"'Can I not help thee?' asked Benito.
"'Dear child!' said the old dame. 'How can those tiny hands help to bear a burden such as mine?'
"'I can try,' said Benito. 'Lay a part of it upon my shoulders. I will take all I can to lighten thine. And see, take this; it will strengthen thee for the rest of the journey;' and he handed her the piece of bread which the soldier had given for his own needs.
"The dame took it and eat, and strength came to her as the boy had said; and as he tried to bear upon his shoulders a part of her load, she, too, shed tears which fell upon his bosom as she leaned over him. But they were tears of gratitude and blessing, and did her good; so that after this she went on her way with more comfort.
"And now the day was drawing to its close, the sun was setting, and the end of their journey was near; for the pilgrims could plainly see the river which lay between them and the mountains where their Father dwelt. But just on the nearer side of the river rose a high hill, and on it was a castle, where lived a cruel robber named Doubt, who often came down and dragged many pilgrims up to his castle just when they were in sight of their home. When the soldiers saw this, they said there was one more fight to make before they crossed the river, and again Experience went with them, leaving the child at the foot of the hill, and telling him that if he were frightened, or if the robber came to carry him away, he had only to gaze through his glass at the opposite side of the river and all fear and danger would pass away.
"So the three went up the hill, and the child sat down to await their return. As he sat there, he looked at the river and was afraid, for he thought, 'How can such a little one as I pass through those deep waters? The waves will be too strong for me, and will carry me away.'
"Then he remembered what Experience had told him, and looking through his glass, he saw that the waves were so shallow that they would scarcely wet his feet; and on the other side rose his Father's house, so beautiful, so glorious, that he cried aloud with joy and with longing to pass the river and be there.
"But now he found he was not to sit still, for as the fight went on above, and the soldiers and Experience gained the victory, one after another of the prisoners came down the hill, wounded and bleeding, for they had risen to help those who came to set them free, and had been terribly hurt in the battle.
"Benito rose and did what he could for them, bringing water to their thirsty, fevered lips, staying the blood as well as he could, and gathering fresh grass and moss for pillows for their weary heads. And while he was so busy, he felt a touch upon his shoulder, and looking up, he saw the shining angel who had carried away the little boy with whom he had wept.
"'Come,' said the angel, 'I am thy Father's messenger, sent to carry thee over the river.'
"The little one stretched out his arms with a cry of joy; but, even as he did so, the old thought came to him, and he said, sadly, 'Ah, I have found no jewel to offer to my Father!'
"The angel made no answer, but lifted him up, softly kissing his forehead, and Benito sank gently into his arms. The angel carried him swiftly over the river, and on the other side stood his Elder Brother, who received him from the messenger, and laid him in his bosom; and he said to Benito, 'My lamb, put thy hand into thy bosom and see what thou findest there.'
"The little one obeyed, and drew forth a string of pure white pearls, so fair, so lovely that they seemed more beautiful than any of the shining jewels which his fellow-pilgrims had worn.
"'That is thy gift unto thy Father,' said his Brother. 'These are the tears which the young child and the old dame shed upon thy bosom, the drops of water which thou didst bring to the fainting prisoners, with which thou didst cheer the drooping bird. They have changed into these fair pearls, and returned unto thine own bosom, because in doing it unto them, thou didst it unto me. See, there is thy welcome into the home of the blessed.'
"Then looking up, Benito saw written over the door of his Father's house, 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'
"And his Brother carried him into his Father's presence, where he cast his pearls at his feet, and was received into his love and care for evermore."
The colonel paused and looked at the children, fearing that he might have made his story too long. But it did not seem so, for they all were so interested that they had quite forgotten everything else. Bessie lay back with her head on his arm, and her eyes fixed on his face as if she feared to lose a word; while even Maggie's restless hands were quite still, lying clasped on the arm of the sofa as she stood motionless beside him. Gracie and Lily had drawn up their chairs and sat in front of him, listening as eagerly as the others; and now Lily drew a long breath, and said, "Is that all?"
"All!" said the colonel. "Yes. Is it not enough? I feared you would be quite tired of me and my story."
