Chapter IV: Part 4

"No, I am not hardly used; my life is crowned with mercies, of the very least of which I am utterly unworthy," her mother answered, gently.

"And, my child, I find that any work is sweet when done 'heartily as to the Lord and not unto men!' What sweeter than a service of love! 'Be ye followers of God as dear children.'"

"Yes," said Aunt Wealthy, coming in at the moment; "'as dear children,' not as servants or slaves, but doing the will of God from the heart; not that we may be saved, but because we are saved; our obedience not the ground of our acceptance; but the proof of our love to Him, our faith in Him who freely gives us the redemption purchased for us by His own blood. Oh what a blessed religion it is! how sweet to belong to Jesus and to owe everything to him!"

"I feel it so," Mrs. Keith said, with an undertone of deep joy in her sweet voice.

"And I," whispered Mildred, laying her head in her mother's lap as she knelt at her side, as had been her wont in childish days.

They were all silent after that for many minutes, sitting there in the gloaming; Mrs. Keith's hand passing softly, caressingly over her daughter's hair and cheeks; then Mildred spoke.

"Let me try it, mother dear; teaching the children, I mean. You know there is nothing helps one more to be thorough; and I want to fit myself for teaching if ever I should have my own living to earn."

"Well, well, my child, you may try."

"That's my own dear mother!" exclaimed the girl joyfully, starting up to catch and kiss the hand that had been caressing her. "Now, I must arrange my plans. I shall have to be very systematic in order to do all I wish."

"Yes," said Miss Stanhope, "one can accomplish very little without system, but often a great deal with it."

Mildred set to work with cheerfulness and a great deal of energy and determination, and showed herself not easily conquered by difficulties; the rest of that week was given to planning and preparing for her work, and on the following Monday her long neglected studies were resumed and her duties as family governess entered upon.

These took up the morning from nine to twelve, but by early rising and diligence she was able to do a good deal about the house before the hour for lessons to begin.

Her mother insisted that she must have an hour for recreation every afternoon, taking a walk when the weather permitted; then another for study, and the two with Mr. Lord left but a small margin for anything else; the sewing and reading with mother and sisters usually filled out the remainder of the day.

Sometimes her plans worked well and she was able to go through the round of self-imposed duties with satisfaction to herself and to that of her mother and aunt, who looked on with great interest and were ever on the watch to lend a helping hand and keep hindrances out of her way.

But these last would come now and again, in the shape of callers, accidents, mischievous pranks on the part of the little ones or delinquencies on that of the maid of all work, till at times Mildred's patience and determination were sorely tried.

She would grow discouraged, be nearly ready to give up, then summon all her energies to the task, battle with her difficulties and for a time rise superior to them.

But a new foe appeared upon the field and vanquished her. It was the ague, attacking now one, and now another of the family; soon they were seldom all well and it was no uncommon thing for two or three to be down with it at once. Viny took it and left, and they hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry.

Governessing had to be given up, nursing and housework substituted for that and for sewing and reading, while still for some weeks longer the lessons with Mr. Lord were kept up; but at length they also had to be dropped, for Mildred herself succumbed to the malaria and grew too weak, ill and depressed for study.

Chapter Twelfth.

"We're not ourselves,
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body."
--SHAKS. KING LEAR.

THE neighbors were very kind; coming in with offers of assistance in nursing the sick, bringing dainties to tempt their appetites, encouraging them with the assurance that they were but sharing the common lot; "almost everybody expected a chill about once in two or three weeks; especially this time of year; and they weren't often disappointed, and thought themselves fortunate if they could stop at one paroxysm till the week came round again.

"Quinine would generally stop it, and when people had a long siege of the ague, they often got used to it so far as to manage to keep up and about their work; if not at all times at least between the chills, which as a general thing came only every other day.

"Indeed it was no unusual thing for them to feel quite bright and well on the intermediate day."

The Lightcaps were not a whit behind the others in these little acts of kindness. Rhoda Jane forgot her envy of Mildred on learning that she was sick and seemed to have lost her relish for food.

One morning Miss Stanhope, who was getting breakfast, was favored with an early call from Miss Lightcap.

She appeared at the open kitchen door basket in hand, and marched in without stopping to knock. "I heerd Miss Mildred was sick and couldn't eat nothin'," she said; "and I knowed you hadn't no garden sass o' your own; so I fetched over some tomats; we have a lot this year, real splendid big ones, and there ain't nothin' tastes better when you're gettin' over the agur, than tomats.

"Just you cut 'em up with vinegar and pepper and salt, and if she don't say they're first-rate eatin'--I'm mistaken; that's all."

"Thank you, you're very kind, Miss Nightcap," said Aunt Wealthy, looking so pleased and grateful that the girl could not take the misnomer as an intentional insult.

"Pshaw!" she said, "it's nothin'; we've plenty of 'em."

Having emptied her basket upon the table, she was starting for the door, but looked back.

"Say, do you want a girl?"

"Yes, indeed, if we can get one that's worth anything."

"Well, Celestia Ann Hunsinger told me she wouldn't mind coming here for a spell; 'cause she wants money to git new clo'es."

"What sort of a girl is she?"

"Pretty high-strung and spunky, but some punkuns for work."

"Thank you. I'll tell Mrs. Keith about it, and send you word directly after breakfast."

"All right. I guess she'll come if you want her."

She was scarcely gone when the door at the foot of the stairs opened, and Mildred's pale face appeared.

