Chapter III: Opposition

"I am with you alway."

MABEL'S friends exclaimed and protested against this new freak. Her father and mother insisted that her health was insufficient; that the tax upon her nervous system would be too severe; that she already had duties enough at home and in society to fill up her time. Mr. and Mrs. Wynn belonged to that large class of professing Christians, who, whenever the call comes for more labourers in the vineyard, talk largely of home duties and influence in society, the demands of their position, and the like, excusing their worldly-mindedness with this sort of twaddle about "the claims of society."

As for Mabel's health, an incessant round of parties, picnics, pleasure excursions, making calls and entertaining company, was never supposed to overtax her nervous system. It was only when she was compelled to step outside the world of fashion that her parents' anxieties were awakened. They never connected the days of languor, headache, and lassitude with late hours and excitement. The "claims of society" never overtax body or mind!

"But, father," said Mabel, "I think this is one of the duties I owe to society—to help those boys into right ways, if I can, so that they may be its ornaments when they get to be men."

"That's just what I object to!" interposed Mrs. Wynn. "Those boys! If you had chosen a class of sweet little girls, it wouldn't be quite so bad. But those rough, uncouth boys! Why, they'll hang about you, step on your dress, use your fan, handle your parasol, speak to you in the street, and annoy you in a dozen different ways."

Mabel smiled at her mother's list of the unpleasant features of the case. It would be such a terrible thing to have Herbert Bradford or Lewie Amesbury lift his cap gracefully, as either of them knew how to do, and accompany the act with a smiling, "Good morning, Miss Wynn!"

Then, too, she remembered that young Mr. Cranson had stepped upon her dress at the picnic, and tore off a yard or two of ruffling, and Dr. Myers had played with her fan, as one or more broken splints would testify, and her mother had not seemed to look upon either as unpardonable offences. But young Mr. Cranson was the son of a millionaire, and Dr. Myers was—ah! Well, he was Dr. Myers! Perhaps he will speak for himself.

Mrs. Wynn continued, not noticing Mabel's amused look—

"Besides, you won't be able to manage them. I've heard Mr. Clarke say it was the worst class in school. They have had I don't know how many teachers within the last six months. The last was Professor Mills. I shouldn't think you would undertake where he had failed."

It was true, that class of bright-eyed, eager-faced boys had the reputation of being the most unmanageable set in the school, and Mabel know it. She answered—

"Mother, I did not choose—" She hesitated. Should she speak of the entire consecration she had made of her young life to the cause of Christ? Would they understand her if she told them that she believed God had called her to that very class? It was only a moment: then she went on—

"If I give myself to the Sabbath-school work, or any other work for the Master, it is not for me to choose the place. If I am called to this post, I shall, in some way, be made equal to it."

"But, Mabel," continued her mother, "it will be so very inconvenient. You cannot walk home, and Michael will not like driving back for you. If you persist in this absurd notion, I suppose I shall have to give up going to church, for I cannot endure the fatigue of remaining to Sabbath-school."

"O mother! It won't be so bad as that. The church is only half-way to the seminary, and I used to walk to school and home again every day in pleasant weather, and I ought not to have grown so delicate in two years as to be unable to walk a quarter of a mile. I do it very often now when out calling or shopping."

"Yes, I know; but there will be rainy Sundays, and besides the dinner hour will interfere. Dear me! I do wish you would give up the ridiculous notion. Everything will be turned upside down if you persist."

Mabel was slightly amused at the idea of her mother's well-ordered establishment being so easily reversed. Then she looked grave as she thought if it were a music lesson, or a dancing lesson, or a croquet club, at any hour of any week-day, breakfast, dinner, or supper would speedily adjust itself to the arrangement. Of so much more apparent importance were these things than the grand work of saving souls, of training the young for the life in this world and for that which is to follow, and which is eternal! Dinner or the Master's work—which shall take precedence?

"Mother," she said, calmly, "there are always difficulties in the way of any undertaking of importance, and I suppose that it is a part of our business to overcome or push them aside. As for rainy Sundays, you and father very seldom go out in unpleasant weather, and I think Michael will help me over that difficulty. As for dinner, I'll take a lunch and wait for supper."

Mrs. Wynn had other objections to urge, or thought she had.

"How obstinate you are, Mabel! I don't want you turned into a prim young woman, going about with your arms full of Testaments in black covers, and Tract Society publications without any covers at all, mixing up with all sorts of people, and getting put on committees and appointed as delegate to conventions, and all that sort of thing. And then if one of those horrid boys gets the measles or mumps, he will be sure to send for you to visit him instead of the minister. Don't be a fanatic, I beg of you."

Mabel made no reply, and her mother continued—

"I don't want to be understood as being opposed to Sunday-schools. I think them a very good thing in their way, and you know that your father is very liberal in giving for the cause. But there are plenty of people to carry them on—people who have nothing else to do—people who are not in society, and who make the concerts, excursions, and such things a sort of substitute for the entertainments of our circle. For them it is all very well, but as for you—"

"As for me, mother," interrupted Mabel, "I beg your pardon for rudeness, but I want to finish that sentence. As for me, I believe that I ought to help. It is Christ's work, and I have no real excuse for standing idle. I want you to consent, just as you would if I proposed to join Professor Mills's Greek class. Let me try it for a few months. It may not be so annoying as you think."

Mr. Wynn had occupied himself with the morning paper while this talk went on, but he had not been so absorbed as to lose the drift of the arguments. Mrs. Wynn really fancied that she had used powerful arguments, while Mabel had but one to urge. "I think I ought," was sufficient for her, and to this her father now responded,—

"'As he thinketh in his heart so is he.' I think, Helen, you'll have to yield the point. Mabel's one argument really outweighs all ours. Let her try it."

Mabel looked her thanks, and the ever-courteous Mr. Wynn bowed himself out, and hurried away to the store.

"There!" exclaimed his wife. "I might have known how it would be. However strongly your father may be set against any of your odd fancies, he is sure to come around, and you get your own way at last. I only wonder that you were not entirely spoiled, for you have had everything you wanted ever since you were born."

"That's so, mother," laughed Mabel. "And who gave me the gilt toilet set to play with, and the inlaid work-box for a doll-house, and let me handle those choice prints that show my fingermarks until this very day? Who coaxed father into giving me a gold watch as soon as I was fairly in my teens, and how did I get the white pony, and a host of other things? I guess somebody besides father would have to own to part of the spoiling."

"Oh, but those were reasonable things compared with some of your whims. But never mind now, the question seems to be settled, so we won't talk any more about it. Just run and tell Miss Moore that she may finish the blue poplin skirt this morning, and I will be in about eleven to have the grosgrain fitted."

Thus Mrs. Wynn dismissed the subject and turned to one more agreeable; and after all, the whole matter seemed so very unimportant, not worth making a fuss over. Very likely Mabel would soon tire of her undertaking. Anyway, she did not propose to trouble herself further about the affair. Mrs. Wynn was somewhat inclined to aristocratic ideas, and somewhat chary of her welcome and favours to those outside of "our set." Then, too, she had a horror of fanaticism; and while she rejoiced that Mabel had early taken her place among Christ's disciples, she thought her too enthusiastic, feared she would be over-zealous, and was distressed with apprehension lest some of the proprieties of their circle should be disregarded. She did not see that Mabel was making high attainments in the Christian life, that God was fitting her to do him service. It seemed a lowly place to which he had called her. Was it?