XII.
_LILY'S NEW RESOLVE._
There was a good deal of bustle and excitement, as you may imagine, onTuesday morning, when Miss Ashton's little scholars came, each with herrespective parcel.
Poor Lily of course was not there; it would be many a day yet beforeshe was able to come to school, but all the others were in theirplaces, and very anxious for the lessons to be over. Nor were Maggieand Bessie there during school-hours; but they were to come afterwards,and bring the little garments they had made.
"Let's see who finished her work first," said Gracie. "Dora, when didyou finish yours?"
"Saturday morning," answered Dora.
"Pooh!" said Gracie, "how long you were. Nellie, when was yours done?"
"Last night," answered Nellie; "and I was very glad I had not taken apetticoat, for I could not have finished it."
Gracie only looked her contempt, but she did that so plainly thatit might have placed her in the ranks of the anti-politers quite asreadily as rude and scornful words could have done. Nellie felt it,colored, and looked hurt.
"Belle, when did you finish yours?"
"I _perfer_ not to tell you," answered Belle, with magnificence.
"Why?" asked Gracie.
"If your guilty conscience don't tell you, it's no use for me to speakabout it," replied Belle, with well-deserved severity, supposed to bekept within the bounds of courteousness.
Gracie gave her head a little toss, as much as to say that Belle'sopinion was quite beneath her notice; but that her "guilty conscience"did accuse her was to be seen from the fact that she questioned no moreof her classmates, but said conceitedly,--
"I finished my petticoat the very Saturday after I took it;" and thenlooked about her for the applause which no one had the mind to offer.
It was strange that the frequency of the disappointments of this naturewhich she received did not teach Gracie that those who sought the mosteagerly for food for their own vanity were not the most apt to receiveit; but her insatiable self-conceit needed some severe teaching beforeit would lose its hold of her, and such slight blows as these werewithout much effect on the still increasing evil.
"I am sure I could easily have made two if I had chosen," continuedGracie. "It is nothing so very great to make a petticoat in a week."
"I don't know," said Nellie, who seldom bore malice, "I think it ispretty well for little girls to make one in two weeks. I am slow, Iknow, but as Lily said,--poor dear Lily,--I am a steady tortoise afterall, and have done my task in time."
"Is Lily's petticoat finished?" asked Mabel. "Does any one know?"
No, no one knew; but more than one thought it quite likely that Lilywould be behindhand. They knew her ways well. But, before they had timefor much more conversation on the subject, Miss Ashton came in, and thebusiness of the day began.
Twelve o'clock came, bringing with it Maggie and Bessie, who alsobrought each the little garment she had completed; and, school being atan end, the children gathered about Miss Ashton to have her verdict ontheir work.
Belle's bag was the first to be examined, and Miss Ashton pronouncedit very well done for a little girl who was but just learning to sew.There were some long and crooked stitches, it is true; but they weretight and close, and showed that she had taken great pains. So didBessie's; and Mabel's also was considered a success. Carrie Ransom'sdid not show quite as much care, but it would pass. So much for thebags made by the four lesser children; and now Miss Ashton turned tothe petticoats.
"I have here a note from Lily," she said, "which I shall read first.She sent it to me this morning, with her work, and a request that Iwould tell you what it contained."
"Oh," said Gracie, "I suppose she has not finished her petticoat. Shenever does things when she ought to, and she is always behindhand. Ifinished my petticoat on the first Saturday, Miss Ashton."
Now, would you not have thought that Gracie disliked Lily, and was gladto have the chance of showing up her faults? But it was not really so;for if you had asked Gracie, she would have told you that she was fondof Lily, and thought her on the whole a very good little girl. ButGracie's habit of comparing herself with others to their disadvantagegave her, not only the appearance of great conceit, but also ofconstant fault-finding with her companions.
Miss Ashton took no notice of her speech, but opened the envelope, andtook out the note, which Mrs. Norris had written at Lily's dictation.
