"With sair fingers, you mean," said Fred; "these bushes scratch like half a dozen wild cats."
"It is in too good a cause for me to pity you," said Beatrice.
"Nor would I accept it if you would," said Fred.
His sister, however, seemed determined on bestowing it whether he would or not,-"How your hands are bleeding! Have you any thorns in them? Let me see, I have my penknife."
"Stuff!" was Fred's gracious reply, as he glanced at Alex and Carey.
"But why did you not put on your gloves?" proceeded Henrietta.
"Gloves, nonsense!" said Fred, who never went without them at Rocksand.
"He will take up the gauntlet presently," said Beatrice. "By the by, Alex, how many pairs of gloves have you had or lost in your life?"
"O, I always keep a pair for Sundays and for Allonfield," said Alex.
"Jessie says she will never let me drive her again without them," said Carey, "but trust me for that: I hate them, they are such girl's things; I tell her then she can't be driven."
Fred could not bear to hear of Carey's driving, a thing which he had not yet been permitted to attempt, and he hastily broke in, "You have not told the news yet."
"What news?"
"The Euphrosyne is coming home," cried the boys with one voice. "Had we not told you? The Euphrosyne is coming home, and Roger may be here any day!"
"That is something like news," said Queen Bee; "I thought it would only be that the puppies could see, or that Tom's tooth was through. Grandpapa has not heard it?"
"Papa is going up to tell him," said John. "I was going too, only Alex bagged me to carry his holly-bush."
"And so the great Rogero is coming home!" said Beatrice. "How you will learn to talk sea slang! And how happy grandmamma will be, especially if he comes in time for her great affair. Do you hear, Alex? you must practise your steps, for grandmamma is going to give a grand party, Careys and Evanses, and all, on purpose to gratify Fred's great love of dancing."
"I love dancing?" exclaimed Fred, in a tone of astonishment and contempt.
"Why, did you not look quite enraptured at breakfast when it was proposed? I expected you every moment to ask the honour of my hand for the first quadrille, but I suppose you leave it for Philip Carey!"
"If it comes at all you must start me, Bee," said Alex, "for I am sure I can't dance with any one but you."
"Let me request it now," said Fred, "though why you should think I like dancing I cannot imagine! I am sure nothing but your Majesty can make it endurable."
"There are compliments to your Majesty," cried Henrietta, laughing; "one will not or cannot dance at all without her, the other cannot find it endurable! I long to see which is to be gratified."
"Time will show," said Beatrice; "I shall ponder on their requests, and decide maturely, Greek against Prussian, lover of the dance against hater of the dance."
"I don't love it, I declare," exclaimed Fred.
"I don't mind it, if you dance with me," said Alex.
And Beatrice was in her glory, teasing them both, and feeling herself the object of attention to both.
Flirtation is not a pleasant word, and it is one which we are apt to think applies chiefly to the manners of girls, vain of their personal appearance, and wanting in sense or education. Beatrice would have thought herself infinitely above it; but what else was her love of attention, her delight in playing off her two cousins against each other? Beauty, or the consciousness of beauty, has little to do with it. Henrietta, if ever the matter occurred to her, could not help knowing that she was uncommonly pretty, yet no one could be more free from any tendency to this habit. Beatrice knew equally well that she was plain, but that did not make the least difference; if any, it was rather on the side of vanity, in being able without a handsome face, so to attract and engross her cousins. It was amusing, gratifying, flattering, to feel her power to play them off, and irritate the little feelings of jealousy which she had detected; and thoughtless as to the right or wrong, she pursued her course.
On reaching the church they found that, as was usual with her, she had brought them before any one was ready; the doors were locked, and they had to wait while Carey and John went to old Martha's to fetch the key. In a few minutes more Mr. Franklin arrived, well pleased to see them ready to fulfil their promise; the west door was opened, and disclosed a huge heap of holly laid up under the tower, ready for use.
The first thing the boys did was to go up into the belfry, and out on the top of the tower, and Busy Bee had a great mind to follow them; but she thought it would not be fair to Mr. Franklin, and the wide field upon which she had to work began to alarm her imagination.
Before the boys came down again, she had settled the plan of operations with Henrietta and Mr. Franklin, dragged her holly bushes into the aisle, and brought out her knife and string. They came down declaring that they could be of no use, and they should go away, and Beatrice made no objection to the departure of Carey and Johnny, who, as she justly observed, would be only in the way; but she insisted on keeping Fred and Alex.
"Look at all those pillars! How are we ever to twine them by ourselves? Look at all those great bushes! How are we to lift them? No, no, indeed, we cannot spare you, Fred. We must have some stronger hands to help us, and you have such a good eye for this sort of thing."
Had Alexander gone, Fred would have found some excuse for following him, rather than he should leave him with young ladies, doing young ladies' work; but, as Beatrice well knew, Alex would never withdraw his assistance when she asked Fred's, and she felt secure of them both.
"There, Alex, settle that ladder by the screen, please. Now will you see if there is anything to tie a piece of string to? for it is of no use to make a festoon if we cannot fasten it."
"I can't see anything."