"Aunt Wealthy, it is too bad to see you at work here. Let me get breakfast. I do think I can. The children are dressing each other, mother has the baby and won't let me do anything up there."

"Well, you'll not find me a whit more tractable," returned Miss Stanhope. "Let you get breakfast, indeed! I'd be worse than a brute if I did.

"Go into the sitting-room and lie down on the lounge," she continued taking up one of the finest tomatoes and beginning to divest it of its skin, "and I'll bring you something presently that I really hope will taste good to you.

"That Miss Heavycap brought you a present. She's not over refined, but good-hearted, I think, in spite of her rude ways and rough talk."

"Yes, they have been very kind and neighborly; I wish they were the sort of people one could enjoy being intimate with," Mildred said, languidly. "Auntie, let me skin those tomatoes."

"Child, you look ready to drop."

"Do I?" smiling faintly, "well, I'll sit down to it. I really can't let you do everything. How fine and large these are; are they what Rhoda Jane brought?"

"Yes; for your breakfast. I hope you'll relish them; and the corn-pone I have in the oven, too."

"See here! haven't I learned how?" cried Rupert exultingly, stepping in at the open door and holding up a foaming bucket of milk "Viny never persuaded old Suky to give us so much."

"It's beautiful," said Aunt Wealthy, taking it from him with a congratulatory smile. "I'll strain it at once before the cream begins to rise."

"I'll carry the pans down cellar. And what more can I do, auntie?"

"You may draw the butter up out of the well, presently, when breakfast is quite ready."

"And let it down again when the meal's over. Hello, Milly! is that you? how white and weak you look!"

"Yes," she said, laying the last tomato in the dish, "I believe I'll have to lie down, as Aunt Wealthy bade me, till breakfast is ready."

She tottered into the sitting-room and laid herself down on the lounge feeling so miserably weak and forlorn, so homesick for the old home where they had all enjoyed good health, that the tears would come in spite of every effort to restrain them.

Breakfast was to be eaten here; the table was already set, neatly, too, with snowy cloth, shining silver and delicate china; but there was a look of discomfort about the room that vexed and tried her orderly soul; sand on the carpet, dust on the furniture, children's toys and a few articles of clothing scattered here and there--and she had no strength to rise and put it in order.

"And no one else is much better able," she sighed to herself, "for Aunt Wealthy, mother and Zillah have all had chills within a week. Oh dear, this dreadful country! why did we ever come to it!"

She heard her father's voice in the kitchen.

"Here, Aunt Wealthy, is some steak; rather better than usual, I think; can we have a bit broiled for breakfast?" and Miss Stanhope's cheery tones in reply,

"Yes, Stuart, I'll put it right on. I'm so glad you succeeded in getting some fresh meat. It's something of a rarity to us in these days, and I hope they'll all relish it, Marcia and Milly, especially; for they both need something to build up their strength."

"Where are they? not able to be up?"

His tone was anxious and concerned.

Mildred did not catch the words of Miss Stanhope's reply, but the door opened, her father came to her side, stooped over her and kissed her pale cheek tenderly.

"How are you, daughter? Don't be discouraged; we'll have you all right before long."

"O father, I'm so out of heart," she sobbed, raising herself to put her arms round his neck and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, that won't do! you must be brave and hopeful," he said, stroking her hair. "You're not so very ill, my child; ague is not a dangerous disease."

"It isn't that, but there's so much to be done and nobody to do it; we're all so poorly."

"Don't fret about the work; we'll find some one to do it."

"But they don't do it right. Viny never would spread up a bed straight or sweep or dust without leaving half the dirt behind her. And when she washed she faded the calicoes, shrank the flannels and made the white clothes a wretched color, though she tore them to pieces with hard rubbing and wringing."

"Well, we'll have just to try not to mind these trifles or be too particular," he said, soothingly. "Ah, here comes the breakfast," as Miss Stanhope, Rupert, Zillah and Ada trooped in, each bearing a dish, "let me help you to the table."

"I don't feel in the least hungry," she objected.

"Then eat to please father."

"And mother too," said Mrs. Keith coming in with Baby Annis in her arms. "Come, daughter, dear, auntie has prepared an excellent meal for us. With some help from our kind neighbors too, I hear."

"Yes," assented Miss Stanhope, "and I've directed them according to preparations and they do taste good. Come now; when I see you eating, I'll tell you a bit of news the girl brought besides."

Mildred laughed, felt her spirits begin to rise, tasted the tomatoes, pronounced them excellent and went on to make a good hearty meal.

The world looked brighter after that.

It had been decided to try Miss Hunsinger if she could be got. Mr. Keith went in search of her shortly after breakfast, and within an hour she was duly installed into office.

She was a tall, strong woman with a large proportion of bone and muscle; ditto of self-conceit and impudence united to uncommon energy and decision, and a faculty of turning off a great amount of work; doing it thoroughly well too.

At first she seemed a great improvement upon Viny, and Mildred's heart rejoiced in a complete sweeping, dusting and setting to rights of the whole house.

The children had been sent out to play in the shade of the sapling grove, while Mrs. Keith superintended the operations of the new help, and Miss Stanhope and Mildred, in the parlor, busied themselves, the one with the week's mending for the family, the other over her sometime neglected studies.

"She's a real new broom--is my Celestia Ann," said Mrs. Keith, coming cheerily in, "leaves no dirty corners or cobwebs, no wrinkles in sheets or spreads."

