Chapter I: Monday Morning

"PERCY, Percy!"

"Oh, dear me!" said a pale, thin little girl, all black hair and brown eyes, who was sitting on the door-step, studying with all her might. "I shall miss, I know I shall, and then I shall get marked again!"

"Percy! Perseverance!" called the voice again,—a somewhat high but very pleasant and kindly voice. "Come here, my dear, I want to see you!"

"There now! Aunt Zoe will want me to do some errand or other, I know, and what will become of my lesson!" said Percy, impatiently, closing her book, and rising. "I am sure I wouldn't mind, only for missing!"

She went slowly up-stairs to the room from whence the voice proceeded, and uttered a cry of delight, as she beheld Aunt Zoe holding up a large folio like a scrapbook, which she seemed to have just taken from the depths of a great chest she was rummaging.

"Mother's book of drawings! Oh, how glad I am! I felt sure I never should see them again!"

"Well, you were worrying for nothing, you see, child, for here they are all safe and sound. I thought all the time they would turn up; and this morning I happened to think I had never taken the things out of this chest. So I went to work at it, and here is the book all right. What are you doing?"

"Learning my geography, aunt."

"But I thought you learned that Saturday night."

"I was going to, but Louise wanted me to help her clear off the table and wash the dishes, and then—"

"And then she ran away and left you to do the whole, I suppose?" said Aunt Zoe, as Percy paused. "That is her way exactly. Now, Percy, there is one thing I am going to tell you, and you must mind me. You must not indulge Louise by doing her work for her. She will shirk quite enough without any help from you, and you are only doing her an injury."

"She is so slow; and then she thinks I am cross if I don't do what she asks me," replied Percy.

"Let her think so, then! She thinks every one is cross who will not let her be just as idle as she wants to be. But don't you see, Percy, that it is absolutely necessary for her own sake and mine, that Louise should learn to work? I can't afford to keep her, unless she is some help to me; and as she is now, she will never learn to get her own living in the world."

"She thinks it is very hard that she cannot go to school, as I do," remarked Percy. "She says she knows she could do well enough, if she could only have an education."

"Yes, I know. She thinks she would do anything better than her own work; but what do you think she would do in school?"

"Not much, unless she did very differently from what she does now," replied Percy. "I told her so yesterday; and that Miss Van Ness and Miss Reynolds would never have the patience with her that you do."

"And what did she say to that?"

"Oh, she said she should do differently, if she only had work that she liked."

"Then why doesn't she learn the lessons I give her?" asked Aunt Zoe. "All I can do, I can't make her learn the multiplication table nor the definitions in the grammar; and half the days she manages so that she has no time for her lessons at all."

"I told her of that, and she said it would be different in school. But there, it is ten o'clock, and I must get ready. Oh, dear. I know I shall miss in my geography!"

"Well, if you should, it won't break any bones," said Aunt Zoe, kindly. "Why cannot you study your lesson on the boat?"

"I can," answered Percy; "I never thought of that. Thank you for telling me. But, Aunt Zoe, don't you think I ought to wish to have my lessons perfectly?"

"Of course, child. Learning lessons is your work, and you ought to do it the best you can; but not be unhappy or fretful, if you do happen to make a mistake. It would be a good thing if you and Louise could be stirred together, and divided evenly," added Aunt Zoe, smiling again, and drawing forth a pretty, old-fashioned writing-desk from the great chest. "See, here is your mother's old writing-desk. Don't you want to take it to school to help make your room look pretty? It is in very good condition; and I have put your clothes into my hat-box, so you will have plenty of room."

"Thank you, Aunt Zoe, I should like it very much; but how shall I manage when I get to Round Springs? I can't carry the hat-box up myself, you know."

"Oh, Percy, you do go beyond everybody I ever saw, for putting mountains in your own way!" exclaimed Aunt Zoe, laughing. "Are there no men, or boys, or carts, or wheelbarrows, down at the wharf when the boat comes in? How do other girls get their trunks carried up to the school?"

"To be sure: John Fisk is always down with his wagon," said Percy, blushing a little. "I didn't think of that."

"Your box is all ready, and I told Harry to take it down for you," said Aunt Zoe; "and I have put in some apples and pears, and a bag of ginger-nuts, which you can eat or give away, as you please. You find it pretty pleasant now, don't you—in the school, I mean?"

"Oh, yes, aunt; I like it better than any school I ever was at. The teachers are so kind, and everybody is so good to me. I never saw such nice girls anywhere."

"And you don't find it so very bad to go up and down in the boat, either, do you?"

"No; I think it is very pleasant. I know what you mean, Aunt Zoe. I did think it would be horrid when I began. I felt sure I should be left or put off at the wrong place, or something."

"You would hardly do the last, unless you were very ingenious, seeing there is not a single landing between here and Round Springs," said Aunt Zoe. "But come, put away your desk and lock your box, for it is time Harry was under way. You need not set out yourself till you hear the boat-whistle, unless you like."

Percy packed up her desk and locked her box, and then went down to find Harry. As she passed through the kitchen, she saw Louise just finishing the washing of the breakfast-things—which were not many, as there were only three in the family, even when Percy was at home.

"Why, Louise!" exclaimed Percy, her eyes opening very wide,—which was not necessary, seeing that they were large enough by nature. "Haven't you finished your dishes yet? Well, if ever!"

"Oh, yes, it is all very well for you to say, 'Well, if ever!' when you are all dressed up and going off to school on the boat," said Louise, sulkily. "Wait till you have it to do, before you make so much fuss about it!"

"But I have done it ever so many times: I washed the dishes all that week you were at home, and I never had one thing round after nine o'clock. You talk about going to our school; I can tell you, you wouldn't do very well there, unless you had more ambition."

"That's what's in the way!" remarked Mrs. Swayne, the washerwoman. "Louise hasn't a speck of ambition; and, like all such folks, she thinks if she were only in a different place, it would be all right. I am sure I often wonder at Miss Devine's patience with her. I only wish my Maggy had the chance that she has."

"I thought Maggy went to the district school," said Percy.

"So she does, dear; but you see the school is very large, and Maggy, though she is good as gold, isn't that quick at her book; and the teacher doesn't have time nor patience to explain to her as Miss Devine does to Louise. Ah, Louise, it's sinning your mercies you are, child, and 't is a wonder if you don't lose them some day."

"What did you mean by Louise sinning her mercies, Mrs. Swayne?" asked Percy, as, having dispatched Harry with her box, she came back to the kitchen door, to watch for the first whistle of the little steamer which lay in sight at the landing below.

"Oh, 't is just a by-word they have in Scotland," replied Mrs. Swayne. "When a person is well off, and yet keeps grumbling and discontented-like, and all the time wishing themselves elsewhere, people say they are sinning their mercies. Louise has just as good a place as any girl could have, and as kind a friend as ever lived in your aunt; and yet you see she thinks, if she were only somewhere else, or if things were only different—but there's the whistle. Good-by, dear, and a pleasant voyage to you!"

"I wonder," said Percy to herself, as she established herself in a snug corner on the upper deck of the steamer, and sat watching the people who were coming on board, "I wonder if I ever sin my mercies."