Belle Powers' Locket

by Joanna H. Mathews

  XIV.

  _FOUND._

  A fortnight, three, four, five weeks passed away; and still nothinghad been seen or heard of Belle's lost treasure. For the first fewdays the children could talk of nothing else; and it was only Belle'sdetermination to stand fast by her cousin and take her part, thatprevented them from treating Mabel with open slights and coldness. Darklooks and cool words would certainly have fallen to her portion, butfor Belle; and she knew and felt this, and it is only justice to her tosay that she was grateful to Belle accordingly.

  But by and by the affair became an old story, as every thing does intime, and the children ceased to wonder over it; and Mabel, thoughnever much of a favorite, was allowed to come with them and join intheir games as usual. Only the little cousins thought much about thelocket; Belle still grieving over her loss, and Mabel mourning italmost as much, with a feeling of guilt and shame added to her sorrowfor her cousin's sake.

  Perhaps nothing could have done Mabel more good than this sense ofthe wrong she had done her cousin: it made her see how indulgence inselfishness and wilfulness may bring trouble and distress which wenever intended or dreamt of in our perverse mood. Moreover she feltabashed whenever she remembered that the most, if not all of herschool-mates, and perhaps her teacher too, believed her guilty of eventheft. It is not usually good for people to be unjustly suspected;but in this case it did Mabel no harm. It made her less exacting anddomineering at school, and the wish to make amends to Belle madeher more yielding and unselfish at home. So her old bad habits weresomewhat broken in upon, and the praise and credit which she gainedfrom her parents and little cousin were so pleasing to her that theycaused her to persevere and try to do still better. It was not the bestmotive for improvement, to be sure; but it was something gained inthe right way; and by and by Mabel came to the discovery that she wasreally happier when she was good than when she was naughty.

  One day when she and Belle were paying a visit to Maggie and Bessie,she gave what the other children considered a very striking instanceof improvement. She had brought with her a very beautiful doll, andto this doll little Annie had taken a desperate fancy; but it wasnot thought safe to trust it to her hold, although she begged for itpiteously. Baby though she was, Annie knew that she never obtained anything by screaming for it; but she pleaded for the doll, which washeld beyond her reach, with kisses and many pretty, broken words,till it was hard to resist her; while Mabel was surprised that she didnot scream and cry for that which she wanted so much, and could nothelp thinking that the little one behaved far better than she wouldhave done herself. And at length her heart was moved so that she couldrefuse Annie no longer, although no one had thought her unreasonable todo so.

  "S'pose I sit down here on the rug by Annie, and let her hold it whileI watch her very carefully," she said to Nurse, who was vainly tryingto divert baby's attention by offering her every thing else proper forher to have.

  "I don't know, dear," said Mammy, divided between the wish to indulgeher pet, and the fear that the doll would come to harm in Annie'skeeping.

  "I'll be very careful of it," said Mabel. "Put her down here by me, andI'll teach her how to hold it nicely."

  Nurse obeyed, and the baby was made happy; while her little sisters andBelle looked on in pleased surprise at Mabel's novel generosity.

  "Mabel," said Maggie, "I'm going to make you a compliment; and it isthat I never saw a child improve more than you do 'most every day. Iexpect one of these days you'll be quite a benefactor."

  "I expect she will too," said Belle. "What does it mean?"

  "Somebody who is very generous and does a great many kind things forpeople," said Maggie.

  "Then I'm certain you and Bessie are benefactors," said Belle,pronouncing the long word slowly, as if she were not quite sure of it.

  "We try to be," answered Maggie, demurely.

  "I'm sure you are too, Belle," said Bessie.

  "Yes: she just is," said Mabel. "But I s'pose you don't think I am one."

  "Um--well--not quite," said Bessie, not wishing to hurt Mabel'sfeelings, but too truthful to say what she did not think; "but we havegreat hopes of you, Mabel. We think it was pretty _benefacting_ of youto let Baby Annie have your new doll in her own hands. It must havebeen pretty hard work."

  "Yes," said Maggie: "we didn't expect it of you, Mabel; and we're veryagreeably disappointed in you."

  Praise from her playmates was something quite new and very pleasant toMabel, and she began to feel pretty well pleased with herself.

  "Yes," she said, with an air of superior virtue, "I b'lieve I'm growingpretty good now."

  "You oughtn't to say that," said Bessie: "you ought to say, 'Perhaps Iam a little better than I used to be, but I hope I'll be better yet.'"

  "Why?" asked Mabel, feeling that she was not properly appreciated inher new character.

  "Because," answered Bessie, "it is not the fashion for people to talkabout their own goodness. They ought to wait and let other people doit."

  "Well," said Mabel, "I'm sure you were doing it; and so why can't I doit too?"