"O, mother, what a blessing?" cried Mildred, "if she'll only stay so."

"Ah, there's the rub! she cannot be a rose without a thorn. What was it Rhoda Jane said of her, Aunt Wealthy?"

The old lady reflected a moment ere she answered.

"Large potatoes, I think it was, Marcia; and I understood it to mean that she was a good worker. Something also that gave me the impression that she might be high-tempered and saucy. But as you say, we cannot expect thorns without roses."

"She's getting dinner now," remarked Mrs. Keith, "and seems to feel as much at home there as about her other work. I've told her what to get, and showed her where everything is; and now I shall leave her to her own devices; and see what will be the result."

Half an hour later the door of the parlor, where now the whole family were gathered, was thrown open with the announcement,

"Dinner's ready; all on the table here."

Having given the summons Miss Hunsinger rushed back to the table in advance of the family, seated herself, spread out her elbows upon it and with a nonchalant air said, "Come, folks, it's all ready; set right up."

There was a rapid exchange of glances among the party addressed, but not a word of remonstrance or disapproval was uttered. Physically unequal to the work that must be done, they were helpless in the hands of their "help."

The meal was begun in a profound silence which she was the first to break.

"Ther's some hot biscuits out thar," with a jerk of the head toward the kitchen door.

"You may bring some in," said Mrs. Keith.

"Just let one o' your gals do it this time, I will next. Turn about fair play you know."

Mildred's eyes flashed, and she opened her lips to speak; then closed them firmly as she thought of the consequences to her mother and aunt should this girl be sent away before she was able to take up even a part of the burden of the work.

"I'll go, mother," said Zillah, hastily leaving her place, "I don't mind it; but if I were paid for doing it, I would want to earn my money by doing it myself."

"Well, my dear, what do you think of your new help?" queried Mr. Keith, mischievously when they had withdrawn to the privacy of the parlor.

"The thorn is rather large and sharp," she answered laughing, "but we are not the only people in the world who must make a choice of evils."

"For my part," said Mildred severely, "I think it's a species of dishonesty to take pay for doing the work of a family and then ask them to do it themselves."

"Aren't you a trifle too hard on her, dear?" said Miss Stanhope. "It was very forward and impertinent, but I think hardly dishonest, because she is not expected to do quite all the work of the family."

"Here comes Emmaretta Lightcap," said Ada, who was standing in the open doorway. "She has an old faded calico dress, and sunbonnet and bare feet, just as usual; and a tin pan in her hands."

"Come in, Emmaretta."

The little girl stepped over the threshold and approaching Mrs. Keith said,

"Here's more tomats mother sent you and a bird for her," pointing to Mildred, "Gote he's been out shootin' and he sent it to her."

"He's very kind, take him my thanks for it," said Mildred, coloring, and vexed with herself for doing so. "Please tell your sister, too, that I thank her for the tomatoes and that I liked them very much."

"Are you a comin' to our school? cause Miss Damaris, she said you was," said the child, turning to Ada, while waiting for her pan, which Zillah had carried away to empty it.

"No! no, indeed!" cried Ada; "I don't like her, and wouldn't go there for anything!"

"Hush, hush, Ada! you don't know Miss Drybread," said Mrs. Keith, quite surprised at the outbreak.

"Yes, mother; don't you remember she was here one day?"

"Rhoda Jane, she's comin' over to see you this evenin'," said the little maid, taking her pan and departing.

Mildred's countenance fell; she appreciated Rhoda Jane's kindness; but could not enjoy her society.

"Why, Ada," said Mr. Keith, "I knew nothing of your dislike to Miss Drybread; and so when she met me in the street this morning and asked me to send her a scholar, I thought of Milly's sickness and that she must not have so much to do, and promised that you should go."

"O father!" exclaimed the child beginning to cry.

Then they all tried to comfort her, and finally she grew in a measure reconciled to her fate.

Chapter Thirteenth.

"'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own."
--POPE.

"YOU hain't returned more'n our fust call; and then you didn't stay but ten minutes," Rhoda Jane said in a half-offended tone, to Mildred, "And we're such near neighbors too; we'd ought to be real sociable."

Mildred apologized by stating the fact that her time was very fully occupied.

"Well you and Claudina Chetwood seems to be pretty thick. But the Chetwoods is richer'n we are, an' I s'pose that makes it easier to find time to visit with 'em."

"The riches don't make any difference," said Mildred, flushing; "and I've heard that the Chetwoods are not very rich."

"Well, they hold their heads high anyway.

"I'm agoin' to have a rag carpet party pretty soon, and give you an invite, and if you don't come I'll be so mad I won't never come near you again."

"Perhaps I may be sick," sighed Mildred, half hoping in her secret heart that so it might fall out.

"Oh, then of course I couldn't be mad; but I'll try to fix it when you're well."

"When is it to be? and what is it like?"

"Soon's mother and me gits the rags all cut; 'bout a week from now, I reckon. Why a passel o' girls gits together and sews the rags and winds 'em up into balls, and after awhile the boys come in and then we have lots o' fun and good things to eat. Now I must run home. Good-bye, mind you're to be sure to come."

This was Friday. On the ensuing Monday morning little Ada set out sorrowfully for Miss Drybread's school, in company with Emmaretta and Minerva Lightcap.

Mildred was alone in the parlor when the child came back at noon.

