B [4 ;rg SSfl ^ -'■-"-'■ •'/■' . fr« ; . . i THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES PR3991 .Al B3 . ll7KE.2 FN - C - AT C HAPEL k - * ? 10 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. things that can rule a man. Have you ever read the life of Alexander carefully, especially the latter part 1 " " Yes, sir ; he had some vices, I know, so has every- body." " jSTo doubt ; but the true heroes are they who con- quer them, or, at least try hard to do so. The Bible says, ' He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down, and without walls.' Can you picture anything more utterly lost and desolate 1 And again, ' He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty.' Did you ever try to get a victory over your- self, Arthur 1 — over your temper for instance 1" " No, sir, I don't think I ever did." " Then you cannot tell how difficult it is, and what a great amount of manliness it calls into action. Sup- pose you make a first attempt now, Arthur, and beg Robert's pardon for what you feel was amiss in your conduct to him this morning 1 " But Arthur evinced no readiness to take Dr. Hale's advice. He hung back with an angry frown darkening his clear forehead and bright blue eyes. At last Robert generously came to his relief. " Perhaps, as you didn't see what passed this morn- ing, sir, you'll excuse him," he said. " Certainty, I've no wish to force him, but I should be glad to see him choose the right course for himself. "Well, now you may go, boys." Arthur availed himself at once of the permission, but Robert lingered to ask if he might go out that evening. " To iSTunstead, I suppose," said Dr. Hale. THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 11 " Yes, sir." " Very well, you'll have two hours' light if you start directly after tea. How are you getting on 1 " " Not very fast, sir. I'll show you what I've done." Bobert produced from a small folio half a dozen sketches, and spread them carefully out on Dr. Hale's table. They were in different stages of progress, but seemed much alike in other respects ; the subject of each being an old ivy-covered house. " I see nothing amiss in them," said Dr. Hale, taking up the two most finished ones. "They are beautiful sketches." " But do they give you a good idea of the place, sir 1 " " Yes, as it is now, but there was less ivy round this side of the house in your mother's time." "Will you mark out how far it reached, sir?" said Robert, taking up a pencil. " And spoil your drawing 1 " "No sir, it will do it no harm." Dr. Hale used the pencil as lightly as possible, and mentioned one or two other points in which the aspect of the house and grounds differed from what it was twenty years ago. Then the sketches were put away, and a few drawing materials collected to be ready for use as soon as tea was over. About half an hour after, Robert was back in the study again, but he found Mary Hale and iSToriy there before him. " Mamma says we may go with you, Robert," she said ; " you won't mind taking Norry, will you 1 " " Not if you can walk fast." 12 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. Xorry not only undertook to do that, but to run if required ; so the three children set off together, and Korry, in his anxiety to be as good as his word, gene- rally contrived to keep a little ahead of the other two. Their walk was a very pleasant one ; first through the quiet Close, and then out by some sheltered lanes into the open fields. There JSTorry found it a little difficult to pass the fresh hedge flowers, but whenever he stopped to look at them, the sight of Mary and Eobert, coming on behind with grave business-like faces, sent him trotting off faster than ever. At last some strao;glin» O DO O cottages were passed ; then they turned into a quiet churchyard, and Xorry was told that he might rest himself, for they were not going any further. So he sat down with Mary on one of the little grassy mounds, and Eobert walked about, always keeping his eyes steadily fixed on the old grey church. " TVnat is he doing that for % " asked Nbrry. " He is going to draw the church, and is looking to see which side he shall do first." " Is that part of his lessons V "3So, he does it to please himself. He means to make two or three drawings of it to take home to his mamma." " But this is not a pretty church. "Why doesn't he do the one opposite our schoolroom 1 She'd like that best." "What, the cathedral 1 ? O no, she wouldn't, Xorry ! She used to come to this church Sunday after Sunday when she was a little girl, and that's why Eobert is going to make her some drawings of it. Come with me, and I'll show you where she lived." THE BATTLE WOETH FIGHTING. 13 Mary led the way carefully between the graves, checking Norry whenever he showed an inclination te skip over one ; and opening a gate at the further end of the churchyard, she pointed to a small ivy-covered house a little distance off. " We've had so many journeys to do that," said Mary, sighing, "and I don't think Eobert is satisfied now." " Who taught him to make pictures 1 " asked jSTorry. " His father. He was a great artist, and Eobert hopes to be one too, some day, and earn money to keep his mother in a nice home again." " But why doesn't* she come back to this one ?" " She can't, TSonj \ her father is dead, and another clergyman is living here now/' They stood looking at the old church for a minute or two longer ; then !Norry closed the gate, and they went back to their seat. Eobert had settled himself down to his sketching by that time, and seemed to be working away very busily. " Let us go and see what he's doing," said Norry, " Not yet, we should only hinder hiin." They sat still for some time longer ; but Norry, who was soon rested, would have been glad to run about again, and had a hard matter to keep himself quiet. However, he was so much impressed by the kindness of his new friends in bringing him, and the importance of the business on hand, that he felt bound to conduct himself discreetly. So by way of occupation of some kind, he tried to read the inscriptions on the nearest tombstones, but they were so effaced by time, that though he opened his eyes very wide one minute, or screwed them 14 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. up the next, as .he had seen Dr. Hale do when look- ing at anything attentively, he could only make out the capitals, and found it very dull work to guess at what followed. At last Eohert looked round, and Mary seemed to take that as a signal that he did not wish to be alone any longer, so she went over to him, md sat down with Sorry on the grass at his side. " It's dull there, with nothing to amuse you, isn't it?" said Eobert. " Why didn't you bring your work 1 '•' ' ? I had not time to get it to-day ; we came or! in such a hurry. How are you getting on % " " Sot very well ; I think I could make a nicer sketch from that bank in Mr. Elmer's garden, m begin there to-morrow." " And lose all your evening's work." " Yes, I can't help that ; and besides, there's a whole month before me yet." " But you're forgetting Uncle Edward's prize, Eobert." " Xo I'm not \ I'll try for that too, but Arthur has the best chance." " Is that what you were both quarrelling about this morning 1 " 11 Yes ; Eouis and I were translating the same page, so we took turns in looking out the words, and then Arthur said we were helping each other unfairly, and a great many more disagreeable things." " And then told papa you put yourself in a passion with him. Why didn't you explain 1 " " Because what he said was partly true. I did feel very angry, though I said nothing." " But how could you help it 1 Papa would not have THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 15 punished you if he had known how you had been pro- voked." " I don't think he would have considered that an excuse, Mary ; I shouldn't, if I had. been judge. There, now I'm ready." The little folio was packed, and Eobert tucked it under his arm, and the three friends started homewards, pass- ing through the vicarage garden on their way