Chapter 3

There Aunt Barbara had collected about her all her favorite pieces of old-fashioned furniture, her dark mahogany secretary-bureau, with its bright brass rings held fast in the mouths of wrinkled old brass faces, and her curtained bed, with all its festoons and fringes.

When Hatty stepped into the room, she saw Aunt Barbara sitting bolt-upright in a stuff, straight-backed chair, and looking not much in the humor for little visitors.

"Aunt Barbara, mother thought perhaps you would like some one with you this morning, and so I have brought in my Sunday books, and will sit here, if you like," said Hatty, in a cheerful tone.

"I don't mind your sitting here, if you choose," was the old lady's reply.

Hatty did not know what to say next, so she mounted into one of the high, stiff chairs, and took up a book and tried to read. Her eyes would wander to Aunt Barbara, sitting up straight and still, and looking out of the window at the sky. At length Hatty said, "Do lie down, Aunt Barbara; I am sure you would be more comfortable. Let me fix your pillows nicely for you."

"I never go to bed when I can sit up. I was not brought up to loll about and make myself sick by being lazy," said Aunt Barbara.

Hatty tried to read for a few moments more; then Aunt Barbara moved, and she looked at her again.

The old lady evidently wanted something she could not find in her pocket, and yet did not feel like getting up.

Hatty glanced her eyes round the room, and saw Aunt Barbara's spectacles on the mantel-piece.

She jumped up and handed them to her. "You may give me my Bible, if you choose," said Aunt Barbara, in a pleasanter tone than she had used that morning.

Hatty laid the great Bible on Aunt Barbara's lap, and for a few moments the old lady seemed nodding; but she soon began to rub her spectacles as if they were not clean, and then she put her hand to her head, and said, "old folks can't sit and read all day like young ones."

"That is just what grandma tells me," said Hatty; "and she says young people ought to remember that, and learn a great many Bible verses to think about when they are too sick or too old to read."

"But if they did not do that when they were young," said Aunt Barbara, "did grandma say what they should do then?"

"She did not say anything about that," said Hatty, looking puzzled. In another moment she added, in her most pleasant way, "would not you like me to read to you a little, Aunt Barbara?"

"If you can make that little tongue of yours go slow enough, for me to understand, you may try," said Aunt Barbara.

Hatty drew her chair close up to Aunt Barbara, and was going to ask when she should begin, when the old lady said, pettishly, "Go round to the other side, child! don't you know that's my deaf ear?" Hatty moved as she was requested, and then Aunt Barbara told her to read the 103d Psalm. Hatty was a very pleasant reader, and she had lately taken great pains not to speak too rapidly.

Aunt Barbara must have been pleased, for she kept Hatty reading, reading, until the family came home from church; and when she turned to leave the room, she said, "Thank you, child; I think going to your grandma's has done you good."

Mrs. Lee had not told Aunt Barbara of Hatty's letter about her new resolutions, yet the old lady felt that some change must have taken place in Hatty to make her willing to give up her own pleasure to sit in that quiet room with a sick, fretful old woman, as Aunt Barbara knew herself to be that morning.

Hatty enjoyed her afternoon at Sunday school all the more for the sacrifice she had made; and when the children all gathered in the parlor before tea to say their catechism and Bible verses to their father, she felt as if she were one of the happiest little girls in the world.

Mrs. Lee was all the afternoon with Aunt Barbara, and when night came the Doctor was sent for, and Jane and Betsy were called in to help Mrs. Lee to get the poor old lady into bed, for she was very sick.

The Doctor looked soberly, and said the disease must have been coming on some time--that there was a great deal of irritation in her system, and he could not say how her sickness might end.

Hatty and Marcus heard the Doctor say these words in the hall as he went out. The tears came into Hatty's eyes, and she said to her brother, "How I wish we had never spoken a wrong word to Aunt Barbara!"

Marcus did not reply, but he walked away to his room, to lie awake with sad, repentant thoughts.

Mrs. Lee had no idea how rude her children had often been to Aunt Barbara; her presence had been some check upon them, though she had heard enough to give her pain. Aunt Barbara had led for many years a quiet life, and the noise and restlessness of children tired and worried her; and latterly she had been far from well.

