Chapter 2

"Now don't, Mother!" said Marcus. "What do women know about such things?"

"What do boys know? you had better say!" said Hatty, hastily taking part with her mother.

"Any sensible boy of twelve knows more about such things than a woman!" said Marcus, turning to leave the room.

"Stop, Marcus," said Mrs. Lee, gently.

Marcus stopped, but did not approach his mother. She stepped to his side and said: "Marcus, there was once a boy of twelve who had more wisdom than the learned doctors in the Jewish Temple. He, of course, knew more than his mother. Yet he went down with her to Nazareth, and was subject unto her. Even he was not above honoring his father and mother. Will you not try to imitate him?"

Marcus was softened by his mother's gentle manner, and he answered: "If I don't behave as I ought to you, Mother, it is a great shame;" and then he was again turning away.

Again he was detained. Hatty laid her hand on his arm and said: "Marcus, I did not speak rightly to you just now. I was angry. I am sorry." Hatty blushed painfully when she spoke, and it was evident the acknowledgment cost her a great effort.

"I did not notice it," said Marcus, hurrying away.

Hatty felt a little hurt at the way her apology was received, but her mother took her by the hand, and said: "That is right, Hatty. Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another. You must not forget Marcus in your prayers."

Hatty was silent a moment, and then her mother said: "Come now, my dear, the baby is awake, and you will have an opportunity to see his queer little blue eyes, and to hold him in your lap."

Hatty was delighted when she reached the nursery, to be allowed to take the tiny being in her arms, and to hold his pretty soft hand in hers.

Meg and Harry seemed to think it was a very attractive sight to see Hatty with the baby on her lap, and they left their soap-bubbles and came to stand about her.

At this moment Aunt Barbara came in. She did not seem to notice Hatty and the baby. Her eyes at once fell upon the bowl full of soap-suds Meg had placed on a chair.

"Dear! dear!" exclaimed Aunt Barbara, "what are the children coming to? Why, they waste soap as if it grew, instead of cost money! Here, Meg, pour this away directly, and don't do such a thing again!"

"It won't help it to throw it away," said Meg. "I want to blow bubbles."

"Shan't have it! shan't have it!" said little Harry, holding tight to the edge of the bowl with his little fat hands.

"Aunt Barbara," said Mrs. Lee, very gently, "I told the children they might blow bubbles a little while this afternoon. Jane mixed the soap for them, that they need not be wasteful."

"Its little use savin' in such a house as this!" said Aunt Barbara, and she walked away as if she were particularly injured.

Marcus now came in to tell how happy and contented the chickens seemed in the new coop. He saw some evidences of displeasure on the faces of Meg and Harry, and he exclaimed, "I met Aunt Barbara in the hall, with her indignation strut on. What's up?"

"Marcus, my son, I cannot bear to hear you speak in that way of any old person, especially of Aunt Barbara."

"But she is too tiresome and provoking, Mother. If I want a piece of twine for a kite-string she calls it wasteful, and--"

"Yes," broke in Meg, "and when I want to play tea, she won't let me have a bit of milk or sugar,--that is, if mother is not here."

"Hush, hush, my children," said Mrs. Lee, with a look of pain. "Come, sit down all of you, and I will tell you a story."

Marcus liked to hear stories as well as little Meg herself, and he forthwith sat down on the floor, where he could look straight into his mother's eyes.

Mrs. Lee began: "Once there was a little orphan girl, only seven years old. Her father and mother died, and she did not know what was to become of her. Now this little girl had an aunt, who was the widow of a clergyman. This aunt had a little cottage of her own, and just enough money to live quietly and comfortably by herself. She knew if she took the little orphan to her home, she must deny herself a great many comforts to which she had always been accustomed; but she resolved to do it.

The little girl was very glad when she found that she was not alone in the wide world, and she soon learned to love the kind aunt who did so much for her.

