Chapter XI

WHEN Nelly went to the store next morning, she had fully made up her mind as to her duty, and was resolved, by God's help, to do it, let it cost what it might. She remembered granny's words, "The blessing of God shines on the straight path." She had found it true heretofore, and she determined to be guided thereby.

It seemed for a while as if she were to have no occasion for putting her resolution in practice. Miss Bartlett did not make her appearance for some days; and when she did, though Nelly watched her closely, she could detect nothing wrong; nor did she miss any thing afterwards.

Nelly drew a long sigh of relief and thankfulness. "Oh, I do hope she will never do so again! I do hope she has thought better of it! It would be so dreadful if I should have to tell Mrs. Kirkland!"

But Nelly was not to get rid of her trouble so easily. It was only a few days before Miss Bartlett came again. A case of valuable fans was on the counter, none of which had yet been sold. Miss Bartlett asked for some coloured braid; and as Nelly turned to take it down from the shelf, she distinctly saw in one of the mirror-panels which decorated the store that Miss Bartlett took up a pearl-carved fan and slipped it into her muff. She turned back to the counter. One of the fans was certainly gone. Miss Bartlett glanced carelessly at the braid, pronounced it perfectly hideous, and then, taking up the muff, she turned and went up-stairs. The next moment Nelly had restored the fans to their place and was speaking to Mrs. Kirkland at the desk. Her face was very pale, and her voice trembled; but she did not hesitate.

"Mrs. Kirkland, that lady who has just gone up-stairs has taken one of those pearl fans. I saw her put it in her muff when my back was turned."

"How could you see her when your back was turned?" asked Mrs. Kirkland, laying down her work and looking sharply at Nelly, but without any of that surprise which Nelly had expected.

"I saw her in the glass," answered Nelly, without hesitation.

"Have you ever seen her take things before?"

"I can't say that I ever saw her," said Nelly; "but I have been sure for some time that she did take little things. She hardly ever comes here without my missing something after she is gone. But this time I saw her; and she has the fan now,—one of those twenty-dollar pearl fans that Miss Powell said nobody would buy because they were so small and so expensive."

"Miss Lennox," called Mrs. Kirkland, "come down-stairs at once, please. I want you."

"Now, Nelly, come up-stairs with me; and be sure you know that you are right."

"I am quite sure," said Nelly, firmly. "I could not be mistaken."

Mrs. Kirkland found Miss Bartlett standing by the worsted-table, selecting shades of wool, as unconcerned as possible. But Nelly thought she looked a little startled as they entered.

Mrs. Kirkland looked about to see that no strangers were present, and then said to Miss Bartlett, quietly, but with marked emphasis, "Miss Bartlett, I believe you have taken something which does not belong to you." Miss Bartlett coloured and then turned pale, and made a movement to take up her muff,—an unlucky movement, as it chanced; for it flirted the large pink silk and silver tassels of the fan into plain sight, as though the fan had determined not to be accessory to its own abduction.

Mrs. Kirkland laid her hand upon it.

"Yes, this is it," said she, looking the young lady steadily in the face, as she took the fan from its place of concealment. "It is fortunate that you did not drop it in the street."

Miss Bartlett gave an affected laugh; but Nelly observed that her hands trembled so that she could not hold the worsted.

"I suppose I took it up with my pocket-handkerchief," said she. "Your girl, here, keeps things in such a litter and confusion that it is no wonder one should do such a thing. But I dare say she finds her own account in having things upside down. It makes it all the easier for her to help herself."

Nelly coloured high with indignation.

Mrs. Kirkland answered, quietly, "Nelly does not keep things in confusion, neither does she help herself. I wish every one with whom I deal were as strictly honest as she is."

"Dear me, Mrs. Kirkland!" exclaimed Miss Bartlett, with an appearance of virtuous indignation, "you act as if you thought I meant to steal the fan. Of course it was an accident."