Mrs. Lee had been for some weeks confined to her room, and during this time Aunt Barbara had had much to bear from Marcus and the little ones; but she never complained to Mrs. Lee, though she daily grew more harsh in her own manner to the children.

A little gentleness, a little patience on the part of those who were young, healthy and happy, would have done much to make poor old Aunt Barbara more pleasant and cheerful.

VI.

Now came an anxious period in Hatty's home. Mrs. Lee, and a nurse who was hired for the purpose, spent their time in Aunt Barbara's room, while the Doctor came and went with a troubled, serious air.

On Hatty, meanwhile, fell the care of Meg and Harry. Hatty found having Meg in her room by no means so troublesome as she had expected. Meg's desire to meddle with Hatty's things, and to put them out of order, seemed to have gone now that she could say "our room." She even made herself a kind of guardian against Harry's inroads; and when she heard his little feet pattering that way, she would get in advance of him with her swift skips, and have the door shut before he reached it.

Hatty found it quite impossible to keep the children quiet, so she managed to have them in the garden as much as she could, in pleasant weather, that they might not disturb Aunt Barbara.

At the foot of the wide walk that led down between the flower beds, was a pleasant arbour, and here Hatty made a kind of a little home of her own. Marcus put up a tight box on one of the seats, and there Hatty kept a store of books and playthings for herself and the children, to make the place attractive, and looked so bright and happy herself, that when Marcus came from school he was glad to leave the dull, quiet house, to join the circle in the arbour.

Hatty was busy sewing there, one day, while Meg made a parasol for her doll, of a maple leaf, and Harry drew a long-necked squash up and down the walk for a carriage. Suddenly Hatty heard Marcus come out the back door, whistling a cheerful tune. Hatty tucked her work in her pocket, and quickly picked up some bits of bright-colored worsted that were scattered over her dress.

Marcus came down the walk, kicking a ball before him, and leaped into the arbour with a regular bound.

"Well, Hatty," he exclaimed, "I was head of my class to-day, and did not get a mark for being late, either. So I stand a chance for the prize yet."

"Were you not late?" asked Hatty, with surprise.

"O yes!" answered Marcus, with a laugh. "The boys were all on their knees when I went in, but I opened the door quietly, and nobody heard me; so I got off famously."

"But what did you say when your name was called? You did not tell an untruth, Marcus?" said Hatty, anxiously.

"No, indeed!" said Marcus, indignantly. "I am above that!"

"I don't understand it at all," said Hatty, uneasily.

"Why, this was the way. When Mr. Briggs called over the names for punctuality, some how or other his attention wandered just before he got to my name, and he skipped it, so I did not have to answer at all. After Mr. Briggs went out I looked at my name, and there was a cross after it for punctual; so you see it is all right, and my chance for the prize is as good as ever."

"I would rather have a brother who told the truth, than one who got the prize," said Hatty, earnestly. "Dear Marcus, won't you tell Mr. Briggs about it?"

"I shall do no such thing. Girls are so silly! You never can make them understand anything," said Marcus, hastily.

But Hatty did understand. She felt that Marcus had acted a lie for the sake of winning the prize he so greatly desired. She knew he would be angry if she said anything more about it; but she could not be silent and let him do wrong, without one more effort. After a moment, in which she asked God to help her to keep down her own quick temper if Marcus should make a harsh reply, Hatty said:

"Marcus, you know what mother tells us about the book where what we call secret things are written down, to be read on the great day when all things will be known. Something will stand against your name, there, worse than a mark for being unpunctual. Dear Marcus, do tell the truth, and not mind the prize. You will not care about the prize when you are happy with the beautiful angels in Heaven; but you will love to remember how you did right, when it came so very hard."

It had cost Hatty a great effort to say all this, and now she burst into tears.

"Girls are so silly!" said Marcus, impatiently. "I wish you would not set up to lecture me, Miss?" and the brother walked angrily away.

"For shame! For shame!" shouted little Meg, who had been an unnoticed listener to the conversation, and her slender finger was pointed at her brother. He took no notice of her; and she turned to Hatty, and threw her arms round her neck, and said: "Don't cry, sister. Meg will be a good girl. I will try very hard."

