CHAPTER XIV.

_THE AWARD._

Gracie was not at school that morning, for the child had actually cried herself sick on the previous day; but when Maggie gave her own composition to Miss Ashton to be placed in her uncle's hands, she gave Gracie's with it, as she knew her little friend would wish.

"And where was it found, dear?" asked Miss Ashton, who stood leaning against the window of the back room with her arm about Belle Powers' waist; while most of the girls, large and small, were gathered about her, enjoying the sweet spring air which came in through the open sash.

How pleasant the old garden looked this bright May morning, with the early leaves just budding forth, its peach-trees covered with delicate pink blossoms, its crocuses, violets, and tulips all in full bloom, the pigeons dressing their feathers on the stone wall, the guinea hens and two peacocks strutting about, and the sparrows and other small birds twittering and hopping among the branches!

Maggie told where and how she had found the paper.

"And were you not put out when you found it?" said Kate Maynard thoughtlessly.

Maggie looked up into the laughing face, and answered candidly, "Yes, Miss Kate, I was; but I think I'm over that now."

"Maggie was very good indeed about it, Miss Kate," said Bessie quickly. "Nobody could be better. Mamma was very much pleased with her."

"Maggie is just a great deal _too_ good," said Dora Johnson. "She ought to have left it in the drawer, and not said a word about it. _I_ would have, and good enough for that proudy."

"Dora," said Miss Ashton, "I do not think you would have done a thing like that, would you, my dear?"

"Well'm," said Dora, "if it had been for myself, maybe I wouldn't; but if I had known Gracie's composition was there, I wouldn't have told her to make a chance against Maggie."

"I wouldn't either," said Bella. "Let's throw it away again, and not tell Gracie;" and, quick and impulsive as she always was, she snatched the unlucky paper from Miss Ashton's hand, and tossed it with all her little strength out of the window.

What would Gracie have said to see her much-thought-of composition so scornfully handled? But it did not come to much further harm. Falling upon the roof of the piazza below, it only rolled down to the edge and lay there.

"No, no, little Belle," said Miss Ashton, speaking in the gentle, excusing tone which all, teachers and scholars, used to the motherless child of an over-indulgent, rather spoiling father. "No, no, little Belle: that is naughty. You would not be unfair to Gracie even for your favourite Maggie, would you?"

"Yes'm," said Belle decidedly; "I would. Maggie is the best."

"But it is who has the best composition, not who is the best child," said Miss Ashton. "And we are not the judges of that; all must have the same chance."

"I wish I were the judges," said Belle, regardless of grammar; "and I would give prizes for everything, and all to Maggie and Bessie; but only one for Miss Ashton," and she patted affectionately the hand about her waist. "Anyhow, Gracie can't get that now. When it rains, it will be all spoiled."

The girls laughed at the satisfied tone and nod of the head which accompanied these words; but Miss Ashton said, "Oh no, Belle! I shall send Marcia out to pick it up. We must all be just to one another; must we not, Bessie?" and she smiled into the earnest eyes which were looking up into hers, though she had no idea of the struggle which her truthful little scholar had gone through before she could make up her mind that, justice to Gracie was not something very like injustice to her own dear Maggie.

"Well," said Kate, laughing and rubbing Maggie's cheeks between her hands till they were even rosier than was natural to them, "if the composition prize _were_ to go by favour, we all know who would have it; do we not, Maggie?"

Yes, this was so; and Gracie, really a pleasant, affectionate child, had arrayed all her schoolmates against her by her self-conceit and vanity, till not one of them was ready to be pleased at the possibility of her gaining the prize.

She lay upon the sofa that afternoon, recovering from the headache into which she had cried herself. She still looked as if she felt very wretchedly both in mind and body, and lay idly playing with the tassels of the sofa-cushions, thinking, thinking of her lost treasure. Her father sat by the table, writing; her mother by the window, playing with her little brother.

"Why," said Mrs. Howard, looking out of the window to see what had called forth such a delighted exclamation from Charlie, "here are Maggie and Bessie with their nurse. Coming to see why you have not been to school, I suppose, Gracie."