"Miss Ashton," repeated Gracie, "I finished my petticoat Saturdaybefore last, every stitch of it."
"Very well," said Miss Ashton, coolly, and without farther attention,read aloud:--
"DEAR MISS ASHTON,--I think I ought to tell you that I did not do all my petticoat myself, and it was not all because of my hurting myself, but because I did not do it in good time, but put off until I had left a good task for the last day, when my eye was so hurt I could not sew. But dear Maggie had her's all done, and so she had time for a kindness, and she finished mine; but I thought I ought to do myself the mortification of telling you about it, for fear you and the other children should give me praise I did not deserve.
"And now I am very sorry I was so sure of myself to be so certain I would not fall into my bad habit again, which I find is not cured, as I said it was; but I have to try very hard yet. And I know the other children will think I thought myself very great, and I am ashamed of it, and of my procrastination too, dear Miss Ashton, which you told me would give me great trouble, and mamma too, and I see it. So please excuse me, and my eye and my head are better, thank you; but the doctor says I cannot use my eye for a good many days, and my head aches some yet.
"Please give my love to all the children, and tell them to come and see me.
"From your affectionate little scholar,
"LILY NORRIS."
If Lily's schoolmates did imagine that she thought herself "great," notone of them said so; and the reading of her letter was followed by manyexpressions of affection and sympathy, mingled with admiration for herstraightforward honesty, which would not let her receive credit whichwas not her due.
However, when Miss Ashton unfolded the petticoat sent by Lily, andexamined the sewing, it was found that, wanting though she might havebeen in punctuality and industry, Lily certainly deserved praise forthe manner in which her work was done. It was extremely neat and evenfor such a little girl; and both her own share, and that completed byMaggie Bradford received much approbation from Miss Ashton.
Maggie's petticoat merited a like meed of compliment, and NellieRansom's apron, which came next, was pronounced remarkably well done.
"Why, Nellie, my dear," said Miss Ashton, looking with surprise at theneatly laid gathers, even hems, and regular stitches, "is it possiblethat you did this all yourself?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered steady, painstaking Nellie, who, although shewas perhaps less quick than any of her schoolmates, was seldom ornever behind the rest, for the reason that she was so industrious andearnest,--"yes, ma'am. An apron was not very much for me to do, but Iwanted to be sure and have it nicely done."
"And, indeed, you have," said Miss Ashton, still examining the apronwith pleasure. "I must give you the credit, Nellie, of saying that Inever saw a piece of work better done by any child of your age. I donot know that I would have done it as well myself."
"Mamma takes great pains to teach me to sew nicely," said Nellie,dimpling and flushing with pleasure at her teacher's praise.
"And you must have taken great pains to learn, my dear," said MissAshton, laying her hand on that of the modest little girl.
Two or three others received their share of praise, some more, someless, according to their merits, though all were fairly done; and thenMiss Ashton came to Gracie's petticoat.
That it gave her far less satisfaction than the rest of the littlegarments had done, was plainly to be seen by her countenance, as sheexamined it.
"Why, Gracie, my dear," she said, "is it possible that you can sew nobetter than this? No, it is not;
for I have seen your work before, andknow that you can do better if you choose. Why, Gracie, the stitchesare not half as neat as those of the very little girls, and this bandwill not hold at all. It is impossible for me to give in such work asthis. See here;" and as she drew the stitches slightly apart, with nothalf the strain that would come upon them in the wearing, they partedand ripped, showing with what extreme carelessness the work had beendone.
I do not think Miss Ashton would have said as much to any other one ofher little scholars; but she thought that this mortification and blowto her self-conceit would do Gracie no harm.
"My dear," she continued, "you have not taken time enough to do yourwork properly. Another time, better less haste and more care, Gracie. Ishall have to take out almost the whole of this, and do it over myself,for I should be ashamed that our little orphans should have the exampleof such work. Your mother was away, I know, so that you could not go toher for help; but could you not ask some other person to show you howit should be done?"
"I should think I might know how to make a petticoat," said Gracie,rather saucily.