"It was an awkward accident," said Mrs. Kirkland, dryly. "Unluckily, it is not the first of the kind which has happened. I have a great respect for your father, Miss Bartlett, and I should be sorry to be obliged to apply to him; but I must do so if any more of these accidents happen."

"There is no danger of any accident happening to rue in your shop, Mrs. Kirkland; for I shall never enter it again."

"So you said before," remarked Mrs. Kirkland.

"And I will take care that none of my acquaintances do so, either," continued the lady, disregarding the interruption. "You will rue the day that you ever set that beggar's brat to watch and spy upon me. And I will be revenged upon her, too. I dare say she steals from you all the time. Indeed, I know she does. I have seen her slip things into her pocket."

"There! I would not say any more, Miss Bartlett," interrupted Mrs. Kirkland. "You do not mend matters. As for your not coming here yourself, I certainly prefer that you should not do so: I am not fond of such scenes; nor can I afford to be robbed. As to Nelly, I know her."

Miss Bartlett took up her muff, and flounced out of the shop without any more words.

"You have done well, Nelly. I am pleased with you," said Mrs. Kirkland, who was a woman of few words. "You have acted with great presence of mind, and saved me from a serious loss. I shall not forget it. Don't say any thing about the matter, my dear. I do not want the unfortunate girl to fall into disgrace by my means. The trouble will come upon her and her family soon enough."

"But she could not have taken it by accident, Mrs. Kirkland," said Nelly. "I saw her take it out of the case and put it in her muff."

"No doubt she did. It is not the first scene of the sort I have had with her; but I did hope she meant to do better. I have been watching her for some time, however. Now go to work on Mrs. Sprague's afghan, and finish one of the black stripes as quickly as you can, that I may begin the embroidery. You need not be troubled about what Miss Bartlett said," she added, seeing that Nelly still looked uncomfortable. "I know her, and I know you."

With a most thankful spirit, Nelly began the black stripe; and most earnestly did she resolve to be more and more careful to do her duty.

"Granny, you were right," said she, when she went home that evening. "The blessing of God does shine on the straight path. I have found that out to-day. I can't tell you how, because Mrs. Kirkland told me not; but you don't know how I thank you for telling me that story the other day."

"If she told you not to tell, you had better not say any thing about it anyway, honey," said granny. "Sometimes a thing slips out unawares, and when it's out it's like the smoke out of the chimney, dear,—it can't be got in again."

"Well, I won't," said Nelly: "only, granny, I do want to say one thing; for it has been on my mind all day. I used to grumble because you did not give me an education; but you did give me an education in one way, and of the best sort. You taught me to be honest, and never to touch the least thing that did not belong to me. I should not be trusted as I am now, only for you. Mrs. Kirkland said to-day she would trust me with any thing in the shop. I feel as though I had been very ungrateful to you, granny; but I do love you."

Nelly's voice faltered, and she could find no farther expression, save by throwing her arms round the old woman's neck and hugging and kissing her in true Irish fashion.

"Sure you was but a child; and one don't expect gray heads on young shoulders," said granny, taking Nelly on her knee, as if she had been still a baby. "And it's true for you, Nelly. Your granny hasn't always done the right thing by you. But I think I have lived in a kind of dream all my life, dear," she continued. "I have always been thinking and thinking of going back to Ireland and being a great lady; but I'm thinking I shall go to a better country first, my dear."

"You don't feel sick, do you, granny?" asked Nelly, anxiously.

"No, dear. I have my health wonderful for an old woman of seventy-four. But yet I am old, you know; and, of course, I have not as long to live as I had forty years ago; and it becomes me to be thinking about the place where I am hoping to go."

"I think it is much pleasanter to think about going to heaven than about going back to Ireland, because that is a thing one can be sure about," said Nelly. "And one never can be sure about any thing in this world, because, somehow, the most likely things are the very ones that never happen."

"And have ye just found that out?" said the old woman, smiling at Nelly's very Irish mode of stating the matter. "That's a discovery was made some years before you were born or thought of, my Lady Eleanor. But it's true, for all that; and a good thing it is to think of. And glad and proud I am to see my Nelly trusted and honoured. So now put away your work a while, and read me another chapter before I go to bed."

