Chapter II: Part 2

The pyramid over the sleeping Moses was nearly completed, the little builders expecting each moment to hear the bell, when Lola Swan, coming with a fresh supply of pebbles, tripped over a stick which lay upon the grass, and, trying to recover herself, let her load fall around and upon the half-built pyramid, knocking down half a dozen or so of the stones which composed it. Not much harm was done, but Susy immediately exclaimed,--

"Goodness gracious! mercy me!" and Lola answered as you have heard in the words which met Daisy's ear as she and General Forster entered the garden.

The click of the gate-latch caused all the children to look up, and Moses and the pyramids were for the moment forgotten at the sight of the new scholar.

"Why! there's Daisy Forster," said Lily, for Daisy was now known by this name.

"I wonder if she's coming here to school," said another; and that question was speedily answered, as, stopping by the little group, the General, whom all knew and liked, said, "Here's a new schoolmate for you. Will you be kind to her, and make her feel at home?"

"Yes, sir, we will; and I'll take care of her," said Lily, scrambling to her feet and taking Daisy's hand in a patronizing manner. "She won't feel much strange after one day, 'cause we'll all be good to her, and she shall help us make our land of Egypt."

"Ah! that is what you are doing, is it?" said the General.

"Yes, sir," answered Lily; "we're just putting a pyramid over Moses in the bulrushes, 'cause we hav'n't time to fix so many bulrushes till recess. And part of it is knocked down. Lola did it, but she didn't mean to, and if you peep in there between those stones you can see a little bit of the ark and Moses' dear little china arm poking up. Please to peek, sir."

The General did as he was requested, saying that he saw Moses quite plainly.

"It isn't much matter if we do have to leave him now," said Lily; "he's pretty nicely covered up."

"I think so," said the General, gravely; "and if I were Moses, with a pyramid being built over me, I think I should prefer to have a small breathing-hole left."

"Why, so he would," said Lily; "and now we can leave him nicely fixed, and play he's very comfortable in his pyramid, even if it's not quite done."

Lily being satisfied with the fate of Moses, all the rest were so; and the bell now ringing, the little group turned towards the house. Daisy wondering, as well she might, that a matter which was so easily settled should call for such violent expressions of distress and alarm as she had heard from two of the little girls.

"Why, Miss Collins," said General Forster, as that lady met them at the door, "what a bouquet of flowers you have here! A Rose, a Violet, a Daisy, and a Lily; as choice a nosegay as one could wish for."

"And the Lily is going to take care of the Daisy, and make her feel to home, Miss Collins," said Lily, who still held Daisy's hand. "The General said I could."

"No, he didn't," said Susy.

"Yes, he _did_, 'pon my word he did; least I said I would do it, and he didn't say I couldn't: did you, sir?" said Lily, throwing back her head to look up at the General's tall figure.

"And that comes to the same thing, does it, Lily?" he said, laughing; "well, I suppose it does; and I promise you shall look after Daisy till she feels no longer a stranger among you."

"She knows me, and Loly and Violet, as well as any thing," said Lily; for the little girls had met several times before, and Lily felt herself and the two Swans to be on rather intimate terms with Daisy Forster.

"All right, then. I leave her to you. Good-morning, Miss Collins," and with a bow to the lady, with whom he had before made all the necessary arrangements for Daisy, a pleasant nod for the little ones, and a kiss for Daisy, he went away.

Daisy felt rather lonely when he was gone, in spite of Miss Collins' kind look, Lily's tight clasp of the hand, and Violet's, "We have real nice times in school. Don't be afraid." For she was far more shy with children than she was with grown people, probably because she had never had any companions of her own age; and the number of young faces, most of them strange, about her, made her long to be back again at Mrs. Forster's side. And they all looked at her a good deal, for her story was well known among them, and she was an object of great curiosity.

Lily observed this, as she took her seat with Daisy beside her, and thought she must speak up for her charge.

"Miss Collins," she said, "please to make a rule."

"Well," said Miss Collins, smiling; for Lily was constantly asking for new rules concerning things which did not suit her. She had begun with this more than a year ago when she was only a visitor at the school; and she was even now not a regular scholar, but only coming for a few weeks. For her papa and mamma had gone on a journey, and Lily, being lonely at home when Ella and the boys were at school, it had been arranged that she was to go with Ella in the morning. So she was rather a privileged person, and spoke her mind freely concerning that which did not please her, which the other children thought rather a joke, and were generally ready enough to fall in with Lily's rules. So now they all listened.

"Please to make a rule that nobody must stare, ma'am," said Lily: "it makes people feel so to be stared at,"--and Lily put up both hands to her cheeks,--"specially if they are new."

"Very true," answered Miss Collins: "let us all try to remember the Golden Rule, and then we shall neither stare nor do any thing else to hurt another's feelings."

Then she struck the little bell which stood upon her table, and all knew the school had begun, and they must be quiet.

Next calling Bessie Norton to her, Miss Collins gave her a number of Bibles, and the little girl handed one to each of her classmates. Then Miss Collins read a verse aloud, and the children followed, each in her turn.

