Part 7

"Whew!" said Mr. Lovatt, as he quickly set Bessie upon her feet, "who would have thought that tiny hand could have stung so?"

"You little tiger!" said Miss Adams, seizing Bessie by the shoulder and giving her a shake. "You are the child they call so good; are you? Why, there's not another in the house would have flown into such a passion for nothing. What a furious temper!"

Bessie had never been shaken before. It was a punishment which Mr. and Mrs. Bradford would not have thought proper for a child, were she ever so naughty, and she had never been punished at all by any one but her father or mother, and that but seldom. But it was not so much the shaking as Miss Adams' words which sobered Bessie in an instant. She had been in a passion again! She stood perfectly silent, her lips and cheeks growing so white that Miss Adams was frightened, but just then Mrs. Stanton stepped out on the piazza and came quickly toward them. They all looked ashamed and uncomfortable as the stately old lady lifted her little granddaughter in her arms and spoke a few words of stern reproof to the thoughtless young people who could find amusement in tormenting a little child. Then she carried Bessie away.

XIII.

_BESSIE'S REPENTANCE._

Mrs. Stanton would have come sooner, but her visitors were just leaving when Maggie came in, and she did not quite understand at first how it was. Miss Ellery, a young lady who had been standing by, rushed into Mrs. Stanton's room after she carried Bessie in, and told her how the little girl had been treated. Mrs. Stanton was very much displeased, but just now she could think of nothing but the child's distress. She shook all over, and the sobs and tears came faster and faster till grandmamma was afraid she would be ill. She soothed and comforted and petted in vain. Bessie still cried as if her heart would break. All she could say was, "Oh, mamma, mamma! I want my own mamma!"

At last Mrs. Stanton said kindly but firmly, "Bessie, my child, you _must_ be quiet. You will surely be sick. Grandmamma is very sorry for you, but your head cannot hurt you so very much now."

"Oh, no!" sobbed the little girl, clinging about her grandmother's neck, "it isn't that, grandmamma; I don't care much if she did pull my hair; but oh, I was so wicked! I was in a passion again, and I was _so_ bad! I struck that man, I know I did. Jesus will be sorry, and he will be angry with me too. He will think that I don't want to be his little child any more, 'cause I was so very, very naughty. Oh! what shall I do?"

"Tell Jesus that you are sorry, and ask him to forgive you, Bessie," said grandmamma, gently.

"Oh! I am 'fraid he can't," sobbed Bessie; "he must be so very angry. I didn't think about him, and I didn't try one bit, grandmamma. I just thought about what Miss Adams and that man did to me, and I was in such a dreadful passion; I never was so bad before. Oh, I wish I could tell my own mamma about it!"

All this was said with many sobs and tears and catchings of her breath, and grandmamma wished that Miss Adams could see the distress she had caused.

"Bessie," she said, "why did Jesus come down from heaven and die on the cross?"

"So our Father in heaven could forgive us," answered the child more quietly.

"And do you not think that his precious blood is enough to wash away our great sins as well as those which we may think are smaller?"

"Yes, grandmamma."

"Now, no sin is small in the eyes of a just and holy God, Bessie; but when he made such a great sacrifice for us, it was that he might be able to forgive _every one_ of our sins against him, if we are truly sorry for them. And he will surely do so, my darling, and help and love us still, if we ask him for the sake of that dear Son."

"And will he listen to me _now_, grandmamma, just when I was so very naughty?"

"Yes, he is always ready to hear us. No matter how much we have grieved him, he will not turn away when we call upon him."

Bessie was silent for some minutes with her face hidden on her grandmother's neck, and her sobs became less violent. At last she whispered, "Grandmamma, do you think Jesus can love me just as much as he did before?"

"Just as much, my precious one," said grandmamma, drawing her arms close about Bessie, and pressing her lips on the little curly head. Then Bessie raised her face and turned around in her grandmamma's lap. A very pale little face it was, and very weak and tired she looked; but she lay quite quiet now except for a long sob which still came now and then. Maggie wondered why grandmamma bit her lip, and why her eyebrows drew together in a frown, as if she were angry. She could not be displeased with Bessie now, she thought.

