floor.
+
+"When Henri awoke, he was surprised to find it was daylight; he sat up
+and looked around him on the prison-room; it was a large and airy room,
+receiving light from a window strongly grated with iron. In two corners
+of the room were two old-fashioned but clean and comfortable-looking
+beds; opposite the beds were a chimney-piece and hearth for burning
+wood; and several old-fashioned chairs and a table stood against the
+wall; there were also in the room two doors, which led into small
+closets.
+
+"Henri's poor father and mother had fallen asleep on the floor, after
+having wearied themselves with their violent grief; the Marquis had
+made a pillow of his cloak, and the Marchioness of a small bundle which
+she had brought in her hand out of the carriage. Henri looked at them
+till his eyes were full of tears; they looked pale and sorrowful even
+in their sleep. He got up gently, for fear of disturbing his poor
+parents, and went to the window: the air from the opposite hill blew
+sweet and fresh in at the casement; it reminded Henri of the air which
+he used to breathe in Claude's cottage. The window was exceedingly high
+from the court of the castle; so that the little village below, and the
+opposite green hill, with its cottages and flocks and herds, were all
+to be seen from thence above the walls of the court.
+
+"'What reason have we to be thankful!' said Henri; 'I was afraid my
+poor father might have been shut down in a dismal vault, without light
+and fresh air. If the Governor of the castle will but allow us to stay
+here, and give us only bread and water, we may be happy; and I have my
+little Bible, and my Book of Martyrs.'
+
+"Whilst Henri stood at the window, he heard someone unbar the door; and
+an old man came in with a basket, in which was a comfortable breakfast.
+
+"'I have orders,' said he, 'from my lord the Governor, to give you
+everything which is convenient.'
+
+"'God bless your lord,' said Henri; and he begged the old man to return
+his thanks to him.
+
+"'I shall come again presently,' said the old man, 'and bring you the
+things which you brought with you in the carriage.'
+
+"'Your lord the Governor is a kind man,' said Henri.
+
+"'Yes,' said the old man, 'and if your noble father will but make
+himself contented, and not try to get away, he will have nothing to
+complain of here, and you would do well to tell him so. My young
+gentleman, excuse an old man for giving his advice.'
+
+"Henri went up to the old man, and, taking his hand, thanked him for
+his kindness.
+
+"When the old man was gone, Henri, full of joy and thankfulness, began
+to take the things out of the basket, and to set them in order upon the
+table; and now Henri found the use of having been brought up to wait
+upon himself and upon others; he soon set out the little table in the
+neatest way, and set a chair for each of his parents; and all this so
+quietly that the poor Marquis and Marchioness did not wake till he had
+done. The Marchioness first opened her eyes, and looked round her.
+Henri ran to her, and kissing her, said:
+
+"'Dear mother, see what comforts we have still got! We are fallen into
+good hands; look around on this room, how light, how airy, and how
+pleasant it is!'
+
+"Henri then told her all the kindness of the Governor, and showed her
+the breakfast prepared for them; but she still looked sullen and
+unthankful, and began to blame the Marquis, as he lay asleep, as the
+cause of all her affliction.
+
+"'Oh, mother, dear mother!' cried Henri. 'Look at my poor father; how
+pale he looks, and how he sighs in his sleep! You once loved him, dear
+mother; oh now, love him again, and comfort him in his trouble!'
+
+"In this manner Henri talked to his mother, till she broke out into
+tears, and putting her arms round his neck:
+
+"'My child, my Henri,' she said, 'you are too good for me!'
+
+"Yet still Henri could not persuade her to take any breakfast; she
+placed herself in a chair in a corner of the room, and, leaning her
+head upon her hands, continued crying without ceasing.
+
+"When the Marquis awoke, Henri endeavoured to comfort him, as he had
+done his mother; the Marquis embraced him, and called him his beloved
+child and only comfort, but he complained that he was ill, and put his
+hand to his head. Henri brought him a cup of coffee, which he made him
+drink; and the old man coming in with the linen and other things which
+had been brought from Paris, they put some clean linen on the Marquis,
+and the old man and Henri assisted him to bed. The Marquis continued to
+get worse, and before night he was in a violent fever. This fever
+continued many days, and brought him very near to death. Whilst this
+illness lasted Henri never left him, and the Governor of the castle not
+only provided him with everything he wanted, but brought a doctor from
+the village to see him.
+
+"For many days the poor Marquis did not seem to know anything that
+passed, or to know where he was, or who was with him, but seemed in
+great horror of mind, expressing great dread of death; but when his
+fever left him, though he was very weak, he recovered his recollection,
+and expressed himself very thankful for the kindness he had received,
+particularly from the Governor and the doctor. As to Henri, he kissed
+him often, called him his darling son, and could not bear him to leave
+him for a moment. It was lovely to see how Henri watched by his poor
+father, and how he talked to him, sometimes soothing and comforting,
+and sometimes giving him descriptions of the happy manner in which he
+used to live in Claude's cottage.
+
+"'And all this happiness, dear father,' he would say, 'came from our
+being religious; for all the ways of religion are ways of pleasantness,
+and all her paths are peace.'
+
+"'Claude and Maria,' said the Marquis one day to Henri, 'were very good
+people; they always led innocent lives; they had no sins to trouble
+their consciences, therefore they were happy; but I have many evil
+actions to remember, Henri.'
+
+"'Oh, dear father,' said Henri, 'do let me read the Bible to you. I
+have got a little Bible, and I will, if you please, read a little to
+you every day, as you can bear it.'
+
+"The Marquis did not refuse to hear Henri read; accordingly, every day
+his good son used to read certain portions of Scripture to his father.
+The Marquis, having nothing else to take his attention--no cards, no
+wine, no gay companions--and being still confined by weakness to his
+bed, often lay for many hours listening to the Word of God. At first,
+as he afterwards owned, he had no pleasure in it, and would rather have
+avoided hearing it; but how could he refuse his darling son, when he
+begged him to hear a little--only a little more?
+
+"In the meantime, the Marchioness appeared sullen, proud, and
+unforgiving: she seldom came near her husband, but sometimes spent the
+day in crying and lamenting herself, and sometimes in looking over the
+few things which she had brought with her from Paris. The Governor of
+the castle, seeing her so miserable, told her that he had no orders
+from the King to keep her or her son in confinement, and that she had
+liberty to depart when she pleased, and to take her son with her; but
+Henri would not hear of leaving his poor father, and used all his
+endeavours to persuade his mother to stay.
+
+"When the Marquis was first able to leave his bed, and sit in his chair
+opposite the window, Henri was very happy: he brought him clean linen,
+and helped him to dress; and when he had led him to his chair, he set a
+table before him, and arranged upon it, as neatly as he could, the
+little dinner which the old man had brought in the basket, with a
+bottle of weak but pleasant wine which the Governor had sent him.
+
+"'Dear father,' said Henri, 'you begin to look well; you look even
+better than you did when you were at Paris. Oh! if you could but learn
+to love God, you might now be happier than ever you were in all your
+life; and we might all be happy if my poor mother would but come to you
+and love you as she used to do. Oh! come, dear mother,' added Henri,
+going up to her and taking her hand; 'come to my father, come to my
+poor father! You loved him once, love him again.'
+
+"In this manner Henri begged and entreated his mother to be reconciled
+to his father. The Marchioness at first seemed obstinate; but at last
+she was overcome, and running to her husband, put her arms round his
+neck, and kissed him affectionately; whilst he, embracing her, called
+her his beloved wife, his own Adelaide. This little family then sat
+down to their dinner, enjoying the lovely prospect, and the soft and
+delightful breezes from the opposite hill; and after they had dined,
+Henri sang to his parents some of the sweet hymns he had learnt when
+living in the valleys of Piedmont.
+
+"Henri had done a great work; he had made peace between his father and
+his mother; and now he saw, with great delight, his poor father gaining
+strength daily; and though sometimes full of sorrow, yet upon the
+whole composed, and never breaking out in impatient words.
+
+"About this time the Governor of the castle invited Henri to dine with
+him. Henri was much pleased with the Governor, who received him kindly,
+and took him to walk with him in the village.
+
+"'I am glad to hear,' said the Governor, 'that your father is more
+contented than he was at first; and you may tell him from me, that if
+he will endeavour to make himself easy, and not attempt to escape, I
+will always do everything in my power to make him comfortable; and now,
+if you can tell me what I can send him which you think will please him
+or your mother, if in my power you shall have it.'
+
+"'Oh, sir!' said Henri, 'God has certainly put it into your heart to be
+kind to my dear father.'
+
+"Henri then mentioned that he had heard his father say that in his
+younger days he had been very fond of drawing; and he begged of the
+Governor a small box of colours, and some paper; and also needles and
+thread and linen for his mother. With what joy did Henri run back to
+his father and mother, in the evening, with these things! They received
+him as if he had been a long while absent from them, instead of only a
+few hours.
+
+"What Henri had brought afforded great amusement to the poor Marquis
+and Marchioness; the Marquis passing his time in drawing, and the
+Marchioness with her needlework, whilst Henri continually read and
+talked to them, giving them accounts of the holy and happy lives which
+the Waldenses led, and the sweet lessons which Claude used to give to
+his children.
+
+"In this manner the summer passed away, and the winter came. The
+Governor then, finding that the Marquis was content, and made no
+attempt to escape, allowed the prisoners abundance of wood for fire,
+and candles, with every convenience which could make the winter pass
+away pleasantly; and he often came himself and passed an evening with
+them, ordering his supper into the room. The Governor was an agreeable
+man, and had travelled into many countries, which he used to describe
+to Henri. When he paid his evening visit it was a day of festivity to
+the Marquis and his little family; and when he did not come, their
+evenings passed pleasantly, whilst Henri read the Bible aloud and the
+Marchioness sewed. In the meantime the work of grace seemed to advance
+in the heart of the Marquis, and he who but a year ago was proud,
+insolent, self-indulgent, boasting, blasphemous, was now humble,
+gentle, polite, in honour preferring all men. His behaviour to the
+Marchioness was quite changed: he was tender and affectionate towards
+her, bearing with patience many of her little fretful ways.
+
+"In this manner the winter passed away, and the spring arrived, at
+which time the Governor gave the Marquis permission, attended by a
+guard, to walk with his family every day upon the roof of the castle.
+There the Marquis enjoyed the fresh air and the beautiful prospect, and
+he said that all the pleasures of Paris were not to be compared to his
+happiness on such occasions.
+
+"At the end of the fourth year of the Marquis's confinement the
+small-pox broke out in the village, and the infection was brought to
+the castle. The Marquis and Henri were both seized by the dreadful
+disease, and both died in consequence. After their deaths, the poor
+Marchioness, hearing that the Waldenses had been driven from their
+happy valleys by the King, removed into a small house in the village
+near, where the Governor supported and protected her till her dying
+day."
+
+
+
+
+A Story of Besetting Sins
+
+[Illustration: "Do you remember anything of the sermon?"]
+
+
+One Sunday, soon after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, Mrs.
+Fairchild, having a bad cold, could not go to church with the rest of
+the family. When the children were come home from church, Mrs.
+Fairchild asked Lucy what the sermon was about.
+
+"Mamma," said Lucy, taking her Bible out of her little basket, "I will
+show you the text; it is in Heb. xii. 1: 'Let us lay aside every
+weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us.'"
+
+When Mrs. Fairchild had looked at the text, she said:
+
+"And do you remember anything more of the sermon, Lucy?"
+
+"Indeed, mamma," said Lucy, "I did not understand the sermon; it was
+all about besetting sins. What are they, mamma?"
+
+"I will explain," said Mrs. Fairchild. "Though our hearts are all
+naturally sinful, yet every man is not inclined alike to every kind of
+sin. One man, perhaps, is inclined to covetousness, another to swear
+and use bad words, another to lie and deceive, another to be angry and
+cruel; and that sin which a man feels himself most inclined to is
+called his besetting sin."
+
+"Oh! now I know what besetting sins mean," answered Lucy. "Has
+everybody a besetting sin, mamma?"
+
+"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild; "we all have, although we do
+not all know what they are."
+
+"Have I a besetting sin, mamma?" said Lucy.
+
+"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"What is it, mamma?" asked Lucy.
+
+"Can you not tell what fault you fall into oftener than any other?"
+said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+Lucy considered a little, and then answered she did not know.
+
+"I think, my dear," said Mrs. Fairchild, "although it is hard to judge
+any other person's heart, that your besetting sin is envy. I think I
+have often observed this fault in you. You were envious about Emily's
+doll, and about poor Miss Augusta Noble's fine house and clothes and
+servants, and about the muslin and ribbon I gave to Emily one day, and
+the strawberry your papa gave to Henry; and I have often thought you
+showed envy on other occasions."
+
+Lucy looked grave when her mother spoke, and the tears came into her
+eyes.
+
+"Mamma," she said, "I am a naughty girl; my heart is full of envy at
+times; but I pray that God would take this sin out of my heart; and I
+hate myself for it--you don't know how much, mamma."
+
+"My dear child," said Mrs. Fairchild, kissing Lucy, "if you really
+grieve for your sins, and call in faith upon the Lord Jesus Christ, you
+will surely in God's good time be set free from them. And now, my
+dear," added Mrs. Fairchild, "you know what is meant by the sin which
+doth so easily beset us; and you understand that every person has some
+one besetting sin."
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Lucy, "and you have told me what my own besetting
+sin is, and I feel that you have found out the right one. But mamma,
+you said that many people do not know their own besetting sins."
+
+"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild. "Careless people do not know
+their hearts, and have no idea of their besetting sins; indeed, they
+would laugh if you were to speak of such things before them."
+
+Whilst Mrs. Fairchild was speaking these last words, they heard the
+dinner-bell ring; so they broke off their talk and went downstairs.
+Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild and all the family were sitting at
+dinner, they saw through the window a man on horseback, carrying a
+large basket, ride up to the door. Mrs. Fairchild sent John out to see
+who this person was; and John presently returned with a letter, and a
+haunch of venison packed in a basket.
+
+"Sir," said John, "the man says that he is one of Mr. Crosbie of
+London's servants; and that he has brought you a letter with his
+master's compliments, and also a haunch of venison."
+
+"Mr. Crosbie's servant!" said Mr. Fairchild, taking the letter and
+reading it aloud as follows:
+
+     "DEAR MR. FAIRCHILD,
+
+     "I and my wife, and my sister Miss Crosbie, and my daughter Betsy,
+     have been taking a journey for our health this summer. We left
+     London three months ago, and have been down as far as Yorkshire.
+     We are now returning home, and have turned a little out of our way
+     to see you, as it is as much as twelve years since we met; so you
+     may look for us, no accident happening, to-morrow, a little before
+     two. We hope to dine with you, and to go on in the evening to the
+     next town, for our time is short. I have sent a fine haunch of
+     venison which I bought yesterday from the innkeeper where we
+     slept; it will be just fit for dressing to-morrow; so I shall be
+     obliged to Mrs. Fairchild to order her cook to roast it by two
+     o'clock, which is my dinner-hour. My man Thomas, who brings this
+     letter, will tell the cook how I like to have my venison dressed;
+     and he brings a pot of currant jelly, to make sauce, in case you
+     should have none by you; though I dare say this precaution is not
+     necessary, as Mrs. Fairchild, no doubt, has all these things by
+     her. I am not particular about my eating; but I should be obliged
+     to you if you would have the venison ready by two o'clock, and let
+     Thomas direct your cook. My wife and sister and daughter Betsy
+     send best compliments to our old friend, Mrs. Fairchild, and
+     hoping we shall meet in health to-morrow,
+
+  "I remain, dear Mr. Fairchild,
+    "Your old friend,
+      "OBADIAH CROSBIE.
+
+     "P.S.--You will find the haunch excellent; we dined upon the neck
+     yesterday, and it was the best I ever tasted."
+
+When Mr. Fairchild had finished the letter, he smiled, and said:
+
+"I shall be very glad to see our old friends, but I am sorry poor Mr.
+Crosbie still thinks so much about eating. It always was his besetting
+sin, and it seems to have grown stronger upon him as he has got older."
+
+"Who is Mr. Crosbie, papa?" said Lucy.
+
+"Mr. Crosbie, my dear," said Mr. Fairchild, "lives in London. He has a
+large fortune which he got in trade. He has given up business some
+years, and now lives upon his fortune. When your mamma and I were in
+London, twelve years ago, we were at Mr. Crosbie's house, where we
+were very kindly treated; therefore we must do the best we can to
+receive Mr. and Mrs. Crosbie kindly, and to make them as comfortable as
+possible."
+
+When John went to church that same evening, Mr. Fairchild desired him
+to tell nurse to come the next day to help Betty, for nurse was a very
+good cook; and the next morning Mrs. Fairchild prepared everything to
+receive Mr. and Mrs. Crosbie; and Mr. Fairchild invited Mr. Somers, the
+clergyman of the parish, to meet them at dinner. When the clock struck
+one, Mrs. Fairchild dressed herself and the children, and then went
+into a little tea-room, the window of which opened upon a small grass
+plot, surrounded by rose-bushes and other flowering shrubs. Mr. Somers
+came in a little before two, and sat with Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+When the clock struck two, Mr. Crosbie's family were not come, and Mr.
+Fairchild sent Henry to the garden gate to look if he could see the
+carriage at a distance. When Henry returned he said that he could see
+the carriage, but it was still a good way off.
+
+"I am afraid the venison will be over-roasted," said Mrs. Fairchild,
+smiling.
+
+Henry soon after went to the gate, and got there just in time to open
+it wide for Mr. Crosbie's carriage. Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild ran out to
+receive their friends.
+
+"I am glad to see you once again," said Mr. Crosbie, as he stepped out
+of the coach, followed by Mrs. Crosbie, Miss Crosbie, Miss Betsy, and
+Mrs. Crosbie's maid.
+
+Mr. Crosbie was a very fat man, with a red face, yet he looked
+good-humoured, and had, in his younger days, been handsome. Mrs.
+Crosbie was a little thin woman, and there was nothing in her
+appearance which pleased Emily and Lucy, though she spoke civilly to
+them. Miss Crosbie was as old as her brother, but she did not look so,
+for her face was painted red and white; and she and Miss Betsy had
+sky-blue hats and tippets, with white feathers, which Lucy and Emily
+thought very beautiful.
+
+"Have you any company, Mrs. Fairchild?" said Miss Crosbie, as Mrs.
+Fairchild was leading them into the parlour.
+
+"Only one gentleman, Mr. Somers, our rector," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"Oh! then I must not appear in this gown! and my hair, too, is all
+rough," said Miss Crosbie; "I must put on another gown; I am quite
+frightful to look at!"
+
+"Indeed," said Mrs. Fairchild, "your dress is very nice; there is no
+need to trouble yourself to alter it."
+
+"Oh, sister," said Mrs. Crosbie, "don't think of changing your dress;
+Mrs. Fairchild's dinner is ready, I dare say."
+
+Miss Crosbie would not be persuaded, but, calling the maid to attend
+her, ran upstairs to change her dress: and Mrs. Fairchild sent Lucy
+after her. The rest of the company then went into the tea-room, where
+they sat round the window, and Mr. Crosbie said:
+
+"What a pretty place you have here, Mr. Fairchild; and a good wife, as
+I well know--and these pretty children! You ought to be a happy man."
+
+"And so I am, thank God," said Mr. Fairchild, "as happy as any man in
+the world."
+
+"I should have been with you an hour ago," said Mr. Crosbie, "that I
+might have walked over your garden before dinner, but for my wife
+there."
+
+"What of your wife there?" said Mrs. Crosbie, turning sharply towards
+him. "Now mind, Mr. Crosbie, if the venison is over-roasted, don't say
+it is my fault."
+
+Mr. Crosbie took out his watch.
+
+"It is now twenty-five minutes past two," said he; "the venison has
+been down at the fire twenty-five minutes longer than it should have
+been. And did you not keep us an hour waiting this morning, at the inn
+where we slept, whilst you quarrelled with the innkeeper and his wife?"
+
+Mrs. Crosbie answered:
+
+"You are always giving people to understand that I am ill-tempered, Mr.
+Crosbie; which I think is very unhandsome of you, Mr. Crosbie. There is
+not another person in the world who thinks me ill-tempered but you. Ask
+Thomas, or my maid, what they know of my temper, and ask your sister,
+who has lived with me long enough."
+
+"Why don't you ask _me_ what I think of it, mamma?" said Miss Betsy,
+pertly.
+
+"Hold your tongue, miss!" said Mrs. Crosbie.
+
+"Must I not speak?" said Miss Betsy in a low voice, but loud enough for
+her mamma to hear her.
+
+When Miss Betsy first came in, Emily admired her very much; for,
+besides the sky-blue hat and feather, she had blue satin shoes, and a
+very large pair of gold earrings; but when she heard her speak so
+boldly to her mother she did not like her so much. By this time John
+came to tell the company that dinner was on the table; and Mr. Crosbie
+got up, saying:
+
+"The venison smells well--exceedingly well."
+
+"But where is Miss Crosbie?" asked Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"Oh, my aunt thought herself not smart enough to show herself before
+Mr. Somers," said Miss Betsy pertly.
+
+"Be silent, miss," said Mrs. Crosbie.
+
+"Don't wait for her, then," said Mr. Crosbie; "let us go in to dinner.
+My sister loves a little finery; she would rather lose her dinner than
+not be dressed smart; I never wait for her at any meal. Come, come!
+Ladies lead the way; I am very hungry."
+
+So Mrs. Fairchild sent Emily to tell Miss Crosbie that dinner was
+ready, and the rest of the company sat down to table.
+
+"Mrs. Crosbie," said Mr. Crosbie, looking at the venison, then at his
+wife, "the venison is too much roasted; I told you it would be so."
+
+"What! finding fault with me again, Mr. Crosbie?" said Mrs. Crosbie.
+"Do you hear Mr. Fairchild finding fault with his wife in this manner?"
+
+"Perhaps the venison is better than you think, Mr. Crosbie," said Mr.
+Somers; "let me help you to some. Mr. Fairchild, I know, is not fond of
+carving."
+
+Mr. Crosbie thanked Mr. Somers; and Mr. Somers had just begun to cut
+the venison, when Mr. Crosbie called out, as if in agony:
+
+"Oh, Mr. Somers, you will spoil the venison! You must not cut it that
+way upon any account. Do put the haunch by me, and let me help myself."
+
+"What confusion you are making at the table, Mr. Crosbie!" said Mrs.
+Crosbie. "You are putting every dish out of its place! Surely Mr.
+Somers knows how to carve as well as you do."
+
+"But papa is afraid Mr. Somers won't give him all the nice bits," said
+Miss Betsy.
+
+"Learn to be silent, miss!" said Mr. Crosbie.
+
+Miss Betsy was going to answer her father, when Miss Crosbie came into
+the room, newly dressed in a very elegant manner. She came smiling in,
+followed by Lucy and Emily, who went to sit at a small table with
+Henry.
+
+"Sister," said Mrs. Crosbie, "where was the need of your dressing
+again? If we had waited for you, the dinner would have been spoiled."
+
+"But we did not wait for Miss Crosbie, so there was no harm done," said
+Mr. Fairchild, smiling.
+
+"My aunt would not lose an opportunity of showing her new-fashioned
+gown for the world!" said Miss Betsy.
+
+"Indeed, niece," answered Miss Crosbie, "I do not know why you should
+say that I am fond of showing my clothes. I wish to be neat and clean,
+but no person cares less than I do about fashions and finery."
+
+"La!" says Miss Betsy, whispering to Mrs. Fairchild "hear my aunt! she
+says she does not care about finery! That's like mamma saying how
+good-natured she is!"
+
+"Fie, fie, Miss Betsy!" said Mrs. Fairchild, speaking low; "you forget
+your respect to your elders."
+
+Miss Betsy coloured, and stared at Mrs. Fairchild. She had not been
+used to be found fault with; for she was spoiled by both her parents;
+and she felt quite angry.
+
+"Indeed!" she said, "I never was thought disrespectful to anyone
+before. Can't I see people's faults? Can't I see that mamma is cross,
+and my aunt fond of fine clothes, and that papa loves eating?"
+
+"Hush! hush!" said Mrs. Fairchild, in a low voice; "your papa and mamma
+will hear you."
+
+"And I don't care if they do," said Miss Betsy: "they know what I
+think."
+
+"What's that you are saying there, Miss Betsy?" said Mr. Crosbie.
+
+"Oh, don't ask, brother," said Miss Crosbie; "I know it is something
+saucy, by my niece's looks."
+
+"And why should you suppose I am saying anything saucy, aunt?" said
+Miss Betsy; "I am sure you are not accustomed to hear me say saucy
+things."
+
+"Miss! Miss! be quiet!" said Mrs. Crosbie; for she was afraid Mr. and
+Mrs. Fairchild would think her daughter ill-behaved.
+
+"What, mamma!" answered Miss Betsy, "am I to sit quietly and hear my
+aunt find fault with me before company--and for being impertinent, too,
+to my elders--as if I were a mere child?"
+
+"Well, well--enough!" said Mr. Crosbie. "What is that pie, Mrs.
+Fairchild, in the middle of the table? I must have some, if you
+please."
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not sorry when dinner was over, and Mrs.
+Crosbie proposed that Mrs. Fairchild should show her the garden.
+Accordingly, the ladies and children got up, and left the gentlemen
+together; for Mr. Crosbie never stirred for some time after dinner.
+When Mrs. Crosbie had got into the garden, and had looked about her,
+she said:
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Fairchild, how happy you are! Such a pretty house and
+garden!--such a kind husband!--such good children!" Then she sighed,
+and gave Mrs. Fairchild to understand that she was not so happy
+herself.
+
+After tea, Mr. Crosbie and his family took their leave, and went off to
+the next inn upon the London road, where they were to sleep; for Mr.
+Crosbie was in haste to be at home, and would not stay, although Mr.
+and Mrs. Fairchild begged that they would--at least till the next day.
+When they were gone, Mr. Fairchild and Henry took a walk towards the
+village with Mr. Somers, whilst the little girls remained at home with
+their mother.
+
+"Dear Lucy," said Mrs. Fairchild, as soon as she was alone with her
+little girls, "do you remember what we were speaking about yesterday,
+before Mr. Crosbie's letter came?"
+
+"Yes, mamma," said Lucy; "we were speaking of besetting sins, and you
+said that everybody has a besetting sin, and you told me what you
+believed mine to be."
+
+"True, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild: "I told you that, without
+the help of the Holy Spirit of God, very few people know what their own
+besetting sins are. You had an opportunity to-day of observing this:
+every individual of our friend Mr. Crosbie's family has a very strong
+besetting sin; Mr. Crosbie loves eating; Mrs. Crosbie is ill-tempered;
+Miss Crosbie is vain, and fond of finery; and Miss Betsy is very pert
+and forward. We can see these faults in them, and they can see them in
+each other; but it is plain they do not see them in themselves. Mr.
+Crosbie said several times that he was not particular about what he ate
+or drank; Mrs. Crosbie said that there was not a person in the world
+who thought her ill-tempered but her husband; Miss Crosbie said that
+nobody in the world cared less for finery than she did; and Miss Betsy
+was quite offended when she was told she was not respectful in her
+manners to her elders."
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Emily; "she said, 'I am not saucy; of all faults,
+sauciness is not one of my faults, I am sure;' and I thought all the
+time she looked as saucy and impertinent as possible."
+
+"And how Mr. Crosbie did eat!" said Lucy; "he ate half the haunch of
+venison! And then he was helped twice to pigeon-pie; and then he ate
+apple-tart and custard; and then----"
+
+"Well, well! you have said enough, Lucy," said Mrs. Fairchild,
+interrupting her. "I do not speak of our poor friends' faults out of
+malice, or for the sake of making a mockery of them; but to show you
+how people may live in the constant practice of one particular sin
+without being at all conscious of it, and perhaps thinking themselves
+very good all the time. We are all quick enough, my dear Emily and
+Lucy, in finding out other people's faults; but, as I said before, we
+are often very blind to our own."
+
+"Mamma," said Lucy, "do you know any prayer about besetting sins?"
+
+"Yes, my dear," answered Mrs. Fairchild; "I have one in my own book of
+prayers; and I will copy it out for you to-morrow morning."
+
+So Mrs. Fairchild broke off her conversation with her little girls, and
+bade them go and play a little before bedtime.
+
+[Illustration: "_Miss Betsy._"--Page 137.]
+
+
+
+
+A Visit to Mary Bush
+
+[Illustration: The children looked at the kittens]
+
+
+Not very long after the death of poor Miss Augusta Noble, a note came
+from Sir Charles and Lady Noble, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild to
+dinner the next day; but not mentioning the children, as they used to
+do when they sent their invitations.
+
+"Poor Lady Noble!" said Mr. Fairchild; "I wish we could give her any
+comfort! but we will certainly go."
+
+The next day, when Sir Charles's carriage came for Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild, they kissed the children, and told them when they had dined,
+they might, if they pleased, go with Betty to see old Mary Bush. Mary
+Bush was one of the old women who lived at the end of the coppice; and,
+being a good woman, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild were not afraid of trusting
+their children with her. The children were very much pleased, and made
+haste to get their dinner; after which Lucy packed up a little tea and
+sugar, which her mamma had given her, in a basket; and the little
+girls, having put on their bonnets and tippets, went into the kitchen
+to see if Betty was ready. Betty was tying up a small loaf and a pot of
+butter in a clean napkin; and she had put some nice cream into a small
+bottle, for which John was cutting a cork.
+
+"Betty, are you ready?" said Henry; "Lucy has got the tea and sugar,
+and Emily has got Miss Dolly, and I have got my hat and stick. So come,
+Betty, come!"
+
+"But who is to milk the cow?" said John, pretending to look grave;
+"Betty must stay to milk the cow at five o'clock."
+
+"No, John!" said the children, all gathering round him; "good John,
+will you be so kind as to milk the cow, and let Betty go?"
+
+"Well, I will see about it," said John, putting the cork into the cream
+bottle.
+
+"There's a good John!" said Emily.
+
+"I love you, John!" said Henry. "And now, Betty, come, make haste
+away."
+
+So the children set out; and they went out across the garden to a
+little wicket-gate which Mr. Fairchild had opened towards the coppice,
+and came into Henry's favourite Sunday walk. The green trees arched
+over their heads; and on each side the pathway was a mossy bank, out of
+which sprang such kind of flowers as love shady places--such as the
+wood anemone and wild vetch: thrushes and blackbirds were singing
+sweetly amongst the branches of the trees.
+
+"This is my walk," said Henry; "and I say it is the prettiest in the
+country."
+
+"No, Henry," said Emily; "it is not so pretty as the walk to the hut at
+the top of the hill: for there you can look all over the coppice, and
+see the birds flying over the tops of the trees."
+
+"Sister," said Lucy, "now you shall carry my basket, and I will have
+the doll a little."
+
+"With all my heart," said Emily.
+
+"Why don't you give Miss to me?" said Henry.
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Emily. "Did I not give her to you one day; and did you
+not hang her upon a tree in the garden, with a bit of string round her
+neck, and say she was a thief?"
+
+"Lucy," said Henry, "let us have a race to that tree which has fallen
+down over the path."
+
+So away they ran; and when they got to the tree they sat down upon the
+trunk until Betty came up with Emily. On one side of the fallen tree
+was a place where the wood had been cut away, and the woodmen had made
+themselves a little hut, which they had now left empty. Round this hut
+were scattered many dry sticks and chips.
+
+"Master Henry," said Betty, "here are some nice sticks: let us gather a
+few together; they will do to make a fire to boil Mary Bush's kettle."
+
+"Oh, yes, Betty," answered the children: and they set to work, and soon
+gathered a great many sticks; and Betty tied them together with a piece
+of packthread which Henry pulled out of his pocket; then Betty took off
+her bonnet, and placed the bundle upon her head. They went on to Mary
+Bush's. The children wanted to help to carry the sticks, but Betty
+would not let them, saying they were too heavy for them.
+
+"But we can carry the bread and butter," said Lucy; so Betty allowed
+them to do it.
+
+When they had walked a little farther, they came in sight of Mary
+Bush's house, down in a kind of little valley or dingle, deeply shaded
+by trees. In the very deepest part of the dingle was a stream of water
+falling from a rock. The light from above fell upon the water as it
+flowed, and made it glitter and shine very beautifully among the shady
+trees. This was the same which took its course through the Primrose
+Meadow, and on towards the village, and so to Brookside Cottage, where
+nurse lived--a clear and beautiful stream as could be.
+
+Mary Bush's cottage was so large, that, after the death of her husband,
+she had let half of it to one Goodman Grey, who lived in it, with his
+old wife Margery, and cultivated the garden, which was a very good one.
+John Trueman's wife was Mary Bush's eldest daughter; and Joan, nurse's
+son's wife, her youngest; and it was said of them that there were not
+two better wives and mothers in the parish: so Mary Bush was very happy
+in her children.
+
+When the children and Betty came up to the cottage, they found Mary
+Bush spinning at the door.
+
+"We are come to drink tea with you, Mary," said Lucy.
+
+"And we have brought bread and butter, and tea and cream with us," said
+Emily.
+
+"And a bundle of sticks," said Henry, "to boil the kettle."
+
+"Welcome, welcome, my little loves," said old Mary, as she got up and
+set her spinning-wheel on one side. "Come in, little dears."
+
+Mary had but one room, and a little pantry, but it was a very neat
+room; there was a bed in one corner, covered with a clean linen quilt;
+there were also a nice oaken dresser, a clock, two arm-chairs, two
+three-legged stools, a small round table, a corner cupboard, and some
+shelves for plates and dishes. The fireplace and all about it were
+always very neat and clean, and in winter you would probably see a
+small bright fire on the hearth.
+
+"How does the cat do?" said Henry, looking about for Mary Bush's
+cat.
+
+"Oh, here she is, Henry!" said Emily, screaming with joy, "in this
+basket under the dresser, with two such beautiful tortoiseshell
+kittens! Do look, Lucy--do look, Henry!"
+
+"Miss Lucy," said old Mary, "would you like to have one of the kittens
+when it is big enough to leave its mother?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes! and thank you, Mary," answered Lucy, "if mamma pleases."
+
+When the children had looked at the kittens and kissed them, they went
+to visit Margery Grey, and to talk to old Goodman Grey, who was working
+in the garden, whilst Betty, in the meantime, and old Mary Bush, set
+out the tea-cups, and set the kettle to boil for tea. When the tea was
+ready, Betty called the children, and they would make Margery Grey come
+and drink tea with them. Henry would have the old man come too.
+
+"No, master," said the old man: "I know my place better."
+
+"Well, then," said Lucy, "I will send you a nice cup of tea, and some
+bread-and-butter, into the garden."
+
+I wish you could have seen them all drinking tea at the door of the
+cottage, round the little table, the two old women sitting in the
+arm-chairs, for Lucy would have them do so, Betty making tea, and the
+three children sitting on stools--and how pleased and happy they were.
+
+[Illustration: "_Drinking tea at the door of the cottage, round the
+little table._"--Page 149.]
+
+
+
+
+Part II
+
+Story of Miss Crosbie's Presents
+
+[Illustration: Miss Crosbie spoke kindly to her]
+
+
+We will begin this history again, by telling what had happened since
+the first part was concluded.
+
+Sir Charles and Lady Noble had left their fine place soon after the
+funeral of their daughter, and it was supposed would never return; for
+the house and park were advertised to be let. After a few months it was
+taken by a family of the name of Darwell, said to be immensely rich:
+this family had an only daughter.
+
+No other changes had taken place; everybody else lived where they did
+in the last part of our history, which is very pleasant, as we may hope
+to see our old friends all again.
+
+Mr. Fairchild had had a few hundred pounds left him by a friend, from
+whom he had expected nothing; on the strength of which he bought a
+plain roomy carriage, which would hold himself and Mrs. Fairchild in
+the front seat, with a child between them, and two children behind.
+The pillion was put aside, and the old horse put in the shafts: and
+though, to be sure, he went but slowly, and not very far at a time, yet
+the whole family found great pleasure in the change.
+
+The winter was past, and the sweet spring was beginning to show itself,
+when that happened which shall be related without delay.
+
+One morning when Henry was with his father in the study, and Lucy and
+Emily were busy with their needles, seated in the parlour window
+together, and alone, they saw a gentleman's carriage stop at the gate,
+and a lady get out. A great number of bandboxes were taken from
+different parts of the carriage by a servant who was attending the
+carriage; and before the little girls could make anything of all these
+wonders, they saw their father first, and then their mother, run out
+and shake hands with the lady, and seem to invite her to come in.
+Henry, too, had gone out after his papa, and had been sent back, as
+they thought, to fetch Betty; for Betty soon appeared, and began, with
+the help of Henry, who seemed to be delighted at this interruption of
+his lessons, to carry the boxes into the house.
+
+Lucy and Emily soon discovered that this lady was the elder Miss
+Crosbie; but they wondered how she had happened to come that day. Miss
+Crosbie had come from London, where she had been for some time, and was
+now so far on her way to visit a friend in the country.
+
+She had come to Mr. Fairchild's door in another friend's carriage, and
+she was come to ask Mr. Fairchild to take her in until the Monday
+morning.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild both assured her that they were most glad to see
+her; expressed a hope that she would stay longer than Monday, and
+showed themselves so kind and hospitable, that Miss Crosbie was quite
+at her ease, and everything was settled about her staying, before Mr.
+Fairchild brought her into the parlour. But there was quite time
+enough, before Miss Crosbie came in, for Lucy and Emily to say many
+things, for which, I am happy to add, they were afterwards very sorry.
+Lucy spoke first.
+
+"What a quantity of boxes she has brought!" she said; "some finery, I
+dare say, in all of them; how silly for such an old person to be fond
+of dress!"
+
+"It is very silly," replied Emily, "and particularly for one so ugly.
+Don't you think Miss Crosbie uncommonly ugly?"
+
+"To be sure I do," she answered; "everybody must: with her little nose,
+and her gray eyes, and her wide mouth."
+
+"And to be so fond of finery after all!" said Emily. "I am sure if I
+was like Miss Crosbie, instead of dressing myself out, I would wear a
+veil and hide my face."
+
+In this way the two little girls kept on chattering; and I fear my
+reader will say that they are not improved since last she heard
+anything of them.
+
+When Miss Crosbie came into the parlour, she kissed them both, and made
+some remarks upon their looks, which showed that she was quite pleased
+with their appearance. Mrs. Fairchild employed them a little time in
+going backwards and forwards to Betty, and helping in many things; for
+when people keep but one maidservant, they must occasionally assist
+her.
+
+When the room was ready for Miss Crosbie, and a fire lighted, and all
+the boxes and packages carried up, Mrs. Fairchild showed the lady to
+her room; and Miss Crosbie, having asked when dinner would be ready,
+said:
+
+"Well, I shall just have time to change my dress."
+
+"Oh, pray do not trouble yourself to dress," said Mrs. Fairchild; "you
+are very nice now, and we are plain people."
+
+"You are very good," answered Miss Crosbie, "but I shall not be
+comfortable in the dress in which I travelled."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild said no more; but having told her little girls, who had
+gone up with her to the visitor's room, to go and make themselves neat
+in their Sunday frocks, she hastened to give some orders, and perhaps
+some help, in the kitchen.
+
+We will not repeat what Lucy and Emily said to each other whilst they
+were in their little room: all that passed was of the same kind, if not
+worse than what they had said in the parlour; one encouraging the
+other, and carrying their ridicule of their mother's visitor farther
+than either of them intended when they began. When the little girls
+were dressed, they went into the best parlour, or tea-room, as their
+mother called it in the old-fashioned way; and there they found a fire
+burning, and everything in order. John was laying the cloth in the next
+room, and Henry soon came to them in his Sunday dress, and soon
+afterwards their father and mother; but Miss Crosbie did not appear
+till dinner was being served up. She came dressed in a muslin gown,
+with a long train, and large full sleeves, tied in several places with
+crimson ribbons; she had her hair frizzed and powdered, and a turban of
+crimson satin on her head. Her dress was quite out of place; but
+persons who are always used to be rather over-dressed are not judges of
+the times and places in which to put on their finery. At the sight of
+her, Lucy and Emily gave each other a look, which seemed to say, "How
+very silly!"
+
+The dinner-time passed off very well. Miss Crosbie had a great deal to
+tell about London and her journey down into the country; and soon after
+dinner the children had leave to go to their play-room. They were not
+in the humour to do much good there: they began with talking nonsense,
+and finished off with getting pettish with each other. Henry said that
+he did not want to hear any more of Miss Crosbie and her finery. Lucy
+called him cross; and Emily said that he was not to hinder them talking
+of what they pleased. They were called to tea about six o'clock, and
+when the tea-things were removed, Miss Crosbie said:
+
+"Now, Mrs. Fairchild, you shall see some of the things which I have
+brought from London; will you come to my room, or shall I send for the
+bandbox down here?"
+
+"Oh, pray," said Mr. Fairchild, "let us have the box down here, that
+Henry and I may see the fine sights also."
+
+"You don't mean to say," answered Miss Crosbie, laughing, "that a
+sensible man like you, Mr. Fairchild, can be amused by the sight of
+specimens of the fashions?"
+
+"I am amused with anything," said Mr. Fairchild, "which entertains my
+family. I make a point of enjoying everything which they do, as far as
+I can."
+
+"Well, then," said Miss Crosbie, "if I had my bandbox here----"
+
+The children all at once offered to fetch it--she explained which they
+were to bring out of the many which had come with her, and in a very
+few minutes they had brought it down and set it on the table. Miss
+Crosbie sent them up again to look in her workbag for her keys, and to
+bring down a small parcel wrapped in brown paper, which was to be found
+in the same bag.
+
+The parcel and the keys soon appeared. Miss Crosbie opened the parcel
+and presented Henry with a neat pocket-book, inside of which were a
+pencil, a leaf of ass's-skin, a penknife, and a pair of scissors.
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am," said Henry, "how good you are!"
+
+And his father and mother joined in the boy's thanks. There was nothing
+on Henry's mind particularly to render that gift bitter to him; he had
+not joined in the ridicule of Miss Crosbie.
+
+She next opened the bandbox, and took out of it two bonnets and two
+tippets of grass-green silk, lined with pale pink satin. There were
+also two neatly plaited lace caps to wear under the bonnets, and waist
+ribbons to suit.
+
+"These, I hope, will please you, my dear Miss Lucy and Miss Emily," she
+said; "I brought them for you, and I trust you will like them."
+
+It was well at the moment that Emily was not struck by this kindness in
+the way that Lucy was. She was one full year younger than her sister,
+and could hardly be supposed to be able to reflect so deeply: she
+therefore _could_ look joyful, _could_ run forwards to kiss Miss
+Crosbie, and was ready almost to dance with delight, when she looked at
+the beautiful things on the table.
+
+Had she not, as it were, pushed herself first, Miss Crosbie must have
+been struck, as Mrs. Fairchild was, with the manner of Lucy: the little
+girl first flushed up to her brow, and all over her neck. She came
+forward to Miss Crosbie but slowly, and with her eyes cast down. She
+stood one moment, and then, throwing her arms round her neck and
+pressing her face against her shoulder, she sobbed deeply.
+
+Miss Crosbie was certainly surprised; she did not expect that her
+present could have made the little girl feel so much. She spoke very
+kindly to her, put her arms round her, kissed her several times, and
+said:
+
+"But, my dear, a bonnet and a tippet are not worthy of such deep
+gratitude; you make me ashamed that I have done so little for you."
+
+"But you are so good, ma'am, so very good!" sobbed Lucy.
+
+Miss Crosbie continued to soothe the little girl, and say kind things
+to her, which only made her seem to feel the more. Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild were certainly surprised, but they took no notice; and after
+a little while Lucy became calm, and the affair passed off, Miss
+Crosbie appearing to be rather pleased at the manner in which her
+present had been received.
+
+Lucy became quite calm after her fit of crying, but her mother observed
+that she sighed deeply once or twice. When eight o'clock came, the
+children, at a hint from their mother, were wishing their friends
+good-night, when Miss Crosbie asked leave for their staying to supper.
+Mrs. Fairchild said:
+
+"Not to-night, if you please, Miss Crosbie, but to-morrow night--we
+will all sup together to-morrow."
+
+Miss Crosbie kissed Lucy affectionately before she left the room, and
+Mrs. Fairchild again saw the tears in the eyes of her little girl, but
+she did not appear to take notice of it.
+
+When Lucy and Emily had got into their own room, Lucy at once gave way
+to her feelings.
+
+"Oh, Emily, Emily!" she said, as she laid her new bonnet and tippet on
+the drawers, "I am so unhappy; I have been so wicked! to think how kind
+Miss Crosbie was to bring those beautiful things for us, and to know
+how I laughed at her, and said cruel things about her, and called her
+ugly! I have been naughtier than you, because I am older, and because,
+at the time I did it, I knew I was wrong; and when I saw those
+beautiful bonnets, I felt as if there had been a thorn put into my
+heart."
+
+"It is odd," said Emily, "that I did not think of it, even when I saw
+you crying."
+
+"If Miss Crosbie had not been so kind," replied Lucy, "I should not
+have cared. I can't forgive myself--I can't forget it!"
+
+Then Lucy cried again, and Emily with her; and they were still weeping
+when sleep came over them. They were leaning back on their pillow;
+Emily had her arm over Lucy, and their cheeks were still wet with
+tears, when their mother came in before she went to bed to look at
+them.
+
+She was again surprised to see their tears, and stood a while looking
+at them, being uneasy to think what could have caused them. They did
+not wake, and she did not like to disturb them; but she went to bed
+rather uneasy, though she hoped that there was no great cause for being
+so; and in the morning all her fears were soon removed, for she heard
+the voices of her little girls before she had quite finished dressing.
+They were knocking at her door, and asking to speak to her. She went to
+them immediately, and Lucy told her at once all that had made them
+unhappy the last evening, telling how they had prayed to be kept from
+such naughtiness again, and saying what pain Miss Crosbie's kindness
+had given them.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild heard all they had to say without interrupting them, but
+her face looked kind and full of pity. When the story was told she put
+her arms round both of them, and kissed them tenderly, and then talked
+to them for some time of the want of kindness and good feeling they had
+shown towards their guest.
+
+"Oh, mamma," said Lucy, "the more you talk the more vexed I am with
+myself. What am I to do? Shall I go and beg Miss Crosbie's pardon?"
+
+"Shall we, mamma?" added Emily.
+
+"No, no, my children," answered Mrs. Fairchild, half smiling. "What!
+would you give the poor lady pain by telling her wherefore you come to
+beg her pardon?"
+
+"No," replied Lucy, thoughtfully, "that will not do, I see."
+
+"But we will not wear our bonnets to-day, mamma," said Emily, "though
+it is so fine."
+
+"She wishes to see you in them," answered their mother; "she must not
+be disappointed."
+
+"Now wipe away your tears, my little girls," she added. "We must try to
+make this day as pleasant as possible to poor Miss Crosbie."
+
+And all went most pleasantly from the time that they met at breakfast
+till they parted after supper; and Miss Crosbie said:
+
+"Well, Mrs. Fairchild, I have certainly had a most delightful day, and
+I wish that I could spend all my Sundays with you as I have done this;
+for, in general, I must confess I do find the Sunday the dullest day of
+all the seven."
+
+"Then, ma'am," said Lucy, "I hope you will come often again;" and Mrs.
+Fairchild joined in the invitation.
+
+
+
+
+A Visit to Mrs. Goodriche
+
+[Illustration: In the summer parlour]
+
+
+Nothing happened for some weeks after Miss Crosbie went away which
+could be put down in this history, because almost every day was like
+another, unless we were to say what lessons the children did, and what
+the doll was dressed in, and what walks were taken. The spring came on,
+and a very fine spring it was; and Henry found a place among the trees
+where he thought a very beautiful arbour might be made, and he got
+leave to make it, and John helped, and Lucy and Emily were very busy
+about it, and a most pleasant place it was. The hut in the wood was too
+far off for the children to run to when they had but little time; but
+Henry's arbour could be reached in three minutes by the shortest way.
+Mr. Fairchild was so good as to pay John Trueman to make a thatched
+roof and sides to it, and the man-servant John found some old boards
+for seats; but he could not find time to finish the seats as soon as
+Henry wished.
+
+During this time Mrs. Goodriche came over to visit Mrs. Fairchild, and
+she then invited all the family to come and spend a whole day with her
+in the summer, and she promised that on that day, if all was well, she
+would tell them another story about old Mrs. Howard.
+
+But the happiest times of people's lives are often those in which there
+is least to write and talk about; so we must pass over the spring, and
+go on to the month of June, the very first day of which was that fixed
+for the visit to Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+It was a bright morning when the party set out in the carriage which
+Mr. Fairchild had bought. The dew was not off the ground, for they were
+to breakfast at Mrs. Goodriche's; but, as Henry said, the day would be
+too short anyhow, for these happy children thought many days too short.
+
+What a curious old house Mrs. Goodriche's was! it was the very house in
+which Mrs. Howard had lived, and it had been scarcely altered for Mrs.
+Goodriche. There was what the old lady had called her summer parlour,
+because she never sat in it in cold weather; it was low and large, and
+had double glass doors, which opened upon the old-fashioned garden; and
+there was a short walk which went from the door to the old arbour. The
+walls of the room were painted blue, the windows were casements, and
+had seats in them, and there was a step up from the floor into the
+garden.
+
+The visitors found Mrs. Goodriche in this summer parlour.
+
+After breakfast the two elder ladies took out their work. Mr. Fairchild
+walked away somewhere with a book, and the children went into the
+arbour. Lucy and Emily had their doll's work, and Henry had his knife
+and some bits of wood; it was very hot, so that they could not run
+about.
+
+"I love this arbour," said Henry.
+
+_Lucy._ "So do I; don't you remember, Henry, that we were sitting here
+once, thinking of poor Emily when she had the fever, when Mrs.
+Goodriche came to us and told us that Emily was so much better and the
+fever gone, and how glad we were, and how we jumped and screamed? Oh!
+that was a dreadful time."
+
+"To me it was not dreadful," replied Emily; "I think I may say it was a
+happy time, Lucy, for I had thoughts put into my mind in that illness
+which make everything seem different to me ever since. You know what I
+mean, Lucy, I can't explain it."
+
+_Lucy._ "I know what you mean, Emily."
+
+_Emily._ "I never felt anything like that till I had the fever, so I
+call the fever a happy time."
+
+"I wish you would not talk about it," said Henry; "Lucy and I were
+miserable then; were not we, Lucy?"
+
+Mrs. Goodriche dined very early, and after dinner she and Mrs.
+Fairchild came into the arbour, and there she told the story which she
+had promised.
+
+
+
+
+Story of the Last Days of Mrs. Howard
+
+[Illustration: When Betty returned, Mrs. Howard was well satisfied]
+
+
+"It was about half a year after the things had happened which are
+related in the last story of Mrs. Howard, that Betty, one evening when
+she returned from market upon Crop, came into the parlour to her
+mistress and said:
+
+"'Ma'am, I have heard a bit of news; Mr. Bennet is going to leave the
+country.'
+
+"'Indeed, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard: 'how has that happened?'
+
+"'Some relation towards London has left him a property, and our county
+is glad of anything that takes off the family.'
+
+"'Well, well, Betty,' said Mrs. Howard, and Betty knew that when her
+mistress said, 'Well, well,' it was a hint to her to say no more on the
+subject. Mrs. Howard soon heard from other quarters that the Bennets
+were going, but they were not to be off till the Lady Day next.
+
+"A week or two before that time, Betty had occasion to go again to
+town. Many things were wanted, and on such occasions Crop did not
+object to carry panniers.
+
+"When Betty was quite ready, and Crop at the door, and the woman in the
+house who always came to take care of things on such occasions, she
+came to ask her mistress if there was anything more not yet mentioned.
+
+"Betty never travelled in cold weather without a long blue cloak, and a
+black felt hat tied over her mob.
+
+"'Yes, Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'but you must be very
+particular--you must get me two small neat Bibles with gilt edges,
+bound in morocco, scarlet or green; I should wish them alike, and a
+clear print; besides which you must bring a young gentleman's
+pocket-book, all complete and handsome, with a silver clasp; and
+lastly, you must bring me a genteel equipage in chased silver, the
+furniture quite complete and as it should be, and mind it is well
+wrapped in paper.'
+
+"'Oh, ma'am,' said Betty, 'how shall I be able to choose one that will
+exactly suit for what you want? I am quite afraid to undertake the
+bringing of a genteel equipage, there is such a difference of opinion
+about so tasty a thing.'
+
+"'Betty,' replied Mrs. Howard, 'you know I am always pleased with your
+taste; and if anyone in the world knows what I like, it is you, my good
+girl.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard often called Betty a good girl, though she was too old to
+be so called; but it was a habit in those days in which the old lady
+lived.
+
+"'I should know your taste, ma'am,' said Betty, smiling, 'by this time,
+I should think--me who has lived in yours and your lady mother's
+service four-and-forty years next Candlemas;' and so saying Betty set
+out."
+
+"Pray, ma'am," asked Lucy, "what is an equipage?"
+
+"A fine carriage and horses, to be sure, Lucy," said Henry. "Lady Noble
+had an equipage. I heard John once say, 'That's a fine equipage,' when
+he saw Lady Noble riding by."
+
+"Oh, Henry," said Emily, "surely what Betty was to bring with her could
+not be a carriage and horses wrapped in paper."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche smiled, and explained to the children what Mrs. Howard
+meant: she told them that an equipage was a little case which held a
+thimble, scissors, a pencil, or other such little matters, and, being
+either of gold or silver, was hung to the girdle to balance the great
+watches worn by the grandmothers and great-grandmothers of people now
+living.
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "and now please to go on, and tell us
+what Mrs. Howard meant to do with this equipage."
+
+"When Betty returned," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "Mrs. Howard was well
+satisfied with what she had done; and the very next Sunday evening she
+took occasion, after service, to speak to Master and Miss Bennet, and
+to invite them to tea for the next evening.
+
+"'I wonder,' said Master Jacky to Miss Polly, as they walked home
+together by their mother, 'what she can want with us. I promise you I
+shan't go.'
+
+"'What's that you are saying, Jacky?' said Mrs. Bennet.
+
+"Miss Polly then told her mother of the invitation and what her brother
+had said.
+
+"'You had best go,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'and you may, perhaps, get some
+pretty present. I was told by one who was told by another, that Betty
+was in town last week, and laying out money at the silversmith's, and
+at Mr. Bates the bookseller's, so I would have you go: you don't know
+but that the old lady may have some keepsakes to give you.'
+
+"'Well then,' said Jacky, 'if Polly goes, I will; for I don't see why
+she is to have the presents, and me nothing--but as to anything that
+Mrs. Howard ever gave me yet,' added the rude boy, 'I might put it into
+my eye and see none the worse.'
+
+"'And whose fault is that?' said Miss Polly.
+
+"'It don't become you to talk, Miss,' replied Jacky; 'for if I have had
+nothing, you have had no more--so there is half a dozen for one and six
+for another.'
+
+"By this discourse we may see," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that no great
+change for the better had yet passed on these rude children.
+
+"But they had got a notion that, as Jacky said, there were presents in
+the wind, and they set out for Mrs. Howard's determining to behave
+their best, though they did not tell their thoughts to each other, for
+Jacky hoped that Polly would disgrace herself and get nothing, and
+Polly had the same kind wishes for Jacky.
+
+"Mrs. Howard received them in the summer parlour, and they both behaved
+themselves very well, but more out of spite for each other than from
+love of what is right in itself; but you shall hear by-and-by how I
+came to the knowledge of these their thoughts.
+
+"Betty had made a cake, and there was a roast fowl and hot apple-tart
+for supper; and between tea and supper Mrs. Howard showed them many
+curious things, pictures, and dolls dressed in the fashions of her
+youth, and a number of other things which she kept in a Japan cabinet,
+which always stood in the summer parlour while she lived in this house.
+
+"It was not till after supper that she brought out the two Bibles and
+the pocket-book and equipage. She then laid them before her on the
+table, and she spoke to the two children:
+
+"She began by saying that as they were going out of the country and she
+was far in years, she might, perhaps, never see them again in this
+world. She then spoke, in her own sweet warm way, of what our dear
+Saviour has done for us, and when she had said as much as she thought
+the children could bear, she presented each a Bible, having written
+their names in them. She next took the other presents in her hands:
+
+"'And these, my dears,' she said, 'I ask you to accept. I am sorry if
+on former occasions I may have seemed harsh to you, but these little
+gifts are to prove that I am truly sorry if ever I gave you pain; when
+you look at them you will think of me, and know that nothing would ever
+give me more delight than to hear that you were both walking in the
+ways of holiness.'
