CHAPTER III.

_SCHOOL._

"But, grandmamma," said Maggie, when her mother had been bolstered up, and was enjoying her nice soup, "I do not think waiting on mamma is a bit of a duty; I think it is a great, great pleasure."

"So do I, Maggie; but a pleasure may be a duty, may it not?"

Maggie looked doubtful.

"I don't quite see how, grandmamma. I thought a duty was something one ought to do, but did not quite want to do,--like forgiving people when they are unkind to us, or putting away my playthings when I would rather leave them; or--or--trying to have a cheerful mind about going to school, 'cause it's a help to mamma;" and Maggie smiled a wistful, half-tearful little smile, which went straight to the hearts of her mother and grandmother.

"But even a disagreeable duty may bring its own pleasure and satisfaction with it, darling, if we only go about it in the right way," said Mrs. Stanton; "and there is many a pleasant thing that is also a duty. You say you love to wait on your mother; but suppose you did not like it, would it be right for you to refuse to do what you could for her?"

"No indeed," answered Maggie promptly.

"Mamma seems to like that jelly pretty well," said grandmamma; "but is there no other reason why she should take it?"

"Yes," said Maggie; "because the doctor said she must eat everything that would make her strong and well."

"So, then, you see a pleasant thing may be as much a duty as a disagreeable one. Right is right, wrong is wrong, and duty is duty; and we cannot alter that, however it may affect ourselves. Only we must try, as I meant my story to show you, to do _first_ the duty that is plainest, and which lies nearest to our hand, for that is God's work, and the thing He means us to do."

Bessie had been listening very thoughtfully to all that passed, and now she said gravely,--

"Grandmamma, I s'pose you mean me to take a lesson of your story, and to understand that if it is Maggie's duty to go to school and study, it is mine to stay at home and not study much, 'cause mamma wishes it. So one way is _her_ duty, and another way is _my_ duty."

"I did not mean the story more for one than for the other," said Mrs. Stanton, smiling; "but I am glad you want to learn something from it, dear; and I think you are right in saying that your duty lies in one way, and Maggie's in another. See who is knocking at the door, Maggie."

It was Patrick to say Miss Ashton was below; and he was told to ask her to walk up, while the children were sent from the room, that mamma might be at liberty to talk to her.

Miss Ashton did not stay very long; but it seemed to Maggie and Bessie an age, as they sat upon a hall chair, and waited for her to come from mamma's room; so that, as Maggie said, "They might see if her look had any good news for them."

Not only her looks, but her pleasant voice also, brought good news to them; for, as she met the two wistful faces which gazed up into hers, she stopped and said, smiling, "So I am to have two dear little scholars from here, instead of one, if your papa will consent."

Instantly every corner of Maggie's face brightened into smiles and dimples; while Bessie, slipping off the chair, seized upon Miss Ashton's hand.

"Oh, could you, Miss Ashton? could you, really?" she exclaimed.

"Could I what? Agree to take a loving little girl with her sister, and teach her just as much as her mother thinks it best for her to learn? Well, I think I shall try and see how it will work."

At this Maggie too came down from the chair, and took Miss Ashton's other hand.

"I am so very much obliged to you, ma'am," she said, too much delighted to remember that the lady was almost a stranger to her.

"Yes," said Bessie, "you can't know how very much we thank you, 'cause you don't know how much accustomed Maggie and I are to each other."

"And I hope you will soon both become accustomed to me, and learn to love me," said Miss Ashton; and then she kissed them, and, telling them she hoped to see them at school on the next Monday, she went away; and the children ran back to their mother's room to make very sure that the good news was true.

"Yes," mamma said, "it had all been arranged." Miss Ashton was very kind, and said she would give Bessie lessons by herself, if she were not able to keep up with the rest of the class, and she might amuse herself quietly during the rest of the time; and nothing now remained but to hear what papa thought of this new plan. Only one promise mamma said she would require; and that was, that when the weather was such that she did not think it best for Bessie to go out, Maggie should go alone cheerfully. Maggie readily agreed, and when papa came home and said, since mamma and Miss Ashton thought it would do, he should make no objection, the two little sisters were so happy in the arrangement which kept them together, that even Maggie had no room for dread of the new school and new faces.

