Bessie and Her Friends

Bessie made no answer, for she felt rather angry, and, fearing she might say something naughty, she wisely held her tongue; and slipping from her uncle's hold, she slid to his knee, and from that to the floor, running away to Aunt Bessie for refuge.

After the children had gone to bed, Uncle Ruthven went up to Mrs. Bradford's room, that he might have a quiet talk with this his favorite sister. Mrs. Bradford was rocking her baby to sleep, which business was rather a serious one, for not the least talking or moving about could go on in the room but this very young lady must have a share in it. The long lashes were just drooping upon the round, dimpled cheek when Uncle Ruthven's step was heard.

"Ah-oo-oo," said the little wide-awake, starting up with a crow of welcome to the playfellow she liked so well.

Mamma laid the little head down again, and held up a warning finger to Uncle Ruthven, who stole softly to a corner, where he was out of Miss Baby's sight and hearing, to wait till she should be fairly off to dreamland. This brought him near the door of Maggie's and Bessie's room, where, without intending it, he heard them talking. Not hearing his voice, they thought he had gone away again, and presently Maggie said in a low tone, that she might not rouse baby, "Bessie, have you objections to Uncle Ruthven?"

"Yes," answered Bessie, slowly, – "yes, Maggie, I think I have. I try not to, but I'm 'fraid I do have a little objections to him."

"But why?" asked Maggie. "I think he is lovely."

"I don't know," said Bessie. "But, Maggie, don't you think he makes pretty intimate?"

"Why, yes," said Maggie; "but then he's our uncle, you know. I guess he has a right if he has a mind to."

"But he makes more intimate than Uncle John, and we've known him ever so long, and Uncle Yuthven only a little while. Why, Maggie, he kisses mamma!"

"Well, he is her own brother," said Maggie, "and Uncle John is only her step-brother, – no, that's not it – her brother-of-law – that's it."

"What does that mean, Maggie?"

"It means when somebody goes and marries your sister. If somebody married me, he'd be your brother-of-law."

"He sha'n't!" said Bessie, quite excited. "He's a horrid old thing, and he sha'n't do it!"

"Who sha'n't do what?" asked Maggie, rather puzzled.

"That person, that brother-of-law; he sha'n't marry you; you are my own Maggie."

"Well, he needn't if you don't want him to," said Maggie, quite as well contented to settle it one way as the other. "And you needn't feel so bad, and sit up in bed about it, Bessie, 'cause you'll take cold, and mamma forbid it."

"So she did," said Bessie, lying down again with a sigh. "Maggie, I'm 'fraid I'm naughty to-night. I forgot what mamma told me, and I was naughty to Uncle Yuthven."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, but I felt very passionate, and I thought naughty things, – how I'd like to give him a good slap when he teased me, and, Maggie, for a moment I 'most thought I wished he did not come home. I am going to tell him I'm sorry, the next time he comes."

"I wouldn't," said Maggie, who was never as ready as Bessie to acknowledge that she had been wrong; "not if I didn't do or say anything."

"I would," said Bessie. "It is naughty to feel so; and you know there's no 'scuse for me to be passionate like there was for Aunt Patty, 'cause my people are so very wise, and teach me better. And it grieves Jesus when we feel naughty, and he saw my naughty heart to-night."

"Then ask him to forgive you," said Maggie.

"So I did; but I think he'll know I want to be better if I ask Uncle Yuthven too."

"Well," said Maggie, "maybe he will. But, Bessie, why do you speak about yourself as if you are like Aunt Patty. You're not a bit like her."

"But I might be, if I wasn't teached better," said Bessie, "and if Jesus didn't help me. Poor Aunt Patty! Papa said she was to be pitied."

"I sha'n't pity her, I know," said Maggie.

"But, Maggie, mamma said we ought to try and feel kind to her, and to be patient and good to her when she came here, 'cause she's getting very old, and there's nobody to love her, or take care of her. I am 'fraid of her, but I am sorry for her."

"If she has nobody to take care of her, let her go to the Orphan Asylum," said Maggie. "I just hope papa will send her there, 'cause we don't want to be bothered with her."

"And don't you feel a bit sorry for her, Maggie?"

"No, not a bit; and I'm not going to, either. She is quite a disgrace to herself, and so she'd better stay at her house up in the mountains."

Maggie, in her turn, was growing quite excited, as she always did when she talked or thought of Aunt Patty. It was some time since the children had done either, for Christmas, Aunt Bessie, and Uncle Ruthven had given them so much else to think about, that they had almost forgotten there was such a person.

And now mamma, who had laid baby in her cradle, coming in to stop the talking, was sorry to hear her little girls speaking on the old, disagreeable subject. She told them they must be still, and go to sleep. The first command was obeyed at once, but Maggie did not find the second quite so easy; and she lay awake for some time imagining all kinds of possible and impossible quarrels with Aunt Patty, and inventing a chapter about her for "The Complete Family."

