Lily Norris' Enemy

  I.

  _THE "QUAKER LADY."_

  "If Lily Norris isn't just the most provoking child that ever lived!"said Maggie Bradford, indignantly.

  "Yes, I b'lieve she just is," assented Bessie.

  "Why," said Mrs. Rush, who was that day making a visit to Maggie's andBessie's mamma, "how is this? Lily the most provoking child that everlived! I thought Lily was one of your best friends, and that you wereso fond of her."

  "Yes, Aunt May, so we are," said Maggie. "We're very fond of Lilyindeed; she's one of our dearly beloveds, and we like to have her withus; but for all that, she's very trying to our patience."

  "Yes," sighed Bessie, "I think she's tryinger than any child we know;and yet she's hardly ever naughty,--really naughty, I mean."

  "How does she try you?" asked Mrs. Rush, though she believed she couldherself have answered as to the cause of complaint.

  "She puts off so," said Bessie. "Aunt May, I think she's the greatestput-offer we ever saw; and sometimes it makes things so hard to bear.We try not to be provoked 'cause we love her so; but sometimes we can'thelp being a little. I b'lieve it troubles people as much as if she wasreal naughty in some way."

  "Yes, procrastination is a very troublesome fault," said Mrs. Rush.

  "Not a _fault_, is it, Aunt May?" asked Maggie. "I thought it was onlya habit of Lily's."

  "And Lily is a pretty good child," said Belle Powers. "She ismischievous, and makes us laugh in school sometimes; but I b'lieve thatis about all the naughty things she does, and I think that is a prettygood account for one child."

  "Putting off is not being naughty, is it, Aunt May?" pleaded Bessie,unwilling, even amid her vexation, to have one of her favoriteplaymates thus blamed.

  "Well, darling," answered Mrs. Rush, "I fear that procrastination and awant of punctuality must be considered as rather serious faults. I seeyou are vexed and troubled now; why, I cannot tell, more than that Lilyhas caused it in some way; and I think that any habit which needlesslytries and irritates other people can be called nothing less than afault, and a bad one, too. What is the matter now?"

  "Why," said Bessie, "you see we are all going to the party at MissAshton's this afternoon, and Lily was to be here at four o'clock to gowith us; and when grandmamma was going home just now, she said shewould take us all around in her carriage; but Lily was not here, andwe did not like to go without her, and grandmamma could not wait. Butgrandmamma said the carriage should come back for us, and it has; andmamma says it is twenty minutes past four, and there Lily has not comeyet, and we don't know what to do, and we can't help being provoked."

  "It is just good enough for her to go, and leave her to come after byherself," said Belle, with a pout.

  "But you see that would not be so very polite," said Bessie; "and wehave to be _that_ even if we are pretty provoked."

  "I should think people might be punctual when they're going to a party,anyway," said Maggie, impatiently. "The idea of being so wasteful of aparty! I never heard of such foolishness! I should think that peoplewho couldn't be punctual at parties, and go just as soon as they areinvited, didn't deserve to go at all."

  "I should think her mother would send her in time," said Mabel Walton,Belle's cousin.

  "Well, I suppose she would," said Maggie; "but you know she has goneaway just now, and there's no one at home to make Lily think about thetime. Mrs. Norris doesn't have such a bad habit herself, and she don'tlike Lily to have it either. She is always talking to her about it."

  "What are you going to do, Maggie?" asked Bessie, as she saw her sistertake up a pencil and a bit of paper, and carry them to Mrs. Rush.

  "I am going to ask Aunt May to do a sum for me," said Maggie. "AuntMay, will you please do the sum of four times twenty minutes, and tellme how much it is?"

  "I do not want the paper, Maggie," said Mrs. Rush, smiling as she sawwhat Maggie would be at. "Four times twenty minutes are eighty minutes,or one hour and twenty minutes."

  "Why do you want to know that?" asked Belle.

  "I'm going to tell Lily a story when she comes, and let her take lessonby it for herself," said Maggie, rather severely; the severity beingintended, however, for the delinquent Lily, and not for Belle.

  "Children," said Mrs. Bradford, coming into the room just at thismoment, "I do not want you to keep the carriage waiting. Since Lily isnot here you must go without her. It is long after the time fixed."

  "Oh yes, mamma, we know that; I should think we might," said Maggie,with a sigh of despair.

  "There's the door-bell now," said Bessie, who was more patient underher afflictions than the other children. "Maybe that is Lily."

  So it proved; and a moment later Lily was shown into the room, followedby her nurse. A chorus of exclamations and reproaches greeted thelittle new-comer; but she took them all with her usual carelessgood-nature, though she did look half ashamed, too. Maggie, alone,mindful of the arrow she held in reserve, had nothing to say beyond aword or two of welcome.