So, on the next Monday morning, there were two serious, but not sad, little damsels who stood one on each side of mamma, ready hatted and cloaked, waiting till papa should give the word to start for school. Serious, for this was a grave and important matter to them--quite a new step in life, and to Maggie a very trying one. Still, Bessie was with her, so she could bear it.

Mr. Bradford gave the word, and their mother was hugged and kissed, as though the parting were to be for a month instead of three hours, and they went away. Mamma had bidden them good-bye very cheerily, and it was as well they did not see the tear or two that rolled down her pale cheek, or how sorrowfully she looked after them, as she thought how she should miss their sweet company during those morning hours when they had been accustomed to be with her. But she knew it was best; and so, after the way of dear mammas, would not let them see her own regret, lest it should add to their trouble.

Mrs. and Miss Ashton lived but a short distance from Mrs. Bradford, and in a curious, old-fashioned house that was very different from most city houses. It was only two storeys high, but very wide and deep, and away at the back stretched a garden as old-fashioned as the house, with stiff box hedges, gravel walks bordered with white pebbles, a fountain in the centre, and at the farther end two old summer-houses covered with grape-vines. The two sides which bordered on the street were guarded by a high picket-fence, the third by a low stone wall beyond which were half a dozen vacant lots; while on the opposite corner, at right angles with Miss Ashton's house, lived Mr. Peters, who kept the school which Harry and Fred attended, and his boys were accustomed to use these lots as their ball-ground.

Maggie and Bessie thought it a very remarkable and pleasant circumstance that these two houses, standing thus by themselves on one square, should be occupied by the two schools, and it gave them a more homelike feeling to know that their brothers were so near.

Mr. Bradford asked for Miss Ashton, and when the young lady came down, he said a few words to her, and then, kissing his two little daughters, left them in her care. Miss Ashton talked very pleasantly and kindly to them as she led them up-stairs, followed by Jane, who had also come to take off the children's hats and cloaks; but they both felt very homesick as papa walked away, and had no heart to answer her. It seemed worse still when their walking-things were taken off, and Jane went away, looking very unwilling to leave them. Maggie's eyes were full of tears, and Bessie only kept hers back by the help of a feeling that she was there to be a comfort to her sister, and so must not give way.

But things appeared brighter when Miss Ashton took them into the large, pleasant front room where the rest of the class were assembled. Here were seven little girls, and among them were Lily Norris, Gracie Howard, and Nellie and Carrie Ransom,--all looking very happy, and very much pleased to see Maggie and Bessie, and not at all as though school were a thing to be dreaded.

Place was soon found for the two sisters, and they were seated together, with Lily on Maggie's other side, and Gracie by Bessie. Next came the Ransoms. All these six were well acquainted and were glad to meet; but the three on the other side of the room were strangers to them and to one another, and looked shy and uncomfortable; and Bessie, as she talked with her young friends, felt sorry for them, and thought she would speak to them, if she only knew their names and what to say.

Presently Miss Ashton, who had left the room, came back with another child, and this one made the number of the class ten. The last comer was a pale, sad-eyed little girl, dressed in deep mourning; and she, too, was a stranger to all the others.

"Now," said Miss Ashton, "I shall leave you for ten minutes to become acquainted. Then my mother will come, and we will open school."

"But, Miss Ashton," said Bessie, as the lady turned to go.

"Well, dear?"

Bessie hesitated for a moment, for she thought perhaps Miss Ashton would think she was taking a liberty; but when she saw with what a kind smile she looked at her, she made up her mind to speak. She did so, not boldly, but with an outspoken, yet modest little way, that was all her own.

"You see we don't know each other's names," she said; "and I thought if you was to in-tro-duce us, maybe we could be acquainted sooner."

"To be sure," said Miss Ashton, smiling. "Thank you for reminding me, Bessie. I did not think the first lesson taught here this morning would be one of politeness, to be learned by myself."

"O Miss Ashton," said Bessie, "I would not be so saucy as to say you were not polite! I only thought perhaps you forgot."

"And so I did, dear; but true politeness should teach us to remember all those little things which may make others comfortable, or put them at their ease; and I am afraid we grown people often forget that children need such attentions as well as those who are older."

Then she introduced them all to one another, and went away.

The four whose names were new, were Belle Powers, Dora Johnson, Laura Middleton, and Fanny Leroy. Belle was the little girl in black, who looked so sad.