"I don't want to see them, and I _won't_, now!" said Gracie pettishly, flouncing herself around. "I know they've come to let me see how glad they are about to-morrow."

"Gracie," said her father sternly, "I will have no more of this." Then, more gently, he added, "I do not know you, my daughter, in such a mood as this. You are not only destroying your own comfort and that of every one about you, but you are allowing your disappointed vanity to make you unjust and unkind to your little friends. I wish you to see Maggie and Bessie, and to receive them as kindly and politely as you would have done a few days since, before this wicked jealousy took possession of you."

Gracie was startled, for she was not accustomed to hear her father speak in this way; indeed, she did not often deserve it, and she was still crying when Maggie and Bessie came in.

"Poor Gracie!" said Bessie, as soon as she and her sister had spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Howard; "we were 'fraid you were sick when you didn't come to school, so we asked mamma to let us come and see you, for we have some very good news for you."

"What?" said Gracie, looking and speaking as if no news would ever be good again to her.

"Your composition is found," said Maggie.

"Where is it?" asked Gracie, starting to her feet.

"I s'pose Mr. Ashton has it now," answered Maggie. "I gave it to Miss Ashton when I found you were not at school, 'cause they all had to be handed to her uncle this afternoon; and I thought that was what you would want me to do."

Gracie did not need to meet her father's or mother's accusing eye to feel how causeless her unjust suspicions had been. Delight at the recovery of the lost paper was almost overcome by self-reproach and shame; and her head sank, while a choking feeling in her throat kept her from speaking her thoughts.

"Where was it found, dear child?" asked Mr. Howard; and Maggie once more repeated the story.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, so sorry!" said Gracie, throwing an arm about the neck of each one of her little schoolmates.

"So sorry for what? 'cause your composition is found?" asked the wondering Bessie.

"No; because I was so naughty and ugly and hateful, and said such mean things to you and about you," said Gracie, more repentant than she could find words to tell.

"Oh, never mind now," said Maggie, with sweet forgivingness. "You wouldn't have said them if you hadn't been so disappointed."

"And, Gracie," said Bessie, "we couldn't help feeling a little glad, though we were sorry for you. I heard papa tell mamma it was only human nature, and I s'pose it's to be 'spected you'd have a little human nature too."

"What is human nature, Bessie?" asked Mr. Howard.

Bessie stood thoughtful a moment, and then answered,--

"I'm not very sure, sir; but I think it means temper and selfishness and other naughty things that Jesus don't like."[1]

[1] A fact.

Mr. Howard smiled.

"Isn't that right, sir?" asked Bessie, rather anxiously.

"Just about right, dear child," answered the gentleman. "Human nature is pretty much made up of such things."

"But then Jesus will help us with it, if we go to to Him," said the child softly to herself, thinking of the battle she had fought with her own sinful nature, and the victory she had won through the aid of the Captain she had chosen.

The good news about her composition did much toward helping on Gracie's recovery; and before Maggie and Bessie went away, she was quite herself once more, and talking cheerily to them about to-morrow's expected events.

Mrs. Ashton's schoolrooms were a pretty sight the next morning, for scarcely a girl in either class but had brought some flowers as a gift to her teacher, and they were all set forth to deck the rooms. The girls were all in white, the elder ones with pink ribbons, the little children with blue to mark their classes; though there was not much need of this, for the difference in size would have done that readily enough. But it was a fancy of some of the girls, and as it put them all in a sort of uniform, and made the rooms look gay, it was just as well. But the bright young faces, full of pleasure and good-humour, were the greatest attraction there, and so thought Miss Ashton as one after another appeared.

The girls all came about two o'clock, though their friends were not expected till half an hour later.

"Did you ever see a lovelier day?" said Kate Maynard, coming in with her hands full of lilies of the valley, the sight of which called forth many an admiring "oh!" and "ah!" from the rest.

"Lovely!" said Julia Grafton; "it is a real genuine poet May-day. No make-believe spring about this."

"Oh," said Kate, "we ought to have chosen a May Queen, and crowned her. Why did we not think of it before? Well, it is not too late now: let us do it, and I will make a crown of these lilies."