  "Yes, just what I was saying to Miss Lily, that the young ladies wouldbe disappointed to be kept waiting, ma'am," said the nurse, speaking toMrs. Bradford; "and I came in to beg you'd not think it was my fault.I was at Miss Lily a half-hour before I could coax her to come and bedressed; and I knew she'd be late and vex them."

  "Oh, never mind. You can go now," said Lily, carelessly. "We'll be timeenough."

  "Come, let us go now," said Maggie, with an expression which showedthat she by no means agreed with Lily that it was "time enough;" andgood-by being said to mamma and Mrs. Rush, she led the way from theroom, followed by the rest of the young party, who were soon seatedsnugly in the carriage.

  "Lily," said Maggie, as soon as they had fairly started, "I have astory to tell you about punctuality."

  "Pooh! I don't want to hear about your old punctuality," said Lily."Everybody just bothers me 'most to death about being punctual. Tom hasbeen making a fuss about it just now."

  "But it is a story,--one of Maggie's stories," said Belle, who thoughtit quite incredible that any one should decline an opportunity ofhearing one of those interesting and valuable narratives.

  "Let's hear it then," said Lily.

  "It is not a story of my own making up," said Maggie, with thesolemnity which befitted a teacher of moral lessons; "but it is veryinteresting, and may do some good, if people choose to let it. But asthere are 'none so deaf as those who won't hear,' so I suppose thereare none so hard to teach as those who won't be taught."

  "But what is the story?" asked Belle.

  "The story is this," answered Maggie. "Once thirteen ladies went to ameeting, or ought to go to a meeting. Well, twelve of them came atthe right time to the house of a very wise old Quaker lady, where themeeting was; but the thirteenth lady did not come for a quarter of anhour after she ought to. So the other ladies were as tired as theycould be, 'cause they couldn't begin to do what they had to do withouther--but I would have if I'd been there--and some of them yawned--whichwasn't polite for them to do, but they could hardly help it--and somewent to sleep, and some had headaches, and one who was sitting in abreeze from the window, where she didn't like to sit, took cold, andhad a sore throat and a toothache, and she had to go and have her toothout; which was all the fault of the unpunctual lady, and I should thinkshe'd be very much ashamed of herself."

  "So should I," said Mabel, as Maggie paused to take breath.

  "What's the rest of the story?" asked Bessie, impatient of delay insuch a thrilling tale.

  "Well, when she came in," continued Maggie, giving point to her storyby the look she fixed upon Lily,--"when she came in, after doing such alot of mischief, she didn't seem to think it was any great harm afterall; but she just said, 'Ladies, I am sorry I kept you waiting, but itis only a quarter of an hour.' Then the wise old Quaker lady stood upand looked very severe at her, and she said, 'Friend, thee'--thee isthe way Quakers say you--'Friend, thee has wasted three hours of timethat did not belong to thee. Here are twelve of us, and a quarter of anhour for each mak
es three hours, and you--thee, I mean--had no rightto do it, and thee ought to be ashamed of yourself.' And the lady wasashamed of herself, 'cause it made her feel horridly to be talked tothat way before so many people; and she never did so again, which wasa great blessing to every one who knew her, because she made herself agreat inconvenience."

  And here Maggie closed her story, which she had one day lately found insome book or paper, and had brought it up on this occasion for Lily'sbenefit, adding to it sundry embellishments of her own, which, as shethought, made it more telling and serviceable.

  "But," said Lily, who took the moral to herself as it was intended sheshould do, "but we're not a meeting, and you're not a Quaker lady,Maggie. It's only a party."

  "_Only_ a party!" echoed Maggie, in an aggrieved tone, which told thatthis was adding insult to injury; "she says, 'Only a party'! Now,Lily, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I just want to tell yousomething."

  And Maggie held up the bit of paper on which she had taken the pains tonote down the sum Mrs. Rush had done for her, lest she should forgetthe number of minutes.

  "You kept us waiting more than twenty minutes, Lily. Miss Ashtoninvited us at four, and you did not come till twenty minutes after; andthere are four of us besides yourself, so there's one whole hour, andforty minutes,--which is 'most three-quarters of an hour,--one wholehour and forty minutes of party wasted, and only twenty minutes of itwas your own."

  "And I'm sure it's a great deal harder to have a party wasted than itis a meeting," said Belle.

  "I never thought about it," said Lily, by no means offended, butconsiderably astonished at the way in which her short-comings werebrought home to her. "I never thought of that, and I'm real sorry. I'llnever do it again."

  "Did the lady with the toothache ever tell the late lady she made herhave it?" asked Bessie.

  "Well, I'm not very sure," said Maggie, not willing to confess to totalignorance on this subject; "but I think she did."

  "Then she wasn't very kind," said Bessie. "It would have been kinderif she hadn't spoken about it. She had lesson enough. I think that oldQuaker lady was pretty cross, and I'm glad she's not my grandmamma."

  "Maggie," said Lily, as the carriage drew up at Miss Ashton's door,"couldn't you make me a proverb picture about putting off? I wouldlike one ever so much."