+
+"She then put the pocket-book into Jacky's hand, and the equipage into
+Miss Polly's; but she hardly expected what followed. The two children
+burst into tears; Jacky rubbed his eyes to hide his; but Miss Polly
+sprang from her chair, and fell weeping into Mrs. Howard's arms.
+
+"'We will, we will try to do better, ma'am,' she said; 'we will
+indeed.'
+
+"As the children walked home they said not one word to each other; and
+a very few days afterwards the family left the country, Mr. Bennet not
+having had even the decency to call and say good-bye to the old lady.
+
+"Mrs. Howard was half-way between sixty and seventy when the Bennets
+left the country, and was supposed by many to be older, for she had
+dressed like an old woman for many years; her hair had long been gray,
+and she had always been a weakly person, very small and very pale.
+
+"She, however, continued to live in this house as many as seventeen
+years after the Bennets were gone, and every year till the last had her
+children's party; but a change was coming on her household--Crop had
+died years before, and Betty afterwards always went to town in the
+market-cart; but what was the loss of Crop to the loss of Betty?
+
+"Betty was younger than Mrs. Howard, but she was called away before
+her; she had lived forty years with Mrs. Howard in this very house, and
+the loss could not be made up to her in this world.
+
+"Mrs. Howard had a great-nephew, a surgeon, of the name of Johnson, who
+lived in a fair village, called Pangbourne, in Berkshire; and when he
+heard of the death of Betty, and how low his aunt was, he came to her,
+and persuaded her to leave the country, and go and reside near to him.
+She was at first unwilling to go, but was at last persuaded; she took
+nothing with her but her favourite chair, her old round table, her
+books, and her cabinet. Her nephew got her some very pleasant rooms in
+a house called the Wood House, about half a mile from the village,
+towards the hills which are near the place. That side of Pangbourne was
+in those days almost a continued wood coppice, with occasional tall
+trees towards the hills, and there was a narrow road and raised path
+through the wood to the town.
+
+"Mrs. Howard's parlour had an old-fashioned bow-window in it, looking
+to the road, though somewhat raised above it; and Mrs. Howard, as old
+people do, loved in fine weather to sit in the bow, and see the few
+people who passed.
+
+"Every day her kind nephew came to see her, and now and then she
+returned his visit; but she was getting very infirm, though she had
+lost neither sight nor hearing, could read and work as in her younger
+days, and having got over the first shock of losing Betty, and the
+fatigue of the change, her faith in God's love was making her as happy
+as she had been before; she liked the people also who kept the house,
+and made herself very pleasant to them. Though she went to Pangbourne
+in the autumn, she did not, until the month of April, find the pleasure
+of sitting in the bow-window.
+
+"It was then that she first noticed two little girls passing and
+returning every day at certain hours to and from the village.
+
+"They were so near of a size that she thought they must be twins. They
+were very fair, and very pretty, and very neat. They wore light green
+stuff frocks, with lawn aprons and tippets, and little tight neat silk
+bonnets of the colour of their frocks. They both always carried a sort
+of satchel, as if they were going and coming from school; and there was
+often with them, when they went to the village, either a man or woman
+servant, such as might be supposed to belong to a farmhouse. They
+often, however, passed by the window in the evening without a servant,
+and sometimes were met by a servant near the house. These little ones
+could not, from their appearance, have been more than seven years of
+age.
+
+"As Mrs. Howard watched them from day to day, she thought them the
+pleasantest little people she had seen for a long time; and all her
+ancient love for children, which age and weakness had almost made her
+fancy was nipped and blighted, began to spring up again and blossom as
+flowers in May. She wished to get acquainted with these fair ones, but
+she took her own way to do so.
+
+"She began one morning, when her window was open, by giving them a kind
+smile as they were walking gravely by, with a man in a smock-frock
+behind them. On seeing this smile they both stopped short and dropped
+formal curtseys.
+
+"From that time, for a week or more, these smiles and these curtseys
+passed between the old lady and the twins twice every day regularly.
+Before the end of the week the children had left off looking grave at
+the lady, and gave smile for smile. You may be sure that Mrs. Howard,
+though she had not poor Betty and Crop to send on her errands, did
+manage to get some pretty toys ready to give these little girls
+whenever the time should come when she should think it right to make
+herself better acquainted with them; but she thought that she would
+observe their ways first, and in doing so she saw several things which
+pleased her. Once she saw them give a poor beggar some of what had been
+put in their satchels for their dinners; and she saw them another time
+pick up something which a very old man had dropped, and give it him as
+politely as they would have done to my lord judge, though it was only a
+potato which he had dropped from a basket. Seeing this it reminded her
+of the old man and his bundle of sticks, and of the ill-behaviour of
+Master Bennet; and then all those old days came fresh to her mind. Mrs.
+Howard had sent to a friend in London to get the toys--two dolls
+exactly alike, and the histories of Miss Jemima Meek and Peter Pippin
+were the things she sent for; and they had not arrived a week when Mrs.
+Howard found a use for them. It was the beginning of July, and a very
+hot close day; Mrs. Howard sat at her window, and saw the little ones
+go as usual towards the village; it was Saturday, and she knew that
+they would be back again about one, for it was a half-holiday. The heat
+became greater and greater towards noon; there was not a breath of air,
+and the sun was hidden by a red glaring mist.
+
+"'We shall have a tempest,' said Mrs. Howard to a maid who had been
+hired to wait upon her; 'I hope the little girls will get home before
+it comes on--have they far to go?'
+
+"When Mrs. Howard had explained what little girls she meant, the maid
+told her that they were the children of a farmer of the name of
+Symonds, and that the house was not a half-mile distant up the lane.
+
+"Whilst Mrs. Howard was talking with the servant, the heavens had grown
+black, the clouds hung low; there was a creaking, groaning sort of
+sound among the trees, and the larger birds arose and flew heavily over
+the woods, uttering harsh cryings.
+
+"'It's coming,' said the servant; and at the same instant the two
+little ones appeared walking from the village.
+
+"'There they are,' cried Mrs. Howard; and at the same moment a
+tremendous flash of lightning covered the whole heavens, followed by a
+peal of awful thunder. Mrs. Howard put her head out of the window, and
+called the little girls, who, from very fright, were standing still.
+
+"They gladly obeyed the call, the maid went down to meet them, and the
+next minute they stood curtseying within the parlour-door. The maid had
+seen a boy who had been sent to meet them, and sent him back to tell
+his mistress that the Misses were with the lady, and that she would
+keep them till the storm was over.
+
+"'What lady am I to say?' asked the boy.
+
+"'Our lady,' replied the maid; 'Surgeon Johnson's aunt.'
+
+"The boy ran home, and told Mrs. Symonds not to be uneasy, for the
+little Misses were safe with Madam Johnson, who lodged at the Wood
+House; so Mrs. Symonds was made easy about her pretty daughters.
+
+"'Well, my dears,' said Mrs. Howard, putting her hands out to the
+little people, 'I am glad to see you in my parlour.'
+
+"'Thank you, ma'am,' said one of them; and the other repeated the same
+words.
+
+"As they spoke they came near, and put each a hand into Mrs. Howard's.
+
+"'Let me look at you, my children,' said the old lady in her pleasant
+smiling way; 'you are like two lilies growing out of one root; I cannot
+tell one from the other; what are your names?'
+
+"'I am Mary, ma'am,' said the eldest.
+
+"'And I am Amelia,' added the other.
+
+"'Amelia,' said Mrs. Howard, 'why, that is my name: but which is the
+oldest?'
+
+"'We came to our mother the same day,' replied Mary; 'but I came first,
+only a very little while though.'
+
+"'Indeed!' said Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Mrs. Baynes had come into the parlour after the children, to see and
+hear what was going forward; and now she thought it time to put in a
+word.
+
+"'Yes, ma'am,' she said, 'they are twins; they are the only ones their
+mother ever had, and they are two pretty Misses, and very good
+children. Are not you very good, my precious dears?'
+
+"The two little ones turned to her; and answered both together:
+
+"'No, ma'am.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard rather wondered at this answer, and said:
+
+"'Not good, my dears, how is that?'
+
+"'We wish to be good, ma'am,' said one of the little girls, 'but we are
+not.'
+
+"'Well to be sure!' remarked Mrs. Baynes; 'but you have a very good
+mamma, my little dears.'
+
+"'Mamma is good to us,' said Mary.
+
+"'But God is the only real good person,' added Amelia.
+
+"Mrs. Howard was rather surprised, but as the storm was still getting
+more frightful, she moved her chair, shut the window, and sat in the
+middle of the room; the two little ones in their fear clinging to her,
+whilst she put an arm round each of them.
+
+"Mrs. Baynes went out to close the windows, and they were left
+together.
+
+"Peal came after peal, and flash after flash; and the old lady and
+children trembled.
+
+"'We ought not to fear,' said Mrs. Howard; 'it is wrong; is not the
+lightning in the hands of God?'
+
+"'We will try not to be afraid,' said the little ones; and they clung
+closer to Mrs. Howard.
+
+"And now there came a fearful hailstorm, patter, patter, against the
+window; and when the hail ceased the rain came pouring down.
+
+"'Now, my loves, let us thank God,' said Mrs. Howard, 'the danger is
+past.'
+
+"The little ones, with that quick obedience which we see in children
+only who are well brought up, joined their hands and said, 'Thank God!'
+but they expressed some fear lest their mother should be frightened
+about them.
+
+"'We will see about that,' said Mrs. Howard; and she rang the hand-bell
+which always stood on the table, for bells were not then fixed on
+cranks and wires in every room as they are now.
+
+"Up came Mrs. Baynes again, and told the little ones that their mother
+knew where they were, for she had sent her a message by the boy.
+
+"'Then we can stay, ma'am,' said the children, quite pleased: and Mrs.
+Howard asked to have the dinner sent up, requesting Mrs. Baynes to make
+up a little more from her own pantry, if she could.
+
+"'That shall be done, ma'am,' she answered; and she added some eggs
+and bacon and a currant tart to Mrs. Howard's four bones of roast lamb.
+
+"'We should like to dine with you, ma'am,' said one of the little
+girls, 'and to drink tea with you sometimes.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard did not yet know one from the other, but she felt that all
+her old love for children was burning up again in her heart.
+
+"'I am old, my dears,' she answered, 'and cannot bear noise and bustle;
+if you can be quiet, I shall be glad to see you often, but if you tire
+me I cannot have you.'
+
+"'I hope we shall be quiet,' they answered; and then they asked her if
+she was _very, very_ old.
+
+"She told them she was eighty-two; and they said to each other, 'Then
+we _must_ be very quiet.'
+
+"The maid came in to lay the cloth, and they seemed quite amused by
+looking at her. The table was very small, but they said there would be
+quite room; and by Mrs. Howard's direction they went to her bedroom,
+took off their bonnets, and the maid combed their pretty curling hair.
+
+"They behaved as well as children could possibly do at table, though
+they prattled a little, and told Mrs. Howard of the animals they had at
+home, their kittens and the old cat, and an owl in the garden called
+Ralph, and many other things. When the dinner was removed, Mrs. Howard
+said she had a great treat for them.
+
+"'What is it, ma'am?' they said.
+
+"'Something very nice,' replied the old lady; and going to the corner
+cupboard, she brought out a doll's cradle, and a small trunk full of
+doll's clothes, and the two new dolls both wrapped in the paper in
+which they had come from London.
+
+"'Now,' she said, 'these are dolls which I keep for my visitors, and
+when you are here you may play with them. I do not call them yours,
+only when you are here; but you may choose which you will call your own
+in this house. Their names are Mary and Amelia.'
+
+"'Oh, ma'am! Oh, ma'am!' cried the children; they were too glad to say
+another word.
+
+"'You may take out the clothes from the trunk and dress them; but,
+before you go, you must put on their night-dresses, and put them to bed
+in the cradle, and restore all the other clothes to the trunk.' The
+little ones quite trembled with joy; they were past speaking. 'Now,'
+said Mrs. Howard, 'go into the bow-window. The lightning is past. I
+must keep in my chair, and you must not disturb me. If the day was
+finer I should let you go into the garden to play, but to-day you
+cannot.'
+
+[Illustration: "_The happy little girls went with the dolls into the
+bow-window._"--Page 174.]
+
+"The happy little girls went with the dolls into the bow-window, and
+Mrs. Howard got her usual short sleep. They did not make any noise. In
+all their behaviour they showed that they had been well brought up.
+
+"They drank tea with Mrs. Howard, and were very busy after tea in
+showing all the clothes to their old kind friend, and in packing them
+up in the trunk, and putting the dolls in the cradle, and restoring all
+the things to the place from whence they had been taken.
+
+"Mrs. Howard saw them kiss the dolls, and heard them wish them a
+good-night when they had done.
+
+"Mrs. Symonds had sent her green market cart and cloaks for her little
+girls. When the cart came they both kissed Mrs. Howard, and asked her
+if they had been quiet.
+
+"'Very quiet, my dears,' she answered.
+
+"'Then may we come again?'
+
+"'You may, my darlings,' answered the old lady; 'and next Saturday
+shall be the day, if all is well.'
+
+"The fair little creatures did come on the day fixed, and the man
+who fetched them home that night brought Mrs. Howard a small cream
+cheese and several pats of fresh butter, with many, many thanks from
+Mrs. Symonds for her great kindness to her children.
+
+"From the day of the thunderstorm till the end of the summer the little
+girls spent Saturday afternoon, every week, with Mrs. Howard, and now
+and then stopped an hour with her on other days; and never passed the
+window without speaking to her, often coming in with flowers, or fruit,
+or a fresh egg, or some little thing from the garden or poultry-yard.
+Thus such a friendship grew up between the old lady and these little
+girls, that one might have thought that Mrs. Howard must have been
+their grandmother.
+
+"Often and often she would hear them read a chapter, or repeat a hymn,
+and do what she could to improve their minds; she taught them to sing
+some fine old psalm tunes, and she also taught them some new stitches
+in the samplers they were working. Many times she walked between them a
+little way in the wood, whilst they carried the dolls, and in these
+walks she often told them stories, so that they loved her more and more
+every day, and tried more and more to please her.
+
+"All this time Mrs. Symonds had been so busy with the work of the farm
+that she had not found time to come herself to thank Mrs. Howard for
+all she was doing for her little ones; and it was rather strange that
+all this time she had understood that the kind old lady's name was
+Johnson. The children never called her anything but 'our nice lady,'
+and never thought of any other name for her.
+
+"But the harvest-time being over, Mr. Symonds told his wife that she
+must not put off calling on the lady any longer.
+
+"'And be sure,' he said, 'that you take something nice in your hand, or
+let the boy carry it after you; some nice cakes and butter pats, or
+anything else; and you may as well go and meet the children as they
+come home this evening, and go in with them.'
+
+"Mrs. Symonds was one of those old-fashioned wives who never went
+anywhere but to church, and as her church was not at Pangbourne she
+seldom passed the Wood House. She, however, made up her basket of
+presents, and having dressed herself neatly, she took the boy and went
+to meet her children.
+
+"She met them a little above the Wood House, and they turned back with
+her, and soon brought her to the door of Mrs. Howard's parlour: there
+they knocked, and the old lady having called to them to come in, the
+twins entered, leading their mother.
+
+"But how great was their surprise when their mother, at the sight of
+Mrs. Howard, uttered a cry, ran forwards and threw her arms round the
+old lady's neck.
+
+"'Oh, dear, dear Mrs. Howard,' she said, 'is it you? Can it be you?'
+
+"Mrs. Howard did not know Mrs. Symonds, and as she drew herself civilly
+from her arms, she said:
+
+"'Indeed, ma'am, I have not the pleasure of knowing you.'
+
+"'Not remember Polly Bennet?' replied Mrs. Symonds, 'but I remember
+you, my best and dearest friend, and shall remember you, for I have
+cause to do so, when time shall be no more.'
+
+"Mrs. Howard now herself came forward and kissed Mrs. Symonds. The
+tears stood in the old lady's eyes, and she placed her old thin hands
+in the other's.
+
+"'And are you,' she said, 'the mother of these dear little girls? and
+have I lived near you so long and not known you? Now I think I can
+trace the features; sit down, my dear friend, and tell me all about
+yourself and your family.'
+
+"'I have not much to say,' answered Mrs. Symonds; 'my parents are dead,
+and my brother living far off: and I have been blessed beyond my
+deservings in a good husband and these dear children.'
+
+"'Dear, indeed,' said Mrs. Howard.
+
+"'But how can I value enough what you have done for me, Mrs. Howard?'
+said Mrs. Symonds, 'and through me, in some sort, to my mother and
+father before their death.'
+
+"'I do not understand you,' said Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Mrs. Symonds then told the old lady how she had been affected by the
+last kindness which she had shown to her and her brother.
+
+"'When you sent for us, dear madam,' she said, 'we accepted your
+invitation because we expected presents; but with presents we expected
+also, what we had well deserved, a severe lecture. But when you spoke
+to us, as you did, with such amazing kindness--when you even almost
+begged our pardons if you had been hard upon us, which you never
+were--when you spoke to us of our Saviour, whilst your eyes filled with
+tears, we were cut to the heart and filled with shame, and we then
+resolved to read the Bibles you gave us. And we never could forget your
+words.
+
+"'The work, indeed, is of God; but you, dear lady, were made the
+minister of it in the commencement. You were the first person who made
+me and my brother to understand that the new spirit imparted by God to
+His children is the spirit of love.'
+
+"Mrs. Symonds said much more; indeed she went on speaking till Mrs.
+Howard burst into tears of joy and thankfulness.
+
+"The little ones were frightened to see their mother and Mrs. Howard
+weeping, and could not at first be made to understand that they were
+crying for very joy. When they understood that Mrs. Howard was an old
+dear friend of their mother's, they became happy again.
+
+"What a pleasant party there was that evening in the bow-window! the
+white cakes and fresh butter and cream were added to the feast; and
+what a delightful story was there to tell to Mr. Symonds when his wife
+and children got home!
+
+"'Tell the old lady,' said Mr. Symonds, 'that I should be ever ready to
+serve her to the last drop of my blood.'
+
+"From that time," continued Mrs. Goodriche, "till the death of Mrs.
+Howard, which happened in her ninetieth year, Mr. and Mrs. Symonds were
+a son and daughter to her. Mary and Amelia never both left her;
+sometimes one, and sometimes both, being continually with her."
+
+"This is a beautiful story," said Lucy.
+
+"I wish it was longer," said Henry; "can't you tell us more, ma'am?"
+
+"Not now, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche, "we must go in now; and,
+indeed, I know not that I have any more to tell."
+
+It was late when the family got home. As they were returning, Mrs.
+Fairchild told Mr. Fairchild the story of old Mrs. Howard, which
+pleased him much.
+
+
+
+
+The Fair Little Lady
+
+[Illustration: The coach came in sight]
+
+
+It was not long after that delightful day at Mrs. Goodriche's, when the
+children, having done their morning lessons, had just gone out of the
+hall-door, on their way to Henry's arbour, when they heard the wheels
+of a carriage sounding from a distance.
+
+The sound was not like that of a waggon, which goes along heavily,
+crashing and breaking the stones in its passage, whilst the feet of the
+horses come down with a heavy beat upon the ground; but horses and
+wheels went lightly, and as if the carriage was coming near quickly.
+
+Very few light carriages passed that way, and therefore when anything
+of the kind was heard or seen, everybody left off what they were doing
+to look, let them be ever so busy. Lucy and Emily and Henry ran down to
+the gate which opened on the road. Henry climbed to the top of the
+highest bar; but the little girls stood on one side, where they were
+half hidden by a rose-bush.
+
+When they were got there the carriage was heard more plainly: and
+Henry was hardly fixed upon the top of the gate before John came up,
+with a hoe and a basket in his hand.
+
+"So, Master Henry," he said, "you are come to see the coach; I just
+caught sight of it as it went round the corner below, and I promise you
+it is worth seeing; it beats Sir Charles Noble's to nothing--but here
+they come."
+
+At first there appeared a groom, dressed in a glazed hat, and a livery,
+and shining boots; and he was riding a fine horse, and he went forward
+quickly; he had several dogs running by him. Lucy and Emily were glad
+that John, with his hoe, was close by, for they did not love strange
+dogs.
+
+But the groom and his dogs were very soon out of sight; he was riding
+on to see that the gates were open where the coach was going.
+Immediately afterwards the coach came in sight--and a fine new coach it
+was; and there were four horses, with postillions whipping and cutting
+away; and ladies and gentlemen in the coach.
+
+Lucy and Emily and Henry did not look at the grown people, but at a
+very pretty little lady, of Emily's age perhaps, who was looking out of
+the window on their side.
+
+They saw her face, which was fair and very pale, and they saw her
+curling light hair, and her blue satin hat, which had white feathers in
+it; and they knew that she saw them, for she rather smiled and looked
+pleased, and turned to speak about them, they thought, to the lady next
+to her. But the coach was gone in a minute, not rattling like a
+hack-chaise, but making a sort of low rumbling sound, and that sound
+was not heard long.
+
+"Who are those?" said Henry, as he stood at the very top of the gate,
+like a bird upon a perch, "who are those fine people?"
+
+"They are the great folks," replied John, "who are come to live at Sir
+Charles Noble's. They call them Honourable--by way of distinction--the
+Honourable Mr. and Mrs. Darwell, and they are immensely rich; and that
+is their only child, for they have but one--and she, to be sure, is no
+small treasure, as people say, and they never can make enough of her."
+
+"What is her name, John?" asked Lucy.
+
+"Don't ask me, Miss," replied John; "for though I have heard the name,
+I could not pretend to speak it properly, it is so unaccountably fine."
+
+"I should like to hear it," said Emily.
+
+"And that you will be sure to do soon, Miss," answered John; "for all
+the country is talking about the family, and they say they are uncommon
+grand."
+
+"But, John," said Henry, "when will you come and nail the benches in my
+hut? Will you come now? Shall I fetch the hammer and nails?"
+
+"No, master," returned John, "you need not fetch them, for I have them
+here in this basket, and was just going when I saw the coach."
+
+"Away then," cried Henry, jumping from the top of the gate, and running
+before, whilst John followed close behind him, and Lucy and Emily came
+afterwards, talking of the fair little lady.
+
+
+
+
+Story of a Holiday
+
+[Illustration: Henry looked along the road]
+
+
+One day a letter came from Mrs. Goodriche to say that she was going
+early the next day to the town, in a hired chaise, and that she hoped
+to be back again in the evening; she added that, as she should be quite
+alone, it would be a great pleasure to her to take up Mrs. Fairchild
+and one of the little people to go with her to town, and she would set
+them down again at their gate.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild thought this a very neighbourly offer, and it was soon
+settled that she should go, and take Lucy with her, and that Mr.
+Fairchild should get the horse he often rode and attend the carriage.
+
+Lucy very much pressed her mother to take Emily instead of herself, but
+it was Lucy's turn to go out when there was a scheme only for one, and
+I don't think that Emily would have taken it from her on any account.
+So an answer was written to Mrs. Goodriche, and her kind invitation
+accepted.
+
+There was a good deal of talking and settling with Lucy about what
+Emily and Henry wanted her to get for them in the town, before they
+went to bed. Emily had one shilling and sixpence, and Henry tenpence,
+and it was of great consequence to them that this money should be spent
+to the best advantage.
+
+It was at last settled that Lucy should choose a book for each of
+them--Henry's book was to be about a boy--and the rest of their money,
+if any was left, was to be spent as Lucy thought might please them
+best. So she took their money, and put it into her purse with her own.
+She had two shillings, and she had settled it in her own mind that she
+would buy nothing for herself, but spend some, if not all of it, for
+her sister and brother.
+
+The family were all up at six o'clock, and soon afterwards they might
+be seen seated before the open window of the parlour at breakfast,
+those who were going being quite ready.
+
+Emily and Henry, who were to be left, were to have no lessons to do,
+but their father and mother advised them not to tire themselves in the
+early part of the day by running about, but to amuse themselves during
+the very hottest hours with something quiet. Mr. Fairchild also
+reminded them that they must not go beyond the bounds in which they
+were always allowed to play.
+
+"I hope we shall be good, mamma," said Emily, "I hope we shall!" And
+Henry said the same.
+
+Henry ran out to the gate to look for the carriage after he had taken
+breakfast, and he got to the very highest bar, and looked along the
+road, which he could see a great way, because it came down a steep hill
+from Mrs. Goodriche's house.
+
+It was hardly more than a black speck on the white road when he first
+saw it, and then he lost sight of it as it descended into the valley,
+and he heard it rattle and jingle before he got sight of it again; but
+when he was sure of it, he ran to the house, and you might have heard
+Lucy's name from the very cellar to the roof.
+
+Emily was with Lucy in their little room, and she was holding her
+gloves whilst Lucy tied her bonnet, and she was talking over the things
+that were to be bought, when their brother's voice came up the stairs
+as loud and sharp as if a stage-coach was coming, which would not wait
+one moment for those who were going.
+
+"I hope we shall not get into a scrape to-day," said Emily: "Henry has
+forgotten the day when mamma and papa went out, and we behaved so ill;
+what can we do to keep ourselves out of mischief?"
+
+Lucy had no time to answer, for Henry was at the door, and there was
+such a rub-a-dub-dub upon it that her voice could not have been heard.
+At the same minute the hack-chaise had come jingling up to the gate,
+and Mrs. Goodriche was looking out with her pleasant smiling face.
+John, too, had brought the horse to the gate, and everybody who
+belonged to the house was soon out upon the grass-plot; the dog was
+there, and quite as set up as Henry himself; and Betty came too, though
+nobody knew why. Mrs. Fairchild got in first, and then Lucy; and
+everybody said good-bye as if those who were going were not to come
+back for a month; and the post-boy cracked his whip, and Mr. Fairchild
+mounted his horse, and away they went.
+
+Emily and Henry watched them till the turn of the road prevented them
+from seeing them any longer; and then Henry said:
+
+"Let us run to the chesnut-trees at the top of the round hill, and then
+we shall be able to see the carriage again going up on the other side;
+I saw it come down from Mrs. Goodriche's."
+
+"Stay but one moment," said Emily, and she ran upstairs, put on her
+bonnet and tippet, and was down again in one minute, with her doll on
+her arm and a little book in her hand.
+
+"Come, come," said Henry, and away they ran along a narrow path, among
+the shrubs in the garden, out at a little gate, and up the green slope.
+They were very soon at the top of the small hill, and under the shade
+of the chesnut-trees. They passed through the grove to the side which
+was farthest from their house, and then they sat down on the dry and
+bare root of one of the trees.
+
+For a minute or more they could not see the carriage, because it was
+down in the valley beneath them, and the road there was much shaded by
+willows and wych-elms and other trees that love the neighbourhood of
+water, for the brook which turned the mill was down there. But when the
+carriage began to go up on the other side, they saw it quite plain;
+there was the post-boy in his yellow jacket, jogging up and down on his
+saddle, and Mr. Fairchild sometimes a little before and sometimes a
+little behind the carriage.
+
+Henry was still in very high spirits; he was apt to be set up by any
+change, and when he was set up, he was almost sure to get into a
+scrape, unless something could be thought of to settle him down
+quietly.
+
+Emily had thought of something, and got it ready; but whilst the
+carriage was in sight nothing was to be done, for Henry had picked up a
+branch which had fallen from one of the trees, and as he sat on the
+root, was jogging up and down, waving his branch like a whip, and
+imitating those sort of odd noises which drivers make to their horses;
+such as gee-up! so-ho! and now and then he made a sort of smacking with
+his lips.
+
+"Are you driving a waggon or a coach?" asked Emily.
+
+"A coach, to be sure," said Henry; "don't you see that I have got a
+chaise from the Red Lion, and that I am driving Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs.
+Goodriche and Miss Lucy Fairchild to the town, and here we go on?"
+
+The carriage was long getting up the hill, for it was a very steep one;
+but when it had reached the top, it got in among trees again, and was
+soon out of sight; and then Emily said:
+
+"Now, Henry, I am going to curl my doll's hair, and dress her over
+again, for she is not tidy, and I have got a little book here which you
+may read to me."
+
+"What book is it?" said Henry.
+
+"You never saw it," she answered; "mamma found it yesterday in a box
+where she keeps many old things--she did not know that she had saved
+it--it was hers when she was a little child, and she supposed that it
+was lost."
+
+"Let me see it, Emily," said Henry.
+
+"Will you read it to me then?" asked Emily.
+
+Henry was a good-natured boy, and loved his sisters, and had much
+pleasure in doing what they wished him to do; he therefore said at
+once, "Yes," threw away his branch of fir, and took the book.
+
+This little book, which Mrs. Fairchild had found in her old chest,
+could not have been much less than a hundred years old; it was the size
+of a penny book, and had a covering of gilt paper, with many old cuts;
+its title was, "The History of the Little Boy who, when running after
+the Echo, found his Papa."
+
+When Henry had seen how many pictures there were, and when he had read
+the title, he was quite in a hurry to begin the story, and Emily was so
+much pleased at hearing it, although she had read it before, that she
+forgot her doll altogether, and let her lie quietly on her lap.
+
+
+
+
+Little Edwy and the Echo
+
+[Illustration: He turned away from the terrible bird]
+
+
+"It was in the time of our good Queen Anne, when none of the trees in
+the great forest of Norwood, near London, had begun to be cut down,
+that a very rich gentleman and lady lived there: their name was Lawley.
+
+"They had a fine old house and large garden, with a wall all round it,
+and the woods were so close upon this garden, that some of the high
+trees spread their branches over the top of the wall.
+
+"Now, this lady and gentleman were very proud and very grand, and
+despised all people poorer than themselves, and there were none whom
+they despised more than the gipsies, who lived in the forest all about.
+
+"There was no place in all England then so full of gipsies as the
+forest of Norwood.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had been married many years, and had no children;
+at length they had one son--they called him Edwy, and they felt they
+could not make too much of him, or dress him too fine.
+
+"When he was just old enough to run about without help, he used to wear
+his trousers inlaid with the finest lace, with golden studs and laced
+robings; he had a plume of feathers in his cap, which was of velvet,
+with a button of gold to fasten it up in front under the feathers, so
+that whoever saw him with the servants who attended him, used to say,
+'Whose child is that?'
+
+"He was a pretty boy, too, and, when his first sorrow came, was still
+too young to have learned any of the proud ways of his father and
+mother.
+
+"No one is so rich as to be above the reach of trouble, therefore pride
+and self-sufficiency are never suitable to the state of man.
+
+"Trouble was long in coming to Mr. and Mrs. Lawley, but when it came it
+was only the more terrible.
+
+"One day, when the proud parents had been absent some hours on a visit
+to a friend a few miles distant, Edwy was nowhere to be found on their
+return--his waiting-maid was gone, and had taken away his finest
+clothes; at least, these were also missing.
+
+"The poor father and mother were almost beside themselves with grief,
+and all the gentlemen and magistrates about rose up together to find
+the child, and discover those who had stolen him, but all in vain; of
+course, the gipsies were suspected and well examined, but nothing could
+be made of it; nor was it ever made out in what way the little boy was
+got off; but got off he had been by the gipsies, and carried away to a
+country among hills, on the borders of the two shires of Worcester and
+Hereford."
+
+"Did not I know it?" cried Henry, as he stopped to turn over a leaf; "I
+knew it from the first that the gipsies had him."
+
+"In that country," he continued, as he read on, "there is a valley
+where two watercourses meet deep in a bottom; where there are many
+trees, and many bushes, and much broken irregular ground, where also
+there are rocks, and caves, and holes in these rocks, and every
+possible convenience for the haunt of wild people. To this place the
+gipsies carried the little boy, and there they kept him, all the
+following winter, warm in a hut with some of their own children.
+
+"They had stripped him of his velvet, and feathers, and lace, and gold
+clasps, and studs, and clothed him in rags, and daubed his fair skin
+with mud; but they fed him well; and after a little while he seemed to
+be unconscious of any change.
+
+"Now, the part which comes next of this true and wonderful history has
+nothing to go upon but the confused and imperfect recollections of a
+little child.
+
+"The story nowhere tells the age of Edwy when he was stolen, but he had
+been lost to his parents from the time that the leaves in the forest of
+Norwood were becoming sear and falling off, till the sweet spring was
+far advanced towards the summer.
+
+"Probably the cunning gipsies had hoped that during the long months of
+winter the little child would quite forget the few words which he had
+learned to speak distinctly in his father's house, or that he would
+forget also to call himself Edwy; or to cry, as he remembered that he
+often did, 'Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa! come to little Edwy.' The
+gipsies tried to teach him that his name was not Edwy, but Jack or Tom,
+or some such name; and to make him say mam and dad, and call himself
+the gipsy boy, born in a barn. But after he had learned all these
+words, whenever anything hurt or frightened him, he would cry again,
+'Mamma! papa! come to Edwy.' The gipsies could not take him out, of
+course, whilst there was danger of his breaking out in this way; and
+after he came to that hut in the valley, he did not remember ever going
+out with any of the people when they went their rounds of begging, and
+pilfering, and buying rags; telling fortunes meanwhile, as gipsies
+always do.
+
+"When left behind, there were always two or three children, a great
+girl, an old woman, or a sick person, staying with him, until the day
+which set him free from his troubles. It was in the month of May. Who
+would not like to live like a gipsy in a wood, if all the year round
+was like that month of May? It was about noon, and Edwy, who had been
+up before the sun, to breakfast with those who were going out for their
+day's begging and stealing, had fallen asleep on a bed of dry leaves in
+the hut, as soon as most of the people were gone; one old woman, who
+was too lame to tramp, was left with him.
+
+"He slept long, and when he awoke he sat up on his bed of leaves, and
+looked about him to see who was with him; he saw no one within the hut,
+and no one at the doorway.
+
+"Little children have great dread of being alone. He listened to hear
+if there were any voices without, but he could hear nothing but the
+rush of a waterfall close by, and the distant cry of sheep and lambs.
+The next thing the little one remembered that he did, was to get up and
+go out of the door of the hut. The hut was built of rude rafters and
+wattles in the front of a cave or hole in a rock; it was down low in
+the glen at the edge of the brook, a little below the waterfall. When
+the child came out, he looked anxiously for somebody, and was more and
+more frightened when he could see no creature of his own kind amid all
+the green leaves, and all along the water's edge above and below.
+
+"Where was the old woman all this time? who can say? but perhaps not
+far off; perhaps she might have been deaf, and, though near, did not
+hear the noise made by the child when he came out of the hut.
+
+"Edwy did not remember how long he stood by the brook; but this is
+certain that the longer he felt himself to be alone, the more
+frightened he became, and soon began to fancy terrible things. There
+was towards the top of the rock from which the waters fell a huge old
+yew-tree, or rather bush, which hung forward over the fall. It looked
+very black in comparison with the tender green of the fresh leaves of
+the neighbouring trees, and the white and glittering spray of the
+water. Edwy looked at it and fancied that it moved; his eye was
+deceived by the dancing motion of the water.
+
+"Whilst he looked and looked, some great black bird came out from the
+midst of it uttering a harsh croaking noise. The little boy could bear
+no more; he turned away from the terrible bush and the terrible bird,
+and ran down the valley, leaving hut and all behind, and crying, as he
+always did when hurt or frightened, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come, oh, come to
+Edwy!'
+
+"He ran and ran, whilst his little bare feet were pierced with pebbles,
+and his legs torn with briars, until he came to where the valley became
+narrower, and where one might have thought the rocks and banks on each
+side had been cleft by the hand of a giant, so nicely would they have
+fitted could they have been brought together again. The brook ran along
+a pebble channel between these rocks and banks, and there was a rude
+path which went in a line with the brook; a path which was used only by
+the gipsies and a few poor cottagers, whose shortest way from the great
+road at the end of the valley to their own houses was by that solitary
+way.
+
+"As Edwy ran, he still cried, 'Mamma! mamma! papa! papa! Oh, come, oh,
+come to Edwy!'--and he kept up his cry from time to time as he found
+breath to utter it, till his young voice began to be returned in a sort
+of hollow murmur.
+
+"When first he observed this, he was even more frightened than before;
+he stood and looked round, and then he turned with his back towards the
+hut, and ran and ran again, till he got deeper amongst the rocks. He
+stopped again, for the high black banks frightened him still more, and
+setting up his young voice he called again, and his call was the same
+as before.
+
+"He had scarcely finished his cry, when a voice, from whence he knew
+not, seemed to answer him; it said, 'Come, come to Edwy;' it said it
+once, it said it twice, it said it a third time, but it seemed each
+time more distant.
+
+"The child looked up, the child looked round, he could never describe
+what he felt; but in his great agitation he cried more loudly, 'Oh,
+papa! mamma! Come, come to poor Edwy!' It was an echo, the echo of the
+rocks which repeated the words of the child; and the more loudly he
+spoke, the more perfect was the echo; but he could catch only the few
+last words; this time he only heard, 'Poor, poor Edwy!' Edwy had not
+lost all recollection of some far distant happy home, and of some kind
+parents far away; and now at that minute he believed that what the echo
+said came from them, and that they were calling to him, and saying,
+'Poor, poor Edwy!' But where were those who called to him? alas! he
+could not tell. Were they in the holes in the rocks?--his mind was then
+used to the notion of people living in caves--or were they at the top
+of the rocks? or were they up high in the blue bright heavens?
+
+"It would have been a sorrowful sight to behold that pretty boy
+looking up at the rocks and the sky, and down among the reeds, and
+sedges, and alders by the side of the brook, for some persons to whom
+the voice might belong; in hopes of seeing that same lady he sometimes
+dreamed of, and that kind gentleman he used to call papa; and to see
+how the tears gushed from his eyes when he could not find anyone.
+
+"After a while he called again, and called louder still. 'Come, come,'
+was his cry again, 'Edwy is lost! lost! lost!' Echo repeated the last
+words as before, 'Lost! lost! lost!' and now the voice sounded from
+behind him, for he had moved round a corner of a rock.
+
+"The child heard the voice behind, and turned and ran that way; and
+stopped and called again, and then heard it the other way; and next he
+shrieked from fear, and echo returned the shriek once more, and thrice,
+finishing off with broken sounds, which to Edwy's ears appeared as if
+somebody a long way off was mocking him.
+
+"His terror was now at its highest; indeed he could never remember what
+he did next, or when he turned to go down the valley; but turn he did,
+after having run back many paces.
+
+"His steps, however, were guided by One whose eye was never off him,
+even his kind and heavenly Father; and on he went, neither heeding
+stones nor briars; every step taking him nearer to the mouth of the
+glen, and the entrance on the great high road.
+
+"And who had been driving along that road in a fine carriage with four
+horses?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Who?" cried Henry Fairchild, turning over another leaf; "who, but his
+own papa?--but I must go on."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Lawley had given up all hopes of finding their little boy
+near Norwood, and they had set out in their coach to go all over the
+country in search of him. They had come the day before to a town near
+to the place where the gipsies had kept Edwy all the winter, and there
+they had made many inquiries, particularly about any gipsies who might
+be in the habit of haunting that country: but people there were afraid
+of the gipsies, and did not like to say anything which might bring them
+into trouble with them. The gipsies never did much mischief in the way
+of stealing near their own huts, and were always civil when civilly
+treated.
+
+"The poor father and mother, therefore, could get no information there;
+and the next morning they had come on across the country, and along the
+road into which the gipsies' valley opened.
+
+"Wherever these unhappy parents saw a wild country, full of woods, and
+where the ground was rough and broken, they thought, if possible, more
+than ever of their lost child; and at those times Mrs. Lawley always
+began to weep--indeed, she had done little else since she had missed
+her boy. The travellers first came in sight of the gipsies' valley, and
+the vast sweep of woods on each side of it, just as the horses had
+dragged the coach to the top of a very high hill or bank over which the
+road went; and then also those in the coach saw before them a very
+steep descent, so steep that it was thought right to put the drag upon
+the wheels.
+
+"Mr. Lawley proposed that they should get out and walk down the hill.
+Mrs. Lawley consented; the coach stopped, everyone got down from it,
+and Mr. Lawley walked first, followed closely by his servant William;
+whilst Mrs. Lawley came on afterwards, leaning on the arm of her
+favourite little maid Barbara. The poor parents, when their grief
+pressed most heavily on them, were easier with other people than with
+each other.
+
+"'Oh, Barbara!' said Mrs. Lawley, when the others were gone forward;
+'when I remember the pretty ways of my boy, and think of his lovely
+face and gentle temper, and of the way in which I lost him, my heart is
+ready to break; and I often remember, with shame and sorrow, the pride
+in which I indulged, before it pleased God to bring this dreadful
+affliction upon me.'
+
+"The little maid who walked by her wept too; but she said:
+
+"'Oh, dear mistress! if God would give us but the grace to trust in
+Him, our grief would soon be at an end. I wish we could trust in Him,
+for He can and will do everything for us to make us happy.'
+
+"'Ah, Barbara!' said the lady; and she could add no more--she went on
+in silence.
+
+"Mr. Lawley walked on before with the servant. He, too, was thinking of
+his boy, and his eye ranged over the wild scene on the right hand of
+the road. He saw a raven rise from the wood--he heard its croaking
+noise--it was perhaps the same black bird that had frightened Edwy.
+
+"William remarked to his master that there was a sound of falling
+water, and said there were sure to be brooks running in the valley. Mr.
+Lawley was, however, too sad to talk to his servant; he could only say,
+'I don't doubt it,' and then they both walked on in silence.
+
+"They came to the bottom of the valley even before the carriage got
+there. They found that the brook came out upon the road in that place,
+and that the road was carried over it by a little stone bridge.
+
+"Mr. Lawley stopped upon the bridge; he leaned on the low wall, and
+looked upon the dark mouth of the glen. William stood a little behind
+him.
+
+"William was young; his hearing and all his senses were very quick. As
+he stood there, he thought he heard a voice; but the rattling of the
+coach-wheels over the stony road prevented his hearing it distinctly.
+He heard the cry again; but the coach was coming nearer, and making it
+still more difficult for him to catch the sound.
+
+"His master was surprised to see him vault over the low parapet of the
+bridge the next moment, and run up the narrow path which led up the
+glen.
+
+"It was the voice of Edwy, and the answering echo, which William had
+heard. He had got at just a sufficient distance from the sound of the
+coach-wheels at the moment when the echo had returned poor little
+Edwy's wildest shriek.
+
+"The sound was fearful, broken, and not natural; but William was not
+easily put out; he looked back to his master, and his look was such
+that Mr. Lawley immediately left the bridge to follow him, though
+hardly knowing why.
+
+"They both went on up the glen, the man being many yards before the
+master. Another cry and another answering echo again reached the ear of
+William, proceeding as from before him. The young man again looked at
+his master and ran on. The last cry had been heard by Mr. Lawley, who
+immediately began to step with increasing quickness after his servant,
+though, as the valley turned and turned among the rocks, he soon lost
+sight of him.
+
+"Mr. Lawley was by this time come into the very place where the echo
+had most astonished Edwy, because each reverberation which it had made
+seemed to sound from opposite sides; and here he heard the cry again,
+and heard it distinctly. It was the voice of a child first, crying,
+'No! no! no! Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh, come!'--and then a fearful
+shriek or laugh of some wild woman's voice.
+
+"Mr. Lawley rushed on, winding swiftly between the rocks, whilst
+various voices, in various tones, which were all repeated in strange
+confusion by the echoes, rang in his ears; but amid all these sounds he
+thought only of that one plaintive cry, 'Papa! mamma! Oh, come! Oh,
+come!' Suddenly he came out to where he saw his servant again, and with
+him an old woman, who looked like a witch. She had the hand of a little
+ragged child, to which she held firmly, though the baby, for such
+almost he was, struggled hard to get free, crying, 'Papa! mamma! Oh,
+come! Oh, come!'
+
+"William was arguing with the woman, and he had got the other hand of
+the child.
+
+"Mr. Lawley rushed on, trembling with hope, trembling with fear--could
+this boy be his Edwy? William had entered his service since he had lost
+his child; he could not therefore know him; nor could he himself be
+sure--so strange, so altered, did the baby look.
+
+"But Edwy knew his own father in a moment; he could not run to meet
+him, for he was tightly held by the gipsy, but he cried:
+
+"'Oh, papa! papa is come to Edwy!'
+
+"The old woman knew Mr. Lawley, and saw that the child knew him. She
+had been trying to persuade William that the boy was her grandchild;
+but it was all up with her now; she let the child's hand go, and whilst
+he was flying to his father's arms, she disappeared into some
+well-known hole or hollow in the neighbouring rocks.
+
+"Who can pretend to describe the feelings of the father when he felt
+the arms of his long-lost boy clinging round his neck, and his little
+heart beating against his own? or who could say what the mother felt
+when she saw her husband come out from the mouth of the valley,
+bearing in his arms the little ragged child? Could it be her own--her
+Edwy? She could hardly be sure of her happiness till the boy held out
+his arms to her, and cried, 'Mamma! mamma!'"
+
+[Illustration: "_Could it be her own--her Edwy? She could hardly be
+sure of her happiness._"--Page 202.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"This story is too short," said Henry; "I wish it had been twice as
+long; I want to hear more of that little boy and of the gipsies."
+
+"It is getting very hot," said Emily, when they had done talking; "let
+us go into the house, and we will not come out again until it is cool.
+I hope we shall not be naughty to-day, Henry, but do what papa and
+mamma will think right."
+
+"Come, then," replied Henry. And they went back to the house and spent
+the rest of the morning in their play-room: and I am sure that they
+were very happy in a quiet way, for Henry was making a grotto of moss
+and shells, fixed on a board with paste; and Emily was just beginning
+to make a little hermit to be in the grotto, till they both changed
+their minds a little, and turned the grotto into a gipsy's hut, and
+instead of a hermit an old woman was made to stand at the door.
+
+[Illustration: "Oh Papa! Mamma! Come to Edwy!"]
+
+
+
+
+Further Story of a Holiday
+
+[Illustration: "She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily]
+
+
+The evening was very cool and pleasant, when Emily and Henry went out
+to play. Mary Bush had given Henry a young magpie; she had taught it to
+say a few words, to the great delight of the children. It could say,
+"Good morning!" "How do you do?" "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry."
+"Give Mag her dinner." "A bit of meat for poor Mag." To be sure the
+bird's words did not come out very clearly. But it was quite enough, as
+Henry said, if he understood them.
+
+Mag had a large wicker cage, which generally hung up on a nail in the
+kitchen; but her master, being very fond of her company, used often to
+take the cage down, with the bird in it, and take it into his play-room
+or his hut, or hang it upon the bough of a tree before the parlour
+window, that Mag might enjoy the fresh air. Sometimes, too, Henry let
+the bird out, that she might enjoy herself a little, for as the
+feathers of one of her wings were cut close, she could not fly; and she
+was very tame, and never having known liberty, she was as fond of her
+cage, when she was tired or hungry, as some old ladies are of their
+parlours.
+
+"Let us take Mag with us out of doors," said Henry; and the cage was
+taken down and carried out between the two children, whilst Mag kept
+chattering all the way, and was, if anything, more pert and brisk than
+spoiled magpies generally are. They first went to the hut, and set the
+cage on the bench, whilst Henry and Emily busied themselves in putting
+a few things to rights about the place, which had been set wrong by a
+hard shower which had happened the night before. There were a few
+fallen leaves which had blown into the hut from some laurels growing on
+the outside; and Henry said:
+
+"I do hate laurels; for they are always untidy, and scattering about
+their yellow leaves when all the trees about them are in their best
+order."
+
+Whilst the children were going in and out after these leaves, to pick
+them up and throw them out of sight, Mag kept hopping from one perch to
+another, wriggling her tail, twisting her head to one side and another,
+and crying, "Oh, pretty Mag!" "Mag's a hungry," in a voice more like
+scolding than anything else.
+
+"What now, mistress?" said Henry.
+
+"She is not in the best possible temper," replied Emily.
+
+"She wants to be out," answered Henry; "she does not like to be shut
+up."
+
+"But," said Emily, "it would be dangerous to let her out here, so far
+from the house, and amongst the trees."
+
+Henry was in a humour common not only to small but great boys on
+occasions. He chose, just then, to think himself wiser than his sister,
+and, without another word, he opened the cage door, and out walked
+Mag, with the air of a person who had gained a point, and despised
+those who had given way to her.
+
+And first she strutted round the inside of the hut, crying, "Oh, pretty
+Mag!" with a vast deal of importance, and then she walked out at the
+entrance, trailing her tail after her, like a lady in a silk gown.
+
+"She will get amongst the shrubs," said Emily; "and how shall we get
+her out of them?"
+
+"Never fear," returned Henry; "you know that she cannot fly."
+
+One would have thought that the bird knew what they said, for whilst
+they spoke, she laid her head on one side, as if turning an ear--stood
+still a minute, and then paraded onwards--I say paraded, for if she had
+been walking at a coronation she could not have taken more state upon
+herself.
+
+"Let us see which way she goes," said Henry.
+
+And the two children walked after her; Emily bringing the light wicker
+cage with her.
+
+Mag knew as well that they were after her as if she had been what the
+country people call a Christian, meaning a human creature. And she
+walked on, not taking to the shrubs, which grew thick about the hut,
+but along a bit of grass-plot, at the farthest end of which was a row
+of laurels and other evergreens. These trees hid the back yard of the
+house from the garden and small portion of land near to it, which Mr.
+Fairchild had given up to flowering shrubs and ornamental trees.
+
+Behind these evergreens was a row of palings, and as Mag drew near to
+these laurels, Henry ran forward, crying:
+
+"She will get through the palings, if we don't mind, and into the
+yard."
+
+Mag let him come near to her, and then gave a long hop, standing still
+till he was only at arm's length from her. Then she gave a second hop,
+alighting under a branch of laurel; and when Henry rushed forward to
+catch her there, she made another spring, and was hidden among the
+leaves.
+
+"Stop! stop!" cried Henry, "stop there, Emily, where you are; and I
+will run round and drive her back; and you must be ready to catch her."
+And away he ran to the nearest wicket, and was on the other side of the
+laurels and the paling, in the fold-yard, not a minute afterwards.
+
+Emily heard him making a noise on the opposite side of the shrubs, as
+if he thought Mag was between him and his sister, among the laurels;
+and he called also to her, bidding her to be ready when the bird
+appeared.
+
+Emily watched and watched, but no bird came out; and not a minute
+afterwards she heard Henry cry:
+
+"O there! there! I see her going across the yard towards the barn! Come
+round! leave the cage! come quickly, Emily!"
+
+She obeyed the call in an instant; down went the cage on the grass. She
+was at the wicket and in the fold-yard in a minute, and there she saw
+Mag pacing along the yard, in her coronation step, towards the barn,
+being, to all appearance, in no manner of hurry, and seeming to be
+quite unconscious of the near neighbourhood of her master and his
+sister.
+
+"Hush, hush!" whispered Henry; "don't make a noise." And the two
+children trod softly and slowly towards the side of the yard where the
+bird was, as if they had been treading on eggs or groping through the
+dark and afraid of a post at every step. They thought that Maggy was
+not conscious of their approach; though Emily did not quite like the
+cunning way in which the bird laid her head on every side, as if the
+better to hear the sound.
+
+Once again Henry was at arm's length from her, and had even extended
+himself as far forward as he could, and stretched out his hand to catch
+her, when his foot slipped, and down he came at full length in the
+dust. At the same instant Maggy made a hop, and turned to look back at
+Henry from the very lowest edge of the thatch of the barn, or rather of
+a place where the roof of the barn was extended downwards over a low
+wood-house.
+
+Henry was up in a minute, not heeding the thick brown powder with which
+his face and hands and pinafore were covered; and Emily had scarcely
+come up to the place where he had fallen, before he was endeavouring to
+catch at the bird on the low ledge to which she had hopped.
+
+But Maggy had no mind to be thus caught; she had gotten her liberty,
+and she was disposed to keep it a little longer; and when she saw the
+hand near her, she made another hop, and appeared higher up on the
+slanting thatch.
+
+After some little talking over the matter, Henry proposed getting up
+the thatch; and how he managed to persuade Emily to do the same, or
+whether she did not want much persuasion, is not known; but this is
+very certain, that they both soon climbed upon this thatch, having
+found a ladder in the yard, which John used in some of his work, and
+having set it against the wood-house, and from the top of the
+wood-house made their way to the roof of the barn.
+
+"Now we shall have her!" cried Henry, as he made his way on his hands
+and knees along the sloping thatch; and again his hand was stretched
+out to seize the bird, when she made another upward hop, and was as far
+off as she had been when she sat on the edge of the thatch and he lay
+in the dust.
+
+"What a tiresome creature!" cried Henry.
+
+"I am sure she does it on purpose," said Emily, "only to vex us; and
+there she sits looking down upon us, and crying, 'Oh, pretty Mag!' I
+knew, when she was in the hut, that she was in a wicked humour."
+
+"Let us sit down here a little," said Henry, "and seem not to be
+thinking about her. Let us seem to be looking another way; perhaps she
+will then come near to us of her own accord."
+
+"We will try," replied Emily. And the children seated themselves
+quietly on the thatch; and if they had not been uneasy about the
+magpie, would never have been better pleased with their seats.
+
+But it might seem that Mag did not choose to be thus passed over, and
+not to have her friends busy and troubled about her; for as soon as
+Emily and Henry had planned not to notice her, and to seem to look
+another way, she began to cry in her usual croaking voice, "How do you
+do, sir? Good morning, sir! Oh, pretty Mag! Mag's hungry!"
+
+"What a tiresome bird it is," said Henry, impatiently. And Emily began
+to coax and invite her to come near, holding out her hand as if she had
+something in it.
+
+Mag was not a bit behind in returning Emily's empty compliments, for
+she hopped towards her, and very nearly within reach of her hand, still
+crying, "Good morning! Oh, pretty Mag!"
+
+Emily now thought she had her, and was putting out her arm to catch her
+when the bird turned swiftly round, and hopping up the thatch, took her
+station on the very point of the roof.
+
+Henry lost no time, but, turning on his hands and knees, crept up the
+slope of the roof, and was followed by his sister, who was quite as
+active as himself. They were not long in reaching the place where Mag
+was perched; but, before they could catch hold of her, she had walked
+down very leisurely on the other side, and hopped off into the field.
+Henry was after her, half sliding down the thatch, but Emily more
+wisely chose to go back by the wood-house as she had come, and in a
+very few minutes afterwards they were in the field. Henry had never
+lost sight of his bird since he had found her in the fold-yard; but he
+was none the nearer to catching her.
+
+She waited at a respectful distance till Emily came up; and then,
+between walking and hopping, made her way across the field, and perched
+herself on the upper bar of a gate.
+
+The children were now in serious trouble, because they were not
+suffered, when alone, to go beyond the bounds of the next field.
+
+Beyond the second field was the lane, into which they had followed the
+pig on that unfortunate day in which they had been left under the care
+of John; and if the magpie should go over into this lane, what could
+they do? They did wish to obey their parents this day.
+
+In order, however, to prevent this misfortune, Henry did the very worst
+thing he possibly could; he began to run and cry, "Mag! Mag!" with a
+raised voice, whilst the bird, as if resolved to torment him, hopped
+forward across the other field, perched herself on the stile, and, as
+he drew near, flew right down from thence into the lane.
+
+When Emily came up, there was poor Henry sitting across the stile in
+the greatest possible trouble, being more than half tempted to break
+bounds, and yet feeling that he ought not to do it. And there was Mag,
+walking up and down, pecking and picking, and wagging her tail; and
+now and then looking with one cunning eye towards her little master,
+as much as to say, "Why don't you come after me? Here I am."
+
+It is often by very small things that the strength of our resolutions
+to be good is tested.
+
+Henry was hardly tried, yet strength was given him to resist the
+temptation; and by Emily's persuasion he was induced to wait a little
+before he ventured to go down into the lane. And Mag seemed as well
+content to wait, or rather more so than he was.
+
+The children were in hopes that some one might come by who would help
+them in their distress. And they had not waited a minute before they
+could see two children just coming in sight, at the very farthest point
+where the lane was visible from the stile.
+
+These children were--a very ragged boy, without shoes, stockings, or
+hat, about nine or ten years of age, and a little girl, worse clothed,
+if possible, than himself, for her petticoat was all in fringes,
+showing her little legs above the ankle; they both looked miserably
+thin. Mag waited saucily till these had come nearly opposite the stile,
+and then only stepped aside; whilst Henry, calling to the boy, told him
+his trouble, pointing out the bird to him, and asking his help.
+
+The boy looked towards the bird, and then, turning cheerfully to Henry,
+he said:
+
+"Never fear, master, but I'll catch her for you;" and, dropping the
+hand of the little girl, he pulled off his ragged jacket, and crept
+towards Maggy.
