Esther's Charge: A Story for Girls

"Well, but if there aren't any dragons left, we have to do it the other way," cried Pickle eagerly. "Now, let's think about it. We'll all think. At least I don't think Esther needs. I don't think she's got any sins."

"O Pickle, don't say that!"

"Well, I don't think you have. You're always good. Look at the marks you get; and the Owl has never had to scold you once. I don't believe you could think of any sin that besets you."

"Yes, indeed I can," answered Esther – "ever so many. I've got one in my head this very minute."

"What's that? Do tell."

Esther's face grew red, but she answered bravely, —

"Yes, I'll tell you if you like, because, perhaps, if I tell, I shall be able to fight it better. I'm often so frightened about things nobody else is."

The children eyed her wonderingly.

"But I don't call that a sin," cried Pickle. "You can't help being frightened – you're a girl."

"Yes, but I don't think girls ought to be cowards," answered Esther, her face still flushed. "I want to learn to be brave. I think being afraid when there isn't any reason is a sort of sin." She paused and hesitated, and then added in a lower voice, "I think we ought to remember that God can always take care of us, and then we need not be afraid any more."

The children were silent for a few minutes. Something in Esther's manner impressed them, they hardly knew why. They felt that she was speaking to them out of the depths of her heart, and that she meant every word she said.

"Do you ever think about God?" asked Pickle at last.

"Yes," answered Esther in a low voice, "but not as often as I ought to. I shouldn't be so frightened often, if I thought about Him more."

"Why? What difference would it make?"

"Oh, don't you see? Suppose you were frightened by something, and felt all alone, with nobody to help you. And then suppose you remembered that your father was looking at you all the time through a window somewhere with a glass, and that he saw you though you didn't see him. And if you knew that he could send somebody to help you if you wanted it really, why, you wouldn't be afraid any more, would you?"

"No, I suppose not. It would be silly."

"I think, perhaps, it is silly; and what is silly can be a sin, I think," said Esther steadily. "I want not to be frightened so often, and I think that is the sin that most easily besets me. I am going to try and fight against it, because it makes me forget about God always seeing us and taking care of us, and that is wrong, I know."

"I wonder what my sin is!" cried Pickle. "I expect I've got a lot. Esther, do you think it's a sin to call people by nicknames? Old – I mean Uncle Robert makes a great fuss about it."

"I – I don't think it's perhaps the names exactly," said Esther, with a little hesitation – "at least not amongst ourselves. But to older people it doesn't seem quite respectful, and children ought to treat older people with respect. I think it says so in the Bible somewhere. I'm sure it means it often. You know that even Jesus was obedient, and 'subject to' Joseph and Mary, though He was God's Son all the time."

"We don't mean any harm," said Puck. "Crump used only to laugh, and call us cheeky little beggars."

"Well," said Esther, with a little gentle decision in her tone, "I don't think it sounds at all nice for little boys to speak of their father as Crump."

"Don't you, really? Do you mean you would call it a sin?"

"I don't know whether I am old enough to judge about that," answered Esther, "but it doesn't seem to me like honoring our fathers and mothers to speak of them like that, and that would be disobeying one of the commandments."

"Well, I never thought of it like that," said Pickle, in the tone of one open to conviction; "but I don't mind giving that up, if it is a sort of a sin. I did sometimes think that when people were there Cr – I mean father – didn't always quite like it. But I'm sure we must have lots of sins besides that. That's only quite a little one."

"I'm greedy; that's my sin," said Bertie. "I always want the biggest egg or the nicest cake. I don't always get them, but I want them. I shall have to fight against that."

"I don't like getting up in the morning," said Milly; "and I get cross with Prissy often; and I hate my sums, and scribble on my slate instead of doing them. I think I'm lazy, for I'm always so glad when we can't do lessons, or visitors come when I'm practising. And sometimes I don't practise all my time, but run out into the garden for a little while, if nobody is about, and pretend I've been at the piano all the time. I don't mean I say so, because nobody asks me; but I pretend it to myself, and I suppose that's a sort of lie."

"I sometimes tell stories," said Puck. "I say I've done things and seen them, and I haven't really – at least not just as I say them. I like to pretend things are bigger than they are, and that we're braver, and stronger, and cleverer."

"And I like to do just as I like," said Pickle, remembering how the conversation had begun. "I don't like Mr. Earle when he interferes, and makes us do things his way; and I get in a rage sometimes because he sees through us and stops the things we want to do. I think I've got a lot of sins – more than any of the rest of you. I'm the eldest, and so I suppose I should have. At least Esther's older; but then she's good. I don't call it a sin to be afraid. Girls and women are made that way. It's much worse to be always wanting your own way, and not caring for anything or anybody so long as you get it."