"Will you, Meg?" said Hatty, brightening. "Then I shall be very happy."

Now Meg had only wanted to say something to comfort Hatty, and had spoken the first words that came into her mind, without thinking what they meant. When she saw Hatty seem so much pleased, she thought to herself: "I do mean to try, if Hatty wants it so very much."

At that moment Harry's voice was heard in loud, angry screams. Hatty and Meg ran to the spot from whence they came. Marcus walked sheepishly away, as they appeared, ashamed to own that in his ill-humor he had been teasing his little brother.

Harry was a sweet-tempered, affectionate little fellow, ready to put up his mouth to kiss anybody who smiled upon him; but now he had been too far provoked to bear all patiently.

Marcus had run away with his yellow carriage and dashed it against a stone, until all the seeds that had been riding about so comfortably were scattered far and wide on the grass. Then, because he looked displeased, and said, "Naughty boy!" Marcus had perched him on the high chicken-coop, and left him to scream for himself, or roll off as he best could.

Hatty took the little fellow in her arms and wiped away his tears. She promised to hunt with him for a "beautiful squash," larger than the one he had lost,--and he was soon comforted, and began to smooth her face and say, "Dear Hatty--Hatty so dood."

"Yes, Hatty is so good," echoed Meg.

"Sister is only trying to be good," said Hatty, modestly. But the praise of the little ones went to her heart.

Marcus was sulky towards Hatty all the noon. He did not go out to help her feed the bantams, though she went through the room where he was, with the food in her hand, to give him a chance, if he wished, to join her pleasantly.

Hatty loved her brother, and since she had been making an effort to govern her temper, she had enjoyed being with him. He, too, found in her a very pleasant companion. She was ready to listen to him when he talked, and let herself be instructed, though she sometimes knew as much as he did about the subjects of which he was speaking. Marcus did not teaze Hatty much of late, as she had learned to laugh, herself, even when he warmed his hands by her red hair, or asked her if she was so hot-tempered that she had set her head on fire in a passion.

Marcus was glad that day when it came time for him to go to school again, though he generally thought the intermission quite too short. He missed Hatty, and he felt uneasy about what she had said. An uncomfortable feeling was at his heart. He was acting a lie! The truth had been plainly told him, and he could not forget it.

VII.

Marcus was very cross to Hatty for a day or two after their conversation in the arbour; and whenever he was in the house he kept the children perpetually uncomfortable with his teasing.

Hatty had all this to bear in silence, for she would not trouble her mother with complaints when she had so much on her mind.

Saturday came, and Marcus was to be at home all day. Hatty actually dreaded it. She did not know how she should get through so many hours, with Marcus about the house, so she resolved to go early to the arbour, and perhaps he would not follow her there.

Marcus lounged about by himself for a while, and at last, out of loneliness, he went down to the arbour, too.

Hatty looked up pleasantly as he drew near, and said: "Why can't you get a book, Marcus, and read something to Meg and me?"

"To Meg and you!" said Marcus, contemptuously. "A pretty business for a boy of twelve!"

Hatty did not like contempt, and she answered, hastily: "I am only two years younger than you are, and mother says I am farther advanced in some of my studies!"

"Hurrah for the red-head; touch her, and she goes off like a brimstone match!" said Marcus, triumphantly, for he was tired of having all the crossness on his own side.

"Hatty's hair isn't red," said Meg, angrily. "I heard a lady say, the other day, it was beautiful auburn hair; and she said Hatty was sweet-looking and good, and that is more than anybody will say of you."

"Bad boy! bad boy! Go away!" said Harry, lifting his fat little leg and trying to kick Marcus with his wee foot.

Hatty could not reprove the children, for she herself had set the example of speaking angry words.

Heartily ashamed of herself, she said: "I am very sorry I spoke so to you, Marcus; it was not right. I ought not to mind being put with Meg, for she is a dear little girl, and I love her very much."

"And I love Hatty, and you shan't be cross to her," said Meg, putting her arms round Hatty.