  "But it's _yourself_, you know," said Maggie; "and because 'every crowthinks her own young one the blackest,' that is not any reason for herto talk about it."

  "Crows caw, not talk, Maggie," said Bessie, the matter of fact.

  "Oh, well!" said Maggie, "the lesson out of the proverb is all thesame."

  "I didn't mean to be proud about it," said Mabel, quite humbly; "but Icouldn't help feeling a little nice when I thought I wasn't so naughtyas I used to be. Mamma says I am better, and papa says so too."

  "And we say so too," said Bessie, kissing her, the first kiss she hadever given her of her own free will; "and we are very glad of it,Mabel."

  "I think it was Belle that made me a better girl," said Mabel: "shewas so good to me, I had to be. 'Least she was pretty mad with me atfirst: wasn't you, Belle? And before I did a thing to her too; butafterwards she was real good to me. And you and Maggie were good to metoo; and everybody liked you, so I thought it must be nice to be good,and I would be too. And I b'lieve I do like it better."

  "You see example is better than practice," said Maggie, meaning"precept;" "and so 'cause Belle was good and kind herself, that putyou in a mind to be so; and that ought to make you very happy, Belle.I find it is very true that if 'evil communications corrupt goodmanners,' good communications also corrupt evil manners."

  Little Belle had not said much while the others were talking on thissubject, but now she said quite softly to Bessie,--

  "Bessie, do you think that I was a little sunbeam to Mabel? You know Isaid I wouldn't be; but papa told me that verse out of the Bible 'boutour Father making His sun to shine on the evil and the good, and hesaid that meant we ought to be good and like sunshine to everybody, ifthey were good or if they were bad."

  "Yes: I do think you were, Belle," answered Bessie; "and I b'lieve ourFather was very pleased with you, 'cause you know Mabel was pretty evilwhen she first came here; and it was very hard for you, most of allabout the locket."

  "Yes," said Belle, with a sigh; "and now I've had to make up my mindnever to find my locket. Papa told me I had better. He says there is nohope of finding it now."

  Meanwhile Maggie was congratulating Mabel still further on her improvedconduct.

  "We're very glad, Mabel," she said, "that we can be friends with you;for we wouldn't have liked you to be 'a heathen man and a publican' tous. We wouldn't like to be in that case with anybody, but 'speciallywith Belle's cousin, 'cause we're so very fond of her."

  "So am I," said Mabel, looking affectionately over at Belle.

  And this was true. Mabel had really learned to love Belle dearly andto trust her entirely; and, what was still better, she was becominganxious to copy the pretty lady-like behavior, ready obedience, andsweet unselfishness, which she saw practised in the daily life of hercousin, and her little friends, Maggie and Bessie Bradford.

  Not that it must be thought that all went smoothly on every occasion
.Belle, as well as Mabel, had a firm will and a high temper, and she hadbeen much indulged and somewhat spoiled by her father and nurse; sothat now and then the two children would fall out about some trifle,and perhaps have some quick words, and, it might be, pout and sulkat one another for a while. But Belle was generally mindful of the"sunshine" she was to shed about her, and so was soon ready to makeup and yield the disputed point; and then Mabel would be shamed intorepentance, and there would be harmony and peace between them oncemore.

  Yes: little Belle had truly proved a "sunbeam" to Mabel, throwing lightupon the right way, and not only pointing it out to her so plainly thatshe could not miss it, but making it _look_ so bright and attractivethat she turned with some willingness to walk there, pleased to followin the steps of her little example.

  And the sunshine which she set herself to shed upon Mabel's way wasreflected farther still on all about them, till where there had beendiscontent and weariness now reigned harmony and happiness; and all waspeace.

  * * * * *

  Dora Johnson was a fat, chubby little thing, round as a ball, and likethe "Dumpling" her school-mates called her; looking as if she was nevertroubled by a pain or an ache. But she was subject now and then to apain and fulness in her head, for which the best remedy was a turn inthe open air; and when one of these attacks came on in school, MissAshton always allowed her to go for this, knowing that Dora was a childto be trusted, who would return to her studies as soon as she was able.Taken in time, they passed away soon with but little trouble, and herkind teacher was watchful to prevent them as far as possible.

  "Dora, my dear, does your head trouble you?" asked Miss Ashton, as shesaw the child press her hand to her forehead, while her face flushedsuddenly.

  "Yes'm," answered Dora, dropping her book.

  "Then wrap your cloak about you and go for a turn on the piazza or inthe garden, till you are better," said the lady.

  Dora gladly obeyed, thankful for the relief which the fresh, bracingair would bring to her throbbing head. Going for her cloak, she threwit around her, ran downstairs and out upon the piazza. Her step waslight; and whatever sound her little feet might have made upon thefloor was drowned by the loud and continuous hammering made by someworkmen, who were tinning the roof of a neighboring house.