  For Lily took great delight in these same "proverb pictures," and wasvery glad to receive one even when it held up her own failings toreproof.

  "Is there any proverb about putting off?" asked Belle.

  "Yes, to be sure," said Lily. "There's 'Sufficient unto the day is theevil thereof.'"

  "Um--I don't know," said Maggie, doubtful if this adage were quiteapplicable to the case in question. "I don't think that will do; but ifwe can't find one, we'll make one, and draw you a proverb picture aboutit. I'll ask mamma if she knows of any that will do."

  "And make it for me very soon, will you?" said Lily, jumping from thecarriage with the assistance of Mrs. Ashton's maid, who had come totake them out. "I'll try to have it do me some good."

  This was encouraging, and Maggie's imagination was at once put to work;but not to much purpose for this evening, since as yet she knew of noproverb that would answer for the object she had in view.

  Our young party was greeted with a chorus of welcome, not only fromMrs. and Miss Ashton, but also from the other little girls who hadall arrived before them; for children are generally punctual to suchengagements, whatever their elders may be. Indeed, they usually preferto be before, rather than after the time.

  "How late you came!"

  "What kept you?"

  "It's more than half-past four!"

  "We've been here ever so long."

  "We've been waiting for you"--and such like exclamations met them onall sides.

  "It's my fault," said Lily. "I was not ready in time, and kept themwaiting."

  "O Lily!" said Carrie Ransom. "You always do keep people waiting."

  "Well, I can't help it," said Lily.

  "Yes, you can," said Gracie Howard; "at least, you could if you woulddo things in time; but you never will."

  "I'll grow out of it when I'm bigger," said Lily. "People 'most alwayscure up their faults before they're grown up."

  "Not if they don't take pains with them when they're little," saidBessie, solemnly. "Lily, if you keep on per-cas-ter-nating now, maybeyou won't be able to help it when you're grown up, and then people willbe provoked with you."

  "Were you much provoked with me to-day?" asked Lily.

  "Um-m, pretty," said Bessie; "but we're quite over it now."

  "Well, I don't care much then," was Lily's thought; but she said aloud,"I don't think it can do much harm when we're little. You see we're allhere now. But I will begin pretty soon to correct myself of it."

  "She had better begin to-day," thought Bessie; but no more was said onthe subject, and they were all soon engaged in a merry game of play.

  The party passed off pleasantly, so pleasantly that Maggie found moreand more cause for regret that she and her own particular friends hadbeen unjustly defrauded, as she considered it, of so large a portionof it; but she was too forgiving and good-natured to reproach Lily anyfarther, especially as Bessie privately confided to her that she didnot like "that severe old Quaker lady one bit, and am very glad thatshe is not one of my friends."

  Maggie thought that perhaps she had been rather severe herself, andtook pains to be especially agreeable to Lily for the rest of the day.

  But perhaps this ready forgetfulness of their vexation was not thebest thing for heedless, light-hearted Lily. At first she had felt alittle self-reproachful, but when she saw the other children forgettheir momentary displeasure, she thought her own troublesome want ofpunctuality did not matter much after all; they were all glad and happynow, and some of these days she would try to break herself of this badhabit.

  Ah! you see, that was Lily's way; it was always "one of these days,""some other time," "by and by;" and here lay the root of the troublewhich proved so vexatious to those about her, and very often to herself.

  "Mamma," said Maggie, as soon as they reached home, "do you know of anyproverb that would be a good correction of the habit of putting off,and never being ready in time?"

  Mrs. Bradford laughed.

  "Yes, I think I do, Maggie. What do you want to do with it?"

  "To make a proverb picture for Lily, mamma; she wants us to. She likesour proverb pictures very much, and never is provoked when we give herone. And I think I shall write her a piece of poetry about it too. Whatis the proverb, mamma?"

  "I will tell you in the morning, dear."

  "Why not to-night, mamma?"

  "Because I want you to go to sleep now, Maggie. If I tell you a proverbto-night, you will lie awake, turning it over in your mind, and makingverses and pictures for it; and I do not wish you to do that. Wait tillmorning, dear."

  Maggie submitted, like the docile and obedient little girl she was,though she was disappointed; for as mamma knew, she would have likedto spend part of her proper sleeping time in composing verses, andinventing pictures for Lily's benefit.

  "Shall you make the poetry a divine song, or a moral poem?" askedBessie, who took the greatest possible interest and pride in Maggie'spoetical attempts.

  "I think I'll mix the two," said Maggie, after a little deliberation."It might be better, because Lily don't care much to read things thatare _very_ pious; but she needs them a little. Yes, I'll do that."

  And now, according to mamma's orders, they ceased talking; and Maggie,obeying not only the letter, but the spirit of her mother's command,tried to put from her all thought of the lesson she was to teach Lily,and both she and Bessie were soon fast asleep.