"It was Hatty who was cross," said the little girl, sadly. "Poor Hatty is only _trying_ to be good. She does wrong very, very often."

"Hatty dood! Hatty dood!" said Harry, nestling at her side.

Marcus walked away, without saying another word. He took his fishing-rod, and Hatty saw him no more that day.

When Marcus came home in the evening he was very tired. The family had all done supper. He took what he wanted, alone, and then went up to bed without saying "good-night" to any body. When he got into his own room, he saw on the floor by his bed a beautiful pair of slippers, with dogs' heads worked neatly upon them. He took off his heavy shoes. How comfortable the slippers felt to his tired feet! Such an excellent fit--so loose and easy! "How kind in mother to make them!" he thought. "When could she have had the time."

Marcus was going to rush to the door of Aunt Barbara's room to thank his mother, when he saw a little note lying on the table. He broke it open and read:

"Dear Marcus: It has made me very sad all the week to think you were displeased with me. I love you very dearly, and cannot bear to have you look at me as if you did not care for me. I know I made you angry by speaking about the mark at school. If I had not cared for you I should not have spoken as I did. I hope you will yet tell Mr. Briggs. Perhaps I am too naughty myself to give anybody advice. Please forgive me all I have ever done wrong to you.--I began to work these slippers as soon as I got home from grandma's, and they were only finished this week. I hope they will fit you.--Won't you be pleasant to-morrow morning to your sister Hatty?"

Marcus read the note, with the slippers on his feet. He felt ashamed of his unkindness to his little sister, and he resolved to meet her pleasantly in the morning. Marcus did not go to sleep until late that night, but we will not tell what was the subject of his thoughts.

The next morning Marcus' ill humor seemed to have all passed away. He made no apology to Hatty for his late rudeness, but she was generous enough to forget the past. She did not now in her turn sulk and pout, and so keep up the quarrel, but she received him as cheerfully as if nothing had happened.

Marcus wore the new slippers, and declared he had never had a present that suited him better, and Hatty was repaid for all her trouble.

Hatty fancied that at church Marcus was more attentive than usual, and once she thought she saw him wipe his eyes, as if he were affected by something the clergyman said; but she was soon afraid she had been mistaken, for he began to look about as usual, and even exchanged a glance of recognition with one of his acquaintances in the gallery.

Hatty felt anxious for her brother, and she was particularly tender and kind in her manner towards him all day, and in the evening, when she went to bed, she prayed earnestly that God would soften his heart, and lead him to do right. Hatty had not forgotten that Marcus had acted a lie, and she remembered that our Heavenly Father is "a God who hateth a lie."

VIII.

Monday morning rose bright and clear. For many days Aunt Barbara had been steadily gaining, and now she was coming down stairs, for the first time. Hatty felt it a pleasure to wait upon her mother, while she assisted the old lady to dress, and even Marcus seemed pleased to be useful. He and Jane carried down the old-fashioned easy chair, which Aunt Barbara particularly fancied, and then he drew a small table near it, placed a footstool beside it, and stood waiting to see if he could be of any further assistance. Mr. Lee helped Aunt Barbara down very tenderly, and looked at her as affectionately as if she were a dear little child instead of a poor invalid, tottering with age and sickness.

Marcus expected to hear Aunt Barbara say, "This room is too light for anybody," or "My! who could have chosen such a place for my chair?" but he was mistaken.

Aunt Barbara sunk down among the pillows which Hatty had arranged, quite exhausted, and for a while was too weak to say one word. Mrs. Lee brought her a glass of wine, and a light biscuit, and when Aunt Barbara had taken them she seemed better.

Then she looked round the cheerful library, and said, "How pleasant it is here, and how nicely you have prepared for me! And you helped, too, Marcus; that was kind!"

"I am very glad you are pleased!" said Marcus; and away he ran to school, feeling more light-hearted than he had done for many days. Mrs. Lee said she would take care of the children in the nursery, as Jane must be busy, and leave Hatty with Aunt Barbara. Hatty was glad to be trusted, and she brought her sewing, and took a low seat near the old lady.

Aunt Barbara did not seem inclined to talk at first, and Hatty kept very quiet, though every now and then she opened her mouth as if she were going to speak, and then shut it again quickly.

