Claribel or, Rest at last

to what would be done with Madge, and she had been put to sleep in the little room for a night or two till it should be decided. Madge was fully alive to the dignity of having a room of her own, and felt herself quite able to take care of it. "There, now! You can say your verses nicely," said Claribel when the lesson was finished. "Take care you don't forget them." "And may I take the clothes off the bed and put the room in order?" asked Madge. Claribel, pleased with her enterprise, assented, and Madge was in the midst of the operation when Miss Reynolds opened the door. "Up and dressed already?" said she. "Claribel dressed me," said Madge, "and she has taught me my lessons besides." "I was up and dressed, and I thought I might as well dress Madge," said Claribel, in rather a tone of apology, for it occurred to her that Miss Reynolds might think her interfering. "I knew you were not well." "I am sure you are very kind, and I am much obliged to you," said poor Miss Reynolds, putting her hand to her head; "and now, Claribel, as they say one good turn deserves another, if you will sit in my place and attend to the child at breakfast, I will lie down again, for my head aches very badly." "And may I go to church with Claribel?" asked Madge. "Yes, if Mrs. Richardson is willing and you will be good. Now, remember you are Claribel's little girl and must mind her." It had not occurred to Claribel till she sat down to the table that in taking Miss Reynolds's place she had accepted the responsibility, not only of Madge, but also of helping the girls around her to beefsteak and potatoes. It was too late to draw back now, however, and she made out to acquit herself of the task without splashing the gravy or dropping any of the plates. Fanny was late, and excused herself by saying that Claribel had not called her. "You should not depend on Claribel to call you," said Mrs. Richardson. "I did call you, Fanny, before I went to dress Madge, but perhaps you did not hear me," said Claribel after breakfast. "You might just as well have stayed to help me as be taking care of Madge," said Fanny. "But 'new brooms sweep clean' with you." Three or four days passed, and still matters were not right between Claribel and Fanny. Fanny still spent most of her time in Priscilla's room, and carried her books thither to learn her lessons. She missed every day; and her exercises were so carelessly written that one day Mademoiselle declared she would not accept them at all. Then Fanny cried and said she couldn't help it,—that Claribel had quarrelled with her and wouldn't help her any more, and she couldn't do them alone, and she hadn't the right dictionary, and Claribel was always using hers; and how could she do her exercises unless she had books? "I suspect, Miss Fanny, that you have too many books, and those not of the right sort," said Mademoiselle. "If you will let novels and story-books alone, I fancy you will not suffer for lack of a dictionary." Fanny coloured scarlet and darted an angry glance at Claribel, as if she suspected her of telling. Claribel felt sure that her own ideas on the subject were correct, but she said nothing. She thought Fanny must take her own way. Miss Reynolds continued very unwell, and Claribel kept on with the care of little Madge, dressing her in the morning and putting her to bed at night, and seeing that she was ready for school. It was, of course, something of a task and confinement, for Madge must be in bed at eight o'clock, and Claribel was obliged to rise half an hour earlier than usual to find time for her own dressing and prayers in the morning. "I don't exactly see what we are to do with the child," said Mrs. Richardson one day. "Miss Reynolds—whom we miss so much in many ways—is too unwell to take any more care on herself, and Miss Emerson is not coming back this year." "Madge needs a good deal of care, too, she is such a delicate child," said Mrs. Herman. "I should very much dislike to send her home, both because there is nobody to care for her properly and because she is such a trouble to her mother. You cannot guess, by seeing her here, what a torment she is at home." "Why not let her keep on as she is?" asked Mrs. Herman. "Claribel is very kind to her." "She is indeed, but I feel as if it were too much to ask. Claribel is not strong; and though, as you say, she is kind to the child, she might not like to be confined all the time." Claribel overheard this conversation as she was studying in the library, and it set her seriously to thinking. She had wanted some work to do—something by which she might show her gratitude to her heavenly Father, who had done so much for her. She had been thinking of asking leave to take a little class in Sunday-school, but now the work seemed offered ready to her hand. She could do no more for Fanny except to pray for her, for Fanny seemed to resent any offer of help about her lessons as an interference. "And I must be doing for somebody," said Claribel to herself. "Unless I do, I shall be getting to thinking about myself just the same as ever. It will be a bother a great many times, but so is anything worth doing. Madge is fond of me, and minds me pretty well; and as to the trouble, I am sure I am better able to take it than poor Miss Reynolds. But then there is Fanny. Perhaps she won't like to have Madge in our room all the time. I must ask her." "I don't care. Yes, if you like," was Fanny's answer when Claribel consulted her. "It is annoying not to have that room to use for a closet; but as long as she is to be there, I suppose you might as well take the care of her as to have Miss Reynolds poking in all the time." "Claribel has always got to have somebody to patronize," was Priscilla's comment when it was generally known that Claribel had taken charge of the