"Oh, no!" said Lily. "I wish you would tell us stories all day. I should never be tired."
"I should then," said Colonel Rush, smiling. "And it is nearly time for you to go home, now."
"Colonel Rush," said Gracie, "isn't your story what is called an allegory?"
"Yes," he answered. "Did you understand it, Bessie?"
"Most all of it," answered Bessie. "You meant that even little children can do something for Jesus if they are kind and good, and he wont care if it is only a little thing, if they do it 'cause they love him."
"You are right, my darling."
"And when the boy went in the wrong road after the butterfly, you meant that we must not do wrong even when we thought it was for a good purpose," said Maggie. "Mamma told me that the other day."
"And the Elder Brother means Jesus," said Lily.
"I am glad you all understand it so well," said the colonel, "and still more glad that you all like it. It was Maggie's little hymn which made me think of it. So you may thank her, too, for any pleasure it has given you."
"And who is Experience?" asked Maggie.
"Experience may be older people who are generally wiser in some things than the little ones, and can help them along; but who may yet learn much from a child."
"Children cannot teach grown people; can they?" said Lily.
"I think they can," said Colonel Rush, laying his hand lovingly on Bessie's head. "The best lesson I ever learned in my life was taught me by a little child."
"Who?" asked Maggie.
"And what was the lesson?" said Gracie.
"You must not ask," he answered. "Here is your papa, Maggie; and Tom for you, Lily."
The children said good-by to their kind friends, and went away, promising gladly to come again the next Sunday.
VII.
THE PEACH-STONES
THOSE peach-stones gave Maggie and Bessie a great deal to do. They were very busy children in those days. On Monday mamma began again with their lessons. They went to her for an hour each morning after they came from their walk, said a reading and spelling lesson, a little of the multiplication-table which Maggie said she was sure was made just "to bother little girls," and a verse of poetry; and when the hour was over, had a short sewing lesson. Maggie's "towel task," as she called it, was done later in the day whenever her mamma had time to attend to her.
As soon as the sewing lesson was over, they went to the yard to look after the peach-stones. Patrick saved them all for Bessie, and had found two boards for her on which she might dry them; and never peach-stones needed so much attention. In the first place, there was each morning the plate full which Patrick had collected from the table to be washed and spread out on the boards, and the whole number counted over and over again, for they could never make them twice the same.
Often when they went out, they found the cats had come over the fence, and knocked them down into the earth of the flower-garden, and they all had to be washed over again. Then Flossy, who was always with them now, would insist on scrambling over the boards, and would send the peach-stones flying in every direction, for he thought it fine fun to see them rolling about. There is no telling how much they enjoyed all this trouble, or how distressed they would have been, if it had been suddenly brought to an end. Indeed, they were quite disappointed if they found everything in good order when they went out in the yard.
"Margaret," said Mr. Bradford to his wife one day, as he sat at the library window, watching his little daughters at their work, "how long do you suppose it will take those peach-stones to dry at this rate?"
Mrs. Bradford laughed as she came and looked over his shoulder.
"Dear little things!" she said. "How they do enjoy it! I believe they fancy they are doing the chief part of the work for our peach preserves, besides gaining something to add to their store for the library. I shall be sorry when the warm weather is at an end, and I shall have to forbid them to play with water. It gives some trouble, to be sure, in the matter of dresses and aprons, but I have not the heart to stop them, while I do not fear they will take cold."
Nurse grumbled a good deal over the wet dresses and aprons.
"Who ever heard of such doings?" she said one day. "And what's the good of it all? Them little ignoramuses out in the backwoods can't read your books when they get 'em."
Maggie was very much displeased.
"You ought not to talk so, nursey," she said. "If those children don't know how to read, they can be taught. And don't you like to do missionary work?"
"Missionary work!" said nurse. "And do you think I'd leave my comfortable home to go missioning?"
"That's because you're not so very good," said Maggie, gravely. "Miss Winslow is going to leave her comfortable home, and go to teach those little children that you called such an unpleasant name; and it's very good of her. Besides, you needn't go away to do missionary work; you can do it here if you choose."
"And how's that? I'd like to know," said nursey, whisking off Maggie's wet dress.