Nelly met with only one more serious trouble this year; and that came through her old friend Kitty Brown. Kitty had been for a time rather shy of Nelly. She had formerly found it very pleasant to have some one to patronize; and she could not help feeling rather aggrieved that Nelly had so soon mounted over her head, and was earning so much larger wages than herself. She forgot, as girls are apt to do, that she was receiving board as well as wages. She fancied that Nelly was "stuck up" and looked down upon her (which certainly was not the case); and in her own heart she magnified what she had done for her friend, and denounced Nelly's ingratitude in bitter terms. But as Nelly continued to treat her in exactly the same way as before, she by degrees dropped her coldness and stiffness, and returned to her former friendly manner. Mrs. Powers frequently sent her down town upon errands, and she fell into the habit of running into Mrs. Kirkland's store to gossip with Nelly and stare at the customers, thus wasting her own time as well as that of her friend.

These visits made Nelly very uneasy. She was glad to see Kitty, and glad to be friends with her again; but she did not think it a very good plan so far as Kitty was concerned, and she was pretty sure Mrs. Kirkland did not like it. Then, too, Kitty was somewhat inclined to take liberties. She had never been taught to look at things with her eyes and not with the ends of her fingers; and as she leaned upon the counter or occupied one of the stools, she was apt to take up articles and turn them over,—sometimes pretty roughly,—to open boxes, and even drawers. All these things annoyed Nelly greatly, and all the more that Kitty did not seem to have the least notion that she was doing any thing out of the way.

"Don't, Kitty," said she, one day, as Kitty slipped behind the counter. "Mrs. Kirkland does not like to have any one go behind the counter."

"I only just want to look at these pretty boxes," said Kitty, still keeping her place. "I wonder how much they cost?"

"They are three dollars apiece for the small ones. But please don't touch them, Kitty," she added, in an agony, as Kitty took one down. "There!" she exclaimed, hastily, as Kitty nearly let the box fall. "Please do come away."

"Just as though I should do any harm!" said Kitty, scornfully. "I am a great deal more used to handling nice things than you are. My! What a lovely doll! Does it open its eyes?"

"You must not touch the doll, Kitty," said Nelly, decidedly; "and you must not go behind the counter. Mrs. Kirkland said so."

"She is not here: so what harm will it do?"

"That is the very reason," said Nelly. "Mrs. Kirkland has left me in charge, and I am responsible," she added, with a touch of that stately pride which was as natural to her as if she had been indeed the high-born heiress of Kilmane Park. "I would no more do any thing wrong when she was away than when she was looking on: I would be even more careful."

"Oh, you are a great person, no doubt," said Kitty, scornfully; but as she spoke she hastily restored the doll to its place and came out from behind the counter, looking rather alarmed.

"I don't want to be a great person, but I want to do what is right," said Nelly. "And please, Kitty," she added, with some hesitation, "I would rather you would not stay here while Mrs. Kirkland is away. She does not like the girls to have visitors in the store."

"Oh, very well, Miss Nelly Ryan," said Kitty, her voice trembling with anger. "I suppose that is the same as telling me that my room is better than my company. You are a mighty great lady, to be sure. You did not use to be quite so particular when you were carrying swill about the street."

"And you did not use to be quite so fond of my company," thought Nelly; but she did not say so. She turned to rearrange some matters on the shelf, and, in doing so, she took up the doll Kitty had been handling, and discovered the mischief that had been done: one of the arms had been almost broken off.

"Oh, Kitty, just see what you have done!" she exclaimed. "You have broken the doll. What shall I do?"

"I don't believe I broke it," said Kitty, colouring. "It was just so when I took it up."

Nelly shook her head. "I was showing it to a lady just before you came in, and it was all right then. Oh, how sorry I am! Now I shall have to pay for it, and it is worth four dollars,—almost two weeks' work."

"I don't see what you have got to do with it," said Kitty. "You did not break it."