little girl. "I suppose she thinks Madge will be more manageable than Fanny." "Does thee always do things from such mean motives thyself, Priscilla?" asked Eva Church. "I don't know what you mean, Eva. I don't think I am meaner than other people." "It is only fair to suppose that thee judges others by thyself," answered Eva. "I didn't say there was anything mean about it," said Priscilla, as the other girls laughed; "I only said she liked somebody to patronize, and so she does. I have known Claribel all her life, and I think I can judge her better than you can. However, I don't want to say anything about her." "Then don't," said Tilly Mansfield. "Nobody wants you should." "It will be a great care for Claribel, but I think she likes that kind of care," remarked Percy. "That is just what I say—she likes it," persisted Priscilla; "and I don't see any such great amount of self-sacrifice or saintship in doing what one likes. Oh yes; I know you all think I am a heathen and all that. I don't set up for a saint, but I mean to be all that I pretend to be, at any rate. I am sure I don't want to run dawn Claribel, poor girl! And I don't see why I should be accused of it. She is my own cousin, and I want her to do as well as she can." "Nobody has accused you of it," said Tilly, "but you know very well that you never can hear Claribel praised without insinuating something against her. You always contrive to tell of something she has done at home, or to make out that she has some bad motive." "Oh, very well; you will find out for yourselves by and by, or I am mistaken." "I can't bear that girl!" broke out Tilly when Priscilla had gone. "I think she is just as disagreeable as she can be." "Tilly!" said Eva. "Well, I do. And I think she is just spoiling Fanny Morey. She isn't like the same girl she was a month ago." "She does not do Fanny any good, that is certain," remarked Percy. "She and Fanny and Rebecca are always getting away by themselves and whispering in corners and locking themselves into their rooms, and Fanny hardly ever has a decent lesson now-a-days. You will see she will be put back at the end of the term as sure as fate." "I know she will be in a worse scrape than that if she doesn't mind," said Tilly. "What makes thee think so?" asked Eva. "She and Rebecca have run away and gone down town two or three times," said Tilly. "Mrs. Griggs saw them down at Sawyer's buying candy and novels. What do you think Mrs. Richardson would say if she knew that?" "At Sawyer's!" repeated Percy. "Oh, Tilly, I can't believe it. You know what Mr. Hausen said." "I couldn't believe it when Mrs. Griggs told me," said Tilly, "but she described the girls exactly—Fanny's long light hair and black eyes, and Priscilla's plaid dress and hair put up over a cushion. And besides that, Mrs. Griggs watched them, and she saw them go round the back way and through our orchard, and get over the fence. They had two or three parcels of books—pamphlets, you know—and a great bag of candy." "I almost wish Mrs. Griggs would tell Uncle Hausen," said Emma. "Not, of course, that I want the girls to get into trouble, but I think he ought to know. Just think what people will say in the village, and what a thing for the girls themselves! I heard Dr. Benedict and my grandfather talking about Sawyer's place, and they said it was a disgrace to the village and ought to be broken up. I am sure it must be all Priscilla's doing. Fanny never would have thought of such a thing." "Fanny might not, but I am not so sure of Rebecca," said Eva. "Rebecca likes mysteries. But I am very sorry about it." "Well, we can't do anything," said Percy. "Anyhow, I am glad Claribel has got Madge to comfort her. She is a cunning, queer little thing, and I dare say they will get on nicely together." It seemed that Percy's prophecy was likely to be realized. Claribel found Madge tolerably docile, and Madge found Claribel very patient and indulgent, though sufficiently firm in requiring obedience. Madge had suffered from pain in the head early in her little life, and it was not considered expedient to burden her with lessons. Perhaps for this very reason she was anxious to learn to read and write, and Mrs. Richardson finally told her that if Claribel liked to teach her, she might have a reading lesson of ten minutes, twice every day. "Do you really suppose she can learn—that is learn so as to remember—anything from reading as long as that—only ten minutes at a time?" asked Claribel. "I think she will," answered Mrs. Richardson; "I think you will find her making very respectable progress, but then you must be thorough and insist on her working while she does work. If the experiment does not answer, you can give it up, you know." The experiment was tried and found to answer very well. Claribel showed a remarkable "aptness to teach," and Madge was equally ready to learn. At the end of a month, the little girl could read in words of three or four letters. She was devoted to her lessons, and inconsolable if anything happened to interrupt them. "If you are not good, I can't hear your lessons," was Claribel's severest threat. And she rarely had to put it into execution. One day, however, it happened that Madge was decidedly naughty. She had got up in a bad humour, and everything went wrong. She cried at being dressed, behaved badly at the table, and ended by taking Claribel's gold pen and scribbling all over her exercise-book. She would not say she was sorry, and was so perverse about it that at last Claribel said: "Very well, I see I shall not have any little scholar to-day." Madge turned her head and said she did not care; but at lesson time, she came with her book, as usual. "No," said Claribel; "I am very sorry: but you know I told you I should not hear your lesson because you were so naughty. I must keep my word.