While little Maggie was thinking thus of Aunt Patty, the old lady, in her far-away home, was wondering how she might best contrive to gain the hearts of her young nieces and nephews, for she was not the same woman she had been four years ago. During the last few months a new knowledge and a new life had come to her, making her wish to live in peace and love with every one. But she did not know how to set about this; for the poor lady had grown old in the indulgence of a bad temper, a proud spirit, and a habit of desiring to rule all about her; and now it was not easy to change all this. She had humbled herself at the feet of her Lord and Saviour, but it was hard work to do it before her fellow-men. She could not quite resolve to say to those whom she had grieved and offended by her violence and self-will, "I have done wrong, but now I see my sin, and wish, with God's help, to lead a new life."

Still, she longed for the love and friendship she had once cast from her, and her lonely heart craved for some care and affection. She well knew that Mr. and Mrs. Bradford would be only too ready to forgive and forget all that was disagreeable in the past, and she also felt that they would do nothing to prejudice the minds of their children against her. She thought she would go to them, and try to be gentle and loving, and so perhaps she should win back their hearts, and gain those of their little ones. But old habit and the old pride were still strong within her, and so, when she wrote to Mr. Bradford to say she was coming to make them a visit, she gave no sign that she was sorry for the past, and would like to make amends.

But shortly before the time she had fixed for the visit, something happened which caused her to change her purpose, and she chose to say nothing of her reasons for this, only sending word that she could not come before spring, perhaps not then. Now, again she had altered her plans, and this time she chose to take them all by surprise, and to go to Mr. Bradford's without warning.

"Margaret," said Mr. Stanton softly, as his sister came from the bedside of her little girls, and they went to the other side of the room, "what a sensitive conscience your darling little Bessie has! It seems I vexed her to-night, though I had no thought of doing so. I saw she was displeased, but the feeling seemed to pass in a moment. Now I find that she is so penitent for indulging in even a wrong feeling that she cannot rest satisfied without asking pardon, not only of her heavenly Father, but also of me." And he told Mrs. Bradford of all he had heard the children say, with some amusement, as he repeated the conversation about himself.

"Yes," said Mrs. Bradford, "my dear little Bessie's quick temper gives her some trouble. I am often touched to see her silent struggles with herself when something tries it, how she forces back each angry word and look, and faithfully asks for the help which she knows will never fail her. But with that tender conscience, and her simple trust in Him who has redeemed her, I believe all the strength she needs will be granted. God only knows how thankful I am that he has thus early led my precious child to see the sin and evil of a passionate and unchecked temper, and so spared her and hers the misery which I have seen it cause to others."

Uncle Ruthven came in the next morning, and, as usual, "making intimate," ran up to mamma's room. She was not there; but Maggie and Bessie were, busy over "The Complete Family." But Maggie did not look at all as if she belonged to the Happys just then. She had composed, what she thought, a very interesting chapter about Aunt Patty, and commenced it in this way: "There came to the Happys a very great aflekshun." But when she had written this last word, she had her doubts about the spelling, and carried the book to mamma to see if it were right. Mamma inquired what the affliction was, and finding, as she supposed, that it was Aunt Patty, she told Maggie she did not wish her to write about her. Maggie was very much disappointed, and even pouted a little, and she had not quite recovered when her uncle came in. In his hand he carried a little basket of flowers, which the children supposed was for mamma, and which he stood upon the table. Bessie loved flowers dearly, and in a moment she was hanging over them, and enjoying their sweetness.

Uncle Ruthven asked what they were about, and to Bessie's surprise, Maggie took him at once into the secret, telling him all about "The Complete Family" and her present trouble. Uncle Ruthven quite agreed with mamma that it was not wisest and best to write anything unkind of Aunt Patty, and told Maggie of some very pleasant things she might relate, so that presently she was smiling and good-natured again.

Then Mr. Stanton took Bessie up in his arms. "Bessie," he said, "did I vex you a little last night?"

Bessie colored all over, but looking her uncle steadily in the eyes, answered, "Yes, sir; and I am sorry I felt so naughty."

"Nay," said Uncle Ruthven, smiling, "if I teased you, although I did not intend it, I am the one to beg pardon."

"But I was pretty mad, uncle, and I felt as if I wanted to be naughty. I think I ought to be sorry."

"As you please then, darling; we will forgive one another. And now would you like this little peace-offering from Uncle Ruthven?" and he took up the basket of flowers.

"Is that for me?" asked Bessie, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes. I thought perhaps I had hurt your feelings last night, and so I brought it to you that you might see I was sorry."

"But I could believe you without that."

Bessie felt reproached that she had told Maggie she had "objections to Uncle Ruthven," and now she felt as if they had all flown away.

"Perhaps you could," said Uncle Ruthven, smiling as he kissed her; "but the flowers are your own to do with as you please. And now you must remember that I am not much accustomed to little girls, and do not always know what they like and what they do not like; so you must take pity on the poor traveller, if he makes a mistake now and then, and believe he always wishes to please you and make you love him as far as he knows how."

VII