Pickle had faced the flaw in his character or training with a good deal of candor, although, perhaps, there was a touch of pride in the feeling that he had a bigger sin to battle with than anybody else.

Esther's voice was now heard saying gently, —

"Then if we all know what is the sin that so easily besets us, we ought to be able to fight against it better, and to help one another to fight too. I think it would be nice to help each other when we can. There is something somewhere about bearing one another's burdens. I should think that would be the same sort of thing."

"And let's have a Sunday school rather often," said Milly, "and tell each other how we're getting on. I should like to know if Esther stops being afraid of things; and I'll tell how often I've been lazy at lessons, or have got angry with Prissy. Now and then I'm angry with mother too" – here Milly's face got very red – "and sometimes I say naughty things to her very softly, because I know she doesn't hear them. I think that's quite a sin – don't you, Esther?"

The sound of the tea-bell broke up the Sunday school at that moment, and the children trooped to the house, where Genefer had a nice tea waiting for them in the dining-room.

That night she remarked to her little charge how well-behaved they had all been that Sunday afternoon.

Esther's face grew rather rosy as she answered, —

"Yes, we are all going to try to be good, and fight our sins. But, Genefer, I wanted to tell them that we must ask Jesus to help us, and I didn't quite know how to say it, and so I didn't. I think it's very hard to be really brave."

"You'll get braver as you get older, Miss Esther," said the woman sympathetically, "and the little folks will soon find out that they want help for their bits of battles, and you can talk about how that's to be had another time."

"I – yes, I will try," said Esther earnestly. "I hope I shall grow braver, and then it will be less hard."

CHAPTER VII

DAYS OF SUNSHINE

Somehow after that Saturday at the Crag, and the Sunday following, on which some good resolutions had been made, Esther found that her life became decidedly brighter and happier.

Mr. Earle was particularly kind to her in study hours. He put aside for a time the lessons on arithmetic, which had often haunted her at night, for sums were rather a trouble to the little girl; and, instead, he brought from the Crag some beautiful books on natural history, and gave her chapters to read about the structure and habits of wild animals, which was very interesting; and then, when the boys had done their tasks, he would tell them all delightful tales about these animals, some of which he had shot himself in different parts of the world.

Mr. Earle was a capital hand at telling a story. They soon found that out; and the boys began to understand that he was a tutor quite worth pleasing. On the days when they had been industrious and well-behaved, he never minded stopping for half an hour or more before time, to help them with some bit of work of their own, or to tell them exciting stories.

But if they had been idle, or impertinent, or unruly, he just packed them off to their own pursuits with a few cutting words; and if he stayed at all, it was to tell Esther something about the pictures in her book, and the boys were not permitted to remain or to hear a word.

"You're not fit for civilized society – be off with you!" Mr. Earle would say in his quick, authoritative way; and it was no use their putting on coaxing or defiant airs, as they had done to their father in old days. Mr. Earle would neither be coaxed nor defied. He sent them straight off with an air of cutting contempt, which Pickle, at least, was old enough to feel and to wince under.

"If you can't behave yourselves like gentlemen, you're not fit company for a lady," was another of his maxims; and both Pickle and Puck began rather to dread provoking these speeches from their inflexible tutor.

And then Mr. Earle was well worth pleasing, as they soon began to find. Upon the Wednesday following that eventful Saturday, when he came down in the afternoon (for he always went back to the Crag between half-past twelve and two), he walked into the study and swept all the books back into their places, and said, with a happy twinkle in his eye, —

"Get your hats, and come along. We're going to have a lesson in navigation this afternoon."

The boys gave a whoop of delight. They did not exactly know what navigation might be, but they scented something delightful; and as they had been remarkably good for the past days, it seemed to come like a reward of virtue. Esther's face brightened with pleasure and curiosity. She wondered what was going to happen; but there was no delay in getting off, and soon they were all walking down to the shore, where they found old Pollard waiting for them, not in his cranky old tub, but in the tight, trim boat belonging to the Crag, that was kept in order by the old fisherman, and had beautiful white sails curled up in readiness, two masts, and a figurehead like a swan with a gracefully-arched neck.

Esther knew the look of the boat, and had once been out in it with Mr. Trelawny, but had been too much afraid of him to enjoy her sail at all. Now, however, her eyes kindled and danced, for she dearly loved the water, and was never the least seasick; and when the boys understood that they were going out for a sail, they yelled and danced and shouted like a pair of wild Indians.