Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE THREE WISHES.

  "Run to the window, mamma, run to the window, and see who is come,"cried Florence, a few days after, bursting into the room where hermother and I were sitting, just before dinner.

  It was not necessary to run to the window, it was only necessary to lookinto Florence's joyful face to see that her father had come. I lifted myeyes to Mr. Arnott's face as he entered: there was no cloud on his brow,no expression but that of grateful joy in his eyes, and I said tomyself, all has gone prosperously with him. It was even so. The lawyer,on his return, delivered to Mr. Arnott papers which he had drawn up forMr. Atwater, and which, with his will, had been left in his hands forsafe-keeping. These papers fully secured Mr. Arnott's property. He hadlost nothing, but had gained from past anxiety a very usefullesson--never to put off important business, even for a day.

  In the evening we gathered around the fire, with grateful and happyhearts, to hear and to tell the events of those weeks of separation.Already, however, when Florence was not present, Mr. Arnott had heardfrom his wife of her constant tenderness, and watchful attention to hercomfort, and from me of her generous plans for aiding them, should theill fortune come which they anticipated. He did not praise her in words,but she could not meet his eye, or hear his tones, without feeling thatshe was dearer than ever to her father's heart. Just before we separatedfor the night, he drew her to him, and seating her on his knee, said,"Florence, did you ever read the fairy story of the three wishes?"

  "Yes, papa."

  "Well, I will be your good fairy. Make three wishes, and they shall begranted."

  Florence laughed gayly.

  "Why, papa! fairies are always women."

  "Well, I will be a magician; they are men, are they not?"

  "Yes."

  "Now make your wishes."

  "What shall I wish for, mamma?"

  "Stop," said Mr. Arnott, "they must be your own wishes; nobody mustprompt them, or the spell is broken."

  "And if I make a wrong wish, may I not take it back, and wish overagain?"

  "No--so be careful what you say."

  Florence became grave, and was silent for a few minutes; then looking upwith a smile, said, "I have two wishes, but I cannot think of a third."

  "Let me hear the two, and you can take a longer time to think of thethird."

  "Well, first, I wish little Jem O'Donnel could be sent to school, andwhen he gets big enough, could be taught a trade--that is one wish."

  "That is one wish! I thought that was two wishes."

  "Oh no, papa! only one."

  "Well, let it pass for one. It shall be done, that is, with his parents'consent, which you must get Aunt Kitty to procure for you. Now for thesecond wish."

  "I wish little Lucy Dermot could be taught music, so as to give lessons,and support her mother and herself."

  "You extravagant girl," said Mr. Arnott, "it is well I limited yourwishes to three, or I should be a ruined man."

  "Oh, papa! fairies and magicians never find any fault with our wishes,if they are ever so extravagant."

  "Well, Lucy Dermot shall be taught music, if she be able and willing tolearn. Now for the third wish."

  "Oh! I must have till to-morrow to think of that. That is my last wish,and it must be something very good."

  "To-morrow, then, I shall expect to hear it; and now you may go anddream of it. Good-night."

  I went down early the next morning to put some books, which I hadfinished reading, into their places in the library, an apartmentcommunicating with the breakfast-parlor by a door, now standing open.While I was there, Mr. Arnott entered the parlor, and immediately after,Florence bounded in, exclaiming, "Oh, papa! I have found out my thirdwish."

  "Well, my daughter, what is it?"

  "Why, you know, papa, nurse has a daughter, and she is her only child,just as I am your only child; and she is very good, too, nurse says."

  "Just as you are very good, I suppose."

  "Oh no, papa, I did not mean that; but she is going to be married--atleast, she would have been married a year ago, nurse says, but the manshe is to be married to is working hard to try and get a house for herto live in first--"

  "And how did you hear all this, Florence? Did nurse know of my promiseto you, and did she ask you to speak of this?"

  "Oh no, papa! she does not know any thing about it. I thought when I hadsuch a good chance, I ought to do something for nurse; so, when she wasputting me to bed last night, I asked her what she wished for most inthe world, and she said she was so well taken care of that she had notany thing to wish for; and I said, 'Not if anybody was to promise togive you just what you should ask for, nurse, could you not find anything to wish for then?' and so nurse told me about her daughter, andsaid she did wish sometimes she had a home for her, and I thought mythird wish should be for a house for her. Just a small house, you know,papa, with flowers all about it, and a garden, and a poultry yard, and adairy, and--"

  "Stop, Florence--here are half a dozen wishes at once. I will tell youwhat I will do. I will have a small but comfortable house built--"

  "And a garden to it, papa?"

  "Yes, a garden and a poultry yard; the dairy can wait until it iswanted, and the flowers they can plant themselves. This house you shallgive to nurse, and she can let her children have it until she wants tooccupy it herself. It is only right, as you say, that something shouldbe done for her."

  "Oh, thank you--thank you, papa! That will be my very wish."

  "And now, Florence, your three wishes have been wished, and not one ofthem for yourself. Have you no selfish desires, my child?"

  "Oh yes, papa!" said Florence, in a serious tone, "a great many."

  "I should like to know how you find them, Florence?"

  Mr. Arnott meant to express by this, that he never saw these selfishdesires manifested by Florence; but she understood him literally tomean, that he wished to know how she discovered them, and she answered;"Why, you know, papa, Aunt Kitty made a little prayer for me once, whenI was very, very selfish, and I thought I would say that prayer everynight till I had no more selfishness left; so every night I went over inmy own mind what had happened in the day, to see if I must say it, and,papa, there has never been a single night that I have not had to say it,and I am afraid it always will be so."

  "It will, my dear child, for there is selfishness in our hearts as longas we live; but while you watch over yourself, and pray earnestly to Godagainst it, he will give you power always to act generously--to subdueyour selfish feelings."

  I have told you enough of Florence, my dear young friends, to enable youto answer the question--is she generous? But my book has done little ifit has not made you ask a question of much more importance to each oneof you--are you yourself generous? Before you answer, yes, remember thatthe truly excellent are always humble, and that Florence never felt howmuch selfishness was in her heart, till she became generous. Should yourconscience answer, no, imitate Florence in her simple, earnest prayer,and honest efforts to amend, and be assured that the same heavenlyFather will hear and help you.

  THE END.

  GRACE AND CLARA:

  OR,

  BE JUST AS WELL AS GENEROUS.