Sometimes she was surprised to see what care her aunt took, that nothing should be wasted; and she often wondered why her aunt did not buy herself a new bonnet, or a new dress, which she seemed to need. She did not know that her aunt had to practice so much care and economy, to give her a home. By and by, when she grew older, she understood all this, and tried to be like a daughter to the friend who had been so kind to her. Her aunt's queer little ways only made her feel, then, that it was for her she had learned to save even the shreds she cut off when she was sewing. After the orphan girl was grown, she was married to a very kind gentleman. This gentleman was so grateful to the aunt for her care of the orphan, that he wanted her to come and live with them in her comfortable home; but Aunt Barbara said--"

"There, there, Mother! you have let it out," exclaimed the children in a breath.

"Don't, don't," said Hatty; "what did Aunt Barbara say, Mother?"

"She said, your old aunty is queer and notional, and maybe you would be happier without her. No, no, let me stay here alone; I shall be quite contented to know my little orphan is so well taken care of! It was of no use urging Aunt Barbara, so we had to let her have her way. Now, my children, you know how Aunt Barbara got her very economical ways, and I hope you will have patience with her, for my sake."

"Indeed, I will!" said Hatty, looking up with her eyes full of tears.

"I won't tease her any more," said Meg, nestling at her mother's side.

Marcus was silent; he felt too deeply to speak, how ill a return he had made to Aunt Barbara for her kindness to his mother.

"But how came Aunt Barbara here?" asked Hatty, with much interest.

"I will tell you," said Mrs. Lee. "We had been married three years, when I had a little, helpless, sickly baby. I was too feeble to take proper care of it, and your father was obliged to be too much away from home to give me any help. Aunt Barbara heard how weak and pale I was looking, and what a poor, suffering baby I had. Then the old lady let her little home to a stranger, and came one day to us. She said she could not sleep for thinking of me and the little one, and she had come to take care of us. And what good care she took of us! She seemed to know just what I wanted. I was young, then, and there were many things about which I was as ignorant as you are. Aunt Barbara had nourishing food made for me just when I needed it, she took the care of the housekeeping from me, and so nursed me that I soon began to feel strong again. But I have not told you about the poor baby. Aunt Barbara could not do too much for that baby. It was a cross little thing, crying even when it was not sick. Aunt Barbara was never out of patience with it. She attended to its food, got up with it at night, and even when I was well enough to take it with me again, she was hardly willing to give it up.

"All this watching and nursing was too much for Aunt Barbara; she has never been well since. When her rheumatism keeps her awake at night, she is often irritable and inclined to find fault the next day. When I feel tempted to be out of patience with her, I have only to remember that it was for me and my little baby she came here, and that for us she wearied herself until her health gave way."

"Mother," said Hatty, in a whisper, "was I that little sickly baby that Aunt Barbara was so patient with?"

"Yes, my darling," was Mrs. Lee's reply.

The many impertinent, hasty, impatient words that she had spoken to her old aunt, returned to Hatty's mind, and she resolved to ask God to give her strength to make amends for the past.

"It is a sad truth," said Mrs. Lee, "that old people have much less patience shown towards them than little children have, yet they need it quite as much. God has so arranged it, that those who are watched over and taken care of when they are helpless babes, should in their turn nurse and comfort the feeble old age of their parents. Remember, my children, old age makes people in one way like infants; that is, it leads them to be irritable and troublesome, and often helpless, and these defects should be borne with tenderly, as your father or I would soothe that dear baby on Hatty's lap. God has taught in his holy book the greatest respect to the aged, and his eye sees with displeasure even a rude look cast towards one who is grey-haired."

The children were all silent. Mrs. Lee saw that they were moved, and in her heart she prayed that God would grant a blessing upon the earnest words she had spoken, and save her dear ones from falling into the sin so offensive to the Holy One of Israel.

IV.

When Hatty went to bed, on the evening of her return, she found Meg fast asleep, and apparently as much at home as if she had always had a right to talk of "our room," instead of being one of the children in the nursery.

Hatty looked at the little brown face lying on the pillow, and the long dark lashes hiding the mischievous eyes, and she felt that she loved her little sister dearly, and would be willing to be put to a great deal of inconvenience to be of service to her. When Hatty knelt that night in the quiet closet her mother had given up to her use, she did not forget to pray that she might be patient and gentle with Meg, and so win her confidence as to be able to lead her to the Saviour, who loves to call the little ones His own.