"Have any of you looked what is in your desks?" asked Nellie Ransom, by way of beginning a conversation. "Carrie and I were the first here, and Miss Ashton showed us. There's a slate, and a spelling-book, and a drawing-book, and a geography, and lots of things. Lift up the covers and look. She'll let you."

No sooner said than done. Ten low desks were ranged around the room, each with a chair of suitable size before it; and one had been given to each child. Every lid, but one, was raised at Nellie's words, and little heads were popped within to discover what lay hidden there. This gave food enough for talk; even Maggie had something to say; only one tongue was silent, and that was Belle's.

"I guess that is 'Sulky Sue,'" whispered Gracie Howard to Maggie and Bessie, looking over at the mournful, quiet child. "She'd better turn her face to the wall, till she comes to."

"Oh, don't!" answered Maggie. "She'll hear you;" and Bessie said, "I think she feels sorry about something, and her dress is so black. Maybe somebody of hers is dead."

"Yes," said Maggie; "and I'm real sorry for her. I would go and speak to her, if--if--I only knew what to say."

"I'll go," said Bessie, and, rising, she walked over to Belle. She did not know what to say either; but she did what was better: she put her arm around the child's neck, and kissed her lips in a way which told Belle of the sympathy that was in her heart.

Then Belle's tears overflowed, and, putting both her own arms about Bessie's waist, she laid her head against her, and cried silently.

"What is the matter?" whispered Bessie.

"I want my mamma," sobbed the child.

"But you know you'll see her pretty soon," said Bessie. "We are only going to stay in school a little while, and then we'll go home and see our mammas."

"I'll never see my mamma again," said Belle; "never, never, till I'm dead myself; and I wish God would let me be dead now, only then papa would be all alone, and he says I am all his comfort. But, oh dear! mamma is never there for me to go home to."

At this, Bessie's tears also ran over; and as the other children, drawn by Belle's distress, gathered about them, she pointed to the black dress, and said with trembling lips, "Her mamma."

Then Maggie, forgetting to feel strange, went down on her knees beside Belle, and began to caress her; and Gracie, full of remorse for having called her "Sulky Sue," seized on one of her hands and began kissing it; while the others stood around in silent pity.

Their sympathy did Belle good. She did not mourn the less for her lost mother, but she did not now feel so lonesome and cast astray as she had done a moment since; and, lifting her face with a faint smile struggling through her tears, she held up her lips to Bessie for another kiss, saying, "I love you, you're good; they're all good."

As she spoke, the folding-doors at the end of the room were thrown open, and Miss Ashton appeared, and hurried towards them, rather dismayed at finding her young flock in trouble so soon. It was speedily explained; and Maggie and Bessie felt sure that they should love their new teacher, as they saw how gentle and tender she was with the motherless little one. She did not say much, for Mrs. Ashton was waiting to open school; but, after sending the others to their seats, she led Belle to her own chair, which stood before the table in the centre of the room, and lifted her upon her lap, laying her head upon her bosom, and passing her hand over the child's hair and face with a soothing touch which soon quieted her sobs, and made her feel that Miss Ashton was her friend and comforter as well as her teacher.

The opening of the folding-doors had given to view a second room, where were gathered ten larger girls, from fourteen to seventeen years old--very tall young ladies they seemed to Maggie and Bessie; and Mrs. Ashton, a grave, elderly lady, in a widow's dress, sat just within the doors, where she could be seen and heard from both rooms. She opened school with a short prayer, and then said a few words to all the children, large and small, telling them she hoped they would be obedient, happy, industrious, and kind to one another.

"Now I would like to hear the names of all these little girls," she said.

The answers came very well until it was Maggie's turn to give hers, but the poor child was in an agony of bashfulness, and could by no means speak. While Mrs. Ashton was talking, she had happened to look up, and caught a pair of mischievous, dancing black eyes fixed upon her from the other room. After that, she could not help glancing up at them every moment or two; and each time she did so her colour deepened and deepened and her head sank lower and lower; for the owner of the black eyes kept smiling and nodding, making odd faces, and shaking her finger, till Maggie did not know whether to laugh or cry; and by the time the question came to her, her small stock of courage and her voice were both gone.

"Cannot you tell me your name, my dear?" asked Mrs. Ashton.

"Her name is Maggie Stanton Bradford," said Bessie, taking her sister by the hand.

"You should let your sister speak for herself, my dear," said the lady.