  Dora walked once or twice the length of the piazza, and was beginningto feel better, when she heard the sound of voices below; and presentlyshe saw the cook come out from the kitchen-door, followed by Marcia,the colored girl. Cook had a large bundle in her arm, and was evidentlygoing out.

  A door in the side of the garden-wall opened upon the street whichbounded one side of it; and, unfastening this, the cook passed out,saying to Marcia,--

  "Now mind and keep the door shut; and don't you be poking your headout, and leaving your work."

  With which she disappeared; and Marcia shut and bolted the door, thencut one or two foolish antics as though she were pleased to be rid ofher. She did not see Dora; for the end of the piazza where the littlegirl stood looking out at her was screened by a lattice over which rana vine. There were no leaves on the vine now, it is true; but the stemsand tendrils helped to make that corner a good hiding-place from anyone who stood below.

  Dora had no thought of hiding from Marcia; and she was about to speakto her, when she saw the colored girl, after looking carefully abouther, stoop down, and with a bit of stick begin to poke and pry betweenthe stones at the bottom of the wall, which was somewhat out of repairat this part, and showed one or two large cracks running along justabove the ground.

  "What can she be doing?" thought Dora; and curiosity held her silenttill she should see what Marcia would be at.

  Though hidden herself, she could see the girl very well, peeping downat her, as she did, through the lattice and the vine.

  Marcia pried and pried, stopping now and then to look about her andlisten, as if afraid of being caught; and at last fished up frombetween the stones something glittering which looked like--was itpossible?--Dora thought it looked like a slender chain with somethinghanging to it. Could it be?--was it--Belle's locket?

  She darted from her corner, along the piazza, down the steps leadingto the garden, and around to the side of the wall where Marcia was;but the girl saw and heard her coming, and before she reached her thething she had held in her hand was dropped again into its hiding-placebetween the stones.

  Yet not so quickly but that Dora saw the motion of Marcia's hand, andshe was more than ever convinced that something was wrong.

  They stood and faced one another, the little lady and the colored girl:the former, stern and indignant, as became one who had caught a culpritin the act; the other, sheepish and guilty, wriggling her shouldersuneasily, and not daring to meet the eye which accused her.

  "Give me that," said Dora, severely.

  "Give you what, Miss Johnson?" said Marcia, twisting and wrigglingmore than ever and vainly trying to put on an air of innocence.

  "What you had in your hand. I b'lieve you've put it back in the wall,but you'll have to let me see it," said Dora.

  "I ain't got nothin', Miss; and I s'pect Miss Ashton wants you. I hearher callin'," said Marcia.

  "She's not calling, and if she was I wouldn't go till I knew what thatwas," answered Dora, firmly. "She'll excuse me when I tell her why."

  Marcia persisted, and insisted that she had had nothing in her hand;but Dora knew better. And though the girl tried every device to ridherself of the young lady, she was not to be moved. She would mountguard over that hidden thing till she learned what it was, if she stoodthere all day.

  Equally determined was Marcia; but she coaxed and threatened and triedto frighten in vain. Dora was a child of too much sense to be at alldisturbed by the stories she told of what would happen to her; treatedwith scorn all the bribes which Marcia promised; and repeated over andover again her resolution not to stir till she saw what was in thatcrack.

  As for Miss Ashton coming for her, it was just what Dora wished for:she could tell her teacher, and leave the matter in her hands, surethat she would find means of coming at the truth. And now there wasNelly Ransom's voice making itself heard.

  "Dora! Dora! Where are you? Miss Ashton wants to know if you are worse."

  "Come here, Nelly," said Dora; while Marcia grew more and more uneasyas she found the toils of her own wickedness closing down and down uponher. "You go and ask Miss Ashton to come here very quick. I've made agreat discovery. Make haste."

  Nelly obeyed, wondering much; and Miss Ashton, rather alarmed, speedilyappeared on the spot.

  Marcia, seeing that all was lost now, did not wait for her wickednessto be revealed; but, as the young lady came down the steps, shot awayaround the other side of the house and out of sight.

  Dora's story was soon told, and the crack pointed out; in anothermoment the little girl and her teacher were busy following Marcia'sexample, and with bits of crooked stick trying to poke out the hidden"shiny thing," as Dora called it,--not yet sure enough to say the_locket_.

  "Oh! Miss Ashton," said the excited child, "I feel something,--I do,I do!" and the next moment she drew up with her hooked stick--thelocket!--yes, Belle's long-lost locket!

  Dora's joy and exultation knew no bounds; and she would have rushedaway with it to the school-room at once, had not Miss Ashton stoppedher.

  "Let me be the one to take it to Belle. Oh! do, Miss Ashton. I was thefinder out," said the child.

  "Yes, you shall give it to her; but I cannot have the class excited anddisturbed just now," said the lady. "Besides, I want to know how thiscame here."