Hatty's short reading in the Bible that evening was about the crucifixion of our Saviour, and as she prepared to lie down, she wondered how he could have borne such suffering without one murmur. Hatty had a perfect horror of pain. Her skin was thin and delicate, and even the grasp of a rough hand on her arm was sure to leave a bruise. Her usually pleasant face was clouded over by a scratch or a pin-prick, and her tears often fell fast for a wound that many children would have met with a smile. Hatty was naturally very sensitive to pain, and that was not her fault; but she had never yet begun to try to bear it patiently, as a part of her christian duty. As she lay down that night, she resolved to be more patient under, little trials, and to make light of little pains.

Hatty's new resolution was soon put to the test. She had hardly put her head on the pillow, before she became conscious that her couch was anything but a bed of roses.

Meg had consoled herself for going to sleep in a strange room by herself, by munching hard crackers until that pleasure was lost in the new joy of the dreams of childhood. The bed was strewn with the crumbs, and through her thin night-dress Hatty could feel them in all directions. After brushing them this way and that way, Hatty jumped out of bed with an angry bound, and proceeded to light the candle and rectify the mischief in a systematic manner.

"The troublesome little thing!" exclaimed Hatty, as she saw a half-eaten cracker lying in Meg's loosened grasp. "She ought to be punished for it!"

At that moment Hatty thought of her resolution to be patient under trifling discomforts, and a feeling of mortification came over her. Very quietly she brushed away the offending crumbs, gently she removed the half-eaten cracker, and then she knelt to ask forgiveness for this new exhibition of her hasty temper, ere she again lay down to rest.

Hatty was soon in a sweet sleep; but shortly after midnight she was awakened by a feeling very much as if a broom-handle were thrust against her, while at the same time Meg exclaimed, "Do move, Hatty, you crowd so. I wish you would'nt come on my side of the bed."

Meg was a thin bony little creature, and the children all dreaded a punch with her sharp elbows almost as much as one of her scientific pinches.

Hatty's tender side actually ached, but she made an effort to say, gently, "Meg, you must be dreaming; wake up!"

"I am not asleep at all!" said Meg, pettishly. "I wish you would move!"

Hatty passed her hand along the seam of the sheet (Mrs. Lee used her old-fashioned sheets on the children's beds) to assure herself that she was on her own side of the bed, and then she was going to tell Meg that it was _she_ who was out of place; but something checked her, and she only said, pleasantly, "Never mind, Meg, where the middle of the bed is,--you shall have all the room you want;" and making way for her little friend with the sharp elbows, Hatty composed herself again to sleep, with a far happier feeling than if she had contended for her rights.

Once she was going to say, "O Meg, it hurts me still where you punched me," but she checked the words, and thought how trifling was such a pain compared with the nails in the hands of our great example, who has bid us follow him in his patience, as well as in perfect purity.

Hatty's long ride from her grandmother's, a distance of sixteen miles, and the excitement of her return home, made her sleep very soundly, when not disturbed, and she would gladly have continued her nap until the rousing bell gave forth its summons.

Meg was something like the uneasy birds who twitter at midnight on their perches, and wake at dawn to sing, as if they never knew the need of rest.

By the first grey streak of morning she began to stir, and was soon wide awake and full of glee at finding herself in her new quarters.

Hatty turned her back resolutely, but in vain. Meg was not to be so easily disposed of. Hatty was going to say some hasty words to Meg, as she twitched away from her, when Meg pleaded, "Do wake up, sister Hatty. It is Sunday morning."

"Sunday morning!" that thought brought Hatty to herself--and making an effort to throw off her sleepiness, she turned towards Meg, and said, "Well, then, give me a nice kiss to begin the day."

Meg gave the kiss with real good will, and then, nestling up close to Hatty, she began to talk as if her tongue needed violent exercise to make up for being quiet all night.

Before many minutes were over, Hatty had set that little tongue at Sunday work, repeating all the hymns and Bible verses that Meg had learned during the three months that Hatty had been away from home.