"Minnie Grey may take the Bibles," said Miss Collins when this was done.

Minnie rose, and went from one to another collecting the Bibles. But instead of taking as many as she could conveniently carry at one time, giving them to Miss Collins, and coming back for the rest, she went on piling one on top of another, till one arm was quite full, when she came to Daisy and held out her other hand for her book. As she did so, the top one of the pile fell to the floor. Minnie stooped for it, and down went two or three more.

"Oh! bother the old things," said Minnie, in a low voice, but very impatiently.

Daisy had stooped to help her pick up the Bibles, but the glow her cheeks wore when she raised her head again was not all owing to that.

Bother the old things! What old things? Why, the Bibles, God's own Holy Word.

Daisy was very much shocked, and she looked up at Miss Collins, expecting to hear her reprove such _wicked words_, _she_ thought them.

But Miss Collins had not heard Minnie's exclamation, though the noise of the falling books had called her attention that way, and she said,--

"Minnie, my dear, you are careless with those Bibles: do you forget whose books they are?"

"I don't care," muttered Minnie, but not so that the lady could hear. Daisy heard again; and the thought passed through her mind, "What a wicked little girl Minnie must be!"

And yet Daisy was mistaken. If she had asked Minnie's parents, teacher, or playmates, they would all have told her that Minnie was an uncommonly good and pleasant little girl; truthful, obedient, industrious, and generous and obliging towards others. She had no thought now that she was breaking one of God's commandments; and she would have been both offended and grieved, if she had known what was in Daisy's mind, believing herself, as she did, to be innocent of any wrong.

DAISY AT STUDY.

V.

DAISY AT STUDY.

DAISY was soon at home with her schoolmates, and a great favorite among them.

It was not strange that they liked and were interested in her. She was such a gentle, modest, amiable little girl; watching and joining in the games and lessons of the others with a kind of innocent wonder which amused and touched them all. For Daisy was not at all accustomed to be with children of her own age, and their ways were all new to her.

And of course she was behind all the rest in her studies. She could not even read as well as Lily Ward; and had to begin with the simplest lessons, such as Lily and two or three of the very youngest children learned. At first this troubled her, and she feared the rest of the class would laugh at her.

But she soon found she need not have been afraid of that, for the rule of Miss Collins' infant class was the law of kindness; and any one of the little girls would have thought it almost a crime to laugh or mock at Daisy, for that which was her misfortune and not her fault.

They might now and then fall out a little among themselves, for they were by no means perfect children; sometimes there would be some selfishness shown, or even a few angry words pass from one to another; but, on the whole, they agreed about as well as any twenty little girls could be expected to do; and not one among them would have had the heart purposely to do an unkind thing to another. Least of all to Daisy Forster, whom they all looked upon with a kind of tender pity and interest, because of her sad and romantic history; and who was at once taken up by both teacher and scholars as a sort of twin pet with Lily, for whom allowances were to be made, and who was to be encouraged and aided as much as possible.

So Daisy found plenty of helpers, who, so far from laughing at her mistakes and backwardness, were rather inclined to think her quick and industrious, as indeed she was, trying hard to make up for lost time, and "catch up" with those of her own age.

She was almost too eager about this, and had to be checked now and then, for since the long illness which had followed the shipwreck, Daisy had never been strong; and too much fatigue or study, or even too much play, would make her nervous and sick, and her little head would become confused and ache. So now and then Mrs. Forster would have to take the books from her, and forbid more study, sending her out to play, or to work in the plot of ground which had been given her for a garden of her own.

She was not always pleased at this, and sometimes would be rather fretful and impatient. But Mrs. Forster soon found a way to put a stop to this.

One afternoon she found the little girl bending over her slate with flushed and heated cheeks, anxious eyes, and trembling hands.

"Daisy," she said, quietly, "what are you doing? Miss Collins has not given you lessons out of school, has she?"

"No, ma'am," said Daisy; "but I asked Ella Ward to set me a whole lot of sums so that I could do them at home, and I can't make this one come right. I know it is not right, 'cause Ella put the answers on the other side of the slate, and mine won't come the same, all I can do."

Mrs. Forster took the slate from her hand.

"This sum is too hard for you, Daisy," she said: "you do not know enough arithmetic for this."

"It is not any harder than the sums Lola and Violet and the other girls as large as I am do," answered Daisy, looking ready to burst out crying; "and I have to do arithmetic with the very little ones, like Lily, and it makes me ashamed; so I want to go on all I can. _Please_ give me the slate again, Aunt Gertrude," she added, as Mrs. Forster laid it beyond her reach.

"No, dear. I do not wish you to study out of school. I am glad you want to improve, but you have as much to do there as is good for you; and at home I want you to have rest and play. You are improving quite as fast as could be expected, and for a time you must be content to go on with those who are younger than yourself."

"But it makes me ashamed," pleaded Daisy, again.