+
+Cunning as the creature was, she did not understand that she had a
+deeper hand to deal with than that of her young master. She therefore
+let the boy come as near to her as she had let Henry do many times
+during the chase, and in this way she gave him the opportunity he was
+seeking of throwing his jacket over her, and seizing her as she lay
+under it.
+
+"He has her!" cried Emily and Henry at once, and the ragged little girl
+set up quite a shriek of joy.
+
+"Yes, I has her," added the boy; "but she pulls desperate hard, and
+would bite me, if she could, through the cloth. Suppose I wraps her in
+it, and carries her home for you, for we must not let her loose again.
+Hark! how she skirls, master and miss!"
+
+Henry and Emily approved of this scheme; the boy kept Maggy in the
+folds of the old jacket, and Emily helped the little girl to get over
+the stile; and the four children walked quickly towards the house. When
+they had crossed the two fields, Emily ran forward to fetch the cage,
+and the boy managed to get Mag into it without getting his fingers bit;
+after which Henry and Emily had leisure to ask the boy who he was, for
+they had never seen him before.
+
+He told them that his name was Edward, and that his little sister was
+called Jane, and that they had no father or mother, but lived with
+their grandmother in a cottage on the common, just by Sir Charles
+Noble's park; and that their grandmother was very bad, and could not
+work, but lay sick in bed; and that they were all half-starved, and he
+was come out to beg--"Miss and Master," added the boy, "for we could
+not starve, nor see granny dying of hunger."
+
+What a sad thing it is that stories of this kind are often told to
+deceive people, and get money out of them on false pretences! But Emily
+and Henry saw how thin and ragged these poor children were, and Emily
+thought of a plan of giving them a supper without taking what they gave
+from her father. So she proposed her scheme to Henry, and he said:
+
+"That will just do; I did not think of it."
+
+Emily then said to the children:
+
+"Sit down here; we will take naughty Mag into the house, and come back
+to you;" and she and Henry were off in a minute. They ran in to Betty,
+and asked her what she had for their supper. Betty was shelling peas in
+the kitchen, and she told them that she was going to cook them for her
+master and mistress; and she said:
+
+"I suppose, Miss Emily, you and your brother will sup with your parents
+to-night."
+
+"But, if you please, we would rather have our supper now," said Emily.
+
+"That we would," cried Henry; "so please, Betty, do give us something
+now."
+
+"Then you must not have a second supper, Master Henry," said Betty, "if
+I give you something to eat now."
+
+"Very well, Betty," replied both children at once; "but we would like
+it now, instead of waiting later for papa and mamma."
+
+So Betty gave each a currant turnover or puff, and a slice of bread and
+some milk.
+
+"May we take our supper out of doors, Betty?" said Emily.
+
+"If you please," replied Betty; and she put the turnovers, as she
+called the puffs, into a little basket, with two large slices of bread
+and two cans of milk, and put the basket into Emily's hands.
+
+"You have made beautiful ears and eyes to the turnovers, Betty," said
+Henry; "I always call them pigs when they are made in that way."
+
+"And they taste much better, don't they, Master Henry?" asked Betty.
+
+"To be sure they do," answered Henry, and away he walked after his
+sister.
+
+So Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little children; and they
+were very much pleased with them, because, when they had eaten part of
+the bread and drunk the milk, they asked leave to take what was left
+home to their grandmother.
+
+[Illustration: "_Emily and Henry gave their supper to the little
+children._"--Page 215.]
+
+Emily fetched them a piece of paper to wrap the puffs in, and then she
+and Henry watched them back into the lane, and afterwards walked
+quietly home, to be ready when their parents and Lucy should come back.
+
+[Illustration: "_The magpie on the stile._"--Page 209.]
+
+
+
+
+The Happy Evening
+
+[Illustration: Preparing the peas for supper]
+
+
+Henry had just finished washing his hands and combing his hair, and
+Emily had only that minute changed her pinafore, when the distant sound
+of the carriage was heard.
+
+Betty was preparing the peas for supper, and John laid the cloth, when
+Henry and Emily ran out upon the lawn.
+
+What a happy moment was that when the carriage stopped at the gate, and
+John opened the door and let down the step, and Lucy jumped out and ran
+to meet Emily and Henry. One would have thought that the children had
+been parted a year instead of a day.
+
+The chaise went on with Mrs. Goodriche, and all the family came into
+the parlour.
+
+"How nice the peas smell!" said Mr. Fairchild; "and I really want my
+supper."
+
+"So do I, papa," said Lucy.
+
+"And so do I," whispered Henry to Emily.
+
+"But you must not say so," returned Emily.
+
+"No, no," said Henry firmly; "I know _that_; we agreed about _that_
+before."
+
+John came in with a very large basket, well packed, out of the chaise;
+Lucy was running to begin to unpack it, when Mr. Fairchild said:
+
+"Let us have our supper first, dear child, and the basket shall be our
+dessert."
+
+"Very well, papa," answered Lucy, "so we will;" and her young heart was
+filled with joy on account of the things that were in it, though she
+did not know of one thing for herself.
+
+John came in with a nice smoking leg of lamb; and he then went out and
+brought some peas and young potatoes, to which he added a hot current
+and raspberry pie. Everybody sat down; Mr. Fairchild said grace, and
+began to help those at the table from the lamb, whilst Mrs. Fairchild
+served the peas. Lucy being helped, Mr. Fairchild said to Emily:
+
+"Are you very hungry, my dear? Shall I give you much or little?"
+
+"None, thank you, papa," was the answer.
+
+"A few peas, my dear, then?" said her mother.
+
+"None, thank you, mamma," replied Emily.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild offered potatoes or tart.
+
+"None, thank you, mamma," was Emily's answer to every offer.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild seemed rather surprised, but was still more so when
+Henry, who was always provided with a good appetite, gave exactly the
+same answers which Emily had done. She supposed, however, that the
+children had supped already, and said:
+
+"What did Betty give you, my dears?"
+
+Emily told her mother, but coloured very much while speaking, and
+there was something their parents thought rather odd in both their
+faces.
+
+"What is it?" said Mr. Fairchild; "there is some little mystery here;
+let us hear it. What has happened? I trust that you have not been
+playing in the sun and made yourselves unwell."
+
+"No, papa," replied Henry, "we are not"--he was going to say hungry,
+but that would not have been true. "We are not--we do not--we do not
+wish for any supper; do we, Emily?"
+
+"What!" said Mr. Fairchild, with a smile, and yet at the same time a
+little alarmed--"what! did you and Emily talk the affair over before,
+and agree together that you would not have any supper with us?"
+
+"We did, papa," replied Henry bravely, "and when the things are taken
+away we will tell you all about it."
+
+"I do beg," said Mr. Fairchild, "that you will tell us all about it,
+even before we begin to eat; for there is your mamma looking anxious;
+Emily looking ready to cry, and Lucy, too, with her. What is this great
+secret?"
+
+"I will tell you, papa," said Henry, getting up, and walking round to
+his father's knee. "I opened the door, papa," he said; "it was not
+Emily's fault, she told me not to do it--and then she came out--and she
+went to the top of the barn, and we went after her--and she chattered
+to us--and then she went, and then we came after her--and then she sat
+on the gate, and went on and came to the stile, talking all the way,
+almost as if she had been making game of us. Did she not, Emily?"
+
+"Really, my dear boy," replied Mr. Fairchild, forcing himself to smile,
+"you must try to make your story plainer, or we shall be more in the
+dark at the end of it than we were at the beginning. All I now
+understand is, that you and Emily climbed over the roof of the barn
+after somebody. Well, and I hope you got no fall in this strange
+exploit?"
+
+"You are not angry, papa?" said Lucy. "Henry has often been on the
+thatch of the barn and never got hurt."
+
+"I did not say I was angry, my dear," replied Mr. Fairchild. "I might
+say that it was neither safe nor prudent for little girls to scramble
+up such places, and I might say, do not try these things again; but if
+no harm was intended, why was I to be angry? But I must hear a more
+straightforward story than Henry has told me; he has not given me the
+name of the person who went chattering before him and Emily; was it a
+fairy, a little spiteful fairy, Emily? Did you let her out of a box, as
+the princess did in the fairytale? And what has all this to do with
+your refusing your suppers? Come, Emily, let us hear your account of
+this affair."
+
+Poor Emily had been sadly put out by all that had passed between Henry
+and her father; and she, therefore, looked very red when she began her
+story. But she got courage as she went on, and told it all, just as it
+is related in the last chapter; only she passed slightly over the
+wilfulness which her brother had shown in opening the cage door. She
+finished by saying, that as they had given away their suppers, they had
+agreed together not to eat another; "and we settled not to tell our
+reasons till the things were taken away."
+
+"Yes, papa," added Henry, "we did."
+
+"And this is all, my Emily?" said Mrs. Fairchild. "I will own that I
+was fearful there was something much amiss;" and she put out her hand
+to her little girl and boy, and having kissed them, she added, "Now, my
+children, sit down and eat."
+
+"And we will all sup together," cried Lucy, with her brightest,
+happiest smile, "and afterwards open the basket."
+
+"And I will do more than give each of you a slice of lamb," said Mr.
+Fairchild. "I am going to-morrow to pay a visit to Mr. Darwell; I have
+put this visit off too long; and I will call on Mr. Burke, Sir Charles
+Noble's steward, and inquire about these poor people. What is the name
+of the old woman, my dears?"
+
+"Edward, papa," cried Henry.
+
+"Edward," said Emily, "is the boy's name, not the old woman's--we did
+not ask her name."
+
+"I thought that was likely," answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling. "Well,
+Henry, I will tell you what must be done--you must be ready at six
+o'clock to-morrow morning, and we will walk, whilst it is cool, to Mr.
+Burke's, and get our breakfast there, and you must help us to find
+these poor people."
+
+"Oh, papa!" said Henry: he could not say another word for joy.
+
+After supper, and when everything but the candles was cleared from the
+table, the basket was set on it, and Mrs. Fairchild began to unpack it.
+First she took out a number of parcels of rice, and sugar, and pepper,
+and mustard, and such things as children do not care to see. These were
+put aside, and then came a smooth long parcel, which she opened; it
+contained a piece of very nice muslin to make Lucy and Emily best
+frocks.
+
+There was no harm in the little girls being very pleased at the sight
+of this; they had been taught to be thankful for every good and useful
+thing provided for them. These, too, were put aside; and next came a
+larger parcel, tied up in a paper with care, and the name of "Lucy,
+from Mrs. Goodriche," written upon it. It was handed to Lucy; she did
+not expect it, and her hands quite shook while she untied the string.
+It contained a beautiful doll, the size of Emily's famous doll; and I
+could not say which of the two little sisters was most delighted. The
+two largest parcels were at the bottom of the basket, and came last;
+one was directed with a pencil by Lucy to Emily, and the other to
+Henry; and when these were opened it was found out that Lucy had spent
+all her own money to make these parcels richer. Each contained a
+beautiful book with many pictures; and in Emily's parcel were a pair of
+scissors for doll's work, and needles and cotton, and lots of bright
+penny ribbon, and a bundle of ends of bright chintz for dolls' frocks.
+They were the very things that would please Emily most, and, as she
+said, would help so nicely to dress Lucy's doll.
+
+Henry, besides his book, had a large rough knife, a ball of string, an
+awl, a little nail-passer, a paper of tacks, and some other little
+things which happened to be just what he wanted most of all things in
+the world, for he was always making things in wood.
+
+Well, that was a happy evening indeed; it had been a happy day, only
+Mag had given some trouble; but, as Emily said, "Even Mag's mischief
+had turned out for some good, because the poor little children had got
+a supper by it."
+
+The next day was almost, if not quite, as pleasant as the day before.
+Henry was out with his father; and Lucy and Emily had all the day given
+to them for dressing the new doll and settling her name; so they called
+her Amelia, after Mrs. Howard.
+
+
+
+
+Breakfast at Mr. Burke's
+
+[Illustration: A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering]
+
+
+We will leave Lucy and Emily making their doll's clothes, and go with
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry.
+
+They were off by six o'clock in the morning for the Park. Sir Charles
+Noble's place was about two miles from Mr. Fairchild's house, but Mr.
+Burke, the steward, lived as much as half a mile nearer, on Mr.
+Fairchild's side, so that Henry had not two miles to walk, for his
+father was to leave him at Mr. Burke's, whilst he went on to pay his
+visit to Mr. Darwell.
+
+The first part of their walk lay along a lane, deeply shaded on one
+side by a very deep dark wood--it was Blackwood.
+
+Henry saw the chimneys of the old house just rising above the trees;
+they were built of brick, and looked as if several of them had been
+twisted round each other, as the threads of thick twine are twisted;
+they looked quite black, and parts of them had fallen.
+
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry next crossed the corner of a common, where they
+saw several huts built of clay, with one brick chimney each, and very
+ragged thatch; and going a little farther, they saw Mr. Burke's house
+before them. It was a large farmhouse, with a square court before it,
+and behind it a quantity of buildings and many ricks. Mr. Burke was the
+steward of the estate, and he was also a farmer, and he was reckoned to
+be a rich man; but he and his wife were very plain sort of people, and
+though they had got up in the world, they carried with them all their
+old-fashioned ways.
+
+They had eight children; the eldest was in his sixteenth year, the
+youngest between two and three. There were four boys and four girls,
+and they had come in turns; first a boy, and then a girl, and so on.
+The three elder boys and the three elder girls went to boarding-schools;
+but it was holiday time, and they were all at home.
+
+There was no sign about the old people themselves of being rich,
+excepting that they had both grown very stout; but they were hearty and
+cheerful.
+
+Mr. Burke spied Mr. Fairchild before he got to the house, and called to
+welcome him over a hedge, saying:
+
+"You have done right to take the cool of the morning; and you and the
+little gentleman there, I dare say, are ready for your breakfasts. Go
+on, Mr. Fairchild, and I will be with you before you get to the house."
+
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry crossed the fold-yard, and coming into the
+yard, which was surrounded by a low wall, with a paling at the top of
+it, they saw Mrs. Burke standing on the kitchen steps, and feeding an
+immense quantity of poultry of all sorts and kinds. She called to
+welcome her visitors; but though she spoke in a high key, it was
+impossible to hear a word she said for the noise made by the geese,
+ducks, hens, turkeys, and guinea-fowl--all crowding forward for their
+food. Besides which, there was a huge dog, chained to a kennel, which
+set up a tremendous barking; and, before he could be stopped, was
+joined by other dogs of divers sorts and sizes, which came running into
+the yard, setting up their throats all in different keys. They did not,
+however, attempt to do more than bark and yelp at Henry and his father.
+
+"Come in, come in, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Burke, when they could get
+near to her through the crowd of living things; "come in, the tea is
+brewing; and you must be very thirsty." And she took up an end of her
+white apron and wiped her brow, remarking that it was wonderful fine
+weather for the corn.
+
+Mr. Fairchild and Henry followed Mrs. Burke through an immense kitchen
+into a parlour beyond, which was nothing in size compared to the
+kitchen; and there was a long table set out for breakfast.
+
+The table was covered with good things; a large pasty, which had been
+cut; a ham, from which many a good slice had already been taken; a pot
+of jam, another of honey; brown and white loaves; cream and butter and
+fruit; and the tea, too, was brewing, and smelt deliciously.
+
+Mr. Burke followed them in almost immediately, and shook Mr. Fairchild
+by the hand; complimenting Henry by laying his large rough hand on his
+head, and saying:
+
+"You are ready for your breakfast, I doubt not, little master;" adding,
+"Come, mistress, tap your barrel. But where are the youngsters?" He had
+hardly spoken, when a tall girl, very smartly dressed, though with her
+hair in papers, looked in at the door, and ran off again when she saw
+Mr. Fairchild.
+
+Her father called after her:
+
+"Judy, I say, why don't you come in?" But Miss Judy was gone to take
+the papers out of her hair.
+
+The next who appeared was little Miss Jane, the mother's pet, because
+she was the youngest. She came squalling in to tell her mother that
+Dick had scratched her, though she could not show the scratch; and
+there was no peace until she was set on a high chair by her mother, and
+supplied with a piece of sugared bread-and-butter.
+
+A great sturdy boy in petticoats, of about four years old, followed
+little Miss Jane, roaring and blubbering because Jane had pinched him
+in return for the scratch; but Mrs. Burke managed to settle him also
+with a piece of ham, which he ate without bread--fat and all. Dicky was
+presently followed into the room by the three elder boys, James,
+William, and Tom. Being admonished by their father, they gave Mr.
+Fairchild something between a bow and a nod. James's compliment might
+have been called a bow; William's was half one and half the other; and
+Tom's was nothing more than a nod. These boys were soon seated, and
+began to fill their plates from every dish near to them.
+
+Mrs. Burke asked James if he knew where his sisters were; and Tom
+answered:
+
+"Why, at the glass to be sure, taking the papers out of their hair."
+
+"What's that you say, Tom?" was heard at that instant from someone
+coming into the parlour. It was Miss Judy, and she was followed by Miss
+Mary and Miss Elizabeth.
+
+These three paid their compliments to Mr. Fairchild somewhat more
+properly than their brothers had done; and in a very few minutes all
+the family were seated, and all the young ones engaged with their
+breakfasts.
+
+It was Mr. Fairchild's custom always, when he had business to do, to
+take the first opportunity of forwarding it: so he did not lose this
+opportunity, but told his reasons for begging a breakfast that morning
+from Mrs. Burke.
+
+Mr. Burke entered kindly into what his neighbour said, and had no
+difficulty, though the surname was not known, in finding out who the
+grandmother of Edward and Jane was.
+
+He told Mr. Fairchild that she bore a good character--had suffered many
+afflictions--and, if she were ill, must be in great need. It was then
+settled that as he was going in his little gig that morning to the
+park, Mr. Fairchild should go with him; that they should go round over
+the common to see the old woman, who did not live very near to the
+farm, and that Henry should be left under Mrs. Burke's care, as the gig
+would only carry two persons.
+
+When Mr. Burke said the gig would only hold two, James looked up from
+his plate, and said:
+
+"I only wish that it would break down the very first time you and
+mother get into it."
+
+"Thank you, Jem, for your good wishes," said Mr. Burke.
+
+"For shame, Jem!" cried Miss Judy.
+
+"I don't mean that I wish you and mother to be hurt," answered the
+youth; "but the gig is not fit for such a one as you to go in. I
+declare I am ashamed of it every time you come in sight of our
+playground in it; the boys have so much to say about it."
+
+"Well, well, Jem!" said Miss Judy.
+
+"Well, well, Jem!" repeated the youth; "it is always 'Well, well!' or
+'Oh fie, Jem!' but you know, Judy, that you told me that your governess
+herself said that father ought to have a new carriage."
+
+"I don't deny that, Jem," said Judy; "Miss Killigrew knows that father
+could afford a genteel carriage, and she thinks that he ought to get
+one for the respectability of the family."
+
+"Who cares what Miss Killigrew thinks?" asked Tom.
+
+"I do," replied Judy; "Miss Killigrew is a very genteel, elegant
+woman, and knows what's proper; and, as she says, has the good of the
+family at heart."
+
+"Nonsense!" replied James; "the good of the family! you mean her own
+good, and her own respectability. She would like to see a fine carriage
+at her door, to make her look genteel; how can you be bamboozled with
+such stuff, Judy?"
+
+Mr. Burke seemed to sit uneasily whilst his children were going on in
+this way. He was thinking how all this would appear before Mr.
+Fairchild--that is, he was listening for the moment with Mr.
+Fairchild's ears.
+
+When we keep low company we are apt to listen with their ears; and when
+we get into good company we do the same: we think how this will sound,
+and that will sound to them, and we are shocked for them, at things
+which at another time we should not heed; this is one way in which we
+are hurt by bad company, and improved by good.
+
+Mr. Burke had never thought his children so ill-bred as when he heard
+them, that morning, with Mr. Fairchild's ears; and as he was afraid of
+making things worse by checking them, he invited him to walk out with
+him, after he saw that he had done his breakfast, to look at a famous
+field of corn near the house.
+
+When this had been visited the gig was ready, and they set out, leaving
+Henry at the farm; and it was very good for Henry to be left, for he
+had an opportunity of seeing more that morning than he had ever yet
+seen of the sad effects of young people being left to take their own
+way.
+
+
+
+
+The Unruly Family
+
+[Illustration: They had a game at marbles]
+
+
+After Mr. Fairchild was gone out with Mr. Burke, the young people, who
+still sat round the table, all began to speak and make a noise at once.
+The two youngest were crying for sugar, or ham, or more butter. Tom was
+screaming every moment, "I am going to the river a-fishing--who comes
+with me?" looking at the same time daringly at his mother, and
+expecting her to say, "No, Tom; you know _that_ is forbidden;" for the
+river was very dangerous for anglers, and Mr. Burke had given his
+orders that his boys should never go down to it unless he was with
+them.
+
+James and Judy were squabbling sharply and loudly about Miss Killigrew
+and her gentility; William, in a quieter way, and with a quiet face,
+was, from time to time, giving his sister Mary's hair a violent pull,
+causing her to scream and look about her for her tormenter each time;
+and Elizabeth was balancing a spoon on the edge of her cup, and letting
+it fall with a clatter every moment. Children never mind
+noise--indeed, they rather like it; and, if the truth must be told,
+Henry was beginning to think that it would not be unpleasant if his
+father would let him and his sisters have their own ways, as these
+children of Mr. Burke seemed to have, at least on holidays and after
+lesson hours.
+
+When Miss Jane's mouth was well filled with jam, and Dick's with fat
+meat, Tom's voice was heard above the rest; he was still crying, "I am
+going a-fishing; who will come with me?" his large eyes being fixed on
+his mother, as if to provoke her to speak.
+
+"You are not going to do any such thing, Tom," she at length said; "I
+shall not allow it."
+
+Tom looked as if he would have said, "How can you help it, mother?" but
+he had not time to say it, had he wished; for Miss Judy, who had a
+great notion of managing her brothers, took him up, and said:
+
+"I wonder at you, Tom. How often have you been told that you are not to
+go down to fish in the river?"
+
+"Pray, miss, who made you my governess? If it's only to vex you, I will
+go to the river--if I don't fish I will bathe. Will that please you
+better?"
+
+Henry Fairchild could not make out exactly what was said next, because
+three or four people spoke at once in answer to Tom's last words, and
+as all of them spoke as loud as they could in order to be heard, as
+always happens in these cases, no two words could be made out clearly.
+But Henry perceived that Tom gave word for word to his sisters, and
+was, as he would himself have said, "quite even with them." After a
+little while, James, at the whisper of his mother, cried, "Nonsense,
+nonsense! no more of this;" and taking Tom by the arm, lugged him out
+of the room by main force; whilst the youngster struggled and tugged
+and caught at everything as he was forced along, the noise continuing
+till the two brothers were fairly out of the house.
+
+[Illustration: "_The noise continued till the two brothers were fairly
+out of the house._"--Page 230.]
+
+Mrs. Burke then turned to Henry; and thinking, perhaps, that some
+excuse for her boy's behaviour was necessary, she said:
+
+"It is all play, Master Fairchild. Tom is a good boy, but he loves a
+little harmless mischief; he has no more notion of going down to the
+river than I have."
+
+"La, mother," said Miss Judy, "that is what you always say, though you
+know the contrary; Tom is the very rudest boy in the whole country, and
+known to be so."
+
+"Come with me, Master Fairchild," said William, in a low voice to
+Henry, "come with me. Now Judy is got on her hobby-horse, she will take
+a long ride."
+
+"What is my hobby-horse, Master William?" said Judy sharply.
+
+"Abusing your brothers, Miss Judy," replied William.
+
+She set up her lip and turned away, as if she did not think it worth
+while to answer him, for he was younger than herself; but the next
+sister took up the battle, and said something so sharp and tart, that
+even William, the quietest of the family, gave her a very rude and
+cutting answer. Henry did not understand what he said, but he was not
+sorry when Mrs. Burke told him that he had better go out with William
+and see what was to be seen.
+
+William led Henry right through the kitchen and court into the
+fold-yard: it was a very large yard, surrounded on three sides by
+buildings, stables, and store-houses, and cattle-sheds and stalls. In
+the midst of it was a quantity of manure, all wet and sloppy, and upon
+the very top of this heap stood that charming boy, Master Tom, with his
+shoes and stockings all covered with mire.
+
+On one side of the yard stood James, talking to a boy in a labourer's
+frock. These last were very busy with their own talk, and paid no
+heed to Tom, who kept calling to them.
+
+"You said," he cried, "that I could not get here--and here I am, do you
+see, safe and sound?"
+
+"And I do not care how long you stay there," at length answered the
+eldest brother; "we should be free from one plague for the time at
+least."
+
+"That time, then, shall not be long," answered Tom, "for I am coming."
+
+"Stop him! stop him!" cried James. "Here, Will--and you, Hodge,"
+speaking to the young carter, "have at him, he shan't come out so soon
+as he wishes;" and giving a whoop and a shout, the three boys, James,
+William, and Hodge, set to to drive Tom back again whenever he
+attempted to get out of the heap of mire upon the dry ground.
+
+There were three against one, and Tom had the disadvantage of very
+slippery footing, so that he was constantly driven back at every
+attempt, and so very roughly too, that he was thrown down more than
+once; but he fell on soft ground, and got no harm beyond being covered
+with mire from head to foot.
+
+The whole yard rang with the shouts and screams of the boys; and this
+might have lasted much longer if an old labouring servant had not come
+into the yard, and insisted that there was enough of it, driving Hodge
+away, and crying shame on his young masters. When Tom was let loose, he
+walked away into the house, as Henry supposed, to get himself washed;
+and James and William, being very hot, called Henry to go with them
+across the field into the barn, in one corner of which they had a
+litter of puppies. They were a long time in this barn, for after they
+had looked at the puppies they had a game at marbles, and Henry was
+much amused.
+
+William Burke was generally the quietest of the family, and almost all
+strangers liked him best; but he had his particular tempers, and as
+those tempers were never kept under by his parents, when they broke out
+they were very bad. James did something in the game which he did not
+think fair, so he got up from the ground where they were sitting or
+kneeling to play, kicked the marbles from him, told his brother that he
+was cheating, in so many plain words, and was walking quietly away,
+when James followed him, and seized his arm to pull him back.
+
+William resisted, and then the brothers began to wrestle; and from
+wrestling half playfully, they went on to wrestle in earnest. One gave
+the other a chance blow, and the other returned an intended one, and
+then they fought in good earnest, and did not stop till William had got
+a bloody nose; and perhaps they might not have stopped then, if Henry
+Fairchild had not begun to cry, running in between them, and begging
+them not to hurt each other any more.
+
+"Poor child!" cried James, as he drew back from William, "don't you
+know that we were only in play? Did you never see two boys playing
+before?"
+
+"Not in that way," replied Henry.
+
+"That is because you have no brother," answered James. "It is a sad
+thing for a boy not to have a brother."
+
+They all then left the barn, and William went to wash his nose at the
+pump.
+
+Whilst he was doing this, James turned over an empty trough which lay
+in the shade of one of the buildings in the fold-yard, and he and Henry
+sat down upon it; William soon came down to them. He had washed away
+the blood, and he looked so sulky, that anyone might have seen that he
+would have opened out the quarrel again with James had not Henry
+Fairchild been present; for, though he did not care for the little boy,
+yet he did not wish that he should give him a bad name to his father.
+
+Henry Fairchild was learning the best lesson he had ever had in his
+life amongst the unruly children of Mr. Burke; but this lesson was not
+to be learned only by his ears and eyes; it would not have been enough
+for him to have seen Tom soused in the mire, or William with his bloody
+nose; his very bones were to suffer in the acquirement of it, and he
+was to get such a fright as he had never known before.
+
+But before the second part of his adventures that morning is related,
+it will be as well to say, in this place, that Mr. Fairchild was taken
+first by Mr. Burke to the poor widow's cottage, where he found her
+almost crippled with rheumatism. She had parted with much of her
+furniture and clothes to feed the poor children, but was gentle and did
+not complain.
+
+From the cottage Mr. Burke drove Mr. Fairchild to the park, and there
+Mr. Fairchild had an opportunity of speaking of the poor grandmother
+and the little children to Mr. and Mrs. Darwell.
+
+Mr. Darwell said that if the cottage required repair, Mr. Burke must
+look after it, and then speak to him, as the affair was not his, as he
+was only Sir Charles Noble's tenant.
+
+Mrs. Darwell seemed to Mr. Fairchild to be a very fine lady, and one
+who did not trouble herself about the concerns of the poor; but there
+was one in the room who heard every word which Mr. Fairchild said, and
+heard it attentively.
+
+This was little Miss Darwell. She was seated on a sofa, with a piece of
+delicate work in her hand; she was dressed in the most costly manner,
+and she looked as fair and almost as quiet as a waxen doll.
+
+Who can guess what was going on in her mind whilst she was listening to
+the history of the poor grandmother and her little ones?
+
+Miss Darwell, in one way, was as much indulged as Mr. Burke's children,
+but of course she was not allowed to be rude and vulgar; therefore, if
+her manners were better than those of the little Burkes, it was only
+what might be expected; but, happily for her, she had been provided
+with a truly pious and otherwise a very excellent governess, a widow
+lady, of the name of Colvin; but Mrs. Colvin seldom appeared in the
+drawing-room.
+
+Mr. Darwell was proud of his little girl; he thought her very pretty
+and very elegant, and he wanted to show her off before Mr. Fairchild,
+who he knew had some little girls of his own; so before Mr. Fairchild
+took leave, he called her to him, and said:
+
+"Ellen, my dear, speak to this gentleman, and tell him that you should
+be glad to see his daughters, the Misses Fairchild; they are about your
+age, and, as I am told, are such ladies as would please you to be
+acquainted with."
+
+The little lady rose immediately, and came forward; she gave her hand
+to Mr. Fairchild, and turning to her father:
+
+"May I," she said, "ask the Misses Fairchild to come to my feast upon
+my birthday?"
+
+"You may, my love," was the answer.
+
+"Then I will write a note," she said; and Mr. Fairchild saw that the
+pretty waxen doll could sparkle and blush, and look as happy as his own
+children often did.
+
+She ran out of the room, and a minute afterwards came back with a neat
+little packet in her hand. There was more in it than a note, but she
+asked Mr. Fairchild to put it into his pocket, and not look at it.
+
+Mr. Fairchild smiled and thanked her, and at that very moment other
+morning visitors were brought in, and took up the attention of Mr. and
+Mrs. Darwell.
+
+Mr. Fairchild was rising, when the little girl, bending forward to him,
+said in a low voice:
+
+"I heard what you said, sir, about those poor little children, and I
+will try to help them."
+
+How pleasant was it to Mr. Fairchild to hear those words from that fair
+little lady! And he came away quite delighted with her, and pleased
+with Mr. Darwell.
+
+He found Mr. Burke in his gig at the gates, with the horse's head
+turned towards home.
+
+As they were driving back, Mr. Fairchild spoke of Miss Darwell, and
+said how very much he had been pleased with her.
+
+Mr. Burke said that "she was a wonder of a child, considering how she
+was indulged, and that she seemed to have no greater pleasure than in
+doing good to the poor, especially to the children." They then talked
+of the old woman.
+
+Mr. Burke said he would, on his own responsibility, have the cottage
+put to rights. "It should have been done before," he added. "And I will
+see that she receives some help from the parish for the children; she
+has had a little for herself all along. And my wife shall send her some
+soup, and, may be, I could find something for Edward to do, if it be
+but to frighten away the birds from the crops; so let that matter
+trouble you no more, Mr. Fairchild."
+
+
+
+
+Story of Henry's Adventure
+
+[Illustration: Kind Mrs. Burke gave him a piece of bread and honey]
+
+
+Henry Fairchild sat with William and James Burke for some time under
+the shade of the building, and had the pleasure of hearing the two
+brothers sparring on each side of him, though they did not come to
+blows again. Whatever one said the other contradicted; if one said such
+a thing _is_, the other said, "I am sure it is _not_;" or, "There you
+go--that's just you." "Nonsense" was a favourite word of James's.
+"Nonsense, Will," was his constant answer to everything his brother
+proposed; and they used many words which Henry did not understand.
+
+All this time Tom did not appear, and his brothers did not seem to
+think about him.
+
+After a while William said:
+
+"Let us go into the cornfield, and see what the men are about; this
+yard is very dull."
+
+"No," said James, "let us show Master Fairchild the young bull."
+
+"No! no!" cried Henry, "I do not want to see it."
+
+Both the boys laughed outright at Henry's cry of "I do not want to see
+it;" and then they assured him that the creature was well tied up--he
+was in the cattle stall, just opposite to them, and could not hurt
+them; and they laughed again till Henry was ashamed, and said that he
+would go with them to look at him.
+
+The cattle stall was a long, low, and narrow building, which ran one
+whole side of the yard. At some seasons it was filled with cattle, each
+one having a separate stall, and being tied in it, but at this time
+there was no creature in it but this bull.
+
+Now it must be told that, whilst the boys were in the barn, and just
+about the time in which James and William had been scuffling with each
+other and making much noise, Tom, who had not yet taken the trouble to
+wash himself, had got to the top of the cattle shed, and had been
+amusing himself by provoking the bull through an air-hole in the roof.
+
+First he had thrown down on his head a quantity of house-leek which
+grew on the tiles, and then he had poked at him with a stick till the
+creature got furious and began to beat about him, and at length to set
+up a terrible bellowing.
+
+Tom knew well that he should get into trouble if it was found out that
+he had been provoking the creature; so down he slipped, and was off in
+another direction in a few minutes.
+
+The labourers were all in the field, and Henry and his companions were
+in the barn, so that no one heard distinctly the bellowing of the bull
+but the girl in the dairy, and she had been too long accustomed to the
+noises of a farm to give it a second thought. The animal, however, was
+so furious that he broke his fastenings, snapping the ropes, and coming
+out of the stall, and even trying to force the door of the shed; but
+in this he failed, as there was a wooden bar across it on the outside.
+After a little while he ceased to bellow, so no one was aware of the
+mischief which had been done, and no one suspected that the bull was
+loose.
+
+James walked first to the door of the cattle shed, William came next,
+and afterwards Henry.
+
+James did not find it easy to move the bar, so he called William to
+help him. The reason why it was hard to move was, that the head of the
+bull was against the door, and he was pressing it on the bar; the
+moment the bar was removed, the bull's head forced open the door, and
+there stood the sullen frowning creature in the very face of poor
+Henry, with nothing between them but a few yards of the court. The
+other two boys were, by the sudden opening of the door, forced behind
+it, so that the bull only saw Henry; but Henry did not stay to look at
+his fiery eyes, or to observe the temper in which he lowered his
+terrible head to the ground and came forward.
+
+"Run, run for your life!" cried William and James, from behind the
+door; and Henry did run, and the bull after him, bellowing and tearing
+up the ground before him; and he came on fast, but Henry had got the
+start of a few yards, and that start saved his life. Still he ran, the
+bull following after. Henry had not waited to consider which way he
+ran. He had taken his way in the direction of a lane which ran out of
+the yard; the gate was open--he flew through--the terrible beast was
+after him--he could hear his steps and his deep snortings and puffings;
+in another minute he would have reached Henry, and would probably have
+gored him to death, when all at once every dog about the farm, first
+called and then urged on by William and James, came barking and yelping
+in full cry on the heels of the bull.
+
+The leader of these was a bulldog of the true breed, and though young,
+had all his teeth in their full strength. Behind him came dogs of every
+kind which is common in this country, and if they could do little else,
+they could bay and yelp, and thus puzzle and perplex the bull.
+
+James and William, each with a stick in their hands, were behind them,
+urging them on, calling for help, and putting themselves to great
+danger for the sake of Henry. Tom was not there to see the mischief he
+had wrought.
+
+Another moment, and the bull would have been up with Henry, when he
+found himself bitten in the flank by the sharp fangs of Fury meeting in
+his flesh. The animal instantly turned upon the dog; most horribly did
+he bellow, and poor Henry then indeed felt that his last moment was
+come.
+
+The noises were becoming more dreadful every instant; the men came
+running from the fields, pouring into the lane from all sides: the
+women and girls from the house were shrieking over the low wall from
+the bottom of the court, so that the noise might be heard a mile
+distant.
+
+Henry Fairchild never looked back, but ran on as fast as he possibly
+could, till, after a little while, seeing a stile on his left hand, he
+sprang up to it, tumbled over in his haste, fell headlong on the
+new-shorn grass, and would have gotten no hurt whatever, had not his
+nose and his upper lip made too free with a good-sized stone. Henry's
+nose and lip being softer than the stone, they of course had the worst
+of it in the encounter.
+
+A very few minutes afterwards, but before the labourers had got the
+bull back into its place, which was no easy matter, one of the men,
+running from a distant field towards the noise, found poor Henry, took
+him up far more easily than he would have taken up a bag of meal, and
+carried him, all bloody as he was, to the mistress, by a short cut
+through the garden.
+
+Henry's nose had bled, and was still bleeding, when the man brought him
+to the house; but no one even thought of him till the fierce bull was
+safe within four walls. But it had been a dangerous affair, as the men
+said, "to get _that_ job done;" nor was it done till both Fury and the
+bull were covered with foam and blood.
+
+When everything was quiet in and about the yard, Mrs. Burke began to
+look up, not only her own children, but all the careless young people
+about.
+
+"Where is Tom?" was the mother's first cry. Dick and Jane had made her
+know that they were not far off, by the noise they were both making.
+
+"Tom is quite safe," replied someone.
+
+"And Master Fairchild?" said Mrs. Burke.
+
+Every one then ran different ways to look for Henry, and when he was
+found, all covered in blood, in the kitchen, Mrs. Burke was, as she
+said, ready to faint away. Everybody, however, was glad when they found
+no harm was done to the child, beyond a bloody nose and a lip swelled
+to a monstrous size. Kind Mrs. Burke herself took him up to her boys'
+room, where she washed him and made him dress himself in a complete
+suit of Tom's, engaging to get his own things washed and cleaned for
+him in a few hours.
+
+She then brought him down into the parlour, set him on the sofa, gave
+him a piece of bread and honey, and begged him not to stir from thence
+till his father returned; nor had Henry any wish to disobey her.
+
+Henry was hardly seated on the couch with his bread and honey in his
+hand, when first one and then another of the children came in: the last
+who came was James, lugging in Tom.
+
+Now, it is very certain that Tom stood even in more need of a scouring
+and clean clothes than Henry had done; for he had not used water nor
+changed his clothes since he had been rolled by his brothers in the mud
+in the yard. This mud had dried upon him, and no one who did not expect
+to see him could possibly have known him. He was lugged by main force
+into the parlour, though he kicked and struggled, and held on upon
+everything within his reach. He came in as he had gone out; but when he
+was fairly in, he became quite still, and stood sulking.
+
+"I'll tell you what, mother," said James, "you may thank Tom for all
+the mischief--and he knows it."
+
+"Knows what?"
+
+"That it was through him the bull got loose, and that poor Fury is
+nearly killed."
+
+"I am sure it was not," answered Tom.
+
+"I say it was," replied James; and then all the brothers and sisters
+began to speak at once.
+
+_Judy._ "Just like you, Tom."
+
+_Mary._ "And see what a condition he is in."
+
+_William._ "You know Hodge saw you, Tom, on the top of the shed."
+
+_Tom._ "I am sure he did not."
+
+_Elizabeth._ "What a dirty creature you are, Tom; and how you smell of
+the stable!"
+
+_Jane._ "Mother! mother! I want some bread and honey, like Master
+Fairchild."
+
+_Dick._ "I want a sop in the pan, mother--mayn't I have a sop?"
+
+In the midst of all this noise and confusion, in walked Mr. Fairchild
+and Mr. Burke. The men in the yard had told them of what had happened;
+and it had been made plain to Mr. Burke that Tom had been at the bottom
+of the mischief.
+
+Mr. Fairchild hastened in all anxiety to his poor boy; and was full of
+thankfulness to God for having saved him from the dreadful danger which
+had threatened him; and Mr. Burke began to speak to his son Tom with
+more severity than he often used. He even called for a cane, and said
+he would give it him soundly, and at that minute too; but Mrs. Burke
+stepped in and begged him off; and as she stood between him and his
+father he slunk away, and kept out of his sight as long as Henry and
+Mr. Fairchild stayed.
+
+If Tom never came within sight of his father all the rest of that day,
+Henry never once went out of the reach of his father's eye.
+
+After dinner and tea, Henry was again dressed in his own clothes, which
+Mrs. Burke had got washed and cleaned for him, and in the cool of the
+evening he walked quietly home with his father.
+
+"Oh, papa!" said Henry, when they came again under the shade of
+Blackwood, "I do not now wish to have my own way, as I did this
+morning, I am now quite sure that it does not make people happy to have
+it."
+
+"Then, my boy," replied Mr. Fairchild, "you have learned a very good
+lesson to-day, and I trust that you will never forget it."
+
+
+
+
+The Story in Emily's Book. Part I.
+
+[Illustration: Lucy and Emily had now each a doll]
+
+
+The little books brought by Lucy were not even looked at until the
+evening came which was to be given up to reading the first of them.
+Henry had begged that his book might be read last, because he said that
+he should be sure to like it best; so Emily's was to afford the
+amusement for the first evening.
+
+Mr. Fairchild gave notice in the morning of his being able to give up
+that evening to this pleasure; not that he wished to hear the story,
+but that he meant to be of the party, and the root-house in the wood
+was the place chosen.
+
+Lucy and Emily had now each a doll to take, and there was some bustle
+to get them ready after lessons.
+
+Henry took his knife and some little bits of wood to cut and carve
+whilst the reading was going on; Mrs. Fairchild took her needlework;
+and there was a basket containing nice white cakes of bread made for
+the purpose, a little fruit, a bottle of milk, and a cup. The little
+ones, by turns, were to carry this basket between them. Mr. Fairchild
+took a book to please himself; and at four o'clock they set out.
+
+When they all got to the hut they were soon all settled. There were
+seats in the hut; Henry took the lowest of them. Mrs. Fairchild took
+out her work; Mr. Fairchild stretched himself on the grass, within
+sight of his family. Emily and Lucy were to read by turns, and Lucy was
+to begin. She laid her pretty doll across her lap, and thus she began:
+
+
+The Story in Emily's Book
+
+"On the borders of Switzerland, towards the north, is a range of hills,
+of various heights, called the Hartsfells, or, in English, the Hills of
+the Deer. These hills are not very high for that country, though in
+England they would be called mountains. In winter they were indeed
+covered with snow, but in summer all this snow disappeared, being
+gradually melted, and coming down in beautiful cascades from the
+heights into the valleys, and so passing away to one or other of the
+many lakes which were in the neighbourhood.
+
+"The tops of some of the Hartsfells were crowned with ragged rocks,
+which looked, at a distance, like old towers and walls and battlements;
+and the sides of these more rocky hills were steep and stony and
+difficult. Others of these hills sloped gently towards the plain below,
+and were covered with a fine green sward in the summer--so fine and
+soft, indeed, that the little children from the villages in the valleys
+used to climb up to them in order to have the pleasure of rolling down
+them.
+
+"These greener hills were also adorned with large and beautiful trees
+under which the shepherds sat when they drove their flocks up on the
+mountain pastures, called in that country the Alps, to fatten on the
+short fine grass and sweet herbs, which grew there in the summer-time.
+
+"Then the flowers--who can count the numbers and varieties of the
+flowers which grew on those hills, and which budded and bloomed through
+all the lovely months of spring, of summer, and of autumn? Sometimes
+the shepherds, as they sat in the shade watching their sheep, would
+play sweet tunes on their pipes and flutes, for a shepherd who could
+not use a flute was thought little of in those hills. It was sweet to
+hear those pipes and flutes from a little distance, when all was quiet
+among the hills, excepting the ever restless and ever dancing waters.
+There were many villages among the hills, each village having a valley
+to itself; but there is only one of these of which this story speaks.
+
+"It was called Hartsberg, or the Town of the Deer, and was situated in
+one of the fairest valleys of the Hartsfells. The valley was accounted
+to be the fairest, because there was the finest cascade belonging to
+those hills rushing and roaring at the very farthest point of the
+valley; and the groves, too, on each side of the valley were very grand
+and old.
+
+"The village itself was built in the Swiss fashion, chiefly of wood,
+with roofs of wooden tiles, called shingles; and many of them had
+covered galleries round the first floor. The only house much better
+than the others was the Protestant pastor's, though this was not much
+more than a large cottage, but it stood in a very neat garden.
+
+"There were a few, but a very few, houses separate from this village
+itself, built on the sides of the hills; and those belonged to
+peasants, or small farmers.
+
+"In the summer-time strangers sometimes came from a distance to look
+at the famous waterfall, and to gather such scarce flowers as they
+could find on the hills. It was a good thing for Heister Kamp, the
+widow who kept the little inn in the village, when these strangers
+came, for it not only put money into her pocket, but gave her something
+to talk of. She was the greatest gossip in the valley, and, like all
+gossips, the most curious person also, for nothing could pass but she
+must meddle and make with it; and it was very seldom that things were
+the better for her meddling.
+
+"Most of the inhabitants of the village were Protestants, but there
+were a few Roman Catholics, and these had a priest, an elderly man, who
+was a great friend of Heister Kamp, and might often be seen in her
+kitchen, talking over with her the affairs of the village. He was
+called Father St. Goar, and he had a small chapel, and a little bit of
+a house attached to it. His chapel was less than the Protestant church,
+but it looked far more grand within, for there was an altar dressed
+with artificial flowers, and burnished brass candlesticks, and over it
+waxen figures of the Virgin Mary and her Child, in very gaudy though
+tarnished dresses.
+
+"And now, having described the place, and some of the people, there is
+nothing to hinder the story from going on to something more amusing.
+
+"On the right hand of the great waterfall, and perched high on the
+hill, was an old house standing in a very lovely and fruitful garden;
+the garden faced the south, and was sheltered from the north and east
+winds by a grove of ancient trees.
+
+"The garden abounded with fruit and flowers and vegetables, and there
+were also many bee-hives; behind the house were several sheds and other
+buildings, and a pen for sheep.
+
+"This house was the property of a family which had resided there longer
+than the history of the village could tell. The name was Stolberg, and
+the family, though they had never been rich, had never sought help from
+others, and were highly respected by all who knew them.
+
+"At the time of this history the household consisted of the venerable
+mother, Monique Stolberg, her son Martin, a widower, and the three
+children of Martin; Ella, Jacques, and Margot.
+
+"Ella was not yet fourteen; she was a tall girl of her age, and had
+been brought up with the greatest care by her grandmother, though made
+to put her hand to everything required in her station. Ella was spoken
+of as the best-behaved, most modest, and altogether the finest and
+fairest of all the girls in the valley.
+
+"Heister Kamp said that she was as proud and lofty as the eagle of the
+hills. But Ella was not proud; she was only modest and retiring, and
+said little to strangers.
+
+"Jacques was some years younger than Ella; he loved his parents and
+sisters, and would do anything for them in his power; but he was hot
+and hasty, especially to those he did not love.
+
+"Margot was still a little plump, smiling, chattering, child, almost a
+baby in her ways; but everyone loved her, for she was as a pet lamb,
+under the eye of the shepherd.
+
+"Monique had received her, before she could walk, from her dying
+mother, and she had reared her with the tenderest care.
+
+"As to Martin, more need not be said of him but that the wish to please
+God was ever present with him. He had been the best of sons; and, when
+his wife died, he was rewarded for his filial piety by the care which
+his mother took of his children and his house.
+
+"Monique had had one other child besides Martin; a daughter, who had
+married and gone over the hills with her husband into France; but her
+marriage had proved unfortunate. She had resided at Vienne, in the
+south of France, and there she had left one child, Meeta, a girl of
+about the age of Ella.
+
+"When Martin heard of the death of his sister, and the forlorn state of
+the orphan, he set himself to go to Vienne; it was winter-time, and he
+rode to the place on a little mountain pony which he had; but he walked
+back nearly the whole way, having set Meeta, with her bundle, on the
+horse.
+
+"Everyone at home was pleased with Meeta when she arrived, though
+Monique secretly wondered how she could be so merry when her parents
+were hardly cold in their graves. Meeta was not, however, cold-hearted,
+but she was thoughtless, and she enjoyed the change of scene, and was
+pleased with her newly-known relations and their manner of life.
+
+"Little plump baby-like Margot was scarcely less formed in her mind
+than Meeta, though Meeta was as old as Ella: and of the two, Margot, as
+will be seen by-and-by, was more to be depended on than Meeta. Margot,
+when duly admonished on any point, could be prudent, but Meeta could
+not; yet Meeta was so merry, so obliging, and so good-humoured, that
+everyone in the cottage soon learned to love her; though some of them,
+and especially Monique, saw very clearly that there was much to be done
+to improve her and render her a steady character.
+
+"She was quick, active, and ready to put her hand to assist in
+anything; but she had no perseverance; she got tired of every job
+before it was half done, and she could do nothing without talking about
+it. As to religious principles and religious feelings, her grandmother
+could not find out that she had any. She was so giddy that she could
+give no account of what she had been taught, though Monique gathered
+from her that her poor mother had said much to her upon religious
+subjects during her last short illness. The snow was still thick upon
+the hills when Martin Stolberg brought Meeta to Hartsberg; so that the
+young people were quite well acquainted with each other before the
+gentle breezes of spring began to loosen the bands of the frost, and
+dissolve the icicles which hung from the rocks on the sides of the
+waterfall.
+
+"During that time poor Martin Stolberg was much tried by several heavy
+losses amongst his live stock: a fine cow and several sheep died, and
+when the poor man had replaced these, he said, with a sigh to his
+mother, that he must deny himself and his children everything which
+possibly could be spared, till better days came round again.
+
+"His mother answered, with her usual quiet cheerfulness:
+
+"'So be it, my son, and I doubt not but that all is right, for if
+everything went smooth in this world we should be apt to forget that we
+are strangers and pilgrims here, and that this is not our home.'
+
+"When Monique told Ella what her father had said, the young girl got
+leave to go down to the village, and, when there, she went to Madame
+Eversil, the pastor's lady, and having told her of her father's
+difficulties, she asked her if she could point out any means by which
+she might get a little money to help in these difficulties.
+
+"Monsieur Eversil, though a very simple man, was not so poor as many
+Swiss pastors are. He had no children, and his lady had had money.
+Madame wished to assist Ella, whom she much loved; but she rather
+hesitated before she said to her:
+
+"'I have been accustomed to have my linen taken up to be washed and
+bleached upon the mountains every summer. The woman who did this for me
+is just gone out of the country; if you will do it, you will gain
+enough during the summer to make up for the loss of the cow. But are
+you not above such work as this, Ella? They say of you that you are
+proud--is this true?'
+
+"The bright dark eyes of Ella filled with tears, and she looked down
+upon the polished floor of the parlour in which she was talking with
+Madame Eversil.
+
+"'I know not, Madame,' she answered, 'whether I am proud or not, but I
+earnestly desire not to be so; and I thank you for your kind proposal,
+and as I am sure that I know my grandmother's mind, I accept it most
+joyfully.'
+
+"It was then settled that Madame Eversil should send all the linen
+which had been used during the winter, to be washed and whitened and
+scented with sweet herbs, up to the hill as soon as the snow was
+cleared from the lower Alps. And Ella went gaily back to tell her
+grandmother and Meeta what she had done.
+
+"They were both pleased; Meeta loved the thoughts of any new
+employment, and Monique promised her advice and assistance. Even
+Jacques, when he came in, said he thought he might help also in drawing
+water and spreading the linen on the grass.
+
+"'And I,' said little Margot, 'can gather the flowers to lay upon the
+things--can't I, Ella?'
+
+"So this matter was settled, and everyone in the family was pleased.
+The winter at length passed away: the cascades flowed freely from the
+melting snow; the wind blew softly from the south; the grass looked of
+the brightest, freshest green; and every brake was gay with flowers,
+amongst which none were more beautiful or abundant than the
+rose-coloured primrose or the blue gentian. The sheep, which had been
+penned up during the winter, were drawn out on the fresh pastures, and
+strangers began to come to the valley to see the waterfall, near to
+which they climbed by the sheep-path, which ran just under the hedge of
+Martin Stolberg's garden. Even before May was over, Jacques, who was
+all day abroad on the hills watching his sheep, counted eight or nine
+parties, which came in carriages to the inn, and climbed the mountain
+on foot.
+
+"Heister Kamp was quite set up by the honour of receiving so many noble
+persons in her house, and still more pleased in pocketing the silver
+she got from them.
+
+"There was great benefit also to Father St. Goar from the coming of
+these strangers, for he never failed to drop in just about the time
+that the guests had finished their dinner, and was always invited to
+taste of any savoury dish which remained, to which Heister generally
+added a bottle of the ordinary wine of the country.
+
+"Things were being carried on in this sort of way when, one morning in
+the beginning of June, Margot and Meeta and Jacques went higher up the
+hill towards the waterfall to gather sweet herbs and flowers to strew
+upon the linen that was spread on the sward before the cottage door.
+
+"Margot could not reach the roses which grew above her head, so she
+busied herself in plucking the wild thyme and other lowly flowers which
+grew on either side of the path, putting them into her little basket
+and calling out from one moment to another:
+
+"'See, Jacques! see, see, Meeta! see how pretty!'
+
+"But Meeta and Jacques were too busy to attend to her, for Meeta had
+climbed on a huge piece which had fallen from the rock, and was
+throwing wreaths of roses to Jacques, who was gathering them up; but at
+length it was impossible for them not to give some attention to the
+little one, she was calling to them with such impatience.
+
+"'Come, Jacques! come, Meeta!' she cried, 'I have found such a pretty
+little green fishing-net, all spotted with moons; and it has got rings,
+pretty gold rings; and there are yellow fish in it.' And she quite
+stamped with eagerness.
+
+"'What does she say?' cried Meeta; 'little magpie, what is it?'
+
+"'A pretty little net,' replied Margot, 'and fish in it, and moons and
+rings. Oh, come, come!'
+
+"'She has found something strange,' said Jacques; 'I hope nothing that
+will hurt her.' And down he came tumbling, in his own active way,
+straight to his little sister, being quickly followed by Meeta.
+
+"Margot was holding up what she had found, crying:
+
+"'Pretty, pretty, pretty!' for it was quite bright and sparkling in the
+sun.
+
+"'It is a purse!' said Jacques.
+
+"'A green silk purse,' added Meeta, 'with gold spangles and tassels,
+and gold rings, and it is full of louis d'ors; give it to me, Margot.'
+
+"'No, no, no!' cried the little girl; 'no, it is for grandmother; I
+shall take it to her.'
+
+"'It is a valuable purse,' said Jacques; 'somebody has lost it; now
+grandmother will be rich! Let me see it, Margot; let me see what is in
+it.'
+
+"'No, no, no!' cried the little one, clasping it in both her dimpled
+hands; 'you shall not have it! it is for grandmother.'
+
+"'Only let me carry it to the door,' said Jacques, 'for fear you should
+drop anything out of it; and when you come to the door, I will put it
+into your own hands.'
+
+"Jacques never said what was not true to Margot, and Margot knew it;
+she, therefore, was content to give the purse to him; and the three
+then set off to run home as fast as they could.
+
+"They supposed that no one had seen them when they were talking about
+the purse, but they were mistaken; Father St. Goar was not far off,
+though hidden from them by a part of the rock which projected between
+them.
+
+"He heard Margot cry and talk of having found a net, and golden fish in
+it; but when Meeta and Jacques came near to the child, he could hear no
+more, because they spoke lower than before. He had heard enough,
+however; and when he went back to the village, he told Heister Kamp
+what he had seen, and made her more curious than himself to find out
+what it could be, though she felt pretty sure that it must be a purse
+of gold.
+
+"How astonished was Monique when little Margot put the purse in her
+lap, for she was sitting at work just within the door.
+
+"Meeta would not let Margot tell her own story, but raised her voice so
+high that Martin himself from one side, and Ella from another, came to
+see what could have happened. They came in just in time to see Monique
+empty the purse, and count the golden pieces. There were as many as
+fifteen on the one side of the purse, and on the other was a ring with
+a precious stone in it, and four pieces of paper curiously stamped.
+Martin Stolberg saw at once that these pieces of paper were worth many
+times the value of the gold, for he or any man might have changed them
+for ten pounds each.
+
+"'Son,' said Monique, 'Margot found this near the waterfall; it must
+have been lost by some of the visitors; it is a wonder that we have
+heard of no one coming to look after it. What can we do with it?'
+
+"'Buy a cow, father,' said Jacques.
+
+"Martin Stolberg shook his head.
+
+"'It is not ours, Jacques,' he said, 'though we have found it; we must
+keep it honestly for the owner, should he ever come to claim it.'
+
+"'Father,' said Jacques, 'I was not thinking, or I hope I should not
+have said those words.'
