CHAPTER IX.
PREPARATION.
After this pleasant meeting, Cecille and I, as you may suppose, werevery friendly. I visited her grandmother, as I had promised, and foundher a very agreeable and excellent old lady. I often made my visits toher when Cecille was obliged to be away, and then she loved to sit andtalk to me of her. I told her that Cecille said she had taken care ofher when she was an infant, and had been to her as her own mamma. Shereplied to this, that she had tried to do her duty by her, and that shehad been repaid tenfold for whatever she had done by Cecille'stenderness and respect.
"Ah, ma'am," she would say, "you do not know what it is to suffer want.We often did this, and I would have been sad indeed, if my little girl'scheerfulness had not made me ashamed. I could then speak little English,and Mr. Logan, who was our only friend after my son left us, could speakno French; so that all my comfort came through Cecille. One day, justbefore we left our last home, she came running to me, full of gladness,exclaiming, 'O, grandmamma, I have good news for you.' I thought atfirst that my son had come back, or at least that there was a letterfrom him; but it was that Cecille, in reading her Bible, had just metwith a verse saying, that 'the young ravens may lack and suffer hunger,but they that fear the Lord shall not want any good thing.' 'And now,grandmamma,' she said, 'I am sure you will have whatever is good foryou, for you fear the Lord.' I had often read the same verse in myBible, but I had never felt it to be so full of comfort as I did then;and if ever I live to see my son's face again, and to go back to thehome I love in France, I shall feel that I owe it to that dear child,for whom I thank God every day."
Madame L'Estrange always spoke in French, but I have translated what shesaid, that my readers may learn from Cecille's example that theyoungest child may do good to the oldest and wisest. I would have themremark, too, how much wiser it is to cultivate cheerful feelings than tobe fretful and dissatisfied. Do you not suppose that Cecille, thoughpoor and alone in a strange country with her feeble old grandmother, washappier with her cheerful temper and her trust in the goodness of herkind heavenly Father, than those children who fret at being awoke in themorning, though they are surrounded with every comfort and have thekindest people to attend upon them,--who sit down with dissatisfiedfaces to a breakfast-table covered with good things because they fancysomething which is not there, and who thus go through the whole daycomplaining of what they have and wishing for what they cannot get?
But, interested as I was in Cecille, you must not suppose that my wholeattention was given to her, or that I failed to make friends of Claraand Grace and the rest of Mrs. Wilmot's children.
November seemed to be quite a busy month with these young girls, and Iwas told by Mrs. Wilmot that they were preparing for an examination,which would take place early in December, when their friends came totake them home for the Christmas holidays. This explained to me theirunusual attention to their studies, but I saw there was something morein their minds, of which Mrs. Wilmot knew nothing. Instead of sitting,when they were at work, with their kind mamma Wilmot and myself, as theyhad formerly loved to do, they now asked to sit together in theschoolroom; and if, while they were there, either of us enteredunexpectedly, they would shuffle away their work, as if they did notwish it seen. Harriet was with them at these times, but though I couldnot help feeling a little curious about their movements, I would not askher any questions, because I was sure, if not bound to secrecy, shewould tell me without questioning. I was not kept many days inignorance. Mrs. Wilmot and I were sitting at work one afternoon, whenHarriet came into the parlor and said, "Aunt Kitty, the girls ask you togo into the schoolroom; they want you to show them something about theirwork."
"I will do it, my dear," said Mrs. Wilmot, rising before me.
"Oh no, Mrs. Wilmot," said Harriet in most earnest tones, "they do notwant you to go, ma'am; that is," she continued in a confused manner,"they did not tell me to ask you."
"Oh, well, my dear child, do not look so agitated," said Mrs. Wilmotsmiling, "I will not go. I suppose I shall hear the secret in time. I amquite sure there is nothing improper in it, or Aunt Kitty would not bechosen as their confidant."
I went with Harriet to the schoolroom, and found that my assistance waswanted in showing Kate Ormesby how to make up a work-bag which she hadbeen embroidering in worsted.
"And why was this a secret?" I asked.
Clara undertook to explain. They were getting some presents ready forMamma Wilmot, and they did not wish her to know any thing about themtill the day of the examination, when they intended to put them on hertable with a note which they would all sign. Then their work wasexhibited. There was a needle-book from one--a pincushion fromanother--a pair of slippers embroidered on canvass from a third, and thework-bag which I have already named. These were the presents prepared byLucy, Martha, Emma, and Kate.
"And now where are your presents?" I asked, turning to Clara and Grace.
"Mine is not done yet," said Clara.
"Well, what is it to be?"
"A locket, set with Grace's hair and mine, and with our names on theback of it."
"And yours, Grace?"
She colored and looked down.
"Show it to Aunt Kitty, Grace," said Harriet; "I am sure she will thinkit very pretty."
"I do not wonder you are ashamed of it, Grace," said Clara, quickly,"when you might have had such a handsome one, so cheaply too."
"It would not have been cheap for me, Clara."
"Well, I should think a handsome hair bracelet cheap for anybody at twodollars and a half, but some people never think they can get enough fortheir money."
I saw that these words were very painful to Grace, who turned away withher eyes full of tears; and as there is nothing more disagreeable to methan to hear little girls quarrel, I interrupted any farther remarksfrom Clara, by urging Grace to show me her present. With a timid mannershe took out of her basket a bracelet of hair, very simply woven, whichshe had just commenced. It was pretty, and I said so; yet I acknowledgeI thought, with Clara, it would scarce be handsome enough for such alocket as she described. Again I asked myself, can Grace be selfish,that she would not spend her money on a present for her mother? That shehad the money for the bracelet I could not doubt, for I knew that shehad the same allowance for pocket-money that Clara had, and she was ableto buy a locket, which I was sure, from the description, must cost morethan two dollars and a half. Besides, if she had not the money, Claracould not have expected her to buy it, or have been angry with her, asshe evidently was, for not doing so. These thoughts probably made melook grave, and, if I might judge from her sad countenance, poor Gracewas little comforted by my praise of her work. I observed, after this,that there was a little coolness between Clara and Grace. They were notso constantly together as they had been, and sometimes Clara spoke toher friend in a very tart tone, while Grace always seemed gentle, andeven humble, as if she was seeking forgiveness for some wrong she haddone. This did not convince me that Clara was right and Grace was wrong,for I have often seen the person who was most to blame in a quarrel, themost angry--while the least faulty was conciliating and anxious forpeace.
After this the girls admitted me into all the mysteries of their littleplot. I assisted them in their work where assistance was needed, and wasconsulted on all their arrangements. There was a very interesting debateon the question whether the presents should be placed on Mrs. Wilmot'stoilet table before she was awake in the morning, and so meet her eyewhen she first arose; or whether they should be laid on the librarytable, while she was at breakfast. I gave my opinion in favor of thelast arrangement; and at length brought them all over to my way ofthinking, by reminding them that we could not be quite sure Mrs. Wilmotwould sleep on that morning until we were ready for her to awake.
About a week before the examination Clara's locket was sent home by thejeweller. She brought it to me, and I saw, by his mark on the paperaround it, that its cost was four dollars. It was plainly but handsomelymade, and the initial letters of her name
and Grace's were very prettilyengraved upon the back. When the bracelet was finished they were both tobe sent to the jeweller, who would put them together with small goldrings. For this Grace would pay him. Clara continued to look, and evensometimes to speak, as if she thought it would be quite a disgrace toher locket to be seen in such company. Grace bore this in silence,though she was evidently much distressed at it.
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