Presently grandmamma began to sing in a low voice,--

"Just as I am, without one plea, Save that thy blood was shed for me, And that thou bid'st me come to thee, O Lamb of God! I come.

"Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God! I come.

"Just as I am thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve, Because thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God! I come.

"Just as I am,--thy love unknown Has broken every barrier down; Now to be thine, yea, thine alone O Lamb of God! I come."

When she had sung one verse, Maggie joined in, and Bessie lay listening. When they were through, Mrs. Stanton put Bessie down in a corner of the lounge, and said the children must have some lunch. First she rang the bell, and then went to a little cupboard at the side of the fireplace and brought out two small white plates, which Maggie and Bessie knew quite well. Presently the waiter came to the door to know what Mrs. Stanton wanted. This was James, the head waiter. He knew Maggie and Bessie, and they were great favorites with him. His wife washed for some of the ladies in the hotel, and once when she came there with some clothes, she brought her little girl with her, and left her in the hall with her father, who was busy there. She was a _very_ little girl, and could just walk alone, and while she was toddling about after her father, she fell down and knocked her head against the corner of a door. She cried very hard, and James tried to quiet her, lest she should disturb some of the boarders. But she had a great bump on her head, and she did not see any reason why she should be still when it hurt her so. She was still crying when Maggie and Bessie came through the hall. Each had a stick of candy, which some one had just given them. When they heard the little one crying, they stopped to ask what ailed her.

"I'll give her my candy," said Maggie.

"Yes, do," said Bessie, "and I'll give you half of mine."

The child stopped crying when she had the nice stick of candy. James was very much pleased, and after that he was always glad to wait upon our little girls. He had just now heard the story of Bessie's trouble, for Miss Ellery had taken pains to spread it through the house, so vexed was she at Miss Adams, and James had been by when she was telling some of the ladies. He felt very sorry for Bessie, and wished that he could do something for her. When he came to answer Mrs. Stanton's ring, she asked him to bring some bread and butter.

"Is it for the little ladies, ma'am?" asked James. Mrs. Stanton said, "Yes," and James asked if they would not like toast better. Two or three times when Maggie and Bessie had taken tea with their grandmamma, he had noticed that Bessie always asked for toast. Mrs. Stanton thanked him and said yes, for she thought perhaps Bessie would eat toast when she would not eat bread.

"But can I have it at this time of the day?" she said.

"No fear, ma'am," said James. "You shall have it, if I make it myself;" and with a nod to the children, he went away.

Bessie sat quiet in a corner of the sofa, still looking very grave.

"Don't you feel happy now, Bessie?" said Maggie, creeping close to her, and putting her arm around her. "I am sure Jesus will forgive you."

"Yes, I think he will," said Bessie; "but I can't help being sorry 'cause I was so naughty."

"You was not half so bad as Miss Adams, if you did get into a passion," said Maggie, "and I don't believe he'll forgive her."

"Oh, Maggie!" said Bessie.

"Well, I don't believe she'll ask him."

"Then I'll ask him," said Bessie.

"Now, Bessie, don't you do it!"

"But I ought to ask him, if I want him to forgive me," said Bessie. "When we say 'Our Father in heaven,' we say 'Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.' I think Miss Adams sinned against me a little bit; don't you, Maggie?"

"No, I don't," said Maggie. "No little bit about it. _I_ think she sinned against you a great bit,--as much as the whole ocean."

"Then if I want Jesus to forgive me, I ought to forgive her, and to ask him to forgive her too. I think I ought. I'm going to ask mamma to-night."

"_I_ sha'n't do it, I know," said Maggie. "I wish I was as tall as she is; no,--as tall as papa or Colonel Rush, and oh! wouldn't she get it then!"

"What would you do?" asked Bessie.

"I don't know,--something. Oh, yes! don't you know the pictures of Bluebeard's wives, where they're all hanging up by their hair? I'd just hang her up that way, and then _her_ hair would be nicely pulled. And I'd get the boys to come and poke her with sticks." Maggie said this, shaking her head with a very determined look.

The idea of Miss Adams hanging up by her hair made Bessie laugh; but in a moment she looked grave again. "I don't believe that's yight, Maggie," she said.