+
+"'I know you spoke hastily, Jacques,' replied Martin; and then having
+given Margot a few little pieces of copper money as reward for her
+giving up the little net to her grandmother, he took his venerable
+parent by the hand, and led her into an inner room, where they settled
+what was to be done with the purse.
+
+"Martin said that the children must all be seriously enjoined never to
+mention the subject, because many dishonest persons might, if they
+could get at the description of the purse and its contents, come
+forward to claim it, and thus it might be lost to the real owner.
+
+"'But,' he added, 'lest I should be tempted to use any of the money for
+myself, I will take the purse down to-morrow to the pastor's, and leave
+it in his care. Where it is, however, must not be known even to the
+children, lest we should bring inconvenience upon him. In the meantime,
+dear mother, do you stow the treasure safely away, and charge the young
+ones not to mention what we have found to anyone.'
+
+"Martin then left the house; and Monique, going up to the room where
+she slept, and where the great family chest was kept, called all her
+grandchildren, and letting them see where she put the purse, she
+charged them, one and all, not to speak one word to any person out of
+the house about the treasure which had been found.
+
+"'Why must not we, grandmother?' said Margot.
+
+"'Because,' replied Monique, 'if any thieves were to hear that we had
+got so much money in the house, they might come some time when your
+father was out, and break open the chest and steal it.'
+
+"'And perhaps they might kill us,' replied Margot, trembling all over.
+
+"'We must not speak of it, then,' said Ella, 'to anyone.'
+
+"'Our best way,' remarked Jacques, 'will be not to mention it to each
+other. We will never speak of it.'
+
+"'How can we help it?' said Meeta; 'I can never help talking of what I
+am thinking about.'
+
+"'That is a mistake of yours, Meeta,' said Monique; 'you never talk of
+some things which happened at Vienne, which you think would be no
+credit to you.'
+
+"'You mean about our being so very poor, and being forced to sell our
+clothes, grandmother? I don't think that I should go to talk of that to
+strangers.'
+
+"'Then you can keep some things to yourself, Meeta,' said Monique; 'and
+we shall not excuse you if you are so imprudent as to let out this
+affair of the treasure we have found to anyone.'
+
+"'Don't fear me, grandmother,' returned Meeta; 'nobody shall hear from
+me--but we must watch little Margot.'
+
+"That same evening, Martin Stolberg carried the purse and all the
+contents down to the house of the good pastor. He gave as his reason
+for so doing, that, being himself somewhat pressed for money, he did
+not dare to trust himself with this treasure."
+
+
+
+
+The Story in Emily's Book. Part II.
+
+[Illustration: Going gaily down the hill]
+
+
+Lucy had read first, and when she had finished the half of the story,
+Mrs. Fairchild proposed that they should take what was in the basket,
+before they went on to the second part.
+
+Mr. Fairchild was called in, and Mrs. Fairchild served each person from
+the store.
+
+"I am quite sure," said Emily, "that Monique Stolberg never made nicer
+cakes than these."
+
+"Papa," said Lucy, "I cannot help thinking that your book is not half
+so pretty as ours. You don't know what a pleasant story we have been
+reading, and we have half of it left to read. Shall I tell it to you,
+papa?" she added; and springing up, she placed herself close to him,
+putting one arm round his neck, and in a few minutes she made him as
+well acquainted with Monique, and Martin, and Ella, and Meeta, and
+Jacques, and Margot, and Heister Kamp, and Father St. Goar, as she was
+herself; "and now, papa," she said, "will any of the children, do you
+think, betray the secret?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Fairchild, smiling, "one of them will."
+
+"And who will that be, papa?" said Emily.
+
+"Not Jacques," replied Henry, though he was not asked; "I am sure it
+will not be Jacques."
+
+"Wherefore, Henry?" said Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"Because he is a boy," replied Henry, "and boys never tell secrets."
+
+"And are never imprudent!" answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "that is
+something new to me; but in this case I do not think it will be Jacques
+who will tell this secret."
+
+"Not Ella, papa?" asked Lucy.
+
+"I am sure it will not be Ella," added Lucy; "it must be between Meeta
+and little Margot."
+
+"Probably," said Mr. Fairchild; "and I have a notion which of the two
+it will be; and I shall whisper my suspicions to Henry; as he, being a
+boy, will be sure to keep my secret till the truth comes out of itself.
+Of course he might be trusted with a thing much more important than
+this."
+
+Mr. Fairchild then whispered either the name of Meeta or Margot to
+Henry; at any rate, he whispered a name beginning with an "M," and
+Henry looked not a little set up in having been thus chosen as his
+father's confidant.
+
+When every one of the children were satisfied, they placed the cup and
+the fragments in the basket, and then they all settled themselves in
+readiness for the rest of the story.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We must now turn, a little while, from the quiet, happy family in
+Martin Stolberg's cottage to Heister Kamp. What Father St. Goar had
+told her about Stolberg's children having found something curious near
+the waterfall had worked in her mind for above a week, for so long it
+was since Margot had found the purse; and she had watched for some of
+the children passing by her door every day since.
+
+"On the Sunday morning they did indeed pass by to go to church, but
+their father and grandmother were with them; and she knew well enough
+that she should have no chance of any of them when the older and wiser
+people were present.
+
+"The family came to church in the afternoon, but Heister was at chapel
+then.
+
+"In the evening, however, she made up her mind to climb the hill as far
+as the cascade, hoping there to meet one or two of the children
+standing about the place.
+
+"It was hot work for Heister to make her way up the hill so far, but
+what will not curious people do to satisfy their curiosity? And just
+then the village was particularly dull and quiet, as no stranger had
+happened to come for the last ten days, and many of the poor women had
+left their houses and gone up with their flocks to the chalets on the
+mountains.
+
+"When Heister got near Stolberg's cottage she met Jacques. He was going
+down on an errand to the pastor's from his father. He made a bow, and
+would have passed, when Heister stopped him to ask after his
+grandmother's health. When she had got an answer to this inquiry, she
+asked him various other questions about the lambs, the bees, and other
+matters belonging to the farm and garden; and then, with great seeming
+innocence, she said:
+
+"'You were looking for some herbs the other day, were you not, by the
+waterfall, and your sister found a very rare one, did she not? I ask
+you because I have many a chance of parting with scarce plants, dried
+and put into paper, to the strangers who come into the house.'
+
+"'I don't think,' answered Jacques, 'that little Margot would know a
+scarce plant if she found one.'
+
+"'But she did find something very curious that day,' said Heister.
+
+"'What day?' asked Jacques.
+
+"'It might be ten days since,' said Heister.
+
+"'Ten days?' repeated Jacques; 'what makes you remember ten days ago so
+particularly?'
+
+"'Well, but was it not about ten days ago,' returned Heister, 'that she
+found something very curious in the grass, and called on you to come
+and look at it?'
+
+"'There is scarce a day,' answered Jacques, 'in which she does not call
+me to come to her and see something she has met with more wonderful
+than ordinary. What was it she said when she called me that day you
+speak of? If you can tell me, why then I shall better know how to
+answer you.'
+
+"'She spoke of having found a net with golden fish and moons,' replied
+Heister; 'what could she mean?'
+
+"'It is difficult to know what she does mean sometimes,' said Jacques;
+'for the dear little lamb talks so fast that we do not attend to half
+she says. But is she not a nice little creature, Madame Kamp, and a
+merry one too?'
+
+"'Yes, to be sure,' replied Heister; 'but about the net and the
+fish--what could the little one mean?'
+
+"'Who heard her talk of them?' asked Jacques. 'Ask those who heard her,
+madame. _They_ ought to be able to tell you more about it. But I must
+wish you good evening, as I am in haste to go to the pastor's.'
+
+"Heister saw that she could make nothing of Jacques, so she let him go,
+pretending that she was herself going no higher, but about to turn
+another way.
+
+"As soon, however, as Jacques was out of sight, she came back into the
+path which ran at the bottom of the cottage garden, and there she saw
+little Margot seated on the bank under the hedge, with a nosegay in her
+hand.
+
+"The little one was dressed in her clean Sunday clothes, in the fashion
+of the country, and she wore a full striped petticoat which Monique had
+spun of lamb's-wool, a white jacket with short sleeves like the body of
+a frock, and a flowered chintz apron. Her pretty hair was left to curl
+naturally, and no child could have had a fairer, softer, purer
+complexion.
+
+"'Now,' thought Heister, 'I shall have it;' and she walked smilingly up
+to the child, and spoke fondly to her, asking her, 'where she got that
+pretty new apron?'
+
+[Illustration: "_Margot rose and made a curtsey._"--Page 262.]
+
+"Margot rose, made a curtsey, as she had been taught, and said:
+
+"'Grandmother made it, madame.'
+
+"Heister praised her pretty face, her bright eyes, her nice curling
+hair; and then she asked her if she had any pretty flowers to give her.
+
+"Margot immediately offered her nosegay, but she refused it, saying she
+did not want such flowers as those, but such curious ones as she
+sometimes found near the waterfall.
+
+"'I have got none now,' answered Margot.
+
+"'But you found a very curious one the other day, did you not, my
+pretty little damsel?' said Heister.
+
+"'Yes, madame,' said Margot, brightening up; 'yes, madame, I did.'
+
+"'Ay, I have it now,' thought Heister; and she patted the little one as
+she said, 'Was it not bright and shining like gold, and was there not
+something about it like moons?'
+
+"'Oh, no, madame,' replied the child; 'it was some pretty blue flowers
+that come every year. Jacques said they are called gentians; but I call
+them fairies' eyes, for they are just the very colour I always fancy
+the fairy of the Hartsfell's eyes must be--they are so very blue.'
+
+"'Well, well!' exclaimed Heister, hastily, 'I dare say they were
+very pretty; but did you not find something more curious on the
+mountains than flowers? What was it you found, that Monique praised you
+for finding, and told you you were a good child for giving it up to
+her?'
+
+"'Oh! it was the wild strawberries,' cried Margot; 'the pretty mountain
+strawberries. Grandmother thanked me for bringing her home the
+strawberries, for she said she had not tasted them since she was a
+girl.'
+
+"'Pshaw, child,' said Heister Kamp impatiently; 'it is not that I want
+to know. What was it you called a golden fish and moons?'
+
+"'Moons!' repeated Margot, colouring up to her very brow, 'moons,
+madame?'
+
+"'Ay, moons, child. What do you mean by moons?'
+
+"Poor little Margot! she was sadly put to for an answer, for she
+remembered what her grandmother had told her about keeping the secret
+of the purse; and not being old enough to evade a direct reply, she
+burst into tears, taking up her apron to her face.
+
+"'So you will not tell me what you call moons?' said Heister angrily;
+then, softening her tone, she added, 'Here, my pretty Margot, is a sou
+(or penny) for you, if you will tell me what you mean by moons and
+golden fish.' But seeing the child irresolute, she added, 'If you do
+not choose to tell, get out of my way, you little sulky thing.'
+
+"Margot waited no more, but the next moment the prudent little girl was
+up the bank and in the cottage, where she found her grandmother alone,
+to whom she told her troubles. Monique kissed her, wiped away her
+tears, and, taking her on her knee, she made the little one's eyes once
+more beam forth with smiles."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"There," said Henry, "just as papa said--he knew it would be Meeta."
+
+"Oh, Henry!" said Mrs. Fairchild, smiling, "how nicely you have kept
+papa's secret! You see you would not have done so well as little Margot
+did with Heister Kamp."
+
+Henry made no answer, and Emily went on.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Jacques had made up his mind never to allude to the affair of the
+treasure by a single word, so he kept his meeting with Heister to
+himself; and when you have read a little more, you will say how unlucky
+it was that he did so, or that Meeta was not present when Margot had
+been with her grandmother; but when you have read to the end, you will
+say it was all right as it was.
+
+"In the evening of the next day, Ella, with the help of Monique and
+Meeta, finished the getting up of a portion of the fine linen of Madame
+Eversil. It was therefore placed neatly in a basket covered with a
+white cloth, and sprinkled over with the fairest and choicest of
+flowers which could be gathered; and then Ella, being neatly dressed,
+raised it on her head, and set off with it to the village.
+
+"I wish we had a picture of Ella, just as she was that evening, going
+gaily down the hill with the basket so nicely balanced on her head,
+that she hardly ever put her hand to steady it, though she went
+skipping down the hill like the harts which in former times had given
+their name to the place.
+
+"She was dressed much as her little sister had been the evening before,
+only that she wore a linen kerchief and a linen cap, and her dark hair
+was simply braided. She loved to go to the pastor's, and she loved to
+be in motion; so she was very happy.
+
+"Her light basket travelled safely on her head, and nothing happened to
+disarrange it, excepting that one end of a long wreath of scarlet roses
+escaped from the inner part of the basket, and hung down from thence
+by the side of the fair cheeks of the young girl.
+
+"When Ella entered the little street, she saw no one till she came
+opposite the _Lion d'Or_, or _Golden Lion_, the house of Madame Kamp,
+and there she saw Heister, seated in the porch, knitting herself a
+petticoat of dyed wool in long stripes of various colours, with needles
+longer than her arm.
+
+"Heister liked knitting--it is the most convenient work for one who
+loves talking; the fingers may go whilst the tongue is most busy.
+
+"Ella would have gone on without noticing Madame Kamp, but Heister had
+no mind that she should.
+
+"'Good evening, Ella Stolberg,' she cried, 'whither away in such
+haste?--but I know, to Madame Eversil's. Can't you stop a minute? I
+have a word to say to you.'
+
+"Ella stopped, though not willingly.
+
+"'You look very bright and fair this evening, Ella,' said the cunning
+woman; 'and that garland hanging from your basket would be an ornament
+to Saint Flora herself; whose fancy was that, my girl? But it is a
+shame, Ella, that such a girl as you should be employed in getting up
+other people's linen--you above all, when there is no manner of
+necessity for it. I am much mistaken,' she added, with a cunning look,
+'if there are not more gold-fish in your father's net than ever found
+their way into mine.'
+
+"Ella was a little startled at this speech, and felt herself getting
+redder than she wished. She suddenly caught at her basket, brought it
+down from her head, and said, 'What garland is it you mean, neighbour?'
+and she busied herself in arranging the flowers again.
+
+"'Well, but the fish, Ella--the silver and golden fish in the net,'
+said Heister, 'what have you to say about them?'
+
+"Ella placed the basket on her head as she replied gaily:
+
+"'If there are gold and silver fish in plenty in the Hartsberg lakes,
+neighbour, it is but fair that they should sometimes be caught in nets.
+Fishes have no reason to guide them from danger; they are easily caught
+in nets. I must not, then, take example from them, else I shall, too,
+some day, perhaps, be caught. Jacques lays many a snare or nets for the
+birds of the mountains,' she added, as if to turn the conversation;
+'and once Margot found a young one caught, but she cried so bitterly
+about it that we took it home and nursed it till it got well. Did you
+ever see our starling, neighbour?'
+
+"'A pretty turn off!' said Heister; 'but you know that I mean the gold
+and silver fish to be louis-d'ors and francs, Ella. Has not your father
+now, girl, got more of these than he ever had in his life before?'
+
+"'I know this,' replied Ella, calmly, 'that I do firmly believe that my
+father never was so short of money as he is now: and this reminds me I
+must not linger, as I promised Madame Eversil a portion of her linen
+to-day: so good-evening, madame.'
+
+"Heister looked after Ella as she walked away, and muttered:
+
+"'The saucy cunning girl! but I am not deceived; I can trust Father St.
+Goar better than any one of those Stolbergs.'
+
+"About an hour before Ella had passed the _Lion d'Or_, a wild dark
+woman had come to the house to sell horn and wooden spoons. Heister had
+taken a few, and in return had given her a handful of broken victuals
+and a cup of wine; she had not carried these things away to eat and
+drink them, but had merely gone round the corner of the house, and sat
+herself down there in the dust. She was so near that she could hear
+all that had passed between Ella and Heister; above all, that Ella had
+said her father was decidedly short of money.
+
+"Ella had hardly turned into the gate of the pastor's house when Meeta
+appeared, going along after her. Monique had forgotten to send by Ella
+a pot of honey which she meant as a present to the pastor; and Meeta
+had offered to carry it, saying that she would have great pleasure in
+the errand, and would return with Ella. Monique gave permission; and
+Meeta appeared opposite to the _Golden Lion_ not five minutes after
+Ella was gone.
+
+"'A very good evening to you, Meeta,' cried Heister from the porch;
+'whither away in such haste? Stop a bit, I beseech you, and give a few
+minutes of your company to a neighbour. And how are all at home on the
+hill? I have been telling Ella, your cousin Ella, that she looked like
+the saint of the May. But you, Meeta, why, you might be painted for our
+Lady herself--so fresh and blooming, with your bright eyes and ruddy
+cheeks. But Ella tells me that things go hard with poor good Martin
+Stolberg--that he is short of money; and I am sorry, for I hoped that
+he had met with some good luck lately, and I fear that what I heard is
+not true.'
+
+"'What luck?' asked Meeta.
+
+"'Someone told me,' said Heister, 'that the little one had found a
+purse.'
+
+"'A purse?' repeated Meeta.
+
+"'What is a net,' answered Heister, 'with gold fish in it but a purse
+with gold pieces inside?'
+
+"'Where--where,' cried Meeta, 'could you have heard that? for
+grandmother was so very particular in making us promise not to mention
+it.'
+
+"'Heard it!' repeated the cunning widow; 'why, is not everything known
+that is done in the valley?'
+
+"'But how?' asked Meeta; 'yet I can guess: Margot has told you. I said
+I thought Margot would tell all about it. But do tell me, how came you
+to hear it?'
+
+"'Oh! there are a thousand ways of getting at the truth,' replied
+Heister; 'for if anything does happen out of the very commonest way, is
+it not talked of in my house by those who come and go? But this thing
+is in everybody's mouth, and people don't scruple to say that there
+were a vast number of golden pieces in the purse--some say a hundred.'
+
+"'Nay, nay,' replied Meeta, 'that is overdoing it; I really don't think
+there are more than fifteen.'
+
+"'Well,' returned Heister, 'I don't want to know exactly how many there
+are--I am not curious; no one troubles herself less with other people's
+affairs than I do; but I am glad this good luck has come to Martin
+Stolberg, above all others in the valley.'
+
+"'That is very kind of you,' replied Meeta, 'but I do not see what luck
+it is to him, for the money is not his, and he could not think of
+spending it: it is all put by in some safe place in the house.'
+
+"'Very good, very right,' answered Heister. 'No, no! Martin could never
+have such a thought. But where in the world can you find a place in the
+house safe enough for so many pieces? I should doubt whether they could
+count as many together even at Madame Eversil's. So you say there are
+fifteen, pretty Meeta? and though no doubt they take but little
+house-room, yet I should be sorry to keep so many in my poor little
+cottage, for I know not where I could stow them safely. I suppose
+neighbour Monique keeps them in her blue cupboard near the
+kitchen-stove?--a very good and a very safe place, no doubt, for them.'
+
+"'Oh, no,' cried Meeta, 'she has them in her chest above stairs, and
+my uncle keeps the key himself, and carries it about with him; but what
+am I doing here, lingering? Ella will have left the pastor's before I
+have reached there, if I stay with you, neighbour, any longer. So
+good-even,' she added, 'and pray don't say a word about where my Uncle
+Stolberg keeps the money, or else grandmother will think I have told
+you, and she will, perhaps, be angry with me.'
+
+"'And who else did tell me but yourself, giddy one?' cried Heister
+Kamp, laughing. 'It was all guess with me, I promise you, till you had
+it all out. Ella and Jacques, and even little Margot, would not tell me
+a word about it; and I really began to think that Father St. Goar had
+mistaken what the little one had said, till you let the cat out of the
+bag. But you ought to make haste after Ella, so don't let me hinder
+you.' And she arose and went laughing into the house, whilst Meeta
+hastened after her cousin.
+
+"We cannot suppose that Meeta's reflections were very pleasant, for, as
+soon as she was left to herself, she felt how very imprudent she had
+been. She tried, however, to comfort herself with thinking that she had
+done no harm. 'For what can it signify,' she said to herself, 'if
+Heister does know the truth?' But she would take care not to mention at
+home what she had said to Madame Kamp; and in this Meeta found, to her
+cost, that she could keep a secret."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"There now!" cried Henry, as Emily was turning over a leaf, "papa was
+right; he told me who would betray the secret."
+
+"We all guessed," said Lucy; "but, Emily, do go on."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The gipsy, or zingara (as they call such people in Switzerland and
+Germany), for such she was, had heard every word which had passed
+between Madame Kamp and Meeta; and as the coast was quite clear, she
+put the remains of her broken victuals into her bag and skulked away,
+like a thief as she was; and nobody thought of her, nor saw her go.
+
+"Three or four days passed quietly after the evening in which Meeta and
+Ella went to the village; but on the fourth morning a message came from
+Madame Eversil to Monique, to tell her that she had just heard of a
+party of persons of great consequence who were coming from a distance
+to dine at her house; she sent to beg her to come down immediately to
+help in getting the dinner, and, if she had no objection, to bring Ella
+with her to wait on the ladies and at table.
+
+"Martin Stolberg had gone off early that morning to market, at the
+nearest town, three leagues off; Jacques had gone up on the higher
+pastures with the flocks; and when Monique and Ella went down to the
+pastor's, only Meeta and Margot were left at the cottage.
+
+"Ella dressed herself in her Sunday clothes, and carried the basket,
+which her grandmother had packed, down the hill. Monique had filled the
+basket with everything she thought might be useful--a bottle of cream,
+new-laid eggs, and fresh flowers. She bade Margot and Meeta be good
+girls, and keep close at home, when she parted from them, with a kiss
+to each; and the next minute she and Ella were going down the hill."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I know what is coming next," cried Henry, as Emily turned over a leaf;
+"but do make haste, Emily."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Nothing could be more still and quiet than the cottage and all about
+it seemed to be when Meeta and Margot were left in it; for nothing was
+heard, when the children were not talking, but the rushing of the
+waterfall, the humming of the bees, and the bleating of the distant
+flocks, and now and then the barking of a sheep-dog.
+
+"Every cottager on those hills keeps a dog. Wolf was the name of Martin
+Stolberg's dog: Wolf was of the true shepherd's breed, and a most
+careful watch he kept both day and night; but he had gone that morning
+with Jacques to the Alps above the waterfall.
+
+"Monique had told the two girls that they might have peas for dinner,
+so it was their first business to gather these peas, and bring them
+into the house. Margot then sat down to shell them, but she did not sit
+within the house, because of the litter she always made when she
+shelled peas; so she sat on a little plot of grass under a tall tree,
+on one side of the straight path which led from the garden-gate to the
+house-door. Meeta remained within, being busy in setting the kitchen in
+order before she sat down to her sewing; and thus they were both
+engaged, when Margot saw two people come up to the wicket. Margot was
+very shy, as children are who do not see many strangers, and without
+waiting to look again at these persons, she jumped up and hid herself
+behind the large trunk of a tree, peeping at the people who were
+walking on to the house. The first was a very tall large woman: she
+wore a petticoat, all patched with various colours, which hardly came
+down to her ankles; she had long black and gray hair, which hung loose
+over her shoulders; a man's hat, and a cloak thrown back from the
+front, and hanging in jags and tatters behind. She came up the path
+with long steps like a man's, and was followed by a young man, perhaps
+her son, who seemed, by his ragged dirty dress, to be fit to bear her
+company.
+
+"Meeta did not see these people till the large form of the woman
+darkened the gateway. She was placing some cups on the shelf, and had
+her back to the door; when she turned, she not only saw the woman, but
+the man peeping over her shoulder, and though she was frightened she
+tried not to appear to be so.
+
+"'Mistress!' said the woman in a loud harsh voice, 'I am dying with
+thirst; can you give me anything to drink?' and as she said so, she
+walked in and sat herself on the first seat she could find. The man
+came in after her, and began looking curiously about him.
+
+"'I have nothing but water or milk to offer you,' answered Meeta, whose
+face was become as white as the cloth she held in her hand.
+
+"'It does not matter,' said the woman; 'we have other business here
+besides satisfying our thirst; it was you, was it not, that told the
+hostess of the inn below that your uncle found a purse of gold and put
+it by? The purse is ours, we lost it near this place; we are come to
+claim it.'
+
+"'Yes,' said the man, advancing a step or two towards Meeta; 'it is
+ours, and we must have it.'
+
+"'My uncle,' answered the trembling girl, 'is not at home; I cannot
+give you the purse.'
+
+"'You can't?' replied the man; 'we will see to that, young mistress; we
+knew your uncle was out when we came here, else we had not come; but we
+heard you say that you could tell, as well as he could, where he put
+the purse; if you do not do it willingly, we will make you.'
+
+"Meeta began to declare and profess most solemnly that she did not know
+where the keys were kept; indeed, she believed that her grandmother had
+taken them away in her pocket.
+
+"The fierce man used such language as Meeta had never heard before; and
+the woman, laying her heavy hand on her shoulder, gave her a terrible
+shake.
+
+"'Tell us,' said she, 'where is the chest into which the purse was
+put, or I will throw you on the ground and trample you under my feet.'
+
+"Meeta, in her excessive terror, uttered two or three fearful shrieks;
+and would, no doubt, have gone on shrieking, if the horrible people had
+not threatened to silence her voice for ever.
+
+"Little Margot, from behind her tree, heard those cries; and it is
+marvellous how the wits of a little child are sometimes sharpened, in
+cases of great trial; she thought, and thought truly, that she could do
+Meeta no good by running to her, but that she might help her by flying,
+as fast as her young feet could carry her, to the village. It was down
+hill all the way, and it was all straight running, if she could get
+unseen into the path on the other side of the hedge. So she threw
+herself on her hands and feet, and crept on all fours to where the
+hedge was thinnest, and, neither minding tears nor scratches, the hardy
+child came tumbling out on the path on the side of the village, jumping
+up on her feet; and no little lapwing could have flown the path more
+swiftly than she did."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well done, Margot!" cried Henry; but Emily did not stop to answer him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Jacques, at the very time in which Margot had begun to run down the
+hill, was watching his flock on the side of a green and not very steep
+peak, scarcely a quarter of a mile, as a bird would fly, from the
+cottage, though, to drive his flock up to it, he had perhaps the
+greater part of a mile to go. On the top of this peak were a few dark
+pines which might be seen for miles. Jacques was seated quietly beneath
+the shade of one of these trees; his sheep were feeding about him, his
+dog apparently sleeping at his feet, and his eyes being occupied at one
+moment in taking a careful glance at his flocks, and again fixed on a
+small old book which he held in his hand. Nothing could have been more
+quiet than was the mountain in that hour, nearly the hottest of the
+day; and how little did Jacques Stolberg imagine what was then going
+forward so near to him.
+
+"Wolf had been supposed by his master to be asleep some minutes, when
+suddenly the creature uttered a short sleepy bark, and then, raising
+his head and pricking his ears, he remained a minute in the attitude of
+deep attention and anxious listening.
+
+"'What is it, Wolf?' said Jacques: 'what is it, boy?'
+
+"The dog drew his ears forward, every hair in his rough coat began to
+bristle itself; he sprang upon his four feet--he stood a moment.
+
+"'What does he see?' cried Jacques, getting up also, and grasping his
+crooked staff; 'eh, Wolf, what is it?'
+
+"The dog heeded not his master's voice. He had heard some sound as he
+lay with his ear to the ground; he had made out the quarter from which
+it came whilst he stood listening at Jacques' feet. He had judged that
+there was no time for delay; and the next moment he was bounding down
+the slope, straight as an arrow in its course. There Jacques saw him
+bounding and leaping over all impediments, reaching the bottom of a
+ravine, or dry watercourse, at the foot of a small hill, and again
+running with unabated speed up the opposite bank. Jacques thought he
+was going directly towards the cottage, for the young shepherd could
+see him all the way; but as if on second thoughts, the faithful
+creature left the cottage, when near to it, on the right, and passing
+over the brow of the hill, was soon out of sight in the direction of
+the village.
+
+"Jacques knew not what to think, but he had little doubt that the dog
+was aware of something wrong; so the boy did not waver; his sheep were
+quiet, he was forced to trust that they should not stray if he left
+them a little while, and he hesitated not to follow Wolf; though he
+could not so speedily overcome the difficulties of the way as the dog
+had done.
+
+"Whilst Margot was running to the village, Wolf running after Margot
+(for such he afterwards proved was his purpose), and Jacques after
+Wolf, the fierce man had frightened poor Meeta out of all the small
+discretion which she ever had at command; and she told him that she had
+seen her grandmother put the purse in the great chest above stairs,
+that she did not know whether her uncle had taken the key, though,
+perchance, little Margot might know, as she slept with her grandmother.
+
+"She could not have done a more imprudent thing than mention Margot,
+for the woman immediately started, like one suddenly reminded of an
+oversight, at the mention of the child's name, and ran out instantly to
+seek her; at the same time the man drove Meeta before him up the ladder
+or stairs to where the great old chest which contained all the spare
+linen and other treasures of the family stood, and had stood almost as
+long as the house had been a house. There, without waiting the ceremony
+of looking for the key, he wrenched the chest open, pulling out every
+article which it contained, opening every bundle, and scattering
+everything on the floor, telling Meeta that, if he did not find the
+purse, she should either tell him where it was or suffer his severest
+vengeance.
+
+"So dreadful were the oaths he used that the poor girl was ready to
+faint, and the whitest linen in that chest was not so white as her
+cheeks and lips.
+
+"The woman, in the meantime, was seeking Margot, and, with the cunning
+of a gipsy, had traced the impression of the little feet to the corner
+of the garden, where a bit of cloth torn from the child's apron showed
+the place where she had crept through the hedge. The gipsy could not
+creep through the opening as the child had done, but she could get over
+the hedge; and this she speedily did, and saw the little one before
+her, running with all her might. At the noise the woman made at
+springing from the hedge, Margot looked back, and set up a shriek, and
+that shriek was probably what first roused Wolf, who was lying with his
+ear on the earth.
+
+"Now there were four running all at once; Margot first, the gipsy after
+her and gaining fast upon her, Wolf springing over every impediment and
+gaining ground on the gipsy, and Jacques after the dog; and there was
+another party too coming to where Margot was. These last were coming
+from the pastor's house; and there was a lady seated on Madame
+Eversil's mule, on a Spanish saddle, and a little page in a rich livery
+was leading the mule. The pastor was walking immediately behind her
+with two gentlemen, her husband and her son. This lady was a countess,
+and she it was who had lost the purse a few weeks before, when she had
+come to see the cascade.
+
+"In going home that day the carriage had been overturned, and she had
+been so much hurt that she never thought of her purse until a few days
+afterwards, and then she supposed that it must have been lost where the
+carriage had been overturned. She caused great search to be made about
+that place; and it might have appeared to be quite by accident that
+Monsieur Eversil heard of that search; but there is nothing which
+happens in this world by accident. He knew the count and countess, and
+wrote to them to tell them that if they would come again to Hartsberg
+and take dinner in his humble house, he would give them good news of
+the purse.
+
+"When they came he told them of the honesty of the family of the
+Stolbergs; and when he had placed the purse in the hands of the
+countess, and she had seen that nothing had been taken out of it, the
+pastor brought the venerable Monique and the fair Ella before the noble
+lady, and she was as much pleased with one as with the other. Her mind,
+therefore, was full of some plan for rewarding these poor honest
+people, and more especially when Monique told her how the least of the
+family had found the net and the golden fish and the moons.
+
+"'I must see that little Margot,' she said, 'and if she is like her
+sister, I shall love her vastly;' and then it was settled that the mule
+should be saddled, and that she and the gentlemen should go up the
+hill, whilst Madame Eversil remained to look after dinner.
+
+"This party were also on the hill, though lower down and hidden by the
+winding of the way, when Margot set out to run; but none of Margot's
+friends would have been in time to save her, if it had not been for
+Wolf. The wicked gipsy had resolved, if she could catch her, to stop
+her cries one way or another; to take her in her arms, hold her hand
+over her mouth, and to run with her to some place in the hills, not far
+off, some cave or hole known only to herself and her own people; and if
+the poor child had once been brought there, she would never have been
+suffered to go free again among her friends to tell where the zingari
+hole was.
+
+"When Margot knew that the woman was after her she increased her speed,
+but all in vain; the gipsy came on like the giant with the
+seven-leagued boots; she caught the terrified child in her arms, put a
+corner of her ragged cloak into her mouth, and, turning out of the path
+down into a hollow of the hills, hoped to be clear in a minute more.
+
+"But she was not to have that minute; Wolf was behind; he had flown
+with the swiftness of the wild hart, and when within leaping distance
+of the old woman, he sprang upon her, and caused his fangs to meet in
+her leg. She uttered a cry, and tried to shake him off, but he only let
+go in one place to seize another, so she was forced to drop the
+struggling child in order to defend herself from the dog, for she
+expected next that he would fly at her throat. It was a fearful battle
+that, between the hardy gipsy and the enraged dog. The howlings and
+bayings of the furious animal were terrible, his fangs were red with
+the gipsy's blood; the woman, in her fear and pain, uttered the most
+horrid words, whilst little Margot shrieked with terror. Though the
+battle hardly lasted two minutes, it gave time for Jacques to come in
+sight of it on one side; the pastor, the count, and his son at another.
+
+"Jacques did not understand the cause of this terrible war; he only saw
+that his dog was tearing the flesh of a woman; he did not at first see
+Margot, who had sunk in terror on the grass; therefore he called off
+his dog with a voice of authority, and the moment Wolf had loosed his
+hold of the woman, she fled from the place, and was never more seen in
+that country. But now all this party had met round Margot, looking all
+amazement at each other, whilst the little one sat sobbing on the
+ground, and Wolf stood looking anxiously at his young master, panting
+from his late exertions, and licking his bloody fangs, for there was no
+one to explain anything but the child.
+
+"'What is all this, Jacques?' asked the pastor.
+
+"'What is it, Margot?' said Jacques, taking his little sister in his
+arms, and soothing her as he well knew how to do; whilst she, clinging
+close to him, could not at first find one word to say.
+
+"Jacques carried the child, and they all went back into the path, where
+the countess sat, anxiously waiting for them, on her mule.
+
+"All that Margot could say to be understood was:
+
+"'Run, run, to poor Meeta--they will kill her; the man will kill her,
+and Wolf is not there.'
+
+"Jacques repeated her words to the pastor.
+
+"'I have it, Jacques,' replied the good man; 'these vagrants are after
+the treasure; maybe there are others in the cottage; put the child
+down, my boy, leave her to walk by the lady, and let us all run
+forward.'
+
+"'Nay, nay,' said the lady, 'put the sweet child in my arms and hasten
+on.' So it was done, and the gentle lady took the little peasant before
+her, whilst she soothed her with her gentle tones and kindly words.
+
+"'And what,' said she, 'was that naughty woman going to do with you?
+and who was it that saved you?'
+
+"'Good Wolf came, madame,' said the child, 'and he saved me; but poor
+Meeta--they will kill poor Meeta!'
+
+"When Jacques and those who were with him had reached the cottage, they
+found the doors all open, but no one below; they went up the stairs,
+and there they found Meeta extended on the floor in a deep fainting
+fit. The chest stood open, and all its contents scattered about, but no
+man was there; he had probably taken alarm at the various cries and
+howlings which he had heard, and had made good his escape.
+
+"Meeta was lifted up and laid on the bed, and water being dashed in her
+face, she opened her eyes, but for a while could say nothing to be
+understood.
+
+"She was soon able to arise, and to come down the stairs with the arm
+of the pastor, though her head was still dizzy and she trembled all
+over. In the kitchen they found the lady and little Margot; and it was
+then that, between Meeta and Margot, they were able to make out what
+had happened. Then it was that everyone patted the head of Wolf and
+smiled upon him, calling him 'Good dog'; and Margot kissed him, and he
+wagged his tail, and went about to be caressed.
+
+"'And so,' said the countess to the little one, 'it was you, my pretty
+child, who found the silken net with the golden fish and pretty moons;
+and it was through my carelessness in losing it that all this mischief
+of to-day is come. I cannot bear to think of what might have happened
+to you, poor baby;' and the lady stooped and kissed the child, and it
+was seen that she had tears in her eyes.
+
+"'All is now well, lady, through the care of Providence,' said the
+pastor, 'and we will rejoice together, and I trust be grateful to Him
+from whom all mercies flow; for if we had lost our little Margot, it
+would have been a thousandfold worse than the loss of the purse. But
+one thing puzzles me: how did these vagrants discover that this
+treasure had been found? Who could have told it? I thought it had been
+known only to this family and me.'
+
+"'I am the guilty person,' said Meeta, coming forward; 'I will not
+throw suspicion on others by hiding my fault;' and she then repeated
+her conversation with Heister Kamp, but she could give no account of
+how the secret had passed on to the gipsies.
+
+"'I am sure,' said the pastor, 'that Heister would be above having to
+do with such people; but she is a woman of excessive curiosity, and
+such people are dangerous to others, as well as injurious to
+themselves.'
+
+"'A secret, my good girl,' said the countess, smiling, 'may be compared
+to a bird in a cage; whilst shut up within our own breasts, it is safe;
+but when we open the door, either of the cage or of the heart, to let
+the inmate out, we can never tell whither it may fly; but you have
+owned the truth, and you have suffered severely--let all be
+forgotten.'
+
+"'I have a proposal to make,' said the pastor; 'we will go back and
+dine, and in the evening we will all come up and sup together; the good
+man shall find us feasting when he comes home.'
+
+"'Agreed,' cried the count and countess; 'you must set the house in
+order, and we will send up the entertainment,' she added, speaking to
+Meeta and Jacques; 'and we will be with you in a few hours. Let us then
+see this little fair one in all the bravery of her Sunday attire.'
+
+"And all was done as the lady and pastor wished. Meeta set everything
+in proper order. Jacques brought his flocks from the pasture, and gave
+his best help. All the Sunday dresses were put on, and Margot was
+standing at the wicket in her very best apron, when the mule and the
+lady appeared again, followed by the pastor and Monique, Ella, and
+people without number, bearing the things needful for such a supper as
+had not often been enjoyed under that roof.
+
+"Oh, what a happy meeting was that! How delighted was the lady with
+Margot, and what a beautiful little enamelled box for containing
+sweetmeats did she give her from her pocket! But there were no
+sweetmeats in it; there were what Margot called golden fish.
+
+"Wolf had a glorious evening; he went about again to be patted, and he
+had as much to eat, for once in his life, as he could conveniently
+swallow.
+
+"Meeta was forgiven by everyone, because she had not hidden her fault;
+and the whole party were just sitting down to supper before the porch
+when Martin Stolberg came home.
+
+"Who shall say how astonished he was, or how grateful when the countess
+placed in his hand all the gold which had been found in the purse?--the
+count adding, that in a few days he might look for a fine young cow and
+two sheep from his own farm, in the vicinity of his castle; and also
+saying, at the same time, that he and his lady should have great
+pleasure in doing anything for him and his family at any time when they
+might apply to them.
+
+"The lady did not overlook Meeta and Ella; she assured them that she
+would remember them when the cow was brought; and truly there was an
+ample store of linen and flowered aprons, and kerchiefs and caps of
+fine linen, in packets directed to each. But the little one, like
+Benjamin, had more than her share even of these presents also; and she
+had well deserved them, for she had shared her golden fish with her
+brother, sister, and cousin.
+
+"The young count took upon himself to make presents to Jacques; he sent
+him a strong set of gardener's and carpenter's tools, and a Sunday suit
+of better clothes than Jacques had ever worn before.
+
+"Martin put his gold into the pastor's hands till he should require it,
+being in no mind to keep much treasure in his house.
+
+"It is only necessary to add, that the count took proper steps for
+finding the wicked gipsy and her son, but they had left the country and
+could not be found; neither were they ever again seen by the peasants
+of the Hartsberg."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well," said Henry, when Emily had finished reading, "that is a
+beautiful book: it made me so hot when they were all running, my feet
+felt as if they would run too--they quite shook--I could not keep them
+quiet."
+
+"And how nicely you kept papa's secret!" said Mrs. Fairchild; "you
+showed that you were not much more clever than Meeta."
+
+"But then, mamma," replied Henry, "papa's secret was not of so much
+consequence as Meeta's was."
+
+"Now, mamma," said Emily, "when do you think the day will come for
+Henry's story?"
+
+Mrs. Fairchild answered:
+
+"Papa will tell us when he can spare an evening."
+
+"My book, I am certain," said Henry, "will be prettier than yours,
+Emily."
+
+"Why must it be prettier?" asked his mother.
+
+"Because Lucy said it is all about boys; I like boys' stories--there
+are so few books about boys."
+
+"But I think it is a grave story," said Lucy.
+
+"Never mind," answered Henry, "if it be about boys."
+
+[Illustration: "_Meeta offered to carry the honey._"--Page 269.]
+
+
+
+
+Guests at Mr. Fairchild's
+
+[Illustration: "She does not know that I made a slit in my frock"]
+
+
+The night after Emily's story had been read, there was a violent
+thunderstorm and rain, which continued more or less till daybreak; it
+was fine again after sunrise.
+
+At breakfast a note was brought by a boy from Mrs. Goodriche: these
+were the words of it:
+
+     "DEAR MR. FAIRCHILD,
+
+     "Since that happy day we spent together, we have been in what
+     Sukey calls a peck of troubles; and, to crown all, last night one
+     of our old chimneys was struck with lightning: part of it fell
+     immediately, but I am thankful to be able to say, that by the care
+     of Providence no one was hurt.
+
+     "We are all got into a corner out of the reach of it, should it
+     fall, though it might yet stand for years as it is. I have other
+     things to talk to you about, and was thinking of coming over to
+     you if this accident had not happened. Now I must ask you to come
+     to me; I have sent for workmen to consult about this chimney, but
+     I shall have more confidence if you are here."
+
+"I must be off immediately after breakfast," said Mr. Fairchild; and he
+did set off, in his little carriage, as soon as he had set Henry to
+work.
+
+Mr. Fairchild saw the top of the ragged chimney over the trees in the
+garden. As soon as he came up to the gate, he himself put up the horse
+and carriage, for he could see no man about, and then went in at the
+back door, expecting to find Mrs. Goodriche at that end of the house
+farthest from the chimney.
+
+Sukey was the first person he saw.
+
+"Oh, sir," she said, "I am so glad you are come! We shall be all right
+now."
+
+"Nay," said Mr. Fairchild, jestingly, "I hope you don't expect _me_ to
+repair the chimney."
+
+"Is that Mr. Fairchild?" cried the cheerful voice of Mrs. Goodriche;
+and the next minute she came out of her parlour, followed by a tall
+round-faced girl of about twelve years of age, in very deep mourning.
+
+"My niece, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but tell me, have you
+breakfasted?" And when she heard that he had; "Come with me, kind
+friend," she said, "we will first look at the ruin, and then I have
+other things to talk to you, and to consult you about. So, Bessy, do
+you stay behind; you are not to make one in our consultations."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche and Mr. Fairchild then walked into the garden; and we
+will tell, in as few words as possible, what they talked about.
+
+First they spoke of the chimney, and Mr. Fairchild said that he could
+give no opinion about it till the owner of the house and the masons
+came, and they were expected every hour.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche said that she had lived in that house nearly twenty
+years, and should be sorry to leave it; but that she and Sukey, on
+windy nights, often felt that they should be glad to be out of it.
+
+"And yet," said Mr. Fairchild, "it may stand long after you and I;
+still it is a wide, dull place for two persons, and very solitary."
+
+"I wish I could get a house your way," replied Mrs. Goodriche; "though
+now we shall be more than myself and Sukey; and this brings me to the
+subject I wanted to consult you about before the business of the
+chimney."
+
+Mr. Fairchild knew that Mrs. Goodriche had had one only brother, who
+had gone abroad, when young, as a merchant. He had married, and had one
+son; this son had also married, and Bessy was the only child of this
+son. Mrs. Goodriche's brother had died years ago, as had also his son's
+wife; at which time her nephew had sent his daughter home and placed
+her in a school in some seaport in the south of England, where she had,
+it seems, learned little or nothing.
+
+Within the last month, Mrs. Goodriche had heard of the death of her
+nephew, and that she was left as guardian of his daughter.
+
+"I had an acquaintance going to Plymouth only last week," she added;
+"and I got him to take charge of Bessy and bring her here. She has been
+with me only a few days, and is very glad to leave school, which does
+not speak well for her governess; or if not for her governess, for
+herself. As to what she is, I can as yet say little," added the old
+lady, "except that she seems to be affectionate and good-tempered; but
+she is also idle, wasteful, and ignorant in the extreme. She can't read
+even English easily enough to amuse herself with any book; and as to
+sewing, she is ready at a sampler, but could not put the simplest
+article of clothing together. With regard to any knowledge of the
+Bible, I much doubt if she can tell if the tower of Babel was built
+before or after the Flood. She is a determined gossip and a great
+talker; but Sukey, to whom she is always chattering, assures me that
+she has never heard her say anything bad beyond nonsense."
+
+"You mean to keep her with you?" asked Mr. Fairchild.
+
+"I do," said Mrs. Goodriche; "I think it my duty, and I am far from
+disliking the poor thing. She has had so much schooling, and gained so
+little by it, that if I could get a good writing and maybe a ciphering
+master to attend her, I think I could do the rest myself, and impart to
+her some of the old-fashioned notions of industry, and neatness, and
+management. But this is a subject I wanted to consult you and Mrs.
+Fairchild about, for I so much like your plans with your own dear
+children."
+
+Mrs. Fairchild had asked her husband to invite Mrs. Goodriche to their
+house until the chimney should be repaired; but Mr. Fairchild was
+doubtful whether this message should be delivered, when he heard that
+Miss Bessy was to remain with her great-aunt. After a little thought,
+however, he gave the message, stating his difficulty at the same time.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Goodriche, "I hardly know what to say: I should like
+to come to you, and I should like Bessy to see your children and your
+family plans; but as I know so little of her, I know not whether it
+would be right to let her mix with your children. You shall think the
+matter over, my good friend, and consult your wife; and be sure,
+whichever way the thing is settled, I shall not be offended."
+
+When the men came to look at the chimney, it was found that the
+mischief might be remedied by a few days' work, so far as to make the
+chimney safe; but it was also seen that the house wanted many repairs.
+
+"I think," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that I must give notice to quit this
+coming Midsummer. I shall still have half a year to look about me. The
+fright last night seems to have been sent to oblige me to settle my
+plans. I feel that this place is not exactly what will suit my
+niece--young people must have company; and if they are not where they
+can find their equals, they will fly to their inferiors. Bessy will
+make intimacies with every cottager in the wood, and I shall not be
+able to help it."
+
+"I believe you are right, Mrs. Goodriche," replied Mr. Fairchild; "and
+I wish we could find a house for you in our village."
+
+Mr. Fairchild looked very anxiously at Bessy when he saw her again.
+There was a great appearance of good temper and kindness about her
+which pleased him. She had a round rosy face and laughing eyes; but her
+clothes, although quite new, were already out of place, and falling
+from one shoulder. She talked incessantly, whether heeded or not, and
+seldom said anything to the purpose.
+
+"If I were to begin to find fault with her," said Mrs. Goodriche to Mr.
+Fairchild, "I could never have done: not that she is constantly
+committing heavy offences, but she never does anything in the right
+way. What shall I do with her, my good friend?"
+
+"We will talk over the affair at home," replied Mr. Fairchild; "and you
+shall see me again to-morrow."
+
+The next day accordingly brought Mr. Fairchild, and with him Mrs.
+Fairchild.
+
+"Well, my good madam," said he, "we have settled it; we shall be glad
+to see you and Miss Bessy. We have spoken to Lucy and Emily; and they
+have promised to attend to all our wishes, and to inform us if
+anything should be said or done which they think we should not
+approve. So when shall I fetch you?--say to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow, then," replied Mrs. Goodriche; "to-morrow evening, by which
+time I shall have settled things at home, and provided a person to be
+with Sukey."
+
+After an early dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild went home.
+
+The next morning Mrs. Fairchild had some conversation with her little
+girls.
+
+"You have never, my dears," she said, "been in a house for any time
+with a young person whose character we do not know; but it seems that
+it is required of us now to receive such a one. Mrs. Goodriche is an
+old and very dear friend; she is in trouble, and she has some hopes
+that her niece may be benefited by being for a while in an orderly
+family. You and Emily may be some help to her; but if you are led by
+her, or are unkind to her, or show that you think yourselves better
+than she is, you may not only be hurt yourselves, but very much hurt
+her instead of doing her good."
+
+"Oh, mamma," replied Lucy, "I hope that we shall not do that: pray tell
+us every day exactly what to do."
+
+"Be assured that I will, my children," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we
+will not fear. You will not dislike Bessy--she is a good-tempered,
+merry girl; but you must not let her be alone with Henry: her very good
+humour may make her a dangerous companion to him."
+
+Mr. Fairchild went, after dinner, to fetch Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy;
+and just before tea Henry came in to say the carriage was coming. He
+ran out again as fast as he could to set the gate open.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild and the little girls met their visitors at the door.
+
+Bessy jumped out of the carriage, and without waiting for the names to
+be spoken, gave her hands to Lucy and Emily. She kissed Lucy, and would
+have kissed Emily if she had not got behind Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"And that was Henry," she said, "who stood at the gate: he is a nice
+little fellow! I know all the names, and John's and Betty's too. Sukey
+has told me about Betty--just such another as herself. What a pretty
+place this is!--not like aunt's old barn of a house. I feel at home
+here already."
+
+Whilst the young lady was prattling in this manner, Mrs. Fairchild was
+showing Mrs. Goodriche to her sleeping-room. She had put up a little
+couch-bed in the corner of the same room for Bessy, as she had no other
+room to give; and this had been settled between the ladies the day
+before. Mrs. Goodriche had told her niece to follow her upstairs, which
+Miss Bessy might perchance have done, after a while, had not Betty
+appeared coming from the kitchen to carry up the luggage.
+
+"That is Betty," said Miss Bessy. "How do you do, Betty? Sukey told me
+to remember her to you."
+
+"Very well, thank you, Miss," said Betty, with a low curtsey, as she
+bustled by with a bandbox.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche now appeared, and speaking to her niece from the
+stair-head said:
+
+"Come up, Bessy, and put yourself to rights before tea."
+
+"Shan't I do, Miss Lucy?" said Bessy; "aunty is so particular; she does
+not know that I made a monstrous slit in my frock as I got into the
+carriage. I pinned it up, however, as well as I could, though I was
+forced to take the pins out of my dress for it. I shall run it up
+to-morrow, for, if she sees it, poor I will be forced to darn it thread
+by thread; so do lend me a pin or two, dear girls."
+
+Betty now appeared again with a message to the young lady to go
+upstairs to her aunt, and then Bessy hurried off so rapidly, taking two
+steps at a time, that Lucy and Emily expected she would have a second
+slit in her dress to mend the next day. She did not appear again till
+told that tea was ready, when she came down after her aunt. Mrs.
+Goodriche looked all kind and calm as usual; she seemed quite pleased
+to find herself with her friends, though no doubt she was a little
+uneasy lest her niece should disgrace herself. As Bessy passed Lucy to
+go to a seat near Mrs. Fairchild, she whispered:
+
+"Aunt has found out the slit, and poor I will be set to the darning
+to-morrow."
+
+The whole party were seated before Henry came in; he had been seeing
+John put up the carriage. John had been busy, and Henry trying to
+help--so Henry was not like the boy who helped his brother to do
+nothing.
+
+"Well, Master Henry," said Miss Bessy, calling over to the other end of
+the table, "so you speak to my aunt, and say you are glad she is come,
+and you don't speak to me."
+
+"Because, ma'am----" Henry began.
+
+"Eh?" cried Miss Bessy, "don't call me ma'am;" and she burst into a
+giggle, which made Henry open his eyes and look very hard at her.
+
+This made her laugh the more; and, as she had her teacup in her hand,
+she spilt a quantity of tea on the unfortunate black frock.
+
+"Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche gently, "you had better set down your cup
+and wipe your frock, or I shall have to ask Mrs. Fairchild to lend you
+one of Henry's pinafores."
+
+"It is not hurt, aunt; it will all come out. I threw a cup of milk over
+it the other day, and no one could see the mark unless I stood quite
+opposite them, and they looked quite hard at it."
+
+"Well, then, Miss Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche, "when you wear that
+frock, or any other of your frocks which people should not look hard
+at, I would advise you to keep in the background."
+
+"Aunt is making sport of me, Mrs. Fairchild," said Bessy, with another
+giggle; "do you know what she means? She is advising me, in her cunning
+way, always to keep in the background of company."
+
+"Always?" said Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "why, have you not any dresses
+which would bear close inspection?"
+
+"Not many, I fear!" replied Miss Bessy; "I was always uncommon unlucky
+in tearing my clothes and getting them stained."
+
+"Suppose we say careless," said Mrs. Goodriche; "but it is no laughing
+matter, niece. Have you never heard the old saying, 'Wilful waste makes
+woful want'?"
+
+"Well, well," replied the niece, with something like a sigh, "I can't
+help it--I never could;" but before Mrs. Goodriche could say another
+word, she cried out, "You have got a magpie--have you not, Henry?"
+
+"How could you know that?" asked Henry.
+
+"Sukey told me," she answered, "and Mary Lampet told her. Mary was with
+the person who gave you the magpie, when she sent it to you."
+
+"Who is Mary Lampet?" said Henry.
+
+"One of Bessy's new friends," said Mrs. Goodriche; "a woman who
+sometimes comes for a day's work to my house."
+
+"And such a curious old body," said Miss Bessy; "she wears a blue
+striped petticoat, and she generally has a pipe in her mouth."
+
+"Never mind her, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche: "Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild and I have a good deal to say to each other; we do not often
+meet, and we wish to have our share of talking; it is not for one
+person, and that one of the youngest, to have all the talk to herself."
+
+Instead of noticing this remark, Miss Bessy looked round the table.
+
+"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," she said; "aunt, you are
+wrong, I am not one of the youngest; there are three older, and three
+younger than me. I am Jack in the middle; and therefore I have a right
+to talk to the old people, and to the young ones too; and therefore I
+may talk most."
+
+Henry was being gradually worked up by Miss Bessy to think that he
+might be as free as she was; and he began with, "Well now, is not that
+very odd?"
+
+"My dear Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "did not you hear Mrs. Goodriche
+say she thought that young people should not have all the talk to
+themselves?"
+
+"Don't scold him," said Bessy; "he meant no harm."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche looked distressed; her niece saw it, and was quiet for
+at least a minute or two, and then she began to talk again as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+When tea was over, and everybody risen from the table, before it was
+settled what was to be done next, Henry walked out through the glass
+doors into the garden--he was going to feed Mag.
+
+Bessy saw him, and called after him; he did not answer her--perhaps he
+did not hear her. She called again--he was farther off, and did not
+turn.
+
+"You little rogue!" she cried out; "but I will pay you;" and off she
+ran after him.
+
+He heard her step and her voice as she called him; he took to his heels
+through the shrubbery, and to the gate of the fold-yard--into the
+yard--round the barn--amongst the hay-ricks--across a new-mown field,
+and over a five-barred gate, using all his speed, and yet gaining no
+ground upon her; so back again then he came to where he knew John would
+be, and making up to him, he got so behind him that he put him between
+Bessy and himself.
+
+There the three were in the fold-yard, Bessy trying to catch Henry, who
+was dodging about round John, when Mr. Fairchild, who had followed
+Bessy, came up.
+
+"Miss Goodriche," he said, "let me lead you to your aunt, she is asking
+for you. My dear young lady," he added, drawing her a little aside,
+"let me venture to point out to you, as a father, that it is not
+becoming in a girl of your years to be romping with a servant man."
+
+"I was after Henry, sir!" she replied: "it was after him I was going,
+sir, I assure you."
+
+"I dare say you set off to run after Henry, my dear young lady," he
+replied; "but when I first saw you, you were pushing John about, first
+on one side and then on the other, in a way I should call romping; and
+am I not right when I say that I think, even now, you have not spoken
+one word to him, and that you only guess he is my servant John? What
+would you think, Miss Goodriche, if you were to see my daughter Lucy
+suddenly run and do the same by yonder labourer in that meadow?--and
+yet she may know him quite as well, if not better, than you do John."
+
+"La! Mr. Fairchild," cried Miss Bessy, laughing, "how you do put
+things! I never thought what I was doing. It must have looked uncommon
+strange, but I hope I shan't do it again."
+
+"Then you had better go in with me to your aunt, and if she approves,
+you shall help Lucy and Emily in their little gardens."
+
+[Illustration: "_Cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead
+leaves._"--Page 299.]
