A BIT OF WILFULNESS.
There was a great excitement in the Keene's pleasant home at Wrentham,one morning, about three years ago. The servants were hard at work,making everything neat and orderly. The children buzzed about likeactive flies, for in the evening some one was coming whom none of themhad as yet seen,--a new mamma, whom their father had just married.
The three older children remembered their own mamma pretty well; to thebabies, she was only a name. Janet, the eldest, recollected her best ofall, and the idea of somebody coming to take her place did not pleaseher at all. This was not from a sense of jealousy for the mother whowas gone, but rather from a jealousy for herself; for since Mrs. Keene'sdeath, three years before, Janet had done pretty much as she liked, andthe idea of control and interference aroused within her, in advance, thespirit of resistance.
Janet's father was a busy lawyer, and had little time to give to thestudy of his children's characters. He liked to come home at night,after a hard day at his office, or in the courts, and find a nicelyarranged table and room, and a bright fire in the grate, beside which hecould read his newspaper without interruption, just stopping now andthen to say a word to the children, or have a frolic with the youngerones before they went to bed. Old Maria, who had been nurse to all thefive in turn, managed the housekeeping; and so long as there was nooutward disturbance, Mr. Keene asked no questions.
He had no idea that Janet, in fact, ruled the family. She was onlytwelve, but she had the spirit of a dictator, and none of the littleones dared to dispute her will or to complain. In fact, there was notoften cause for complaint. When Janet was not opposed, she was both kindand amusing. She had much sense and capacity for a child of her years,and her brothers and sisters were not old enough to detect the mistakeswhich she sometimes made.
And now a stepmother was coming to spoil all this, as Janet thought. Hermeditations, as she dusted the china and arranged the flowers, ransomething after this fashion:
"She's only twenty-one, Papa said, and that's only nine years older thanI am, and nine years isn't much. I'm not going to call her 'Mamma,'anyway. I shall call her 'Jerusha,' from the very first; for Maria saidthat Jessie was only a nickname, and I hate nicknames. I know she'llwant me to begin school next fall, but I don't mean to, for she don'tknow anything about the schools here, and I can judge better than shecan. There, that looks nice!" putting a tall spike of lilies in a palegreen vase. "Now I'll dress baby and little Jim, and we shall all beready when they come."
It was exactly six, that loveliest hour of a lovely June day, when thecarriage stopped at the gate. Mr. Keene helped his wife out, and lookedeagerly toward the piazza, on which the five children were grouped.
"Well, my dears," he cried, "how do you do? Why don't you come and kissyour new mamma?"
They all came obediently, pretty little Jim and baby Alice, hand inhand, then Harry and Mabel, and, last of all, Janet. The little onesshyly allowed themselves to be kissed, saying nothing, but Janet, trueto her resolution, returned her stepmother's salute in a matter-of-factway, kissed her father, and remarked:
"Do come in, Papa; Jerusha must be tired!"
Mr. Keene gave an amazed look at his wife. The corners of her mouthtwitched, and Janet thought wrathfully, "I do believe she is laughing atme!" But Mrs. Keene stifled the laugh, and, taking little Alice's hand,led the way into the house.
"Oh, how nice, how pretty!" were her first words. "Look at the flowers,James! Did you arrange them, Janet? I suspect you did."
"Yes," said Janet; "I did them all."
"Thank you, dear," said Mrs. Keene, and stooped to kiss her again. Itwas an affectionate kiss, and Janet had to confess to herself that thisnew--person was pleasant looking. She had pretty brown hair and eyes, awarm glow of color in a pair of round cheeks, and an expression at oncesweet and sensible and decided. It was a face full of attraction; theyounger children felt it, and began to sidle up and cuddle against thenew mamma. Janet felt the attraction, too, but she resisted it.
"Don't squeeze Jerusha in that way," she said to Mabel; "you arecreasing her jacket. Jim, come here, you are in the way."
"Janet," said Mr. Keene, in a voice of displeasure, "what do you mean bycalling your mother 'Jerusha'?"
"She isn't my real mother," explained Janet, defiantly. "I don't want tocall her 'Mamma;' she's too young."
Mrs. Keene laughed,--she couldn't help it.
"We will settle by and by what you shall call me," she said. "But,Janet, it can't be Jerusha, for that is not my name. I was baptizedJessie."
