CHAPTER IX.

A PLUG IN THE LEAK.

THE winter had passed; and the first breath of spring found our family at the hut moving to the neat cottage on Mr. Burrel's grounds. Finding his new gardener had boasted of skill he did not possess, the gentleman, late in the winter, dismissed him, and advanced Allen to the place.

They had been in their new home but a short time when it was ascertained at the great house that Mrs. Allen was an experienced dairywoman; and henceforth the care of making butter and cheese for the family was committed to her. Aunt Mercy remembered her promise to find a cow, which the new gardener had easily obtained permission to keep in his master's barn.

Prosperity now seemed to dawn upon them, and they prized every comfort far more than when they had never known what it was to be deprived of it.

As soon as the light began to dawn in the east, the family were all astir. The gardener's duties commenced early, and he wished, before he left home, to give Mary all the assistance in his power. For an hour or two in the morning, Lizzie, too, was able to help her mother,—skimming the cream or preparing breakfast, but she had begun to attend a high school in the village, which, as it was more than a mile from her home, kept her away through the entire day.

John was absent at an academy, where Aunt Mercy had sent him for one quarter, in preparation for his business in his cousin's store. Bell and Carrie also attended school near by with Sarah and Ned, though they still had their daily tasks at the chairs, at which business they had become very skilful; and the proceeds of which helped greatly in clothing them. Every dollar which Mr. Allen earned, he gave into the hands of his prudent wife, and she knew what to do with them,—setting aside for necessary family purposes a part, and laying by a certain sum every week toward the accomplishment of a secret object very dear to the heart of her husband.

Every month Mr. Allen regained more of his former cheerfulness. He was often heard whistling at his work; and came home with a glad smile to be welcomed by a whole troop of children, who needed now no prompting in order to present their little offerings. On the Sabbath, quite a procession from the cottage walked down the wide avenue on their way to church. First Mr. Allen, with his wife leaning on his arm, the mother leading restless Fred.; then Lizzie, leading another little one; and Bell, a third,—all with that cheerful sobriety which proved that to them church-going was not only a duty, but a pleasure.

Yes, Mr. Allen had learned the truth of the inspired writer,—"Be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God who giveth us richly all things to enjoy," and had come at last to depend on almighty help for guidance in the right path. He was now earnest in teaching his children the Scripture, "Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall," illustrating the doctrine by a reference to his own fall; while his wife reminded them how ready God is to hear and answer prayer for the conversion of dear friends.

Mr. Burrel showed his approval of his gardener's industry and skill by constantly adding to their comforts. At one time he visited his cottage, and remarked that there was a fine opportunity behind the barn for raising chicken's. The very next day Jamie came home with a fine pair of fowls, a present from Mrs. Burrel. Later in the season, when the farmer was ploughing the garden, his master laid off an acre of ground, well fertilized, and told Allen he might plant it with vegetables for his family.

As soon as the fruit ripened, Bell, Carrie, Jamie, and even little Fred were busily employed in picking it for the use of their employers. Strawberries, currants, raspberries, blackberries, each in their season, together with peas and beans from the garden, were nicely boxed and carried to the kitchen of the great house ready for use. Mrs. Burrel often remarked that she had never before taken so much comfort in her garden. In former years, when fruit was ordered for the table, there was often the excuse that the servants were too busy to pick it, or that it was not fully ripe.

"And the Allen children are so well brought up," she said, "so respectful and attentive when addressed, and so thankful for any favors!"

In this way, and by always being ready to oblige, the little ones won many friends. The partly-worn garments of their friends were given to Mrs. Allen, who astonished the donors by making them up for herself or children so as to appear almost as well as new.

In Lizzie's vacation, Mrs. Burrel invited her to the mansion to assist in a sudden emergency, and found her possessed of so much good sense, and withal so lovely in disposition, that she determined to befriend her. Aunt Mercy, when informed of all this, was not at all surprised. She had always insisted that there was something about Lizzie better than beauty, though the young girl had enough of that, which would interest all those who knew her.

She had just passed her sixteenth birthday; her clear hazel eyes beaming brightly upon one convinced the beholder that there was both intellect and soul in the possessor. Her complexion was of that exquisite fairness usually the accompaniment of auburn hair, the abundant tresses of which were rolled off from her broad forehead in a style peculiar to herself. Her mouth was rather wide, but finely shaped, and disclosed a set of even teeth of pearly whiteness. Add to this that Lizzie had a straight nose and tiny ears, the lower tips of which were just visible beneath her hair, that her hands and feet were small and well shaped, that her figure was slight and graceful, and the reader can form a tolerably correct fancy in regard to her appearance. With all this, she was exceedingly modest and diffident with strangers, though her bright eyes would often sparkle with intelligence or mirth when her shyness prevented any other display of her feelings.

With her father and brothers Lizzie had a wonderful influence. Indeed, the only weakness he displayed on the point of expense, was in urging his wife to subtract something from their treasured hoard and purchase his favorite a silk dress for Sunday wear. But this Mrs. Allen wisely refused. A white muslin for summer and a thibet for winter were quite becoming enough and far more suitable for a girl in her circumstances.

Lizzie's heart was set on teaching, and as her father now not only withdrew his objection to her returning to her native place, but for some reason greatly wished it, she applied for a situation there in one of the public schools.