"No, but you did," answered Nelly; "and Mrs. Kirkland will say I ought not to have let you touch it. Just see now, what trouble you have got me into."

"You needn't be so cross about it," said Kitty, angrily; "and you needn't lay all the blame on me, either. I dare say you broke it yourself, showing it to the lady. Besides, you needn't show it to her the first minute."

"I must," said Nelly: "she always tells me to tell her the minute I do any mischief."

"So does Mrs. Powers; but I don't always, by a great deal," said Kitty, laughing. "I broke a notch out of one of those blue china plates they make such a fuss over, and I put it away at the bottom of the pile, with the notch towards the wall; and Mrs. Powers has not found it out yet."

"But Kitty, that don't seem right to me. It isn't honest."

"Pshaw! You are wonderfully particular, all at once. How long since you felt so?"

"I always felt so," said Nelly. "Granny always told me—"

"Oh, you are a great saint," interrupted Kitty. "Of course you never do any thing wrong. Saints never do; they are always right; and the people who have done for them and taught them all they know, and helped them on when they hadn't anybody else to care for them, are wicked sinners. That's always the way with saints. For my part, I hate hypocrites."

"So do I," said Nelly, "and I don't mean to be one, either; and so I intend to tell Mrs. Kirkland about the doll the very first minute she comes in. She will blame me, I know, but I can't help it; and it will cost me almost two weeks' wages; but I can't help that either. I must say, Kitty, I think you did wrong about the plate. Suppose Mrs. Powers finds the notch, as she is sure to do some time, and asks you about it: what will you do?"

"I sha'n't borrow trouble about that," said Kitty. "Something will turn up."

"You will have to tell the truth, or else tell a lie," pursued Nelly. "If you tell the truth, she will be a great deal more angry with you for trying to hide it, than if she had known it at first; and if you are tempted to tell a lie—oh, Kitty, just think if you should!"

"Oh, pshaw! What a fuss all about nothing!" said Kitty. "I dare say you can tell fibs when it suits your purpose. But I must go. Good-by, Nelly; I hope Mrs. Kirkland won't turn you out of the store for breaking the doll." And away Kitty ran, leaving Nelly to reflect upon her words.

Suppose she should lose her place. It was possible; Miss Lennox had been dismissed only the week before, for disobeying rules; and Mrs. Kirkland had declared then that she could not keep any girl who would not do as she was told. She did not see how she could have kept Kitty away from the shelves, except by main force; but then she might have told her before that she did not like to have people coming to see her. Suppose she should let Mrs. Kirkland think that the lady who had looked at the doll had injured it. It Was just possible, after all. Things were often injured in that way,—no one knew how. Only yesterday, a morocco shopping-bag had been found with the lock broken, and no one could tell who did it. Suppose she should just say nothing about it, but leave it to be found as the bag had been.

The temptation was a strong one,—the strongest that had ever assailed Nelly in all her life. The thought of losing her place was dreadful to her. How could she now go back to the old life,—to watching Crummie all day and going about after slops, as she had done before? What would granny say? What would the neighbours say? What would become of her cherished plan of paying for their house and lot out of her own earnings?

It was a terrible temptation, a fearful struggle; but Nelly was not left to fight her battle alone: there stood by her One whom she saw not,—One whose eye is always upon those who in faith and patience are striving to follow and serve him. That Holy Spirit, for which she had prayed in faith that very morning, came to her help, and enabled her to pray again for grace to resist temptation; and He, without whom not a sparrow falls to the ground, sent her assistance in her hour of trial.

"I will do right," said Nelly; "I will keep the straight path, whatever happens."

Nelly leaned both her arms on the counter and buried her face in her hands for a moment. She was so absorbed that she did not hear the shop-door open, and she started as if she had been shot when somebody spoke to her.

"What, Nelly! asleep over your work! Is that the way you attend to your customers?"

"Oh, Mr. Grayson!" Nelly raised her head with a smile. There were tears in her eyes, and she was rather pale; but her face had a quiet and resolved expression.

