Mamie's Watchword

"Let's take one without asking her then," said Mabel. "We can put it back all safe, and she'll never know it."

"That would be very naughty, though," said Belle.

"And God would see, if Mrs. Clark didn't," said Mamie. "Mabel, you forget 'the eyes of the Lord are in every place.'"

"See here," said Lily, who had just put the last stone upon the miniature pier, and then plumped herself down upon the rock beside Belle, – "see here, Mamie; it seems to me you're getting rather intimate with the Lord."

"I'm not," said Mamie resentfully; for she had felt rather grand when she made her speech to Mabel, and did not like to have her weapons turned upon herself. "We ought to remember God sees us all the time."

"Course we ought," returned Lily; "but then I don't b'lieve it's proper to talk about it in that familiar kind of a way – so – so – well, I don't know exactly how to tell it, but as if the Lord was not any thing so very great, you know," and Lily's voice took a graver tone. "He hears us all the time, too, and we ought to be a little careful how we speak about Him in our play."

"He sees us and hears us now, just this very minute; don't He?" said Belle thoughtfully.

A moment's silence fell upon the little group as to one and all came the solemn recollection of the Almighty presence here among them; a silence broken, of course, by Lily, who, turning again to Mamie, said, "It's very nice of you, Mamie, certainly, to try to remember that text of yours all the time; but then I mean we ought to think a little more soberly, and speak a little more piously about it; or it's not likely to do us much good. Now let's play."

The proposed play was successfully carried out, both Lily and Belle being careful to avoid looking at Mamie during its performance lest she should guess that it was intended expressly for her benefit, take offence, and so fail to profit by it.

Nevertheless, Mamie had her own doubts on the subject; and, as the play progressed, withdrew from any active share in it, sitting down and watching the others with a solemn countenance.

The truth was that her conscience was not at rest; not that she planned any deliberate disobedience, but she knew that she was cherishing rebellious and undutiful feelings in her heart, because she would not make up her mind to give up, without farther murmuring and teasing, the pleasure her mother had forbidden.

The oft-shipwrecked and oft-rescued rag dolls, now in a most distressed and bedraggled condition, as became their various misfortunes, were supposed to be a family of children seized with an uncontrollable desire to go upon the breakwater in spite of the commands of their parents that they should keep away from it. One after another yielded to the temptation, and all met with the most disastrous fates. Two were swept away by an uncommonly high wave sent for the purpose, and, as they were carried into the depths of the sea, raised pitiful voices to their comrades, crying, "Be warned by us! depart from disobedience, and be warned by us!" A part of the pier gave way with others, precipitating them into the briny deep; another child fell through a hole, and became wedged in between the stones, "where she had to stay all the rest of her life, and grew up there, but never got out, and had a horrid time." In short, some terrible but well-deserved catastrophe overtook each one, till the whole family were destroyed.

"That's not a bit real," said Mamie, in a tone of great dissatisfaction, when the last survivor had been disposed of. "I know children don't usually be drowned and squeezed up in stones just because they go on breakwaters."

"No," said Belle, "not usually; but then they might be, you know. Accidents sometimes happen, 'specially if people don't mind."

"Children don't usually be ate up by bears," said Lily; "but the Elisha children were; and I don't s'pose they expected the bears at all. So that shows punishments may come to us that we never thought about, besides the punishment of a very bad conscience."

Lily had said "we" and "us" lest Mamie should feel that she intended a particular thrust at her; but as she spoke the last words, she could not refrain from giving a sidelong glance to see if her moral lesson were taking a proper effect, and Mamie caught it, and it increased her suspicion that she was to receive a reproof and warning under this friendly disguise.

"I just believe Lily does mean that play for me," she said to herself, "and she has no right to. I wish she'd mind her own business." Then, rising and moving away with a very superb air, she said aloud, "That's a very foolish, tiresome play, and I shan't stay to see any more of it."

"Oh! it's done," said Lily; "the disobedient children are all used up. We'll fish them out now, and lay them in the sun to dry. I do wish we could have some of the ducklings here; it would be such fun."

Other people were now beginning to flock down to the rocks, for this was the favorite resort in the afternoons; and numerous groups were to be seen, scattered here and there, in such convenient resting-places as they might find, watching the breaking of the waves, and all the mingled beauties of sea and sky. Among them came Mr. Powers, Mr. and Mrs. Norris, Mrs. Stone and the little Gordons' mother; and Mr. Norris asked if there were not a cluster of "Sunbeams" who would like to shed the light of their rays upon "Indian Rock."

Yes, indeed! Lily had painted the glories of "Indian Rock" in such glowing terms, that they were only too eager to accept the invitation; and with the help of many a lift, pull, and push from the strong arms of the gentlemen, the whole party, great and small, were soon landed on that enchanting spot. For there each one of the children had been forbidden to venture, unless in company with some older and experienced person; and their nurses had been told not to lead them there. For "Indian Rock" was a dangerous spot, unless one trod it with care, or had the guidance and support of a strong, firm hand.

"Papa," said Mamie, as her father helped her up to the top of a slippery ledge, "I'm sure I do not think the breakwater could be more dangerous than this, and I don't see why you could not let me go there just as well as here. Lily's mamma lets her go there with only Nora or Tom, and I'm sure I don't see why I can't."

