Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER V.

  JESSIE'S TRUTH.

  On the day appointed, Harriet and I went over by Miss Bennett's request,to see the prize delivered to her who should be found to deserve it. Alamb had been chosen by Mr. Mackay, and without telling Mary any thingof it, he had had a small silver collar engraved, "reward of merit."After the lamb had been washed as white as snow, this had been put onit, and a blue riband tied to the collar by which the lamb might be led,so that Jessie, should she win it, would have no difficulty in gettingit home. As I entered my brother's house, I met Jessie and Mary in thepiazza. Mary was talking very earnestly, and I heard her say, "There isyour box, Jessie. Don't open it till you give it to papa."

  "But I must open it, Mary. I want to divide the cards, so as not to giveMr. Mackay much trouble."

  "Nonsense, Jessie--what does papa care for trouble? You must _not_ openit, I tell you. I have counted the cards, and you will have the lamb."

  "Mary, how can you laugh at me so? You know that I cannot get it."

  At this moment Mary was called away by her mother. I had watched herclosely, and I thought I could see some roguery in the demure smilewhich played around her mouth, in spite of her evident efforts to beserious. As soon as she was out of sight, Jessie seated herself on thesteps and took out her tickets. They were already made into parcels, andI saw her turn her eyes with a wondering look from one to theother,--then she loosed the string which tied each parcel together,counted them rapidly, and then, dropping them into the box, said, "Whatdoes this mean?"

  I began to be quite interested in this little mystery, of which Isuspected Mary knew more than anybody else, so when I went into theschoolroom, I took my seat at a window, the sash of which was raised,and which overlooked the piazza, and kept my eye on Jessie. I wasscarcely seated before Mary ran up to her. As soon as she was nearenough to see the box opened and the cards loosed, she cried out in avexed tone, "And so, Jessie, you would open the box after all?"

  "Oh, Mary!" said Jessie, "it is the strangest thing--my blank cards arealmost all gone, and here are a great many more merit cards than I had.Where can they come from?"

  Mary seemed very much amused, and said, "Why, Jessie, I think a goodfairy must have put them there."

  Jessie looked up into her laughing face for a moment, and then said,"Now, Mary, I know how it came--you put them there just to tease me.Make haste and let us get them right before they call us. I ought tohave ten merit cards and four blanks, and here are only two blanks andseventeen merit cards. Take yours, Mary, and give me mine--quick--beforeMiss Bennett calls us."

  As she spoke, she held out the box, but Mary stepped back, saying verypositively, "Indeed, Jessie, I will not do any such thing."

  Jessie looked at her a moment, and seeing by her countenance that shewas resolved not to do it, turned round, saying, "Well, I must go andtell your father just how it is."

  She went towards the door, but before she reached it, Mary caught herand drew her back, saying, as she did so, "Jessie, if you say a word tomy father or Miss Bennett or anybody about it, I will never play withyou again or love you, as long as I live."

  Her face was red, and she spoke in a very angry tone.

  "Oh! don't talk so, Mary," said Jessie, "please don't talk so. You wouldnot have me tell your father a story, and it would be just like tellinghim a story if I gave him your cards for mine."

  "You need not give them to him," said Mary, "I will do it myself, andAunt Kitty said it would not be any harm in me to do it. I told you thatyou would have the lamb, and I am determined you shall have it."

  "But I don't want it," said Jessie; "I hate the lamb, and I don't wantit."

  "It is very ungrateful in you to say so, and I know you do it just tovex me. I know you cannot help wanting that pretty little lamb with itssilver collar; and then it would please your father and mother andgrandmother so much to see the reward of merit on it."

  "But what good would their being pleased do me when I knew I had told astory to get it?" said Jessie mournfully.

  "You are very obstinate, Jessie," said Mary; "did not I tell you thatyou need not say a word, and that I would give papa the cards myself--sohow can you tell a story about it? Besides, I will tell him the wholetruth by-and-by, when I have had my fun out."

  "Will you, Mary, will you tell him the whole truth--and is it only justfor fun?"

  "To be sure it is, or I would not say so,--so now, Jessie, give me thecards at once like a good girl, and I will love you so dearly," kissingher as she spoke, "and just go in the schoolroom quietly, and look assober as you can while they are counting them."

  With a reluctant hand Jessie gave up the box, saying, "Remember, Mary,it is just for fun, and you will tell your father before I go home."

  "I will tell him in the right time," said Mary; "but if you do not makehaste into the schoolroom we will not be there in the right time," andshe ran quickly and joyously in--while Jessie followed more slowly andtimidly.

  Mary went straight to her father, who sat with Miss Bennett near atable, and gave him first a parcel containing her own cards, thenhanding him the box, said, "Jessie's are in this box, papa." Her fathertook them, smilingly, from her, and she then came and stood by Jessie,who had placed herself not far from me. The cards were counted. InMary's parcel were twenty merit cards and eight blanks, which, takenfrom the others, left her only twelve. Jessie, it was found, had onlytwo blanks to be taken from seventeen merit cards; she could thereforecount fifteen, and the lamb was declared to be hers. I had lookedsteadily upon her while my brother and Miss Bennett were counting, and Isaw that she looked very pale, except once when she caught MissBennett's eye, and then her face became very red, and her eyes filledwith tears. As my brother said, "Jessie has won the prize," she lookedimploringly at Mary and whispered, "Now, Mary--please, Mary, tell himnow,"--but Mary turned away and seemed not to hear her.

  My brother went into the next room and led in the lamb.

  Again I heard Jessie's pleading tones, "Now, Mary--please, Mary,now,"--but Mary said nothing.