"What! crying?" said the old gentleman. "Nay, that is worse than going to sleep."

"I am not going to cry," said Nelly, brushing away the drops; "only something troubled me; that's all."

"Troubled you! You have no business to have any troubles!" said Mr. Grayson, gruffly. "When you are as old as I am, you may talk of troubles. What can happen to trouble such a little shrimp as you? Come, tell me all about it, and I'll advise you for nothing. When folks come to my office for advice, I charge 'em a big price for it; but you and I are old friends, Nelly. What's the matter?"

Mr. Grayson's voice softened, as he said these words, and his manner was very gentle. Nelly felt attracted towards him and disposed to confide in him.

"I don't know as I need any advice," said she, smiling frankly, "because I have made up my mind."

"Well, but don't you know that is the very time? Half the people I see make up their minds first and ask advice afterwards," said Mr. Grayson.

"I suppose they want to be advised to take their own way," said Nelly.

Mr. Grayson laughed. "You are a shrewd one, Nelly. But come, now; tell me the trouble."

Nelly told the story, blaming Kitty as little as she possibly could.

"Oho!" said Mr. Grayson, rubbing his glasses. "And now what are you going to do about it, Nelly?"

"I am going to tell the truth," said Nelly, with emphasis, and falling back into her Irish, as she was apt to do when excited. "Sure my granny said the blessing of God shone on the straight path; and I believe it's true, sir."

"It is true; stick to that, Nelly," said Mr. Grayson, with emphasis. "But what were you crying about, my girl?"

"I don't know but I shall lose my place," said Nelly, the tears coming up again. "Miss Lennox was sent away, last week, for not keeping rules; and it is against orders for the girls to have their friends come to see them in the shop."

"Oho! so then I am breaking rules, too? I must buy something and become a customer, or I shall be getting you into another scrape. And so you cried because you thought you should lose your place? Was that all?"

"No, sir," said Nelly, hanging down her head and becoming at once very busy with her crochet-needle; "it was because—because I was tempted to tell a lie." Nelly fairly broke down, and cried heartily. Mr. Grayson coughed, blew his nose, and took a pinch of snuff.

"Don't do it, my child. Never do that, whatever happens. Look here, Nelly: I am an old man, and have seen a great many young men set out in life, with more or less bright prospects,—some of them very talented, some with only moderate abilities. I have seen some of them succeed and become respected, and others go to ruin and drag their friends down with them. But I have always seen this: the men who are perfectly honest and upright,—who are faithful to their work and to their word, honest in small things as well as great, not serving with eye-service, but having their employer's interest at heart as much in his absence as in his presence,—such young men invariably get on and do well, even with a very moderate amount of talent; while those of an opposite character, sooner or later, fall to the ground. Depend upon it, honesty is the best policy, even as regards this world. Mistress Kirkland," he added, turning to that lady as she entered the shop, "I have been giving Miss Nelly a lecture,—not exactly a lecture, either, but the benefit of my experience as respects honesty."

"Nelly needs it less than a good many other people we know, Mr. Grayson," replied Mrs. Kirkland. "I am happy to be able to say, with truth, that I have found her a very faithful, honest girl. You may guess that I have confidence in her, by my leaving her alone in the shop so long."

"Oh, if I had made up my mind to deceive her," thought Nelly, "how I should feel!"

"But now I must buy something, or I shall be breaking your rules," continued the old gentleman. "Nelly says you do not allow your girls to have visitors in the shop; so I have no choice but to become a customer."

"I have been obliged to make such a rule," said Mrs. Kirkland. "It may seem rather hard, and of course it does not apply to you; but I have had so much trouble that I found it the best way to forbid all visiting in business hours."

"Quite right. Idle people are a great trouble to busy ones, and they are always in mischief;—eh, Nelly? But come; show me some of those beautiful, useless little work-boxes. I must buy my daughter a Christmas present, I suppose; and the more senseless it is, the better she will like it, of course. That's the way with girls;—eh, Nelly?"