"No, ma'am," said Bessie, respectfully but steadily, "I came to school to be of use and comfort to Maggie, and when she don't want to speak 'cause she feels shy, why, she likes me to do it for her, so I have to. And, ma'am, you said you wanted us to be industrious; but I'm 'fraid I can't. I have to be rather lazy."

"My dear child," said Mrs. Ashton, "you surely do not come to school to be lazy."

"Oh yes, ma'am!" said Bessie gravely. "Mamma 'spressly said that I was not to study much, and that was condition that I came to school."

Bessie was growing rather frightened herself at having to speak before so many; but she thought she ought to let Mrs. Ashton know how and why she had come to school, and what was to be expected of her; and that she might as well have her say out at once.

The other children were all listening to her in great astonishment, and some of the great girls in the back room were beginning to laugh. Bessie wondered why they did so, and thought they were not very polite. Mrs. Ashton heard her with a half-smile breaking over her pale face, and Miss Ashton was smiling outright.

"Oh," said Mrs. Ashton, "I understand. You are Bessie Bradford. Mary, I think you should make this matter a little plainer."

Miss Ashton said she would do so; and then the doors were closed again, and the business of the day began.

"Now, little Belle," said Miss Ashton, "will you go to your seat?"

Belle clung to her teacher, and whispered something in her ear.

"Belle wishes very much to sit by Bessie Bradford," said Miss Ashton. "How shall we fix it? Will Bessie change her seat, or will Maggie or Gracie give up hers? It is only for to-day; to-morrow Belle will feel more at home, and that you are all her friends."

Maggie had not yet recovered from the effect of the black eyes, although they were now shut from view; and she tightened her hold of Bessie's hand, feeling that she could scarcely bear to be separated from her just now.

Gracie did not want to give up her seat either, for she liked to sit by Bessie; but while she hesitated, and Miss Ashton waited, she remembered when they were at Quam Beach summer before last, and went to Sunday-school in the barn, Maggie had gone to sit by Mamie Stone, a girl whom no other child would have near her, and with whom Maggie had just had a quarrel. And she thought if she would do so much for a quarrelsome child, who had been unkind to her and her sister, might not she give up her seat to this little, sad, motherless one, who already looked on the dear Bessie as her friend? She had called her "Sulky Sue," too!

Maggie would have been very much astonished if she had been told that the small act of self-denial and forgiveness which she had long since forgotten was bearing fruit now; but so it was, and, jumping up, Gracie said, "Belle may have my seat by Bessie to-day and to-morrow too, Miss Ashton."

Gracie felt quite repaid when she saw Belle's grateful smile, and the comfort she seemed to take in being close by Bessie.

Miss Ashton said they would have no regular lessons for that day, as she must first find out how much each one knew, and then arrange their studies; and she told Bessie she thought she had misunderstood her mamma's meaning. She did not wish her to be a lazy girl; she wanted her to be industrious, and try to do well whatever was given her to do; but she had feared Bessie would not be satisfied if she were not allowed to go on as fast as Maggie and some of the others; and _that_ she did not think would be wise. When she went home, she must ask her mamma if it were not so.

Then she questioned them all in the multiplication and addition tables, and in geography, made them spell words of different lengths, and heard each child read aloud; after which she said she should divide her class into two--Bessie, Belle, and Carrie Ransom in one; and the rest, she thought, could keep on together. Then she set their lessons for the next day, and afterwards read them an interesting story of a good and wise young prince, who had lived many, many years ago. This was Miss Ashton's way of teaching history; she would read or tell them of some good or great person on one day, and the next she would question them about her story, and see how much they remembered.

In fact, she made all their studies interesting; she had such a pleasant, easy way of teaching. For instance, she would say, "Belle, how many are three and three?"

Belle could not remember.

"Suppose three little girls are going to have a tea-party, you and Bessie and Carrie, and three more, Maggie and Gracie and Lily, come and ask to be invited. If you say yes, then how many little girls would there be at the party?"

"Six," answered Belle promptly; and Carrie said, "But maybe we would be dis'bliging, and say no, and then we would be only three;" at which the other children laughed, and so did Miss Ashton; but Belle never forgot again that three and three made six.

They learned none the slower for this pleasant, take-it-home-to-one's-self kind of teaching, you may be sure; and, as the weeks went by, there was not one of the little class whose friends did not find her greatly improved.