Chapter V: Eating Humble-Pie

WHEN Flora Lester went home that night, she was about as unhappy as a child could be. If she had been perfectly innocent—if she could have defied anybody to show that she had ever laid her hand on what did not belong to her—the matter would not have been quite so bad. The injustice would even then have been hard to bear; but she felt that she could have borne it better. But there was that unlucky red plant. And then that Emma should have told of her! That was the hardest of all.

Florry was too unhappy to cry, too unhappy to care anything about reading or eating, or playing with her kittens. Her father did not come home, as she expected, but sent a note to say that he should not return till the next day; so she could not follow out her resolution to tell him all about the trouble. Mrs. Hausen was not at home, either; and even if she had been, Florry felt that, as matters stood between herself and Emma, she could not ask that lady's advice.

"Oh, if I only had somebody to tell me what to do!" she murmured, as she sat looking out of the window. And as she said so, a sudden thought flashed across her, and she got up and put on her hat directly.

"Mary," she called, "I am going to see Aunt Eunice a little while. I shall not be gone long."

"Very well," returned Mary. "You needn't hurry home. I'll come after you, if it gets dark."

Aunt Eunice Whitney lived by herself, in a pretty little house on one of the upper streets of Round Springs. She was quite an old lady; and her husband being dead, and all her children married, she had her house to herself, except when one of her granddaughters was staying with her, and going to school. Aunt Eunice had passed through a great many troubles and sorrows in her time. She was a woman to whom every one who knew her went for advice and counsel in difficulties, and for comfort in sorrow; for she was a very wise woman and a most earnest Christian; and she seemed to know just what to say to every one. She was a distant relation of Dr. Lester's, and Florry, like almost all the young people in Round Springs, called her "Aunt Eunice."

Florry found her old friend knitting, with her large Bible open on the table before her, though she did not seem to be reading. And Aunt Eunice gave the little girl her usual hearty welcome.

"But thee seems to be in trouble, dear," said Aunt Eunice, who was a "Friend," and always spoke after their manner. "What can I do for thee? I don't like to see thy little face so overcast."

"I want to tell you all about it, please, Aunt Eunice," answered Florry, glad that the old lady had "broken the ice" for her. "I am in a great deal of trouble, and I don't know what to do; and father and mother are away."

"Sit down here," said Aunt Eunice, drawing a low chair to her side. "Sit down here, and tell me the whole story."

Florry did so, feeling her heart already a little cheered by Aunt Eunice's ready sympathy. When she had finished, Aunt Eunice sat a few minutes in silence, and then began turning over the leaves of her Bible, as if looking for something.

"Can thee see to read by this light?" she asked, turning to Florry.

"Oh, yes, ma'am," answered Florry.

"Then suppose we read a few verses. Maybe we shall find a message for thee here."

Florry read where Aunt Eunice pointed with her needle. It was the thirty-seventh Psalm.

"'Fret not thyself because of evil doers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.'"

"'Trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.'"

At the fifth and sixth verses, Aunt Eunice paused, and applied the promise.

"That seems to be what thee wants, isn't it, dear? 'Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday. Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him . . . Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil.' It seems to me that is the counsel for thee to follow," said Aunt Eunice. "Just commit thy ways to him, and wait patiently upon him; and, no doubt, he will bring forth thy righteousness as the light! I think thee does love him already; don't thee, Florry?"

"Yes, indeed, I do," whispered Florry, as her friend put her arms around her and drew the little girl close to her side.

"Well, then, can't thee trust him to make all these things come out right? Can't thee commit thy ways unto him?"

"I would, if only I hadn't been so naughty about the plant," said Florry.

Aunt Eunice smiled rather sadly. "That's the way we are always hindering ourselves, dear—by going back and picking up our old sins, instead of leaving them behind us. Didn't thee ask him to forgive thee that sin?"

"Yes, Aunt Eunice."

"And don't thee know that he has forgiven it, and washed it all away? Don't thee know that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin?"

"Yes, Aunt Eunice. The Bible says so."

"Well, then, why should thee think that the sin which he has not only forgiven but washed away—made as if it had never been—is going to prevent him from helping thee now? Why, thee wouldn't let this matter hinder thee from helping Emma or even Tilly, would thee—especially if they said they were sorry, and asked thy forgiveness?"

"I wouldn't, anyway," answered Florry. "But, Aunt Eunice, suppose Mr. Mansfield should send me to the State Prison for stealing the watch?"