"There is no reason for that," said Mrs. Forster, patting the hot cheek she raised towards her. "The other children do not laugh at you and make you uncomfortable, do they?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," said Daisy; "they are all so good to me, and when they can't help seeing what a dunce I am" (here Daisy's tears overflowed), "they always say kind things about how I never went to school before, and how my own dear mamma was drowned, and there was nobody to teach me till I came to you."

"You are not a dunce, dear," said the lady. "A child who idles away her time when she should be studying, and does not care whether or no she learns as much as is fit for her, is a dunce: not a little girl who really wishes to be industrious, but does not know quite as much as others of her own age only because God has not given her the same advantages in time past. No one will think my Daisy a dunce. Now, we must have no more studying at home, no more lessons than those Miss Collins sets you."

Daisy did not look satisfied: on the contrary, she even pouted a little.

"Daisy," said Mrs. Forster, "suppose Uncle Frank were to give you some beautiful and costly thing which would be of great use to you in time to come if you took good care of it, say a watch: what would you do with it?"

"Why! I _would_ take great care, oh! such care of it," said Daisy, opening her eyes in some surprise at the question. She did not see what that could have to do with her studies.

"I'd wind it up every night, and try to keep it right and safe every way I could. But I don't know if I am quite large enough to have a watch of my own, or take care of it; maybe the best way would be to ask you or Uncle Frank to keep it for me till I was older."

"And suppose for a while he gave you no key to this watch, but let it run down and be quiet?"

"I'd just put it away till he gave me a key, and be patient about it," said Daisy, wondering more and more.

"And if, by and by, when he gave you this key, you should go on winding and winding the watch farther and faster than it was right for it to go, till the wheels and springs were all spoiled and out of order, would Uncle Frank think you cared much for his gift?"

"Why, no, Aunt Gertrude; and he wouldn't think I cared much for him, either, to use his pretty present so."

"You are right, dear. And now I want my own little Daisy to see how it is with herself. God has given to you a young mind, bright and quick enough; but, for a while, He did not choose that it should do much work. But now He has given you the key by which you may wind it and set it to work; and if you use it without proper care, and so as to hurt and wear out this precious gift, would it not seem as if you cared very little about it, and did not respect and honor the Giver?"

"Yes'm," answered Daisy, beginning to see what Mrs. Forster meant; "but I never thought about that."

"I believe I never thought about it before, dear," said Mrs. Forster, smiling. "I am not afraid to praise you, Daisy; and I may safely say that I have never seen any little child who showed such true honor and reverence for her Maker, and all which belongs to Him. You must have been well taught, my child; and to know and remember such lessons is worth all the book learning in the world."

Daisy was pleased, as she always was when any one spoke to her of her long-lost home, or praised the teaching she had received from those who had loved and cared for her there. And from this time there was no further trouble about the lessons; for it was enough for Daisy to know that she was misusing any one of God's good gifts, to make her change her ways. Many a lesson might have been learned, and, indeed, had been learned, by those older and wiser than herself, from the loving care and respect paid by this little one to her Creator's name, and to all the works of His hand.

And it was a great trouble to her to hear the careless way in which many of her schoolmates used sacred names and things. They did not mean any harm; they did not think it any sin; but every day Daisy was shocked and distressed by hearing such words as "mercy," "gracious," "goodness," and "good heavens," and the like, from the lips of the other children, as they were about their play and study. It had become a habit with nearly all in the school; one caught it from another almost without knowing it; even Lily Ward, who once thought the clergyman "preached a sermon at her" because she said "hush up," now and then followed the example of the others when any thing vexed or surprised her. A few weeks at school had accustomed Lily to the constant use of expressions which a year ago she would have considered "real naughty words."

The older girls in Miss Sarah Collins' room had fallen into this bad habit as much, if not more, than the little ones of the infant class.

And it was not only this carelessness of speech in which they were all, large and small, to blame; but it seemed to Daisy so strange that they could handle and treat the Bible, God's holy Word, with so little reverence and respect, knocking it about among their other books as if it were no better than these last, even using it, sometimes, for purposes to which no book, even the most common one, should be put.

Daisy wondered that Miss Collins did not teach them better; but either she did not notice all this, or she did not think it of much consequence; certain it is that she did not check them, and the evil seemed to Daisy to grow worse from day to day.

At first she did not like to speak herself. You may wonder that this was so, since she had not feared to speak so plainly to General Forster, who was a grown gentleman, so much older than herself; but she had done that almost without knowing what she was saying, for, as you know, his profane words had startled her so that he was surprised, and he had almost forced her to tell him what had disturbed her.

And here she was with every thing strange around her, school, schoolmates, and teacher all new to her; so it is not astonishing that she was rather shy and felt afraid to interfere with the others, or to tell them that she thought they were doing wrong.

But by and by there came a day when she could no longer hold her peace.

DAISY A TEACHER.

VI.

DAISY A TEACHER.

ONE morning just after school commenced, a heavy shower came up; and when it was time for the recess, which was always given to the infant class at eleven o'clock, the ground was still so wet that the little ones were forced to find amusement within doors or upon the piazza.