to see how the church looked from the sloping lawn in front. " She must have seen it oftenest from here/' said Mary, a remark that determined Eobert at once to take up his position on /the lawu the next afternoon. It was nearly dark when they reached home, and the lamp was lit in Dr. Hale's study. Eobert put away his things quietly, and was leaving the room again when Dr. Hale, who was writing at his own table, looked up to ask if his lessons were ready for the next day. "Ko, sir." " Then suppose you come here and prepare them." Eobert gladly obeyed, and worked on diligently for some time, with knit brow and compressed lips. When giving his whole attention to anything he certainly was not a pleasant-looking boy, and it was not surprising that jSTorry had felt rather shy of making his acquaint- ance. Soon after sunrise the next morning Eobert was again at work at Dr. Hale's table — a small steady one in the pleasant bow- window, where there was plenty of light for drawing, and before eight o'clock chimed from the cathedral opposite, he had nearly completed his corrected copy of the vicarage. Then the door opened gently, 16 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. and Mary Hale looked in to tell him breakfast was ready. " Has trie post come in yet 1 " asked Eobert. "Yes ; but there is no letter for you to-day.'"' He looked so disappointed that Alary tried to com- fort him by saying that he was sure to get one on the morrow. " I hope so, but mamma is so punctual. She never missed the day before." " But you need not be uneasy about her. She said she was better when she wrote last." "She always says that," answered Eobert sadly. The sketches were put away, and then he and Mary went into the dining-room, where the other mem- bers of the household were already gathered together for family prayer. As they rose from their knees, Mrs. Hale, a kind motherly woman, gave Eobert a warmer kiss than usual, for she was in all his secrets, and knew how the non-arrival of the weekly letter from his mother must be felt that morning. As soon as lessons were over there was a grave dis- cussion as to how the afternoon was to be spent. " I think I shall go and sit in the Close," said Louis Mead, " and see other folks work and play. It doesn't seem like a half-holiday if you are doing anything yourself." " Louis, how idle you are ! " said Mary, reprov- ingly, " Well, what does it matter when work is done ? Whatf s a half-holiday for, I should like to know, if it isn't to give you a chance of enjoying yourself ?" THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 17 " "Which in your opinion means doing nothing," said Arthur Clayton. " Suppose yon come and have a game of cricket with me." " Too much trouble this hot day. Perhaps Robert will go with you." " Oh, I didn't speak because I wanted any one. There'll be plenty of us without either of you ; but he can go if he likes." " I shan't have time/' replied Eobert. " jSTo, you'll be hard at work, I expect," said Arthur. " There ; ll be a fine chance of getting before us while we are having a little fun." " I shall not be studying, Arthur, if you mean that." " Perhaps you'll tell us what you are going to be about then." " I think I can guess," said Louis ; " looking after old Elmer's fruit. I saw him sitting on a gate staring at it the other day." " He wasn't looking at the fruit," exclaimed Xorry, indignantly. " What was he doing then 1" " I think you'd better put away your books and slate, Xorry," said Mary, "there'll be no time for clearing this afternoon." There was a general rush to the littered table, for no one liked to lose a minute of the precious half-holiday. Books and papers were seized on by their different owners, and disposed of according to his or her particular way of clearing. Robert and Mary got through the business very creditably ; Annie and Arthur with more regard to expedition than neatness ; and Louis Mead B 18 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTIXG. limited his exertions to gathering his property into a heap before him, and indicating to Xorry where it was to be put. When dinner was over Xony ran panting back to the schoolroom, in great fear of being left behind ; but, to his surprise, Robert seemed in no hurry to start. " Ain't we going 1 " he whispered at last to Mary. " Xot yet, you must wait a little." It struck Norry that they wanted to see the other boys off first, so he stationed himself at the window, and watched the hall door with great attention. Presently he saw Arthur come out, and set off at full speed down the Close. " There's one gone," he instantly announced. "Which one 2 " asked Mary., Norry could not remember Arthur's name, so he designated him " the cricketing boy." " Then we'll go," said Mary, and Eobert got out his precious folic. " But there's the other boy," said Norry. " We don't mind him," answered Mary. Xorry was very glad to hear that, for, just then, the '•'other boy" strolled across the Close, and sat down on a shady bench in full view of the house ; a position he was likely to occupy till the half-holiday was over. Mary ran to fetch her hat, and the next minute she and ^"orry were speeding along hand in hand after Robert, who had already started. As they turned the corner of the Close, Louis shouted to them from his bench, but Mary hurried on without answering, md, a little way down the lane, they saw Robert waiting for them. THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 19 " Is that a secret 1 " asked Nbny, pointing to the folio under Eobert's arm. " ]S r o, not quite ; mamma and papa know about it, but we don't want Arthur to find it out, because he would tease Eobert, and do all he could to hinder him." " And is the other boy better natured 1 " " Yes : and besides he would not take the trouble of interfering. Louis is a very idle boy." " And a greedy one, too," said Norry. " He thought Robert wanted some old gentleman's fruit." They had nearly overtaken Eobert by that time, but, as he was in a hurry, he still kept on some paces in advance ; and, presently, Nbrry, who had been deep in thought on the subject, asked Mary why Arthur liked to tease Eobert. - " I don't know. They never were very good friends, aud now trying for the prize makes them worse." " I suppose they both want to get it," said Norry, reflectively. " Yes, and it makes a great many quarrels. Papa has been sorry Uncie Edward promised it, but it can't be helped now." "When the vicarage was reached, Eobert spread out his folio, and went to work. Mary sat with her knitting a little apart from him, and told Norry he might look at the flowers and fruit if he thought he could do so without touching either. Xorry declared himself quite equal to resisting any amount of temptation, so he was allowed to wander off wherever he pleased. Eound the other side of the house he found more signs of life. A great dog was basking in the sun, and the sound of B 2 20 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. women's voices . came from one of the open windows. Xorry began to feel that he was trespassing dreadfully, but the dog wagged his tail in such a friendly way, that he ventured up to him, and stroked him gently. Just behind the dog, in a pleasant study, opening by a French window on to the garden, was Mr. Elmer, a kind-looking old gentleman, with white hair and bright eyes, who startled jSTorry by suddenly calling out to know who he was. "Please, sir, I'm Horry Xeal, from Dr. Hale's." The answer seemed satisfactory. Xorry was invited into Mr. Elmer's study, and next — rather an insult to his seven years — lifted on to his knee ; but Mr. Elmer looked so very old in the eyes of Master Nbrry, that he submitted to the . indignity with a tolerably good grace. " And have you come all this way to see me alone V asked Mr. Elmer. " Xo, sir ; I came with Robert and Mary." " Oh, then, he's hard at work on our old church, I suppose. Dear me, I shouldn't have cared to spend my half-holidays in such a way when I was a boy. Wouldn't vou like some fruit ? " " Kb, sir, thank