Meg was full of eager questions about her hymns and her verses, and Hatty had an opportunity of giving the little one some sweet lessons about the loving Saviour and what He wishes in His lambs, that she would have lost if she had given way to her selfish wish for a longer nap.

We do not know, when we give way to our own whims, instead of being unselfish, what opportunities of usefulness we may be losing. If we do one duty well, some higher and more important duty generally follows close upon it.

Hatty took a pleasure in making Meg look particularly nice that Sunday morning, and she was well pleased when her mother smilingly remarked at breakfast that Meg showed very plainly that she had fallen into good hands. "Hatty needs a little attention, herself," added Mrs. Lee, and she glanced at the irregular white line which separated the two heavy masses of waving red hair on each side of Hatty's head.

Hatty would rather have gone without her breakfast than had her hair parted. Hatty was apt to fret about being hurt all the while the operation was going on, and Mrs. Lee actually dreaded to propose what, if borne cheerfully, would have been but the work of a moment. Happily for Hatty at that instant her thoughts were called in a different direction by Marcus' sudden question--

"Where is Aunt Barbara this morning?"

Even the question showed some interest in the old lady; and Mrs. Lee hailed it as an indication of a better state of feeling in her son.

"Aunt Barbara is not very well this morning; she did not get up as early as usual," said Mrs. Lee.

"Shan't I go up to see if I can do anything for her?" said Hatty, eagerly.

"She will be down soon, I think; but you may go," said the mother, pleasantly.

Hatty ran up stairs, and knocked very gently on Aunt Barbara's door.

"Who is it? What do you want?" answered Aunt Barbara's voice from within.

"It is Hatty. Can I do anything for you?" said the little girl.

"No!" was at first the decided answer; then followed a sudden call "Stop, stop, child. Come in a moment."

Hatty stepped in, but felt like drawing back as Aunt Barbara stood there, half dressed, with her grey hair uncovered, and her thin, shrivelled arms bare.

"Don't stare as if you were frightened," said Aunt Barbara, quickly. "Old people are not generally very beautiful to look at!"

"Can I do anything for you?" said Hatty, pleasantly.

"Yes, if you want to. I can't find my pocket. Perhaps you can see it."

Aunt Barbara wore a pocket tied on under her dress with a string, and she had been for some moments looking for it, as she was ready to put it on.

Hatty glanced round the room, and was delighted when she saw a piece of white Marseilles peeping out from under the tumbled bed-clothes. She sprang towards it, and handed the pocket to the old lady, who took it without a word, and went on dressing herself.

Hatty began to pick up the things about the room, and to throw open the bed; for she knew Aunt Barbara would not think of going down to breakfast until the room was a little in order.

Aunt Barbara did not seem to notice her; but when she had tied the strings to her close-quilted muslin cap, and pinned a broad black ribbon round it, she said: "Come, now, child, its not worth while your breakfast should get cold while you are waiting on me."

Hatty's face brightened, and she said, eagerly: "I should be glad to do anything for you, Aunt Barbara."

"You may have more chance than you want, if I feel like this many mornings," said Aunt Barbara, very sharply.

Aunt Barbara was not very pleasant at breakfast that morning. Nothing seemed cooked to suit her. The fact was, the poor old lady was not well, and had no appetite, and that made everything seem out of the way to her.

Hatty could not help noticing how pleasantly her mother took Aunt Barbara's comments on the breakfast, that would have put many housekeepers out of patience. When nothing on the table seemed to suit Aunt Barbara, Mrs. Lee quietly sent out for a bit of ham to be boiled; and when it came in, she seemed pleased that the old lady ate a few mouthfuls,--complaining at first that it was done a trifle too much, and in the end making way with it all.

Mr. Lee did not seem to notice that Aunt Barbara was not well,--at least he did not ask about her health; and Hatty thought at first it was not quite right in her father, and she wondered that he should do anything so unlike himself. By-and-by she noticed that all the topics he brought up were such as were likely to interest Aunt Barbara. He spoke of meeting an old minister who used to live near her own home, and told how cheerfully he talked of his long, active life, and of the happy time when he should meet his Master in heaven. Then he brought up the new orphan asylum, which was always sure to enlist Aunt Barbara's attention; and at last she seemed to forget her pains, while listening to his account of the meeting on the subject he had attended the evening before.