"What shall we play?" asked Rosie Pierson.

"Lady Queen Fair," said Bessie Norton: "we'll go out on the piazza and play it."

"Yes," said Violet; "and Lily shall be Lady Queen Fair, and we'll dress her up a little. Miss Emily," as a third Miss Collins, who gave music lessons to the girls, passed by, "may we have a rose to put in Lily's hair for Lady Fair?"

The young lady smiled, stopped and pulled a couple of roses from the vine which wound itself around one of the pillars of the piazza, and gave them to Violet, then passed on.

Time had been when Violet would have hoped, perhaps would have asked to be Lady Fair herself, and been sulky and displeased if the other children had not agreed; but now she was very different, and more apt to prefer another before herself.

The roses were soon arranged, the one in the hair, the other in the bosom of the little Lady Queen, who took her dignities in the calmest manner. Meanwhile some of the other children were drawing forward one of the rustic chairs with which the piazza was furnished, to serve as a throne.

But the little queen, like many another royal lady before her, found her throne by no means an easy one.

"Ow!" she said, rubbing her little round white shoulders where she had scratched them against the rough bark of the twisted boughs which made the back of the chair, "ow! this is not nice at all, or comfortal. My feet don't come to the floor, and if I lean back I'm all scratched. I'd rather be a queen without a throne."

"Oh, no! You must have a throne," said Susy Edwards. "Queens have to."

"I don't see why," said Lily, rather pettishly; for she did not feel very well that morning, and that and the close heat of the day made her more fretful than usual. "I should think queens could do just as they have a mind to and make their subjiks do it too; and I don't see what they have to have their skin all scraped up for if they don't want to;" and Lily twisted her head to give an aggrieved look at the little fat shoulder with that red mark upon it.

"I'll fix you," said Lola. "I'll put Miss Collins' footstool under your feet and you shall have the big cushion behind you. Some one bring the cushion while I carry the stool."

The footstool was brought in a moment; but the cushion was not to be found.

"The big girls had it yesterday," said Fanny Satterlee. "I saw them with it in their recess when I was going home. There comes Cora Prime now; let's ask her. Cora, what did the big girls do with that cushion yesterday when they had done with it?"

"The Lord knows; I don't," said Cora, playfully tapping Fanny on the head with the roll of music in her hand.

"Oh!" exclaimed Lily.

Daisy did not speak; but as Cora's eye happened to fall upon her, her face said as much as Lily's "Oh!"

"What's the matter with you two?" asked Cora, looking from one to the other of the little girls, but still good-natured.

"You oughtn't to say that," said Lily.

"Ought not to say what?"

"The Lord knows," answered Lily.

"Well, don't He know?" asked Cora.

"No," said Lily, doubtfully, "I guess not. I don't believe He'd bother Himself with knowing about a worn-out old cushion what has a hole in the cover, and such things."

"Yes, He does, too," said Cora, laughing; "are not the very hairs of our head numbered?"

"Now, I _know_ you ought to be 'shamed," said Lily. "You're talking Bible; and that is not right, is it, Daisy?"

"No," said Daisy, as boldly as Lily herself could have done, for quoting Scripture in a careless manner was also a habit of many in the school.

"You two saucy monkeys! correcting your elders," said Cora, much amused. "I heard you both talking Bible to Miss Collins this morning with all the rest of your class."

"We were only saying what we learned in Sunday school yesterday," said Lily. "That's not the same thing. I _know_ it's not right to talk Bible that kind of a way. Papa says so, and he tells us not to do it."

"Your papa's saying so does not make a thing right or wrong," said Cora.

"Yes, it does, too!" said Lily. "My papa knows a whole lot, and he wouldn't tell a story for any thing. Cora, you'd better go to your music lesson: I 'speck Miss Emily wants you."

"Oh, you are very considerate for Miss Emily, all at once," said Cora, more amused than ever; "but you haven't told me why I shouldn't say, The Lord knows, when He does know."

Lily looked at Daisy, who stood by the arm of her chair, for help. The little one felt that Cora was wrong, but she did not exactly know how to answer, and she had noticed how careful Daisy was to honor the name of God.

"Is it not taking the name of God in vain?" said Daisy.

"Upon my word!" said Cora. "Do you mean to call that swearing?"

"Well, yes," said Lily, taking up the word, "a kind of baby swearing, I s'pose; but you know it's not very good of you, Cora."

"Everybody says such things: they don't mean any thing," said Cora.

"Not _everybody_," answered Lily. "Daisy don't."

"Then Daisy's uncommonly good," said Cora.

"Yes, she is," replied Lily; "and I s'pose _everybody_ ought to be uncommonly good and never say them."

Cora laughed again.

"Everybody must mind their p's and q's before you: mustn't they, Lily?" and away she ran to her music lesson.

"Here's the cushion," said Rosie Pierson, running out from the school-room. "I found it in the closet under the shelf where those careless big girls left it, I s'pose."

