A Princess in Calico

‘There are just four in the family, besides Martha Spriggs, the funny old girl. My princess, and her two stepbrothers, Stephen and Lemuel, and Polly, who has been a sufferer from spinal trouble all her life.

‘It is the quaintest old house, with low, small rooms, except on the east side, where Captain Lemuel has added two large rooms with the loveliest bay windows, which are always full of flowers and sunshine. I think the neighbours are horrified that they use them for common. You know country people always keep their best parlours done up in must and green paper; but the princess says, “Nothing is too good for Polly and the boys!” They just idolize her, and I fancy they have good reason to, for, as Stephen said, in his queer, blunt way, “she comes as near to an angel as any mortal ever will.” Captain Lemuel has been all over the world, and is very interesting. Mamma is so amused over his stories. Stephen is blunt, but I shouldn’t be afraid to trust him with every cent I owned, and Polly is just a bundle of sweetness and patience. I wish you could see how gentle these great, strong men are with her: Stephen won’t let any one but himself carry her to bed, and Lemuel is always ready to push her about in her wheel chair, and talk nonsense to her till she laughs and cries together.

‘And the princess! She is just everything to everybody. I cannot fancy what the house would be without her. I only hope she won’t die before Polly, for I’m sure it would kill her. She never takes her eyes off her when she is in the room, and when I teased her a little about it her eyes filled, and she cried softly: —

‘“It’s little wonder if I do love her, after thirty years of such nursing as no one even dreamed of.” It made me almost wish to be sick myself.

‘She has such a merry, tender way with her. I do not wonder Lemuel says they don’t mind rainy weather since Pauline makes sunshine to order. And she is the busiest creature! I believe she carries the whole of Sleepy Hollow on her heart and shoulders. She seems to have all the destitute and afflicted under her wing, and dispenses beef-tea and Bible promises with the same liberal hand.

‘Oh! Papa, I am so glad we were detained at Sleepy Hollow, for at last I have found what I have been looking for – an absolutely Christ-like life. Your own little daughter, Muriel.’

Richard Everidge remained deep in thought for a long time after he had kissed the large, girlish signature; then he drew a sheet of paper towards him, and wrote, in his clear, bold hand: —

‘My Darling Muriel, – I knew your princess, as she says, in “the long ago,” and she is, as you have found her, pure gold.

‘Make the most of your visit, for, next to your Bible, she is the best teacher you could have. Your loving ‘Father.’

The days lengthened into weeks and the Everidges were still at the Farm.

‘Why should you go?’ Pauline said, in her cheery, unanswerable way, when they spoke of leaving: ‘it does us good to have you, and it does you good to be here,’ and Muriel and her mother were content.

‘Princess,’ said the girl one day, as she watched her moving lightly about the kitchen, ‘I envy you your altitude.’

Pauline laughed merrily.

‘You dear child! Every one gets up the mountain if they keep on climbing.’

‘But I have not an atom of perseverance,’ sighed Muriel. ‘Christianity seems such a tremendous undertaking to me.’

‘Let me give you what was to me the beginning of all Gospels: “The kingdom of heaven is just as near us as our work is, for the gate of heaven for each soul lies in the endeavour to do that work perfectly.”

‘But, princess, you are such a royal creature. It seems such a waste for you to be buried here.’

‘The King never wastes, little one. If we have the angel aim and standard, we can consecrate the smallest acts. Don’t you know that “he who aims for perfectness in a trifle, is trying to do that trifle holily?”’

‘You dear princess! You make me think of one of Murillo’s pictures in the Louvre, which we saw when we were abroad last year. It is the interior of a convent kitchen, and instead of mortals in old dresses doing the work, there are beautiful white-winged angels. One puts the kettle on the fire, and one is lifting up a pail of water, and one is at the kitchen dresser reaching up for plates.’

Pauline smiled.

‘That is it exactly. How can anything we do be common when we remember our inheritance? You call me Princess, out of love, little one, but I am a princess in reality, for my Father is a King. Let me give you a good word which your father gave me long ago. “If you cannot realize your Ideal, you can at least idealize your Real.” I have been trying to do it ever since.’

‘That is just like papa,’ said Muriel, with a proud smile. ‘He says you are “pure gold,” princess.’

‘Did Rich – did your father say that?’ cried Pauline, and Muriel looked up to see a soft flush in her face, while her eyes shone. ‘The King’s daughter is all glorious within,’ she repeated slowly, ‘her clothing is of wrought gold.’ Then she chanted in her clear, triumphant voice: —

‘“They have clean robes,
White robes;
White robes are waiting for me!”

‘Ah! little one, “the court dress of heaven differs somewhat from that of earth.”’

‘But, princess,’ said Muriel wistfully, ‘farm work and cooking and washing dishes over and over – it seems such drudgery.’

A great light broke over her face, and she cried in a low, exultant tone: —

‘“Blessed be Drudgery!” Christ bore it for thirty years, why should I mind for forty-nine? I have only to wait a little now for the “fulness of joy” and “pleasures for evermore.”’

Muriel threw her arms about her and kissed her softly.

‘Then our princess will be at home,’ she whispered, ‘in the Palace of the King.’