"I shall call you Mrs. Keene, then," said Janet, mortified, butpersistent. Her stepmother looked pained, but she said no more.
None of the other children made any difficulty about saying "Mamma" tothis sweet new friend. Jessie Keene was the very woman to "mother" afamily of children. Bright and tender and firm all at once, she wasplaymate to them as well as authority, and in a very little while theyall learned to love her dearly,--all but Janet; and even she, at times,found it hard to resist this influence, which was at the same time sostrong and so kind.
Still, she did resist, and the result was constant discomfort to bothparties. To the younger children the new mamma brought added happiness,because they yielded to her wise and reasonable authority. To Janet shebrought only friction and resentment, because she would not yield.
So two months passed. Late in August, Mr. and Mrs Keene started on ashort journey which was to keep them away from home for two days. Justas the carriage was driving away, Mrs. Keene suddenly said,--
"Oh, Janet! I forgot to say that I would rather you didn't go see EllenColton while we are away, or let any of the other children. Please tellnurse about it."
"Why mustn't I?" demanded Janet.
"Because--" began her mother, but Mr. Keene broke in.
"Never mind 'becauses,' Jessie; we must be off. It's enough for you,Janet, that your mother orders it. And see that you do as she says."
"It's a shame!" muttered Janet, as she slowly went back to the house. "Ialways have gone to see Ellen whenever I liked. No one ever stopped mebefore. I don't think it's a bit fair; and I wish Papa wouldn't speak tome like that before--her."
Gradually she worked herself into a strong fit of ill-temper. All daylong she felt a growing sense of injury, and she made up her mind not tobear it. Next morning, in a towering state of self-will, she marchedstraight down to the Coltons, resolved at least to find out the meaningof this vexatious prohibition.
No one was on the piazza, and Janet ran up-stairs to Ellen's room,expecting to find her studying her lessons.
No; Ellen was in the bed, fast asleep. Janet took a story-book, and satdown beside her. "She'll be surprised when she wakes up," she thought.
The book proved interesting, and Janet read on for nearly half an hourbefore Mrs. Colton came in with a cup and spoon in her hand. She gave ascream when she saw Janet.
"Mercy!" she cried, "what are you doing here? Didn't your ma tell you?Ellen's got scarlet-fever."
"No, she didn't tell me _that_. She only said I mustn't come here."
"And why did you come?"
Somehow Janet found it hard to explain, even to herself, why she hadbeen so determined not to obey.
Very sorrowfully she walked homeward. She had sense enough to know howdreadful might be the result of her disobedience, and she felt humbleand wretched. "Oh, if only I hadn't!" was the language of her heart.
The little ones had gone out to play. Janet hurried to her own room, andlocked the door.
"I won't see any of them till Papa comes," she thought. "Then perhapsthey won't catch it from me."
She watched from the window till Maria came out to hang something on theclothesline, and called to her.
"I'm not coming down to dinner," she said. "Will you please bring mesome, and leave it by my door? No, I'm not ill, but there are reasons.I'd rather not tell anybody about them but Mamma."
"Sakes alive!" said old Maria to herself, "she called missus 'Mamma.'The skies must b
e going to fall."
Mrs. Keene's surprise may be imagined at finding Janet thus, in a stateof voluntary quarantine.
"I am so sorry," she said, when she had listened to her confession."Most sorry of all for you, my child, because you may have to bear theworst penalty. But it was brave and thoughtful in you to shut yourselfup to spare the little ones, dear Janet."
"Oh, Mamma!" cried Janet, bursting into tears. "How kind you are not toscold me! I have been so horrid to you always." All the pride andhardness were melted out of her now, and for the first time she clung toher stepmother with a sense of protection and comfort.
Janet said afterwards, that the fortnight which she spent in her room,waiting to know if she had caught the fever, was one of the nicest timesshe ever had. The children and the servants, and even Papa, kept awayfrom her, but Mrs. Keene came as often and stayed as long as she could;and, thrown thus upon her sole companionship, Janet found out the worthof this dear, kind stepmother. She did _not_ have scarlet-fever, and atthe end of three weeks was allowed to go back to her old ways, but witha different spirit.
"I can't think why I didn't love you sooner," she told Mamma once.
"I think I know," replied Mrs. Keene, smiling. "That stiff little willwas in the way. You willed not to like me, and it was easy to obey yourwill; but now you will to love me, and loving is as easy as unlovingwas."