"Well, pussy, how did you like it?" she asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Not at all. O Mildred, she isn't a lady or a Christian; for she deceives; she acts lies; she made a naughty girl believe she was going to roast her to death. There's a stove and a big oven in it; and she said she was going to put her in there and build up a hot fire and cook her."

"Did the girl believe it?"

"Yes; she was dreadfully frightened; she screamed like everything and promised that indeed, and indeed she'd be good; and Miss Drybread let her go to her seat."

"That was acting a lie and telling one too; and anybody who would do so, is unfit to have the care of children," said Mildred. "I shall tell father and mother about it, and I'm very sure they won't send you any longer than this one quarter anyhow."

"Mildred, she doesn't look like a lady either; she doesn't wear anything white round her neck; just a pink calico cape and an apron of the same, and another kind of calico dress."

"No matter about that if she only acted and talked right. She's neat and clean, I suppose?"

"Yes; I didn't see any soil on her clothes."

"Well, learn your lessons well and behave nicely, so that she can't find any excuse for ill treating you."

Mildred looked upon the expected carpet rag party with nearly as great aversion as Ada felt for her new school, but was a good deal relieved on learning from Claudina Chetwood that she, too, had been notified of its approach and expected to attend.

"I didn't know that you visited the Lightcaps," said Mildred.

"Oh, yes; they are not cultivated people, or very refined; but they're clever folks and kind neighbors; especially in times of sickness; and would feel dreadfully hurt if one should decline their invitations. They're not the sort of people we exchange formal calls with; indeed they never make them; but, as mother says, while society here is in the crude state it is now, it will not do to insist upon making associates of those only who are congenial."

"Or quite belong to our station in life?"

"Yes; we can not divide up into many circles, and must be willing to mix to some extent, with all who can lay claim to respectability and moral worth."

"I'm afraid I'm very proud," said Mildred laughing and blushing. "I've never been used to associating with any one so rough and uncouth, and it goes a good deal against the grain."

"Perhaps it isn't exactly pride," suggested Claudina; "they offend your taste; they do mine, I know; but surely we can bear that rather than give them the pain of thinking that we despise them."

"Yes, indeed," assented Mildred heartily; and from that moment ceased to allow herself to hope that something would occur to give her a plausible excuse for staying away from Rhoda Jane's merry-making.

She repeated Claudina's remarks to her mother and aunt and found that they fully approved of the sentiments she had expressed.

"Time was when I should have been very unwilling to see you consort with that class on terms of equality," said Mrs. Keith, "but circumstances alter cases."

The invitation came for Friday afternoon and evening; Rhoda Jane hailing Rupert as he passed and sending it through him.

Mildred was nearly in her usual health and accepted without a demur; but puzzled to know what to wear, and at what hour to go, went to Claudina for instruction on these important points.

"We are invited to work, you know," said Miss Chetwood, laughing, "so will be expected early; we should not be later than one o'clock, I think, and as it is not very nice work--carpet rags being apt to be dusty--we should not wear anything that will not wash. I shall put on a calico dress and carry a big work apron with me."

"Then I shall do the same."

"I wish you would; for there will be some girls there who haven't the means to dress and would feel badly if you or I outshone them very much."

"I can't go before three, or half-past, though; on account of having to recite to Mr. Lord."

"Never mind; I daresay it's just as well; for you'll get quite enough of both the work and the company."

Following out the instructions received, Mildred attired herself for the occasion with the utmost simplicity; but could not lay aside her delicate prettiness or a certain air of culture and refinement that made her more the real lady in her calico, than almost any of her companions of the afternoon would have been in the richest silk or velvet.

Just as she was ready to go, Ada came in from school, crying heartily.

"What's the matter?" asked Mildred, meeting her on the threshold and turning back full of sympathy.

"I--I've lost my place in the spelling-class," sobbed the child, "and I didn't miss a word either. You know I got up head the first day, and I've kept there ever since--'way above all those big, big girls, some of 'em as big as you, Milly."

"But how did you get down if you didn't miss? was it for bad behavior?"

"No; but she upset the class and made us all draw lots for our places, and the one I drew made my place next to the foot."

"Mother, do you hear that?" asked Mildred, hotly; for anything like abuse or unjust treatment of her little brothers or sisters was sure to rouse her ire.

"Yes," Mrs. Keith said, "but Ada, you like the fun of getting up in your class, and you could never have that if you were always at the head."

This seemed a new idea to the child, and she smiled faintly through her tears.

But the wound was so deep it must bleed awhile, and the briny drops fell fast again.

She was an uncommonly good speller for a child of her age, and had taken great pride in keeping her place, working very hard to be able to do so; and this sudden, unexpected downfall, due to no failure on her part, almost overwhelmed her with a sense of loss, humiliation and injustice.

Mildred waited; she couldn't bear to go and leave Ada in such distress.

"Don't cry," she said, stroking her hair caressingly while the mother wiped away the fast flowing tears with her own soft white handkerchief, and kissed the flushed cheek, "don't cry, you'll soon get up again."

"And I shall write a note to Miss Drybread, telling her that I cannot approve of drawing lots to decide so trivial a matter;" said Mrs. Keith. "It seems to me very wrong; because it is an appeal to God. 'The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord!' It might be well enough to turn the class round occasionally, or in some other way to give the poor scholars a chance to rise; but this proceeding I so highly disapprove of that I shall not allow you to take part in it again."

"I wish you'd take me away out of her school, mother, oh do," pleaded the little girl.