  The lamb was led up to Jessie, and my brother, saying to her, "Here isyour prize, my good little girl, which you have well deserved," wouldhave put the riband into her hand, but instead of taking it, she coveredher face with her hands and sobbed out, "I cannot take it, sir--indeed Icannot take it, for it is not mine, it is Mary's, and I must tell if sheshould be ever so angry with me."

  Mr. Mackay looked around as for some one to explain Jessie's meaning,but as no one said any thing, he again addressed himself to Jessieherself: "But, my dear, why should you not take it? Perhaps you think,because Mary had most merit cards, the lamb should have been hers,--butyou must remember, she had so many more blanks to be taken from them,that they left her with less than you. As for Mary's being angry withyou, I am sure you need not be afraid of that,--Mary is not so selfishand unjust as to be angry with her friend for doing better thanherself."

  "Oh no, sir! that is not it--Mary wanted me to have the lamb, but--"

  Jessie stopped, and Miss Bennett now came up to Mr. Mackay and said, "Ibelieve I can explain this. Jessie is very properly grieved at havingdone a very wrong thing. You may remember that I said I would keep noaccount of the merit cards given, in order to induce the children to becareful, but Jessie seems to have forgotten that I did not say the sameof the blanks; of these I did take note, and I am grieved to find, onreference to my memorandum, that two of Jessie's blanks have been addedto Mary's."

  Miss Bennett spoke in a very grave tone, and looked at Jessie veryseverely. She would have said something more, but Mary--who, halfashamed and half angry, had stood with her eyes cast down and thecorners of her mouth twitching as if she were just ready to cry--nowlooked up and interrupted her by exclaiming, "You are very wrong indeed,Miss Bennett, to think Jessie had any thing to do with it. It was I thatdid it, on purpose that Jessie might have the lamb, and she never knew aword of it till just as we came in, and then she begged me to tell, andI would not. So there--it is all told now--an
d the next time I try togive anybody any thing, it shall be some one who will be more gratefulfor it than Jessie."

  Poor Jessie! she cried as if her heart would break, and tried to takeMary's hand while she said, "Indeed, indeed, Mary, I could not help it."

  But Mary would not be coaxed--she withdrew her hand and turned sullenlyaway. Mr. Mackay looked at her sorrowfully, then stooping down heunclasped the collar from the lamb's neck, and tying the riband in itsplace, held it to her while he said, "You have won the prize,Mary,--take it--but I must take off the collar. I cannot give a rewardof _merit_ to a girl who thinks a lamb more valuable than truth andhonesty."

  It was now Mary's turn to weep and Jessie's to defend her. "Oh! Sir, donot blame Mary--it was all from kindness to me, sir--indeed it was--andyou know, sir, Mary would not tell a story for any thing in the world."

  "And yet Mary wished you, Jessie, to tell a story, and to take what youknew did not justly belong to you, and now is angry with you because youwere not willing to do so. Either Mary is not very kind to you, or, as Isaid before, she values more the lamb she would have given you, thanthe truth and honesty she would have had you give up for it."

  Jessie was silenced for a minute, and though Mary continued to weep, itwas more gently. Mr. Mackay stood before the children, still holding thelamb,--which Mary seemed as little disposed to take as Jessie,--andlooking very gravely. At length Jessie raised her eyes to him and said,"I do not think Mary is angry with me because I would not take the lamb,sir; she is only a little vexed because I did not do as she wanted meto."

  We all smiled as Jessie said this, and Mr. Mackay answered, "I believeyou are quite right, my dear little girl,"--then, putting his hand onMary's head, he added, "My daughter, we will leave you alone for alittle while, to think whether you are most sorry that Jessie Graham haslost the prize, or that Mary Mackay has not had her own way altogether."

  He was turning away when Mary spoke, though in so low a tone that no onecould hear her. Mr. Mackay, putting his head down to her, asked what shesaid, and she repeated, "I do not think it was wrong in me to wantJessie to get the lamb and to give her my cards that she might get it."

  "Are you quite sure, Mary, that you did wish Jessie to win the prize? Doyou think you would have been pleased that she should have got the lambin any other way than by your giving it to her? Still, however this maybe, the wish to give it was generous, and far from thinking it wrong, Iam more pleased with it in my daughter, than even with her studiousnessand punctuality;--but, was it right in you, when your kind intentioncould not be accomplished without a very wrong action in Jessie, to wishthat she should do it, and to be angry with her because she would not?Ought you to have thought so much more of your generosity than ofJessie's truth?" Mr. Mackay waited a little while for an answer, thensaid, "Speak, Mary--was this right?"

  While her father had been speaking to her, Mary had ceased to weep,though she still kept her head down, and her face covered with herhands. Even now she could not lift her eyes, though she raised her heada little as she said, almost in a whisper, "No, papa."

  Jessie, whose eyes had been fixed upon Mary with the most earnest,anxious look you can imagine, now put her arm quickly around her neck,exclaiming in a joyful tone, "Then, Mary, you will not be vexed with meany more, will you?"

  "No, Jessie," said Mary, kissing her, "it was very wicked in me to bevexed with you just because you were good."

  "Now, my dear Mary," said Mr. Mackay, "in taking blame for your ownfault, and giving to your friend the credit she deserves, you are indeedgenerous, and I may now put back the lamb's collar--you _merit_ thereward."

  As he spoke, he kissed both the little girls. Mary sprang into herfather's arms and hid her face on his shoulder. As she did so, I sawthat there were tears in her eyes, yet she smiled and looked very happy.In a little while she looked up, and seeing Jessie seated on the floorplaying with the lamb, said, laughing, "Why, Jessie, I thought you hatedthe lamb."

  "Not now, Mary," said Jessie, "I love it now."

  And now it will be easy for my little readers to see that the one thingwhich Jessie loved more than Mary was "Truth."