The proposal met with general approval.

"Whom shall we choose?" said Fanny Leroy.

"One of the little ones, of course," said Kate, looking round upon the pleased group of the smaller children who gathered about her to watch the skilful fingers which were already at work upon the wreath of lilies.

Belle clapped her hands.

"Maggie, Maggie! let's have Maggie!" she said. "She's the best-deserving for being so good about Gracie's composition."

"Yes, Maggie," said Gracie, who, feeling sure that she would herself carry off what she considered the greatest honour of the day, was glad to have her little friend obtain a lower one. "Let her be May Queen."

The other children readily agreed, for Maggie's sweet-tempered and obliging ways had made her a favourite with all the school. She was not a little pleased; but, when Kate had completed the wreath, her bashfulness took alarm at the idea of wearing it before all the ladies and gentlemen, and so exciting notice she might otherwise escape. It required a good deal of coaxing from all, and some pretence of hurt feeling on Kate's part, before she could be induced to put it on; but, after a time, she forgot the honours that had been forced upon her in the other claims upon her attention.

Only once was she a little disturbed, after they were all in their places, and their friends had arrived. This was when Bessie, seeing her mother's eyes fixed with some surprise upon Maggie, thought herself called upon for an explanation. Placing a hand upon either side of her mouth, and speaking between them, she said, in a loud whisper which reached the ears of every one in both rooms, as well as the one for whom it was intended,--

"She's May Queen, mamma. The girls made her it. Don't she look lovely?"

A smile passed around the room, and down went her majesty's head in a style very unbefitting one which wore a crown.

But now all were ready, and the examination began. There is no need to say much about that, save that it was not long, and, as Mr. Ashton said, did credit to both teachers and scholars. Next, Mr. Ashton made a speech, which the children liked all the better because it, too, was short; and then came the grand business of the day, the distribution of the prizes.

In the first class, that for composition was bestowed upon Kate Maynard; that for perfect lessons, upon Julia Grafton.

"Now for our little friends here," said Mr. Ashton, turning to the younger children. "The greatest number of perfect lessons has been recited by Miss Gracie Howard. She stands four ahead of any other in her class; therefore she is justly entitled to the prize;" and he held towards Gracie a box containing a prettily bound set of those little library volumes so dear to the eyes and hearts of children.

She rose and came forward to receive it with a self-satisfied air, which said, as plainly as could be without words, "Only look at me! Am I not a wonderful child? Do you not envy my father and mother?"

But, in spite of their gratification at her success, her father and mother did not feel that they were to be envied just then. It was all spoiled by the little toss of the head, the look which swept the room seeking for admiration, and the conceited air which were the outward signs of Gracie's intense vanity; and her mother thought she would far rather see her as shy and shrinking as Maggie Bradford.

Gracie courtesied when Mr. Ashton placed the books in her hand; and then stood still as if waiting--for what? So confident did she feel that the gentleman would, the next moment, call her name again, and bestow upon her the yet more coveted composition prize--that beautiful little rosewood writing-desk--that it did not seem worth while to go back to her seat; and she actually remained waiting for it, till recalled to herself by Miss Ashton's "Gracie!" and the motion of her teacher's hand directing her to take her place.

"With regard to the compositions written by this younger class," continued Mr. Ashton, "I must say that they are all very well done, remarkably so for such little girls, and show great pains taken both by the teacher and the taught. Three of them are so nearly equal in merit, that I found some difficulty in judging between them."

_Three_! Maggie's must be one; Gracie's another; but whose could the third be? The children looked from one to another in surprise.

"The one called 'The Angel's Wanderings,'" said Mr. Ashton, "contains a great deal of poetry and originality;"--some of the little ones wondered what that long word meant, and the royal eyes peeped up from under the royal eyelashes, half-shyly, half-delighted--oh, was it really coming to her?--"but the other two of which I have spoken excel it in some respects. These are 'Christmas Holidays' and 'A Sunday Walk;' and this last, written by Miss Nellie Ransom, I have decided on the whole to be the most worthy of the prize. The neatness and care with which this paper has been copied and presented have gone some way in fixing a choice which was somewhat difficult. Miss Nellie Ransom, my dear."