"You shall not be kept there long," Mrs. Keith said. "But Mildred, child," she added gayly, "you must hurry away or I fear you'll not earn your supper."

A dozen maidens, mostly under twenty years of age, were collected in "the front room" at Mr. Lightcap's. A large clothes basket filled with many colored rags, torn or cut into strips of various lengths, occupied a conspicuous place upon the floor.

A number of girls were grouped about it and armed with needles and thread, scissors and thimbles, were busily engaged picking out the strips, sewing the ends together and winding the long strings thus formed, into balls; others had filled their laps and seated themselves here and there about the room.

They seemed a very merry company, laughing and chatting as they worked.

"Oh, how d'ye do?" said Rhoda Jane, catching sight of Mildred as she drew near the door, which was standing open; "thought you wasn't comin' at all. Walk right in. Let me take your sunbonnet. Here's a seat for you 'long side of Miss Chetwood. Guess you're better acquainted with her than any body else, without it's Viny Apple.

"Ladies, this is Miss Keith."

"I don't need no hintroduction," laughed Miss Apple. "'Ope you're well, Miss Milly."

The others looked up with a nod and a murmured word or two, as Rhoda Jane named each in turn; then they seemed to take up the thread of their discourse where it had been dropped, while Mildred tied on her apron, took the chair assigned her, threaded a needle, and helping herself, by invitation, from Claudina's lap, began her first ball, at the same time explaining that her lessons had detained her.

"You must be goin' to be dreadful learned," commented Rhoda Jane, filling Mildred's lap from the basket, "I wouldn't be you for something. I hate books and always did."

"Are we all here now?" asked some one.

"All but Damaris Drybread. She's oldish for the rest of us, but she's the schoolma'am, you know, and likes to be invited. And though she's late comin'--yonder she is now--she works dreadful fast when she does get at it."

Mildred overheard a whisper not complimentary to the coming woman,

"Pshaw! I wish she hadn't been asked. She spoils everything; for she's as solemn as a funeral and 'pears to think it's a sin to laugh."

"Yes," assented another voice, "that's so! and she never forgets that she's a schoolma'am; but takes it upon herself to tell you your duty without waiting to be invited to."

But now Miss Drybread was upon the threshold.

"Good evening," she said, in solemn tone and with a stiff little bow, addressing her salutation to the company in general; then giving her sunbonnet to Rhoda Jane, she seated herself in her usual bolt upright manner and fell to work.

Her presence acted as a damper upon the spirits of the younger portion of the party. A dead silence succeeded the merry chatter and laughter of a moment before.

Mildred had cared little for that while it went on, but it vexed her now that this woman, for whom, principally on Ada's account, she began to feel a decided dislike, should have it in her power thus to spoil the enjoyment of others; and she determined that it should not be.

Raising her voice that all might hear, she told an amusing anecdote that set everybody to laughing except the "schoolma'am," whose increasing solemnity of aspect seemed to reprove their levity.

"Oh, that was first-rate! do tell us another," cried Rhoda Jane, holding her sides. "I had no idea you could be so funny."

Mildred went on with anecdotes, jests, conundrums, Claudina and one or two others contributing their quota also, till with the ruder ones the mirth became somewhat boisterous.

As it died down again, Miss Drybread spoke.

"Life, permit me to observe to you all, is too serious and solemn to be spent in laughing and joking. Allow me to say, Miss Keith, that I am astonished that you, a church member, should indulge in such frivolity."

"Do you think a Christian should always wear a long face, ma'am?" asked Mildred, saucily, her tell-tale countenance showing all too plainly the contempt and aversion she felt for her self-constituted censor.

"Yes; I think that folks that profess that they've got religion ought to be grave and sober, and let the world see that they don't belong to it."

"As if there was any harm in innocent mirth!" exclaimed Mildred, "as if there was anybody in the world with so good a right to be glad and happy as one who knows that Jesus loves him! 'Rejoice in the Lord, ye righteous and shout for joy all ye that are upright in heart,' The Bible is full of commands to God's people to rejoice, to be glad, to sing for joy; and the best Christians I know seem to me the happiest people on earth."

"You're rather young to set up your judgment as to who's the best Christian and who's got religion and who hasn't," returned the spinster bridling.

"Well, none o' your long-faced, sour-looking Christians for me!" exclaimed Rhoda Jane, "I'd never want to get religion till the last minute, if I wasn't to be 'lowed to laugh and joke no more."

"I can not read the heart, nor can any other human creature," said Mildred, replying to Miss Drybread's last remark; "but Jesus says, 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' 'He that keepeth my commandments he it is that loveth me;' and when you live with people and see them constantly serving God with gladness, walking in his ways, rejoicing in his love, making the Bible always their rule of faith and practice, showing far more solicitude about heavenly than about earthly things, both for themselves and their children, I think you may be very sure they are real Christians."

"I think so too!" said Claudina emphatically.

"So do I," "and I," chimed in several other voices, "but do you know any such folks?"

"I have been describing my father and mother," Mildred said. "And my dear Aunt Wealthy too."

"That's a fact," spoke up Viny. "You 'ave to live with folks to find 'em out, and I've lived there and I never seen better Christians; they don't keep their religion for Sundays, but Mr. Keith 'e reads in the good book hevery night and mornin' and prays just like a minister--honly not so long--and they sing 'ymns. And I never 'eard a cross word pass between Mr. and Mrs. Keith--or Mrs. Stan'ope heither, and they never threaten the children they'll do something hawful like breakin' their bones or skinnin' of 'em alive, has some folks does; but just speaks to 'em quiet like, sayin' exactly what they mean: and they're always minded too."