Mr. Grayson made a great deal of talk about the work-boxes, trying to beat Nelly down in the price, and ended by buying the most expensive of the whole,—as well as the very pearl fan Nelly had saved from being stolen. Then, bidding her come to his office when she went home, and he would send granny some more tobacco, he took his leave. He was no sooner gone than Nelly hastened to tell Mrs. Kirkland the whole story.

"You see now, Nelly, the use of the rule I made about visitors," said Mrs. Kirkland. "You say you could not help Kitty's going behind the counter, and I dare say that is true; but she has done the mischief, and might have done a great deal more, and you are responsible."

"Yes, I know," said Nelly: "it will have to come out of my wages, of course. I was afraid you would send me away, as you did Miss Lennox."

Mrs. Kirkland smiled. "You need not be afraid, Nelly. I should not send you away in a hurry for any mishap that you were honest enough to tell me of. Neither did I dismiss Miss Lennox for any one violation of rules, but because I could not depend upon her in any thing. She did nothing thoroughly; and if I trusted her to finish the least thing by herself, I was sure to be disappointed. She did well enough when I was looking at her; but the moment my back was turned she neglected my interests and thought only of pleasing herself. I bore with her longer than I should have done, because I was sorry for her mother and elder sisters, who are hardworking and very poor. Now she is back upon their hands again, in the middle of winter, with nothing to do. I am sorry for them, as I said; but I cannot help it."

"The doll is marked four dollars," said Nelly. "You will have to take it out of my wages."

"Oh, the doll can be mended easily enough; it only wants a little glue. I am glad it is no worse. But Nelly, if Kitty comes again, and I am here; just tell me. I want to speak to her."

"She did not mean any harm," said Nelly, desirous to screen her friend.

"No: I dare say not. Most of the mischief in the world is done by people who don't mean any harm."

"I shouldn't have said any thing about her," continued Nelly, "only I didn't see how I was to tell the truth without. I hate telling tales. It seems so mean."

"Nothing can be meaner than telling tales for the sake of making mischief," said Mrs. Kirkland. "It is almost or quite as bad as lying, and always leads to it. I hope you will never do that. But you were quite correct in telling me the whole truth; and Kitty has no right to complain of you for doing so. The meanness was in herself, in running away and leaving you to bear the blame. She will surely get into trouble if she acts in that way."

"I am afraid she will; and I should be real sorry; for Kitty is a very good girl in some things," said Nelly. "She has been very kind to me. Please, Mrs. Kirkland, don't find fault with her about the doll. I will tell her, if she comes again, that she mustn't stay."

"Very well, Nelly. I will say nothing about the matter, since you desire it. Only, remember, she must not come again unless she has an errand. It is wrong in two ways. It is wasting your time, which is mine; and it is wasting her time, which belongs to Mrs. Powers."

"There is one thing I can't understand," said Nelly, presently. "When Kitty gets angry at me, she always says, 'Oh, you are a great saint! I don't pretend to be a saint.' I thought saints meant good people. I am sure that is what the word means in the Bible."

"You are quite right, Nelly. You ought to be a saint; and there is no reason why you should not be one. A saint is a holy person, one who strives to serve God in all things, and to avoid every thing that is evil. All God's people are 'called to be saints.' But because some people have pretended to be saints who were not, therefore foolish persons like Kitty use the word as a term of reproach. Their own consciences condemn them for not trying to do the will of God, and they like to excuse themselves by thinking that all who strive to live strict and holy lives are hypocrites. I don't say this is the case with all,—even all who know themselves to be sinners. I have seen very wicked men who seemed glad that their wives and daughters were true Christians. But it is often the case. Never mind, Nelly. You are called to be a saint. God desires that you should be one: 'This is the will of God, even your sanctification.' And he is as ready to give his grace and his Spirit to you as to the greatest apostle or martyr that ever lived. Mind, I don't say you can ever be as useful as St. Peter or as, wise as St. Paul; but I don't know any reason why you should not be as holy as either of them."