"If we want to help people, we can do it without going away," said Maggie, "and sometimes it's our duty to do it, and then that's our mission; mamma said so. Now, nursey, don't you think you have a duty?"
"If I have, I don't need you to teach it to me," said nurse.
"No," said Maggie, "I am not going to teach you, 'cause you are old, and I am little, but I am just going to enter an ex-plan-a-tion for you, 'cause you don't seem to understand."
At this, Jane, who was dressing Bessie began to giggle, and nurse put her head into the wardrobe, where the children's dresses lay.
"Now," Maggie went on, "you see Miss Winslow thinks it is her duty to go and teach those log-cabin children, and that's her missionary work; and it's Bessie's duty and mine to help her if we can, so it's our missionary work to buy the library; and it's your duty to dress us if we get ourselves wet while we earn the money, so that's your missionary work; and you ought to do it with a cheerful mind, and not scold us."
Nurse tried to look grum, but the corners of her mouth were twitching, and when she had fastened Maggie's dress, she gave her a hug and a kiss which did not seem as though she were very angry.
As soon as the little girls had run away to their mamma's room, nurse and Jane laughed heartily.
"Well, well," said nurse, "to hear the reasoning of her! And she has the right of it, too, bless her heart, and just shames her old mammy."
After this, there was no more grumbling about the wet dresses.
One night there was a hard storm, and in the morning, when the children went out, they found that the rain had washed sand and gravel all over their precious peach-stones. This, of course, must be attended to immediately, and it was quite a piece of work, for by this time they had collected seven or eight hundred.
"We ought to have something large to wash them in," said Maggie. "What can we find?"
Now, Mrs. Bradford had a new cook, who had only been in the house for two or three days; and, as the children were seldom allowed to go into the kitchen, she was as yet quite a stranger to them. This cook had not a good temper, but she was very neat, and that morning she had been making a great scrubbing and polishing of her tins, after which she put them out in the sun. Looking about for something in which to wash their peach-stones, Maggie and Bessie saw these tins, and among them a bright new colander.
"Oh, that's just what we want," said Maggie. "Can we take it, Patrick?" she asked of the good-natured waiter, who was cleaning knives in the area.
"'Deed, and ye may," said Patrick, who thought his little ladies must have everything they asked for.
Much delighted, the children filled the colander with peach-stones, and, carrying it to the hydrant, turned on the water, thinking it fine fun to see it stream through the holes of the colander.
Meanwhile Flossy, who was running about the yard, putting his nose into everything, found a quantity of muffin-rings, and thinking that these would be good things for him to play with, soon had them rolling about in every direction; but our little girls were too busy to see that he was in mischief.
It took some time to wash all the peach-stones, but they were done at last, and just arranged again in regular rows upon the boards, when the cook came out to take in her tins. Angry enough she was when she saw the rings scattered around, and the clean, bright colander smeared with sand and gravel; and terribly she scolded.
"How dare ye!" she said to Maggie and Bessie. "I'll teach ye to touch my tins."
"They're not yours," said Bessie, "they are mamma's. Maggie and I were with her the other day when she bought that basin with holes in, and she only lent them to you; and, cook, we don't be talked to in that way; mamma don't allow it."
This made the cook still more angry, and she scolded in a way quite terrible to hear, while the children stood looking at her, too much astonished and frightened to answer. But Flossy never heard any great noise without trying to add his share, and he now began to bark at cook with all his might.
"There now," said Patrick, "don't ye make such a fuss, Bridget, and I'll just wash yer colander as clane as a new pin. They're not used to sich talk, isn't the little ladies; for it's dacent people we are all, Mrs. Bradford's help, and not a hard word among us at all, at all. Come now, be civil; and do you run to your play, honeys; it is no harrum ye have done."
But the cook would not be pacified, and scolded louder and louder, while the more she scolded, the louder Flossy barked.
"Cook," said Bessie, "you are a very naughty woman, and I don't think we'll keep you."
"Woof, woof," said Flossy.
"Be off with you," said cook. "You'll fly at me, will you?"
"Woof, woof," said Flossy.