+
+Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche were only waiting for Miss Bessy to
+follow the little girls into the garden; and there, whilst they worked
+and chatted together, Lucy and Emily and Miss Goodriche were employed
+in cutting off faded flowers, and picking up the dead leaves from the
+ground.
+
+[Illustration: "_Off she ran after him._"--Page 295.]
+
+
+
+
+More about Bessy
+
+[Illustration: She saw Bessy amongst some gooseberry bushes]
+
+
+It may be supposed that Mrs. Goodriche gave some good advice to her
+niece whilst they were in their room, for Miss Bessy came down looking
+rather sulky, and said very little at breakfast; only that she
+attempted several times to hold discourse with Lucy in whispers, for
+which they were quietly called to order by Lucy's father.
+
+Mr. Fairchild said:
+
+"You must not whisper at table, my dears, for we are met to make
+ourselves agreeable either by talking or attentive listening."
+
+After breakfast Mrs. Fairchild said:
+
+"As we hope your visit, Mrs. Goodriche, will be a long one, we will, if
+you please, go on with our plans. I shall go into my school-room with
+my little girls, and leave you and Bessy to yourselves; you will see us
+again about twelve o'clock."
+
+"Very right," replied Mrs. Goodriche, with a smile; "and I trust that
+Bessy and I shall be as busy as you will be."
+
+So Mrs. Goodriche went to her room, and when she came back with two
+large bags and several books, there was no Miss Bessy to be found.
+
+She, however, was, for an old person, very active, with all her senses
+about her, and off she trotted after her niece, finding her, after some
+trouble, chattering to Mag, who was hung in a cage before the kitchen
+window. She brought her into the parlour, saying:
+
+"Come, niece, let us follow a good example, and make the best use of
+these quiet morning hours."
+
+Bessy muttered something which Mrs. Goodriche did not choose to hear,
+but when she got into the parlour, she threw herself back on the sofa
+as if she were dying of fatigue.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche handed a Bible to her, saying:
+
+"We will begin the morning with our best book: you shall read a chapter
+whilst I go on with my work; come, find your place--where did we leave
+off?"
+
+Bessy opened the Bible, fetching at the same time a deep sigh, and,
+after some minutes, began to read.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche could have sighed too, but she did not.
+
+Bessy was a most careless reader; she hated all books; indeed, her aunt
+thought that, from never having been exercised in anything but learning
+columns of spelling, she had hardly the power of putting any sense, in
+her own mind, to the simplest story-book which could be put into her
+hands.
+
+It was heavy work to sit and hear her blunder through a chapter; but,
+when that was finished, the kind aunt tried at some little explanation;
+after which she set her to write in a copy-book. Mrs. Goodriche
+dictated what she was to write: it was generally something of what she
+had herself said about the chapter; but what with blots, and bad
+spelling, and crooked lines, poor Bessy's book was not fit to be seen.
+
+This exercise filled up nearly an hour, and a most heavy hour it was:
+and then Mrs. Goodriche produced a story-book--one lent to her by Mrs.
+Fairchild--which, being rather of a large size, did not quite appear to
+be only fit for children; what this book was I do not know.
+
+"Now, my dear," she said, "you will have great pleasure in reading this
+book to me, I am sure; but before we begin I must fetch another bit of
+work: I have done what I brought down."
+
+"La!" said Miss Bessy, "how fond you are of sewing!"
+
+"Don't you remember, Bessy," replied Mrs. Goodriche, "that I never
+attend to anything you say when you begin with 'la'!"
+
+"We always said it at school," she answered.
+
+"May be so," replied Mrs. Goodriche, "and you may say it here, if you
+please; but, as I tell you, I shall never attend to anything you say
+when you put in any words of that kind."
+
+"La!" cried Miss Bessy again, really not knowing that she was saying
+the word.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche went up for her work, and when she returned, as she
+might have expected, her bird was flown; and when she looked for her,
+she saw her amongst some gooseberry bushes, feeding herself as fast as
+she could. When she got her into the parlour again, "Bessy," she said,
+"did you ever read the story of Dame Trot and her Cat?"
+
+"I know it," answered Bessy.
+
+"Now," added Mrs. Goodriche, "I am thinking that I am very like Dame
+Trot; she never left her house but she found her cat at some prank when
+she returned, and I never leave the room but I find you off and at
+some trick or another when I come back; but now for our book."
+
+Bessy, before she took her book, rubbed her hands down the sides of her
+frock to clean them from any soil they might have got from the
+gooseberries. It was a new black cotton, with small white spots, and
+was none the better for having been made a hand-towel.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche saw this neat trick, but she felt that if she found
+fault with everything amiss in her niece, she should have nothing else
+to do; so she let that pass.
+
+Bessy, at last, opened the book and began to read.
+
+The first story began with the account of a lady and gentleman who had
+one son and a daughter, of whom they were vastly fond, and whom they
+indulged in everything they could desire, which (as the writer sagely
+hinted) they had cause to repent before many years had passed.
+
+"Whilst their children were little, there was nothing in the shape of
+toys which were not got for them; dolls, whips, tops, carts, and all
+other sorts of playthings, were heaped up in confusion in their
+play-room; but they were not content with wooden toys--they had no
+delight in those but to break them in pieces. They were ever greedy
+after nice things to eat, and when they got them, made themselves often
+sick by eating too much of them. Once Master Tommy actually ate up----"
+
+In this place Bessy stopped to turn over a leaf with her thumb, and
+then went on, first repeating the last words of the first page.
+
+"--Master Tommy actually ate up the real moon out of the sky."
+
+"What! What!" cried Mrs. Goodriche; "ate the moon? Are you sure,
+Bessy?"
+
+[Illustration: "_'What! What!' cried Mrs. Goodriche._"--Page 305.]
+
+"Yes, it is here," replied Bessy; "the real moon out of the sky--these
+are the very words."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Goodriche; "dear child, you are reading nonsense;
+don't you perceive it?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Bessy, gaping; "I was not attending--what is
+it?"
+
+"Don't you know what you have been reading?" asked Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+"To be sure I do," answered Bessy, "or how could I have told the words
+right?"
+
+"But the sense?" asked Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+"I was not happening," replied Bessy, "just to be thinking about that.
+I was thinking just then, aunt, of the horrid fright Sukey was in when
+the bricks came rolling down, and how she did scream."
+
+"Give me the book," said Mrs. Goodriche, almost at the end of her
+patience; "we will read no more to-day; go up and fetch that
+unfortunate bombazine frock, it must be darned; you have no other here,
+or indeed made, but that you have on."
+
+Away ran Bessy, glad to be moving; and when Mrs. Goodriche had looked
+at the book, she found that Bessy had turned over two leaves,--that
+Tommy had once eaten a whole pound-cake in a very short time, and that
+he had cried the whole of the evening for the real moon out of the sky.
+
+It might have been thought, from the time that she was absent, that
+Bessy had gone to the top of the barn to fetch her frock; the truth is,
+that it was some time before she could find it; she had thrown it on
+the drawers when she had taken it off, and it had slipped down behind
+them, to use an expression of her own. It was all covered over with
+dust, and the trimming crumpled past recovery; but she gave it a good
+shaking, and down she came, not in the least troubled at the accident.
+When she got into the parlour, she found Lucy and Emily seated each
+with her small task of needlework; their other lessons were finished;
+and Mrs. Fairchild, too, appeared with her work.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche had desired to hear the story in Emily's new book, and
+they were each to read four pages at once, then to pass the book; and
+they had settled to begin with the eldest.
+
+"I always think," said Lucy, "that when everything is done but our
+work, it is so comfortable; and when there is to be reading, I work so
+fast."
+
+There was a little delay whilst Bessy was set to darn, and then Mrs.
+Goodriche read her four pages, and read them very pleasantly. The book
+was next given to Mrs. Fairchild, who passed it to Bessy.
+
+"Where does it begin?" she said.
+
+"At the top of the ninth page, Bessy," said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+There was another pause; and then Bessy started much like a person
+running a race, reading as fast as she could, till, like the same
+runner, when he comes to a stumbling-stone, she broke down over the
+first hard word, which happened to be at the end of the second
+sentence.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild gently set her right, and she went on a little till she
+came to another word, which she miscalled, so that Mrs. Goodriche, who
+had not heard the story before, could not understand what she was
+reading about.
+
+Emily looked down, and became quite red.
+
+Lucy looked up full of wonder, and half inclined to smile; but a gentle
+look from her mother reminded her what civility and kindness required
+of her. Her mother's look seemed to say, "You ought to pity and not to
+laugh at one who has not been so well taught as yourself;" and she
+instantly looked down, and seemed to give her whole thoughts to her
+work.
+
+"Bessy," said Mrs. Goodriche, "you had best pass the book to Lucy; I
+am sure that you will try to improve yourself against the next time you
+are asked to read aloud in company."
+
+"I shall never make much of reading, aunt," she answered carelessly; "I
+hate it so."
+
+The reading then went on till one o'clock, and there was enough of the
+story left for another day. The work was then put up, and the children
+were at liberty till dinner-time; but the day was very hot, so there
+could be no walk till the evening.
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Goodriche, "before we part, you shall see something
+out of this bag; it is full of pieces from my old great store-chest;
+there are three pieces of old brocade silk," and she spread them out on
+the table. They all looked as if they had been short sleeves; one was
+green, with purple and gold flowers as large as roses; another was
+pink, what is called _clouded_ with blue, green, and violet: and the
+third was dove-colour, with running stripes of satin. "Now," she said,
+"each of you, my little girls, shall have one of these pieces, and you
+shall make what you please of it; and when you have made the best you
+can of the silk, you shall show your work to me, and I shall see who is
+worthy of more pieces, for I have more in this bag."
+
+"If any of you, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "should want little
+bits of ribbon or lining to help out what you wish to make, I shall
+gladly supply them; indeed," she added, "I may as well give what may be
+wanted now;" and having fetched a bag of odds and ends, she gave out
+some bits of coloured ribbon to suit the silks, with sewing silks and
+linings, such as her bag would afford, placing her gifts in equal
+portions on the three pieces of silk.
+
+"And now," said Mrs. Goodriche, "who is to choose first?"
+
+"Lucy and Emily," said Bessy; and Lucy wished Bessy to choose first.
+After a little while this matter was settled; Emily had the green with
+the golden flowers, Lucy the clouded pink, and Bessy the striped; but
+before they took them from the table, Mrs. Goodriche told them that
+they were only to have them on these conditions--that they were not to
+consult each other about the use they were to make of them; nor to get
+anybody to help in cutting them out, and not to tell what they were
+doing till they brought what they had made to her.
+
+"Then, Lucy, you must not ask me," said Emily; "I will not ask you."
+
+"I shall make no inquiries," said Mrs. Fairchild; "you may work at your
+things in any of your play hours excepting the walking time. Emily may
+work in my room, and Lucy in her own, because you must not be together;
+and if I come into my room, I shall not look at what you are doing,
+Emily."
+
+Lucy and Emily took up their bits, all joy and delight, and full of
+thought; but Bessy was not so well pleased; she hated work as much as
+reading, and perhaps from the same reason, that she had neither got
+over the drudgery of work nor of reading. The beginning of all learning
+is dry, and stupid, and painful; but many things are delightful, when
+we can do them easily, which are most disagreeable when we first begin
+them.
+
+After this day, things passed on till the end of the week much as we
+have said. Lucy and Emily were always very busy in their different
+places, from dinner to tea-time. Henry was often, at those times, with
+John; and where Miss Bessy was Mrs. Goodriche did not know, because she
+had proposed to go and work in Henry's arbour. Her aunt could not
+follow her everywhere, so she only made herself sure that she did not
+go beyond the garden, and she did not ask whether she spent half her
+time in the kitchen, for she was not afraid that Betty would hurt her.
+
+"When am I to see the pieces of work?" said Mrs. Goodriche on the
+Saturday morning.
+
+"Before tea, ma'am," replied Lucy; "Emily and I are ready, but we don't
+know whether Bessy is--we can wait if she is not."
+
+"Oh, I am ready," answered Bessy; "my silk is done."
+
+The tea-things were on the table when Emily came in first with an open
+basket--whatever was in it was hidden by a piece of white paper. Lucy
+followed with a neat little parcel, carefully rolled up; and Bessy
+followed, with a hand in one of her pockets, and a smile on her face,
+though she looked red and rather confused.
+
+"I shall look at the little market-woman with her basket first," said
+Mrs. Goodriche; and Emily went up to her with a sweet pleasant smile,
+as if she felt sure that she had some very pretty things to show. She
+took up the white paper, and discovered three pin-cushions, very nicely
+made: they were so contrived that there was a gold and purple flower in
+the centre of each pin-cushion on both sides: the cushions were square,
+well stuffed, and pinched in the middle of each side; they had a tassel
+at every corner, made of the odd bits of silk roved, and to each of
+them was a long bit of ribbon. Emily's face flushed like a rosebud when
+she laid them on the table. "Very, very good," said Mrs. Goodriche;
+"and you did them all yourself?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Emily. "I made the insides first, and stuffed them
+with bran, before I put the silk on."
+
+"Now for Lucy," said Mrs. Goodriche; and Lucy, opening her parcel,
+showed an old-fashioned housewife with many pockets: she had managed
+her silk so, that the clouds upon it formed borders for the outside
+and each pocket; she had overcast a piece of flannel for the needles,
+and put a card under that part of the housewife; she had lined it to
+make it strong, and had put some ribbon to tie it with, and had made a
+case for it of printed calico, and a button and a button-hole.
+
+"Very, very good, too," said Mrs. Goodriche; "let it be placed by the
+pin-cushions; and now for Bessy."
+
+Bessy began to giggle and to move herself about in a very uneasy way.
+
+"If you have nothing to show, Bessy," said her aunt; "or if you are not
+ready, we will excuse you."
+
+"It does not signify," answered Bessy, "I am as ready now as I ever
+shall be. I can make nothing of the silk."
+
+"Have you lost it?" asked her aunt.
+
+"No," she answered; "I have it--you may as well see it at once;" and
+diving again into her pocket, she brought out what looked very like a
+piece of blotting-paper which had been well used, and laid it on the
+table. "I could not help it," she said; "but I had it on the table one
+morning, when I was in this room alone, and I tumbled over the inkstand
+right upon it; and I thought it was lucky that almost all the ink had
+fallen on the silk, and not on the cloth; so, as it was spoiled
+already, I used it to wipe up the rest of the ink, and that is the
+whole truth."
+
+Mrs. Goodriche, though vexed, could not keep herself from smiling,
+which Bessy seeing, tried to turn the whole affair into a laugh; but it
+was not a merry laugh.
+
+"Well, take it away, my dear," said Mrs. Goodriche; "put it by to wipe
+your pens with;" and away ran Bessy out of the room, not to laugh when
+by herself, but to cry: and this, we are glad to say, was not the first
+time that the poor motherless girl had shed tears for her own follies
+within the last day or two.
+
+When she had left the room, Mrs. Goodriche said:
+
+"Poor young creature! I am sorry for her."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Lucy, "because she has had no mamma for many years;
+but Emily and I begin to love her, she is so good-tempered."
+
+"God will bless her," said Mrs. Fairchild; "He has shown His love by
+giving her a friend who will be a mother to her."
+
+"But now, my little girls," said Mrs. Goodriche, "these things which
+you have made so prettily are your own."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," they both answered; "and may we do what we like
+with them?"
+
+"To be sure," replied Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+"Then," said Emily, "I shall give one to Mary Bush, and another to
+Margery, and another to Mrs. Trueman, for their best pin-cushions."
+
+"And I shall give this housewife to nurse," said Lucy.
+
+"I suppose," said Mrs. Goodriche, "that you will like to have them
+furnished for the poor women; I will give what pins and needles can be
+found on Monday morning; and at the same time I have for each of you a
+piece of nice flowered chintz for your dolls."
+
+The little girls kissed the old lady with all their hearts, and ran
+away with the things which they had made: it was agreed that they were
+not to talk of them again before Bessy.
+
+
+
+
+Bessy's Misfortunes
+
+[Illustration: Bessy was crying most piteously]
+
+
+The Sunday morning was very fine, and there was a nice large party
+going to church together. We have not mentioned Mr. Somers lately, but
+he was still there, and very much beloved. His mother had lately come
+to live with him; she was a very old friend of Mrs. Goodriche, and when
+the two old ladies saw each other from their pews, they were vastly
+pleased. They hastened to meet each other after service; and Mrs.
+Somers begged all Mrs. Goodriche's party to come into the Parsonage
+House, which was close to the church.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild said there were too many for all to go in; so she
+directed Betty to see the young ladies home: they had some way to walk,
+but had hardly got out of the village when Betty said:
+
+"We shall surely have a shower--we shall be caught in the rain if we
+are not sharp."
+
+"May we run, Betty?" asked Lucy and Emily; and having got leave, they
+set off at full speed, and got into the house just in time.
+
+"Come, Miss Goodriche," said Betty; "you can run, I know, as well as
+the best of them, so why don't you set off too? As for me, I have not
+got my best bonnet on, for I foresaw there would be showers, and I have
+nothing else that can hurt. A very few drops would make that pretty
+crape bonnet of yours not fit to be seen."
+
+"We shall be at home before the rain comes," said Bessy; "and I am sure
+that if it is only a few drops they will not hurt my bonnet; I want to
+stay with you. I want to ask you about the people I saw at church.
+Come, now, tell me, Betty, what was that family that sat just before
+us?"
+
+Betty was walking away as fast as she could, and she answered:
+
+"Miss, I can't stop to talk--it has begun to rain behind us on the
+hills; we shall have it in no time; and there is no house this way to
+run into."
+
+"O la! Betty," cried Miss Bessy next; "my shoe-string is unpinned: do,
+for pity, lend me a big pin."
+
+"Why, Miss," said Betty, "sure you don't pin your shoe-strings?"
+
+"Only when I am in a hurry," she answered.
+
+Betty found a pin, and the shoe was put to rights as well as might be;
+but two minutes at least were lost whilst this was being done.
+
+"Now come on, Miss, as fast as you can," said Betty; "the drops are
+already falling on the dust at our feet."
+
+They went on a few paces without another word, and then Miss Bessy
+screamed:
+
+"Oh, Betty, the other string has gone snap: have you another pin?"
+
+"Miss, Miss!" said Betty, fumbling for a pin, and in her hurry not
+being able to find one. Once more Miss Bessy was what soldiers call in
+marching order, and they made, may be, a hundred paces, without any
+other difficulty but the falling of the rain, though as yet it was only
+the skirts of the shower. The house was in view, and was not distant
+three hundred yards by the road, and somewhat less over a field.
+
+"Let us go over the field," said Bessy.
+
+"No, no," replied Betty, bustling on. "If the gate on the other side
+should be locked--and John often keeps it so--we should be quite at
+fault."
+
+"And what sort of a gate must it be," said Bessy, "that you and I could
+not get over?"
+
+"We had better keep the road, Miss," replied Betty; "the grass must be
+wet already with the little rain which is come."
+
+"And yet it has scarce laid the dust in the road," returned Bessy; "so
+if you choose to keep to the road, I shall take the field; so good-bye
+to you;" and the next minute she was over the stile, and running across
+the grass.
+
+Betty looked after her a minute, and then saying, "Those who have the
+care of you have their hands full," she hurried on; but with all her
+haste she was like one who had been dipped in a well before she got in.
+
+Almost the moment in which the two had parted, the shower had come down
+in right good earnest, driving and gathering and splashing the dust up
+on Betty's white stockings, and causing her to be very glad that she
+had not put on her best-made bonnet and new black ribbons. Betty had
+never worn a coloured bonnet in her life.
+
+In the meantime Miss Bessy was flying along the field, throwing up the
+wet at every step from the long grass. The pins in her shoes at first
+acted as spurs, pricking her for many steps, and then crooking and
+giving way; so that she had the comfort of running slipshod the rest of
+the way. Her shoes, being of stuff, were so thoroughly soaked, in a
+little time, that they became quite heavy. The gate at the end of the
+field was locked, of course; who ever came to the end of a field in a
+pelting shower, and did not find it locked? It was a five-barred gate,
+and Bessy could have got over it easily if John had not most carefully
+interlaced the two upper bars with thorns and brambles--for what
+purpose we don't know, but so it was.
+
+Bessy tried to pull some of them out, and in so doing thoroughly soaked
+her gloves, and then only succeeded in pulling aside one or two of
+them; but she mounted the gate, and in coming down, her foot slipping,
+she fell flat on the ground, leaving part of her frock on the thorns,
+which at the time she did not perceive.
+
+"It can't be helped," she thought, as she rose again, and ran on to the
+house without further misfortune. She thought herself lucky in getting
+in by the front door without being seen; and her aunt was not at home,
+which was another piece of luck, she believed; and she hastened to
+change her dress, cramming all her wet things into a closet in the room
+used for hanging up frocks and gowns when taken off. She did not, as it
+happened, throw her frock and bonnet on the floor of the closet; and
+she thought she had been very careful when she hung the frock on a peg
+and the bonnet over it. She had some trouble in getting off her wet
+gloves, which stuck as close to her hands as if they had been part of
+them; and these, with the shoes and other inferior parts of her dress,
+found their places on the floor of the closet. They were all out of the
+way before her aunt could come; for though it had ceased to rain as
+soon as she came in, she knew it would take some time for the walk from
+the Parsonage House.
+
+Such good use did Bessy make of her time that she had clean linen and
+her everyday gown on before Mrs. Goodriche came in.
+
+The first inquiry which Mrs. Fairchild and Mrs. Goodriche made was
+whether the young people and Betty had escaped the shower. Lucy, who
+knew no more than that they had all come in soon after each other,
+answered:
+
+"Oh yes, but we had a run for it."
+
+Betty was not there to tell her story, and Bessy thought it was quite
+as well to let the affair pass.
+
+Thoughtful people often wonder how giddy ones can be so thoughtless as
+they are, and giddy ones wonder how their thoughtful friends can attend
+to so many things as they do. Many persons are naturally thoughtless,
+but this fault may be repaired by management in childhood. Poor Bessy
+had had no such careful management; and her carelessness had come to
+such a pass, that from the time in which she had hung up her wet and
+spoiled clothes in the closet, she troubled herself about them no more
+till the time came when she wanted to put them on.
+
+Still, she learned much, as it proved, from the misfortunes of that
+Sunday. After dinner it began to pour again, and Mrs. Fairchild took
+Bessy with her own children into a quiet room, and there she read the
+Bible and talked to them. Having been well used to talk to children and
+young people, she made all she said so pleasant, that Bessy was quite
+surprised when Betty knocked at the door and said tea was ready.
+
+The rest of the Sunday evening passed off so very pleasantly that even
+Bessy yawned only three times, and that was just before supper--and yet
+it rained--rained--rained.
+
+The next morning rose in great brightness, promising a charming day.
+The forenoon was spent as usual; and after the lessons and work, Mrs.
+Goodriche furnished the pin-cushions and the housewife, and gave out
+the two pieces of chintz for the dolls' frocks; and so busy were the
+old lady and the little girls, that it was time to lay the cloth for
+dinner before the things were quite put away.
+
+Whilst all this business was going on, Bessy was somewhere about in the
+garden.
+
+Now it was not a very common thing for a loud knock to be heard at Mr.
+Fairchild's door. But it was Mr. Somers who knocked, and he came in all
+in a hurry. He came to say that a lady, who lived about two miles
+distant in another parish, had called. He told the lady's name to Mrs.
+Fairchild: and Mrs. Fairchild said she knew her, though they had not
+visited. This lady had a nice house and a pretty orchard; and she had
+come, only an hour before, to say that Miss Pimlico, with all her young
+ladies, were coming to spend the evening with her, and that they were
+to have tea in the open air, and to amuse themselves in any way they
+liked. The lady hoped that Mr. Somers and his mother would come, and
+that they would, if possible, bring with them Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild
+and their nice children, and make a pleasant evening of it.
+
+"We told her that Mrs. Goodriche and her niece were at Mr.
+Fairchild's," added Mr. Somers; "and she said, 'Let them come also, by
+all means; the more the merrier;' and then she kindly entered into what
+carriages we could muster.
+
+"I told her," he continued, "that Mr. Fairchild had a carriage which
+would hold two grown-up persons and three little ones, and that mine
+could do as much if needful; proving that we had even one seat to
+spare--so come, you must all go. Mrs. Goodriche and my mother shall
+have the back seat of my carriage, and I shall make interest for Miss
+Lucy to sit by me in the front seat."
+
+All the children present looked anxiously to hear Mr. Fairchild's
+answer, and glad were they when they heard him say, "At what hour
+should we be ready?"
+
+"At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and Miss Lucy," said
+Mr. Somers. "I have a poor woman to call on by the way, if this lady
+does not object. We may therefore set out about half an hour before
+you. So now, good-bye;" and he walked away.
+
+[Illustration: "_At four I shall hope to call for Mrs. Goodriche and
+Miss Lucy._"--Page 321.]
+
+How merry and happy were the faces round the table at dinner! Mrs.
+Goodriche and Lucy had only just time to get ready before Mr. Somers
+came for them.
+
+When they were gone the rest of the party found it was time to get
+dressed. John brought the carriage to the gate at the time fixed; and
+Henry, who had been watching for it ever since he had been dressed,
+came in to give notice. Emily and her father immediately went to the
+gate; and Mrs. Fairchild, thinking that Bessy might want a little
+attention and help, went to her room. As she knocked at the door she
+thought she heard low sobs within; she called Bessy twice, and no
+answer being given she walked in.
+
+There was a sight indeed! Bessy was sitting at the foot of the bed
+without a frock, and sobbing and crying most piteously. On the floor,
+on one side of her, were her best shoes, shrunk up and wrinkled and
+covered with mud in the most extraordinary way. In another part of the
+floor lay the unfortunate frock, all draggled and splashed round the
+bottom, and, as Mrs. Fairchild could see without lifting it up, wanting
+a part of one breadth. On the drawers was the bonnet, which was of
+reeved crape made upon wire, and not one at all suited for a careless
+girl; but it was made by a milliner at Plymouth. What with soaking,
+crumpling, and here and there a rent from some bough, it had lost all
+appearance of what it had been: it looked a heap of old crape gathered
+carelessly together; and the pair of gloves, much in the state of the
+shoes, were lying near the bonnet on the drawers.
+
+"Oh, ma'am! Oh, Mrs. Fairchild!" cried the unfortunate Bessy, "what can
+I do? What shall I do?"
+
+Mrs. Fairchild lifted up the dress, but as hastily laid it down again,
+for she saw it would take some hours to make it fit to be worn. The
+bonnet, shoes, and gloves all equally required time and attention.
+
+"I am afraid," she said kindly, "it will not do for you to attempt to
+put on these things; and, what is worse, I have none that will fit you.
+My dresses are as much too large as Lucy's are too small."
+
+"Oh, do, dear Mrs. Fairchild," cried the sobbing Bessy, "at least, let
+me try one of your gowns."
+
+Though aware the attempt would be useless, the kind lady brought one of
+her white dresses, to see if anyhow it could be made to fit; but even
+Bessy, after a while, acknowledged it would not do, being so very much
+too large for her.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild next examined the young lady's everyday cotton; but,
+alas! that was too dirty to think of its being shown beside the best
+dresses of the other little misses. Then, too, if a dress could have
+been procured, bonnet, shoes, and gloves would have also been
+requisite; and these could not have been obtained even amongst Miss
+Bessy's own clothes; for if her best were unfit to be seen, her
+commoner ones were scarce worth picking up in the street.
+
+"It will not do, I see," said Miss Bessy; "you had better go without
+me, Mrs. Fairchild."
+
+"I am afraid it must be as you say," replied that lady, "and most
+sincerely sorry am I for you, my dear."
+
+So saying, she left the room, and then came another burst of tears, and
+more sobs, for three or four minutes afterwards.
+
+Bessy, who still sat on the bed, heard the carriage drive away. "Oh,
+how cruel!" she thought, or rather spoke--"how cruel of Mrs. Fairchild
+to go away, and hardly to say one word to me! But I know she despises
+me; she can think nobody worth anything but her own children:" then
+there was another burst of tears, and more sobs.
+
+After a little time, all spent in crying, she heard her door open
+again, and turning round, she saw Mrs. Fairchild come in without her
+bonnet, in her usual dress, and with a work-bag in her hand. She came
+straight up to the weeping girl, and kissing her, "Now, Bessy," she
+said, "wipe away those tears, and we will have a happy and, I hope,
+useful evening. Betty will be ready to help us immediately, and we
+shall set to work and see what we can do in putting your things to
+rights. The carriage is gone with all the rest of the party, and I have
+sent a message to your aunt by Mr. Fairchild. He will make the best of
+the affair, and if you will help, we will try to put all these things
+to rights."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Fairchild," said Bessy, throwing herself into her arms, "and
+have you given up your pleasure for such a naughty girl as I am?"
+
+"I have given up no pleasure so great as I shall receive, dear Miss
+Goodriche, if I can see you trying to do right this evening: trying for
+once to work hard, and to overcome those habits which give your aunt so
+much pain. Come, put on your frock, and let us set to work
+immediately."
+
+The eyes of poor Bessy again filled with tears, but they were tears of
+gratitude and love; and she hastened to put on her frock, and then do
+anything which Mrs. Fairchild directed: and, first of all, the crape
+trimmings were taken from the bonnet and the skirt of the frock; Betty
+was then called, and she took them to her kitchen to do what might be
+done to restore them. The shoes were sent to John to stretch on a last,
+and to brush; and Mrs. Fairchild produced some pieces of bombazine from
+her store, and having matched the colours as well as she could, she
+carefully pinned the piecing, and gave it to Bessy to sew.
+
+Poor Bessy's fingers had never plied so quickly and so carefully
+before. They were put in motion by a feeling of the warmest gratitude
+and love for Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+No punishment, no severity, could have produced the effect wrought by
+this well-timed kindness of Mrs. Fairchild; and it gave to her the
+sweetest hopes of poor Bessy, when she observed how strongly and deeply
+she felt that kindness.
+
+They worked and talked till tea-time, and after tea they set to work
+again. Betty came up about seven o'clock with the crape and the bonnet,
+the plaitings of which--for it was a reeved bonnet--she had smoothed
+with a small Italian iron, and restored wonderfully. Then she sat down
+and sewed with Miss Bessy at the frock, whilst Mrs. Fairchild trimmed
+the bonnet.
+
+At eight o'clock the work was got on so finely that Bessy cried out:
+
+"Another half-hour, if they will but stay away, and it will be done;
+and oh, how I do thank you, dear Mrs. Fairchild, and dear Betty! I will
+really try in future to do better; I never wished to do better as I do
+now."
+
+"There is an early moon, miss," said Betty; "I should not wonder if
+they stayed till it was up."
+
+It struck nine, and they were not come; another five minutes and the
+work was finished. Bessy jumped up from the foot of the bed and kissed
+Mrs. Fairchild first, and then Betty; and then came a bustle to put
+everything away.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild showed Bessy how to lay aside her bonnet in the bandbox,
+and her frock in a drawer, with a clean handkerchief over each. The
+tippet, which was the only one thing which had escaped mischief, for
+the plain reason that it had not been worn on the Sunday with the
+frock, was laid in the same drawer; and then the needles and silk and
+cotton were collected, and the bits and shreds picked up, and the room
+restored to order as if nothing wonderful had happened.
+
+The last thing Mrs. Fairchild did in that room was to take up the
+gloves and give them to Betty, to see what could be done with them the
+next day, and then she, with the happy young girl, put on shawls and
+walked on the gravel before the house, for it was still hot.
+
+"Well, we have had a happy, happy evening, dear Mrs. Fairchild," said
+Bessy; "I never thought I should love you so much."
+
+The party did not come home till ten o'clock; they had had such an
+evening as Lucy and Emily had never known before; but they had often
+thought of poor Bessy, and wished for her many times, and their mother
+too. Mrs. Goodriche had also been uneasy about Bessy. How surprised,
+then, they were to see her looking so cheerful, and Mrs. Fairchild also
+seeming to be equally happy.
+
+"I will tell you all about it when we get to our room, aunt," whispered
+Bessy; "but I do not deserve such kindness. Mrs. Fairchild says I had
+better not speak about it now."
+
+They had had tea and a handsome supper; so when they had talked the
+evening over, and Mr. Fairchild had read a chapter, they all went to
+their rooms.
+
+
+
+
+The History of Little Bernard Low
+
+[Illustration: Bessy was very sorry to leave her young friends]
+
+
+The rest of Mrs. Goodriche's visit passed off very quietly and very
+pleasantly. Bessy became from day to day more manageable, and Lucy and
+Emily began to love her very much.
+
+Mrs. Goodriche was inquiring everywhere for a house close by, and there
+was none which seemed as if it could be made to suit her. She and Bessy
+returned home therefore at the end of a fortnight, and Bessy was very
+sorry to leave her young friends.
+
+It was four or five days after Mrs. Goodriche had left them before Mr.
+Fairchild proposed that they should read that famous book which Henry
+talked so much about.
+
+"But where shall we go to read it?" he asked.
+
+"Oh! to the hut in the wood, papa, if you please," answered Lucy; and
+in less than an hour everybody was ready to set out: and when everybody
+was seated as they had been the time before, the book was opened, and
+Lucy waited to read only till Henry and Emily had seen the picture at
+the beginning. I will tell you what the picture was when we come to the
+place of it in the story.
+
+
+The History of Little Bernard Low
+
+_THE STORY IN HENRY'S BOOK_
+
+"Mr. Low was a clergyman, and had a good living in that part of this
+country where the hills of Wales extend towards the plains of England,
+forming sweet valleys, often covered with woods, and rendered fruitful
+and beautiful by rills which have their sources in the distant hills.
+
+"Mr. Low never had but one brother; this brother had been a wild boy,
+and had run away many years before, and never had been heard of since.
+
+"The name of the valley in which Mr. Low's living was situated was
+Rookdale; his own house stood alone amongst woods and waterfalls, but
+there was a village nearer to the mouth of the valley, and in that
+village, besides some farmers and many cottagers, lived another
+clergyman of the name of Evans. He was a worthy humble man, and came
+from the very wildest parts of Wales. He was a needy man, and was
+forced to work hard to get a decent living for himself, his sister,
+Miss Grizzy Evans, and an orphan nephew, Stephen Poppleton. Mr. Low
+gave him fifty pounds a year to help him in the care of his parish,
+which spread far and wide over the high grounds which surrounded
+Rookdale; and he added something to his gains by teaching the children
+of the farmers in the parish, and by taking in two or three boys as
+boarders; he could not take many, because his house was small and
+inconvenient. We shall know more of Mr. Evans when we have read the few
+next pages.
+
+"Mr. Low's living was a very good one, and brought in much money. The
+house too was good, and he kept several servants, and lived
+handsomely. He had had four children, but two of them were dead. Mr.
+Low had but one daughter, her name was Lucilla; and the two eldest were
+sons, Alfred and Henry. Henry died a baby, but Alfred lived till he was
+eight years old, and then died, and was buried by the side of his
+infant brother. The fourth and last child of Mr. and Mrs. Low was
+Bernard; he was more than five years younger than Lucilla.
+
+"When Bernard was born, it seemed as if no one could make too much of
+him. The old woman, Susan Berkley, who had been Mr. Low's own nurse,
+and had always lived in the family, was so fond of Bernard that she
+could not refuse him anything; and Mrs. Low was what people call so
+wrapped up in her boy, that she could never make enough of him. In this
+respect she was very weak, but those who have lost children well know
+how strong the temptation is to over-indulge those who are left. At
+first Mr. Low did not observe how far these plans of indulgence were
+being carried; indeed, he did not open his eyes fully to the mischief
+till Bernard was become one of the most troublesome, selfish boys in
+the whole valley. At five years old he was the torment of the whole
+house, though even then he was cunning enough to hide some of his worst
+tempers from his father. He had found out that when he pretended to be
+ill, mother, nurse, and sister were all frightened out of their senses,
+and that at such times he could get his way in everything, however
+improper. He did not care what pain he gave them if he could get what
+he wanted.
+
+"His father, however, did at length find out the mischief that was
+going on; and as he feared that his wife and nurse would not have the
+firmness to check the boy if he remained always at home, he proposed
+that Bernard should be sent as a day boarder to Mr. Evans. His father
+wished that he should go every morning after breakfast, dine at school,
+and return to tea.
+
+"'I have been much to blame,' said Mr. Low, 'in not speaking before of
+the way in which Bernard has been managed. I blame myself greatly for
+this neglect, and I now feel that no more time must be lost; and I
+think it will be easier for us to part with him for a few hours every
+day, than to send him to a distance.'
+
+"Mrs. Low was a gentle person, and wished to do right; she shed tears,
+but made no resistance. Lucilla thought that her papa was right; she
+had lately seen how naughty Bernard was getting; so Mr. Low had no
+opposition either from his wife or daughter. When nurse, however, was
+told that her darling was to go to school to Parson Evans, she was very
+angry; and though she did not dare to speak her mind to her master, she
+had no fear of telling it to her mistress and the young lady.
+
+"'Well, to be sure,' she said, 'master has curious notions, to think of
+sending such a delicate babe as Master Bernard to be kicked about by a
+parcel of boys, and to be made to eat anything that's set before him,
+whether he likes it or not. So good a child as he is too: so meek and
+so tender, that if he but suspects a cross word, he is ready to jump
+out of himself, and falls a-crying and quaking, and won't be appeased
+anyhow, till the fit's over with him. Indeed, mistress, if you give him
+up in this point, I won't say what the consequences may be.'
+
+"'But, nurse,' said Lucilla, 'really Bernard does want to be kept a
+little in order.'
+
+"'And that from you, Miss?' answered the nurse; 'what would you feel,
+was you to see him laid in his grave beside his precious little
+brothers?'
+
+"Lucilla could not answer this question, and Mrs. Low could not speak
+for weeping; so nurse was left to say all she chose; and as Bernard
+came in before she had cooled herself down, she told him what was
+proposed, and said it would break her heart to part with him only for a
+few hours every day.
+
+"On hearing this, Bernard thought it a proper occasion to show off his
+meek spirit, and so much noise did he make, and so rebellious and
+stubborn was his behaviour, that his father, who heard him from a
+distance, made up his mind to go that very evening to speak about him
+to Mr. Evans. Mr. Low did not find the worthy man at home; he had
+walked out with his nephew and three boys who boarded in the house; but
+Mr. Low found Miss Evans in a small parlour, dressed, as she always was
+in an evening, with some pretensions to fashion and smartness: she was
+very busy with a huge basket of stockings, which she was mending.
+
+"When Mr. Low told her his business, she was quite delighted, for she
+had lived in that humble village till she thought Mr. Low one of the
+greatest men in the world, because she never saw any greater. She
+answered for her brother that he would receive Master Bernard and give
+him every care; 'and for me, sir,' she added, 'I promise you that the
+young gentleman shall have the best of everything our poor table will
+afford.'
+
+"'I wish,' replied Mr. Low, 'that he may be treated exactly as the
+other boys, my good madam, and no bustle whatever made with him.'
+
+"Soon after Mr. Low was gone, Mr. Evans and his nephew, and three
+pupils, passed the parlour window. Miss Grizzy tapped on the glass, and
+beckoned to her brother to come to her, which he did, immediately
+followed by his nephew.
+
+"'Who do you think has been here, brother, whilst you have been out?'
+said she; 'who but Mr. Low?' and she told him what Mr. Low had come
+for, and that she had undertaken that Master Bernard should be
+received.
+
+"'Very good, sister,' replied Mr. Evans, 'all is well;' and he went out
+again at the parlour door, seeming to be much pleased. Stephen remained
+behind, and the moment the door was shut, he said:
+
+"'You seem to be much set up, Aunt Grizzy, at the thought of this boy's
+coming; you must know, surely, that he is a shocking spoiled child, and
+that there will be no possibility of pleasing him.'
+
+"'We must try, however,' answered Miss Evans; 'I know, as well as you
+can do, what he is, a little proud, petted, selfish thing: for is he
+not the talk of the parish? I have often wondered how Mr. Low could
+have been so long blind to the need of sending him to school; but then
+think, nephew, Mr. Low offers as much as if the boy boarded here
+entirely, and he is only to dine; and I doubt not but that there will
+be pretty presents too--you know that both Mr. and Mrs. Low are very
+thoughtful in that way.'
+
+"'But if you can't keep the little plague in good humour,' answered
+Stephen, 'instead of presents we may have disputes and quarrels; and
+where will you be then, aunt?'
+
+"'I hope, Stephen, that you will not be creating these quarrels; that
+you will bear and forbear, and pay Master Low proper respect, and see
+that Meekin and Griffith and Price do the same: you know well that not
+one of them are of such high families as Master Low.'
+
+"'You had best not say that to Griffith, aunt,' answered Stephen; 'he
+has a very high notion, I can tell you, of his family, though his
+father is only a shopkeeper.'
+
+"Miss Evans put up her lip and said:
+
+"'Well, mind me, Stephen, no quarrelling, I say, with Master Low, at
+least on your part; so now walk off to your place.'
+
+"When nurse had said all that was in her mind, she became more calm
+upon the subject of Bernard's going to school; and so thoroughly did
+the child tease during the few days that passed before he went, that
+she was almost obliged to confess to herself that it was not altogether
+a very bad thing that he was to have lessons to learn, and some
+employment from home during part of every day.
+
+"But when Bernard was actually to go, there was such a to-do about it,
+that he might just as well have stayed at home, as to any good which
+might be expected from it in the way of making him think less of
+himself.
+
+[Illustration: "_But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a
+to-do about it._"--Page 332.]
+
+"Lucilla had had a little pony for several years; this pony was to be
+saddled for Bernard, and he was to ride to and from school, whilst a
+servant attended him. His mother took the occasion to send a present of
+fruit and nice vegetables by this servant to Miss Grizzy; and there was
+a note written to Mr. Evans all about Bernard, and a great deal said in
+it about getting his feet wet; and shoes were sent that he might change
+them when he came in from play. Nurse also was sent down about two
+hours after him, with some messages to Miss Evans and to hear how the
+darling got on.
+
+"Bernard was very sulky all that first morning. He was quite eight
+years old; Mr. Evans therefore was much surprised at his being a very
+poor reader. Indeed he could not in any way stammer out the first
+chapter in the Bible, and Mr. Evans was obliged to put him into the
+spelling-book at the first page. He called him up between each Latin
+lesson he gave, but found that each time he called him, he read rather
+worse than the time before. The simple truth is that he did not choose
+to do better.
+
+"Griffith whispered to Meekin, the last time Bernard was up, 'Mind what
+I say, he is no better than a fool;' and Meekin passed the same words
+to Price, and then it was a settled thing with these three boys, that
+Bernard Low was a fool, and a very proper person to play any fun upon.
+
+"But whilst these boys were settling this matter amongst them, Miss
+Grizzy had sent for Stephen into the parlour, and given him some of the
+fine pears and walnuts which Mrs. Low had sent.
+
+"'Here, nephew,' she said, 'is the earnest of many more little presents
+which we may expect; but everything depends on your behaviour to the
+boy. We must keep him in good humour--we must show him every possible
+favour in a quiet way, and you must not let Griffith and the others
+tease him.'
+
+"'This is an uncommon good pear,' said Stephen, as he bit a great piece
+out of one of them.
+
+"'Is it not?' replied his aunt; 'but, Stephen, do you hear me? you must
+not let Griffith be playing his tricks on Master Low.'
+
+"'I understand,' answered Stephen, taking another bite at the pear.
+'Don't you think I know on which side my bread is buttered yet, aunt?'
+he asked; 'though I am near fifteen years of age, and half through
+Homer? but you must allow that Bernard Low is an abominably
+disagreeable fellow, and one that one should like to duck in a
+horse-pond--a whining, puling, mother-spoiled brat; however, I will see
+that he shan't be quizzed to his face, and I suppose that's all you
+require, is not it?'
+
+"So he put all that remained of what his aunt had given him of the
+fruit into his pocket, for himself, and left the room. He went straight
+to the yard where the boys played, and scarcely got there in time to
+hinder Griffith from beginning his tricks with Bernard, for he had got
+a piece of whipcord, and was insisting that the boy should be tied with
+it between Meekin and Price, and that they should be the team and he
+the driver; and a pretty run would the first and last horse have given
+the middle one, had Griffith's plan been executed.
+
+"Bernard was already beginning to whine and put his finger in his eye,
+when Stephen came in and called out:
+
+"'Eh, what's that there? David Griffith, let the child alone; he has
+not been used to your horseplay.'
+
+"And as Stephen was much bigger and stronger than the other boys, they
+all thought it best to give way.
+
+"Bernard was let off, and he walked away, not in the best of tempers,
+into the house, and into Miss Evans's own parlour, where she was seated
+at her usual employment, darning stockings.
+
+"'Well, Master Low,' she said, 'I hope you find everything agreeable; I
+am sure it shall not be my fault if you do not; you have only to say
+the word and anything you don't like shall be changed, if it is in my
+power.'
+
+"'I don't like that boy,' answered Bernard; 'that David Griffith.'
+
+"'Never mind him, never mind him, Master Low,' replied Miss Evans; 'any
+time that he don't make himself agreeable, only come to me; I am always
+glad to see you here to sit in my parlour, and warm yourself if it is
+cold. You know how much I respect your papa and mamma; there is nothing
+I would not do for them.'
+
+"Bernard had been so much used to flattery and fond words, that he did
+not value them at all; he thought that they were only his due; and he
+did not so much as say 'Thank you' to Miss Evans, nor even look smiling
+nor pleasant; but he walked up to her round table, and curiously eyed
+the large worsted stocking which she was darning--'Whose is that?' he
+said.
+
+"'My brother's, Master Low,' she answered.
+
+"'Does he wear such things as those?' said Bernard; 'but I suppose he
+must, because he is poor, and a curate, and a schoolmaster--my papa
+wears silk.'
+
+"'Your papa,' said Miss Evans, 'is a rich man, Master Low, and a
+rector; and he can afford many things we must not think of.'
+
+"'When shall we dine?' asked the boy.
+
+"'Very soon, my dear,' answered Miss Evans.
+
+"And then Master Bernard turned off to some other question, as
+impertinently expressed as those he had put before.
+
+"The dinner was set out in the room used for a schoolroom; an
+ill-shaped room, with walls that had been washed with salmon colour,
+but which were all scratched and inked. Each boy had a stool to sit
+upon; the cloth was coarse, though clean, and all the things set upon
+the table were coarse also.
+
+"When called to dinner by a rough maidservant, Miss Evans led Bernard
+in by the hand, and set him by herself on a chair at the _head_ of the
+table.
+
+"'Sister,' said Mr. Evans, in a low voice, 'last come, last
+served--Master Low should sit below Price.'
+
+"'Leave me to judge for myself, brother,' answered Miss Evans; 'you may
+depend on my judgment.'
+
+"And Bernard kept his seat, and had the nicest bits placed on his
+plate.
+
+"Bernard would have been quite as well contented, or, perhaps we may
+say, not in the least more discontented, had he been set down at once
+in his proper place, and served after the other boys.
+
+"Then the other boys were not quite pleased; but Stephen was told to
+tell them that Master Low was a parlour-boarder; and though they did
+not quite understand what a parlour-boarder meant, they thought it
+meant something, and that Bernard was to have some indulgences which
+they were not to have.
+
+"Many a trick would they have played him, no doubt, if Stephen had not
+watched them. But as Stephen hated the spoiled child as much as they
+did, he never hindered their speaking ill of him, and quizzing him,
+when he did not hear or understand.
+
+"Griffith soon gave him a nickname--this name was Noddy; there was no
+wit in it, but the boys found great amusement in talking of this Noddy,
+and of all his faults and follies, before the face of Bernard himself.
+When he asked who this Noddy was, they told him that they were sure he
+must have seen him very often, for his family lived at Rookdale.
+
+"Mr. Evans himself was the only person in the family at school who
+really strove to do his duty by Bernard--he gave his heart to improve
+him; and he did get him on in his learning more than might have been
+expected. But there were too many things against the poor child to make
+it possible for him to improve his temper and his character.
+
+"He went to school from the autumn until Christmas: at Christmas he was
+at home for a month, and made even his nurse long for the end of the
+holidays; and then he went again after the holidays, and continued to
+go every day till the spring appeared again. There was no intention
+then of changing the plan, though Mr. Low was not at all satisfied with
+him.
+
+"Bernard was now become so cunning that he did not show the worst of
+his tempers before his father, nor even before his mother; but to his
+sister he appeared just as he was, and he often made her very, very
+sad by his naughty ways.
+
+"Lucilla was one of those young people who love God and all their
+fellow-creatures, and desire to do them good. She had always loved
+Bernard, and she loved him still, though she saw him getting more and
+more naughty from day to day. She believed, however, that he still
+loved her as well as he could love any person besides himself, and she
+thought a long time of some way which she might take to make him
+sensible of his faults.
+
+"During that winter she had often spoken to him in her kind and gentle
+way, and shown him the certain end of evil behaviour; but she felt that
+he paid no more attention to her than he would have done to the buzzing
+of a fly; but now that the spring was come, and they could get out
+together into the fields and gardens and woods, before and after
+school-time, and on half-holidays, she thought she might have a better
+chance with him, and she formed a thousand plans for making the time
+they might thus pass together pleasant, before she could hit upon one
+which she thought might do.
+
+"In a shadowy and sweet nook of the garden was an artificial piece of
+rock-work, which her mother, when first married, had caused to be made
+there, the fragments of rock having been brought from a little
+distance. There Lucilla, with the gardener's assistance, scooped a
+hollow place, a few feet square, and arranged a pretty little
+hermitage: dressing a doll like an old man, and painting a piece of
+glass to fix in the back of the hermitage, to look like the window of a
+chapel. She next sent and bought a few common tools, and thought, as
+Bernard was very fond of clipping and cutting, she could tempt him to
+work to help finish this hermitage. There was a root-house close to the
+place, where she thought they might set to work at this business. 'And
+if I can but engage Bernard,' she said to herself, 'to use his fingers,
+I might perhaps now and then say something to soften him, and make him
+feel it is wrong to go on as he does.'
+
+"Mr. Evans always gave a week's holiday at Whitsuntide, and Lucilla
+thought that this should be her time for trying what she could do with
+Bernard."
+
+[Illustration: But when Bernard was actually to go there was such a
+to-do]
+
+
+
+
+Second Part of the History of Little Bernard Low
+
+[Illustration: "Let us sit here under the shade of a tree"]
+
+_SECOND PART OF HENRY'S STORY_
+
+
+"Meekin and Griffith and Price went home to spend the Whitsun holidays
+on the Saturday evening, and Bernard came home also, with the
+expectation of an idle time, which was to last till the Monday after
+the next.
+
+"The weather was very fine; all the early shrubs and flowers were in
+bloom, the cuckoo was still in the woods, and the leaves had not lost
+their tender young green.
+
+"The young men in Rookdale were very fond of ringing the bells when
+there was a holiday, and they rang away great part of Sunday and of
+Monday also.
+
+"The bells were soft and sweet, though rather sad; but the lads in the
+belfry found nothing sad in pulling at the ropes, and going up and down
+with them.
+
+"Lucilla missed Bernard during several hours of the Sunday; she did not
+guess that he had gone into the belfry with the young men, and that he
+had persuaded the cook to give him a jug of beer to send to them. The
+men would not let him pull a bell, as he was not strong enough--even
+the beer would not tempt them.
+
+"The Monday morning was as bright as the Sunday had been, and it was
+enough to make the old young again to hear the man who was mowing the
+lawn whetting his scythe whilst the dew was on the grass, and the
+various songs of the birds in the trees.
+
+"Lucilla had fixed upon this day to show Bernard the hermitage; but she
+was rather put out, when she came down to breakfast, to see that there
+was a very sulky flush on his cheeks, and that he was complaining of
+his father to his mother, whilst his father was not in the room.
+
+"'Now, mamma,' said Bernard, 'do ask papa; it's a holiday, and a fine
+day, and I want to go. And why can't I go? Papa is so cross.'
+
+"'My dear, you can't go to L---- (that was the nearest town to
+Rookdale) to-day,' replied his mother; 'your papa is too busy to ride
+with you.'
+
+"'Can't John go?' asked Bernard.
+
+"'He is engaged also,' said Mrs. Low.
+
+"'Can't Ralph go?' returned Bernard.
+
+"'Ralph is too young to be trusted with your papa's horse,' said Mrs.
+Low.
+
+"'But I must go.'
+
+"'But indeed you can't.'
+
+"'I can walk. What's to hinder my walking?'
+
+"'Now do be content, my dear--stay with your sister--she has nothing to
+do but to be with you;' and thus the mother and son went on until Mr.
+Low came in, and then Bernard became what Griffith would have called
+glum, for Griffith used many odd words.
+
+"There was no more said about going to L---- after Mr. Low came in; but
+it was quite certain that Bernard's sour looks were not lost on his
+father.
+
+"When breakfast was over, Lucilla said:
+
+"'Now, Bernard, come with me--I have a pleasure for you.' When she had
+put on her bonnet she led him to her grotto, and showed him what she
+had done already, and gave him the tools and some little bits of wood,
+and said, 'Now you must make my hermit a table and a chair--he must
+have a table; and whilst you make these I will finish his dress, and
+fasten the flax on for his beard, and make him a rosary with beads.'
+
+"Lucilla watched her brother's face whilst she showed him the things,
+and told him what she hoped he would do; and she saw that he never
+smiled once. Spoiled children sometimes laugh loud, but they smile very
+little; they have generally very grave faces.
+
+"When they had looked at the grotto, they went into the root-house;
+there were seats round it, and a table in the middle. Lucilla sat down,
+and pulled her needle and thread and beads and bits of silk and cloth
+out of her basket; and Bernard sat down too with the tools and bits of
+wood and board before him.
+
+"He first took up one tool and then another, and examined them, and
+called them over. There was a nail-passer, and a hammer, and a strong
+knife, and one or two more things very useful to a young boy in making
+toys, or anything else in a small way; in short, everything that was
+safe for such a one to have. But Bernard was out of humour, and looked
+for something to find fault with, so of course he could find nothing to
+please him.
+
+"'This nail-driver is too small, Lucilla,' he said; 'where did you get
+it?'
+
+"'At L----,' she answered.
+
+"'What did you give for it?' he asked. 'If you gave much, they have
+cheated you; and the hammer, what did you give for that?'
+
+"Lucilla either did not remember, or did not choose to tell him; and,
+without noticing his questions, she said:
+
+"'What will you make first?'
+
+"Bernard did not answer.
+
+"'Suppose you take this little square bit of deal,' said Lucilla, 'and
+put legs to it, Bernard?'
+
+"The boy took up the deal, turned it about, and, as Lucilla hoped, was
+about to prepare a leg; for he took up a slender slip of wood, and
+began paring it. She then went on with her work, looking up from time
+to time, whilst Bernard went on cutting the slip. He pared and pared,
+and notched awhile, till that slip was reduced to mere splinters. Still
+Lucilla seemed to take no notice, but began to talk of anything she
+could think of. Amongst other things, she talked of the pleasant week
+they had before them, and of a scheme which their father had proposed
+of their all going to drink tea some evening at a cottage in the wood;
+she said, how pleasant it would be for them all to be together. No
+answer again--Bernard had just spoiled another slip of wood, which he
+finished off by wilfully snapping it in two; after which he stared his
+sister full in the face, as if he was resolved to make her notice him.
+
+"She saw what he was about, and therefore seemed as if she did not even
+see him. She was sad, but she went on talking. The bells had struck up
+again: they sounded sweetly, and they seemed sometimes to come as if
+directly from the church, and then again as if from the woods and hills
+on the opposite side. Lucilla remarked how odd this was, and said she
+could not account for it; and then she added, 'Do you know, Bernard,
+that I never hear bells ring without thinking of Alfred? he used to
+love to hear them; he called them music, and once asked me if there
+would be bells in heaven. I was very little then, only in my seventh
+year, and I told him that there would be golden bells in heaven,
+because the pilgrims had heard them ring when they were waiting in the
+Land of Beulah to go over the River of Death.'
+
+"'I say,' said Bernard, 'these bits of wood are not worth burning.'
+
+"'You cut into them too deeply,' answered Lucilla.
+
+"'There goes!' returned Bernard, snapping another; then, laying down
+the knife, he took up the nail-passer, using it to bore a hole in the
+board which formed the table of the root-house.
+
+"'You must not do that,' said Lucilla, almost drawn out of her
+patience.
+
+"'Who says so?' answered Bernard.
+
+"'It is mischief,' said Lucilla. 'It is papa's table; he will be vexed
+if he sees it.'
+
+"'What for?' said the tiresome boy.
+
+"Lucilla did not answer.
+
+"'What for?' repeated Bernard, throwing down the nail-passer, and
+taking up the hammer, with which he knocked away on the place where he
+had made the hole.