"It seems you do not," replied Miss Ashton, gravely. "As I must dothis over, you cannot expect that it should be given in as your work,Gracie."
Gracie tossed her head, and looked very angry, muttering, she "did notcare," then burst into tears, saying it was "too bad," and "real mean,"and she knew "it was just as good as the rest, only Miss Ashton neverwould think she did any thing fit to be seen," and altogether allowedher temper and wounded vanity so far to get the better of her that MissAshton bade her leave the room.
I am glad to say, however, that a few moments' solitude and reflectionin the cloak-room brought her to her right senses; and before she wenthome, she returned to her teacher, and begged her pardon for the temperand disrespect she had shown.
"But my work was finished long before any of the other children's,Miss Ashton," she said once more, after the lady had assured her shewas forgiven, giving her at the same time a gentle, and, alas! toooft-repeated warning against the hold her besetting sin was gaining onher temper and character.
Miss Ashton shook her head.
"But it is all thrown away, and worse than thrown away, Gracie," shesaid, "for it will need more time for me to take it to pieces and doit over again than it would have taken to make it myself at once.I can give you no credit, my child, for striving to outstrip yourschoolmates, merely that you might have the pleasure of saying that youhad done so. You are severe with Lily for her want of punctuality andpromptness; but too great haste, especially when it springs from a badmotive, is perhaps as bad. And, Gracie, Lily sees and acknowledges herfault, while you will not."
Gracie hung her head, but she was none the more convinced; and, inspite of her confession, went home, thinking herself hardly used, andMiss Ashton very unjust.
With the exception of Gracie, there was not one of the littlework-women whose sewing was not at least passable, and her garmenttolerably well made; and they were dismissed, well satisfied with thepraise they received, and the knowledge that their own self-denial andeffort had helped those who were in need.
Mrs. Norris had begged that Maggie and Bessie would come and see Lilythat afternoon, as she was now well enough to receive them, and tellher all that had taken place in the morning; and accordingly theypresented themselves in Lily's room, bringing with them their dolls.
"My dollies haven't had their dresses changed since Saturday, before Iwas hurt," said Lily, at the sight of the last-mentioned young ladies."Will you dress them for me while you tell me about this morning?"
Dolls and dolls' clothes were brought forth, Lily possessing amultitude of both; and the two little sisters fell to dressing theneglected children of an invalid mamma.
"It wasn't putting off this time," said Lily, apologetically, "for Ireally did seem to be so tired every time I tried to do any thing, evenplay, that mamma told me I had better lie still."
"Yes, we know," said Bessie, "and even if it was procrastination, dollsdon't really suffer, so I s'pose it's not much harm to put off doingthings for them. It don't hurt," she added thoughtfully, as she drew acomb about three inches long through the flowing locks of the waxenGeorgianna upon her lap,--"it don't hurt to put off play and pleasure,I believe, but only duties, and things that will do good to others."
"Yes," said Lily, rather ruefully, as if she wished that pleasures andduties might alike fall under the same head, "so I find most peoplethink. The trouble of it, and what makes it so hard is, that when aduty and a pleasure both come at once, it 'most always seems right totake the duty first; and I like pleasure so much better than duty thatI expect that's the reason I procrastinate so often."
"I believe that's the case with most people," said Maggie, putting onher wisdom cap to suit the solemnity of the conversation. "I find thehuman race generally like pleasure better than duty, 'specially if theduty is very disagreeable, and the pleasure is very nice."
"That's the way with me, anyhow," said Lily, with a sigh, as she layback upon her sofa pillows once more. "And sometimes, even when theduty is not very disagreeable, I feel like putting it off, just becauseI know I ought to do it, I believe. That petticoat was not so veryhorrid to do, and yet I let every thing put me away from doing it, tillat last you know the consequence."
"Miss Ashton praised your petticoat very much, anyhow," said Maggie."She said you had done the most of it, and it was all _well_ done."