The woman snatched up Patrick's knife-brick, and with a very bad word to the children, was about to throw it at the puppy, when Patrick caught her arm; and the frightened little ones, catching up their dog, scampered off as fast as their feet could carry them.
Up the back steps and through piazza and hall, till they reached the front stairs, where they sat down quite out of breath. For a moment or two neither of them said a word, but sat looking at each other, as if they did not know what to make of all this; while Flossy, thinking he had made noise enough for this time, curled himself up in Maggie's lap for a nap.
At last, Maggie gave a long sigh. "Oh, dear," she said, "what a dreadful woman!"
"And what a wicked word she called us!" said Bessie. "Maggie, what shall we do?"
"We'll have to tell mamma," said Maggie; "she ought to know it."
"But, how can we tell her? I don't like to say that word, and, Maggie, I don't like you to say it either."
"But I s'pose we'll have to," said Maggie. "Mamma wouldn't like to have a swearer in her house."
"And what will be done to the cook?" asked Bessie. "Will she be hung?"
"No, I guess not," answered Maggie. "I think they only hang people when they kill somebody. But I s'pose she'll have to be took to prison. Papa's a lawyer, and I guess he'll send her."
"I thought the policemen did that," said Bessie.
"I'll tell you," said Maggie. "You know papa goes down town?"
"Yes, to his office."
"And he goes to another place called 'court,'" said Maggie. "Well, when somebody is very wicked, the police officer comes, and takes him to the lawyer, and he says, 'Mister, this is a very naughty person who has done something very bad;' and the lawyer says, 'Here, you, go to prison, and just behave yourself.' And then the policeman takes him to prison, and locks him up."
"Oh!" said Bessie, looking at her sister with great admiration, "what a wise girl you are! You know almost everything."
"I am going to try and learn a great deal more, so I can tell everybody everything they want to know," said Maggie.
"Maggie, do you think cook has been 'brought up in the way she should go'?"
"No, I don't," said Maggie. "No 'way she should go' about it."
"Then do you think we ought to want her to be punished?"
"I don't want her to be punished," answered Maggie; "at least, not much. But you see she ought to be. Anyhow, we must tell mamma, and she'll know what is best."
"But how can we say that word?" said Bessie.
"I'll tell you," said Maggie, after a moment's thought. "You say half of it, Bessie, and I'll say the rest. I'll say the first half."
"Well," said Bessie, with a long sigh. "I suppose we'll have to. Let's go and do it quick then. I don't like to think about it."
Maggie laid Flossy down upon the soft mat at the foot of the stairs, and hand in hand, she and Bessie went up to their mother's room. Now it so happened that Mrs. Bradford had been passing through the upper hall as the little girls sat talking below. She stopped for a moment to see what they were doing, and heard Maggie tell Bessie about the lawyer. They did not see or hear her, and she would not wait to listen, though she was sure, from the sound of their voices that they were in trouble, but passed on to her room, where her sister Annie and Mrs. Rush were sitting. She told them what Maggie had said, at which they were very much amused.
"Something has happened to distress them," said Mrs. Bradford, "and I suppose I shall soon hear of it. If they come up with any droll story, do not laugh, as it seems to be a serious matter to them."
Mrs. Rush and Annie Stanton promised to keep sober faces if possible; but they did not know how much their gravity was to be tried. A moment later, the children came in, and with grave, earnest looks walked directly to their mother.
"Mamma," said Maggie, "we have something dreadful to tell you."
"Such a shocking thing!" said Bessie; "but we have to tell you."
"That is right, my darlings," said mamma. "If you have done anything wrong, tell me at once, and I will forgive you."
"It was not us, mamma. It was the new cook. Tell her quick, Maggie."
"Mamma," said Maggie, almost in a whisper, "she called us little dev' – "
"'ul," said Bessie.
"'s – s – s – s!" said Maggie.
Down went Aunt Annie's face into the sofa-pillows, while Mrs. Rush turned quickly toward the window to hide hers. Mrs. Bradford coughed, and put her hand over her mouth, but it was all useless; and Annie's merry laugh was ringing in the children's astonished ears.
