Chapter VIII

Monday morning rose bright and clear. For many days Aunt Barbara had been steadily gaining, and now she was coming down stairs, for the first time. Hatty felt it a pleasure to wait upon her mother, while she assisted the old lady to dress, and even Marcus seemed pleased to be useful. He and Jane carried down the old-fashioned easy chair, which Aunt Barbara particularly fancied, and then he drew a small table near it, placed a footstool beside it, and stood waiting to see if he could be of any further assistance. Mr. Lee helped Aunt Barbara down very tenderly, and looked at her as affectionately as if she were a dear little child instead of a poor invalid, tottering with age and sickness.

Marcus expected to hear Aunt Barbara say, "This room is too light for anybody," or "My! who could have chosen such a place for my chair?" but he was mistaken.

Aunt Barbara sunk down among the pillows which Hatty had arranged, quite exhausted, and for a while was too weak to say one word. Mrs. Lee brought her a glass of wine, and a light biscuit, and when Aunt Barbara had taken them she seemed better.

Then she looked round the cheerful library, and said, "How pleasant it is here, and how nicely you have prepared for me! And you helped, too, Marcus; that was kind!"

"I am very glad you are pleased!" said Marcus; and away he ran to school, feeling more light-hearted than he had done for many days. Mrs. Lee said she would take care of the children in the nursery, as Jane must be busy, and leave Hatty with Aunt Barbara. Hatty was glad to be trusted, and she brought her sewing, and took a low seat near the old lady.

Aunt Barbara did not seem inclined to talk at first, and Hatty kept very quiet, though every now and then she opened her mouth as if she were going to speak, and then shut it again quickly.

Hatty had learned that there are often times when older people do not care to hear even pleasant young voices. She had found out that a little happy child may show a great deal of unselfishness by keeping quiet, when she would gladly let her tongue speak out the joy that is in her heart. Hatty tried to think over all the hymns she had ever learned, and so be silent until Aunt Barbara should choose to speak.

Hatty's lips were beginning to feel quite stiff with their unusual effort, when Aunt Barbara said, "Hatty, my dear."

Hatty looked up suddenly, (Aunt Barbara had never called her "my dear" before,) but she only said "What, ma'am," and then waited to see what would come next.

"Do you love your grandma?" asked Aunt Barbara.

"Indeed I do!" said Hatty, warmly. "She is the dearest and sweetest old lady in the world!"

"She is older than I am, I believe, and a great deal more wrinkled,--at least I have heard so!" said Aunt Barbara.

"I don't know, I never thought about that; she looks very sweet to me!" said Hatty, with a puzzled look.

"I have had a notion," said Aunt Barbara, "that children did not like old people, and perhaps I have not tried to make myself pleasant to them. Do you think if I tried to be like your grandma you could love me, too?" and the old lady looked earnestly at the little girl.

"O Aunt Barbara, I love you now!" said Hatty affectionately; "and you grow more like grandma every day."

"Dear child!" said Aunt Barbara, and she laid her thin hand on the head of the little girl. After a moment's pause she went on--"Hatty, I think I must have been very cross before I was sick; somehow everything seemed wrong to me. I am sorry!"

"I and Marcus and Meg and all of us are sorry we were so naughty. It was our fault, Aunt Barbara,--and we mean to be better," said Hatty, eagerly.

"Poor old Aunt Barbara did wrong, too, child. God has laid her on her bed of sickness to think, and he has raised her up again for some good purpose. Perhaps he wanted to give her an opportunity to be more like what a person ought to be, who has had more than seventy years of blessings, and who has the promise of a home in Heaven. Aunt Barbara means to try not to be fretful, and you children must have patience with her if she don't always speak just as she should."

The old lady was in earnest, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Hatty rose and wiped them away,--then she kissed Aunt Barbara, tenderly, and said, "We will never think any harm of what dear Aunt Barbara says,--for we all love you, and mean to make you very happy."

Aunt Barbara now asked Hatty to sing some sweet hymns; and she looked so quiet and peaceful as she listened, that Hatty could not help thinking that Jesus must be very near to old people, who are almost at the golden gate of Heaven.

From that time Hatty was much with Aunt Barbara; and it was touching to see how hard the old lady tried to be gentle and pleasant.

Hatty's example had a great influence on the other children. Meg learned to skip more softly as she passed Aunt Barbara's door; and Harry never ate an orange without pattering along to Aunt Barbara's room, to give her a taste.

In their hearts the children often acknowledged that it was their own thoughtlessness which had brought about much of the old lady's harshness; and now that they were more gentle and considerate, they found her a dear, kind friend, who had pleasant stories to tell, of days gone by; and with her Hatty had many sweet talks of the loving Saviour, whom they were both striving to serve.