The cushion was put behind Lily's shoulders, but still the little queen fidgeted on her throne and declared she was not yet "comfortal."

"'Cause if I lean back against the cushion my feet won't touch the stool," she said.

"We'll put something else on the stool to make it higher," said Nettie Prime, who was trying to arrange Lily satisfactorily: "what shall we take? Oh, I know. Daisy, run and bring the big Bible off Miss Collins' table for Lily to put her feet on."

Daisy, who made a motion to start forward as Nettie began to speak, stood still when she heard what she called for.

"Make haste," said the latter, impatiently: "we won't have a bit of time to play."

Daisy did not move, but stood with rising color, trying to make up her mind to speak.

"Oh! you disobliging thing!" said Violet, and she ran for the book.

"Oh! don't," said Daisy, as Violet came back and stooped to put the Bible on the footstool; "I didn't mean to be disobliging, but we ought not to use the Bible to play with."

"Pooh!" said Violet: "Lily's little feet won't hurt it. It's all worn out, any way. The cover is real shabby."

"I didn't mean that," answered Daisy; "I meant because it is God's book, and we ought to treat it very carefully."

"Oh, fiddle! How awfully particular you are, Daisy!" said Minnie Grey. "Why, girls, do you know, the other day, when I was playing paper-dolls with her and I turned up a Bible to make the side of a house, she took it away, and when I put it back again 'cause it stood up better than the other books, she said she wouldn't play if I did so with the Bible."

"I s'pose Daisy would call that 'taking God's name in vain,'" said another, half reproachfully; "wouldn't you, Daisy?"

"I think it is something the same," answered Daisy, feeling as if all the others were finding fault with her and thinking her "awfully particular," a crime which no little girl likes to have laid to her charge.

"I don't see how," said Lola. "I know we ought not to play with the Bible; but I don't see how it is taking God's name in vain."

"But the Bible is God's book, and He told it to the men who wrote it, and His name is in it a great many times," said Daisy, "and I think it seems like taking it in vain to play with it or to put things upon it, or to knock it about like our other school-books. And it is not right to say 'the Lord knows,' and 'mercy,' and 'gracious,' and such words, when we are just playing, or when we are provoked."

"What is the harm?" asked Rosie. "Mercy and gracious are not God's name."

"Well, no," said Daisy, slowly, not exactly knowing how to explain herself. "And maybe I make a mistake; but it does seem to me as if it was a kind of--of--"

"Of little swearing, as Lily says," said Lola.

"Yes," said Daisy. "Rosie thinks it is no harm; but even if it is not much harm, I don't see what is the good of it. We can talk just as well without saying such words."

"I guess they are pretty wicked," said Lily. "The day mamma went away, I said 'good heavens,' and she said 'Lily! Lily!' very quick, like she does when I do something very naughty, and she asked me where I learned that; and I told her Elly said it. I didn't mean to tell a tale about Elly; but mamma looked sorry, and she told me never to say it again. I guess 'mercy' is 'most the same, and I guess I won't say it any more; and, Daisy, if I hear the other girls say those words, I'll help you correct 'em."

Lily promised this with an air of such grave importance that the other children laughed. Not in the least abashed, Lily went on,--

"Papa's coming home day after to-morrow, and I'll ask him to tell me a whole lot about God's name, and why it is wrong to say those things; and then I'll tell all you girls. But I'm not coming to school any more when mamma comes home; so you'll have to come to my house, and I'll have a swearing class, and teach you all about it."

Lily's words might have been taken with a different meaning from that which she intended to give them; but the other children understood her, and that was enough.

"But, Daisy," said Lola, "how do you know so much about these things when you don't know a great deal about every-day lessons, and have had no one to teach you for so long?"

"I don't know," said Daisy. "I think my own mamma who was drowned used to teach me in the home I used to have;" and the dreamy look came into her eyes which they always wore when she spoke of her far-away home and those she had loved there. "I think I've forgotten a good many things," she added; "but you know I couldn't forget what mamma taught me about Jesus and what He wanted us to do if we loved Him. And I think if we do love Him we won't say words about His name, His heaven, or any thing that is His, that are not very good and gentle, and that we are very sure He would like us to say."

"But you are so _very_ particular, Daisy," said Minnie; "I think you are most _too_ particular."

"I didn't think we could be too particular about doing what Jesus likes," said Daisy.

The other children had all gathered about Daisy, and were listening with interest to what she said. Perhaps they heard her with more patience than they would have given to any one else; for Daisy was a kind of mystery to them, and they looked upon her as a sort of fairy or princess in disguise, and would not have been at all surprised to hear the most extravagant stories about her, for she was "just like a story-book child." Lily had said so one day when she was speaking of her at home.

"No," said Lola, thoughtfully; "but it does not seem as if such little things could be wrong. I know it can't be right to play with the Bible or say its words just when we are joking or for our own common talk; but I don't see the harm of saying 'goodness,' or 'mercy,' or 'heavens,' or those words which you never will say, Daisy; they are not God's name, and I don't see how it is taking it in vain to say them."