Nellie Ransom! studious, painstaking, but not remarkably clever Nellie, whom not one in the school had ever thought of as the winner of the prize. Even Miss Ashton was rather surprised, though she knew better what Nellie could do than any of her schoolmates did; but no one was more astonished than the modest little girl herself. Mr. Ashton repeated her name more than once, while she sat still in mute amazement; and, even then, she had to be urged forward by the little girls on either side of her.

"Don't you hear, Nellie? Go, Nellie. The prize is for you; go take it, Nellie," was whispered around her before she could collect herself sufficiently to go up and receive the desk from Mr. Ashton's hands.

To describe Gracie's astonishment and indignation would be quite impossible. The pretty reward she had already won had no longer any charm in her eyes, since that she had regarded as her own was lost to her. And after all her boasting! Tears of mortification and disappointment welled up to her eyes, and would not be kept back; and an angry sob, and a murmur of "It's not fair; mine was the best!" broke from her.

"Now," said Mr. Ashton, "we are to bestow what I consider the first prize of the day. You all know what that is; this paper which will give to her who wins it by the choice of her schoolmates, the power of doing good to some crippled child. This choice, I trust, will be made fairly and honestly, without partiality. I want it given to the young lady whom you all feel most truly deserves it, though she may not perhaps be the one for whom you care most. All you little ones understand me, do you not? Now, will each one write upon a slip of paper the name of the girl to whom her vote is given, and we will see who has the greatest number."

Twenty heads were presently bent over as many slips of paper; but directly Bessie rose to her feet and stood looking at Miss Ashton as if she wished permission to speak.

"Well, Bessie, what is it?" asked the young lady, wondering what was coming now, as she saw the grave, earnest face of the little girl.

"Miss Ashton," said Bessie, "I really do think my Maggie is the best, but I'm 'fraid I do feel _partialitied_ to her. I couldn't help it, you know. Does it make any difference about my voting for her?"

Miss Ashton smiled, and looked at her uncle, who smiled also, and answered for her.

"None at all, little one. If you really think your Maggie deserves the prize, vote for her, by all means. I'll answer for it that your love for her makes her none the less worthy."

"Thank you, sir," answered Bessie demurely; and she sat down again, and, with great satisfaction, wrote Maggie's name in the largest possible letters.

The business of writing the names did not take long, for every girl had long since made up her mind for whom she should vote. Belle Powers was sent to collect the slips of paper, and brought them to Mr. Ashton, who, with his niece, looked over them.

"There does not seem to be much difference of opinion," he said, smiling again. "One for Maggie Bradford, four for Belle Powers, and fifteen for Bessie Bradford. My little girl, the hospital bed is yours, to give to whom you will. If you know of any child to whom it will be a help and comfort, you have also the satisfaction of knowing that you have gained it for him by your own good conduct, and the love and approbation of your schoolmates."

If Nellie had been surprised, Bessie was certainly no less so. She could scarcely believe her own ears. The hospital bed her own, to give to lame Jemmy! It seemed too good to be true. She had had a strong hope that dear little Belle would gain it; and Belle, as you know, had promised that Jemmy should have it, if it fell to her; but that she, Bessie, should be the chosen one, and that by fifteen votes!--she could not understand it.

With a flush upon her cheek, but still with a quiet, simple dignity very different from Gracie's air of supreme self-satisfaction, she rose and went forward to Mr. Ashton.

"My dear little girl," said the gentleman, looking down kindly upon her, "from what I have heard, I believe that the choice of your schoolmates has been justly made. You have looked only to the honour of God, and tried most earnestly to 'do the thing that is right;' and God has said 'Them that honour me, I will honour.' May He bless you, and keep you always in His own way."

Bessie took the folded paper he held out to her and answered, "Thank you very much, sir, and lame Jemmy will thank you very much too. He is a very good, patient boy."

"I daresay," replied Mr. Ashton; "but he has to thank you, not me."