you;. Mary said I wasn't to have anv." "Ah, because she is an honest little girl, and thought she must take care of other people's property ; but you need not be afraid to eat it if I give you permission. Do you think you could find a low doorway round at the side of the house?" " Yes, sir ; I passed it just now." THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 21 " Then go and ask my housekeeper to give you a little basket." Xorry went on his errand very nimbly ; and then he and Mr. Elmer wandered about among the fruit- trees, filling the basket with the ripest gooseberries they could find. When it could hold no more, Norry carried it in great exultation round to the two busy workers on the lawn. But there it was received with great indifference. Robert could not spare time to eat ; and Mary said that, if Mr. Elmer did not mind lending them the basket, they had better take the fruit home. Mr. Elmer made no objections, though he laughed at them for two steady old people. Then he sat down with Xorry on a bench near, and talked about the school doings at Dr. Hale's till Mary remarked that it was time for them to be going home. " And how have you got on ? " asked Mr. Elmer, as Robert w T as putting up his sketch. " I've done quite as much as I shall want, sir. The details can be put in at home from memory." Mr. Elmer examined the sketch with great attention, and then told Eobert he would make a first-rate artist some day. " I hope so," Eobert answered earnestly, for he was thinking of his mother. They wished Mr. Elmer good evening, and then turned into the pleasant fields again, ISTorry carrying the little basket of fruit. "We have not been to see Susan Turner lately," said Alary, as they entered the lane leading to the Close. 22 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. a " jSTo," answered Eobert, glancing at the fruit ; suppose we go now." " I think we should have time ; tea is always a little later on half-holidays. ISTorry, do you care for your share of the gooseberries % " Having picked them, and carried them so far, Xorry did care very much, and was obliged to own it. " Oh, never mind ! we'll leave your share at the bottom of the basket. There'll be enough for Susan without." ]SForry wondered who Susan Turner was, and felt rather ashamed of his own greediness ; but he was a very little boy, and the gooseberries looked so ripe and luscious, that it was a hard matter to give them up. They were entering the Close just then, and saw Louis Mead stretched on his bench exactly as they had left him. " I don't think he has moved since we've been gone," said jSTorry. "I dare say not," said Mary. "Don't let him see your basket, if you can help it, ]N"orry." They passed their own door, and then crossed the Close, Mary keeping Norry at her side, and dropping one end of her cape over his basket. But Louis, whose eyes were sharpened by their afternoon's exercise on the- passers-by, spied it out, and shouted to them to tell him what was in it. They kept on without answer- ing ; but for once Louis could be quick in his move- ments, and he overtook them just as they were turning into one of the quiet streets leading out of the Close. THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 23 cc Keep away ! " screamed Norry, as Louis clutched unceremoniously at the basket. " It's not for you." " Oh, isn't it 1 Come, we'll soon see ; I mean to have my share." " No, we can't spare you any," said Mary ; " we're carrying it to a poor sick girl." " Oh, that's a likely story ! " and Louis made another dash at the basket, and sent some of the gooseberries rolling on the pavement. Robert seized him, and held him firmly back, notwithstanding his kicks and struggles to get free. " You had better go on without me, Mary," said Robert. Mary took Norry's hand, and the two ran together down the street. " He is a very bad boy ! " said Norry, when breath- lessness obliged them to slacken their pace a little. " No, he is not, Norry — only a greedy one." Not feeling his own conscience quite clear on the score of greediness, Norry was silent for a minute ; then he remarked, — " But he is an idle one too ; you said so this after- noon." " Yes ; but I did not say he was bad. When I was ill last summer, he sat and read to me quite as often as the others did ; and once he brought me some jam that I know he wanted himself. So you see he can be kind and unselfish sometimes." But this statement did not quite mollify Norry's indignant feelings, and he rather comforted himself with the hope that Dr. Hale had seen Louis's niiscon- 24 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. duct from the window, and would give him a long lesson for it. They soon turned out of the broad quiet street, and Xorry got bewildered in a multitude of steep narrow ways, where the houses were very small, and, in his eyes, very disagreeable. " Does Susan live here ? " he asked, as they stopped before an open door. Mary answered " Yes," and led the way through a dark passage, stopping at the foot of a staircase that seemed darker still, to take the basket of fruit from Xorry — a wise precaution, as he stumbled more than once in toiling up the steep ascent ; and half the gooseberries, had they been in his charge, would, no doubt, have rolled to the bottom. A very weak voice said, " Come in," in answer to Mary's low tap at one of the doors on the dingy landing, and they went into a small room, close and miserable from neglect and poverty, where a little girl, of about the same age as Mary, was lying in bed. Xorry hoped that the gooseberries would be put down somewhere directly, and that they should run away again, but Mary went round to the bedside to kiss the poor sick girl, and say she hoped she was better. "Just the same," was the quiet answer. "Thank you for coming." M Have you been alone long ? " u Yes ; all day. Mother went out early, and father — " Sasan paused, and Mary looked down so pityingly at her, that Horry thought there must be something about father to be sorry for. THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 25 " I have "brought you some nice fresh fruit," said Mary. " Can I find anything to put it in V Susan thanked her, and pointed to a small corner cupboard. Mary went to it, and turned over the contents of the lower shelf — a few pieces of crockery that had been thrust in unwashed after breakfast that morning. One clean plate, that had evidently escaped use from its unserviceable condition, was found, at last, and laid beside the basket of fruit. " I am afraid it won't hold them," said Mary, finding the gooseberries had an obstinate tendency to roll out of the plate b}^ its broken corner. " I'll see if I can wash another." "Couldn't you leave the basket?" asked Susan. " It looks so pretty ; and Tom shall bring it round to you in the morning." " No, I'm afraid I can't," said Mary, " for some of it has to go back with us." " No, I don't want any," said Horry, "I'd rather she had it all." " Then I'll leave the basket. And never mind about sending it, Susan ; some one shall come for it." Mary said good-bye to Susan ; then she and Horry went down -stairs into the sweet, fresh summer air again. u I'm so glad I gave up my share," said Horry, who felt that he had made a great sacrifice. " She wants it more than I do." " Yes ; we can give up a great deal when we know that other people want it. That is why papa says we ought to visit the sick and poor, or else we forget them." 26 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. " And do you go about these nasty streets finding them out?" " Xo« papa does that ; and then he tells us of some one we may visit, and carry nice things to, as we can spare them." " There's a piece of cake still left that I brought from home," said Xorry. " I should like her to have that. Do you think we niav go and see her again to-morrow ? " "I don't know : but I dare say one of the boys will fetch the basket in the morning, so you can send yout cake then." Finding, on reaching home, that tea was not quite ready, they went into the