Bessie among the Mountains

"Surely," said John.

"And you wouldn't like to be sick at all, would you, John?"

"Not one bit," said John. "I'd scarce know myself, for I never was sick in my life, that I remember."

"Then I s'pose you feel very thankful for it, and as if you'd like to help make sick people as well as you are; don't you?" said Bessie.

"Guess I wouldn't make much hand at that," answered John.

"But you are big and strong, John."

"Yes, I'm big and strong enough; but it takes more than that to make a good nurse. If it came in my way to do a good turn for a sick body, and there was no one else to do it, why I'd lend a hand; but I don't know as they'd thank me for it."

"Oh yes they would, John," said Maggie, eagerly; "if I was sick and had no one to take care of me, and you came to do it, I'd thank you ever so much."

"Well, I'll do it when you come to that pass," said John, without the least idea what the little girls were driving at.

"He don't seem to understand yet," whispered Maggie to her sister; "try him with the 'Golden Rule.'"

"John," said Bessie, "are you not very fond of doing as you would be done by?"

"As fond as most folks, I guess," said John. "'Gee, there! gee, Whitefoot!"

Bessie waited till they had passed through the gate of the orchard, then began again.

"John, if there was a chance to do as you would be done by, and you did not think of it, would you like some one to tell you of it?"

John looked round at her and laughed.

"If there's any thing you want me to do for you, out with it. It's no good beating about the bush. You know I always like to do for you what I can."

"Yes: you are very good to us," said Bessie; "but it was not us: it was Dolly. Don't you think it would be doing as you would be done by to go and take care of her to-night?"

"Whew! that's it, is it?" said John. "Maybe it would be; but that would be a good thing to see me taking care of Dolly Owen;" and John laughed loud and long.

Bessie was displeased, and drew herself up with a little dignified air.

"I don't think he is coaxed a bit," she whispered; "he is very hard-hearted."

"No," said Maggie: "I don't believe he is the kind to be coaxed."

"Then I'll have to be a little strict with him, and show him it's his duty," said Bessie, in the same tone.

"Yes, to let him see he ought to do it, whether he likes it or not," said Maggie; "maybe he's never been taught that."

"John," said Bessie, folding her little hands gravely in her lap, and trying to look sternly at the young man, "perhaps you don't know that if we know we ought to do a thing and don't do it, our Father is not very pleased with us."

"May be so," said John; "but I don't feel it's my duty to go and take care of Dolly."

"Whose duty is it, then?" asked Bessie.

"Not any one's that's likely to do it, I guess."

Bessie was in despair, but she thought she would try a little more severity.

"John," she said, "when you are poor and ragged, and sick and bad, I hope some one will have pity of you, and go take care of you."

"I hope so too; but I don't feel there's any call on me to go and look after that thieving beggar, nor for you to trouble yourselves about her, after all she's done to you," answered John.

"John," said Bessie, solemnly, "I'm afraid we don't think you quite so very nice as we did this morning; and I'm afraid you are one of those to whom our Lord will say, 'I was sick, and ye visited me not.'"

But John was only amused at her displeasure, and laughed aloud again.

Neither of the children spoke till they reached the barn, when John came to the side of the cart and lifted them down.

"Well, you are just two of the funniest, forgivingest little things," he said, as he put Bessie on her feet.

Bessie deigned no answer; but with an air of great displeasure turned away, and stood at a little distance with Maggie, watching the men pitch the sheaves up into the loft.

"Are you going back with me?" asked John, when he was ready to start for the harvest-field again.

"No," Bessie answered, rather shortly.

"Why, you're not offended with me, are you?" said John, "and all along of that ragamuffin up there."

"We're displeased with you," said Bessie. "It's right to be displeased with people when you tell them what is right, and they don't do it; but if you're going to repent, we'll forgive you."

John answered with another "ha-ha."

"Well, no," he said; "I don't think I'm ready for repentance in that line yet. I hope I'll never do any thing worse than refusing to take care of a sick beggar."

"I hope so too," said Bessie, reprovingly. "That's quite worse enough," and she and Maggie walked out of the farmyard, and turned into the lane which led up to the house.

"Hallo!" John called out, mischievously; "if you feel so bad about Dolly, why don't you ask your father or uncle to go up and see after her?"

Neither of the little girls turned their heads, but walked straight on in the most dignified silence, followed by the sound of John's merriment.

"That's a little too much," said Maggie, when they were beyond hearing; "idea of papa or Uncle Ruthven staying all night in that dirty place!"

Bessie did not like the idea either, but her little head was puzzled. If she thought it right for John Porter to go, ought she not to think it right for her papa or uncle? She did not at all thank John for putting the thought into her head: it was fresh cause of offence against him; but now that it was there, she could not shut it out.

"Maggie," she said, "I wonder if we ought not to put it into papa's or Uncle Ruthven's mind?"

"Pooh! no," said Maggie; "they've sense enough to think it out for themselves if they ought to go: but I don't think John Porter is very sensible; do you?"

"I guess I won't say he's unsensible just now," said Bessie. "I'm 'fraid I feel 'most too mad."

"What difference does that make?" asked Maggie.