Daisy looked thoughtful. She felt she was right, and wanted to explain herself; but she was rather shy and could not find words to do so.

But Lily, whom shyness never troubled, came to her aid.

"Never mind," she said: "I'll ask papa just as soon as he comes home, and he'll tell us all about it; and if he says it is naughty, why, it is, and we won't do it; and if he says it's good enough, why, we will. That's the way to fix it."

Here the bell rang.

"There, now," said Susy Edwards, "we have to go in, and we've wasted all our time talking, and never had a bit of good of our recess."

But I think Susy was mistaken, and that they had one and all gained more good from their talk than they could have done from any amount of play; for it had set more than one young mind thinking; and from this day, even the most careless among them would check herself when she found she was on the point of using these words which had grown so common among them, more from want of thought than from any wish or temptation to do wrong.

THE SWEARING CLASS.

VII.

THE SWEARING CLASS.

WHEN Lily's papa and mamma came home, she was so glad to see them, and there was so much to hear and to talk about, that she quite forgot her purpose of asking her father to teach her about the third commandment. Besides, she no longer went to school now that her mother was at home, but had her lesson each day with her as she had done before Mrs. Ward went on her journey; and so she was not as apt to hear or to say those careless words which Daisy Forster had said it was not right to use.

But it was at last brought to her mind one evening as the family all sat at the tea-table.

"Mamma," said Ella, "will you let Lily and me have a tea-party to-morrow? I want to ask half a dozen of our girls, and I suppose Lily would like to have a few of the little ones at the same time."

"Yes," answered Mrs. Ward, "you may each ask six of your most intimate friends."

"Can Walter and I ask some of the fellows?" said Ned.

"Oh, mercy! no," said Ella: "we don't want any boys. It is not to be a regular party, Ned. I just want the girls to spend the afternoon and drink tea; and it makes more fuss to have boys too."

"Goodness me! You needn't get into such a way about it," said Ned.

"Children," said Lily, her brother's and sister's words bringing back to her what Daisy had said, "children, you needn't either of you swear about it."

Lily's efforts to keep the family straight were generally considered as a good joke, and her reproofs and advice received with a laugh; but this plain speaking was rather _too_ much for either Ella or Ned, and the former exclaimed,--

"Well, who is swearing, I'd like to know?"

"And who gave you leave to correct your elders?" said Ned.

"Nobody: I just took it," said unabashed Lily; and then, turning to her father, she exclaimed, "Papa, I b'lieve the girls in our school are pretty heathen, and don't know enough about the comman'ments. So I told them we'd have a swearing class, and I'd ask you to teach it, 'cause I s'pose you know a good deal about swearing; and this will be a good chance when they come to-morrow."

This speech turned the vexation of Ella and Ned into amusement, and they laughed with the others.

"I don't think your playmates will thank you for asking them here to take tea and then bringing them up for a lecture from me, my pet," said Mr. Ward.

"Yes: they will, papa. They want to know about it, and I think we'd better make a swearing party of this. I b'lieve it would do those big girls good too. They swear, oh, dreadfully! and they don't seem to think they do, least Cora don't. Mamma, let's make a rule we won't have any swearing in this house: won't you?"

"Certainly," said mamma, smiling; "and I think we must find out what _swearing_ is, and be careful not to break the rule."

"If one is going to call 'goodness' and 'mercy,' and such things, swearing, one might as well give up talking altogether," said Ella.

"Perhaps not exactly swearing," said her father; "but the use of them is a bad habit, and one that I have noticed is quite too frequent among all the young people of this place. It is growing stronger too, as all such habits do, and going from bad to worse. But I must go out now, and have not time to talk to you about it. If Lily can persuade her little friends to take the 'swearing class,' as part of their afternoon's entertainment to-morrow, well and good; if not, we will have a little private talk among ourselves some other time."

Ella was not at all pleased by Lily's proposal; and hoping that it would pass from the child's mind before the afternoon, she was careful not to make her remember it by the use of any such words as had called forth Lily's reproof.

This had very nearly proved successful; and in the excitement of arranging her baby-house, setting out the new tea-set mamma had brought her, and dressing the doll which had been papa's present, Lily had almost forgotten her plan for mingling wholesome instruction with the amusement provided for her young friends.

There were Lola and Violet Swan, Daisy Forster, Rosie Pierson, Minnie Grey, and Bessie Norton; and they were all having a real good time sitting around a small table and playing tea out of the new china set, when Minnie said,--

"I have a secret to tell all of you, if you'll promise never to tell."

"I won't," said Violet.

"On your sacred word and honor?" said Minnie.

"On my sacred word and honor," repeated Violet.

"And you, Rosie?" asked Minnie.

"On my word and honor," said Rosie.

"Sacred?" said Minnie.

"Sacred. Sacred word and honor," was Rosie's answer.

Lily repeated the words as desired, and next came Daisy's turn.

"I won't tell," she said, when Minnie looked at her.