schoolroom to put out a few lessons that would have to be studied that evening. Onlv Louis was there, bending a verv sulkv face over a book. "See what You've got me into" he scowled, without looking up. " Here's a long piece ! " Norrv thought ATarv would instantlv tell him that he had his own greediness to thank for it ; but she answered gently, " I am verv sorrv, Louis, but you know we did not mean it." " Well, never mind \ I'll have it all out with him before long." " Do you mean with Eobert ?" " Yes : what business had he to interfere?" " He was quite right, Louis ; you know that, and will soon own it too, I'm sure." Yery much to Xorry 's surprise Louis did own it THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 27 directly after that punishment lesson was said. He went into the bow- window, where Mary was sitting with her work, and telling her that he was very sorry for his ill-behaviour, promised better things for the future. " Perhaps it would not have happened if you had not been so idle all the afternoon," said Mary. " 1 think we ought to do something even on our half- holidays." " Do you ? Well, I'll see next time ; only it seems rather hard." " Oh no, it does not, when you once try." Louis went back to his place, and prepared his lessons for the next day. As he was putting them away, Mary said, " Would you mind going to Church Row in the morning to fetch a basket I left there V " How can I, vdien I've got to set to work directly after breakfast 1 " " But you can go before ; there'll be plenty of time." " yes, for you ; you get up so early." " And so can you for once. I'll wake you." " So you are going to be taken in hand," said Arthur ; " I hope it will do you good." " I don't mind if it does," returned Louis, good- hum ouredly. And very early next morning Mary was at Worry's bedside, asking him for the piece of cake he was going to send to Susan Turner. He sat up, and stared at her without speaking, feeling either a little sleepy and 28 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. dull of comprehension, or loth to part with his small store. " Don't send it unless you like, !N~orry." " yes, I don't mind. Only will it be safe if Louis takes it 1 Won't he eat it 1 " ' " !Nb, I think he is to be trusted now. Where shall I find it ? " Having hidden it in some out-of-the-way corner, ISTorry thought it would be best to hunt it out himself, which he did ; and then Mary wrapped it up neatly, and carried it down to Louis. They were all in the breakfast-room when Louis came panting in with the basket in his hand. Everybody looked up in surprise, except the two who were in the secret of his morning's expedition, and Dr. Hale asked him where he had been. He had just finished his explanation when the servants came in, bringing the letters, which had arrived later than usual that morning. Robert glanced anxiously at them as they passed him, but they were thrown down on the table in a confused heap, and he had to wait patiently till prayers were over before they were given to their owners. Then Mrs. Hale put one into his hand, and told him she would excuse him if he liked to open it in the school- room. Robert thanked her, seized his letter, and hurried away. He was so long gone that breakfast was nearly over before he came back, and took his place at Mary's side. Mrs. Hale passed him a cup of tea ; but both that and his plate of bread-and-butter were nearly untouched when the others got up from table. THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 29 " Stop a minute," said Mrs. Hale, a? Robert was rising too. " You have not finished your breakfast," Robert sat do\vn again, and as soon as they were alone, Mrs. Hale went round to him, and asked him, with her kind hand on his shoulder, if he had any bad news. Robert gave her the letter, then hid away his face, and tried to check his deep sobs while she read it. It was very short, and penned in a faint, tremulous hand. " I don't see anything there to alarm you, Robert," said Mrs. Hale. " Haven't you noticed the writing 1 " "It is unsteady. But you know your mother is not strong." " And was too ill to write yesterday." " She does not say so/' " Xo, but she would not have let anything else prevent her." Mrs. Hale knew even more about Mrs. Warner's ill- ness than Robert did, and felt she could not speak of it very hopefully. There was but one way to comfort him. " Robert," she said softly, " you know in whose hands your mother is 1 " " Yes, ma'am." " Then you must trust Him fully. If you had some tender pet — a little bird, perhaps — would you be afraid to leave it in my charge ? " " Xo, I should know it was quite safe. Oh, it isn't that ! " "What is it, then?" 30 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. Robert did not answer; and at last Mrs. Hale said — " Isn't it that jou. don't like her to be in any one's hands but yours 1 " "Yes, ma' am, perhaps so. But you know what I have been looking forward to so long — to be with her, and work for her." "Yes, I know, Robert." A kind, unselfish wish, which Mrs. Hale loved him all the better for cherishing so deeply, but which she feared would never be grati- fied. A little later Robert vent to his work in the study, and tried to conceal his trouble by extra diligence. So he kept on day after day, and Dr. Hale, noticing his grave face and sunken eyes, sometimes told him that the prize was not worth all that earnest striving for. Only Mrs. Hale and Mary knew that he had almost forgotten it, and that all he really cared to take home at the holidays were the drawings. On those he spent all his spare time, going to Xunstead whenever he could get away for an hour or two ; and often, in his anxiety to make his sketches faithful copies of his mother's early home, lingering in the old churchyard or vicarage garden to do his task again. Arthur Clayton watched his diligence with very unfriendly eyes. He knew nothing of the visits to JSimstead, but thought, like Dr. Hale, that he was only trying hard to get the prize. This conclusion only made him more eager to win it himself. He had no idea, as he said, of any one getting before him, and it was a rule with Arthur, whenever he could not succeed in attaining what he THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING 31 aimed at himself, to use every means — often unfair ones — to prevent others being more successful. Once when he and Robert were striving to see which should first reach the topmost branch of a tree, and Robert's hand was stretched out to grasp it, Arthur gave him a blow that sent him crashing down through the green boughs to the ground. It was a cowardly action, and Robert rose with a white face and fixed lips. But he was not hurt ; and both Mary and Louis, who had pressed up to ask him, shrunk back in affright, as they met his gleaming eyes. Arthur too slunk away, and from that time it had been whispered about among the children, till it got to Dr. and Mrs. Hale's ears that Bobert had a fearful temper. Many a punishment lesson had his evil repute won for him. Arthur's usual explanation of any dispute between himself and Robert was, " Oh, he's always getting into such awful passions ! " and this statement having been frequently repeated, Dr. Hale spoke seriously to Robert, one after- noon, in the schoolroom, on the evils of unrestrained temper, comparing a passionate man to the owner of a savage dog, ready to bite every one near him. " But would the man be much to blame, papa, for having such a dog if he kept him in, and tried to tame him ? " asked Mary. " Xo, certainly not," answered Dr. Hale. " But Robert does not seem to be doing so with his temper." And Mary said no more, as it was evident that every- body thought her remark had nothing to do with the case in hand. When the last fortnight's work was entered on, 32 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. Arthur began to see that he did not stand so well in his studies as Eobert ; and that, if matters went on so, he should certainly lose the prize. Something must be done ; but it never occurred