Chapter Fourteenth.

"Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks and wreathed smiles."

"THERE had better be less talk, if these rags are all to be sewed to-day," remarked Miss Drybread, taking a fresh supply from the basket, then straightening herself till she was, if possible, more erect than before.

"I can talk and work too; my needle haint stopped because my tongue was runnin'," retorted Viny; "and it strikes me you've been doin' your share as well's the rest."

"My second ball's done," said Claudina, tossing it up.

"A good big one too, and wound real tight," said Rhoda Jane taking it, giving it a squeeze, then rolling it into a corner where quite a pile had collected.

"How quick you are, Claudina," said Mildred.

"Not so very; I've been at it quite a good while. Some folks can pretty nearly make two to my one." And she glanced toward Miss Drybread who was just beginning to wind her second.

"But 'tain't everybody that winds em as good and solid as you do, Claudina," said another girl significantly; "windin' loose can make a ball grow fast, I tell you!"

"'All is not gold that glitters,'" quoted Mildred.

"I'd begin to wind if I were you," said Claudina, "you have quite a pile there and it might get into a tangle."

"Thank you. I'm new to the business," said Mildred laughing, "and shall take the advice of an older hand."

"Supper's ready," announced Minerva, opening the kitchen door.

"Put down your rags and walk right out, ladies," said Rhoda Jane.

"It seems to me that I, for one, need some preparation," said Mildred, dropping hers and looking at her hands.

"Oh yes, we'll wash out here," said Rhoda Jane, leading the way.

A tin bucket full of water, a dipper and washbasin, all bright from a recent scouring, stood on a bench in the shed at the outer kitchen door; a piece of brown soap lay there also, and a clean crash towel hung on a nail in the wall close by.

The girls used these in turn, laughing and chatting merrily the while, then gathered about the table, which was bountifully spread with good plain country fare--chicken, ham, dried beef, pickles, tomatoes, cucumbers and radishes, cheese, eggs, pie, cake and preserves, in several varieties, hot cakes and cold bread, tea and coffee.

None of the family partook with their guests except Rhoda Jane; they would eat afterwards; and Mrs. Lightcap busied herself now in waiting upon the table; filling the tea and coffee cups in the shed where the cooking stove stood during the months of the year when its heat was objectionable in the house.

"I don't know as we've earned our supper, Mis' Lightcap," remarked one of the girls, stirring her tea; "we hain't begun to git all them rags sewed up yet."

"Well, then, I'll just set you to work again as soon as you're done eatin'; that'll do just as well; folks don't always pay in advance, you know."

"And if we don't get through 'fore the boys come we'll make them help," said Rhoda Jane.

"What boys?" queried Mildred; whereat several of the girls giggled.

"Why the fellows, of course," laughed Miss Lightcap; "the boys is what we mostly call 'em; though some of 'em's pretty old, I should judge, for that."

"Yes, there's Rocap Stubblefield, must be thirty at least," said one.

"And Nick Ransquattle's twenty-five if he's a day," remarked another.

"Well, the rest's young enough," said Mrs. Lightcap. "Pass that cake there, Rhoda Jane. There's my Gotobed just turned twenty-one, and York Mocker, and Wallace Ormsby, and Claudina's brother Will's all younger by some months or a year or so."

The meal concluded, the work went on quite briskly again, Mildred catching now and then a whispered word or two about the desirableness of getting through with it in time to have some fun; but the raw material for several more balls still remained in the basket when "the boys" began to come.

Gotobed was naturally among the first. He was quite "slicked up," as Rhoda Jane elegantly expressed it, though his toilet had been made under difficulties.

The only legitimate way of reaching the second story and his Sunday clothes, was by a stairway leading up from the front room, where the girls were.

The windows of his bedroom, however, looked out upon the leanto which formed the kitchen part of the building and whose roof was not many feet higher than that of the shed.

Watching his opportunity for doing so unseen, he climbed upon the shed, gained the roof of the leanto, and entered his room by the window.

There was nothing of the dandy about the honest fellow, yet somehow dressing was a slow business with him to-night; he stood before a little square of looking-glass hanging on the wall, tying and retying his cravat till it was too dark to see, then giving up in sheer despair went down over the roof as he had come, and sought his mother, who, with the help of Emmaretta and Minerva, was washing dishes in the kitchen.

"My land!" she exclaimed, as he came in, "what a time you've been up there. I never knowed you to take half as long to dress afore."

"My fingers are all thumbs," he said, a hot flush overspreading his sunburnt face, "I can't tie this decent nohow at all."

"Well, just wait till I can wipe my hands, and I'll do it. There, that'll do; the girls ain't agoin' to look partickler hard at that bit o' black ribbing."

"Maybe not, but I'm obleeged to you all the same for fixin' it right. Is it time to go in?"

"Of course, if you want to."

He passed out at the back door and through the yard into the street. He was bashful and did not like to face such a bevy of girls alone; at the thought of addressing one of their number in especial--Mildred Keith--he felt himself grow hot and uncomfortable. He had been admiring her from a distance all these weeks, but had never met her, and much as he desired an acquaintance, his courage seemed hardly equal to seeking it now.