Aunt Eunice smiled. "Never fear, child. He can't send thee to prison; even if he should wish to; which he won't. There is no proof against thee. Put that thought out of thy mind for good. Very likely the watch will be found after all, and if it is not, nobody will think that thee took it. Now do as I tell thee. Commit thy ways unto the Lord, and trust in him, and wait for him to make thy innocence appear."

Florry went home feeling very much comforted. She read her Bible and said her prayers, and then lay down and went to sleep, feeling that she had a Friend in whom she could safely trust.

The next morning, Emma Hausen came to school again. She had had time to grow heartily ashamed of her anger against Florry, and of what she had said to Tilly Mansfield, especially since she had heard that Florry had asked leave to wait a term for her. Her first thought was to find Tilly, and give her a renewed charge not to repeat what she had said; and the next to see Florry, and give her the pretty presents she had brought her from the city. She found Tilly in the midst of a group of excited listeners in the school-room veranda, and heard her say:

"My father is coming home this morning, and then we shall see whether I am to be robbed or not."

"Robbed!" said Emma. "Who has robbed you?"

"Tilly's watch has been stolen," said Priscilla.

"What, out of the hole where she left it that day?" asked Emma. "I told you, Tilly, it wasn't safe to leave your watch there, under that stone. When did you miss it?"

The girls who stood round were astonished to see Tilly turn first pale and then scarlet, and then, after standing for a minute staring at Emma, rush down the steps and up the path which led to the stile.

"What do you mean, Emma? What stone?" asked Emily.

"Why, the stone where she put it on team-day," replied Emma, and then, guessing what had happened, she burst out laughing, and exclaimed:

"You don't mean to say that Tilly forgot where she put it, and then thought somebody had stolen it? That is too good!"

"It hasn't been any joke at all, I can tell you, Emma," said Emily, gravely. "Tilly missed her watch, and she has accused Flora Lester of taking it; and a great many of the girls believed her. Poor Florry has been treated shamefully. But let us go after Tilly, and see if she finds her watch."

The girls hurried up the path, and arrived in time to see Tilly draw forth her watch and chain safe and sound.

"Well, you are smart!" exclaimed Emma, contemptuously, while Tilly stood with her eyes on the ground, too much abashed to say a word.

"Did she really put it there, Emma?" asked several of the girls. "Did you see her?"

"Yes; of course I did. She was wearing it to school; and I told her the girls would laugh at her, and advised her to carry the watch home; but she wouldn't, and she put it in that hole. I was wondering, yesterday, whether she remembered to take care of it. But to go and say that Florry Lester took it! Tilly Mansfield, you deserve to be whipped! And what were the rest of you about, I should like to know?" said Emma, with increasing anger. "What were you all thinking about, to treat Florry so? The best girl that ever lived in the world, I do believe!"

"You needn't lay it all on us, Emma," answered Priscilla. "We never should have thought of such a thing, if you hadn't told Tilly yourself how Florry stole your mother's plant."

"I am sure I shouldn't," said Tilly, gathering courage; "but you did tell me yourself how Florry stole the plant."

It was now Emma's turn to blush. "I know I did; and it was a great shame," said she; "but didn't I tell you not to say anything about it?"

"As if that would do any good," remarked Emily. "If you don't want secrets told, you shouldn't tell them yourself."

"And while you were about it, why didn't you tell the rest,—how sorry Florry was, and how she gave mother her beautiful fuchsia to make amends?" cried Emma.

"Hush!" said Jenny Fleming. "Here comes Florry. She has been up to your house, Tilly."

Florry had indeed been up to see Tilly, and to beg her to try and remember when she had worn the watch last. Tilly had gone to school, however; and Florry, finding that she was likely to be late, had asked the housekeeper's permission to come the back way. She was walking slowly and looking on the ground, and, as she raised her eyes at the stile, she saw the girls all standing round, and Tilly with the watch and chain in her hand.

Emma sprang to meet her friend, threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her.

"Oh, Florry, can you ever forgive me!" she exclaimed. "It was all my fault; but please do forgive me and make up friends."

"What has happened?" asked Florry, bewildered. "Where did Tilly find her watch?"

"Just where she put it,—under the big stone there!" replied Emma.

"And I dare say she knew it was there all the time!" added Jenny Fleming. "She just wanted to make a fuss, and was angry at Florry for going above her."

"I didn't, either," said Tilly, bursting into tears. "I really and truly did forget all about it."

"Oh, yes; I dare say!"

"I presume she did, Jenny," said Florry; "for one does forget in that way sometimes. I know last week I hung my cloak in the closet under the stairs instead of in the hall, and I hunted the house over for it! I told mother I thought it had been stolen out of the wardrobe at school, for I could not remember wearing it home; but she said it would turn up; and so it did."