to Arthur that that " some- thing " had better be a little extra diligence on his own part. He could not rise early in the morning, as Eobert did, nor give up his half-holiday. Both sacrifices in- volved far too much self-denial, so they were not even attempted. His only plan was to throw impediments in his rival's path ; an easier way, he thought, of keep- ing up with him than running faster himself. But it surprised him a good deal to see how patiently the hindrances were taken ; how quietly Eobert bore the loss of his own books, and waited till Arthur or Louis could spare theirs ; and how little he seemed to care about the disappearance from his slate of sums or exer- cises that had been carefully prepared. Annie Hale and Xorry often laughed, and said the fairies had to do with his things, but Eobert knew whom he had to thank for all the unkind tricks that were played him. Some- times, seeing his utter indifference to the worst he could do, Arthur began to fancy Eobert did not really care for the prize. But then, if not, why did he give up his half-holidays, and long pleasant summer evenings ? It was very puzzling ; and Arthur watched him more narrowly than ever, but was none the wiser. That Eobert was really working very hard was all he could see. There was always a book or writing folio under his arm whenever he went out ; and, if he happened to be broken in on unexpectedly, he was sure to be found bending over something that was instantly hur- THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 33 ried out of sight. What was it 1 Some private notes to help his memory 1 And, in order to answer the question satisfactorily, Arthur took the first opportunity that presented itself of prying into Bobert's desk. But he found very little there except a packet of letters neatly tied up, and some delicate drawings ; things that he threw contemptuously back, wondering how Eobert could trouble himself to keep such rubbish. "You'd better give up," said Louis, one half -holiday that he was enjoying after his own fashion. " Eobert is sure to win." " Is he ? How do you know that ? " " Why, don't ypu see how he's working 1 " " Yes ; but what's that got to do with it 1 " « Why, everything, I should think. If not, there might be a chance for me." " Well, perhaps there is ; just as good a one, at all events, as for him. It's a pity he takes so much trouble for nothing." Louis laughed, and stretched himself out more at his ease on the two chairs he was occupying. He knew that Arthur's boastful tone was only assumed, and that he was really in great fear of Robert's outstripping him. But Horry, who was standing by listening, not being quite so clearsighted, felt very wrathful, and eager to say something in defence of his friend's dignity. " He doesn't seem very sure about the prize him- self/' continued Arthur, "or he would not look so solemn." " Perhaps he's something else to trouble him," said Louis. 34 THE BATTLE "WORTH FIGHTING. a Yes, it's sitting in that grave-garden so much/' said Sorry, who had found the long hours in the Xunstead churchyard rather trying to his own patience sometimes; " that's what it is." " Hey, what do you mean 1 " asked Arthur. But Xorry felt he had already said too much, and did not answer. " Come, you'd better speak out, or I'll make you !" " No, you won't," replied Xorry, " not if you kill me." " Oh, what, it's a secret, is it — and you're in it ? " " Well, why shouldn't I be % " " Oh, I don't know, Fve not the least objection. Only all you've got to do now is to let me into it." " Then I'm not going to do it." " Let him alone, can't you ] J ' said Louis. " He means old Elmer's churchyard. I know Eobert goes there sometimes." " But that's more than a mile off. He could find plenty of quiet corners to work in nearer home." " But he mightn't like them so well. Don't you know his mother was brought up at the vicarage." Arthur replied that he had heard something about it ; but his own mind not being burdened with any tender- associations, he asked Louis with a stare what that had to do with it. " Oh, you'd better ask him if you want to know," replied Louis, lazily. " Here, Xorry, there's a man crossing the road with cherries. Just go and buy me a. penn'orth, will you \ " Xorry ran out on his errand very willingly. When THE BATTLE WOETH FIGHTING. 35 lie came "back Arthur was gone, so he sat clown with Louis, and got a very fair share of the cherries. Soon after they were eaten, and the stones cracked — a busi- ness which, being left entirely to Norry, was not very speedily accomplished — Arthur came in with a careless air, and slow step. But there was a crimson glow in his face that made Norry suspect he had not taken things quite so quietly while he was away. He threw himself down at the other end of the room, and pre- sently asked Louis with a yawn, what he had told him about that old place, Nunstead Vicarage. " Nothing particular that I know of. What do you want to hear about it 1 " " Anything youVe got to tell me." " Well, that won't be much. — I say, Norry, that man isn't gone yet. Can you lend me a penny V " No," answered Norry. " Oh, then, there won't be any more cherries to- day ! " and Louis sank back with a groan. " Y6S, there will," said Arthur, " as many as you like ! Here's a shilling, Norry ; you may spend it all, and we'll have a feast." " No, we won't," said Louis. " Norry, you give him his money back." " What for — what do you mean ? " asked Arthur. " That I'm not going to be bought over by a penn'orth of cherries." " Who talks of buying you over 1 What a fool you are!" " That's likely enough," answered Louis, with supreme indifference. c 2 36 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. ' ; Then you don't mean to have the cherries I " The tempting "basket was, just then, being carried past the window, so Louis prudently drew back a little, and then answered steadily, '• Xo, you may eat 'em yourself." " I suppose they've given you more on the other side to keep the secret/' sneered Arthur. " What secret % " " Why, Robert's. But if I want to find it out, I can do so without your help." " Very well, try." " Perhaps I know it already. I could tell you where he is, and what he's doing." " Because you've been to see. I thou.2,h.t so when vou came in." " Did you ? If you're so sharp, it's a pity vou can't see your own interest better than to fight his battles. You know he despises you ; and it was only the other day he brought you in looking like a whipped dog." "Served me right And he'll do it the next time he catches me behaving like a brute, I dare say." Arthur felt very angry ; however, he kept his wrath to himself, knowing by experience that its exhibition would not interfere in the least with Louis's serene enjoyment of his half-holiday. He had, as Louis sus- pected, been to Xunstead, seen Bobert putting the finishing touches to his last sketch, and ran home, greatly wondering what he was taking so much trouble for. Self-interest being, in Arthur's estimation, the only motive likely to prompt any one to exertion, he . came to the conclusion, at last, that Bobert was selling' THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 37 his drawings for pocket-money ; and this surmise was presently announced to Louis, with, extreme satisfaction at its remarkable sagacity. " Perhaps he does," was Louis's answer. " And lets you share the profits ? " " ISTo, there you're wrong," replied Louis, rummaging in his empty pockets. " I only wish he did, I should have a fine time of it ! " " He doesn't sell his drawings," said ISTorry, indig nantly. " They're for his mother. He is saving them all up for her." " That's a likely story," said Arthur. "What, that a -boy should love his mother!" said Louis. " Yes ; I suspect that's beyond you, sharp as you are. Come, you'd better give it up ! " Arthur began to think he had, for the time, at least, so he took up his hat and strolled out again. Presently Robert came in, looking tired and worn ; and as he put away his folio, JSTorry told him, in great excitement, that Arthur