Maggie colored all over, and the tears came in her eyes, while Bessie, with cheeks almost as red, turned angrily to her aunt.
"You oughtn't, you oughtn't!" she said; "It is not a thing to laugh at. It was a shocking, shocking word."
"My darling," began mamma, then she, too, broke down and laughed with the other ladies.
This was quite too much; Bessie hid her face on Maggie's shoulder, and both burst into tears. Mamma was grave in a moment. She lifted Bessie on her lap, and drew Maggie close to her side.
"My poor little ones," she said, "that was too bad, but we did not mean to hurt your feelings;" and she soothed and petted them till they could look up again and dry their tears.
"Now tell me all about it," she said; and Bessie told her story with many a grieved sob, ending with "And then she called us that name, mamma," for she would not trust herself to repeat the words which had caused her and Maggie so much distress.
Mrs. Bradford was much displeased with the cook, and reproved her; but the woman was saucy, and as she made much trouble in the kitchen, she sent her away. The children were greatly surprised that no policeman came for her, and that she left the house quite quietly, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
About this time an end came to the washing of peach-stones, for, as the weather became cool, mamma forbade Maggie and Bessie to play with water. So the stones had at last a chance to dry; then Patrick cracked them, and the children took out the kernels. Boiling water was then poured over them, and when it had cooled enough for small fingers, the kernels were fished out; and the skin which the hot water had loosened was slipped off by the little girls. After that mamma allowed them to drop the blanched pits into the jars of preserves; and papa declared that no peaches had ever tasted so good as those sweet-meats which his Maggie and Bessie had helped to make. They had collected thirteen hundred peach-stones, and earned sixty-five cents, which went into the "library-box" in mamma's drawer. Maggie had hemmed four towels, for which she had been paid twenty cents. This, with papa's twenty-seven bright pennies, made one dollar and twelve cents.
VIII.
THE NEW GLOVES
"Maggie and Bessie," said mamma one morning, "I want to see your gloves. It is a month to-day since you began to save money for your library."
The gloves were soon brought, and mamma examined them.
"Maggie, your second-best are too shabby to be worn any more," said her mother, "you must take the better ones for every day, and I shall buy you a new pair."
"Oh, mamma, I would rather keep the old pair, and save the money," said Maggie.
"No, dear; you know I told you I must keep you as neat and well dressed as usual. You must have what is necessary, and then what is left of the dollar goes in your box."
"And how much will it take for new gloves, mamma?"
"About seventy-five cents. Then you have had two boot-laces; they are ten cents; that leaves fifteen cents out of the dollar. Bessie's gloves will do, I think, and she has had one boot-lace; that leaves the whole of her dollar except five cents. Maggie, you must have taken great pains to use fewer laces. This is a great improvement on last month."
But in spite of her mother's praise, Maggie's face looked very long. Bessie had almost the whole of her dollar, and but a few cents were left of her own.
"Mamma," said Bessie, "I think Maggie could not help it, if her second gloves are pretty mussed. The other day Flossy yan away with them, and before we could get them he had chewed one all up. And it was not Maggie's carelessness, 'cause Jane put them on the bed, and Flossy jumped up and pulled them off. Couldn't you take a little of my dollar to help to buy the new gloves, and let Maggie keep some more of hers?"
"That will not do," said mamma, smiling at the generous little girl; "but since it was Flossy's fault that the gloves were spoiled, and Maggie has taken so much pains, I will only take out fifty cents for the new pair. And I will tell you, Bessie, it is much harder for Maggie to keep her things neat than it is for you, and then she generally puts on her own shoes, while nurse or Jane puts on yours. Suppose next month I add another twenty-five cents to her dollar; are you willing?"
"Course I am, mamma. I am just as glad as anything. Isn't that nice, Maggie?"
Maggie's face brightened. "And how much have we now, mamma?" she asked.
"Forty cents out of Maggie's dollar, and ninety-five from Bessie's just make one dollar, thirty-five cents. You have one dollar and twelve cents in your box, which make in all two dollars, forty-seven cents."
Maggie was quite happy when she found they had such a sum, which mamma told them was nearly half of what they wanted for the library.