"On your sacred word and honor?" asked Minnie.

"I promise I won't tell, Minnie."

"But you must say on your word and honor."

"I can't," said Daisy.

"Then I shan't tell you; and you're real mean, Daisy Forster," said Minnie. "Why won't you say so?"

"I don't see why I need, and I don't know if it is quite right," answered Daisy, coloring.

"Oh, Daisy Forster, what a girl you are!" said Rosie.

"Well," said Lily, "there's nothing left, 'cept these two caramels. Daisy, you eat up this; and, Bessie, you eat up the other. Now the tea-party is all done, and we'll go and ask papa about that comman'ment. He's been playing croquet with the big girls, but they seem to be resting now."

Lily was right. Mr. Ward had been persuaded to make the eighth in a game of croquet, for he was a great favorite with all the young people in Glenwood, and his presence never put any check upon their games or pleasure parties.

But the afternoon proved rather warm for exercise, even the gentle one of bewitching croquet; and, after a long game was finished, the whole party were ready to agree to Ella's proposal that they should take a rest, and send to the house for some cooling drink.

So Mr. Ward was at liberty to attend to Lily, when she came rushing up to him, followed, rather more slowly, by the rest of the children.

"Papa," she said, throwing herself across his knee, as he sat upon the green mound which was raised about the foot of one of the fine elm-trees which shaded the croquet-ground, "papa, Daisy says we oughtn't to say upon our words and honors! Oughtn't we? And will you teach us about taking God's name in vain now? It's the _singalest_ circumstance, but I went and forgot all about the swearing class, till Daisy said that."

"A very singular circumstance, certainly;" said Mr. Ward, lifting Lily to a seat upon his knee, and smiling, while the other girls laughed at her speech. "I am quite willing to have a little talk with you all on this subject; but tell me first what you want to know."

"Daisy is so awfully particular, Mr. Ward," said Minnie, in an aggrieved tone. "She won't let us say any thing; at least, she says every thing is 'wrong.'"

"Every thing?" said Mr. Ward: "that is bad. Does Daisy want you all to keep silence? That _must_ spoil your play."

"Oh, no!" said Minnie, "not that; but she says such lots of things are wrong to say. Why, sir, she won't say 'upon her word and honor,' 'cause she don't think it is right."

"Why do you want her to say it?" asked Mr. Ward.

"I was just going to tell them all a great secret, and I wanted her to promise, on her sacred word and honor, she would never tell; and she wouldn't do it."

"So Daisy is apt to break her promises, is she?" said the gentleman, with a smile at Daisy, which told very plainly that he was only joking.

"Oh, no, sir!" said Minnie. "Indeed she is not. Daisy always tells the truth, and never does what she says she won't; at least, we never knew her to do it: did we, girls?"

A chorus of young voices was raised in Daisy's favor.

"And yet you cannot trust her unless she swears to what she promises," said Mr. Ward.

"Swears, sir!" said Minnie. "I'm sure I don't want her to swear! 'Word and honor' are not bad words, are they?"

"Not in themselves, certainly;" answered Mr. Ward. "Many a thing which is good in itself when properly used, becomes bad and hurtful if put to a wrong purpose. Now to swear is to say, by some word or person which you consider holy and sacred, that you will or will not do, that you have or have not done, a certain thing. Suppose some man were accused of a crime, and that the judge were about to try him, and punish him if he were guilty, and it was thought that I knew whether or no the man had done that of which he was accused. So I am called to the court, and there made to promise that I will tell the truth, and nothing but the truth; and to make sure of this I am made to lay my hand on the Bible,--God's holy word,--and call upon Him, to hear me tell what I know. And this is considered a very solemn thing, even by many who have little care or respect for God in other ways; and it is called swearing, or taking the oath."

"They ought to be 'shamed of theirselves," said Lily, indignantly; "they ought to know you would never tell a story, papa. And to go and make you swear too! I wouldn't do it if I was you; but I'd tell 'em the third comman'ment, and run away fast from them."

"But if this is done in the fear of God, and as a sort of prayer that He will hear and help us to tell that which is true, it is not taking His name in vain, Lily," said Mr. Ward; "and to do it falsely is considered even by men to be a great crime. This is called perjury; and if any one is found guilty of it, he is severely punished by the law. Now it may be wise, and even necessary, for a man to take an oath at such a time as this, when the very life of another may depend on whether he tells the truth or no; but it can hardly be necessary for one little girl at play with another to make her promise sure by swearing to it. For to say 'by your sacred word and honor' is neither more nor less than a sort of swearing or taking an oath that what you say is true."

"Then we'll make a rule not to say it any more," said Lily. "We didn't know it was naughty before, papa. But please tell us now about other words. Daisy says we mustn't say 'mercy,' and 'gracious,' and 'heavens,' and maybe we mustn't; but why is that swearing? Swearing is taking God's name in vain, and how do such words take His name in vain if we don't speak it? And she thinks playing with the Bible, or saying its words when we are playing or just talking common talk, is taking God's name in vain, too. Is it?"