+
+"'Oh, my beads!' cried his sister; for the hammering had overturned the
+little box in which they were, and she had only time to save them, or
+most of them, from rolling down on the gravel.
+
+"'Well,' said Bernard, 'if that does not please you, what can I do
+next?'
+
+"Lucilla sighed; she could not speak at the moment, she was so very
+sad, and so much disappointed.
+
+"'I thought,' said Bernard, after a minute, 'that you promised me a
+pleasure. What is it?'
+
+"Lucilla's eyes filled with tears; she rubbed them hastily away, and
+went on working, though without any delight in her work.
+
+"Bernard yawned, then stretched; and after a while he said:
+
+"'Come, Lucilla, let us have a walk.'
+
+"'Anything,' thought Lucilla, 'that will put you into a better state of
+mind.' So she gathered up her work, put it into her basket, and arose,
+leaving the tools and the work on her table; then, giving one sad look
+at her grotto, she led the way to a wicket not very far off, which
+opened on a path made by her father through some part of the large and
+beautiful wood which skirted part of the garden. Bernard followed her,
+and they went on together for some time in silence.
+
+"The path first led them down into a deep hollow, through the bottom of
+which ran a pure stream of water, which had its source in the hills
+above. The rays of the sun, which here and there shone through the
+trees, sparkled and danced in the running stream. A gentle breeze was
+rustling among the leaves; and besides the song of many birds, the
+clear note of the cuckoo was heard from some distance.
+
+"The path led them to a little bridge of a single plank and a
+hand-rail, over which they crossed, and began to go up still among
+woods to the other side, where the bank was very much more steep.
+
+"Still they spoke not: Lucilla was thinking of Bernard, and grieving
+for his wayward humours; and Bernard was thinking that Lucilla was not
+half such good company as Ralph the stable-boy, or even as Miss Evans
+or Stephen; and yet he had some sort of love for Lucilla, though he did
+not like her company. He was, however, the first to speak.
+
+"'Lucilla,' he said, 'do you know a lad in the parish called Noddy?'
+
+"'Noddy?' replied Lucilla.
+
+"'There is such a one,' said Bernard; 'Griffith knows him well, and
+they say he is the oddest fellow--a sort of fool, and everybody's
+laughing-stock. They will have it that I have seen him often; but if I
+have, I don't know him.'
+
+"'There may be many boys in the parish unknown to me,' answered
+Lucilla.
+
+"'I have asked Ralph about him,' said Bernard; 'but I can't get
+anything out of him; he always falls a-laughing when I speak the word.'
+
+"Lucilla felt herself more and more sad about her brother, and said to
+him:
+
+"'Really, Bernard, you are too intimate with Ralph; he may be a very
+good boy, but you ought not to be so free with him as you are.'
+
+"Bernard walked on, and made no answer.
+
+"It was rather hard work, even for these two young people, to climb
+this bank, which was, indeed, the foot of a very steep hill; at last
+they came out on one side of the wood, on a very sweet field, covered
+with fine grass, but nearly as steep as the path by which they had
+come. The prospect from the top of this field was very lovely, for
+immediately below was the deep dell in which the water flowed, and up a
+little above it their father's house and garden, and beyond that the
+tower of the church and the trees in the churchyard were seen; and
+still farther on, hills of all shapes, near and far off, and woods, and
+downs, and farmhouses. What pleased the little girl most was a road
+which looked like a white thread winding away over the heights, and
+passing out of sight near around hill, with a clump of firs at the top.
+
+"'Let us sit down here under the shade of a tree,' said Lucilla; and
+she sat down, whilst Bernard stretched himself by her side.
+
+"Lucilla began to speak, after their long silence, by pointing out the
+different things which they saw before them, telling the names of the
+hills, and showing the farm-houses.
+
+"'And there,' she said, 'look at that winding road and that round hill.
+Beyond that hill is a common covered with gorse, where there are many
+rabbits, and also many sheep. Nurse's son lives on that common: he was
+papa's foster-brother. You know he is nurse's only child, and has got a
+pretty cottage there. When poor little Alfred was beginning to get weak
+and unwell, soon after Henry died; and mamma was ill too, and obliged
+to go somewhere for her health, it was advised by the doctors that
+Alfred should also change the air: and as the air of that common was
+thought very fine, I went with my brother and nurse to spend the summer
+at her son's cottage; and, Bernard, though I was then but six years
+old, I remember everything there as if I had left it but yesterday, for
+nurse has so often talked about that time to me.
+
+"'Sweet little Alfred! He seemed to get quite well and strong; he rode
+about the common on a donkey sometimes, and sometimes he played with
+me, and sometimes we used to sit on the little heaps covered with sweet
+short herbs, and talk of many things.
+
+"'His chief delight was to talk of some place far away, where he always
+fancied we were to go soon: he was to see Henry there, and Henry would
+have wings, and his Saviour would be with them to take care of them,
+and I was to come, and papa and mamma. I suppose that he spoke the
+words of a baby; but the thoughts which were in his heart were very
+sweet. He was merry, too, Bernard, more merry than you are, and full of
+little tricks to make me laugh. But when we had been three months at
+the cottage he grew languid and pale again; he was brought home, and
+from that time grew worse and worse; and he died before Christmas. Oh,
+Bernard, he was the gentlest, sweetest child--so pale! so beautiful!'
+
+"Lucilla for a minute could say no more; she covered her face with her
+hands, and large tears fell from her eyes. Bernard did not speak, but
+he had an odd feeling in his throat, and wished that Lucilla was not
+there to see him cry, for he felt he wanted to cry.
+
+"Lucilla soon spoke again, and went on in the kindest, most gentle way,
+to tell her brother how much more bitter his ill-behaviour was to their
+mother than even the death of her elder boys; saying everything which a
+loving, gentle girl could say to lead him to better behaviour.
+
+"Suddenly, whilst she was speaking, she saw her father and mother
+coming from the little wicket which lay in full view below them, and
+taking their way slowly, and as if talking to each other, along the
+path in the wood. Sometimes the trees partly hid them, then Lucilla saw
+them clearly again, and then not at all. She pointed them out to
+Bernard, and said:
+
+"'Now, now, dear brother, is your time; you can run down one bank and
+up another in a few minutes; you can run to mamma, and beg her pardon
+for being sullen and disobedient to her this morning at breakfast; and
+then, my dear, dear brother, you will have made a good beginning, and
+we shall all be so happy.'
+
+"Bernard had laid himself at full length on the grass, amusing himself,
+whilst his sister spoke, with kicking his legs. He was trying with all
+his might and main to harden himself against what she said; and
+succeeded in making himself as stupid as a mere brick.
+
+"When she pressed him to run to his father, he drew up his legs and lay
+with his knees above all the rest of him, and his eyes staring up to
+the tree above his head, so that an owl could not have looked more
+stupid.
+
+"Lucilla felt more sad than she had done before, when she saw how
+determined he was not to listen to her. She knew not what next to do or
+say; but whilst she was thinking, a dog was heard to bark on the other
+side the hedge which was behind them, and a voice saying, 'Be quiet,
+Pincher.'
+
+"'Why, that is Stephen,' cried Bernard, jumping on his feet; 'what can
+he be doing here?'
+
+"He flew to the hedge, he sprang up the bank, and called to Stephen,
+who was walking along the path on the other side with his dog Pincher.
+
+"'Stop, stop!' cried Bernard; 'stop and I will come to you. Good-bye,
+Lucilla, you can go home by yourself;' and the next minute the rude boy
+had tumbled over the fence, and was running after Stephen.
+
+"Poor Bernard little thought what he lost when he refused to listen to
+Lucilla, and what great pleasure he would have gained, had he done what
+she required of him, and run to beg his father's pardon.
+
+"No one can say what a day may bring forth; and who could have foreseen
+the very strange thing which had happened whilst Lucilla and Bernard
+were out that morning? It was an affair of very serious business, which
+must be told: but as most young people hate business, it shall be told
+as shortly as possible.
+
+"Mr. Low's brother had been a very wild boy, and had run away; so that
+for many years Mr. Low had heard nothing about him. At last he got a
+letter; it was a kind and humble one: in this letter Mr. John Low sent
+word, that after many adventures he had made some money, and bought a
+farm in America, on the banks of the Hudson, above New York; that he
+was doing very well, that he had never married, and only wished that
+his brother would come and see him. Mr. Low had answered this letter
+as a brother should do; and every year since, they had written to each
+other, and sent each other presents. But this morning a letter had come
+from Mr. John Low, entreating his brother to come to him, if possible,
+and to bring his family; stating that he had a disease upon him that
+must soon finish his life; and telling him that he had engaged the
+captain of the _Dory_, who brought the letter, to take him and his
+family back with him to America, he having undertaken to pay all the
+costs. The letter finished with the most earnest entreaties that they
+would all come.
+
+"With Mr. John Low's letter came another from Captain Lewis, of the
+_Dory_, saying he should go back in less than a fortnight, and pressing
+Mr. Low to attend to his brother's request; adding that he almost
+feared that his friend, Mr. John Low, would hardly be found alive when
+they reached New York.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Low were talking over this letter, and forming their
+plans about it, when their children saw them walking so gravely in the
+wood. They had come to the resolution to go with Captain Lewis, and
+they had a long discourse about Bernard. They resolved at once to take
+Lucilla with them; they wished her to see her uncle, and to see the New
+World, and her company would be pleasant to them; but they had many
+doubts about Bernard. Mr. Low was quite against taking him, and he took
+this occasion to tell his wife that they had both been to blame in
+spoiling him as they had done, and that he considered his present
+ill-behaviour as a punishment which he himself deserved, for having
+suffered his boy to be so spoiled.
+
+"Mrs. Low had not much to say; she thought her husband was right.
+
+"Now, had Bernard listened to Lucilla, and had he come just at that
+minute before his parents and begged pardon for his ill-behaviour, he
+might have changed his father's determination--for fathers are very
+forgiving--and then his mother, too, would have been on his side; and
+so he might have got the pleasure of going that long journey into the
+New World.
+
+"Everything was settled after Mr. Low had made up his mind, even before
+Bernard returned; for Stephen was going a long walk to see Meekin's
+father, who was a farmer in the next parish, and Bernard went with him.
+Stephen would not take him, however, till he had come back to where
+Lucilla was, to ask her if she thought Mr. Low would be pleased if he
+took him.
+
+"Stephen could speak very properly and well, when it served his turn to
+do so; and Lucilla thought him a very nice person, and to be trusted,
+for he was older than Bernard, by several years, and was often trusted
+to walk with the boys. She could not say that she could give leave, but
+she promised to tell her father where Bernard was gone, and with whom.
+Everything was therefore settled before the spoiled boy came home late
+in the evening. Mr. Low agreed with Mr. Evans that he should take care
+of his church; and as Mr. Evans was going to have his house painted and
+a new schoolroom built, it was also settled that he should come and
+reside at the rectory until Mr. Low returned. Miss Evans was immensely
+pleased at the thought of this. Bernard was to remain under Mr. Evans's
+care; Mr. Low's servants were all to be put on board wages and sent
+home, excepting the gardener. Even nurse was to go to her son, for Mr.
+Low said that nurse was the one who spoiled Bernard most. The boys were
+to have a large laundry, which was in the yard, for their schoolroom,
+and the drying yard for their play-ground; and Mr. Evans and his family
+were to come in the day Mr. Low left.
+
+"Mr. Low had also to ask leave for being absent from his living, and
+Mrs. Low had packing to do; so that there was a vast deal to get
+through, for it was necessary for them to be in London, where Captain
+Lewis was, in a very few days.
+
+"As Lucilla, who had not yet heard of all this great bustle, walked
+quietly home, her heart was very sad on account of her brother. She
+came back by the grotto, and took up her work-basket, putting away the
+hermit and the tools and bits of wood in a corner of the little cave
+out of sight; and taking her basket in her hand, she walked towards
+home, thinking to return to her little hermitage the next day at
+latest.
+
+"Poor Lucilla could not help shedding a few tears as she passed slowly
+along the shrubbery, to think how all her little plans had ended in
+nothing. She did not just then remember that verse, 'Cast thy bread
+upon the waters, and after many days thou shalt find it.'"
+
+[Illustration: "_He took up a slip of wood._"--Page 344.]
+
+
+
+
+Third Part of the History of Little Bernard Low
+
+[Illustration: There was no end of the indulgences given in private to
+the boy]
+
+_THIRD PART OF HENRY'S STORY_
+
+
+"As this history has been very long, and there is more to write about
+it, we will not say much of what happened the next seven days; for both
+houses, that is, Mr. Low's and Mr. Evans's, were all in a bustle, and
+everybody was pleased at the changes which were coming. Even Bernard,
+after he had roared, and cried, and sulked for the first two days, had
+altered his manner, and taken up the behaviour of Harry in the old
+spelling-book--what we may call the don't-care behaviour--for, as he
+told nurse, if his father did not love him enough to take the trouble
+of him in the voyage he was taking, he did not care, not he; he should
+be very happy at home without him. He should cry no more: he wondered
+why he cried at first, for he had not cared all the while; and so he
+went whistling about the house the tune of the 'Jolly Miller' which he
+had heard Ralph sing:
+
+    "'There was a jolly miller once
+        Lived on the River Dee;
+      He work'd and sang from morn till night,
+        No man so blithe as he.
+
+    "'And this the burden of his song
+        For ever used to be--
+      I care for nobody, no, not I,
+        And nobody cares for me.'
+
+"Bernard, however, did not let his father hear him whistling this tune,
+nor did he say, 'I don't care,' before him.
+
+"The Monday following that in which he had walked with Lucilla was the
+day fixed for the many changes. Very early in the morning, nurse's son
+brought a donkey for his mother. The old woman cried, and said she
+should have no peace till she came back again, and told Mrs. Low that
+she was sure she should never live in comfort with her son's wife Joan.
+She kissed Bernard twenty times, and begged him to come and see her;
+and Bernard did his best not to cry. There was an early breakfast, but
+nobody sat at the table two minutes together; something was to be done
+every moment. Mr. Low walked in and out five or six times. The
+housemaid and the cook came in to say good-bye; they were going to walk
+to their homes; and Ralph was to go with his sister, the cook. People,
+too, were coming with packages from Mr. Evans's, and the bustle kept
+Bernard from thinking very deeply on what was going to happen; and yet
+he could not eat his breakfast, nor whistle, for he was not in his
+usual spirits.
+
+"At length the chaise came from the inn, and the trunks were brought
+down to be fastened on.
+
+"Bernard placed himself at the window to look at what was being done
+without; and again he felt the same choking he had had on the hill.
+
+"He heard his mother say, 'When shall we start, my dear?' and his
+father answer, 'In less than half an hour.' He saw his mother look at
+him with tears in her eyes. He could bear it no longer--he rushed out
+into the shrubbery, and having got behind a laurestinus, he gave full
+way to his tears--he could not then say, 'Who cares?'
+
+"Lucilla saw him run out and followed him; she was weeping very
+bitterly; she threw her arms round him, and they both cried together.
+She kissed him many times, and they would not have parted then, had
+they not heard themselves called. Lucilla hastily then put a very
+pretty little Bible in his hand, and gave him another kiss.
+
+"There only remained a tender parting between the boy and his parents;
+and whilst they were still blessing him they were driven away, and the
+poor child was left standing alone on the gravel. His eyes followed the
+carriage as long as it could be seen from that place; and then,
+observing some people coming in at the gate, he ran away. He took the
+path through the shrubbery, and across a field, to a high green bank,
+from which he could trace the road a long way, even as far off as where
+it passed under the round hill with the clump of firs on it, near to
+nurse's son's house.
+
+"He sat down on the bank, waiting until the carriage should come in
+sight again: for when it got down into the bottom of the valley, where
+there were many trees, it was hid from his view.
+
+"This was perhaps the first time in Bernard's life in which he ever had
+any really useful thoughts. He was made then to have some little notion
+that he owed his present trouble to his having been a very rebellious
+naughty boy; but with this good thought came also a bad one: 'But if
+papa loves me as he ought to do, he would not have been so cruel as to
+leave me. He would have forgiven me and overlooked the past, and tried
+me again.'
+
+"Bernard did not consider that it would actually have been very
+dangerous to have taken a disobedient boy to sea, for no one could tell
+what mischief he might have got into on board ship.
+
+"When Bernard saw the carriage again, it looked like a speck on the
+white road. The speck seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and at last
+it disappeared round the foot of the little hill. Then the poor boy
+cried and cried again, until he could cry no longer, and every tear
+seemed to be dried up.
+
+"No one can say how long he sat there, but it was a long time; at last
+he heard a voice, saying, 'Master Low! Master Low! where are you?' and
+the next minute old Jacob, the gardener, appeared.
+
+"Now Jacob was the only servant who had not helped to spoil Bernard,
+and therefore Bernard had never liked him, but always called him cross
+old Jacob. He was glad, however, to see him then; and yet he did not
+speak first to him.
+
+"'I am glad I have found you, Master,' said the old man; 'I have been
+hunting you everywhere; and so has Mr. Evans. They be all come--Miss
+Grizzy herself, and the two maids, and Master Stephen, and a power of
+traps; and the lad that cleans the shoes and knives. But I shan't let
+him meddle with the horses, which he is forward enough to do. But you
+must come along with me. Master; they are all in trouble about you.'
+
+"'Surely,' said Bernard, forgetting that one good thought which he had
+had a little before, 'I may go anywhere I please on my own papa's
+grounds; everything here is papa's, Jacob, and I am at home here.'
+
+"'True,' replied Jacob, 'and so am I too; but neither you nor I is
+master here.'
+
+"'That is just like you, Jacob,' answered Bernard; 'but I am the
+master's son, and you are a servant.'
+
+"'I could answer you from Scripture,' said Jacob, 'if I would.'
+
+"'Do then!' cried Bernard.
+
+"'Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing
+from a servant, though he be lord of all; but is under tutors and
+governors until the time appointed of the father' (Gal. iv. 1, 2).
+
+"Bernard made no answer to this, but, getting up, walked before Jacob
+to the house. At the door he was met by Mr. Evans, who spoke to him
+kindly, said he hoped to make him happy, and to do everything for his
+good in his father's absence. He added also that Griffith and Meekin
+and Price were come, and were in the laundry, which was then to be
+called the schoolroom; but that he should not call any of them that day
+to lessons; only he hoped that he would not go far from the house, as
+he was now accountable for his safety.
+
+"Mr. Evans then walked away, and Bernard went to his own room, where he
+had much difficulty to prevent himself from crying again; but happening
+to light upon some penny pictures and a pair of scissors, he amused
+himself with cutting them all to pieces; first cutting out the figures,
+then the houses, and then the trees, till he had spoiled them all.
+
+"At one o'clock the bell rang for dinner. Bernard did not stir till
+somebody had had the trouble of coming up to call him. The dinner was
+laid in the family dining-room. Miss Grizzy was seated at the head of
+the table when Bernard came in; she was in very good humour, and smart
+as usual. Mr. Evans was in Mr. Low's place at the bottom; the boys on
+each side.
+
+"'Master Low,' said Miss Evans, as he came in, 'I hope you are well;
+here we are, you see, in your papa's handsome room, and here is your
+chair by me. I don't ask you to sit down, for who has such a right to
+sit here as you have? Make room, Meekin. Surely there is room enough at
+this large table? Sit a little lower, Griffith; and now, Master Low,
+what shall we give you?'
+
+"All that was proud and selfish in the heart of poor Bernard was awake
+and busy long before Miss Evans had finished her speech. The boy looked
+round the table for what he liked best; but instead of asking, told the
+servant to take his plate for it, saying:
+
+"'Don't give me fat, I don't like it.'
+
+"'No fat for Master Low,' cried Miss Evans: and then again speaking to
+the boy, 'You have a charming house here, Master Low; I had no notion
+how good it was till I went over it this morning. I tell the young
+gentlemen here that they must be very careful not to do mischief.'
+
+"'They cannot do any, sister,' said Mr. Evans, 'if they keep to their
+places. They must not go into the garden, there is abundant room for
+them to play in elsewhere, and they shall have as much fruit as is good
+for them. Mind, boys, on honour, no going into the garden. You shall
+not need, for as Mr. Low kindly leaves us the use of the fruit, you
+shall have your full share.'
+
+"'You hear, young gentlemen,' said Miss Evans; 'Master Meekin, Master
+Griffith, Master Price----'
+
+"'And Master Low,' added Mr. Evans, 'you are, on honour, not to go into
+the garden.'
+
+"'Master Low!' repeated Miss Grizzy; 'Master Low not to go into his
+papa's garden?'
+
+"Mr. Evans never disputed with his sister before the boys, and not,
+indeed, very often when alone with her, for he loved peace and
+quietness, and she would always have many last words; so he said no
+more; and she, tapping Bernard gently on the back, said, in a low
+voice:
+
+"'That would be hard, would not it, to keep you out of your dear papa's
+own garden?'
+
+"'I should think so,' answered Bernard, in the same low voice.
+
+"This was only the beginning; and as Miss Grizzy went on as she had
+begun, in setting up Bernard, and flattering him to the very utmost in
+her power, there is much reason to fear that he was not likely to be
+the better for being left with her.
+
+"Griffith, with his friends Meekin and Price, would soon have given him
+a lesson or two of another kind, had not Stephen watched them; but
+Stephen had been well tutored by his aunt, and as much was gained them
+from Mr. Low's friendship, besides the honour of having Master Low at
+school, they cared for nothing so much as keeping the naughty boy in
+good humour.
+
+"As to Mr. Evans, he was a simple, earnest man, not suspecting evil of
+others, and anxious to do good. He was kind to all his pupils; he never
+made a difference: and it was for his sake that any boys remained in
+the house; so that he really caused the family to prosper, whilst his
+sister fancied it was all her own doing.
+
+"The next day Mr. Evans began to give his lessons; and kept them on
+most regularly till the Midsummer holidays. He was not aware that
+Bernard had any other indulgence but being helped first at table, which
+he did not quite like; and he kept him as close as the others at his
+lessons.
+
+"But Miss Grizzy, and Stephen, and Bernard were too deep for him; and
+there was no end of the indulgences given in private to the boy. He had
+cakes, and puffs, and strawberries and cream given him, when nobody saw
+it, by Miss Evans.
+
+"Stephen never took notice when he went beyond bounds unless his uncle
+was likely to catch him. He helped him privately at his lessons; and
+when set to hear him, often let him slip them altogether; and always
+took his part when there was a quarrel between him and the other boys.
+The holidays made but little difference with Bernard. Mr. Evans gave
+him a daily lesson, because he wanted to get him on. And as to other
+things, he could not be more spoiled and stuffed by Miss Grizzy at one
+time than at another.
+
+"Miss Grizzy all this while disliked him as much as Stephen did, and
+that was with their whole hearts.
+
+"Stephen called him a little proud, insolent puppy. And Miss Evans said
+he was the most greedy child she ever saw, and so wasteful and
+thankless, and one of the worst-mannered boys she ever had to deal
+with.
+
+"Stephen said the same to Meekin and Griffith and Price; he laid all
+the partiality with which they charged him on his aunt, and said he
+only wished he could have his way with him, and he would soon bring
+down his airs, and teach him what he was made of.
+
+"The same boys met again after the holidays, and things went on much in
+the same way.
+
+"Several letters were received from Mr. Low from different places; at
+length one came, stating their arrival in New York, and their being
+about to go up the Hudson to Mr. John Low's house.
+
+"The great indulgence with which Bernard was treated, and the bustle
+that was made about him, together with the real kindness of Mr. Evans,
+made him very hard and careless about his parents.
+
+"He used often to say, 'I do very well here; if papa stays longer than
+he at first intended I shall not fret after him, and I dare say he will
+not fret after me, for if he had loved me so very much he would not
+have left me behind.'
+
+"Bernard could not forgive his father for leaving him; but whenever he
+talked in this way not even Stephen could keep Griffith from speaking
+his mind to him.
+
+"'There you go again,' Griffith would say; 'always blaming your father,
+when the fault is all your own. Don't you know, Bernard, that there is
+nobody that can bear with you who thinks they have not something to get
+by you?'
+
+"The name Noddy, which Stephen had forbidden, was got up again after
+the Midsummer holidays; and everything that Bernard did to make himself
+disagreeable was set down to this Noddy.
+
+"At last Bernard got to the truth of this matter by being told by
+Meekin that if he wished to see Noddy, he must take a peep in the
+looking-glass. On hearing this, Bernard struck Meekin, and if Stephen
+had not come in, the spoiled boy for once would have got his deserts.
+
+"Letters were again received from Mr. Low about December; he said in
+them that his poor brother was very ill, not likely to live through the
+winter; that it was impossible for him to leave him, and that at all
+events he meant to stay till the season for crossing the sea should be
+better. Lucilla at the same time wrote a long letter to her brother.
+
+"The Christmas holidays passed, and nothing particular happened; the
+same boys met again after Christmas, and another boy came also; but
+Bernard despised him as much as he did Meekin and Griffith and Price,
+because he had heard it said that his father kept a shop.
+
+"January passed, and February, and March; another letter had come from
+Mr. Low; poor Mr. John Low was dead, and Mr. Low was busy settling his
+affairs. Mr. John Low had left his brother a good deal of money, but
+Mr. Low did not say anything about that; Miss Grizzy therefore made it
+out that there was none.
+
+"Another letter arrived at the end of March to say that Captain Lewis
+was to sail for England in the _Dory_ in a few days, and that Mr. Low
+hoped to come with him. There was another sweet letter from Lucilla,
+telling how many pretty things she had collected for her dear brother.
+
+"It was about four weeks after these two last letters had been
+received, when one morning Mr. Evans came in a great hurry, and with a
+face of much trouble, into the school-room, and called out Stephen.
+Stephen came back five minutes afterwards, and told the boys that his
+uncle had been called suddenly away, and they had leave to play.
+
+"'Good news--good news!' cried Griffith, and away ran the four pupils,
+with Stephen after them; whilst Bernard went into the house to see what
+he could get.
+
+"As he came into the hall he saw that the parlour door was open, and he
+heard people talking within. Miss Grizzy was in the parlour, and she
+was talking to a neighbour who had dropped in. The coming of that
+neighbour, Bernard thought, had something to do with the holiday so
+suddenly given, and by listening he thought he might find something out
+about this holiday.
+
+"The words Bernard heard were these:
+
+"'I know, Mrs. Smith, better than most, that the family had nothing to
+depend upon but the living. To be sure, the living is very good, and
+much might be saved out of it for the children, but if what we hear is
+true they will come but poorly off, I fear.'
+
+"'You forget, Miss Evans,' answered Mrs. Smith, 'that if what we hear
+be true--and I fear it is--there is only one left to provide for.'
+
+"As Bernard drew closer to the door to hear more, he knocked his foot
+against it, and Miss Grizzy called out:
+
+"'Who is there?'
+
+"Bernard walked into the parlour at the call, in his usual manner, and
+without taking any notice of Mrs. Smith, he said:
+
+"'I want some bread and butter.'
+
+"'What, already?' cried Miss Grizzy tartly; 'don't you see that I am
+talking business with my neighbour, Master Low? Come, you had best go
+to play, and mind to shut the door after you.'
+
+"Bernard looked at her with a look which seemed to say, 'What's the
+matter now?' and walked away, leaving the door as wide open as he could
+push it.
+
+"He walked into the garden, but old Jacob was not there, and then he
+went to the back of the house to look for the other boys. He had heard
+their voices at a distance, when he got there, and saw them in the very
+field where he had sat with Lucilla. Their voices came straight over
+the valley; but it was a long way to go, down first and up again, to
+them. However, he set out to go, and in his way had to pass by the door
+of a cottage near the brook. In this cottage lived an old woman, who
+had been supported for some years by his father's family, though she
+could do little in return. She was sitting on the step, with her face
+on her knees, crying bitterly.
+
+"'What now, Betty?' said Bernard.
+
+"'Ah, Master Low!' she said, looking up, 'is it you, my precious
+master, and do you say, what's the matter now? Have not they told you?
+The hardened creatures to keep such news from you!'
+
+"And she then told him the real cause of the breaking up of the school,
+the absence of Mr. Evans and Jacob, and the visit of Mrs. Smith. News
+had come that day to Rookdale, that the _Dory_ had been lost at sea,
+and gone down with every creature on board: having been seen to
+founder by some other vessel, in a dreadful squall off some island.
+
+"Mr. Evans had gone immediately to discover the truth of this account,
+which was in a newspaper. It is not known where he went, or to whom he
+wrote letters; but this is certain, that he only obtained confirmation
+of the dreadful news, and as weeks passed, and nothing was heard from
+Mr. Low or of the _Dory_, every one, of course, believed that poor
+Bernard was an orphan.
+
+"Miss Grizzy began to think where the money was to come from to pay for
+Bernard's keep; for what had been said was very true, Mr. Low had had
+little to depend upon but his living; or if he had saved anything, it
+could not be known where his savings were, till his papers could be
+looked up, and that could not be done until it was as certain as might
+be that he was really dead.
+
+"Poor Bernard!--now his time of trial had come: he was quite unprepared
+for the story old Betty told him. Mr. Evans had wished it might for the
+present be kept from him. He fell down like one struck with death when
+he heard the story.
+
+"The old woman screamed; at her cry, Stephen and the boys, who were not
+far off, came running to her; more help was called, Bernard was lifted
+up, and carried to the house and put to bed.
+
+"When laid on his bed, it was found that the sudden shock had made him
+very ill, and there was fear of inflammation of the brain. The doctor
+was sent for, he was bled more than once, his head was shaved, and a
+large blister put upon it. He was reduced to be as weak as a baby: he
+called often, when he knew not what he said, for his father and his
+mother, and his own sweet Lucilla; and when he recollected that he had
+heard they were dead, he called for his nurse.
+
+"Nurse came the moment she heard of his illness; but Mr. Evans was not
+come home, he was absent more than ten days, and Miss Grizzy would not
+let nurse see him. In grief and anger the old woman went home, and took
+to her bed almost as ill as poor Bernard.
+
+"Miss Grizzy was the person who watched by Bernard's bed, and saw that
+everything the doctor ordered was done; but Bernard fancied she was not
+the same Miss Grizzy that used to smile upon him and flatter him in
+past times, she looked so grave, and said so often, 'That _must_ be
+done, Master Low.'
+
+"Bernard, however, did not think much about her; his whole mind was
+filled, till his head got well, with thoughts of his parents and
+sister, and even of his little brothers, whom he had never seen. And in
+this time of suffering and weakness he began to be sincerely sorry for
+his past naughtiness.
+
+"Mr. Evans came back without any hope respecting Mr. Low. He was very
+much grieved, especially for Bernard, and showed his kindness by
+visiting him often in his room; and when the boy was better, another
+friend showed himself; this was Griffith, who had made up his mind
+never again to quiz Bernard so long as he lived. He came often to him,
+and even read to him in the Bible Lucilla had given. Jacob too showed
+his deep affection for his little master. But Jacob himself was soon
+afterwards taken ill, and Miss Grizzy contrived that he should be sent
+away till he got better. So Bernard was made to feel that those were
+not his real friends who flattered him when all seemed to be well with
+him.
+
+"Time passed on, Bernard's health was restored, and he was able to come
+down as usual. He went down to dinner the first day on a Sunday. He had
+been well enough to go down the Monday before, but Miss Grizzy had
+fixed on Sunday for the day; perhaps because her brother, who had two
+churches to serve, would not be at dinner. When Bernard came into the
+room, he looked at the place where he used to sit, but Master Larkin,
+the new pupil, was in it. There was a place kept for him by Stephen at
+the bottom of the table.
+
+"'You are older than Larkin, Low,' said Stephen, 'and must give up the
+place of pet to him.' Bernard sat down. He did not just then understand
+the reason of being put out of his place--he had this to learn amongst
+other things. He was not asked what he would like, but helped in his
+turn; and when dinner was over, he was not asked if he would like to
+stay in the parlour, but told, if he felt tired, to go and lie on his
+own bed. At tea he was treated like the other boys, and at supper also,
+and from that time this went on. If Mr. Evans saw it, he did not
+interfere; but this good man was very absent, and many things passed
+before him which he did not notice.
+
+"After a few days, one would have thought that Miss Evans and her
+nephew had ceased to care altogether about Bernard's feelings; they
+began to talk before him of who was to have the house and living, and
+that it was necessary to take great care of the house and furniture;
+and Bernard was told that he must not run rampaging about as he had
+done formerly; for, as Miss Grizzy said, there was little enough left,
+she feared, for his maintenance, and there was no need to make things
+worse.
+
+"It was a hard lesson for the spoiled boy to be taught to be patient
+under these mortifications, and never to fire up and answer these cruel
+hints; but he was patient, he bore much and said little. He felt that
+he deserved to be humbled in this way, and he tried to be submissive.
+
+"Another month or six weeks went, and Bernard had only two earthly
+comforts: one was from the gentleness of Mr. Evans, and the other from
+the rough kindness of Griffith, who gave Meekin a sound drubbing one
+day for calling Bernard Noddy.
+
+"'Why,' said Meekin, 'did not _you_ give him the name?'
+
+"'I did,' answered Griffith; 'but he shan't hear it now, never again.'
+
+"The season of Whitsuntide had come round, and the boys were to go home
+for a week, and only Meekin, Low, and Stephen were left. The bells were
+not set to ring as usual on Sunday morning; the ringers were thoughtful
+enough to refuse to ring; but Stephen was resolved to have a peal, and
+he and Meekin and the big boy who worked about the place, and one other
+whom they contrived to muster, had one peal on the Sunday, and several
+others on the Monday.
+
+"The return of Whitsuntide made Bernard more unhappy than he had been
+for many days. He remembered that time a year ago so very exactly, and
+what everybody had then said and done--his own bad behaviour
+especially. He had a very sad Sunday, and got up even more sad on the
+Monday morning.
+
+"Miss Grizzy had put him out of his old sleeping-room after his
+recovery, into a little room which looked over the stable yard. Before
+he was dressed he heard talking in the yard. He dressed in haste, and
+ran to the window, and there he saw just below him a young man called
+Benjamin, the same who had helped to ring the bells with Stephen and
+Meekin and the servant boy--all gathered together examining Lucilla's
+pony. Bernard could not hear what they said, and the bell rang for
+breakfast before he had time to ask.
+
+"When he came down, he was sorry to find that Mr. Evans was gone out.
+He asked Meekin how long he was to stay from home; and Stephen
+answered:
+
+"'Maybe all the week; maybe a month; maybe he wishes to try what sort
+of a schoolmaster I should make in his absence.'
+
+"'Oh! I hope not,' said Bernard, speaking hastily and without thinking.
+
+"'You do, do you?' answered Stephen spitefully; 'well, we shall see.'
+
+"'It don't become you, Low, to speak in such a way now,' said Miss
+Grizzy, 'you are not master here, now. You can't count upon this place
+being yours more than my brother's any longer; it is just as well that
+you know the truth, and know at once what to expect. The living went
+from the family when your father died, and it is feared that there will
+not be much left for your keep when the things are sold, and everything
+paid.'
+
+"The tears stood in Bernard's eyes--not that he attended to all the
+words Miss Grizzy said; he was thinking of that day a year ago, of his
+own ill behaviour, and of the kindness of his sweet Lucilla.
+
+"'Oh!' he thought, 'how could I have run away from my gentle sister to
+go to that cruel Stephen?'
+
+"Stephen and Meekin walked off in a hurry, after they had breakfasted,
+and Miss Grizzy sent Bernard after them. He followed them slowly, and
+yet did not like to stay long behind them.
+
+"They were gone again into the yard, and there was Benjamin, and the
+servant boy, and the pony. Stephen was talking of the pony, and giving
+his orders: the pony had a long tail, and his mane wanted putting in
+order.
+
+"'You must dock the tail close, Ben,' were the words that Bernard
+heard; 'she will sell for nothing in that fashion.'
+
+"'Oh, no, no!' cried Bernard, running forward, 'Lucilla would not like
+it; she said she would always have it long to flitch away the flies.'
+
+"'Who bid you speak?' said Stephen.
+
+"'Is she not my horse now?' cried Bernard.
+
+"'No more yours than mine,' replied Stephen.
+
+"'Don't cut her tail, Benjamin,' returned Bernard.
+
+"'Hold your peace,' said Stephen.
+
+"'Only stay till Mr. Evans comes home,' said Bernard.
+
+"'Do it now,' said Stephen.
+
+"Bernard was beside himself; he called Stephen cruel, deceitful, and
+anything else he could think of, and he tried to seize the halter of
+the pony.
+
+"Stephen dragged him away, and in the scuffle thought Bernard had
+struck him; Meekin swore that he did.
+
+"Stephen, when set up, was furiously passionate, and without taking
+time for thought, he snatched a switch from the hand of Ben, and laid
+it on Bernard till his back and even the sides of his face were covered
+with wheals. The poor boy ran, and Stephen after him. Stephen was even
+the more provoked because Benjamin cried to him to desist.
+
+"Bernard at last got away from him by a little gate which led into the
+garden, and he continued to run until he had come to the arbour and the
+grotto. He had never gone to that corner of the shrubbery since the
+news had come of the loss of the _Dory_; and at first, when he almost
+dropped down on one of the benches, he scarcely recollected where he
+was. He was seated exactly where he had sat with Lucilla on the last
+Whitsun-Monday. The mouth of the grotto was exactly before him; the
+winter's wind had driven the dead damp leaves into it, and there had
+been no one to clear them away. The highest point of the little window
+in the back, which Lucilla herself had painted on a piece of board,
+just peeped above the heap of leaves. Bernard thought of the tools
+Lucilla had bought; they were lying, no doubt, rusting in a corner.
+
+"'Oh, Lucilla!' he cried; and bursting into tears, he laid his hands on
+the table, and stooped his face upon them: the board was quite wet with
+his tears when he looked up again.
+
+"He was startled by the sudden ringing out of the bells. Stephen and
+the boys had gone to cool themselves in the belfry, after leaving the
+pony undocked in the field.
+
+"How did those bells remind the unhappy boy of the year before, for he
+had heard them when sitting in that very place with Lucilla! He
+remembered his hardness and pride at that time, and like the Prodigal
+Son to his father, he cried to his God, 'I have sinned against heaven
+and before Thee, and am not worthy to be called Thy son.'
+
+"Could Lucilla have foreknown in what spirit her dear brother would
+have spoken those words in that place, at the end of twelve months
+after she had brought him there, she would have been filled with joy,
+and would have said, 'My God, I thank Thee, for Thou hast heard my
+prayers.'
+
+"When Bernard was getting more calm, his tears were made to flow again
+by the sight of the broken splinters and one of Lucilla's beads on the
+gravel at his feet. He took up the bead, wrapped it in a bit of paper,
+put it into his waistcoat pocket, and went out of the shrubbery by the
+wicket close by into the wood.
+
+"As he walked along his wandering eye at last settled upon that spot of
+ground, at the foot of the round hill with the crown of fir-trees,
+where the carriage which had taken away his parents had disappeared. He
+thought then of his nurse, and that she had been one of those to whom
+he had behaved ill.
+
+"'Poor nurse!' he said to himself, 'I will go to beg her pardon, and I
+will get her to let me live with her, and never let me come back to
+this place again. Nurse will give me bread, and I shall want nothing
+else. I will go;' and he got up and looked to see which was the
+shortest way to get to the round hill. When he fancied he had made this
+out, he got up and set off slowly, for by this time the stripes given
+him by the switch had got stiff; but he had set his mind on going to
+nurse's, and, indeed, he did not dare to go home.
+
+"Oh, what a long and dreary way did he find it! The first half-mile was
+tolerably level, but the next two miles and a half were all uphill,
+only with a very little going down sometimes. The sun was shining
+without clouds, and his bones were sore, and he was getting hungry; and
+what was worse than all, his heart was very sad, and the road was
+solitary. He scarcely met anyone, excepting a party of people with
+asses; still he often caught sight of the round hill, and found himself
+getting nearer to it: he thought it looked higher, and higher, and
+higher as he went on, and he had to go beyond it. It was quite noonday
+before he reached the foot of it; and there he had to ask a man, who
+was breaking stones on the road, the nearest way to the common. The man
+showed him a deep lane a little further, up which he was to go, and
+when he had got to the end of it, he saw the common and the
+rabbit-burrows, and sheep, and geese, and many cottages. He asked at
+many doors before he could learn where nurse lived; but when he saw her
+house he was pleased, because it looked larger and neater than the
+others, and he thought there would be room for him. It stood in a
+pretty garden, surrounded with a neat quickset hedge, nicely shorn.
+
+"He opened the wicket-gate without fear, and walked up to the door. He
+saw a neat kitchen within, for the door was half open; he knocked, and
+called, 'Is nurse at home?' No one answered at first, but soon he heard
+a step, and nurse's daughter-in-law appeared.
+
+"She was a tall, hard-looking woman, and the first words she said,
+were:
+
+"'Surely it is not you, Master Low, and in such a plight? Why, you have
+been a-fighting.'
+
+"'I want nurse,' said Bernard.
+
+"'What, mother-in-law?' answered the woman; 'you can't see her.'
+
+"'Why?' answered Bernard.
+
+"'She is sick in bed,' said the woman.
+
+"'Let me go up and see her, if you please,' said Bernard.
+
+"'You can't do no such thing,' said the woman; 'she is not in the
+house, and if she was she could not have much to say to you. Has not
+Miss Grizzy forbid her to come about you? and times are hard, Master
+Low. You has run away from school, I doubt not, by the look of you. You
+has been a-fighting. Don't think that we shall go to harbour you here,
+and get nothing but cross words for our pains. Miss Grizzy told mother
+that there would be nothing a-coming to you when all was paid. So go
+back as fast as you can; you can't come in. Go back, there's a good
+lad.'
+
+"She then, in her great goodness, handed him a crust and a bit of dry
+cheese, and pushed him from the door; for she was afraid that her
+husband and his mother, who were both out, might come in before the
+child was gone.
+
+"Bernard hardly knew what he did when he took the bread and cheese, and
+felt the hand of the woman pushing him out. He could not eat what was
+given him, for he was parched with thirst, and his young heart was
+almost broken by his disappointment. Even to nurse he had behaved ill,
+and now he thought that even she had forsaken him. He dragged himself
+back through the deep lane, and being again in the highroad at the foot
+of the hill, he sat, or rather stretched, himself on a green bank
+under a hedge; and having cried again till he could cry no longer, he
+fell into a sort of stupor, neither asleep nor otherwise, quite worn
+with tiredness, and thirst, and sorrow.
+
+"About the time when Bernard was turned from nurse's door, the
+dinner-bell at his papa's house was ringing, and Miss Evans waiting at
+the head of the table ready to carve.
+
+"Before the bell had done tinkling, Stephen and Meekin came in, and
+Miss Grizzy said:
+
+"'Where is Low? I suppose he does not expect us to wait for him.'
+
+"Stephen looked at Meekin, and Meekin looked at Stephen. Stephen was
+not quite easy in the thought of the severe beating which he had given
+Bernard; but as it was expected that Mr. Evans would not return till
+the evening of the next day, he trusted that there would be nothing
+about Bernard to lead his uncle to inquire about what had happened in
+his absence.
+
+"'The boy is sulking somewhere,' he thought, 'and when he is hungry he
+will show himself;' and with this thought he went to the bottom of the
+table; and they had all just seated themselves, when in walked Mr.
+Evans.
+
+"Miss Grizzy set up a shriek of wonder, and Stephen turned scarlet.
+
+"Mr. Evans had set out with the intention of going to the Bishop, under
+whom he and Mr. Low lived, to ask him about some little difficulty
+which had arisen in the management of the parish, and to beg that
+things might remain as they were, until more decided news could be got
+of the loss of the ship.
+
+"The worthy man was not thinking of himself, but of poor Bernard. He
+had hardly gone ten miles of the thirty he had to go, when he met the
+Bishop's coach, and had the opportunity of settling his business in a
+few minutes. And what had he then to do but to stop at a little inn by
+the wayside to refresh his horse, and go quietly home, much pleased by
+the kindness of the Bishop?
+
+"When he had, in a few words, explained how it happened that he was at
+home so soon, he was preparing to sit down to dinner, when he missed
+Bernard.
+
+"'Where is Master Low?' he said, looking round. 'Where is Bernard,
+sister? Stephen, where is the child?'
+
+"There was a certain something in the flushed features and stammering
+answers of Stephen which struck even the unsuspicious Mr. Evans, and
+when he was once roused he could show great firmness. He insisted that
+the little boy should appear; and when he did not answer to any call,
+or to the repeated ringing of the bell, he ordered the dinner away.
+
+"'No one in the house shall dine, sister Grizzy,' he said, 'till the
+orphan is found. Mind what I say. Do you, boys, run in all directions;
+let the women go also, and bring the poor child to me. You, Stephen,
+have been quarrelling with him.'
+
+"'Sir,' said Meekin, 'he struck Mr. Stephen.'
+
+"'No, Master Meekin,' said the boy who was waiting at table, 'I did not
+see as he did; nor Ben neither, and he was by.'
+
+"'No matter now,' said Mr. Evans; 'be off, all of you, and bring the
+child to me.'
+
+"And Mr. Evans sat down, having no expectation but that Bernard would
+be brought in, with the tear in his eye, but safe and sound, in a few
+minutes. He waited alone, maybe a quarter of an hour, and then went
+out, becoming more frightened every moment.
+
+"There was a set of people, such as sell pottery, happening to pass up
+the road at the minute Mr. Evans went out of the gate; and he bethought
+himself of asking them if they had met a little boy in their way,
+describing Bernard.
+
+"The old woman of the party told him that they had met such a boy, and
+told him also exactly where. It struck Mr. Evans at once that the child
+had set out to go to nurse's; and without losing another minute he
+called Tom, ordered him to saddle the pony, and was on his way towards
+nurse's not ten minutes after he had spoken to the old woman. He made
+the pony go at a very brisk trot, wherever the steepness of the road
+would allow.
+
+"Bernard had really fallen asleep under the hedge after some time, and
+had only just awakened when Mr. Evans came trotting round the foot of
+the hill.
+
+"The worthy man no sooner saw him than he came almost cantering up,
+sprang from the quiet pony, and caught him in his arms.
+
+"'My son! my child!' he said, whilst his eyes filled with tears; 'my
+poor boy, why are you here? What has happened? Do you not know that
+when you lost a better father, you became to me like a son, and that I
+then resolved to be a father to you so long as you needed one? If
+anything goes wrong with you, my boy, under my roof, come to me and
+tell me, as you would have done to your own father, and be sure that so
+long as I have a loaf you shall have a son's portion of it.'
+
+"No one can describe the effect of Mr. Evans's kindness on the heart of
+poor Bernard; again and again he fell on his neck and kissed him; and
+so full of love and gentleness was the child that he whispered:
+
+"'Don't ask me why I ran away; I promise you that when I run again from
+the same people, I will run to you; and if you are out, I will only
+hide myself till you come back.'
+
+"'It shall not happen again,' said Mr. Evans, who had observed the
+marks of the strokes on the child's face; 'it shall not happen again; I
+will prevent it; but I will ask no questions.'
+
+"So saying, he lifted Bernard on the pony with the long tail, and
+taking the bridle in his hand, they set off together down the hill.
+
+"Mr. Evans had gone off in such a hurry that he had not told anyone
+that he had heard of Bernard; and therefore, without planning any such
+thing, he had left the people at home in the greatest trouble, their
+alarm becoming more and more every minute in which the child could not
+be found.
+
+"Mr. Evans and Bernard had first, in their way from the round hill, to
+go down a very steep bit of road, into a kind of hollow where were a
+brook and many trees, and then beyond which was a rise, and then
+another deep descent. When Bernard came to the brook, he begged that he
+might get off and drink a little water in the hollow of his hand; and
+when he had done so, he tried to make Mr. Evans mount the pony whilst
+he walked. But the kind man would not hear of any such thing; he lifted
+Bernard on the horse again, and they were just going to ascend the
+bank, when they heard a voice behind them, crying: 'Stop, stop, Master
+Bernard.'
+
+"They looked back, and there was nurse; she had come home about an hour
+before, and having heard by some chance who had been at the cottage and
+been sent away, she had had a violent quarrel with her daughter-in-law,
+and had come posting after her boy.
+
+"But before Mr. Evans and Bernard knew the voice, there was a sound of
+carriage-wheels coming from behind nurse; and so quick upon her was
+the carriage, that the horses' heads were in a line with her, when
+Bernard and Mr. Evans turned to see who called them. The road just
+there was not only steep but narrow.
+
+"'That is nurse,' said Mr. Evans; 'but we must not stop just here, or
+the carriage will be upon us; a little above there is room for the pony
+to stand aside, and the ground is there more level for the feet.'
+
+"So for the next minute or more the three parties all went on, Mr.
+Evans and Bernard going up slowly towards the level place; the carriage
+coming rapidly down the road, being drawn by horses used to steeper
+hills than that; and nurse behind at the top of her speed after the
+carriage.
+
+"Those in the carriage had known nurse as they passed, though she never
+once looked up to them; and they knew also Bernard, and good Mr. Evans,
+and the long-tailed pony.
+
+"When Mr. Evans had reached the bit of level ground, which might have
+been fifty feet, or more, from the bottom of the valley, he stopped,
+and lifted Bernard off the pony to wait for nurse.
+
+"The carriage, too, stopped at the brook, and there was a cry from it.
+'Bernard, Bernard! It is our dear, dear Bernard; open the door, open
+the door.' The door was burst open from within, and out sprang Lucilla,
+flying forward to her brother. She was followed by Mr. and Mrs. Low, as
+soon as the postboy could let down the steps.
+
+"Bernard made one effort to rush to meet Lucilla, and then fell
+unconscious upon the ground.
+
+"It is impossible to give an account of such a scene; the people who
+were present could tell nothing about it themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Low
+and Lucilla could not understand why everyone should be so surprised
+to see them; why Bernard should faint, why nurse should scream, and why
+Mr. Evans should look so white.
+
+"They had suffered much in a terrible storm, and been driven far out of
+their course, and been obliged to lie for months in some far-off
+harbour for repairs, and had had a long and weary voyage. But they had
+written letters, and supposed all this was known at home. The letters,
+however, having been sent from a very out-of-the-way place, had never
+arrived, but this they could not know.
+
+"They were not surprised at anything, when they found that all their
+friends and neighbours had thought them dead; and when Bernard, having
+had his temples bathed with water, opened his eyes and recovered his
+colour, and began to shed tears, they were no longer frightened about
+him. He was then lifted into the carriage, and held in the arms of his
+own father; nurse got upon a trunk behind, Mr. Evans mounted the pony,
+and on they went, having now only down hill to go to the village.
+
+"'Let us pass quietly, if possible, through the village,' said Mr. Low,
+'that we may get our dear boy home as soon as possible;' but Mr. Low
+could not have everything as he wished. The news was told at the very
+first house, which was the turn-pike, by Mr. Evans before the carriage,
+and by nurse behind it; and the whole street was up in a moment. There
+was such joy, that men, women, and children set up shouts; and four
+young men, who were enjoying the Whitsun holidays, flew to the church
+and set the bells a-ringing before the carriage came in sight of the
+rectory.
+
+"'Surely,' said Miss Grizzy to the dairy-maid, 'those lads are not gone
+off to the belfry, and that plague of a boy, young Low, not found yet!
+I always said he was the most ill-conditioned child that ever lived;
+and I know now he is only hiding out of malice to my poor Stephen.'
+
+"Before she could finish her speech there was a sound of wheels and of
+horses, and the barking of all the dogs about, and of doors opening;
+and the very next minute in came nurse with the news into the dairy.
+
+"Miss Grizzy was almost as ready to faint as Bernard had been--but not
+from pleasure; all her unkindnesses to the child rose before her mind,
+and it was with the greatest difficulty that she could put on even the
+appearance of being glad, whilst her worthy brother's heart was lifted
+up with joy.
+
+"When Stephen heard the news, as he came skulking in to tell his aunt
+he could find Bernard nowhere, he walked himself off with Meekin, and
+did not return till night; but he need not have done so, for Bernard
+never uttered a complaint against him or anybody else, though he spoke
+continually of the very great kindness of Mr. Evans.
+
+"The happiness of Lucilla that evening was complete. Bernard had hardly
+spoken to her before she found how changed he was.
+
+"Mr. Low was equally thankful; and Mrs. Low and nurse, though they did
+not understand the cause of the change so clearly, yet felt that their
+darling was a new and improved creature. Mr. Low, having it now in his
+power, did much to assist Mr. Evans in many ways; he felt all his
+kindnesses; he helped to furnish his new rooms, and raised his salary
+as a curate.
+
+"Miss Grizzy and Stephen left him almost immediately. Miss Grizzy went
+to keep the house of a cross old uncle, and Stephen went to his
+parents. Mr. Evans took nurse for a housekeeper, and whether she
+managed well or ill for him people do not agree; but this is certain,
+that all the boys, especially the little ones, liked her so much that
+Mr. Evans soon found even his larger house too small for his pupils.
+
+"The last we heard of Mr. Low's family was that Bernard and Lucilla had
+furnished the grotto so beautifully that every person in the
+neighbourhood came to see it; and that this brother and sister were the
+delight of their parents, and the comforters of every poor old person
+or orphan child in the parish."
+
+[Illustration: Bernard rushed to meet Lucilla]
+
+
+
+
+The Birthday Feast
+
+[Illustration: She only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+well]
+
+
+"Well," said Henry Fairchild, "it is just as I knew it would be; mine
+is the prettiest story, and it is the longest, and that is something."
+
+"No, no!" replied Emily; "if a story is stupid, its being long only
+makes it worse."
+
+"But it is not stupid," says Henry, "as it comes in at the end so
+nicely, and in so much bustle. I do love a story that ends in a great
+bustle."
+
+"Well," said Emily, "my story finishes with as great a bustle as yours;
+and we _must_ say that Lucy has chosen two very nice books; so, Lucy,
+we thank you with all our hearts."
+
+We have been so busy over the stories which Lucy brought, that we have
+taken no notice of the note and parcel which came from Miss Darwell.
+
+The note was to invite the Misses Fairchild and Master Fairchild to
+spend her birthday with her. She asked them to come very early, and
+they were to come in their playing dresses, and then they could bring
+others with them, because in the evening there would be company. She
+offered to send a carriage for them; and she said that a note would
+come to invite their parents to dinner. The little lady seemed to have
+thought of everything to make the day pleasant to them.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild's children were not so rich as Miss Darwell, but they
+were as well brought up; and Mrs. Colvin had heard this, and was glad
+to have the opportunity of seeing these children.
+
+The parcel contained a few small presents, which Emily and Lucy thought
+a great deal of, and put by amongst their treasures.
+
+The day of Miss Darwell's birthday came, after what Henry called a very
+long time. Time seems very long to children; they think a month as long
+as old people think a year. Henry talked of a year or two past as of a
+time a long while ago.
+
+Lucy and Emily looked out the very first thing that morning to see what
+weather it was; but Henry did more, he got up and went out as soon as
+he heard anyone stir, and saw John cleaning the horse, that he might be
+ready for Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild in the afternoon.
+
+Soon after breakfast Mrs. Fairchild got the children ready, in their
+neatest morning dresses, according to Miss Darwell's desire; meaning to
+bring their evening things when she came. But they were hardly ready
+when a little pony-carriage, driven by a careful old man, came for them
+from Miss Darwell; for this young lady never forgot the chance of doing
+a kindness.
+
+They got into the little carriage, and were driven away. Henry sat by
+the servant in front, and his sisters in the seat behind.
+
+"My little lady," said the servant, "bade us be sure to bring you all
+safely, and very soon, Master Fairchild." And then he went on to say
+what a dear, good young lady she was. "But she bade me not tell what is
+to be done this evening; and you are not to ask anybody about it."
+
+"Then I will not," said Henry; "though I want to know very much."
+
+"To be sure you do, master,'" said the man; "but you will know
+by-and-by."
+
+As they came near the park, they saw several fine carriages drawing
+towards the house.
+
+"We are going to have a world of company," said the man; "but Miss
+Darwell has no visitors in her own rooms but you and your sisters,
+Master Fairchild. My lady would have had more invited, but Mrs. Colvin
+begged off; and so you and the young ladies are much favoured."
+
+And then, giving his horse a fillip, away they went, bowling along over
+the park amid high fern brakes, lofty trees, and many deer.
+
+"I see something white through the trees," said Henry; "look, look, all
+along under the branches--see, Lucy--see, Emily!"
+
+"Do you, master?" answered the servant; "well, that is unaccountable;
+but look before you--what do you see there?"
+
+"Only trees," replied Henry, "and fern."
+
+"Look again, master," said the man.
+
+And Henry looked again till he had quite passed the place where the
+white things might be seen, and indeed had forgotten them.