Hatty felt pleased as she saw the shadow passing from the old lady's face, and she glanced across for Marcus to sympathize in her satisfaction. He did not see her, but Hatty noticed that he placed a comfortable chair, after breakfast, near the window where Aunt Barbara best loved to sit, and drew a footstool up to it.

Marcus did not think that anybody observed him, but two hearts were made glad by this little effort of kindness. Mrs. Lee and Hatty both saw that Marcus' feelings towards Aunt Barbara had undergone a happy change. Marcus' feelings had been touched, but feelings are a poor dependence for doing right, without principle.

Hatty was delighted at the idea of going to church once more in her dear native town. She felt that it would be a new and better thing to be there, now that she could count herself among those who were glad at the thought, "God is in His holy temple." Hatty began, in her impatience, to make her preparations in very good season. She had laid out on her bed all the things she expected to wear, when her mother called her to come into the nursery.

Hatty went promptly as far as the door, but she moved across the floor more slowly when she saw that her mother had a comb and brush in her hand.

"I hope we shall have no trouble about the hair, this morning. It needs parting, sadly," said Mrs. Lee, in her gentle way.

Hatty's mind was made up at that moment; her mother might pull as hard as was necessary, _she_ would not say a word if it hurt her ever so much.

Mrs. Lee used the comb very carefully, yet it was disagreeable, almost painful to Hatty's delicate skin. She shut her mouth tight, however, and thought of her resolution to bear little hurts pleasantly, and actually got through without a murmur.

When the hair was brushed smoothly, Hatty's face looked very sweet from the effort she had made to do right, and she well deserved the affectionate kiss her mother pressed on her lips.

"Perhaps I could help Aunt Barbara get ready for church," said Hatty, one right action leading to another.

"Aunt Barbara is not well enough to go, to-day. I am very sorry, on my own account as well as on hers. It is Communion day, and I had hoped to go to church, for the first time in many weeks."

"But cannot you go, Mother?" said Hatty, earnestly.

"No, my dear," said Mrs. Lee, quietly. "I do not like to leave Aunt Barbara with no one to wait upon her. I promised Betsy, yesterday, that she should go out this morning, and Jane will be busy with the baby and Harry."

Hatty was silent for a moment; a struggle was going on in her mind. At length she looked up with a beautiful, bright expression on her face, and said, "I will stay with Aunt Barbara, if you could trust her with me. I do not want you to be kept at home."

Mrs. Lee knew the effort it must have cost her little girl to give up the pleasure for which she had been so eagerly preparing, but she did not refuse her kind offer.

"Thank you, my darling; I shall feel quite easy leaving Aunt Barbara with you. 'I was sick and ye visited me,' our Saviour says, and then adds, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.' That thought makes taking care of the sick doubly pleasant. And now, darling, instead of putting on your own things, which are all laid out so nicely, you will have to help me to get ready."

Hatty was glad to be kept very busy that she might not have a moment to regret her choice, and she made herself so actively useful, that Mrs. Lee was not at all too late in joining the group waiting for her in the hall below.

"Why! are you not going, Hatty?" exclaimed Marcus, as his sister appeared at her mother's side.

"Hatty is going to stay with Aunt Barbara. She may need some attention, and I did not like to leave her alone," said Mrs. Lee.

Marcus looked up in surprise. He knew with what eagerness Hatty had spoken in the morning of being at church, and could not but wonder at the sudden change,--she looked so cheerful. One glance at the sweet, bright expression of her face, convinced him of the generous motive that had kept her at home. Marcus began to think there was some strength in Hatty's new resolution to do right.

V.

Aunt Barbara's room was in the back building, and the entrance to it was on the first landing to the front stairs. The old lady had chosen that room, when she came to Mrs. Lee's, because no one had ever occupied it; for she said, "I never did turn anybody out, and I never mean to."