had been all the way to JSTun- stead to find out his secret. " Who told him I was gone there 1 " asked Robert. "I did," replied Louis, expecting to be collared and shaken the next minute. But Robert only answered quietly that it did not matter, as his work was quite done there now, and he should not have to go any more. " Oh, very well. Only if you have any secret, I'd advise you to look after it." " But I haven't one ; at least I don't want to keep it any longer. Would you like to see what I've done 2" 6b THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. Louis lounged round to the back of Robert's chair, and stood there while he spread out his drawings. There were three views of Xunsteacl Vicarage and three of the church. u "What did you do so many for 1 " he asked. t,' U " Because I hardly liked to leave any part out. This view of the house is from the church porch, and I almost think mamma will like it the best of all." " It's a nice drawing. How hard you must have worked to get them done ! " " Yes, I have : and other things have been neglected. But I can make up for lost time now." "Do you mean that you've cared more about finish- ing these drawings than getting the prize % " "Yes, a great deal. And if I thought I could im- prove them by copying them again, I'd set about it the first thing to-morrow morning. ALanima will care more for these pictures than the prize." " Well, she's worth taking a little trouble for," said Louis thoughtfully ; " there are not many like her." "How do you know ? You have never see i her." "Yes, I have. Don't you remember me being sent home after the fever ? " " Yes ; when mamma came to nurse me. But you had gone before she arrived." " But I met her at one of the stations on the road. She came into a room where I was stretched out, feel- ing thoroughly done up, — for I'd hardly got over my illness, — and she made a soft pillow for me with her shawl, and talked so pleasantly, that I was quite sorry when our man came to tell me the next train was up." THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 39 " But how do you know the lady was my mother 1 " " Because she put her name and address in a little book she gave me just as she was bidding me good-bye. She told me I was to write to her." " And you never did 1 " "No, what was the good? But I've often thought of her, and read her book. You shall see it if you like." ' He ran off to fetch it, and nearly fell over Arthur Clayton in the doorway. " Halloa ! " said Louis, " what are you hiding there for 1 " " Hiding ! what do you mean ? I've as much right to go in at a door as you have to come out of it, I suppose 1 " Louis shrugged his shoulders and hurried up-stairs Just as he had found his book, the bell rang for tea, so he thrust the little volume into his pocket and went down to the dining-room. As soon as tea was over, the pupils reassembled round the study table to prepare their lessons for the next day, a work that always took some time ; and the evening was far advanced before Eobert and Louis could betake themselves to a quiet corner, and turn over the pages of Mrs. Yfarner's little book together. Dr. Hale, who had remained behind in the study with Mary and ISTorry, went into the drawing-room in search of his wife, but finding she had gone out, he returned to his pleasant seat in the bow-window, and told Mary, who was still busy clear- ing, to fetch her needlework and sit with him. JSTorry, who was specially privileged as the youngest of the 40 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. party, drew in his stool too, and the three settled down very cosily together. Before long it began to grow dark, so work was pnt aside, and they looked out into the Close, where a party of boys were playing, Bobert and Louis among the number. " I'm glad to see they are getting more sociable," said Dr. Hale. " It has been quite a trouble to me to have my boys constantly quarrelling." " I think Louis is trying to behave better," said Xorry, with the gravity of threescore. " Yes, papa, to be one of your heroes," said Mary. " What do you mean 1 " asked Dr. Hale. " Don't you remember saying once, that to struggle with our faults was a battle worth fighting, papa 1 " " Yes ; we were talking of temper — of Robert's, I think. I wish I could see him trying; to overcome his." Just then Mrs. Hale looked in, and called Xorry, telling him it was time to go to bed. "Must he come directly'?" asked Dr. Hale. "We are making ourselves so very comfortable here." "Oh ! are you there?" and Mrs. Hale advanced into the room ; " I did not see you." It was nearly dark, and the bow-window in which Dr. Hale was sitting was a very old-fashioned one, deeply arched out on either side beyond the frame, so that, as he leaned back in his easy chair, his figure, which was quite hidden in front by an ample muslin curtain, could not be outlined against the faint light outside. " I suppose it is time to call the boys in," said Dr. Hale. THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 41 "Not quite. I told Robert lie might have another half-hour as I passed him, just now. Poor boy ; he seemed to be enjoying himself so much." "Shall you tell him to-night V asked Dr. Hale. " Yes ; it would not be right to keep it from him any longer. Besides, she wishes him to know now." " Isn't his mamma so well 1 " asked Mary. " ~No, dear, she is very ill." Mary's tears began to fall quickly, but silently. Bhe Lad seen something of Mrs. Warner, and loved her fondly ; but, just then, she was thinking of all poor Eobert's plans, and the bitter disappointment there was before him. "I think I shall tell him when he is in his own room to-night," said Mrs. Hale. "He will want to go home at once, no doubt," remarked the doctor. " Yes, and that will be best. John, I've been think- ing I ought to go with him ; but I don't know that I can be spared." "Hardly, Mary. We shall find it a difficult matter to get on without you ; but we mustn't think of that if you wish to go. He'll want some one to help and comfort him, poor boy ! We shall break up in little more than a week, and then, if you are still away, I can fetch you." There was a minute's silence ; then Mrs. Hale told Nbrry he must go, and led him away, saying to her husband, as she left the room, that she should soon be back again. Mary followed to see if she could do 42 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. anything to help her mamma, and Dr. Hale was left alone. It was his usual time for enjoying an hour's quiet reading, but his mind was full of Robert's trouble then, and the painful journey before his wife ; so he sat still thinking of both. Presently the door opened, and somebody moved about the room. It was one of the boys, Dr. Hale knew, and he took no further notice. The recollection that he was himself quite hidden from sight did not occur to him. A key w T as turned sharply in a lock, and the rustling of paper followed. Then two other boys burst into the hall, and one of them came across into the study. "Halloa !" said the last comer, who was Robert, "is that you, Arthur 1 " " Yes ; I'm hunting for my — my atlas, but I can't find it anywhere." " Never mind ; I'll give you mine." " But I would rather have my own. Will you light the lamp % " « No ; I don't chink Dr. Hale would like it." " What nonsense ! Well, here's a taper ; it won't frighten you to see that burning, I suppose. And here's some matches." Robert lit one, but it burnt dimly, and Arthur said he would find some paper." " But I don't want any," said Robert. " Yes, you do. Here's a bit ; no, that isn't large enough ; here's another. Arthur was tearing up a great deal of paper un- necessarily ; but as nothing more important than old THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 43 exercises was ever left on that table, there seemed no fear of his doing any mischief. The taper was lit, and Dr. Hale was just going to step out from his quiet corner, when a sudden excla- mation from Robert — one of mingled pain and passion — made him draw back again, and look silently on. Through the muslin curtains he could see quite well all that was passing in the room. Robert w T as standing just opposite, with a white, fixed face, and on the table, beside his open desk, were his drawings, torn and crumpled. For a moment he seemed half stunned ; then he turned, with a clenched fist, upon Arthur, who slunk back, and got the table between himself and Eobert. But the next instant the raised arm fell again, and the look of passion faded from Robert's face. "Well," said Arthur, who seemed considerably re- assured by the change ; " what do you mean by staring like that?" " Arthur ! you don't know what you have done!" The words were spoken very faintly, and with more than one deep gasp for breath. " Yes, I do — torn up some of your scraps ; you should not have left them about." " I did not. You must have taken them out of my desk on purpose to destroy them." " It's a story ! a base, shameful story ! " and Arthur sprang upon Robert, and struck him with all his force upon the forehead. He received the blow unflinchingly, only tightening the pressure of the clenched hand against his side. It seemed hard work to keep it there. 