How rough and boorish, how awkward and ill-bred he would appear to one so delicate and refined.

He waited about a little, till joined by a fellow mechanic, Nicholas Ransquattle, when they went in together.

This was a wiser step than Gotobed knew; for his well-made, stalwart figure showed to good advantage beside that of Nicholas, who was short and thick-set, had scarcely any neck, moved like a wooden man, and carried his head thrown back on his shoulders; he had a wooden face, too; large featured and stolid in expression.

But he was not troubled with bashfulness or any fear that his society would be other than most acceptable to any one upon whom he might see fit to bestow it.

"Good evening, ladies; I'm happy to meet you all," he said, making a sweeping bow to the company as he entered, hat in hand. "And I hope I see you well."

"Good evening," responded several voices. "Good-evening, Mr. Lightcap."

"Find yourselves seats and we'll give you employment, threading our needles for us."

Rhoda Jane was snuffing the candles. Hastily laying down her snuffers, she introduced the young men to Mildred, and dexterously managed to seat Ransquattle on the farther side of the room, leaving the field clear for her brother; for an empty chair stood invitingly at Miss Keith's side.

Gotobed took it, and, almost wondering at his own audacity, addressed his divinity with a remark upon the weather--that never-failing resource when all other topics elude us.

She answered with gracious sweetness,

"Yes it has been a lovely day, Mr. Lightcap."

What should he say next.

"I--I guess you never sewed carpet rags afore?"

"Is it my awkwardness at the business that makes you think so?" she returned, with a quizzical look and smile, as she lifted her fine eyes to his face.

"No, no, no sirree! ma'am, I mean," he stammered growing red and hot; "you do it beautiful!"

"Let me give you some work," she said, taking pity on his embarrassment; "will you thread this needle for me?"

"And then mine, please," put in Claudina, who was again seated near her friend; then to his further relief she launched out into a reminiscence of a candy pulling they had both attended the year before.

Others of "the boys" came flocking in, the work was speedily finished, there was some tossing back and forth of the balls, amid rather uproarious laughter; but some of them unwound and became entangled; and so that sport was given up; the girls washed their hands as before supper; Blindman's Buff, Puss in the Corner and other games were played with as much zest as if the players had been a parcel of children; then refreshments followed, served up in the kitchen; huckleberries with cream and sugar, watermelons, and muskmelons, doughnuts and cup cake.

At eleven o'clock the party broke up and the young men saw the girls safely home, Gotobed being so fortunate as to secure the privilege of waiting upon Mildred to her father's door.

She would, perhaps, have slightly preferred the attentions of Yorke Mocker, or Wallace Ormsby; both of whom she had met before and who were young men of much better education and much more polish and refinement than poor Gotobed.

It was Mrs. Keith who admitted her daughter; every one else in the house having retired.

"Had you a pleasant time?" she asked, with a motherly smile.

"I heard some of the others, as they went away, saying it had been perfectly splendid," Mildred answered with an amused little laugh, "but the fun was of rather too rough a sort for me."

"Games?"

"Yes, ma'am; and I took part until they began kissing; when I retired to the ranks of the spectators."

"That was right," Mrs. Keith said emphatically.

"And what do you think, mother?" laughed Mildred. "Viny Apple was one of the guests. The idea of being invited out to meet your ci-devant housemaid and cook! isn't it too funny?"

"Well, dear, let us be thankful that Celestine Ann was not invited also; leaving me to get tea to-night," Mrs. Keith said, joining in the laugh.

Chapter Fifteenth.

"The knight, perusing this epistle,
Believ'd h' had brought her to his whistle.
And read it like a jocund lover,
With great applause t' himself twice over."
--BUTLER'S HUDIBRAS.

RHODA JANE had set the ball in motion and for several weeks similar festivities were much in vogue among the young people of Pleasant Plains. There were other rag carpet bees, some quilting, berrying and nutting parties, boatings on the river, "buggy rides," and rides on horseback.

Then as the days grew short and the evenings long, a singing school was started. It met once a week at Damaris Drybread's schoolroom, was largely attended by the youth of both sexes, quite as much for the sport to be got out of it as for the improvement of their vocal powers.

Each carried thither a note book and a tallow candle, and at the end of the term paid his or her proportion of the salary of the teacher--one Timothy Buzzard, from a neighboring town.

Not the fittest name in the world for a singing teacher, people said; but then he couldn't help that, and soon proved himself competent for what he had undertaken; for imparting instruction at least;--as to keeping order among his pupils, some of whom were years older than himself--that he found was quite another thing. Of course there was often a good deal of misbehavior on the part of silly, giggling girls and tittering lads which tried his patience, occasionally even beyond endurance.

Mildred, Claudina and their friend Lucilla Grange were not of these; but invariably conducted themselves in a ladylike manner which won the admiration and gratitude of the sometimes sorely tried teacher, and gave him a powerful motive to self-control, in the natural desire to win their respect and esteem.

These three girls were the belles of the town; Timothy was an unmarried man, and when he seemed to pay court in a manner, to one or another of them, several of the young men were inclined to grow wrathy over it, and to feel that their rights were invaded.

Will Chetwood, Yorke Mocker, and Wallace Ormsby had become frequent visitors at Mr. Keith's; though, perhaps not more so in the case of the latter two, than at the homes of Mildred's two intimate girl friends; the six formed a coterie of their own and were generally seen together at the merry-makings; pairing off now in one way now in another.