  "But, Miss Ashton," said Dora, "I don't think I could keep it in. Andthen Mabel, poor Mabel! you wouldn't let any one think she stole it aminute longer, would you? Oh! I am so sorry I believed it of her, andwas so ugly to her about it."

  There was reason in Dora's words; and Miss Ashton, knowing that thecuriosity of her young flock must already be excited, concluded to lether reveal her prize, although she felt sure
that there would be littlemore study that morning if she did so.

  It was singular how the locket should have come into Marcia'spossession, and she did not yet feel that Mabel was quite cleared. Butshe gave Dora leave to make her good news known, and to restore thelocket to Belle.

  Away rushed Dora, and running into the school-room held aloft herprize, crying out,--

  "Found! Found! and I did it, Belle and Mabel!"

  Miss Ashton following close on Dora's steps found her class in quite asmuch commotion as she had expected. Belle, with the recovered locketheld fast in her little hands, was covering it with kisses, while tearsand smiles were struggling for the mastery. She flew into Miss Ashton'sarms the moment she appeared, but could find no words for all that wasin her heart.

  But this could not be said for any of the others; for questions andexclamations were poured forth in such numbers that it was impossibleto answer them all, and in spite of Miss Ashton's warning "Sh! sh!"there arose such a Babel of young voices that Mrs. Ashton opened thedoor of her room and asked the cause of the uproar.

  A sudden hush fell upon the little ones when her voice was heard; andthen Miss Ashton told in a few words where and how the locket had beenfound.

  Belle waited till she was through, and then slipping from her teacher'slap ran over to Mabel, who sat sobbing at her desk; and the two littlecousins put their arms about one another in a loving, congratulatoryclasp.

  "Oh! Mabel," said Belle, "I am so glad I b'lieved you didn't have it. Iwould feel so bad if I had."

  "I'm so glad it's come out," sobbed Mabel, with a look and tone whichwent far towards convincing Miss Ashton that the child's story hadreally been true, and that, however mysterious it now seemed, Marciain some way had obtained possession of the locket without Mabel'sknowledge.

  "So am I," said Dora, who had been one of the most forward in believingMabel guilty; "and I'm so sorry I was hateful to you about it, Mabel.I'll make up to you for it as long as I live! See if I don't."

  Congratulations were showered on both of the little cousins; andBelle's pleasure in the recovery of her locket was increased tenfold byknowing that Mabel was cleared.

  For when, after some difficulty, Marcia was forced to confess how shehad come by the locket, she said that on the day when she had beenallowed to go to her sick sister, she had forgotten a bundle she wasto take with her, and returned for it. Finding the gate unfastened,she came in without ringing, entered the house, and went up to herroom without notice. But on the way up she saw Mabel run out from theschool-room into the cloak-room, and peeping at her through the crackof the door saw her throw down some glittering object and cover itwith her hat and sacque. She passed on her way; but, as she came down,was tempted to go in and see what the young lady had been hiding. Atfirst it was only curiosity; but when she saw the pretty thing, thewish to have it came over her, and, the temptation proving too strong,she snatched it up, put the cloak and hat as she had found them, andran away out of the house as quietly as possible, no one knowing thatshe had returned. But she dared not let any one see the locket, andshe had put it for safe hiding in the crack in the wall, whence shecould take it out once in a while and look at it. But it had been moretrouble than pleasure to her; for Marcia had been taught better, andfound truly that "the way of transgressors is hard."

  She was not very penitent now, but very much frightened, believing thatshe would be sent to prison. This was not done of course; but Marcia'ssin had deprived her of a good home and its comforts. Mrs. Ashton wouldhave kept her, and still tried to do her good, if she had not had heryoung pupils to consider; but Marcia had been much given to pilferingof late; and this fault, so serious in any place, was particularly soin a school. So Marcia must go, in spite of all her promises,--promisesmade so often before, and so often broken. Mrs. and Miss Ashton stillkept an eye upon her, and did what they could to befriend her; butshe lost much through a sin which had brought her not the smallestpleasure.

  And now we will say good-by for a while to Belle and Mabel; hoping thatthe latter, profiting by the lessons and example set before her, mayalso learn to draw light and brightness from the Sun of Righteousness,and herself prove a little sunbeam to all about her path.

  530 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, _October, 1880_.

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  Transcriber's Notes:

  A few instances of missing punctuation, limited to full stops andclosing quotes, have been silently corrected.

  Page 26, "Lilly" changed to "Lily" (and Lily Norris is) Page 81, "eat" changed to "ate" (Mabel ate up her jelly) Page 91, apostrophe added (he 'most drowned himself) Page 199, "behaviour" changed to "behavior" (govern her behavior) Page 210, "to-morrrow" changed to "to-morrow" (day after to-morrow)