44 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. " Xow then, you may go with your story to Dr. Hale, if you like, and see if he believes you." Arthur had no opportunity for any further display of prowess, for his collar vras tlrmly grasped by Dr. Hale, whose fingers tingled to shake him well ; but he did not like to show less self-control than his own pupil had just done ; so he told him quietly to go into the dining-room, and wait there till he could speak to him. Then, after Arthur had slunk away, Dr. Hale laid his hand on Robert's shoulder, and said he was very sorry for what had happened. "Thank you, sir ; but I think I shall have time to do them again ; it will only be the loss of the prize." " And I suppose that was Arthur's purpose in destroy- ing them." " I cannot help thinking so, sir ; but it may have been an accident." But Dr. Hale had no doubt on the subject. He had heard the stealthy feet about the room, and the sharp click of the key in the lock ; however, those were facts to be discussed between himself and Arthur alone, so he said nothing about them. " Vrhat made you lay such a restraint on your temper just now, niy boy V lie asked. " I promised my mother that I would, sir." " And had vou no other reason ? " " Yes, sir. Our Lord has said, ' Blessed are the meek.' " " And you would like to be of their number % I think you will, my boy, but it's a hard fight for you." They turned to look at the damage the drawings had Page 44, THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 45 sustained, and it was found that only two had escaped. The others were torn in several rjlaces. " I have the pencil sketches by me still, sir," said Robert, " so that I can copy them again." " Not yet," said Dr. Hale, gravely ; " you must let them be for a while." He thought it was a good time then to tell him about his mother's illness, but did not quite know how to do it. With either of the other boys he would not have felt the same difficulty. But Robert was quick of com- prehension, and read the meaning of Dr. Hale's sad, perplexed face at a glance. " My mother is not so well 1 " he said. " jSTo, my boy," was all Dr. Hale could answer. " Have you known it long, sir 1 " " Yes — at least, for some weeks." "And not told me !" "It was her wish. She trusted that a great grief would have been spared to you." " And is there no hope now, sir 1 " "I wouldn't say that, but I fear not." Robert sat quite still for some minutes, with his face in his hands. Then he rose, and asked if he might go. Dr. Hale wished him good-night, and as he saw his colourless, grief-stricken face go past him, he felt sorry he had not left to his wife the telling of the sad news. She came in just as Robert was leaving the room, and he stopped for a moment to say "good-night," as he passed out. " Poor boy ! you have told him," said Mrs. Hale, as soon as Robert was gone. 46 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. " Yes, and I am sorry for it now. You would have done it better." - " No, I shouldn't. I don't think it would matter much how he was told ; he would think only of her." " Well, perhaps so. He is so different to our other boys — has stronger feelings and passions, but both under right control. He will have a great deal to suffer, I am afraid, as he goes through the world." The little taper was nickering out, so Dr. Hale lit the lamp and told his wife all that had just passed, recol- lecting, as he came to the end of his account, that Arthur was waiting for him in the dining-room. "And how will you deal with him?" asked Mrs, Hale, sadly, for Arthur's case seemed even a more sor- rowful one than Robert's. " I hardly know. At all events I can't see him to- night, I must wait till I'm cool." And he sent a ser- vant to tell Arthur he was to go to bed directly. Then he sat for a little while longer with Mrs. Hale, talking of her journey the next day, and discussing plans for the comfort of the poor sick lady. "I should like to stay and nurse her," said Mrs. Hale, "only she must look on me as such a stranger." " But she won't after you have been with her half an hour. Act as you think best when you get there." " And then there's home." " With Mary, a most trustworthy little housekeeper, to see after it. If Mrs. "Warner were rich, I should say, come back by the next train ; but as it is, I think there are many reasons for your staying a little while to see how matters are going on." THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 4r " I have sometimes feared she has been making great sacrifices to keep Robert here," said Mrs. Hale. " It is very likely. There is a deep affection between them, and they are both capable of any amount of self- devotion. If the worst should come, as we fear," con- tinued Dr. Hale, after a short silence, " tell her Robert will come back to us as our son." " Yes, it will be a comfort to her to know that." A little later Mrs. Hale went up to Robert's room, thinking it would lighten his sorrow to know that he would see his mother the next day. She left her light outside, and went softly in, asking him if he was in bed. " ISTo, ma'am, not yet." He was lying on the floor, as quiet and motionless as if he had been asleep. Mrs. Hale sat down beside him, and pillowed his head tenderly on her lap. He scarcely seemed to notice her, but after some time she felt his tears on her hand, and knew then that he could bear to speak of his trouble. " I have come to tell you that you will see her to- morrow, Robert ; we are going together." " Thank you. I ought to have been with her long ago. Why has it been kept from me 1 What is it % " " Something that has caused her much suffering, Robert, and that we thought the doctor's skill could have removed, but — " " Yes, I know. Don't tell me that, I can't bear to hear it again to-night." It was distressing to hear his deep quiet sobs \ but 48 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. Mrs. Hale knew that it was best to let his grief take its own course for a while. " If she could only have had a few happy years first," he said, " I should not have m inded so much. But hei life has been so hard ! " " Yes, I know, my boy ; and you meant to make it bright for her. So we plan sometimes for our best friends, and then we have to learn in sorrow the pre- cious truth that God has provided { some better thing ' for them." Then Mrs. Hale told him of some bereavement that had come to her very early in life. He did not pay much attention, but the low tones of her voice soothed him ; and when she had finished, and told him he must goto bed to get strength for the next day's journey, he rose directly, and said he was ready. Mrs. Hale stole back into his room more than once that night, and each time found him quite still in bed, but she could hardly hope that he was sleeping. They started on their journey very early the next day. Dr. Hale went with them to