"Here, give me your hand, and I'll look." Up tripped the little Bee, just holding by his hand. "Yes, to be sure there is! Here is a great rough nail sticking out. Is it firm? Yes, capitally. Now, Alex, make a sailor's knot round it. Help me down first though-thank you. Fred, will you trim that branch into something like shape. You see how I mean. We must have a long drooping wreath of holly and ivy, to blend with the screen. How tough this ivy is! Thank you-that's it. Well, Mr. Franklin, I hope we shall get on in time."
Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that the Misses Langford would not tire themselves.
Angels' work is Church decoration-work fit for angels, that is to say; but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its greatness makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory of GOD; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their LORD with those bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His sanctuary?
Angels' work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was that spirit of holy fear-that sole desire for His glory-the chief thought with these young people?
Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect for the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone together for so many hours.
But still Beatrice's great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the two boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful power it was in reality, which kept them intere
sted in employment so little accordant with their nature; kept them amused without irreverence, and doing good service all the time. But it was a power of which she greatly enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen the rivalry between them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a hassock, very happy, and very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath which she had yesterday proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other three-certainly neglected-but she did not feel it so; she had rather be quiet, for she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked to think over the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought to her mind. Uncle Geoffrey's conversation dwelt upon her too; she began to realize his meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his desire, by entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. Opportunities for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight Sutton, and she had been looking forward to having him all to herself here, when he must wish to visit his father's grave with her. She was vexed for a moment that his first attention was not given to it; but she knew that his first thought was there, and boys never showed what was uppermost in their minds to anyone but their sisters. She should have him by and by, and the present was full of tranquil enjoyment.
If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all, or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her.
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of the single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. "I thought you would have given us at least eleven more."
"What a quantity remains to be done!" sighed Henrietta, laying down the wreath which she had just completed. "Your work looks beautiful, Queenie, but how shall we ever finish?"
"A short winter's day, too!" said Beatrice. "One thing is certain-that we can't go home to luncheon."
"What will grandmamma think of that?" said Henrietta doubtfully. "Will she like it?"
Beatrice could have answered, "Not at all;" but she said, "O never mind, it can't be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, and besides we might be caught and stopped."
"Oh, that would be worse than anything," said Henrietta, quite convinced.
"So you mean to starve," said Alex.
"See what slaves men are to creature comforts," said Beatrice; "what do you say, Henrietta?"
"I had much rather stay here," said Henrietta; "I want nothing."
"Much better fun to go without," said Fred, who had not often enough missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke.
"I'll tell you what will do best of all!" cried Queen Bee. "You go to Dame Reid's, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men's bench in the porch."
"Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts," said Alex. "I thought she would soon come down to other mortals."
"Only to gratify her famishing subjects," said Beatrice, "you disloyal vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. Geoffrey is coming."
"For his private eating?" said Fred.
"He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. But come, Alex, why are you not off?"
"Because I don't happen to have a sixpence," said Alex, with an honest openness, overcoming his desire to add "in my pocket." It cost him an effort; for at school, where each slight ad- vantage was noted, and comparisons perpetually made, Fred's superior wealth and larger allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty.
"Every one is poor at the end of the half," said Fred, tossing up his purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. "Here is a sixpence, thought, at her Majesty's service."
"And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to loyalty?" said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. "We are not fallen quite so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in my desk at home."
"And my purse is in my workbox," said Henrietta.
"So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present," said Beatrice, "if it won't quite break you down."
"There are more where that came from," said Fred, with a careless air. "Come along, Alex."
Away they went. "That is unlucky," soliloquised Queen Bee: "if I could have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them no more."
"No, no, that would be rather too bad," said Henrietta. "I am sure Fred will behave better."
"Mark what I say," said Beatrice. "I know how it will be; a dog or a gun is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again 'twill be a nine days' wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to look at your wreath."
She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame Reid's grandson.
"Thank you," said she. "Did Master Alexander give you this?"
"Ay."
"Thank you, that's right!" and away he went.
"You see," said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came out to the porch. "Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!" and she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary's handwriting to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, "Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews's about his terrier.-A. L." "Very cool, certainly!" said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique. "What a life I will lead them!"
"Well, you were a true prophet," said Henrietta, "and after all it does not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but still I thought Fred would have behaved better."
"You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, and Fred with his own congeners," said Beatrice; "you don't know half the phases of boy nature."
Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was nothing-that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father's grave. He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one moment's doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to each other at Rocksand.
It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already. They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day.
It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger-
"Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
GOD and sinners reconciled."
Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and thankfulness for the "good tidings of great joy." Another and another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time passed away, till Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the door watching them.
"Beautiful!" said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; "your work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I don't think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?"
"She did, of course, papa," said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. "Who else could?"
"It is a very successful arrangement," said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about to find the spot for obtaining the best view. "It is an arrangement to suggest so much."
Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the shining leaves and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, i h s , were in the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their peculiar stiff gracefulness.
"I see it now!" said she, in a low voice full of awe. "Uncle, I did not mean to make it so!"
"How?" he asked.
"It is like Good Friday!" said she, as the resemblance to the crown of thorns struck her more and more strongly.
"Well, why not, my dear?" said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a sort of alarm. "Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good Friday?"
Henrietta's Wish Page 8
