Daisy

"Now we'll have it!" cried St. Clair. "Keep cool, Blackeyes; let's hear – we'll have an exposition now. Theme, Christian grace."

Ah, there rushed through my heart with her words a remembrance of other words – a fluttering vision of something "gentle and easy to be entreated" – "first pure, then peaceable" – "gentleness, goodness, meekness." – But the grip of passion held them all down or kept them all back. After St. Clair's first burst, the girls were still and waited for what I would say. I was facing Miss Lansing, who had taken her hand from my shoulder.

"Are you not ashamed of yourself?" I said; and I remember I thought how my mother would have spoken to them. "Miss Lansing's good nature" – I went on slowly, – "Miss Macy's kindness – Miss Bentley's independence – and Miss St. Clair's good breeding!" —

"And Miss Randolph's religion!" echoed the last-named, with a quiet distinctness which went into my heart.

"What about my independence?" said Miss Bentley.

"Now we've got enough, girls, – lie down and go to sleep," said Miss Macy. "There's quite enough of this. There was too much before we began. Stop where you are."

They did not stop, however, without a good deal of noisy chaffing and arguing, none of which I heard. Only the words, "Miss Randolph's religion," rung in my ears. I lay down with them lying like lead on my heart. I went to sleep under them. I woke up early, while all the rest were asleep, and began to study them.

"Miss Randolph's religion!" If it had been only that, only mine. But the religion I professed was the religion of Christ; the name I was called by was His name, the thing I had brought into discredit was His truth. I hope in all my life I may never know again the heart-pangs that this thought cost me. I studied how to undo the mischief I had done. I could find no way. I had seemed to prove my religion an unsteady, superficial thing; the evidence I had given I could not withdraw; it must stand. I lay thinking, with the heartache, until the rousing bell rang, and the sleepers began to stir from their slumbers. I got up and began to dress with the rest.

"What was it all that happened last night?" said Miss Lansing.

"Advancement in knowledge," – said Miss St. Clair.

"Now, girls – don't begin again," said Miss Macy.

"Knowledge is a good thing," said the other, with pins in her mouth. "I intend to take every opportunity that offers of increasing mine; especially I mean to study Egyptians and Christians. I haven't any Christians among my own family or acquaintance – so you see, naturally, Macy, I am curious; and when a good specimen offers – "

"I am not a good specimen," I said.

"People are not good judges of themselves, it is said," the girl went on. "Everybody considers Miss Randolph a sample of what that article ought to be."

"You don't use the word right," remarked Miss Macy. "A sample is taken from what is, – not from what ought to be."

"I don't care," was St. Clair's reply.

"I did not behave like a Christian last night," I forced myself to say. "I was impatient."

"Like an impatient Christian then, I suppose," said St Clair.

I felt myself getting impatient again, with all my sorrow and humiliation of heart. And yet more humbled at the consciousness, I hastened to get out of the room. It was a miserable day, that day of my first school triumphs, and so were several more that followed. I was very busy; I had no time for recollection and prayer; I was in the midst of gratulations and plaudits from my companions and the teachers; and I missed, O how I missed the praise of God. I felt like a traitor. In the heat of the fight I had let my colours come to the ground. I had dishonoured my Captain. Some would say it was a little thing; but I felt then and I know now, there are no little things; I knew I had done harm; how much it was utterly beyond my reach to know.

As soon as I could I seized an opportunity to get to Miss Cardigan. I found her among her flowers, nipping off here a leaf and there a flower that had passed its time; so busy, that for a few moments she did not see that I was different from usual. Then came the question which I had been looking for.

"Daisy, you are not right to-day?"

"I haven't been right since I got that standish," I burst forth.

Miss Cardigan looked at me again, and then did what I had not expected; she took my head between her two hands and kissed me. Not loosing her hold, she looked into my face.

"What is it, my pet?"

"Miss Cardigan," I said, "can any one be a Christian and yet – yet – "

"Do something unworthy a Christian?" she said. "I wot well they can! But then, they are weak Christians."

I knew that before. But somehow, hearing her say it brought the shame and the sorrow more fresh to the surface. The tears came. Miss Cardigan pulled me into the next room and sat down, drawing me into her arms; and I wept there with her arms about me.

"What then, Daisy?" she asked at length, as if the suspense pained her.

"I acted so, Miss Cardigan," I said; and I told her all about it.

"So the devil has found a weak spot in your armour," she said. "You must guard it well, Daisy."

"How can I?"

"How can you? Keep your shield before it, my bairn. What is your shield for? The Lord has given you a great strong shield, big enough to cover you from head to foot, if your hands know how to manage it."

"What is that, Miss Cardigan?"

"The shield of faith, dear. Only believe. According to your faith be it unto you."

"Believe what?" I asked, lifting my head at last.

"Believe that if you are a weak little soldier, your Captain knows all about it; and any fight that you go into for His sake, He will bear you through. I don't care what. Any fight, Daisy."

"But I got impatient," I said, "at the girls' way of talking."

"And perhaps you were a wee bit set up in your heart because you got the prize of the day."

"Proud!" said I.

"Don't it look like it? Even proud of being a Christian, mayhap."

"Could I!" I said. "Was I?"

"It wouldn't be the first time one with as little cause had got puffed up a bit. But heavenly charity 'is not puffed up.'"

"I know that," I said and my tears started afresh.

"How shall I help it in future?" I asked after a while, during which my friend had been silent.

"Help it?" she said cheerfully. "You can't help it – but Jesus can."

"But my impatience, and – my pride," I said, very downcast.

"'Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall I shall arise.' But there is no need you should fall, Daisy. Remember 'the Lord is able to make him stand' – may be said of every one of the Lord's people."

"But will He keep me from impatience, and take pride out of my heart? Why, I did not know it was there, Miss Cardigan."

"Did He say 'Whatsoever you shall ask in my name, I will do it?' And when He has written 'Whatsoever,' are you going to write it over and put 'anything not too hard'? Neither you nor me, Daisy?"

"Whatsoever, Miss Cardigan," I said slowly.