+
+When they came to the house and drove to the door, a footman appeared,
+and was directed to lead the little ladies and gentleman to Miss
+Darwell's rooms. The man went before them upstairs and along the
+galleries to the door of that very room where they had been received by
+poor Miss Augusta Noble.
+
+As the footman, having opened the door, mentioned their names, they saw
+that everything within the room was just the same as it had been. But
+there was a nice elderly lady, dressed in black silk, who sat near the
+open window. She seemed, by the book in her hand, to have been reading
+to a pretty fair girl, nearly of the age of Lucy, who sat on a stool at
+her feet.
+
+These were Mrs. Colvin and Miss Darwell; and when they heard the names
+announced, they both rose and came to meet their visitors. They both
+smiled so sweetly, and spoke so pleasantly, that they took all fear at
+once from the children.
+
+Mrs. Colvin herself took off the bonnets and tippets, and laid them
+aside; and Miss Darwell said, "I am glad you came so soon; I told
+Everard to make haste."
+
+As soon as they were ready, Miss Darwell began to talk of what they
+were to play at. Mrs. Colvin gave them leave to go out for a time to
+play in the shade of what they called the cedar-grove, a place near the
+house, but they all begged her to go with them.
+
+"Not to play, my dears," she said; "I can't run."
+
+"No, ma'am," said Lucy; "but you can have a book and sit down and read,
+as then you can see us at play."
+
+"Well, then," said Mrs. Colvin, smiling, "I will come." And away they
+all went to the cedar-grove.
+
+As they were going Henry said:
+
+"I am not to ask what is to be done this evening."
+
+"No," replied Miss Darwell; "you ought not even to say, 'I am not to
+ask.'"
+
+When they had got into the grove, and Mrs. Colvin was seated, they
+began to consult about what they should play at. As Miss Darwell had
+not often any children to play with, she did not know of half the games
+that others did.
+
+"Let us play at Little Edwy and the Echo," said Lucy.
+
+"But we have no echo here," said Miss Darwell.
+
+"Then Henry shall be Edwy, and I will be the echo: and it is me you
+shall try to catch," replied Lucy; "and you shall have to run for it.
+Henry, you must call, and I will answer, but they shall not find me."
+
+Lucy could run almost as quick as a greyhound, and she managed the game
+so well, that it took up the whole time Mrs. Colvin allowed them to
+stay out of doors. It was getting hot, and they went back into the
+house, and to their room.
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Colvin, "you shall take your visitors into your
+play-room, Miss Darwell, and leave the door open, my dear, that I may
+hear you and see you; I know you like to have me near you."
+
+"Yes, I do, dear Mrs. Colvin," said Miss Darwell; and she put her arms
+round the excellent governess's neck and kissed her; and then, running
+and opening a door, led her visitors into a large room which they had
+not seen before. It was furnished with shelves, on which many books and
+toys were ranged in order--for it was one of Mrs. Colvin's wishes to
+make her pupil neat.
+
+Mr. Fairchild's children quite cried out at the sight of these things;
+there were enough to furnish a toy-shop, besides the books.
+
+Miss Darwell said, "Which would you like?"
+
+Henry fixed upon a large Noah's ark, and when it was reached down, he
+placed himself on the floor, and made a procession of its inmates. He
+placed Noah himself in front, with his little painted wife, and Shem,
+Ham, and Japhet, and their wives after him. Then came the beasts, and
+then the birds, and then the insects and creeping things. Lucy chose a
+dissected map of England and Wales, and another which formed a picture;
+and Emily, a box of bricks and doorways, and pillars and chimneys,
+and other things for building houses.
+
+Mrs. Colvin had told the children that they were to keep themselves
+quiet till dinner-time; so Miss Darwell took her doll, and for a long
+time they were all very still with their toys: they were to dine at
+half-past one, and Henry had not done with his ark when a female
+servant came into the outer room to lay the cloth.
+
+[Illustration: "_For a long time they all very still with their toys._"
+--Page 389.]
+
+"It is time to put up now," said Mrs. Colvin, calling from the next
+room.
+
+Lucy and Emily and Henry began immediately to put the things they had
+been playing with into the cases, and Lucy was putting her dissected
+map into the place from which she had taken it, when Miss Darwell said:
+
+"Don't put it away, Miss Fairchild; it shall be tied up ready to go
+with the carriage."
+
+Lucy did not understand her.
+
+"Did you not choose it, Miss Lucy?" said Miss Darwell; "if you please
+to accept it, I will send it in the carriage to-night with the bricks
+and the ark."
+
+"Thank you, dear Miss Darwell," Lucy answered; "but we must not take
+anything, unless your mamma and my mamma give leave."
+
+At that instant Mrs. Colvin called Lucy.
+
+"I called you, my dear, to tell you that you are quite right: you ought
+never to receive a present without your mamma's leave, and ought never
+to desire to receive one. But I have no doubt that Miss Darwell will
+remember to ask Mrs. Fairchild this evening if you may have them."
+
+"I will," said Miss Darwell; "I hope I shall not forget it in the
+bustle."
+
+"Shall I tell you of it?" said Henry.
+
+Lucy and Emily got as red as scarlet when Henry said these words; but
+Mrs. Colvin whispered:
+
+"Let him alone, he is very young, and he will get wiser as he gets
+older."
+
+"I shall be obliged to you to remind me of it, Henry," said Miss
+Darwell; "and I will speak the moment I see Mrs. Fairchild."
+
+How happily did the four children and the good governess dine together
+that day before the open window, where they could smell the sweet
+flowers in the garden below, and see a large pool which was beyond the
+trees, and still beyond that the green heights of the park.
+
+"I see people," said Henry, whose eyes were everywhere, "going up the
+park by that pretty white building which looks like a temple with a
+porch--there they go--I see women and children--and there are men
+carrying baskets. What are they doing, ma'am?" he added, looking at
+Mrs. Colvin.
+
+"Taking a pleasant walk this fine afternoon," she answered; "and we
+will walk too by-and-by, but upon one condition, as it is so very warm,
+that after dinner you will each of you take a book and sit quite still,
+until I speak the word for all to move."
+
+"Might I play with Noah's ark, ma'am, instead?" said Henry; "I will not
+move."
+
+"Very well," said Mrs. Colvin; and when they had dined, she directed
+Lucy and Emily to choose their books and sit down in any place they
+chose.
+
+Miss Darwell also took a book, as did Mrs. Colvin; and so still was
+everyone, that it might have been thought that there was not a creature
+in the room but the Seven Sleepers, unless it might be two or three
+bees which came buzzing in and out.
+
+"How pleasant," thought Mrs. Colvin, "it is to have to do with
+well-behaved children! I should not mind having these little
+Fairchilds always with me, at least till Henry is fit only to be
+managed by men."
+
+Lucy and Emily wished much to know what was going to be done in the
+park, but they did not find the time long. Lucy had chosen the _History
+of Mrs. Teachum_, and Emily the _Adventures of Robin, Dicksy, Flapsy,
+and Pecksy_, quite a new book, which she had never seen before. The
+great people in the parlour were to dine at four o'clock, that they
+also might go into the park afterwards; and a little before four the
+waiting-maid came up with the best things for Master and the Misses
+Fairchild, packed in a bandbox, the pretty presents of Miss Crosbie not
+having been forgotten.
+
+When Mrs. Colvin saw the box she called the children to her; they all
+came running but Henry.
+
+"Now, my dears," she said, "you have been very quiet, and it is time to
+dress;" and she offered the maid's help to dress Lucy and Emily.
+
+"No, thank you, ma'am," said Lucy; "we have no one to wait upon us at
+home; we always dress each other."
+
+"I wish," said Miss Darwell, "that I had a little sister whom I might
+dress; but Mrs. Colvin always dresses me," she added in a whisper to
+Lucy, "because she loves me, and I love her."
+
+"But where is Henry?" said Mrs. Colvin.
+
+They went to look, and there was he, sound asleep on the floor in the
+play-room, with Shem, Ham, and Japhet in his hands, and all the birds
+and beasts about him.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Colvin, "I did think he was the quietest boy that I
+had ever known, but he has lost a little credit with me now; most boys
+are quiet when they are asleep."
+
+Emily stooped down and kissed him, which caused him to wake; but when
+he was aroused he looked about him in such a surprised way that all
+the little girls laughed heartily, and he looked as if he felt ashamed.
+
+Mrs. Colvin set him to pack up his ark, whilst she showed Emily and
+Lucy into a room to dress, saying:
+
+"When you are ready, come to me, that I may see that all is right."
+
+When they were dressed they called Henry, who was yet to be dressed,
+and then sought Mrs. Colvin; she, too, was ready, and Miss Darwell was
+standing by her.
+
+The little lady, according to the taste of her mother, was set off with
+lace on her sleeves and feathers in her hat, and coloured shoes, and
+everything which could make a child fine; but her manner was not the
+least changed; she only seemed anxious that Lucy and Emily should look
+well. Mrs. Colvin turned them about, examining them, and made some
+amendment in the tying and pinning.
+
+"Well," she said, "you look very nice; little girls should always
+attend to neatness; it is a compliment due to those who care for them;
+and now each of you give me a kiss, and we will be off, as I see Henry
+is now ready, and Everard is waiting." They all then went down, and
+found Everard at the hall-door with the pony-carriage. A boy was
+holding a small horse by the carriage. "Now," said Mrs. Colvin, "how is
+it to be managed, Miss Darwell? Suppose I walk?"
+
+"No, no!" cried Miss Darwell; "Henry is to ride; I know he will like
+it, and Joseph shall walk by him, and you shall sit in front with
+Everard, and we little ones will go behind. There is quite room, and it
+is a very little way, and it will be so pleasant;" and thus it was
+settled, to the immense joy of Henry.
+
+Away they went through one gate and another gate, till they came upon
+the green smooth drive which went quite round the park.
+
+"Is not this pleasant?" said Miss Darwell, taking the hand of Lucy and
+Emily on each side; "but please first to call Henry, and tell him that
+I have settled about the things. I sent a note to Mrs. Fairchild whilst
+you were dressing, with a pencil to write yes or no, and she wrote the
+right word; so Henry will not have to remind me. Mrs. Colvin always
+tells me not to put things off. But now you shall know what we are
+going to do. Mamma lets me have a pleasure on my birthday, so I asked
+to have all the children in the parish invited to have tea in the park;
+and mamma has had tents put up, and we have got music, and the children
+are to play, and the old people are to come with the children. I was
+only afraid it would not be fine, but it is fine," she added, clapping
+her hands in her great delight; "but I would not tell you, that you
+might have something to guess about."
+
+They first went up a rising ground, then they came to a grove; then
+they passed under the white building which Henry called a temple. Then
+they saw a lovely sparkling waterfall; then they came to an open place,
+green and smooth; then they came to another grove, and there they found
+that they were getting amongst the people, some of whom Henry had seen
+going to that place three or four hours before. When country people
+have a holiday, they like to make the most of it; and very soon they
+saw the tents through the trees.
+
+Henry was first, and he looked back to his sisters as if he would have
+said, "These are the white things I saw this morning." There were four
+tents; they had pointed tops, but were open on the sides; tables were
+spread in each of them, and also under the trees in various places
+round about; and there sat several musicians on a bank. The people all
+about, men and women and children, were like bees swarming about the
+tents. There were parties of young people and children who had been
+playing and amusing themselves, but they all stood still when they saw
+the carriage coming, and the music struck up a fine merry tune to
+welcome the little lady.
+
+There were none of the grand people from the house yet come; those that
+were there were chiefly the cottagers, but they had all their very best
+dresses on, and all the poor children were dressed exactly alike. They
+wore dark blue cotton frocks with white tippets, and aprons, and caps.
+There were a few persons present, seated in one of the tents, who were
+not among the poor. Henry immediately saw Mrs. Burke and her daughters,
+for Mrs. Burke smiled kindly at him; the boys were somewhere among the
+people.
+
+But though there were so many, there was no fear that the feast would
+run short, for the tables were heaped up with bread and butter and
+cakes, and fruit, and tea and sugar, and there were pails of milk
+standing under the trees, and more bread, and more fruit, and more of
+everything. It was settled that when Miss Darwell came, the feast was
+to begin.
+
+"Oh!" cried Lucy, "how pleasant everything looks!"
+
+There was not time for any more to be said, for the carriage was
+getting close to the tents; it stopped, and Mrs. Colvin and the young
+people alighted.
+
+Miss Darwell was received by many smiling faces; every child looked at
+her with innocent delight, and the women murmured, "Bless her sweet
+face!" And then orders were given that the feast was to begin, and the
+people settled themselves on the grass in small parties.
+
+Mrs. Colvin having given Miss Darwell a hint, she went to speak to Mrs.
+Burke, and invited her and her daughters to come and assist in serving
+the people, and seeing that everyone had as much as they wished.
+
+Kind Mrs. Burke was the very person to like to be asked to do such a
+thing, and the Misses Burke could not be offended when they saw Miss
+Darwell as busily engaged as she possibly could be.
+
+"Now," said she to Lucy, and Emily, and Henry, "now you are to come
+with me; look at that little party under that oak; there is a very old
+woman and two children. There are more people near, but I don't want
+you to look at them--come close to them." And they all four walked
+towards them.
+
+"Do not stir, do not speak," said Miss Darwell, to the two children and
+the old woman; "let Master and the Misses Fairchild see if they
+recognise you again."
+
+The little ones under the tree entered into the joke, and sat quite
+still. The boy, indeed, laughed and chuckled; but the little girl kept
+her countenance. The old woman did not know Mr. Fairchild's children,
+so she had no trouble to keep herself from smiling.
+
+All these three were neatly dressed, and their clothes looked quite
+new. The boy had a suit of what is called hodden-gray, with a clean
+shirt as white as the snow.
+
+"I do not know them," said Lucy.
+
+"But I do," cried Henry.
+
+"And so do I," said Emily; "they are Edward and Jane."
+
+"Yes, Miss," said the two little ones, jumping up.
+
+"And it is all through you," added Edward, "that the good little lady
+has done everything for us: and the house is new thatched, and the
+walls made as white as paper; and more money given to grandmother; and
+me cowboy at Squire Burke's; and Jane in the school--don't Jane look
+well in them clothes, sir? Oh, that was a good day when we lighted on
+you, Master and Miss!" And the poor boy pulled the front lock of his
+hair and bowed I know not how many times.
+
+When every person had as much as was good for them, and a few persons,
+perhaps, a little more, orders were given that what remained should be
+set in order in the tents for supper; and then the music struck up. And
+whilst the elder people were amusing themselves in other places, Miss
+Darwell called all the little girls to follow her into a pretty green
+glade among the trees, and hidden from the rest of the company.
+
+Mrs. Colvin went with her, for she was never willing that her good
+governess should lose sight of her; and Lucy and Emily were equally
+anxious for her presence. Henry was the only boy allowed to come.
+
+"Now, Lucy," said Miss Darwell, for she was getting quite fond of her,
+"now there is to be some play, but I do not know many games; so you and
+Emily must lead. What shall we have?"
+
+"Lucy knows a thousand thousand games!" cried Henry.
+
+After some talking, "Hunt the Hare" was chosen; and Lucy, who was a
+particularly quick runner, was chosen for the hare, and everyone was to
+follow Lucy in and out wherever she went.
+
+All the children were to stand with joined hands in a circle; Lucy was
+to be in the middle. They began with dancing round her, and when they
+stopped she was to begin to run, and after ten had been counted, one
+other was let loose to follow her, and then the whole pack, as Henry
+called them, at a signal given.
+
+Miss Darwell got between Henry and Emily in the circle; Lucy was put
+into the midst; and they danced round her, singing, "My leader, my
+leader, I will follow my leader wherever she goes!" Then they stood
+still, and Lucy began to run out under one pair of hands and in under
+another, and back again, and about and about like a needle in a piece
+of cloth; and when ten had been counted, Henry was let loose, and then
+the sport really began. They expected he would have caught her
+immediately; he was as quick as ever his little legs would allow, and
+as true to all her windings as the thread is to those of the needle.
+But when he was following Lucy the last time through the middle of the
+circle, he gave the signal for the whole party to loose hands and
+follow him, and away they all went. But they could not get on for
+laughing, for Lucy had as many pranks as Harlequin himself, so that
+several of the children, and amongst these Miss Darwell herself, fairly
+stood still to laugh.
+
+This game lasted for some time. Then came "Puss in the Corner"; and
+then, as Mrs. Colvin thought there had been strong exercise enough, the
+evening being very hot, she made all the children sit down, and asked
+who could tell a story.
+
+"Lucy can," said Emily; and Lucy then, without hesitation, told the
+story of "Edwy and the Echo," by the particular desire of Miss Darwell.
+
+Lucy had one particularly pleasing quality, which arose in some degree
+from the habit of quick obedience in which she had been brought up;
+this was, that when, in company, desired by a proper person to do
+anything she could to make herself agreeable, she immediately tried;
+and when Mrs. Colvin had said, "If you can tell the story, Miss Lucy,
+do favour us with it," she took her place, and did it as easily as if
+Emily and Henry only had been by. Emily had the same wish to make
+herself pleasant as Lucy had, but she was naturally more shy. Everybody
+was so pleased with Lucy's story that she told another, and that was
+the story of "Margot and the Golden Fish," which delighted everyone,
+and was a useful story to the poor children.
+
+But now the sun was beginning to dip its golden disc below the hills,
+and the sound was heard of carriages. Mr. and Mrs. Darwell, and those
+who had dined with them, were come up into the park.
+
+Mrs. Colvin called on all the village children to put themselves in the
+neatest order, and to take their places two and two, she herself
+arranging Lucy and Emily and Miss Darwell in their bonnets and tippets;
+and then walked with her train to join the company.
+
+A great number of fine ladies and gentlemen were in the midst and
+within the tents, and there were Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+Mrs. Darwell spoke civilly, but very coldly, to Lucy and Emily. Mr.
+Darwell spoke kindly. The ladies and gentlemen had a great deal to say
+to Miss Darwell, but she was become very reserved among so many
+strangers, and seemed to cling close to Mrs. Colvin.
+
+The village people were then offered more refreshments, and as they
+could not take much, everything that was left was ordered to be given
+amongst them; but none of them had gone, when all who had come from the
+house returned to it.
+
+"I am very sorry you are going, dear Lucy and Emily and Henry," said
+Miss Darwell; "I have had the happiest day I ever had in my life. I
+thought I should like you, but I did not know how very much it would
+be."
+
+The little girls then kissed each other, and Mrs. Colvin gave them a
+note for their mother.
+
+"This," she said, "is to tell Mrs. Fairchild, that I care not how often
+you and Miss Darwell meet. I can add no more to that."
+
+The children were to go home with their father and mother; and if they
+loved Miss Darwell much already, they loved her more for her kindness
+when they saw three large brown paper parcels under the seat of the
+little carriage.
+
+They had a sweet drive home, though they had not time to tell all that
+had happened to their mother till the next day; but their parents knew,
+from Mrs. Colvin's note, as soon as they got home, that their children
+had behaved very well.
+
+[Illustration: "_In their neatest morning dresses._"--Page 383.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma Fairchild
+
+[Illustration: "Will Lucy love me?" said the old lady]
+
+
+After this very pleasant day at the park, and long before Lucy and
+Emily had left off talking about it, a note came from Miss Darwell, to
+say that they were all going to the sea, for which she was sorry,
+because she wanted to see them all again.
+
+Lucy answered the note, and said that she and Emily were also very,
+very sorry; and this they truly were. Several weeks then passed, and
+nothing particular happened, till a letter came from their grandmamma,
+saying that her grand-daughter was very ill, and much desired to see
+her uncle. "Indeed," added the old lady, "I feel that I shall be
+required to give up my Ellen also; but God does all things well."
+
+The letter came at breakfast-time, and Mr. Fairchild resolved to set
+out as soon as he possibly could get ready. There was a great bustle
+for the next hour, and then Mr. Fairchild took leave of his family, and
+was driven by John to the town--he was to go on from thence by the
+coach.
+
+The children stood to see them off, and then walked back into the
+house. Their mother told them to take their needlework and sit down in
+the parlour; and she gave Henry a book to read whilst she was busy in
+another part of the house. It was a very hot day, the window was open,
+and all was still--even the children did not speak for some time; at
+last Lucy said:
+
+"I hope poor cousin Ellen will not die. What will grandmamma do if she
+dies?"
+
+"If she did not live so far off," said Emily, "perhaps we might comfort
+her."
+
+"I never remember seeing her but twice," said Lucy, "and you never saw
+her, Henry."
+
+They went on talking about their grandmother till Mrs. Fairchild came
+in and sat down with them, and they still went on with the subject,
+asking her many questions, especially wherefore their grandmother had
+come so seldom to see them, and why they had not been asked to see her.
+From one thing to another they went on till they heard a much more
+regular account of the history of their family than they had ever heard
+before.
+
+"When I first knew your father's family, my dears," said Mrs.
+Fairchild, "your grandmother was living in Reading with two sons: the
+elder brother soon afterwards went to the East Indies, where he married
+and had several children. Your father was intended to have been a
+clergyman, but before he could be ordained he was attacked with an
+illness, which finished with such a weakness in the chest, that he knew
+he could never read the Service without danger. We had enough to live
+on, and we settled here, and here you were all born."
+
+"Yes," said Lucy, "and we love this dear place. We shall never like
+another so well; it would grieve me to leave it."
+
+"We must take things as they come," said Mrs. Fairchild, going on with
+her history. "Your uncle was abroad several years, and was enabled to
+make a very good fortune. Whilst you were a very little baby, Lucy, he
+returned to England, and then purchased that place where your
+grandmamma now lives, a place known by the name of The Grove, between
+Reading and London, on the banks of the Thames. His wife had died
+abroad, and several children also in infancy. He brought with him two
+little girls, of five and six years of age, Emily and Ellen; and they
+were lovely little creatures then," said Mrs. Fairchild; "their very
+paleness making them only look the more lovely. When I saw that sweet
+little Emily, I resolved, that if ever I had another girl, it should be
+an Emily.
+
+"My nieces lost their father only one year after they came to England,
+and then their grandmother settled herself quite down to give all her
+attention to them; and truly, from the extreme delicacy of their
+health, they needed all the care that she could give them. From the
+very earliest period of their lives they were invariably gentle,
+humble, and attentive to the comfort of every person who came near to
+them."
+
+"Were not they like Miss Darwell?" said Henry, who had dropped his
+book, and was listening with all his attention.
+
+"I think they were, Henry," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "and their outward
+circumstances were much alike--they were, like her, the daughters of a
+rich man, and brought up very tenderly. It was about four years since,"
+she continued, "that your lovely cousin Emily died of a rapid decline.
+A little before her death, seeing her sister weeping bitterly, she
+said, 'Do not cry, gentle sister, we shall not be parted long.' Ellen
+never forgot those words, though it was not till some time afterwards
+that she reminded your grandmamma of them."
+
+"And do you think she will now die, mamma, and go to her Emily?" said
+Lucy.
+
+"I cannot say," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "but she has certainly been
+gradually falling off ever since she lost her sister."
+
+Mr. Fairchild wrote every day; his accounts from the first were bad;
+they became worse and worse as to the hopes respecting the poor young
+lady, and her grandmother's anxiety. At last a letter came to say that
+she was dead, but had died in great peace.
+
+The children cried very much, but more for their grandmother than for
+their cousin; for they had not a doubt that she was happy. Then, too,
+Lucy and Emily began to think how they could make up the loss to the
+old lady, if she would but come and live with them; and then they began
+to plan what rooms she could have, and were a little puzzled because
+the house was very small; yet Lucy said she thought it might be
+contrived.
+
+The next letter from Mr. Fairchild said that he had persuaded his
+mother to leave The Grove for a few weeks; and that she was to set out
+the next day with her maid, whilst he remained to settle everything.
+
+The old lady was expected to come the day after the next, as she would
+sleep on the road; and there was much to be done to get everything
+ready, and to see after mourning.
+
+Lucy and Emily had many plans for comforting their grandmother; and as
+the old lady was used to be wheeled about in a Bath-chair, John was
+sent to the Park to borrow one which had belonged to Sir Charles
+Noble's mother.
+
+The elder Mrs. Fairchild was old, and had long been affected by
+lameness, which prevented her from walking with ease; and this her
+daughter-in-law knew. There was nothing she would not have done to make
+her comfortable. Henry cheerfully gave up his room for the maid, and
+had a little bed put up for him in the play-room. He had settled that
+he was to be his grandmother's horse as soon as he saw the Bath-chair.
+
+The children had not known much of their cousins; they had been at
+their grandmother's only once since they could remember, for the very
+bad health of their cousins had prevented their going with their father
+when he went to see his mother; they could not therefore feel for their
+cousins as if they had known them well, but they thought very much of
+their grandmother's loss.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild had settled that the old lady was to have the use of
+their little drawing-room, and no one but herself was to go to her in
+that room unless she wished it; and she told the children they must
+expect her to be very sad indeed till after the funeral, and that they
+must be very quiet, and not come in her sight unless she desired it.
+
+She was not expected until the evening of the third day after they had
+heard she was coming; and then Henry went up to the top of the round
+hill to watch for the carriage, and to be the first to give notice of
+it.
+
+It was not far from six o'clock when he first saw it coming down the
+hill towards the village, and he was not sure of it for some time; he
+then ran in, and went up with Lucy and Emily to their window to wait
+till it came.
+
+After a while they heard the sound of it; then they saw John go to the
+gate and set it open; then they drew back a little, not to be seen, and
+came forward when the carriage stopped, but they did not see the old
+lady get out. Mrs. Fairchild was below to receive her, and to lead her
+into the house: but they saw the maid busy in seeing the things taken
+out of the carriage, and they heard her giving her orders. This maid
+was not the same who had for years waited on the old lady, but one who
+had taken the place whilst the old waiting-maid stayed behind to take
+care of the house. This new maid called herself Miss Tilney: her
+mistress called her Jane, but no one else took that liberty. She was
+dressed as smartly as she could be in deep mourning; and she gave
+orders in such a sharp tone that the children could hear every word she
+said.
+
+She called Betty "young woman," and bade her carry up some of the
+parcels to her lady's room. She asked John his name; and told the
+postboy he was not worth his salt.
+
+"Well," said Henry, "there will be no need for my making a noise to
+disturb grandmamma; that woman would make enough for us all."
+
+"That woman!" cried Emily; "don't speak so loud, she will hear you."
+
+In a few minutes the boxes were all removed, and the carriage driven
+away; and then the children heard the maid's voice talking to Betty in
+the next room, which was the only spare room in the house. They heard
+her say, "Well, to be sure, but our rooms at The Grove are so large,
+that one is not used to such bandboxes as these."
+
+"I am sure," said Henry, "the room is good enough for her:" and he was
+going to say more, when his sisters stopped him, and begged him not to
+listen. "I don't listen," he answered; "I hear without listening."
+
+They were interrupted by Mrs. Fairchild, who came to tell them that
+their grandmother had asked for them. Mrs. Fairchild walked first, and
+opened the drawing-room door; there they saw their grandmother. She was
+a neat little old lady in black, exactly such as they fancied Mrs.
+Howard had been. She was seated, and looked very pale. At the sight of
+them she became paler than before; she held out her hands to them, and
+they all three rushed into her arms.
+
+"My children, my precious children!" said the old lady, kissing one and
+another as they pressed forward.
+
+"We will be your own grandchildren," said Lucy; "we will comfort you
+and read to you, and do everything for you. Do not be unhappy, dear
+grandmamma, we will all be your own children."
+
+The old lady was scarcely able to speak, but she murmured to herself:
+
+"Yes, my God is good, I am not left without comfort."
+
+"Stand back, my dears," said Mrs. Fairchild, "and let your grandmamma
+look at you quietly--you overpower her."
+
+They drew back. The old lady wiped away a tear or two which dimmed her
+sight, and then, with a gentle smile, she looked first at Lucy.
+
+"She has the oval face and gentle look so dear to me," said the old
+lady; "this is Lucy. Will Lucy love me?"
+
+The little girl, being thus called upon, fell again on grandmamma's
+neck, and quite sobbed with feeling; she soon, however, recovered
+herself, and pointing to her sister:
+
+"This is Emily, grandmamma," she said.
+
+"Another Emily!" replied the old lady, "I am rich indeed!" and, fixing
+her eyes on the younger little girl, "I could almost think I had my
+child again. Daughter," she added, speaking to Mrs. Fairchild, "do my
+eyes deceive me? Is there not a likeness? But your little girls are
+such exactly as I fondly wished them to be. And this is Henry, our
+youngest one;" and she took his hand in hers, and said, "Did you expect
+to see grandmamma looking so very old, my little man?"
+
+"No, ma'am," replied Henry, "not quite so old;" and the little boy made
+a bow, thinking how very civil he ought to be to his own father's
+mother.
+
+"He does not mean to be rude, ma'am," said Lucy.
+
+"I see it, my dear," replied the old lady, smiling. "Do not, I pray
+you, say anything to destroy his honesty--the world will soon enough
+teach him to use deception."
+
+Henry did not understand all this, but fearing, perhaps, to lose his
+place as grandmamma's horse, he took the occasion to ask if he might
+not be her horse.
+
+"What is it, my child?" said the old lady.
+
+"May I be your horse, ma'am?" he said.
+
+"My horse?" repeated the old lady, looking for an explanation from
+Lucy; and when she had got it, she made him quite happy by assuring him
+that no horse could please her better.
+
+She did not drink tea that evening with the family, and went very early
+to bed; but having seen them all that evening, she was ready to meet
+them more calmly in the morning, and quite prepared to rejoice in the
+blessing of having such grandchildren to make up her losses.
+
+
+
+
+Great Changes
+
+[Illustration: "Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like"]
+
+
+Henry arose the next morning as soon as he heard the step of John in
+the garden, and was very soon with him, asking him what he could do to
+help him. Henry loved to help John.
+
+John did not answer in his own cheerful way, but said:
+
+"I don't know, Master Henry; it can't much matter now, I reckon, what
+we do, or what we leave undone."
+
+"Why, John?" said Henry.
+
+"You will know soon enough," John answered, "but it shan't be from me
+you shall learn it. I suppose, however," he added, "that we must get
+the peas for dinner; folks must eat, though the world should come to an
+end next Michaelmas."
+
+"What is the matter, John?" said Henry; "I am sure something is."
+
+"Well," replied John, "if there is nothing else, is it not enough to
+have that lady's-maid there in the kitchen finding fault with
+everything, and laying down the law, and telling me to my face that I
+don't understand so much as to graff a tree?"
+
+"Who says so, John?" asked Henry.
+
+"Why, my lady's maid," replied John; "that Miss Tilney or Tolney, or
+some such name, as is written as large as life on her boxes. As to the
+old lady, she has a good right to come here, but she did very wrong to
+bring that woman with her, to disturb an orderly family. Why, Master
+Henry, she makes ten times the jabbering Mag does."
+
+"I wish, then, she would fly away over the barn," said Henry, "as Mag
+did."
+
+"We would none of us go after her," replied John, "to bring her back;
+but I am a fool," added the honest man; "here have I lived ever since
+master came here, and most of these trees did I plant and graff with my
+own hands, and made the sparrow-grass beds and all, and now this woman
+is to come with her nonsense, and turn everything topsy-turvy."
+
+Henry was quite puzzled; he saw that John was vexed, and he knew that
+the words topsy-turvy meant upside-down; but he could not understand
+how the lady's-maid could turn the roots of the trees up in the air. He
+was going to ask an explanation, when a very shrill voice was heard
+screaming, "Mr. John, Mr. John!"
+
+"There again!" cried John, "even the garden can't be clear of
+her--there, Master Henry, put down the basket and be off, she is no
+company for you. If you see her, and she asks for me, tell her I am
+gone to clean the pig-sty; she will not follow me there." So off ran
+John one way, and Henry another.
+
+But Henry was not so lucky in his flight as John was; he ran into a
+narrow walk enclosed on each side with filberts, and before he was
+aware came quite opposite to the lady's-maid. He thought she looked
+very fine--quite a lady herself; and he stopped short, and wished her
+good-morning. Had she been the poorest person he would have done the
+same, for his parents had taken great pains to make him civil to
+everyone.
+
+"Master Fairchild, I presume," cried the maid. "A charming morning,
+sir. I was looking for Mr. John, to ask him if he would please to
+select some flowers to arrange in my mistress's room: she always has
+flowers in her dressing-room at The Grove."
+
+"John," said Henry, "is gone to clean the pig-sty."
+
+The lady's-maid drew up her lip, and looked disgusted.
+
+"Faugh!" said she, "I shall not think of troubling _him_ to cull the
+flowers."
+
+"Shall I get some for grandmamma?" asked Henry.
+
+She thanked him for his politeness, and accepted his offer.
+
+The little boy walked before her to where there was a bit of raised
+ground covered with rose-bushes.
+
+"There, ma'am," he said, "you can gather any you like."
+
+"Upon my word, Master Fairchild, you are uncommon polite," she said; "I
+shall tell our people at home what a handsome genteel young gentleman
+you are. They will be so desirous to know all about you--and not at all
+high and proud neither, though you have such great prospects."
+
+"What do you mean by great prospects, ma'am?" asked Henry; "I do not
+understand you."
+
+"That is your humility, Master Fairchild," said the maid; "to be sure,
+this place is but small, and I wonder how you could have managed in it
+so long, but it is neat and very genteel; yet, when you have seen The
+Grove, you will think nothing of this little box here."
+
+"What box?" asked Henry.
+
+"This house, Master Fairchild," she answered; "you might put the whole
+place into the hall at The Grove."
+
+"What an immense hall!" said Henry in amazement.
+
+"Poor Betty, as I tell her," said the maid, "will be quite out of her
+place amongst so many servants; she can't bear to hear it talked of."
+
+"What talked of?" answered Henry. "But please not to gather the
+rose-buds; mamma does not like them to be gathered."
+
+"To be sure, Master Fairchild," said the maid, "and that is just right.
+In a small garden like this one should be particular; yet, at The
+Grove, a few rose-buds would never be missed. But you are a very good
+young gentleman to be so attentive to your dear mamma; I am sure I
+shall delight our people by the account I shall have to give when I go
+back; and I am to go back when Mrs. Johnson comes, and that will be in
+a few days. I shall tell them there that you are not only very good,
+but vastly genteel, and so like pretty Miss Ellen--and she was quite a
+beauty--dear young lady! You will see her picture as large as life in
+the drawing-room at The Grove, Master Fairchild."
+
+Henry did not understand one-half of what the maid said to him, and was
+very glad when he heard the step of someone coming round the little
+mound of rose-bushes. It was Emily's step; she came to call him to
+breakfast; she was dressed with a clean white pinafore, and her hair
+hung about her face in soft ringlets; she looked grave, but, in her
+usual way, mild and gentle.
+
+When she saw the maid, she, too, said, "Good-morning."
+
+"That young lady is your sister, no doubt, Master Fairchild," said the
+maid.
+
+"It is Emily," said Henry.
+
+"I should have known the sweet young lady anywhere," she answered; "so
+like the family, so pretty and so genteel. Miss Emily, I wish you
+health to enjoy your new place."
+
+Emily was as much puzzled as Henry had been with Miss Tilney's
+speeches. She said, "Thank you, ma'am," however, and walked away with
+Henry.
+
+Their grandmother had slept later than usual; she had not rested well
+in the early part of the night, and had fallen asleep after the rest of
+the family were gone down.
+
+She was not, therefore, present in the parlour; and when Henry came in,
+and had gotten his breath--for he and Emily had run to the house--he
+began to repeat some of the things which the maid had said to him, and
+to ask what they meant. Emily also repeated her speech to herself; and
+Lucy looked to her mother to explain these strange things.
+
+"Cannot you guess, my children?" said Mrs. Fairchild, rather changing
+countenance; "but I had hoped that for a few days this business might
+not be explained to you. Our servants would not have told you, but I
+see that others will, so perhaps it is best that you should hear it
+now."
+
+"What is it, mamma?" said all three at once; "nothing bad, we hope."
+
+"Not bad," replied Mrs. Fairchild, "though it is what I and your dear
+papa had never wished for."
+
+"Oh, do tell us!" said Lucy, trembling.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild then told them that, by the death of their poor cousin,
+their father had come into the possession of the house and estate at
+The Grove, and, in fact, the whole of his late brother's fortune.
+
+The children could not at first understand this, but when they did,
+they were much excited.
+
+Their mother, after a while, told them that it would probably be
+necessary for them to leave that dear place, and go to The Grove, their
+grandmamma wishing to be always with them, and having her own
+comfortable rooms at The Grove.
+
+Lucy and Emily began to shed tears on hearing of this, but they said
+nothing at that time.
+
+Henry said:
+
+"But John, mamma, and Betty--what can we do without them?"
+
+"Can't they go with us, my dear?" said Mrs. Fairchild.
+
+"And John Trueman, and nurse, and Mary Bush, and Margery,
+and--and--and----" added Henry, not being able to get out any more
+names in his impatience.
+
+"And the school!" said Emily.
+
+"We do not live in the same house with these persons last mentioned,"
+answered Mrs. Fairchild, "and therefore they would not miss us as those
+would do with whom we may reside; we must help them at a distance. If
+you, Lucy and Emily, have more money given you now, you must save it
+for these poor dear people. Kind Mrs. Burke will divide it amongst them
+as they want it; and she will look after the school."
+
+"Oh, Emily!" said Lucy, "we will save all we can."
+
+Emily could not speak, but she put her hand in Lucy's, and Lucy knew
+what that meant.
+
+Who could think of lessons such a day as this? As soon as breakfast was
+over, Henry ran to talk to John about all that he heard: and Lucy and
+Emily, with their mother's leave, went out into the air to recover
+themselves before they appeared in the presence of their grandmother.
+They were afraid of meeting the maid, so they went up to the top of the
+round hill, and seated themselves in the shade of the beech-trees.
+
+For a little while they looked about them, particularly down on the
+house and garden and the pleasant fields around them, every corner of
+which they knew as well as children always know every nook in the
+place in which they have spent their early days. They were both
+shedding tears, and yet trying to hide them from each other. Lucy was
+the first who spoke.
+
+"Oh, Emily!" she said, "I cannot bear to think of leaving this dear
+home. Can we ever be so happy again as we have been here?"
+
+The little girls were silent again for some minutes, and then Lucy went
+on:
+
+"Oh, Emily! how many things I am thinking of! There--don't you see the
+little path winding through the wood to the hut? How many happy
+evenings we have had in that hut! Shall we ever have another? And there
+is the way to Mary Bush's."
+
+"Do you remember the walk we had there with Betty a long time ago?"
+said Emily.
+
+"Ah! I can remember, still longer ago, when you were very little, and
+Henry almost a baby," said Lucy, "papa carrying us over the field there
+to nurse's, and getting flowers for us."
+
+"I should like," she added, "to live in this place, and all of us
+together, just as we are now, a hundred years."
+
+"I feel we shall never come back if we go away," said Emily.
+
+"We shall never come back and be what we have been," replied Lucy;
+"that time is gone, I know. This is our last summer in this happy
+place. Oh, if I had known it when we were reading Henry's story at the
+hut, how very sad I should have been!"
+
+"I cannot help crying," said Emily; "and I must not cry before our poor
+grandmamma."
+
+"These things which are happening," said Lucy, "make me think of what
+mamma has often said, that it seldom happens that many years pass
+without troubles and changes. I never could understand them before, but
+I do now."
+
+"Because," added Emily, "we have lived such a very, very long time just
+in the same way."
+
+The two little girls sat talking until they both became more calm; but
+they had left off talking of their own feelings some time before they
+left the hill, and began to speak of their grandmother; and they tried
+to put away their own little griefs, as far as they could, that they
+might comfort her. With these good thoughts in their minds, they came
+down the hill and returned to the house.
+
+[Illustration: "_It was Emily's step._"--Page 411.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma and the Children
+
+[Illustration: Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories]
+
+
+"I don't care so much now," said Henry, meeting them at the door; "John
+says he will go with us, if it is to the world's end, or as far as the
+moon; and Betty says she will go too; and we can take the horse and
+Mag--so we shall do. But grandmamma is up and has had her breakfast,
+and we have got the Bath-chair ready, and she says that she will let us
+draw her round the garden; and I am to pull, and John says he will come
+and push, if the lady's-maid is not there too. He says that the worst
+thing about going with us, is that lady's-maid; and he hopes, for that
+reason, that the house will be very large."
+
+Lucy and Emily ran to their grandmother; she was in the drawing-room;
+she kissed and blessed them, and looked at them with tears in her eyes.
+
+"Grandmamma," said Lucy, "we have thought about it, and we will go with
+you to The Grove, and be your own children; only we would like you best
+to stay here."
+
+"My own sweet children," replied the old lady, "we will refer all
+these things to your papa and mamma. I am too old, and you are too
+young, to manage worldly matters; so we will leave these cares to those
+who are neither so young nor so old; God will guide them, I know, to
+what is best."
+
+"Come, grandmamma," said Henry, putting his head only into the room,
+"the carriage is ready."
+
+"And so am I," said the old lady, and she stepped out into the passage,
+and was soon in her Bath-chair.
+
+John was ready to push, but seeing the maid come out to take her place
+behind the chair, he walked away without a word.
+
+Miss Tilney, as she called herself, had not much to say before her
+mistress, so that she did not disturb the little party.
+
+They did not go beyond the garden, but stopped often in shady places,
+where one of the children sat at their grandmother's feet, and the
+others on the grass.
+
+The old lady seemed sometimes to have difficulty to be cheerful. She
+was often thinking, no doubt, of what was going on at The Grove, for
+the funeral was not over. She could not yet speak of the children she
+had lost.
+
+Lucy guessed what made her sad, and for some minutes she was thinking
+what she could say to amuse her; she thought of several subjects to
+speak about; and, young as she was, settled in her own mind she must
+not speak of anything sad. At last she thought of what she would say,
+and she began by asking her if she saw a high piece of ground covered
+with trees at some distance.
+
+"I do, my dear," replied the old lady.
+
+"Would you like to hear about an old house which is beyond that wood?"
+
+The grandmother was not so desirous of hearing about the old house, as
+she was to hear how her little grand-daughter could talk. By the words
+of children we may learn a great deal of their characters, and how they
+have been taught; and so she begged Lucy to tell her about this old
+house.
+
+It was Mrs. Goodriche's house that Lucy meant: and she began by telling
+what sort of a house it was; and who lived in it now; and what a kind
+lady she was; and how they went often to see her; and what pretty
+stories she could tell them, particularly about Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Mrs. Howard!" repeated old Mrs. Fairchild, "I have heard of her; I
+knew the family of the Symondses well. Do, Lucy, tell me all you know
+about that good lady."
+
+How pleasant it was to Lucy to think that she had found out the very
+thing to amuse her grandmother; and she went on, and on, until, with a
+word or two now and then from Emily, she had told the two stories of
+Mrs. Howard, and told them very prettily and straightforward--not as
+Henry would have done, with the wrong end foremost, but right forward,
+and everything in its place. Mrs. Fairchild had always accustomed her
+little girls to give accounts of any books they read; and Lucy had
+always been particularly clever in doing this exercise well.
+
+Grandmamma was very much pleased with Lucy's stories--pleased every
+way; and it might be seen that she was so by her often asking her to go
+on.
+
+The maid was also much amused, and when Lucy had told all, she said to
+her mistress:
+
+"Indeed, ma'am, Miss Lucy is a most charming young lady, as agreeable
+as she is pretty, and I am sure you have the greatest reason to be
+proud of her; and, indeed, of the other young lady, too, Miss Emily;
+and Master Fairchild himself, he does honour to his family."
+
+"None of this, Tilney, I beg," said the old lady; "I rejoice in what I
+see of these dear children, and I thank God on their account; but we
+must not flatter them. I thank my Lucy for her stories, and her wishes
+to amuse poor grandmamma; and I thank my gentle Emily for the help she
+has given; but as to little boys in pinafores doing honour to their
+families, you must know that is quite out of the question. It is enough
+for me to say that I love my little boy, and that I find him very kind,
+and that I think his dear papa and mamma have, so far, brought him up
+well."
+
+About noon the little party went into the house: the old lady lay down
+to read, and the rest went to their own rooms. They met again at
+dinner, and at tea; then came another airing; and they finished the day
+with reading the Bible and prayers.
+
+Several days passed much in the same way, till Mr. Fairchild returned.
+He brought grandmamma's own servant with him; and Miss Tilney, to the
+great joy of John and Betty, went the next day.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild had much business to do, for it was settled that
+they were all to move to The Grove in the autumn; but the old lady,
+having her own maid with her, and having become very fond of the
+children, did not depend on her son and daughter for amusement.
+
+After Mr. Fairchild returned, she went out much farther in the
+Bath-chair, and was drawn to many of the places loved by the children.
+That summer was one of the finest ever known in the country, and many
+were the hours spent by the little party about the Bath-chair, in the
+shade of the woods.
+
+At these times grandmamma would often speak of the children she had
+lost, and of the happy years which she had spent with them. How very
+pleasant good and cheerful old people are! They are pleasanter than
+young ones, because they have seen so much, and have so many old
+stories to tell. Grandmamma remembered the time when ladies wore large
+hoops and long ruffles and lappets, and when gentlemen's coats were
+trimmed with gold lace. She could tell of persons who had been born
+above a hundred years ago, persons she had herself seen and talked to;
+and her way of talking was not like that of many grown-up people who
+make children covetous and envious. That was not grandmamma's way; she
+was like the eagle in the fable, always trying to encourage her eaglets
+to fly upwards; and she did this so pleasantly that her grandchildren
+were never tired of hearing her talk. One of grandmamma's stories is so
+interesting that we will relate it in this place.
+
+[Illustration: "_A hundred years ago._"--Page 455.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part I.
+
+[Illustration: To teach little Francis his letters]
+
+
+"Will it not sound very strange to you, my dear children," said old
+Mrs. Fairchild, "to hear me talk of people, whom I knew very well, who
+were born one hundred years or more ago? But when you know that I can
+remember many things which happened seventy years ago, and that I then
+knew several people who were more than seventy years old--even Henry
+will be able to make out more than a hundred years since the time that
+they were born."
+
+"Stop, grandmamma," said Henry, "and I will do the sum in the sand."
+
+Henry then took a stick and wrote 70 on the ground.
+
+"Now add to that another seventy, and cast it up, my boy," said
+grandmamma.
+
+"It comes," cried Henry, "to a hundred and forty; only think,
+grandmamma, you can remember people who were born a hundred and forty
+years ago: how wonderful!"
+
+"And the odd years are not counted," remarked Emily: "perhaps if we
+were to count them they might come up to a hundred and fifty."
+
+"Very likely, my dears," said the old lady; "so do you all sit still,
+and I will begin my story.
+
+"One hundred and, we will say, forty years ago, there resided near the
+town of Reading, in which I was born, a very wealthy family, descended
+from the nobility, though through a younger son.
+
+"There are some reasons why I shall not mention the real name, or
+rather the first name of the family, for it had two; I will therefore
+give the second, which was Vaughan. They had many houses and fine
+lands, amongst which was The Grove, the place which we have now.
+
+"The Mrs. Vaughan who was married one hundred and forty years ago was a
+very particular woman, and insisted on abandoning all her pleasant
+places in the country, and residing in a very dull and dismal
+old-fashioned place just at the end of one of the streets at Reading. I
+shall tell you more about that place by-and-by.
+
+"This lady had four daughters before she had a son; not one of these
+daughters ever married. They were reared in the greatest pride, and no
+one was found good enough to marry them. There was Mistress Anne, and
+Mistress Catherine, and Mistress Elizabeth, and Mistress Jane, for in
+these old days the title of Miss was not often used.
+
+"After many years, Mrs. Vaughan added a son to her family, and soon
+afterwards became a widow.
+
+"This son lived many years unmarried, and was what you, my children,
+would call an old man, when he took a young and noble wife. The
+daughter and only child of this Mr. Vaughan was about my age, and she
+is the person whose history I am going to tell you.
+
+"There is a picture of her at The Grove in the room in which your dear
+cousins spent many of their early days. It is drawn at full length, and
+is as large as life. It represents a child, of maybe five years of
+age, in a white frock, placing a garland on the head of a lamb; behind
+the child, an old-fashioned garden is represented, and a distant view
+of The Grove house in which she was born."
+
+"But, grandmamma," said Henry, "you have not told us that little girl's
+name."
+
+"Her name was Evelyn," answered the old lady; "the only person I ever
+knew with that name."
+
+"But it is a pretty one," remarked Lucy.
+
+"There were a great many people to make a great bustle about little
+Evelyn, when she came: there were her own mother and her father, and
+there were the four proud aunts, and many servants and other persons
+under the family, for it was known that if no more children were born,
+Evelyn would have all her father's lands, and houses, and parks, and
+all her mother's and aunts' money and jewels.
+
+"But, with all these great expectations, Evelyn's life began with
+sorrow. Her mother died before she could speak, and her father also,
+very soon after he had caused her picture to be drawn with the lamb."
+
+"Poor little girl!" said Lucy; "all her riches could not buy her
+another papa and mamma. But what became of her then, grandmamma?"
+
+"She was taken," added the old lady, "to live under the care of her
+aunts, at the curious old house I spoke of as being close at the end of
+the town of Reading; and she desired to bring nothing with her but the
+pet lamb, which, by this time, was getting on to be as big as a sheep,
+though it still knew her, and would eat out of her hand, and would
+frisk about her.
+
+"The four Mistresses Vaughan were at the very head and top of formal
+and fashionable people. As far as ever I knew them, and I knew them
+very well at one time, they were all form, and ceremony, and outside
+show, in whatever they did, until they were far, very far advanced in
+years, and had been made, through many losses and sorrows, to feel the
+emptiness of all worldly things. But I have reason to hope that the
+eyes of some of them were then opened to think and hope for better
+things than this life can give; but I shall speak of them as they were
+when Evelyn was under their care, and when I was acquainted well with
+them.
+
+"The entrance to the house where they lived was through heavy stone
+gates, which have long since been removed; and along an avenue formed
+by double rows of trees, many of which are now gone.
+
+"I have often, when a little child, been taken by my nurse to walk in
+that avenue; and I thought it so very long, that had I not seen it
+since, I could have fancied it was miles in length."
+
+"That is just like me, grandmamma," said Henry; "when I was a little
+boy, I used to think that the walk through Mary Bush's wood was miles
+and miles long."
+
+"And so did I," added Emily; and then the story went on.
+
+"At the farthest end of this avenue," continued grandmamma, "the ground
+began to slope downwards, and then the house began to appear, but so
+hidden by tall dark cypress-trees, and hedges, and _walls_, I may call
+them, of yew and box and hornbeam, all cut in curious forms and shapes,
+that one could only here and there see a gable, or a window, or door,
+but in no place the whole of the front. The house had been built many,
+many years before, and it was a curious wild place both within and
+without, though immensely large. The way up to the door of the
+principal hall was by a double flight of stone steps, surmounted with
+huge carved balustrades. Nothing could, however, be seen from any
+window of the house but trees; those which were near being cut into
+all sorts of unnatural forms, and those which were beyond the garden
+growing so thickly as entirely to shut out the rays of the sun from the
+ground below."
+
+"I should like to see that place, grandmamma," said Lucy.
+
+"You would see little, my child," replied the old lady, "of what it was
+seventy years ago. I am told that it is altogether changed. But if the
+place was gloomy and stiff without, it was worse within, where the four
+old ladies ordered and arranged everything. I can tell you how they
+passed their days. They all breakfasted either in their own
+dressing-rooms or in bed, being waited upon by their own maids."
+
+"Why did they do that, grandmamma?" asked Henry.
+
+"I will tell you, my dear," answered the old lady. "At that time, when
+I was a little girl, and knew those ladies, people dressed in that
+stiff troublesome way which you may have seen in old pictures.
+
+"The ladies wore, in the first place, very stiff stays; and those who
+thought much of being smart, had them laced as tight as they could well
+bear. Added to these stays, they wore hoops or petticoats well
+stiffened with whalebone. Some of these hoops were of the form of a
+bell with the mouth downwards--these were the least ugly; others were
+made to stand out on each side from the waist, I am afraid to say how
+far; but those made for grand occasions were nearly as wide as your arm
+would be, if it were extended on one side as far as it would go. Over
+these hoops came the petticoats and gowns, which were made of the
+richest silk--for a gown in those days would have cost thirty or forty
+pounds. Then there was always a petticoat and a train; and these, in
+full dress, were trimmed with the same silk in plaits and flounces,
+pinked and puckered, and I know not what else. The sleeves were made
+short and tight, with long lace trebled ruffles at the elbows; and
+there were peaked stomachers pinned with immense care to the peaked
+whalebone stays. It was quite a business to put on these dresses, and
+must have been quite a pain to walk in the high-heeled silk shoes and
+brilliant buckles with which they were always seen. They also wore
+watches, and equipages, and small lace mob caps, under which the hair
+was drawn up stiff and tight, and as smooth as if it had been gummed."
+
+"Oh, I am glad I did not live then!" said Lucy, fetching a deep breath;
+"yet it is very pleasant to hear these stories of people who lived just
+before we did; and there is no harm in liking it, is there,
+grandmamma?"
+
+"None in the least, my child," said grandmamma; "the persons who
+remember anything of those times are getting fewer and fewer every day.
+If young people, then, are wise, instead of always talking their own
+talk, as they are too apt to do, they will have a pleasure in listening
+to old persons, and in gathering up from them all they can tell of
+manners and customs, the very memories of which are now passing away.
+But now, Henry, my boy, you may understand why the Mistresses Vaughan
+always breakfasted in their own rooms; they never chose to appear but
+in their full dress, and were glad to get an hour or two every morning
+unlaced, and without their hoops.
+
+"About noon they all came swimming and sailing down into a large
+saloon, where they spent the rest of their morning. It was a vast low
+room, with bright polished oaken floors, and with only a bit of fine
+carpet in the middle of it. They each brought with them a bag for
+knotting, and they generally sat together in such state till it was
+time for their airing.
+
+"This airing was taken in a coach-and-four; and they generally went the
+same road and turned at the same place every day but Sunday throughout
+the week. They dined at two, and drank tea at five; for though they had
+some visitors who came to tea, they were too high to return these
+visits. They finished every evening by playing at quadrille; supped at
+nine, and then retired to their rooms."
+
+"What tiresome people!" said Henry; "how could they spend such lives? I
+would much rather live with John Trueman, and help to thatch, than have
+been with them."
+
+"But how did they spend their Sundays, grandmamma?" asked Emily.
+
+"They went to church in Reading," answered the old lady; "where they
+had a grand pew lined with crimson cloth. They never missed going
+twice; they came in their coach-and-four; they did not knot on Sundays,
+but I can hardly say what they did beside."
+
+Lucy fetched a deep breath again, and grandmamma went on.
+
+"It was to this house, and to be under the care of these ladies, that
+little Miss Evelyn came, the day after her father's funeral. She was
+nearly broken-hearted.
+
+"The Mistresses Vaughan were not really unkind, though very slow in
+their feelings; so, after the funeral, they soothed the child, taking
+her with them from The Grove to their own house, where she afterwards
+always remained. But they did another unfeeling thing, without seeming
+to be aware of it: Evelyn's nurse had been most kind to her, but she
+unhappily spoke broad Berkshire, and was a plain, ordinary-looking
+person; so she was dismissed, with a handsome legacy left by her
+master, and the poor little girl was placed under the care of a sort of
+upper servant called Harris. Harris was charged never to use any but
+the most genteel language in her presence, and to treat her with the
+respect due to a young lady who was already in possession of a vast
+property, though under guardians.
+
+"Three handsome rooms in one wing of the house on the first floor were
+given to the little lady and Harris; and an inferior female servant was
+provided to wait upon them in private, and a footman to attend the
+young lady in public. It was not the custom for young children then to
+dine with the family; the only meal, therefore, which Evelyn took with
+her aunts was the tea, when she saw all the company who ever visited
+them; her breakfast and dinner were served up in her own rooms.
+
+"She was required to come down at noon, and to go down and salute her
+aunts and ask their blessing; and whenever any one of them declined the
+daily airing, she was invited to take the vacant place as a great
+treat.
+
+"Her education was begun by Harris, who taught her to read, to use her
+needle, and to speak genteelly; it was afterwards carried on by masters
+from Reading, for her aunts had no sort of idea of that kind of
+education which can only be carried on by intellectual company and
+teachers. Harris was told that no expense would be spared for Miss
+Vaughan; that her dress must be of the first price and fashion; that if
+she desired toys she was to have them, and as many gift-books as St.
+Paul's Church-yard supplied.