"I don't care," said Maggie. "I'm going to say it."

Just then James came back, and they forgot Miss Adams for a while. He brought a nice plate of toast and some butter. Grandmamma spread two pieces of toast and laid them on the little plates, and then went back again to the famous cupboard and brought out--oh, delicious!--a box of guava jelly. She put a spoonful on each plate, and gave them to the children. "Now, remember," she said, "the jelly goes with the toast."

Bessie looked rather doubtfully at her toast. "Grandmamma, I don't feel very hungry."

"But you must eat something, Bessie; it is long after your luncheon time, and it will not do for you to go until dinner without eating. Mamma will think I did not take good care of you."

But the toast tasted so good with the guava jelly that Bessie eat the whole of hers and even asked for more, to grandma's great pleasure. When she brought it to her with some more jelly, she saw that Bessie had still some of the sweetmeats left on her plate. "Don't you like your jelly, dear?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," said Bessie, "but I didn't know if I could eat all the toast, and I thought perhaps you only wanted me to eat just so much share of the guava as I eat a share of the toast; so I eat that first to be sure."

Grandma smiled, but she did not praise her honest little granddaughter, for she did not think it best.

When Aunt Annie heard Miss Ellery tell how Bessie had been treated, she was very angry, and said some things about Miss Adams and Mr. Lovatt which her mother did not wish to have her say before the children. She told her so, speaking in French; so Annie said no more just then; but as soon as Bessie ceased crying, she ran out to tell Miss Adams what she thought of her conduct. But happily Miss Adams was not to be found, and before Annie saw her again, her mother had persuaded her that it was better to say nothing about it.

But now when she could not find Miss Adams, she went off to Mrs. Rush's room and told her and the colonel the whole story. The colonel was angry enough to please even Annie. He said so much, and grew so excited, that Mrs. Rush was sorry Annie had told him. He was far more displeased than he would have been with any insult to himself, and when, soon after, he met Mr. Lovatt in the hall, he spoke so severely and angrily to him that Mr. Lovatt was much offended. Very high words passed between the two gentlemen, and the quarrel might have become serious, if Mr. Howard had not interfered.

Miss Adams heard all this, and when she found how much trouble and confusion she had caused by her cruel thoughtlessness, she felt rather ashamed, and wished she had not tormented the little child who had never done her any harm. But this was not the last of it, for Miss Adams was to be punished a little by the last person who meant to do it.

XIV.

_WHO IS A LADY?_

In the afternoon the children asked their grandmother if they might go down upon the beach, but she said it was still too warm, and she did not wish Bessie to go out until the sun was down.

"Grandma is going to take her nap now," said Aunt Annie; "suppose we go out on the piazza and have a store, and ask Lily and Gracie to come play with you."

"Is Miss Adams there?" asked Maggie.

"No, but the colonel has had his arm-chair taken out, and is sitting there with Mrs. Rush, and I am going there with my work; so you will be quite safe."

"Oh, then we'll go," said Bessie. She did not feel afraid where the colonel was.

"Are you going to sew with Mrs. Rush again?" asked Maggie.

Aunt Annie laughed and pinched her cheeks, telling her not to be inquisitive. For the last few days Aunt Annie had always seemed to be sewing with Mrs. Rush, and they were very busy, but they did not appear to wish to let the little girls know what they were doing. Annie was always whisking her work out of their sight, and if they asked any questions, they were put off, or told, as Maggie was now, not to be curious.

Once when they were staying with the colonel, when Mrs. Rush had gone out for a while, he sent Bessie to a certain drawer to find a knife. Bessie did as she was told, but as she was looking for it, she suddenly called out, "Oh, what a dear darling little cap! just like a dolly's. Why, does Mrs. Yush play with dolls when nobody looks at her?"

"Holloa!" said the colonel, "I forgot; come away from that drawer. I'm a nice man; can't keep my own secrets."

Maggie was going to ask some questions; but the colonel began to talk about something else, and they both forgot the little cap. But they were very curious to know why Aunt Annie and Mrs. Rush were always whispering and laughing and showing each other their work, as well as why it was so often put away when they came near. To-day Aunt Annie was embroidering a little piece of muslin, but she did not put it out of their sight, though she would answer no questions about it.