Hatty had learned that there are often times when older people do not care to hear even pleasant young voices. She had found out that a little happy child may show a great deal of unselfishness by keeping quiet, when she would gladly let her tongue speak out the joy that is in her heart. Hatty tried to think over all the hymns she had ever learned, and so be silent until Aunt Barbara should choose to speak.

Hatty's lips were beginning to feel quite stiff with their unusual effort, when Aunt Barbara said, "Hatty, my dear."

Hatty looked up suddenly, (Aunt Barbara had never called her "my dear" before,) but she only said "What, ma'am," and then waited to see what would come next.

"Do you love your grandma?" asked Aunt Barbara.

"Indeed I do!" said Hatty, warmly. "She is the dearest and sweetest old lady in the world!"

"She is older than I am, I believe, and a great deal more wrinkled,--at least I have heard so!" said Aunt Barbara.

"I don't know, I never thought about that; she looks very sweet to me!" said Hatty, with a puzzled look.

"I have had a notion," said Aunt Barbara, "that children did not like old people, and perhaps I have not tried to make myself pleasant to them. Do you think if I tried to be like your grandma you could love me, too?" and the old lady looked earnestly at the little girl.

"O Aunt Barbara, I love you now!" said Hatty affectionately; "and you grow more like grandma every day."

"Dear child!" said Aunt Barbara, and she laid her thin hand on the head of the little girl. After a moment's pause she went on--"Hatty, I think I must have been very cross before I was sick; somehow everything seemed wrong to me. I am sorry!"

"I and Marcus and Meg and all of us are sorry we were so naughty. It was our fault, Aunt Barbara,--and we mean to be better," said Hatty, eagerly.

"Poor old Aunt Barbara did wrong, too, child. God has laid her on her bed of sickness to think, and he has raised her up again for some good purpose. Perhaps he wanted to give her an opportunity to be more like what a person ought to be, who has had more than seventy years of blessings, and who has the promise of a home in Heaven. Aunt Barbara means to try not to be fretful, and you children must have patience with her if she don't always speak just as she should."

The old lady was in earnest, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Hatty rose and wiped them away,--then she kissed Aunt Barbara, tenderly, and said, "We will never think any harm of what dear Aunt Barbara says,--for we all love you, and mean to make you very happy."

Aunt Barbara now asked Hatty to sing some sweet hymns; and she looked so quiet and peaceful as she listened, that Hatty could not help thinking that Jesus must be very near to old people, who are almost at the golden gate of Heaven.

From that time Hatty was much with Aunt Barbara; and it was touching to see how hard the old lady tried to be gentle and pleasant.

Hatty's example had a great influence on the other children. Meg learned to skip more softly as she passed Aunt Barbara's door; and Harry never ate an orange without pattering along to Aunt Barbara's room, to give her a taste.

In their hearts the children often acknowledged that it was their own thoughtlessness which had brought about much of the old lady's harshness; and now that they were more gentle and considerate, they found her a dear, kind friend, who had pleasant stories to tell, of days gone by; and with her Hatty had many sweet talks of the loving Saviour, whom they were both striving to serve.

IX.

When Marcus came home from school on Monday afternoon, Hatty was in the garden, picking a bouquet to put in Aunt Barbara's room. He stepped quietly behind her and put his hands round her waist, before she heard him coming.

She looked round, expecting to see his face full of fun; but it was very sober,--and he said, quietly,

"I have lost the prize, Hatty!"

"Did you miss a lesson to-day!" said Hatty, eagerly.

"I have not made a mistake this term, and I don't mean to, if I can help it," said Marcus, rather proudly.

"Not a mark for misconduct?" said Hatty, anxiously.

"A mark for tardiness stands against my name. I have told Mr. Briggs."

Hatty turned towards her brother, and kissed him tenderly. He did not push her away, but, putting his arm round her waist, he walked a few moments along the path in silence; then he said, "I have had a talk with Mr. Briggs, that I hope I shall never forget. I thank you, Hatty, for being a true sister to me."

Here Marcus broke away from Hatty, and ran into the house before she could speak a word in reply.