+
+"As to her religious duties, Harris was to see that she was always very
+well dressed, and in good time to go to Church with her aunts; that she
+was taught her Catechism; and that she read a portion every day of some
+good book; one of the old ladies recommending the _Whole Duty of Man_,
+another Nelson's _Fasts and Festivals_, a third Boston's _Fourfold
+State_, whilst the fourth, merely, it is to be feared, in opposition to
+her sisters, remarked, half aside to Harris, that all the books above
+mentioned were very good, to be sure, but too hard for a child, and
+therefore that the Bible itself might, she thought, answer as well,
+till Miss Vaughan could manage hard words. As Harris herself had no
+particular relish for any of the books mentioned, she fixed upon the
+Bible as being the easiest, and moreover being divided into shorter
+sections than the other three.
+
+"So Evelyn was to have everything that a child could wish for that
+could be got with money; and though Harris minded to the letter every
+order that was given her, yet she thought only of serving herself in
+all she did. In private with the child she laid praises and flattery
+upon her as thick as honey in a full honeycomb; she never checked her
+in anything she desired, so long as she did nothing which might
+displease her aunts, should it come to their knowledge; she scarcely
+ever dressed her without praising her beauty, or gave her a lesson
+without telling her how quick and clever she was. She talked to her of
+the fine fortune she would come into when she was of age; of her
+mamma's jewels, in which she was to shine; of the fine family houses;
+and, in short, of everything which could raise her pride; and there was
+not a servant about the house who did not address the little girl as if
+she had not been made of the same flesh and blood as other people."
+
+"Poor little girl!" said Lucy.
+
+"I am sorry for her," remarked Emily; "she must have been quite spoiled
+by all these things."
+
+"We shall see," continued the old lady. "It was in a very curious way
+that I, many years afterwards, learned many particulars of the ways and
+character of this little girl in her very early years, before I was
+personally acquainted with her. After my eldest son was born, being in
+want of a nursemaid, Fanny, the very servant who had waited on Miss
+Evelyn and Mrs. Harris, offered herself; and as I had known her well
+and loved her much, though I had lost sight of her for some years, I
+most gladly engaged her. She told me many things of Mrs. Harris and her
+little lady, which I never could have known otherwise. She said that
+Mrs. Harris was so much puzzled at the ways of the little girl, that
+she used often to speak of it to Fanny.
+
+"'Miss Evelyn,' she said one day, 'is the queerest little thing I ever
+met with; I don't know where her thoughts are. When I am dressing her
+to go down to tea in the saloon, and putting on her nice smart dresses,
+and telling her to look in the glass and see how pretty she is--and to
+be sure she is as pretty as any waxwork--she either does not answer at
+all, as if she did not hear me, or has some out-of-the-way question to
+ask about her lamb, or some bird she has seen, or the clouds, or the
+moon, or some other random stuff; there is no fixing her to any sense.'
+
+"'Perhaps, Mrs. Harris,' Fanny said, 'she has heard your praises, and
+those of other people, till she is tired of them.'
+
+"'Pish!' answered Mrs. Harris; 'did you ever hear of anyone ever being
+tired of their own praises? The more they hear of them the more they
+crave them; but this child has not sense enough to listen to them. Do
+you know what it is for a person to have their wits a wool-gathering?
+Depend on it that Miss Vaughan, with all her riches and all her
+prettiness, is a very dull child; but it is not my business to say as
+much as that to the ladies; they will find it out by-and-by, that is
+sure. But it is a bad look-out for you and me, Fanny, with such chances
+as we have; for if Miss Evelyn was like other young ladies, we might be
+sure to make our fortune by her. I have known several people in my
+condition get such a hold on the hearts of children of high
+condition, like Miss Vaughan, that they never could do without them in
+no way, in their after lives. But I don't see that we get on at all
+with this stupid little thing; though for the life of me I cannot tell
+what the child's head is running upon. She never opens out to me, or
+asks a question, unless it is about some of the dumb animals, or the
+flowers in the garden, and the trees in the wood.'
+
+[Illustration: "_I cannot tell what the child's head is running
+on._"--Page 433.]
+
+"'Or the moon or the clouds,' Fanny added. 'She asked me the other day
+who lived in the moon, and whether dead people went there.'
+
+"It is very clear, from the conversation between Mrs. Harris and Fanny,
+that Evelyn passed for a dull child, and had very little to say,
+because she had not found anyone since she had left The Grove who would
+talk to her in her own way and draw out her young ideas, and encourage
+her to tell her thoughts. Her father had encouraged her to talk to him
+in her own way whilst he was spared to her; and her nurse had been the
+kindest, best of foster-mothers. Though, to be sure, she did speak
+broad Berkshire, and though she was what learned people would call an
+ignorant woman, nurse had the strongest desire to do right, for she had
+been made to feel that God was the friend of His creatures. She felt
+sure that He would help those who behaved well; and she did what she
+could to teach what she knew to her little girl. She told her that she
+must be good, and not proud, or she would never go to the happy world
+where angels are. She told her also, that though her mother was gone
+into another world, she knew and was sorry when she was naughty.
+
+"Nurse was a particularly generous woman, and was always teaching the
+little lady to give things away; and she took great pains to make her
+civil to everybody, whether high or low.
+
+"Nurse had loved to be much out of doors, and Evelyn loved it as much;
+and the two together used to ramble all about the place, into the
+fields and yards where animals were kept, and into the groves and
+gardens to watch the birds and butterflies, and to talk to the
+gardeners and the old women who weeded the walks. Nurse was always
+reminding Evelyn to take something out with her to give away; if it was
+nothing else than a roll or a few lumps of sugar from breakfast; for
+Evelyn's mother, just before her death, had said to her nurse:
+
+"'My child may be very rich, teach her to think of the wants of the
+poor, and to give away.'
+
+"But the more happy Evelyn had been with her nurse, the more sad she
+was with Harris. There was not anything which Harris talked of that the
+little girl cared for, and the consequence was that she passed for
+being very dull; because when Harris was talking of one set of things,
+she was thinking of something very different.
+
+"When Harris wanted her to admire herself in her new frocks, when she
+was dressed to go down to tea, or at any other time, she was wishing to
+have her pinafore on, or that she might run down to her lamb, which fed
+in a square yard covered with grass, where the maids dried the clothes.
+
+"Mr. Vaughan had died somewhat suddenly in the spring; the lamb was
+then only six weeks old. Evelyn came to live with her aunts immediately
+after the funeral; and the summer passed away without anything very
+particular happening.
+
+"It was Harris's plan to indulge Evelyn as much as she possibly could,
+though she did not like the child; and therefore, when she asked to go
+out, which, by her goodwill, would have been every hour of the day, she
+went with her. When she went to take anything to her lamb, and to
+stroke it, or to hang flowers about its neck, Harris stood by her. But
+if Harris did not like Evelyn, she hated her pet still more; she
+pointed out to Evelyn that there were young horns budding on its brow;
+that it was getting big and coarse, and, like other sheep, dirty; and
+said that it would soon be too big for a pretty young lady like Miss
+Vaughan to stroke and kiss.
+
+"'But I _must_ kiss it,' answered Evelyn, 'because I got poor papa once
+to kiss it; and I always kiss it in the very same place, just above its
+eyes, Harris--exactly there.'
+
+"'Just between where the horns are coming, Miss Vaughan,' said Harris;
+'some day, by-and-by, it will knock you down when you are kissing it,
+and perhaps butt you with its horns, till it kills you.'
+
+"That same day Mrs. Harris told Fanny that she would take good care
+that Miss Vaughan's disagreeable pet should be put beyond her reach
+before very long--and, indeed, one fine morning, when Evelyn went down
+to the yard, the lamb was missing. There was much crying on the part of
+the little girl, and much bitter lamentation but her footman, having
+been told what to say by Harris, said to his little lady, that the
+young ram had got tired of the drying-yard, and had gone out into the
+woods to look for fresh grass and running water, and that he was
+somewhere in the park.
+
+"'And is he happy?' asked Evelyn.
+
+"'Very happy,' answered the footman; 'so don't cry about him, Miss.'
+
+"'I will go and see if I can find him,' said the child.
+
+"'You had better not go near him now,' said Mrs. Harris; 'when pet
+lambs become large sheep they often turn most savage on those who were
+most kind to them.'
+
+"'He knew me yesterday,' replied the child, 'and let me stroke him.
+Would he forget me in one day?' and she burst into fresh tears."
+
+"I am sorry for her," said Henry, rubbing the sleeve of his pinafore
+across his eyes.
+
+"And there was one person who heard her," said grandmamma, "who was
+sorry for her also, and that was Fanny; but she did not dare to say
+anything because of Mrs. Harris."
+
+The old lady then went on:
+
+"When the summer was past, and the weather less pleasant, Mrs. Harris
+pretended to have a pain in her face, and instead of going out always
+with Evelyn, she sent Fanny.
+
+"This was a pleasant change for the little lady. She found Fanny much
+more agreeable to her. And Fanny was surprised to find how Evelyn
+opened out to her during their walks.
+
+"For several days Evelyn led Fanny about the groves and over the lawns
+of the park to look for the lamb. They could not find him, but the
+child still fancied that he was somewhere in the park.
+
+"One morning Evelyn proposed that they should try the avenue, and look
+for the lamb in that direction. Fanny had no notion of contradicting
+Evelyn--indeed Harris had told her to keep her in good humour, lest she
+should tell her aunts that Harris seldom walked with her; so that way
+they went. They had scarcely got to one end of the long row of trees
+when they saw a plain-dressed woman coming to meet them from the other.
+Evelyn uttered a joyful cry, and began to run towards her; Fanny ran,
+too, but the little girl quite outstripped her.
+
+"It was nurse who was coming; she had been forbidden the house; but she
+had often come to the lodge, and often walked a part of the way along
+the avenue, if it were only for a chance of seeing her child.
+
+"Nurse was a widow, and had only one child living. He had a good
+situation in the school on the London road, which anyone may see at the
+entrance of the town. So nurse then lived alone, in a small house on
+that road.
+
+"How joyful was the meeting between Evelyn and her nurse! how eagerly
+did the little girl rush into those arms which had been the cradle of
+her happy infancy!
+
+"After the first moments of joy were past, they sat down on a fallen
+and withered bough, between the rows of trees, and talked long and long
+together; so long, that Evelyn was almost too late to be taken to her
+aunts at noon. They talked of many things; and the good nurse forgot
+not to remind Evelyn of what she had taught her by the desire of her
+mother; especially to remember to give; to be civil to all persons; to
+speak when spoken to; to say her prayers; and not to be proud and
+haughty.
+
+"The nurse also took care to tell Evelyn, that when she talked of
+giving, she wanted nothing herself, being in her way quite rich,
+through the goodness of Mr. Vaughan.
+
+"'So don't give _me_ anything, my precious child, but your love.'
+
+"This meeting with nurse served the purpose of keeping alive all the
+simple and best feelings of Evelyn. The little one told her how her
+lamb had left her, and that they had been looking for it that very
+morning.
+
+"'Well, my dear,' said the nurse, 'the poor creature is happier in the
+fields, and with its own kind, than you can make it; and if you are not
+too young to understand me, I would advise you to learn, from this loss
+of your lamb, henceforth not to give your heart and your time to dumb
+creatures, to which you can do little good, but to your own
+fellow-creatures, that you may help. Now, to make what I say plain,
+there is, at this very time, at the lodge, a pretty orphan boy, maybe
+two years of age, who has been taken in for a week or so by Mrs.
+Simpson, at the lodge. She means to keep him till the parish can put
+him somewhere, for she cannot undertake to keep him without more pay
+than the parish will give, having a sick husband, who is a heavy burden
+upon her. Now, if you have--as I know you have--the means, why not help
+her to keep this little boy? Why not get some warm comfortable clothing
+for him, with your aunts' leave, and so help him forward till he wants
+schooling, and then provide for that?'
+
+"'I will do it, nurse; I will do it,' answered Evelyn.
+
+"'God bless you, my lamb!' said nurse.
+
+"And soon after this nurse and Evelyn parted; but they both cried
+bitterly, as Fanny told me.
+
+"The name of the baby at the lodge was Francis Barr; and, as Fanny
+said, he was a most lovely boy, with golden hair curling about his
+sweet face.
+
+"Evelyn had only to mention him to her aunts, and they immediately
+ordered their steward to pay so many shillings a week to Mrs. Simpson,
+and to give another sum for his clothing; and this was, they said, to
+be done in the name of Miss Vaughan.
+
+"They would have done better if they had let Evelyn look a little after
+the clothes, and, indeed, let her help to make them; but such was not
+their way; perhaps they thought Miss Vaughan too grand to help the poor
+with her own hands. But it is always easier for the rich to order money
+to be paid than to work with their own hands.
+
+"Mrs. Harris was told of the meeting with the nurse by Evelyn herself;
+but the little girl did not tell her all that nurse had said, not from
+cunning, but because she was not in the habit of talking to Harris. She
+could not have told why she did not; but we all know that there are
+some people whom we never feel inclined to talk to, and we hardly know
+why.
+
+"Mrs. Harris was, however, jealous of nurse, and thinking to put her
+out of her young lady's head, she used the liberty allowed her, and
+went one day to Reading, and bought a number of toys and gilt books."
+
+"I wonder what they were, grandmamma," said Henry.
+
+"Fanny did not tell me," answered the old lady, "and I had all this
+part of the story from Fanny.
+
+"Evelyn, she said, was pleased with them when they came, and put them
+all in a row on a side-table in her sitting-room, and changed their
+places several times, and opened the books and tried to read them; but
+she was hardly forward enough to make them out with pleasure. However,
+she picked a few out from the rest, and told Fanny to put them in her
+pocket; for her plan was, that Fanny was to read them to her when they
+went out, which was done.
+
+"The day after she had picked out the books, she asked for some paper
+and a pen and ink, and set herself to write, by copying printed
+letters. It was well she was in black, as she inked herself well before
+she had finished her letter.
+
+"Harris did not ask her what she was doing; that was not _her_ way; but
+she looked at what she had written when it was done, and found it was a
+letter to nurse, blotted and scrawled, and hard to be read. When this
+letter was finished, the child asked Fanny for some brown paper, and in
+this she packed most of the toys and the letter, and having sent for
+her footman, she told him to get a horse and ride to nurse's and give
+her the parcel and the letter.
+
+"The man looked at Mrs. Harris, as doubting whether he was to obey.
+Mrs. Harris was sewing, and looked like thunder.
+
+"'Miss Vaughan,' she said, 'did I hear aright? Is that parcel to be
+taken to nurse's?'
+
+"'Yes, Harris,' answered Evelyn; 'those things are mine, and I am going
+to send them to nurse.'
+
+"'Upon my word, Miss Vaughan, you have chosen a very proper present for
+the old woman; she will be vastly amused with all those pretty things.'
+
+"This speech was made in much bitterness, and meant the very contrary
+to what the words expressed; but Evelyn thought she meant what she
+said, and she answered:
+
+"'Yes, Harris, nurse will be so much pleased; I think she will put the
+things in a row on her chimney-piece.'
+
+"Harris, as Fanny told me, did not answer again immediately, but sat
+with her head stooped over her work, whilst Evelyn repeated her
+directions to Richard; and Richard looked for his orders to Mrs.
+Harris.
+
+"'Don't you hear what Miss Vaughan says, Richard?' she at length said,
+as she looked up with very red cheeks and flashing eyes; 'what do you
+stand gaping there for? Don't you know that all Miss Vaughan's orders
+are to be obeyed? Make haste and carry the parcel.'
+
+"'And tell nurse to read my letter,' said Evelyn; 'and to send me word
+if she has read it; she will be so glad, I know.'
+
+"As soon as Richard was gone, Harris called Evelyn to her, and, lifting
+her on her knee, she began to kiss and praise her, and to coax her, but
+not in the old way by telling her of her beauty and her grandeur, but
+by flattering her about her kindness and her gratitude to nurse.
+
+"'I love nurse, Harris,' answered Evelyn.
+
+"'And she deserves it too, Miss Vaughan,' replied Harris; 'she took
+care of you when you could not have told if you were ill-used. Little
+ladies should always remember those who were kind to them in their
+helpless years. Come now, tell me what nurse said to you when you saw
+her last. I am sure she would tell you nothing but what was very good.'
+
+"'She told me,' said Evelyn, 'about my mamma being an angel; and she
+told me that if I was good, and not selfish, and gave things away, that
+I should go to heaven too; I should then, she said, be like a lamb
+living under the care of a good shepherd.'
+
+"Harris, on hearing this, as Fanny said, looked about her in that sort
+of wondering way which people use when they are thoroughly surprised;
+but it being very near twelve at noon, she had no time to carry on the
+discourse further then. Evelyn's frock required to be changed, and her
+hair put in order; and then, as the custom was, Mrs. Harris had to lead
+the child into the saloon to make her curtsey, and leave her till the
+bell rang to recall her.
+
+"When Harris had left the child with her aunts, she came up again to
+her own apartments. She came with her mouth open, being all impatience
+to let out her thoughts to Fanny.
+
+"'Who would have guessed,' said she, 'that the wind blew from that
+quarter, Fanny? and here I have been beating about and about to find
+out the child, and trying to get at her in every way I could think of,
+all the while missing the right one.'
+
+"'What do you mean, Mrs. Harris?' said Fanny.
+
+"'What do I mean?' answered Harris; 'why, how stupid you are, girl!
+have I not been trying to get to the child's heart every day these six
+months, by indulging her, and petting her, and talking to her of her
+pretty face and fine expectations, and all that? and has she not all
+along seemed to care as little for what I said as she would for the
+sound of rustling leaves?'
+
+"'Will you deny that it is very true?' answered Fanny; 'I think she
+has heard of her grandeur and those things, till they are no news to
+her.'
+
+"'Maybe so,' answered Harris; 'but I never yet met with the person,
+young or old, who could be tired out with their own praises, however
+they may pretend.'
+
+"'I was never much tired in that way,' answered Fanny.
+
+"'Maybe not,' said Mrs. Harris; 'what was anyone to get by honeying one
+like you? Well, but to return to this child. I did set her down to be
+none of the sharpest; but for once I think I was mistaken. It is not
+often that I am; but I have got a little light now; I shall get on
+better from this day forward, or I am much mistaken.'
+
+"'What light is it?' said Fanny.
+
+"'Why, don't you see,' answered Harris, 'that young as Miss Evelyn is,
+that old nurse has managed to fill her head with notions about death,
+and heaven, and being charitable, and giving away; and that the child's
+head runs much, for such a child, on these things?'
+
+"'I cannot wonder at it,' answered Fanny, 'when one thinks how much the
+poor orphan has heard and seen of death.'
+
+"'And who has not heard and seen much of death, Fanny?' answered Mrs.
+Harris: 'but for all that we must live and make our way in life.'
+
+"Then, as if she thought that she might just as well refrain from
+opening herself any more to Fanny, she sent her away on some errand,
+and there the discourse ended. But not so the reflections of the young
+servant on what she had said; she had let out enough to make her quite
+understand a very great change, which took place from that day, in the
+behaviour of Harris to Evelyn.
+
+"She never spoke to her again about her beauty and riches; she never
+praised her on these accounts; but she constantly spoke of her
+goodness in giving away, of her civility and courtesy, of her being so
+humble, of the very great merit of these things, and of the certainty
+that these things would make her an angel in glory."
+
+"Oh, the cunning, wicked woman!" cried Henry.
+
+"Was not this sort of flattery more dangerous, grandmamma, than the
+other?" asked Lucy.
+
+But Emily said nothing; for Emily's besetting sin was vanity, and she
+felt that she should have been more hurt by the praises of her beauty
+than of her goodness.
+
+"By this new plan Harris gained more on Evelyn," continued grandmamma,
+"than she had done by the first, and the child, as time went on, became
+more attached to her.
+
+"Two years passed away after this affair of sending the toys to nurse,
+without many changes. Nurse was not allowed to see Evelyn again, though
+the little lady often sent her a note, and some little remembrance to
+nurse's son. Masters came from Reading to carry on Miss Vaughan's
+education; and she proved to be docile and industrious. She still kept
+up her love of being out of doors; and being of a friendly temper, she
+often visited the cottages close about, and took little presents, which
+caused the poor people to flatter her upon her goodness, as much as
+Harris did. She had no pet animal after she had lost her lamb; but she
+became very fond of Francis Barr, and often walked with Fanny to see
+him. He soon learned to know her, and to give her very sweet smiles in
+return for all her kindness; and when he could walk by himself, he
+always hastened to meet her.
+
+"He was nearly six years younger than Evelyn, and was, therefore, not
+much more than four during the summer in which she was ten.
+
+"In the early part of that summer she used to go with Fanny most days
+to the lodge, to teach little Francis his letters, and talk to him
+about God; and they used to hear him say his prayers. Evelyn loved him
+very much, and Harris praised her before every one for her goodness to
+this poor orphan.
+
+"It would have been strange if all this dangerous flattery, together
+with the pleasure the dear child had in bestowing kindnesses, which,
+after all, cost her but little, had not so worked on her mind as to
+make her vain and self-satisfied.
+
+"But her heavenly Father, who had guided her so far, was not going to
+leave her uncared for now. He who had begun the work with her was not
+going to leave it imperfect.
+
+"I am now come nearly to what I may call the end of the first part of
+my story, and to the end of the young, and sunny, and careless days of
+the life of dear Evelyn Vaughan.
+
+"These careless days, these days of young and comparatively thoughtless
+happiness, were suddenly finished in a very sad and awful way.
+
+"I will not enter into many particulars of that affair, because it will
+give you pain. In a few words it was this: Late one evening, in the
+summer, little Francis Barr was playing in the road, when a carriage,
+coming along at a full gallop, the horses having taken fright and
+thrown the postillion, came suddenly upon the poor child, knocked him
+down, and killed him on the spot. There was no time to send the news to
+the great house; and, as it happened, Evelyn and Fanny went the next
+morning, before breakfast, to give the little boy his lesson. When
+arrived at the lodge, they found the door open and no one within. Mrs.
+Simpson had just gone into the garden to fetch more flowers to lay over
+the little boy. Not seeing anyone in the kitchen, they walked into the
+parlour, and there poor Evelyn saw her little loved one cold, yet
+beautiful, in death, having one small hand closed upon a lily, and the
+other on a rose.
+
+"Evelyn could not mistake the aspect of death; she uttered a wild
+shriek, and fell senseless to the floor. She was carried home, but she
+was very ill for many days; and I may truly say never perfectly
+recovered from that time.
+
+"But now, my dear children," added grandmamma, "I begin to feel tired,
+and have only finished half my story; if all is well, we will come here
+to-morrow, and then I shall hope to finish it."
+
+"I wish it was to-morrow," said Henry: and his sisters joined in the
+wish.
+
+[Illustration: "_To hang flowers round its neck._"--Page 445.]
+
+
+
+
+Grandmamma's History of Evelyn Vaughan. Part II.
+
+[Illustration: Miss Anne Vaughan led her niece by the hand]
+
+
+When they were all seated, the next day, in the shade of Henry's
+arbour, grandmamma began her story without more delay.
+
+"I am now," she said, "come to the time when I became acquainted with
+Evelyn Vaughan myself."
+
+"I was left early without parents, my dear children; for my father died
+when I was a baby, and my mother when I was ten years of age. I was
+sent, after her death, being of course in deep mourning, to the school
+kept in the old Abbey at Reading, and there was then a very full
+school, above sixty girls. It was a large old house, added to a gateway
+which was older still; and it was called The Abbey, because it lay
+within the grounds of the ancient monastery, the ruins of which still
+remain, the gateway itself being a part of this very ancient
+establishment."
+
+"The school was kept by certain middle-aged unmarried sisters; and we
+had many teachers, and among these a Miss Latournelle, who taught us
+English after a fashion, and presided over our clothes. I was under
+her care, and slept in her room, which was one of those in the gateway;
+and though she was always scolding me about some untidiness, she was
+very kind to me. She was young then, but always in my eyes looked old,
+having a limping gait, and a very ordinary person.
+
+"I cannot say what we were taught in that house beyond a few French
+phrases and much needlework. I was not there many years, but my
+school-days passed happily, for we were not exhausted with our
+learning, which in these days often destroys the spirit of children. We
+spent much time in the old and pleasant garden; and I had several dear
+friends, all of whom are now dead.
+
+"The first time that I saw Miss Evelyn was on the first Sunday I went
+to church with the school. We went to St. Lawrence's, which is near The
+Abbey, and we sat in the gallery, from which we had a full view of the
+pew then occupied by the Vaughans. They always came there, though not
+the nearest church, because they could not please themselves in seats
+in any other church in the town, and regularly came in their
+coach-and-four, and a grand footman went before them to open the door.
+Their pew was square and lined with crimson, and they always came
+rustling in, and making a knocking sound with their high heels on the
+pavement; they walked according to their ages, with this difference
+only, that the eldest Mistress Vaughan present always brought Evelyn in
+her hand.
+
+"We sat in the gallery just opposite to this pew, and I was in the
+first row; and as there was no teacher nor governess near us, I could
+whisper to the little girls near me about these ladies. 'Don't you
+know,' my next neighbour in the pew answered, 'that those are the
+Mistresses Vaughan, who live in the house beyond the lodges on the
+Bath road; and that little one is Miss Vaughan, and she will have the
+largest fortune of any lady in England--and see how beautifully she is
+dressed?' We could not see her face, as she stood, but we could see her
+fine clothes."
+
+"Do tell us how she was dressed, grandmamma," said Emily.
+
+"She wore a pink silk slip, with small violet flowers, or spots, and a
+laced apron, with a bonnet and tippet of violet silk. Oh, we did admire
+it! If she had not a hoop, her skirts were well stiffened with
+whalebone."
+
+"How curious!" said Lucy. "She must have looked like a little old
+woman."
+
+"The delicate fairness of her neck, and her lovely auburn curls,
+prevented that mistake, Lucy," replied grandmamma; "and then her way of
+moving, and her easy, child-like manner, showed her youth, if nothing
+else would have done so.
+
+"I had heard of Miss Evelyn before, but I had never seen her so near;
+and all the rest of that day I could think and talk of nothing but Miss
+Vaughan; and how I did long for a pink slip with violet spots.
+
+"The Sunday on which I saw Miss Vaughan for the first time at church
+was the first day of that week in which little Francis Barr was killed.
+
+"We did not see her again for many weeks. We were told of the sad
+accident, and of the severe illness of Evelyn which followed; and we
+all entered into the feelings of the little lady with much warmth.
+
+"It was late in the autumn when she appeared again at church; but,
+though we did not see her face, we could observe that she sat very
+still, and seemed once, whilst the psalm was being sung, to be crying,
+for she stooped her head, and had her handkerchief to her eyes. We were
+very sorry again for her, but our French teacher, when we came home,
+said, 'Let her weep; she will console herself presently.'
+
+"It was, maybe, ten days after we had seen Miss Evelyn the second time
+at church, as some of us were sitting, on the eve of a half-holiday, on
+a locker in a window of the old gateway, that we saw the
+coach-and-four, with the Vaughan liveries, wheeling along the green
+open space before The Abbey gate; half a dozen of us at least were
+standing the next minute on the locker to see this wonder better.
+
+"Nearer and nearer came the carriage, with the horses' heads as if they
+were a-going through the arch; and when we were expecting to hear the
+rolling of the wheels beneath our feet, the carriage suddenly stopped
+right in front of the garden-gate.
+
+"Next came loud knockings and ringings without, and the running of many
+feet within the house, one calling to another, to tell that the
+Mistresses Vaughan were come, and had asked to see our governess.
+
+"We strained our necks to see, if we could, the ladies get out, but we
+were too directly above them to get a good view; and if we could, we
+were not allowed, for our French teacher came up, and made us all get
+down from the locker, shutting the window which we had opened, and
+saying a great deal about 'politesse' and the great vulgarity of
+peeping.
+
+"The house was as still as the mice in the old wainscot when they smelt
+Miss Latournelle's cat, whilst the ladies were in the parlour, for our
+teachers insisted on our being quiet; but as soon as we saw the coach
+bowling away, we all began to chatter, and to speak our thoughts
+concerning the occasion of this visit, which was considered a very
+great honour by our governesses."
+
+"Did the Mistresses Vaughan come to speak about putting Evelyn to your
+school, grandmamma?" asked Emily.
+
+"Not exactly so, my dear," replied the old lady; "I will tell you what
+they came for. Poor Evelyn had never recovered her quiet, happy spirits
+since the fright and the shock of her little favourite's death. Her
+mother had had a very delicate constitution, and had died early of
+consumption. Perhaps Evelyn had inherited the tendency to consumption
+from her mother, though neither her aunts nor Mrs. Harris had thought
+her otherwise than a strong child till after her long illness.
+
+"After she recovered from this illness, however--or rather seemed to be
+recovered--her spirits were quite gone; and she was always crying,
+often talking of death and dying, and brooding over sad things. When
+the family physician who attended her was told how it was, he advised
+that she should go to school, and mix with other children, and he
+recommended The Abbey.
+
+"The Mistresses Vaughan thought his advice good, so far as that Evelyn
+might be the better for the company of other children. But they said
+that no Miss Vaughan had ever been brought up at a school, for there
+were sure to be some girls of low birth, and that they could not think
+of their niece being herded with low people.
+
+"After a long discussion, however, the old ladies yielded so far to the
+opinion of the physician, that they determined to ask our governess to
+permit Miss Vaughan to come to them every dancing day, and to join in
+the dancing with the other girls.
+
+"It was to ask this favour that the four old ladies came to the Abbey;
+and it was then settled that Miss Vaughan was to come on every Friday
+evening to dance with us, and to take her tea in the parlour with the
+mistress.
+
+"This high honour was made known through the house immediately after
+the ladies were gone. Miss Evelyn was to be brought the first time by
+her aunts, and afterwards by Mrs. Harris; and she was to come the very
+next Friday.
+
+"From that day, which was Wednesday, until the Friday afternoon, what a
+bustle were all in; what trimming, and plaiting, and renewing, and
+making anew, went forward! I was in deep mourning; and as Miss
+Latournelle kept my best bombazine, and crapes, and my round black cap,
+in her own press, I had nothing to think of; but our governess insisted
+that all the other young ladies should have new caps on the occasion;
+and as these were to be made in the house, there was enough to do.
+
+"I could smile to think of the caps we wore at that time; our common
+caps fitted the head exactly, and were precisely in the shape of bowls.
+They were commonly made of what is called Norwich quilt, such as we now
+see many bed-quilts made of, with a little narrow plaiting round the
+edge. My common black caps were made of silk quilted in the same way.
+Our best caps were of the same form: the foundation being of coloured
+silk or satin, with gauze puffed over it, and in each puff either a
+flower or a bit of ribbon, finished off to the fancy, with a plaited
+border of gauze, and larger bunches of flowers peaked over each ear."
+
+"Oh, grandmamma!" cried Emily, "how strange! Did not the children look
+very odd then?"
+
+"The eye was used to the fashion," said the old lady; "there is no
+fashion, however monstrous, to which the eye does not become used in a
+little while.
+
+"By the time that all the caps were made, and all the artificial roses,
+and lilacs, and pansies duly disposed, it was time to dress. You have
+never been at school, or you would know what a bustle there is to get
+all the little misses ready on a dancing day.
+
+[Illustration: "_What a bustle there is to get ready on a dancing
+day._"--Page 453.]
+
+"It was time to light the candles long before Miss Latournelle
+mustered us and led us down into the dancing-room. This was a long, low
+room, having a parlour at one end of it, and at the other a kind of
+hall, from which sprang a wide staircase, leading to the rooms over the
+gateway; the balustrades of the staircase still showed some remains of
+gilding.
+
+"We were ranged on forms raised one above another, at the lowest end of
+the room, and our master was strutting about the floor, now and then
+giving us a flourish on his kit, when our youngest governess put her
+head in at the door, and said:
+
+"'Ladies, are you all ready? You must rise and curtsey low when the
+company appears, and then sink quietly into your places.'
+
+"She then retreated; and a minute afterwards the door from the parlour
+was opened, and our eldest governess appeared ushering in the four
+Mistresses Vaughan, followed by other visitors invited for this grand
+occasion. There was awful knocking of heels and rustling of long silk
+trains; and every person looked solemn and very upright.
+
+"Miss Anne Vaughan, who came in first, led her niece in her hand, and
+went sweeping round with her to the principal chair, for there was a
+circle of chairs set for the company. When she had placed the little
+lady at her right hand, and when the rest of the company were seated,
+we on the forms had full leisure to look at this much envied object.
+There was not one amongst us who would not have gladly changed places
+with the little lady.
+
+"Evelyn Vaughan was an uncommonly beautiful girl; she was then nearly
+eleven years of age, and was taller than most children of her age, for
+she had shot up rapidly during her illness. Her complexion was too
+beautiful, too white, and too transparent; but she wanted not a soft
+pink bloom in her cheeks, and her lips were of a deep coral. She had
+an oval face and lovely features; her eyes were bright, though
+particularly soft and mild; her hair of rich auburn, hanging in bright,
+natural ringlets; whilst even her stiff dress and formal cap could not
+spoil the grace and ease of her air.
+
+"Indeed, persons always accustomed to be highly dressed are not so put
+out of their way by it as those who are only thus dressed on high
+occasions; and dressed she was in a rich silk, with much lace, with a
+chain of gold and stud of jewels, silken shoes, and artificial flowers.
+We on the forms thought that we had never seen anything so grand in our
+whole lives, nor any person so pretty, nor any creature so to be
+envied.
+
+"The ladies only stayed to see a few of our best dancers show forth in
+minuets before tea, and then they withdrew: and as the dancing-master,
+who had always taught Miss Vaughan, was invited to join the tea-party,
+we went into the schoolroom to our suppers, and to talk over what we
+had seen. After a little while, we all returned to the dancing-room to
+be ready for the company, who soon appeared again.
+
+"We were then called up, and arranged to dance cotillons, and whilst we
+were standing waiting for the order to take our places, we saw our
+master go bowing up to Evelyn, to ask her to join our party. I saw her
+smile then for the first time, and I never had seen a sweeter smile; it
+seemed to light up her whole face. She consented to dance, and being
+asked if she would like any particular partner, she instantly answered:
+
+"'That young lady in black, sir, if you please.'
+
+"There was but one in black, and that was myself. The next moment I was
+called, and told that Miss Vaughan had done me the honour to choose me
+for a partner; and it was whispered in my ear by my governess, when
+she led me up, that I must not forget my manners, and by no means take
+any liberty with Miss Vaughan. This admonition served only to make me
+more awkward than I might have been if it had not been given to me.
+
+"Evelyn had chosen me because she had heard it said in the parlour that
+the little girl in black was in mourning for the last of her parents.
+And I had not begun the second cotillon with her before she told me
+that she had chosen me for a partner because, like herself, I had no
+father or mother.
+
+"After this I was shy no longer; I talked to her about my mother, and
+burst into tears when so doing, for my sorrows were fresh.
+
+"Evelyn soon made herself acquainted with my name--Mary Reynolds--and
+we found out that we had been born the same year; and she said that it
+was very odd that she should have chosen a partner who was of her own
+age.
+
+"I remember no more of that evening; but the next Friday Miss Vaughan
+came again, accompanied by Mrs. Harris.
+
+"Harris played the great lady quite as well as the Mistresses Vaughan
+had done, acting in their natural characters; as she always, at home,
+took her meals with her young lady when in their own rooms, she was
+invited to tea in the parlour; and to please Evelyn, I was also asked,
+for I had been again chosen as her partner.
+
+"Our friendship was growing quickly; it was impossible to love Miss
+Vaughan a little, if one loved her at all. She was the sweetest,
+humblest child I had ever known; and she talked of things which,
+although I did not understand them, greatly excited my interest.
+
+"It was in October that Evelyn first came to dance at the Abbey, and
+she came every Friday till the holidays. We thought she looked very
+unwell the last time she came; and she said she was sorry that some
+weeks would pass before she saw me again; she repeated the same to Mrs.
+Harris.
+
+"All the other children went home for Christmas, but I had no home to
+go to; and I saw them depart with much sorrow, and was crying to find
+myself alone, having watched the last of my school-fellows going out
+with her mother through the garden-gate, when Miss Latournelle came up
+all in a hurry.
+
+"'Miss Reynolds,' she said, 'what do you think? You were born, surely,
+with a silver spoon in your mouth. But there is a letter come, and you
+are to go from church on Christmas Day in the coach to spend the
+holidays with Miss Vaughan. It is all settled; and you are to have a
+new slip, and crape tucker and apron, and a best black cap. Come, come,
+we must look up your things, and we have only two days for it; come
+away, fetch your thimble; and don't let me see any idleness.'
+
+"The kind teacher was as pleased for me as I was for myself; though she
+drove me about the next two days, as if I had been her slave.
+
+"When I found myself in the coach, on Christmas Day, all alone, and
+driving away with four horses to the great house at the end of the
+avenue, I really did not know what to make of myself. I tried all the
+four corners of the coach, looked out at every window, nodded to one or
+two schoolfellows I saw walking in the streets, and made myself as
+silly as the daw in borrowed feathers."
+
+The children laughed, and the old lady went on:
+
+"When I got to the lodge and the avenue, however, I became more
+thoughtful and steady. Even in that short drive, the idea of riding in
+a coach-and-four was losing some of its freshness, and deeper thoughts
+had come. I was a little put out, too, at the sight of the fine
+man-servant who opened the doors for me and led me upstairs. The
+moment I entered Miss Evelyn's sitting-room, she ran up to me, and put
+her arms around my neck, kissing me several times.
+
+"'Dear, dear Mary,' she said, 'how very glad I am to see you! I shall
+be so happy! I have got a cough; I am not to go out till warm weather
+comes; and it is so sad to be shut up and see nothing but the trees
+waving, and hear nothing but the wind whistling and humming. But now
+you are come I shall be so happy!'
+
+"'I hope you will, Miss Vaughan,' said Mrs. Harris; 'and that your head
+will not always be running, as it has been lately, upon all manner of
+dismal things. Miss Reynolds, you must do your best to amuse Miss
+Evelyn; you must tell her all the news of the school, and the little
+misses; I dare say you can tell her many pretty stories.'
+
+"Evelyn did not answer Harris, though she gave her a look with more
+scorn in it than I had ever seen her give before.
+
+"Miss Vaughan had shown symptoms of great weakness in the chest--that
+is, Henry, in the part where people breathe. She had been directed by
+the physician to be kept, for some weeks to come, in her own rooms; and
+when this order was given, she had begged to have me with her.
+
+"I believe that I was a comfort to her, and a relief to Harris; and
+Fanny, also, rejoiced to see me. I was with Evelyn several weeks, and
+the days passed pleasantly. I had every indulgence, and the use of all
+sorts of toys; dolls I had partly put aside; but there were books, and
+pictures, and puzzles; and when I went back to school I was loaded with
+them; not only for myself, but for my schoolfellows.
+
+"Evelyn seemed to be pleased to see me delighted with them, but she had
+no pleasure in them herself, any more than I have now; and once, when
+Harris said: 'Come, Miss Vaughan, why can't you play with these things
+as Miss Reynolds does?' she answered: 'Ah, Harris! what have I to do
+with these? I know what is coming.'
+
+"'What is it?' I inquired.
+
+"'Don't ask her, Miss Reynolds,' said Harris hastily; 'Miss Vaughan
+knows that she should not talk of these things.'
+
+"'Oh, let me talk of them, and then I shall be more easy!' Evelyn
+answered. 'It is because I must not that I am so unhappy. Why have you
+put away my Bible and the other good books?'
+
+"'Because your aunts and the doctors say you read them till you have
+made yourself quite melancholy, Miss Vaughan; and so they have been
+taken away, but not by me. I have not got them. You must not blame me
+for what others have done; you know my foolish fondness, and that I can
+deny you nothing in my power to grant.'
+
+"We had two or three conversations of this kind; but Harris watched us
+so closely, that Miss Vaughan never had an opportunity of talking to me
+by ourselves; so that we never renewed, during those holidays, the
+subjects we had sometimes talked of at the Abbey.
+
+"I stayed at that time about six weeks with Miss Vaughan; and as she
+appeared to be much better and more cheerful, I was sent back to
+school, with a promise from my governesses that, if Miss Vaughan
+desired it, I was to go to her again at the shortest notice.
+
+"The spring that year was early, and some of the days in March were so
+fine, that the Mistresses Vaughan presumed to take their niece out in
+the coach without medical advice. Deeply and long did the old ladies
+lament their imprudence; but probably this affliction was the first
+which ever really caused them to feel.
+
+"About six days after the last of these airings, the coach came to the
+school, bringing a request that I should be sent back in it instantly.
+
+"Miss Vaughan had been seized with a violent inflammation in the chest,
+attended with dreadful spasms. She had called for poor dear Mary, as if
+Mary could help her; and I was told that she was in a dying state. I
+sobbed and cried the whole way, for where were the delights then to me
+of a coach-and-four? I was taken immediately up to her bedroom, for she
+had called again for poor dear Mary. But, oh, how shocked was I when I
+approached the bed! Fanny was sitting at the pillow, holding her up in
+her arms: she was as pale as death itself; her eyes were closed, her
+fair hands lay extended on the counterpane, her auburn ringlets hanging
+in disorder. She was enjoying a short slumber after the fatigue of
+acute pain, for she then breathed easily. Near the bed stood Harris,
+with the look of a person at once distressed and offended. Miss Vaughan
+had preferred, in her anguish, to be held by Fanny rather than by her.
+She had often suspected Evelyn of not liking her, and the truth had
+come out that morning during her sufferings.
+
+"In the next room I could see the figures of the four Mistresses
+Vaughan, all in their morning dresses. The physician was with them; and
+when he saw me he arose, and came and stood by the bed.
+
+"I know not how long it was before Evelyn opened her eyes.
+
+"'Thank God,' she said, in a low, weak voice, 'it is gone for this
+time;' then added, as she saw me, 'Mary, Mary dear, don't go again.
+Fanny, is it you? but you will be tired. Might not nurse come, poor
+dear nurse?'
+
+The physician asked Harris what the young lady said. Harris pretended
+not to have heard. Fanny looked to me to speak, and I said:
+
+"'She wants her nurse, sir, her own nurse.'
+
+"'And where does this nurse live?' he inquired.
+
+"I told him, on the London road; I told him also her name. I spoke out
+boldly, though I felt the eyes of Harris upon me.
+
+"'I know the woman,' the doctor answered: 'she is a worthy person; she
+_must_ be sent for.'
+
+"When Harris heard this she left the bedside and went to the ladies, to
+prevent, if possible, this sending for nurse. The reason she gave for
+its not being right to have the poor woman brought there was, that she
+was the first to put melancholy thoughts in the head of Miss Evelyn,
+and would be quite sure to bring the same things forward again. Mrs.
+Harris would have got her own way, if the physician had not insisted
+that Evelyn ought to see her nurse if she desired it; and he himself
+undertook to send for her. He had not far to send. Nurse had heard of
+her child's violent attack, and was no further off than the lodge.
+
+"From the time that Evelyn had mentioned her nurse, she had lain quite
+still, with her eyes closed, till the worthy woman came in. At the
+sound of the soft step with which the nurse came forward, she opened
+them and saw the person she loved best on earth. A sweet bright glow
+arose in her cheeks, and she extended both her arms as if she would
+have risen to meet her.
+
+"Though poor nurse, at the first glance, had seen death in the sweet
+features of her child, yet she commanded herself.
+
+"'I am come, my love,' she said; 'and rejoice to find you easy.'
+
+"'Yes, it is gone--the pain is gone,' replied Evelyn: 'when it comes
+again I shall die. I know it, nurse; but come, and never go away. Take
+poor Fanny's place, and lay my head there--there,' she added.
+
+"'On my bosom,' said the nurse, 'where you used so often to sleep;' and
+she placed herself on the bed and raised her child so that she rested
+on her arm.
+
+"At this moment Harris, whose eyes were flashing with every evil
+passion, brought a vial containing a draught which had been ordered.
+
+"Evelyn took it without a word, and then, laying her sweet head on
+nurse's bosom, fell into a long deep sleep--long, for it lasted some
+hours, and during that time only nurse and I were with her; nurse
+holding her in her arms, and I seated at the foot of the bed.
+
+"I had many thoughts during these hours of stillness--thoughts more
+deep than I had ever had before, on the vanity of earthly things and
+the nature of death.
+
+"The sun was descending behind the groves when Evelyn stirred, and
+began to speak. I arose to my feet; she still lay with one side of her
+face upon the nurse's bosom--that side, when she stirred her head a
+little, was warm and flushed; the other cheek was pale and wan.
+
+"'Nurse, nurse,' were the words she uttered.
+
+"'I am here, my child,' was the good woman's answer.
+
+"'You will not go,' said Evelyn; 'and Mary must not go, and Fanny must
+not go.'
+
+"The nurse raised her a little, still supporting her, whilst she asked
+me to ring the bell, and gave notice that Miss Evelyn was awake and was
+to have some nourishment which had been ordered.
+
+"Harris came in with something on a salver, Evelyn received it in
+silence, but did not forget to thank Harris, though even whilst taking
+it she whispered, 'Don't go, nurse.' Mrs. Harris heard the whisper, as
+I could see by the manner in which she went out of the room.
+
+"I was called away just then, to take some refreshment, and for this
+purpose I was taken to the room of Mistress Catherine. She was there,
+and had been crying bitterly; she spoke kindly to me, and said she
+hoped that the sight of me would be a comfort to Miss Vaughan; but she
+seemed to be unable to talk much.
+
+"When I returned to Evelyn's room, I found that she had fallen again
+into a doze, and it was thought best for me to go to bed. I slept, by
+my own desire, with Fanny; but Fanny left me about midnight, to take
+her turn in attending the little lady.
+
+"She died at last somewhat suddenly, and very peacefully, like one
+falling asleep. The last word which she was heard to utter distinctly
+was the name of her Saviour.
+
+"I was present when she died, and went with her aunts to the funeral,
+where I cried till I was quite ill.
+
+"A few days before her death, she had asked to be left with her Aunt
+Catherine, and got her to write down several things which she wished to
+be done after her death. It was found, when the paper written by
+Mistress Catherine was read, that she had remembered everyone, and
+desired that Harris, and Fanny, and nurse's son, should all have
+something very handsome. All her toys and gayest dresses, and many
+ornaments and books, were to be given to me: and the poor whom she had
+loved and visited were all remembered.
+
+"That death was the cutting up of all the worldly prospects of the old
+ladies, for Evelyn was the last of that branch of the family. At the
+death of the youngest Mistress Vaughan, who lived to a very great age,
+the estates went into other hands, and The Grove was sold, and
+purchased by a gentleman whose son parted with it to your uncle. The
+very name of Vaughan is now nearly forgotten in that part of the world,
+excepting it may be by a few very old persons like myself."
+
+
+
+
+Farewell to the Old Home
+
+[Illustration: Henry reminded her of the robin]
+
+
+Michaelmas was the time fixed for their all moving to The Grove, and
+leaving that sweet place which was the only one the children had
+learned to love. Mrs. Fairchild had let August pass without saying much
+to her children about the moving, though she and Mr. Fairchild had been
+busy with many settlements.
+
+Mr. Fairchild had been at The Grove again, and come back again. He had
+settled that John was to have a part of the large garden under his
+care, and that no one was to meddle with him; and that he was to take
+charge of the old horse and carriage, and to go out with the children
+when they went abroad in it. Henry was to have leave to go to John,
+when he wished to work in the garden.
+
+Mrs. Fairchild fixed on Betty to wait upon the children; she knew that
+they must have a maid, and she soon settled who that maid should be.
+
+"I know Betty," she said; "and I know I may trust her with my
+children."
+
+Miss Tilney was very angry when she heard of this.
+
+"Well, to be sure," she said, "so Betty is turned into a young lady's
+governess; who could have thought it? How very ridiculous some people
+are!"
+
+When September came, Mrs. Fairchild reminded her children how near the
+time was come, and that they must think of preparing to move. When Lucy
+and Emily heard this, which they did one morning at breakfast, they
+could not help shedding a few tears.
+
+Their mother sent them out into the fresh air, saying she would have no
+lessons that morning, but giving no particular reason. The little girls
+were glad to be left to themselves, and they put on their bonnets and
+walked out, taking their way to the hut in the wood.
+
+It may be supposed what they talked of; they talked of the change that
+was coming, and the time which was gone. They made each other cry more
+by trying to remember things which had happened in every place they
+passed through. They went as far back as the time when Mr. Fairchild
+used to carry Henry in his arms when they went out, and only now and
+then set him down to walk. They had a story belonging to almost every
+tree, to the brook and the bridge, to each little path, and many for
+the hut at the end of their walk.
+
+In this hut they sat down and began to ask each other what neither
+could answer, whether it was likely they should ever come back to that
+dear place.
+
+"It is papa's, we know," said Lucy; "but then he will let the house,
+and we don't know who will have it; people always let houses which they
+don't live in. He said, one day, that he should let it. But," said
+Lucy, with a deep sigh, "I do not think we ought to cry so much; if
+grandmamma sees our eyes red, and asks the reason, we shall be obliged
+to tell her, and then she will think we do not like going with her."
+
+"Henry does not mind going," said Emily; "he likes it now John is to
+go."
+
+They were talking in this way, and had not yet succeeded in quite
+stopping themselves from crying, when they thought they heard a voice
+from the wood on the other side of the brook. They listened again, and
+plainly heard these words: "Lucy! Emily! where are you?"
+
+They came out to the mouth of the hut, and listened, but could not hear
+the voice again. Then there came the sound of steps, and they were
+frightened and ran back into the hut. The steps were heard more plainly
+as they pattered over the bridge, and, not a minute afterwards, who
+should appear before the hut but Bessy Goodriche! She was quite out of
+breath and all in a glow with running; her hair all in disorder, and
+her bonnet at the very back of her head. She could not speak for a
+moment, but her face was bright with joy. Lucy and Emily ran to her and
+kissed her, and said how she had frightened them.
+
+"Poor little things!" she answered: "you would not do to be lost in a
+wood on a dark night. But I am come to tell you it is all settled,
+though, to be sure, you know it already; I am so glad and my aunt is so
+glad. No more chimneys to come down and clatter over our heads;--and
+then, you know, you can come whenever you like, the oftener the more
+welcome, and stay as long as you like, the longer the better. Aunt will
+have such pleasure in taking care of your poor old women--the
+pin-cushion and the housewife woman, I mean. But I am much afraid that
+I shall not make up your loss, good little things as you are, I shall
+never manage it; but I must try. I hope I have got the goodwill, though
+I have nothing else."
+
+In this place Bessy stopped for actual want of breath.
+
+"What is it?" said Lucy; "what do you mean, dear Bessy?"
+
+"What is it? don't you know? How strange--no, it is not, neither; Mr.
+Fairchild said he should not tell you till it was settled; and so there
+can be no harm in telling it. And are you not delighted?--you don't
+look delighted. Your papa said that there could be nothing which would
+please you so much."
+
+"But what is it?" asked the little girls; "how can we be delighted,
+when we do not know what it is?"
+
+"Have not I told you?" asked Bessy; "I thought I told you at first.
+Why, we are to live in this place, and take care of it, and see that
+everything is kept in order; every tree, and every bench, and
+everything you love. How you stare!" added Bessy; "how round your eyes
+are! I don't mean this hut; did you think I meant that my aunt and I
+were to live in it, and take care of the benches?"
+
+"The house, the house?" answered Lucy, with a cry of joy; "are you and
+Mrs. Goodriche to have the house and the garden; and to take care of
+the poor people, and the school, and the hut, and the arbour, and the
+benches, and our little room, and the parlour, and the roses? Oh,
+Bessy, Bessy, dear Bessy, now am I glad indeed! and we will come to you
+here, and you shall come to us there. Oh, Emily, Emily, I am so happy!"
+
+The gentle eyes of Emily sparkled as brightly as Lucy's did, when she
+heard this news, though she said little; but she whispered to her
+sister, the next minute: "Now, Lucy, we should not have cried so much,
+it was not right."
+
+Lucy answered aloud: "No, Emily, we should not; but I hope that we
+shall cry no more. If the whole world had been picked, we could not
+have found any people we like so well to live here as Mrs. Goodriche
+and Bessy."
+
+"Aunt is at the house, she is come to spend the day here; and Mr.
+Fairchild sent me here to look for you; and we shall come in when you
+go out; and things are to be left as they are now, only a few to be
+moved. Aunt will sell her rubbish furniture, and we are to be so tidy,
+and I am to have your little room and bed."
+
+"And you will feed our poor robin," said Emily; "he has come every
+winter for a great many years, and he knows that window; but you must
+shut it after you have put out the crumbs, for fear of the cat. He
+knows us, and he will soon know you."
+
+As the three girls walked back to the house, they were quite busy in
+telling and hearing what things were to be attended to. Lucy and Emily
+felt like people who have had a tight cord bound over their hearts, and
+that cord had been suddenly cut, and they were loose.
+
+The three weeks which followed that day were a time of great bustle. On
+one evening all the children of the school came and had tea in the
+field behind the barn; and Mrs. Goodriche and Bessy came, that they
+might get acquainted with them.
+
+Another day all the old people whom the children loved were invited to
+dinner; and Mrs. Goodriche came also to make their acquaintance. No one
+went away without some useful gift; but these meetings and partings
+were sad, and made some wish they were in that blessed state in which
+there shall be no more sorrow, nor any more tears.
+
+Mary Bush, and nurse, and Margery, however, said that if Mr. and Mrs.
+Fairchild must go, they could not have chosen anyone they should have
+liked so well as Mrs. Goodriche.
+
+All this bustle caused the few last days in the home of their childhood
+to pass more easily with the little girls; but when they rose for the
+last time, from that bed in which they had slept so long as they could
+remember, they both felt a sadness which they could not overcome.
+
+The breakfast was to be at an early hour, but, early as it was, Mrs.
+Goodriche and Bessy had come before it was ready. They were to return
+again to their old house for a day or two, but they wished to see the
+last of their dear friends before their departure. Mr. Somers also came
+in immediately after breakfast.
+
+The coach from The Grove also arrived at the same time with Mr. Somers,
+for the horses and coachman had rested during the night in the village.
+Old Mrs. Fairchild always liked to be driven by the man she knew, and
+drawn by the horses she had often proved; and they were to travel
+slowly, and be three days on the road. Henry came flying in when the
+coach arrived; and Lucy and Emily ran up once more to their little room
+to cry again. Bessy followed them to comfort them, though she herself
+was very sad.
+
+John Trueman, who was at the house with his wife to take care of it
+till Mrs. Goodriche took possession, now brought out the old horse and
+carriage, in which John and Betty were to travel; and there was a great
+deal of packing and settling before anybody got in, for there were nine
+persons to go. The two Mrs. Fairchilds, and the two little girls, went
+inside the coach; Mr. Fairchild sat with Henry in an open seat in the
+back; and Mrs. Johnson was to go with Betty, John, and the magpie, in
+the old carriage. It was large and of the old fashion. When the old
+lady had taken her place, Lucy and Emily were called: they kissed Bessy
+again, and Henry reminded her of the robin. Then they ran down and
+kissed Mrs. Goodriche, and without looking round at any dear tree or
+window, or garden-seat or plot of flowers, they sprang into the coach,
+and felt for the first time that riding in their father's carriage was
+no cure for an aching heart. Their hearts ached, and their eyes
+continued to flow with tears, till they had passed the village and left
+it at some distance behind them; but as they were dragged slowly up
+the steep hill, beyond the village, they took courage and looked out,
+and could just see a number of persons standing beneath the beech-trees
+on the top of the round hill. Someone was waving something white, and
+Henry was answering it by waving his handkerchief. Tears soon blinded
+the eyes of the little girls, and they drew back again into the coach,
+and did not look out again till they had got beyond the places which
+they had been well acquainted with in the young happy days which were
+now shut up in the past.
+
+When we leave a place which we have long lived in and much loved, how
+very soon do all the things which have passed begin to seem like dreams
+and visions; and how will this life, with all its pains and pleasures,
+troubles and distresses, seem to us when death is swallowed up in
+victory, and we shall be with the Saviour where sorrow never more can
+come?
+
+[Illustration: "_Someone was waving something white._"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Wells Gardner, Darton and Co., 3, Paternoster Buildings, London_
+
+[Illustration: The Fairchild Family]
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+
+Inconsistent hyphenation of words such as band-box, play-ground,
+school-room, maid-servant, farm-house, bed-time, play-room, post-boy,
+school-fellow, corn-field, store-room, tea-cup, and work-bag has been
+retained. For the text version's cover and title pages, I have added
+periods to initials and to "Mrs." Minor typographical corrections are
+documented in the source of the associated HTML version.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Fairchild Family, by Mary Martha Sherwood
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRCHILD FAMILY ***
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