They all went out on the piazza to set about making what Maggie called, "A Grocery and _Perwision_ Store." The piazza steps ended in two large blocks of wood, and on one of these they were to play. Aunt Annie made some paper boxes to hold some of their things, and they had clam shells for the rest. They had sand for sugar, blades of timothy grass for corn, sea-weed for smoked beef and ham, and small pebbles for eggs, with larger ones for potatoes. In short, it was quite wonderful to see the number of things they contrived to have for sale. When the colonel found what they were about, he called for a couple of clam shells, and sent his man for a piece of wood and some twine; with these he made a pair of scales, which Maggie and Bessie thought quite splendid. To be sure, one side was ever so much heavier than the other, but that did not matter in the least; neither they nor their customers would be troubled by a trifle like that. Then he gave them a couple of bullets and some shot for weights, so that the whole thing was fixed in fine style.

Maggie went to call Lily and Gracie, and when Mamie Stone heard what was going on, she asked if she might come too. Maggie said "Yes," for Mamie was not so disagreeable as she used to be when she first came to Quam Beach. However fretful and selfish she was when she was playing with other children, she was almost always pleasant when she was with Maggie and Bessie.

Maggie went back with her to their little playmates, and in a few moments they were all as busy as bees. Maggie said Bessie must be store-keeper, for she knew she did not feel like running about.

They had been playing but a little while, when Walter came up, and when he saw what they were doing, he said he would be a customer too. He was a capital playfellow, and pretended to be ever so many different people. First, he was an old negro man, then he was a naughty boy, who meddled with everything on the counter, and gave the little shop-woman a great deal of trouble, which she enjoyed very much; then he was a Frenchman, who spoke broken English; and after that, he pretended to be a cross old Irishman.

While they were playing so nicely, who should come sweeping down the piazza but Miss Adams, dressed in her riding-habit? Away went all the little girls like a flock of frightened birds. Mamie and Lily ran into the parlor, where they peeped at her from behind the blinds; Gracie scrambled into Annie Stanton's lap; Maggie squeezed herself in between the colonel and Mrs. Rush; and Bessie walked to the other side of the colonel, where she stood with her hand on his chair.

Miss Adams was vexed when she saw them all fly off so, for she had not come with any intention of interrupting or teasing them. She was going out to ride, and had walked to the window of the hall above, to see if the horses were at the door, and there she had noticed the children at their play.

Bessie stood quietly behind her counter, while the rest ran about after Maggie. She looked more pale and languid than usual that afternoon, as she always did when she had been tired or excited. All the soft pink color which had come into her cheek since she had been at Quam Beach was quite gone; it was no wonder that grandma frowned and bit her lip to keep herself from saying sharp things when she looked at her darling that day.

Now, Miss Adams always said that she was afraid of nobody, and did not care what people said of her; but as she watched the delicate little child, who she knew had been brought by her parents to the sea-shore that she might gain health and strength, she felt sorry that she had plagued her so, and thought that she would like to make it up with her. She went into her room, put a large packet of sugar-plums into her pocket, and then went down stairs. She came up to Bessie just as the little girl reached the colonel's side, and, standing before her, said,--

"Well, Bessie, are you in a better humor yet?"

Bessie was certainly not pale now. A very bright color had come into her cheeks, as Miss Adams spoke to her, but she said nothing.

"Come," said Miss Adams, holding out the parcel, "here are some sugar-plums for you; come, kiss me and make up."

"I'll forgive you," said Bessie, gravely; "but I don't want the sugar-plums."

"Oh, yes, you do!" said Miss Adams; "come and kiss me for them."

"I don't kiss people for sugar-plums," said Bessie; "and I'm sure I don't want them."

"Then come and kiss me without the sugar-plums."

"No," said Bessie, "I'll shake hands with you, but I don't kiss people I don't like."

"Oh!" said Miss Adams, "I suppose you keep all your kisses for your friend, the colonel."

"Oh, no," answered Bessie, "a great many are for papa and mamma, and the yest of the people I like."

