Mildred Keith

"Why, mother?" queried the self-constituted jailor.

"Because it is very dangerous. Your little sister might have been frightened into a fit or have died for want of air to breathe."

Cyril's eyes dilated, then filled with tears as he seemed to see the little sister he loved so dearly lying before him white and cold and dead.

"I won't ever, ever do it again," he said tremulously.

"No, you must be Fan's big brave brother that she can trust to take care of her and shield her from harm. I don't believe my Cyril would be such a mean coward as to hurt a little girl or anything smaller or weaker than himself, except for that naughty 'didn't think!'"

"But I didn't hurt her, mother."

"Yes, my son, you hurt her feelings very much."

He considered a moment. "Yes, I s'pose that's so," he said slowly, "Fan, I'll tell you; I'm real sorry; and you may be jailor now and lock me up in that wardrobe."

"No, no! there must be no more such doings," quickly interposed mamma.

"Dess I wouldn't do such sing!" said Fan, wiping away her tears with her chubby little hand.

"What a room!" said Mildred, shutting the last bureau drawer and turning to look about her; "every chair out of place and turned on its side, the bed all tumbled and bits of paper scattered over the carpet."

"Pick them up, children, and try to keep out of mischief for the rest of the day. I must go back to my sewing," Mrs. Keith said, following her aunt, who had already left the room.

Mildred staid behind to assist in setting it to rights.

"You naughty children! really I could almost enjoy spanking you all round," she exclaimed directly, as she came upon the fragments of a delicate china vase belonging to herself, and a valued letter from a friend torn into bits.

"Milly," said Cyril solemnly, "s'pose we should get deaded some day; wouldn't you be sorry?"

"Suppose I should get deaded," she retorted, "wouldn't you be sorry for spoiling my pretty things?"

She was ashamed of her outburst nevertheless, and the child's words haunted her all the afternoon.

It was evening; two candles burned on the sitting-room table, and beside it sat Mildred and her mother still busily plying their needles.

The rest of the family were in bed and Miss Stanhope and the seamstress had gone to their own homes hours ago.

"My child, put up your work for to-night," said Mrs. Keith; "You are looking weary and depressed; and no wonder, for you have had a hard day."

"A busy day, mother; but not so hard as yours, because I have had a walk in the fresh air while you have been stitch, stitching from early morning till now. And if you don't forbid it I shall sit up and work as long as you do. I consider it one of the eldest daughter's privileges to share her mother's burdens."

"My dear girl! you are a comfort to me! I thank God for you every day," the mother said, looking at her with dewy eyes and a beautiful smile, "but because you are young and growing, you need more rest and sleep than I do. So go, daughter, and never mind leaving me."

"Mayn't I stay a little longer," pleaded the girl, "I want one of our nice confidential talks. O mother, I am so disgusted with myself! I was very angry with Cyril and Don to-day when I found they'd broken that vase I valued so because you gave it to me as a birthday present; and it was so pretty too – and torn up that sweet letter dear Miss Grey wrote me just before she died."

"Indeed! I didn't know they had done such damage and I am very sorry for your loss, dear!"

"Yes, mother, I knew you would be; my loss of temper, though, was worse than all. I do wish I knew how you contrive always to be so patient."

"I'm afraid it's very often all on the outside," the mother answered with a slight smile. "But I find it a great help in bearing patiently with the little every day worries, to think of them as sent, or permitted, by my best Friend – One who never makes a mistake – for my growth in grace; for you know we grow strong by resistance."

"Well, mother, I am constantly resolving that I will not give way to my temper, and yet I keep on doing so; and I grow so discouraged and so disgusted with myself. What shall I do?"

"My child, watch and pray. Our sufficiency is of God. He is our strength. And do not look at yourself; try to forget self altogether in 'looking unto Jesus;' get your mind and heart full of his lovely image, so full that there will be no room in it for aught else; and thus shall you grow into His likeness."

Mildred's eyes shone as she looked up into her mother's earnest face.

"I am sure that must be the way," she said, low and feelingly, "and I will try it; for I do long to be like Him, mother; for He is indeed to me, 'the chiefest among ten thousand and the one altogether lovely!'"

"Oh, how good He is to me!" ejaculated the mother, glad tears shining in her eyes: "that you might learn thus to know and love Him has been the burden of my prayer for you – for each of my dear children – since they first saw the light."

They worked on in silence for some minutes, then Mildred seeing a smile playing about her mother's lips, asked what was the thought that provoked it.

"A reminiscence of some of your infantile pranks," her mother answered laughing. "You should be forbearing with your little brother and sisters for you were fully as mischievous as they are.

"Before you could walk I caught you one day seated in the middle of the table set for tea, your hand in the sugar bowl, your mouth full and your face well besmeared.

"You were a great climber and it was difficult to keep anything out of your way; and as soon as Rupert could creep he followed you into danger and mischief; pulling things about, breaking, tearing, cutting, climbing fences and trees, and even getting out of windows on to roofs.

"Besides, you had a perfect mania for tasting everything that could possibly be eaten or drunk – soap, candles, camphor, lye, medicines whatever you could lay your hands on – till I was in constant fear for your lives."

"You poor, dear mother, what a time you must have had with us!" exclaimed the girl. "We can never hope to repay you for your patient love and care."

"My child, I have always felt that my darlings paid for their trouble as they went along; their love has always been so sweet to me," Mrs. Keith answered, cheerily. "And I can not tell you how much I enjoy the sweet society and confidence of my eldest daughter – the knowledge that she has no secrets from me."

"I have not, indeed," Mildred said, heartily, "as why should I? knowing as I do that my mother is my best and wisest, as well as dearest earthly friend."

Then recalling the events of the morning she gave a laughing account of her interview with Spencer Hall.

"If I could contemplate the possibility of leaving you behind it would certainly not be in his care," her mother said, joining in her merriment, "and I am glad you have sense enough not to fancy him."

"Truly I do not in the least; though many of the girls consider him a great catch because of his father's wealth," said Mildred. "But really I don't believe he meant anything, and I felt like showing him that I understood that very well and resented his trifling; and wouldn't have been much better pleased if he had been in earnest."

Chapter Fourth

"And, like some low and mournful spell,
To whisper but one word – farewell."

    – Park Benjamin.
One sweet June morning an expectant group gathered in the shade of the vine-wreathed porch of Miss Stanhope's pretty cottage. It consisted of that good lady herself Mr. and Mrs. Keith and their eight children, all attired in neat traveling costume, and awaiting the coming of the stage coach which was to carry them the first step of their journey – to the nearest town situate on the Ohio and Erie Canal.

Mr. and Mrs. Park, the new occupants of the cottage, were there too, and a few old neighbors and friends who had run in for a last good-bye.

Mrs. Keith and Mildred turned now and then, a tearful lingering look upon their deserted home and this other which was equally familiar, almost equally dear; Miss Stanhope seemed to have some ado to control her feelings of sadness and anxiety for the future; but Mr. Keith was in fine spirits in which the children evidently shared very largely.

Eager to be off, they moved restlessly about asking again and again, "When will the stage come?" and kept sending out reconnoitering parties to see if there were any signs of its approach.

At length they espied it and announced the fact with joyful exclamations as its four prancing steeds came sweeping around the corner and, swaying and rolling, it dashed up to the gate.