"She praised Maggie's part too," said Bessie, unwilling that hersister should not receive her full share of credit, "and she said thebutton-hole was even better than that on Maggie's own petticoat."
"Practice makes perfect, you know," said Maggie. "Miss Ashton said notone piece of work was better made than that petticoat, except Nellie'sapron, and that was the best of all. Miss Ashton seemed quite surprisedat it, it was so very nice. And I don't mean to tell tales aboutGracie, but you would hear about it, I suppose, when you go back toschool, so we may as well tell you, 'cause you want to know about everything."
And between them, first one taking up the tale, and then the other,Lily had soon heard a full and particular account of all theoccurrences of the morning.
"And did not any one say hateful things about me when Miss Ashton readmy letter, and they knew I had not done what I was so sure I would do?"asked Lily.
"No indeed," said Bessie. "We wouldn't have listened to them if theyhad wanted to; but then no one would say an unkind thing about you whenyou were so honest and true, Lily. They were only sorry for you, anddidn't seem to think you were naughty one bit."
"But I was," said Lily, "and I'm never going to boast myself again, forI do feel too ashamed when I think how sure I was that I would do somuch. I don't believe I ever will cure myself of procrastination, doyou?"
"Why, yes," answered Bessie, "if you try enough."
"I'm sure I did try," said Lily, "but it was no use. If I did notforget so easily, I think I would not have so much trouble fromprocrastination; but, you see, sometimes I leave a thing just for onemoment, at least I mean to come back in a moment, and then I neverthink any thing more about it. That was the way the puppy found mypetticoat lying on the floor, and dragged it about till it had to bewashed before I could sew on it, and then it was too late."
"I used to be just as careless as that," said Maggie; "and though mammasays I have improved a great deal, and am pretty neat and careful now,yet I find it hard work still, and I have to make a rule for myself notto leave a thing one moment after I know I ought to do it, or else I amalmost sure to forget. I don't always keep that rule yet," she added,rather remorsefully, "but it helps me, and makes me better than I usedto be."
"Is that what cured you of carelessness? for I don't think you are muchcareless now," said Lily.
"Yes," said Maggie, slowly, "that--and--and"--here she fell into asudden fit of bashfulness at her own confession, and Bessie had to helpher out of it.
"Partly that, and partly because she asked Jesus to help her," saidthe little sister
. "And He did, 'cause He always does if we really andtruly ask Him. Did you ever ask Him to help you, Lily?"
"What, about putting off?" said Lily. "Why, no, I never thought muchabout it--and--besides--it seems such a queer thing to pray about, andto ask Jesus to help you in. It is not a sin, you know. It does makeme sin sometimes," she added, thoughtfully, as she recalled variousnaughtinesses into which her sad habit had led her. "Oh, if you knewsomething it had made me do, you would think I was too horrid!" She wasthinking of the way in which she had spoken to her mother but a fewdays since.
"Well, then," said Bessie, tenderly, "isn't that a reason for askingHim? I don't b'lieve Jesus thinks any thing is no matter if it makes usdo something that is wrong, and I don't b'lieve He thinks even a badhabit is a little thing, and I'm sure He'll help you if you only askHim."
"Sometimes when I was praying, I have thought maybe I had better askJesus not to let me put off," said Lily, "but I did not think _much_about it, and it hardly seemed worth while, and I generally thought Icould do it some other time."
Lily said these last words in rather a shamefaced manner, as if shewere mortified to recollect and confess that she had allowed herfailing to come even between her and the Great Helper.
"But you will ask Him now, won't you?" asked Bessie anxiously.
"Yes, I will," said Lily earnestly, and as if she really meant it; andI am glad to say that she kept her resolution, and "put off" no longerasking the help which could not, and would not fail her. And receivingwhat she sought, as all shall do who seek it in truth, and in the rightspirit, and continuing also to strive with the temptation of the momentwhich bids her postpone the duty before her, our Lily is gaining thevictory over the enemy which brought her into so much trouble, and hadmore than once led her so far astray.
Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author'soriginal spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.
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