Miss Adams saw that the colonel was laughing behind his newspaper, and she was provoked.

"And you don't like me, eh?" she said, sharply. "Don't you know it's very rude to tell a lady you don't like her, and wont kiss her?"

Bessie opened her eyes very wide. "Are you a lady?" she asked, in a tone of great surprise.

Mrs. Rush did not wish to have Miss Adams go on talking to the child, for she was afraid straightforward Bessie would say something which would cause fresh trouble; and she begged Annie Stanton to take her away; but Annie would not; she rather enjoyed the prospect, and when Mrs. Rush would have spoken herself, her husband put out his hand and stopped her.

"A lady!" repeated Miss Adams; "what do you take me for? Don't you know a lady when you see one?"

"Oh, yes," answered Bessie, innocently. "Mamma's a lady, and grandma and Aunt Annie and Mrs. Yush, and ever so many others."

"And I'm not, eh?" said Miss Adams, angrily.

Bessie did not answer, but peeped up under the colonel's paper, to see if he would help her; but he did not seem inclined to interfere. His eyes were fixed on the paper which he held before his face, and his other hand was busily engaged in smoothing his moustache.

Miss Adams was very angry. She would not have cared if she had been alone with Bessie; but she was provoked that she should tell her she was not a lady, before so many people, for two or three gentlemen had gathered near, and the colonel's amusement vexed her still more.

"You don't call me a lady, eh?" said Miss Adams again.

"How can you quarrel with such a baby about nothing, Miss Adams?" said Mrs. Rush, rising from her seat.

"She is no baby. She knows very well what she is about, and she has been put up to this," said Miss Adams, with a furious look at the colonel. "Who told you I was not a lady?"

"Nobody; I just knew it myself," said Bessie, drawing closer to the colonel, as Miss Adams came nearer to her. He threw down his paper, and put his hand over her shoulder.

"You little impertinent!" said Miss Adams, "who made you a judge, I should like to know? Not a lady, indeed!"

Poor Bessie! She would not say what she did not think, and she did not like to say what she did think; but she was tired of the dispute, and thought Miss Adams would have an answer. She gave a long sigh, and said,--

"Well, perhaps you are a kind of a lady; but if you are, it must be a kitchen or stable lady."

The gentlemen who were standing by walked quickly away; Mrs. Rush looked frightened; Annie bent her head down on Gracie's shoulder, and shook with laughter; and the colonel reached his crutches and, rising, began to steady himself.

Miss Adams stood silent a moment, and then began to speak in a voice almost choked with rage, "You little--" when the colonel interrupted her.

"Excuse me, madam," he said, "if I remind you that you have no one to blame for this but yourself. The child is straightforward and honest, accustomed to speak as she thinks; and if she has said what was better left unsaid, remember that you forced her to it. I cannot permit her to be annoyed any farther."

Helpless as he was, he looked so grand and tall as he stood there with his eyes fixed sternly on Miss Adams, that she felt abashed. Mrs. Rush had taken Bessie into her room, Annie had followed with Maggie and Gracie, and there was no one left to quarrel with but the colonel. Just at that moment the horses were led up, and she turned away and went down the steps to mount.

But Miss Adams had never been so annoyed. She had no mother, or perhaps she would not have been so rough and unladylike; but she had had many a reproof from other people. Many a grave, elderly lady, and even some of her own age, had spoken, some kindly, some severely, upon the wild, boisterous manner in which she chose to behave. But she had always laughed at all they said, and went on as before. But that this innocent little child, to whom she had been so unkind, should see for herself that she had acted in an improper way, and one that was only fit for the kitchen or stable, and should tell her so, and show such surprise at hearing her call herself a lady, was very mortifying, and she could not forget it.

That evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Bradford came home, they went over to the hotel for their little girls, and Annie told them all that had happened that day. After Bessie was undressed, and had said her prayers, she sat on her mother's lap, and told her of all her troubles, and then she felt happier.

"Mamma, I'm afraid I made Miss Adams mad, when I said that, and I didn't mean to," she said.

"But why did you say it, Bessie?--it was saucy."