PART II
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YE HAVE NOT CHOSEN ME, BUT I HAVE CHOSEN YOU, AND ORDAINED YOU, THAT YE SHOULD GO AND BRING FORTH FRUIT, AND THAT YOUR FRUIT SHOULD REMAIN.
HE THAT IS NOT WITH ME IS AGAINST ME.
HE THAT HATH AN EAR, LET HIM HEAR WHAT THE SPIRIT SAITH UNTO THE CHURCHES.
THERE SHALL BE A HANDFUL OF CORN IN THE EARTH UPON THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAINS; THE FRUIT THEREOF SHALL SHAKE LIKE LEBANON.
THE girls gathered in little groups and talked over the matter. Something new to be done. Miss Mason was in charge of their room, and in the reading-class that morning had told them of the custom when she went to school of "choosing sides and spelling down." These girls and boys knew nothing about it, but, most of them had agreed that it would be "fun," and at recess they had crowded about Miss Mason, and coaxed her to let them have a spelling-match. So this very afternoon it was to be tried; and the leaders had already been chosen, one of them being Ethol Harrison.
"Our side will beat, you'll see if it won't," she said, tossing back her pretty curls. "I know who all the best spellers are, and I'll choose them as fast as I can, and the others may keep their seats for all I care."
"But Johnnie Burns has every other turn," objected one of the girls; "what if he chooses some of the best ones before you get a chance?"
"Oh, he won't!" said Ethol. "Johnnie doesn't think fast enough to know who the best spellers are."
Just then Ethol caught sight of Sarah Lambert standing just outside the group, looking wistfully at them. Sarah was almost always just outside of things.
"Just see that girl stare at us!" Ethol said. "She always looks hungry out of her eyes. Did you ever notice? I wonder if she expects to get chosen? I shan't choose her, I'm sure."
"She's a pretty good speller, though," answered one of the girls, thoughtfully.
"I don't care. I shan't choose her; and I don't believe Johnnie will; he won't if I tell him not to. She doesn't belong to us girls. It always makes me cross to see her standing around. Her faded old dress, and straight, yellow hair, and no ruffle, and worn-out shoes, don't match in with the rest of us." And Ethol tossed her curls again, and smoothed the overskirt of her handsome all-wool blue dress, and looked down at her trim, buttoned boots with an air that said as plainly as words: "Could you imagine two people who looked more unlike that Sarah Lambert and I?"
Presently the group around the register moved away in different directions, but Sarah Lambert's eager eyes followed Ethol. She had caught stray words here and there from the girls, and she knew that a good deal of the talk had been going on about choosing; so she determined to do what took a good deal of courage.
"Did He choose you?" She asked the question eagerly, her great eyes looking hungrier than ever.
"Did who choose me?" Ethol's voice was almost cross. "What 'are' you talking about? You always begin in the middle of things."
"I want to know if He chose you, and if He has told you what to do, and if you know how to do it, and how He let you know that He wanted you?"
Then did Ethol look at her in utter amazement. "Sarah Lambert, I believe you are crazy!" she said slowly. "Nobody is to choose me; Johnnie Burns and I do the choosing of the others. Of course I know how to do it. And as to his wanting me, I don't know what you mean."
The eagerness went out of Sarah's eyes a little.
"I didn't mean about the spelling," she said gravely, "it's about the other choosing. Don't you know?" And she took from her pocket a card, carefully wrapped in paper, and pointed to the verse at the head of this story. "I meant Him; the one Miss Mason talked about yesterday. She said He chose folks now, and gave them things to do for Him; and I thought you was one, because you are so pretty, you know, and dress so nice; and I wondered what He had given you to do; and I was thinking maybe there was something even for me to do in my old dress, and with my shoes all out at the toes; but I don't suppose there is."
[Illustration: "I MEANT HIM; THE ONE MISS MASON TALKED ABOUT YESTERDAY."]
I wish I could give you a picture of Ethol as she stood looking at the ill-dressed girl at that moment. If I could show you a picture of both of them, you would see that though side by side there was a very great difference between them.
"You are the queerest girl that I ever heard of in my life!" Ethol said at last. It was all the answer that she seemed to know how to make.
When three o'clock came, and the two champions took their places on the floor of the schoolroom, ready to call their helpers, some of the girls were very much astonished to hear Ethol call "Sarah Lambert" for her first choice. It seems Ethol had made up her mind that at least the "queer girl" should be chosen for something. I don't suppose she had the slightest idea what a surprise and delight this was to Sarah; she had never been chosen for anything before.
[Illustration]
THE THREE LITTLE M'S.—