Much to Mamie's surprise, and somewhat to her alarm, her father now spoke quite sternly to her, bidding her put all thought of the breakwater out of her head, since, dangerous or not, her mother was afraid to have her go there, and his word had been passed that she should not be allowed to do so.

After this, she dared say no more; but still she silently fretted and murmured, and thought herself hardly used, thereby losing half her pleasure in the beautiful scene before her.

It was two or three days before any of the children came down to play in their pool again. Other pleasures took up their time and attention; but, at last, one bright, sunny afternoon, it was proposed to go.

When the hour arrived, however, Lily and Belle were invited to go for a drive and a visit to the light-house; and the juvenile party was reduced to four. Lily kindly lent her ships and boats, and a new supply of unhappy passengers had been provided; but these did not satisfy Mabel, who, since the day on which she had first seen the ducklings, had never ceased to wish that she could see them swim.

"You've been here the longest; would you mind asking Mrs. Clark to lend us one of the ducklings to take down to the Rocks this afternoon?" she said to Lily, as the latter, ready dressed for the drive, stood upon the piazza, waiting for the carriage.

"I should think I would mind!" exclaimed Lily. "I would not do it for any thing. Why, Mabel, she's the crossest old thing that ever lived. This morning when I came up from the bath, I asked her for a ginger-cake, and she told me I was always stuffing! Stuffing! Such a horrid word to say! And besides, it's not true. I'm not eating all the time, and mamma gave me leave to ask for the cake."

"Didn't she give it to you?" asked Mabel.

"Oh, yes, she gave me a whole plateful; at least, she was going to; but you don't think I was going to take them after that! No, indeedy!"

"But I don't want her to give us a duckling, only to lend us one to swim it down in our pool," said Mabel. "Wouldn't you dare to ask her?"

"I'd dare enough," answered Lily, who seldom confessed to dread of living thing, unless it were a horse; "but I know it would be of no use; and I never ask people for things when I'm sure they don't want to give them to me. Here's the carriage."

This was not Mabel's doctrine. Like Mamie Stone, she had a great deal of faith in fretting or worrying for that which other people did not wish to grant, knowing from experience that she often, by this means, gained her point.

Having seen Belle and Lily off, she sauntered out to the back lot where the chickens and ducks were kept, and stood looking at the ducklings with a growing desire to have one to play with. Should she go and ask Mrs. Clark?

Before she had fully made up her mind to do so, the woman herself came around the corner of the house, and the next moment her loud, sharp voice struck disagreeably on Mabel's ear, and put all thoughts of asking a favor from her quite out of the little girl's mind.

"Now look here! What are you about there? You let them chickens alone, and go round to your own side of the house. I don't want the boarders' children meddling round here."

Such was the greeting which Mabel received; not very encouraging certainly, and she moved away with a scowl at Mrs. Clark which did not make her look much more amiable than the loud-voiced scold herself.

"I wasn't touching your old chickens," she called out as soon as she thought herself at a safe distance.

But, instead of going back to the house, she walked on to the end of the lot where it was divided from the next field by a row of currant bushes and a stone wall. Walking along by the bushes, without any particular purpose, and thinking it was time for her to go and see if the other children were ready for the walk to the Rocks, she heard a curious little noise among the bushes.

Stooping down and peering in at the spot whence it seemed to come, she saw one of the ducklings lying on the ground, and making the faint sound which had attracted her attention.

"I wonder how it came here, so far from its hen-mother and the other ducklings," she said to herself. "I could take it up now if I liked, and carry it to the Rocks, and neither the hen nor Mrs. Clark could see me."

The temptation was strong. Mrs. Clark had vanished into the house; and the next moment Mabel had the duckling in her hand, hand and bird both hidden beneath the little overskirt of her dress, and she was running rapidly out of the gate which opened on a cross road by the side of the house.

Then she heard Alice and Julia Gordon calling her.

"Mabel! Where are you, Mabel? We are ready to go;" and Nanette's voice, "Ou êtes-vous donc, Mademoiselle?" and although she had no intention of keeping her prize a secret, it was with a half-guilty feeling that she went forward and joined them, still keeping her hand hidden beneath her overskirt. She would let the other children see what she had there when they reached the rocks, but not now.

But she was not allowed to keep her secret so long; for as they were walking along the path which lay above the cliffs, Julia Gordon said, —

"What do you keep your hand under your skirt for, Mabel?"

Mabel looked around before she answered. She had tried to persuade herself that she had done nothing wrong in "borrowing" the duckling for an afternoon's play, since no one had told her she was not to have it; but, nevertheless, she felt rather doubtful of what the nurses would say when they knew what she had there.

The three women in charge of the little party had fallen somewhat behind; and Mamie, having taken it into her head to draw the wagon in which Lulu was seated, was also with them, and out of hearing for the moment, if she lowered her voice.

"Don't tell if I tell you something," said Mabel, in answer to Julia's question, and speaking to both her and Alice.

"No, what is it?"

"You and Alice come close, one on each side of me," said Mabel. "I don't want any one else to know it till we are at the pool." Then, as her companions obeyed, full of eager curiosity, "It's a duckling; one of the new little ducklings that have the hen for a mother; and we'll swim it in the pool."