"Anyhow, she had no business to say you stole it!" said Elizabeth.

"You needn't say anything!" exclaimed Jenny. "You were just as bad as she was! I dare say your tortoise-shell knife will come in some such way!"

"Your knife is up in the drawing room table-drawer, Lizzy," said Florry. "I saw it there yesterday. And so the watch was safe all the time? How glad I am! How did you come to think of it, Tilly?"

"I didn't till Emma told me," sobbed Tilly; "it never came into my head once. I am real sorry I said you took it, Florry; I never will accuse anybody again as long as I live. But really and truly, I never remembered one word about wearing it that day. What a dunce I was!"

"We have all been foolish together, I think—Emma and all," remarked Priscilla. "I think we had better ask Florry to forgive the whole Kindergarten in a lump, all but Jenny and Emily!"

"Yes, do, please, Florry!" said several of the girls.

"Don't let us say any more about it," replied Florry. "I am so glad that the watch is found, I don't seem to care about anything else; but somehow I felt sure it would come. What a pretty one it is!"

"Hateful old thing!" said Tilly, still crying. "I never want to see it again. I mean to ask papa to sell it and let me give away the money."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that! The watch was not to blame," replied Florry; "and after all, girls, what Emma said was true."

"Yes; but then you tried to make amends," said Priscilla. "Tilly never told us that! If she had—"

"Oh, yes, throw it all on Tilly!" interrupted Jenny Fleming.

"No, I don't mean to throw it all on Tilly! I think we were all to blame," replied Priscilla; "but still, I do think it would have made a difference if she had told the whole story just as she heard it. She said Florry stole ever so many plants!"

"That is the worst of repeating stories; nobody ever gets them just right," observed Emily. "We shall hear next that Florry carried off the whole greenhouse."

"Well, I am sure I am sorry," said Tilly, "and I hope Florry will forgive me. I know I have done very wrong, and I wish I hadn't. I don't know how I can say any more than that."

"Of course you can't," answered Florry, kissing Tilly. "Come, don't let us say any more about it. There is the first bell ringing."

"I hope you will forgive me as well as Tilly, Flora," said Emma, as soon as she could get Flora alone. "I don't deserve it, I know; but if you knew how sorry I am about it—"

"I did forgive you before you asked me, Emma," answered Flora, gravely.

"I don't see how you could."

"It was hard," admitted Flora. "You see I cared more about what you said than I did about Tilly; but I knew I ought to, and that I wouldn't feel happy till I did. So I asked for help, and I had it," said Flora, reverently. "Somehow He seemed to take all the trouble and anger out of my heart, and I felt as quiet as could be. Aunt Eunice told me to commit my way to Him, and so I did; and He has brought it to pass."

Mr. Mansfield came back that morning, and Tilly met him at the door as she went home.

"Well, Tilly, what about your watch?" said he. "Have you found it?"

Tilly told the story of her watch.

"Just as I expected. I hope you have not told any one else what you said to me about Flora Lester's having taken it. The most absurd idea I ever heard of!"

Mr. Mansfield was very angry—more so than Tilly had ever seen him—when he learned how she had talked about Flora. He insisted on her going with him to Dr. Lester's, and making a formal apology both to Flora and her parents, and declared his intention to make her apologize before the whole school.

"Please don't, Mr. Mansfield," said Flora. "It will only make a fuss; and I am sure Tilly will be more careful another time; won't you, Tilly? Please don't say any more about it!"

"Well, I won't then, since you make it a personal favour, Florry," said Mr. Mansfield, at last. "But you must let me make you amends in some way. What can I do for you?"

"If it would not be asking too much," said Mrs. Lester, who saw that Mr. Mansfield really wished to atone for Tilly's unkindness, "I think I know what Florry would like very much, and that is one of your pretty Spitz puppies when they are old enough."

"She shall have her choice of the whole litter; sha'n't she Tilly?"

"Yes, indeed," answered Tilly; "and I will give her my gray parrot besides."

Florry would not consent to take the parrot, but she was very glad of the pretty little dog. Mr. Mansfield, however, would not be quite satisfied, and the next time he went to town, he bought Florry a beautiful little watch and chain, the watch being marked with her name.

The girls at school were very cold to Tilly for some time, and two or three—those who had been most ready to believe evil of Florry—insisted on thinking that she knew where her watch was all the while. But Tilly herself was very humble, and both Florry and Emma took her part vigorously; and at last the whole matter was forgotten, or only referred to incidentally as "that fuss about Tilly Mansfield's watch."

THE END.