It was a disappointment to all, and especially to Mrs. Allen, that Aunt Mercy was still with her nephew in the city. But the family who had moved into a part of her house readily agreed to take the young teacher to board, in case her application was successful. The school was to commence the third week in September, and the first Monday in that month Lizzie was requested to meet the committee for examination. Her heart beat painfully as she, in company with the daughter of her old minister, went before them. But they were nearly all friends who had known her from the cradle, and who wished to put the best construction on her timidly-spoken replies. There was, however, one stranger present who, though greatly interested in the applicant, feared she was too youthful to maintain order in a district-school. He was the gentleman who had recently purchased from the liquor-dealer her father's old estate, and who had also been elected in his place on the school committee.

"What do you say, Miss Lizzie?" smilingly inquired one of the gentlemen. "Do you think you could keep the little ones to their lessons?"

"I don't know, sir, but I should like to try," was the eager answer, with so beaming a face that, as another friend remarked, "Lizzie has always been in an orderly family."

Mr. Greenough withdrew his objection, and the young lady was duly informed that the school would commence three weeks from that day. How she succeeded, or whether she succeeded at all, will best be learned by a letter she wrote her parents after a week's experience in her new business.

"DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,—This is Saturday afternoon, and I have resolved to devote part of it to writing you a long letter.

"I scarcely think Fred. or Nelly would know me, I have become so dignified. Indeed, I scarcely know myself.

"Though I have been in school only five and a half days, yet I have had some exciting events, which I will relate, but first I must say that I have thirty-four scholars, their ages varying from eight to fourteen years. They are generally obedient and attentive to their studies, with the exception of one boy, a black-eyed urchin, who began at once to defy my government, and said openly that he would not have a chit of a girl ordering him about.

"On Tuesday morning, while the scholars were reading the Scriptures in turn, he whistled aloud, and tried to make his companions laugh, but I am glad to say they only seemed distressed for me. I know I looked anxious, and my cheeks burned like fire, but I thought it best to take no notice of his bad conduct for the time. In the afternoon, while I was hearing a class recite in grammar (he had refused to come out of his seat), he began to throw slate-pencils and wads of paper toward the desk.

"I looked at him as calmly as could and said,—

"'I am sure there is no pupil here who wishes to disturb the recitations. We can do nothing without order.'

"'I shall do as I please, here or anywhere else,' he answered, defiantly, and he whistled louder than ever.

"Willie Greenough, a fine boy twelve years old, came directly to my side, and stood there, as if he meant to defend me from insult, while both girls and boys cried, 'Shame!'

"During the remainder of the morning I had no trouble.

"In the afternoon, Mr. Greenough came to visit the school. I saw Willie smile when his father took the great chair on the platform, and judged at once that he had been notified of our disturbance. At recess the gentleman talked with me about Thomas Brown, the unruly boy. He said I should not be troubled with him, for he ought to be expelled.

"'Oh, no, sir,' I answered, quite forgetting my fear of the gentleman. 'I hope to make him one of my best friends and scholars yet. If I cannot manage the school, I will resign it to somebody who can do so. I feel quite confident Thomas will be a comfort to me by and by. It is only a work of time.'

"He smiled pleasantly.

"'Well,' he said, 'I see you understand governing. I'll leave him with you for the present, on condition if you have trouble, you will send for me at once.'

"'Thank you, sir,' I answered, 'but Willie is so stout a defender of my rights, I have no doubt I shall get along very well.'

"'Ah, yes,' he said, warmly. 'You have made a friend of Willie.'

"I watched a chance for two days of talking with Thomas, but until Thursday night I did not succeed. Then I came upon him suddenly, and asked him to walk home with me.

"At first he would scarcely speak. I tried to convince him I was his friend, and at last, he said, sullenly,—

"'I never could bear partial teachers.'

"'How have I been partial?' I asked.

"'You let Willie Greenough do just what he's a mind to; and you smile at him ever so much. I saw you this morning when he gave you the flowers.'

"I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing, but I said,—

"'Did you know, Thomas, I used to live where Willie does now? I had a pretty garden then, and my father planted a rose-bush for me close by the window. It bore beautiful blush roses; and it was a rose from that very bush Willie brought me. When I smelled it, I was carried back to the time I was a little girl, and used to pluck them for myself. Do you wonder I was pleased with his little gift?'

"'Well, you let him walk home with you 'most every day.'

"'Of course I don't refuse his company, but I should have preferred yours, because I wanted to talk with you.'

"I then conversed with him about his studies and at last said, 'If I can't teach you, I must leave; for I never shall consent to your growing up ignorant on my account.'

"We came at last to Aunt Mercy's gate. He stood a moment awkwardly waking figures in the dirt with his foot, and his face as red as fire, and then burst out,—

"'You sha'n't leave for me. I like you tip-top, now!' And then he ran off as fast as he could go.

"This morning he brought me a large bunch of dahlias of a dozen varieties, and I think he was satisfied by the way I received them that I was not partial, unless it was to him.

"He has recited in every lesson since, and has not missed one word.

"This noon as I came by our old home, Mr. Greenough came out. I was surrounded with girls and boys, who took turns in holding my hand. He laughed heartily as he saw us, and said,—

"'I congratulate you, Miss Allen, on your success.'"

"I don't think I shall have any more trouble, though my rules are stricter than they were at first, but I explain everything, and ask who will help me. Thomas's hand was raised twice to-day, the first of any one.

"Mrs. Russell, where I board, is very kind, but I miss Aunt Mercy dreadfully. Please send me John's letters as soon as you receive them.

"Your affectionate daughter,

"LIZZIE."