"I will tell you," said Mr. Ward. "Suppose, Lily, that some great king or queen, or the president of our own country, were to come here; would you not wish to be particularly polite and respectful to them, both in your manner and way of speaking?"

"Um-m-m, I don't know," answered Lily, doubtfully; "not partic'lar. I guess I'd just as lieve be saucy to them as to any one else."

Mr. Ward saw this would not do, at least, not for Lily: he must go higher than earthly rulers.

"Suppose, then," he said, "that Jesus should come down here among us, so that we could see Him with our eyes, walking and talking with us, what would you all do?"

"I'd fall down and worship Him," said Minnie.

"I'd listen to every word He said, and never speak one myself for fear I should miss one," said Daisy; "and then I'd remember them all the days of my life."

"Dear child!" said Mr. Ward, laying his hand fondly on hers: "I believe you do treasure your Lord's words and try to live according to them."

"I'd ask Him to put His hand on my head and bless me just as He did those other little children when He was on earth before," said Lola, softly.

"So would I. And I'd be glad there were no disciples to forbid us to come to Him," said Lily. "I s'pose they thought Jesus wouldn't care about children; but He did, didn't He? And you wouldn't think so, papa, would you?" and the little child laid her hand lovingly against her father's cheek. "I'd keep very close to Him all the time He was here, and take fast hold of His hand, only I wouldn't be troublesome, but just keep as still as a mouse; and I'd give Him every thing of mine that He wanted."

"So you would all show your love and reverence for Him by every means in your power," said Mr. Ward, "trying not to grieve or offend Him by treating His name or His presence with the least carelessness or disrespect, but letting Him see that you honored the one and were blessed by the other: is it not so?"

"Yes, sir," came from the older as well as the younger children.

"And if, after He had gone away, He should send you each a letter, telling you what He wanted you to do, how you were to love and serve Him, and in which you would find all the advice, help, and comfort you might need at any time,--how would you treat that letter?"

"I'd keep it all my life, and take such good care of it," said Rosie.

"I'd read it, and read it, and read it; and kiss it, and kiss it, and kiss it," said Lily, "and then I'd put it in my bosom, and keep it, oh! so carefully."

"And so would I, and I, and I," said the rest, satisfied to have Lily for spokeswoman.

"And if you saw any one misusing that letter, how would you feel?" asked Mr. Ward.

"I'd be very provoked with them," answered Lily, "and I think I wouldn't love them any more, 'cept it was you, papa, or mamma, or Elly, or any one of my own that I _have_ to love; and then I'd cry, and ask you not to serve my Jesus' letter so."

"You mean the Bible is Jesus' letter to us: don't you, sir?" asked Daisy.

"Yes; and, dear children, our Lord's presence is here among us as much as if He were in man's form which He once wore on earth. His ear is as quick to hear our words of love and praise, or those of carelessness and disrespect, as it was then; His eye as ready to see the use we make of the precious Word He has given us. But we forget this when we use His book more carelessly than we would any gift from an earthly friend, or when we take His name lightly or without thought upon our lips. To do this is to take it in vain, and it displeases Him."

"But, Mr. Ward," said Minnie, "it is not cursing and swearing to say 'mercy,' and 'gracious,' and 'good Lord,' and such things, is it?"

"Not cursing, certainly: that is to use God's name profanely, or to call on Him to destroy us or other people; and this is a most terrible sin. But, Minnie, the use of such words in play or thoughtlessness is a bad habit, and leads to worse. Suppose a man breaks open a bank here, and takes all the money from it: that is stealing, is it not?"

"Why, yes, sir," answered Minnie.

"And suppose you take a sugar-plum belonging to your sister: it is a very small thing compared to the money taken from the bank, but is it not stealing, all the same?"

"Yes, sir; and if I was to be so bad as to take Julia's sugar-plums, I'm afraid I'd maybe steal something worse some time."

"Just so," said the gentleman; "and now you see why it is not wise or right to make use of such expressions. It is, as Lily says, a kind of little swearing, and may lead to worse. Besides, it is very useless. You can surely believe one another,--unless, indeed, it is some false and deceitful child,--without saying 'upon your sacred word and honor,' 'as sure as you live,' 'Heaven knows,' and so forth. And there is so little temptation to fall into this sin that it seems strange it should be so common. There is nothing to be gained by it, even of this world's good,--no pleasure, no profit. It is only an idle, useless habit, most displeasing and vexing to the holy ear of Him whose commandment we break without thought or care. Goodness and mercy and graciousness belong to the Almighty; and so, too, we must take heed that we do not speak of what belongs to Him in an irreverent, careless way. And now I think we have had enough talk on this subject for this afternoon. You did not ask your friends here that I might lecture them."

"Oh, yes! I did, papa," said Lily; "for we all deserved it very much, 'specially the big girls. But, papa, do you believe the Lord troubles Himself to know where the girls put an old, worn-out cushion, and such things; and if He does, ought we to say He does?"