Bessie gave him another grateful glance, and turned to go back to her seat; but as she did so she caught Kate Maynard's roguish eyes fixed upon her, their mischief softened by an expression of tender pride and congratulation, which told her that the young lady was nearly as well pleased as herself.

"O Katie!" she exclaimed, standing where she was, and forgetting for the moment that every one in the room was watching her; then turning towards her mother, and meeting her dear look of loving sympathy, all that was in her little heart proved too much for her, and, dropping the paper, she ran swiftly across the room, and buried her head in mamma's lap. How much there was in that "O Katie!" perhaps Kate herself only knew; and, although she joined in the smile which passed around, the laughing eyes were suddenly dimmed, and her hand went up to dash away one or two very suspicious-looking drops.

This last little performance on Bessie's part was not in the programme, and rather out of rule, to be sure; but, as the exercises of the day were now over, it did not so much matter.

Mamma's gentle soothing soon calmed her over-excitement, and there was Maggie, with her arms about her neck, whispering, "Bessie, I don't mind a bit about the composition prize now. I'd rather than anything that you would have this. And I'm so glad for lame Jemmy."

"Yes," said Bessie; "it was so good of the girls."

"No, it wasn't," said Belle, who was holding fast to her father's hand, and jumping up and down in an ecstasy of delight at Bessie's success; "no, it wasn't. They couldn't help it, not if they wrote the truf, and Mrs. Ashton said they must. And, Bessie, do you know, the reason you had so many votes was 'cause all the big young ladies wrote your name--every one in that class! Miss Ashton just told papa so. It's very nice to have so many give it to you, Bessie: is it not?"

Nice! Bessie thought so indeed! A happier child could not have been found than she was, as she sat with her head leaning upon her mother's breast, wearing a face of such perfect content. She had her reward indeed, not only a heart at peace with God and man, but also the longed-for gift for the crippled boy. Had she given way in that moment of temptation, it could not have come to her fairly; and where, oh, where would have been the first?

She had nothing more to wish for now.

Smiles, kisses, and congratulations were showered upon her, every one seemed to be so glad for her; and she thought it quite strange but very pleasant that so many people who did not know Jemmy should feel such an interest in his good fortune.

And there was Maggie--dear unselfish Maggie!--full of eager sympathy, and rejoicing in her joy.

"My disappointment is quite made up in this, Bessie," she said. "It makes so many more people happy than my having the desk would have done, and it will do Jemmy so much good. And then, you know, Nellie does not have half so many nice things as we do, so it is better for her to have it. She has not done being surprised yet: it was such a very unexpected blow to her that she can hardly believe it; but she is so happy about it, I couldn't help telling her I was glad for her."

"Little honey-bee, that takes all the sweet and leaves all the bitter!" said Colonel Rush, as he drew Maggie fondly towards him. "But what is our 'angel' going to say to all this? I am afraid she will feel that the 'subject' has not met with proper consideration."

"The 'subject' is too little to know now," said sunshiny Maggie; "and when she is bigger we won't tell her anything about it."

"Indeed we will," said the colonel, pushing back Maggie's curls from beneath the crown of lilies. "I shall tell her the whole story."

"I wouldn't," said Maggie; "she might have feelings about it."

"I hope she will, if they are of the proper kind," said the colonel, laughing; "and I should not be surprised if she had some opinions to express even now."

Maggie wondered what he meant; but just then some of the children spoke to her, and she forgot his words, to remember them another time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in amusing themselves in various ways; the May Queen being throned and carried in state about house and garden; but she proved restive under this, and, as Kate said, "set a very undignified example to her subjects," by escaping from their hands, and insisting on racing and jumping upon her own nimble little feet. None who saw how joyous and merry she was, how free from every selfish thought and envious feeling, would have imagined that there had been a time when she had been too anxious for this prize which had at last fallen to another; that she had said and felt that she could never bear the disappointment of losing it. A contrast she was to Gracie, certainly, who could enjoy none of the pleasures offered to her because she had not gained that on which she had set her heart, looking, not for God's approval, but for that of man, and her own honour and glory.