Gotobed Lightcap would now and then pluck up courage to step in upon Mildred of an evening, and was invariably treated politely and kindly, though not in a way to give undue encouragement.

He had an instinctive understanding of that, attributed it in a great measure, to his own awkward, ungainly ways, and looked with envy upon those whose better education and more polished manners made them more acceptable companions.

Nicholas Ransquattle was not one of that number, yet esteemed himself such, and annoyed our heroine not a little by his unwelcome attentions.

They were declined whenever it could be done without positive rudeness, but vanity and self-conceit are often very blind.

Nicholas was quite a reader for a man of his station and limited opportunities; his family were proud of his attainments; he even more so; he was given to displaying them on all possible occasions; often wasting a great deal of breath in the charitable effort to enlighten the ignorance of his whilom associates.

He would call at Mr. Keith's early in the evening, and if occasion offered, talk to Mildred by the hour of his "abstruse studies" and the lighter literature with which he found it necessary to "unbend his mind from them," till she voted him an intolerable bore, and he became the laughing stock of her younger brothers and sisters, who found his clumsy, lumbering movements, self-conceit, and egotistical discourse so mirth-provoking that they learned to be on the lookout for him and to find excuses for remaining in the room while he staid; in which last endeavor they received every encouragement from Mildred.

Meanwhile so blinded by egotism was the man, that he supposed himself an object of great admiration to them, and had little, if any doubt, that the whole family were ready to receive him with open arms whenever he should make formal proposals for Mildred's hand.

He was a shoemaker by trade; had a little shop in the principal business street of the town, just opposite the store of Chetwood and Mocker,--Claudina's brother and cousin.

Mr. Keith had opened an office next door to them and Wallace Ormsby was diligently studying law with him.

Nicholas with a soul above his last, sometimes envied Wallace the prospective distinction of being a member of one of the learned professions, and while busied with his waxed ends and awl, considered the propriety of offering himself to Mr. Keith as a student and son-in-law both in one.

He finally decided that the proposal to Mildred should be made first, the other to follow immediately upon her joyful acceptance.

Winter had come in earnest; the ground had frozen hard and a heavy fall of snow upon this good foundation had made excellent sleighing; the young folk were jubilant over it, and more than one plan for its enjoyment had been set afloat.

"Mornin', Nick, see here, I want you to make me a pair o' new boots; put your very best work on to 'em," said Gotobed Lightcap, entering Ransquattle's shop after a moment's vigorous kicking and stamping of the snow from his feet upon the doorstep.

"All right, Gote. Sit down and off with your boot," returned Nicholas, putting down his last and taking up his measures.

"Let me have 'em as soon as you can," said Gotobed. "And be sure to make 'em a neat fit," he added, laughing, "else they'll, maybe be throwed back on your hands."

"They'll give satisfaction, you may depend," returned Ransquattle, straightening himself and throwing his head back on his shoulders in his accustomed fashion; "whatever I undertake is always done in the best style."

"Eh! I hadn't noticed that," said Gotobed, innocently. "You're goin' to the sleighin' to-morrow night, I s'pose?"

"Yes; and I calculate to take Mildred Keith."

"You do!" Lightcap ejaculated in tones of mingled anger and inquiry, his brows knitting wrathfully, a hot flush dyeing his swarthy cheek. "Have you asked her? got her consent?"

"Her? what her? may I ask?" queried Yorke Mocker, coming in as Gotobed's question was propounded, Wallace Ormsby close at his heels.

"No, I haven't asked her yet, but I shall in the course of the day; and now I warn you fellows that she's my choice and you may each pick out some other girl to take to the sleighing."

"Indeed! and may I ask how you came by the right to the first pick?"

"I've as much right to Mildred Keith as anybody else, Mr. Mocker; more, I should say; for I'm going to marry her."

There was a simultaneous explosion of astonishment and indignation at his presumption, from Mocker and Ormsby, while Lightcap, thinking no one would dare speak with such confident boasting who had not received great encouragement, turned pale, then flushed again as he picked up and drew on the boot he had just taken off.

"I admire the modesty of the man," remarked Ormsby with cutting sarcasm. "I presume you will find the young lady ready to drop into your arms at the first hint of your intentions."

"Of course, since it must be evident to her that she couldn't possibly do any better," sneered Yorke. "Pray, when did you learn that you were such a favorite?"

"I flatter myself that I do not lack discernment," returned Ransquattle, with unmoved self-complaisance, as he entered his measurements in his book, then used his coat-tail as a pen-wiper. "Anything I can do for you this morning, gentlemen?"

"No," growled Ormsby, "but there's something I can do for you; namely, save you the trouble of asking Miss Keith to go with you to-morrow night by informing you that she has already consented to allow me to be her escort."

"Is that so?" exclaimed Ransquattle, reddening with anger and disappointment. "Well, I must say I think it's very unfair; the way you fellows always get ahead of the rest of us."

"So do I," said Gotobed, leaving the shop and walking away in moody discontent; too much chagrined at learning that he had no chance, to enjoy the discomfiture of Nicholas.

"There has been no unfair dealing about it," retorted Ormsby, shortly, as he and Mocker followed Gotobed into the street; in their anger and excitement quite forgetting the errand that had brought them to Ransquattle's shop, viz., to borrow his horse and sleigh for the proposed expedition, in case he were not going to make use of them himself.

They crossed the street, joined Will Chetwood in the store, and roused his ire also by a recital of what had just occurred.