the train, and on his return summoned Arthur into the study. They had not met at breakfast that morning, Arthur having chosen to keep in his room ; and at the first glance at his haggard face, Dr. Hale saw he must have passed a wretched night. He held his head, however, even higher than ever. " I wish to leave, sir ! " was his passionate interrup- tion of Dr. Hale's first words. " I am not surprised at that, Arthur." "Whv. sir?" THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTING. 49 " Because you feel that you have forfeited our respect, and I am afraid that you are not disposed to win it back in the right way." " I am not going to do anything mean, sir." "Your idea of what is mean, and mine, are very different, Arthur. We found that out some time ago. In my opinion nothing could be meaner than your conduct last night." " What, in tearing up a few trumpery drawings, sir % " " Yes, when you knew that their destruction would give pain to their owner. But that is not all. How did you get possession of those drawings ? " Arthur was silent, and Dr. Hale went on — "By creeping into a room in the dark, unlocking a desk, and stealing the contents." " Stealing, sir ! " " Yes ; I think that is the term you would apply to such an action had you seen it performed by one of the servants. And now I have sent for you to ask if you have any apology to offer % " "]5Fo, sir, I wish to leave ! " " You think that the easiest way of getting over your difficulty." "It is the most gentlemanly one, sir." " Such a term as that cannot apply to anything con- nected with your share in last night's business, Arthur. It was base and cowardly from beginning to end, and you know that, though you try to brave it out." Arthur coloured, and his bright blue eyes w T avered a little in their fixed stare on Dr. Hale's face, but the next minute he had resumed his defiant attitude. D 50 THE BATTLE WORTH FIGHTIX& " I am sorry for you," said Dr. Hale. " I should have been glad to do you good, and see you go out into the world prepared to do your work in a brave upright spirit, but if you are determined to take your own way you must do so. I will write to your mother some time to-day." " I have already done so, sir." " And told her all the circumstances 1 " " Yes, as I see them, sir. And she will not put the same construction on them that you do." This was a statement Dr. Hale could not contradict, for he knew that Mrs. Clayton was always blind to her son's faults. " Well, it matters little to me what you may induce others to think of your conduct, Arthur," he said; "your own conscience condemns you, and you cannot doubt what is the judgment of One who is greater than your conscience and knoweth all things." Arthur was silent for a moment, but the evil spirit of pride which he had so long cherished in his bosom stifled the feeling of penitence which this solemn appeal had awakened, and his only reply was, " Then you have no objection to my leaving, sir?" " Certainly not, A hoy who will not make any effort to govern his bad passions is no fit associate for my own children." Arthur left the room not a little surprised and humbled. He belonged to one of the best county fami- lies, and expected that Dr. Hale would have been glad to keep him on any teruis. So he still hoped, until, THE BATTLE WOETH FIGHTING. 51 some time the next clay, lie saw his mother's carriage outside, and found he was really to go back in it. A few days after the Midsummer holidays were over Robert came back to Dr. Hale's, now his only home. The children were in the hall to receive him, and Marv held jSTorry back with womanly gravity when he seemed likely to launch into too lively a demonstration of pleasure at the sight of his old friend. " Hush, Norry, you forget ! " She was thinking of the great sorrow that had passed into Eobert's life while he was away. Norry was instantly sobered into more discreet behaviour, and looked quietly on as Eobert followed Mrs. Hale into the dining-room without stopping to bestow a smile of recognition on any one. " He'll come to us presently," said Mary ; " mamma will know best how to comfort him now." They went into the study, Louis and Annie following, and sat down in the bow-window to talk over all the little plans ' they had been forming for some days past to make Eobert's new home pleasant to him. He had come back to warm, generous hearts, ready to sacrifice their best things in his service. Even in his grief he had a grateful consciousness of that, and his was not a nature likely to forget such kindness in after life. d 2 LEXA'S OFFEEDTG. ,f A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it ; "whithersoever it torneth, it prospereth." — Prov. xvii. 8. A group of children were standing round one of the upper windows of a house in Harley Street, eagerly watching the arrival of visitors below. Carriage after carriage put down its gaily- dressed occupants, and then rolled slowlv awav. Graduallv the hot dusty street began to darken, and the bustle subsided. One by one the children quitted their station, and at last only a boy of ten or twelve still lingered at the window. Before long bis patience was rewarded : a cab heavily laden with luggage drew up at the door. There was, of course, a general rush to the window again, and eager eyes peered curiously out. " I expect it's old IvTosely by the style/' remarked the persevering watcher. " And brought his boxes with binn Tom," said Frank, his elder brother.; "tbat's a likely affair !" This idea caused a good deal of amusement, in the midst of which one of the children suddenly discovered that there was a little girl in the cab. " So there is," said Frank. "Why, I shouldn't wonder if it were Lena Halcot ! Is she expected to-day, ALiss Emerson?" Lena's offering. 53 Miss Emerson, their teacher, an elderly lady, who was trying, somewhere in the background, to rest a weary pair of eyes, replied that she had not heard any- thing about it, and sighed heavily over the prospect of soon having an addition to the noisy little party already under her charge. " Is the little girl alone 1 " she asked. " jNo, there's a gentleman with her ; mamma said she was coming home under the charge of a clergyman, so it must be Lena." A few minutes after, Miss Emerson vvas summoned from the room ; and the next the children heard was that the gentleman and the little girl were taking tea in the library. " Then it is Lena !" said Frank ; " so I shall go and see what she is like." " Mamma said we were not to go down," said Grace, the only daughter of the family ; " and Miss Emerson will be cross if you do, Frank." "Who cares for Miss Emerson?" said Frank, and he strode off with the dignity of a young gentleman but lately emancipated from governess thraldom. On his return he was eagerly questioned — " Is it Lena, Frank 1 How old is she 1 Do you like her ?" " No, I do not," was his answer to the last question ; " she's a stumpy disagreeable-looking little thing, and will be a regular nuisance, you'll see." This prediction being received as likely to be ful- filled, was, as might be expected, speedily verified. Lena had scarcely been a week among her new friends ; before it was unanimously affirmed that she was in 54 Lena's offering. a everybody's way. Her chief fault seemed to he niopiu a habit likely to he indulged in by a quiet child thrown suddenly among strangers, hut which no one seemed disposed to regard charitably. The poor child herself was, of course, the greatest sufferer from her inability to settle down contentedly with her aunt and cousins. She was an orphan, both parents having died some months previously, under very sad circumstances, at a distant station in India. Her aunt, Mrs. Jenyon, in her first grief for the loss of her brother, from whom she had been estranged for many years, in consequence of her dislike to his wife, kindly offered to take charge of their only remaining child. So Lena came, but for some months passed a dull listless life in the midst of her merry cousins. With Miss Emerson she was always in disgrace, from her unwillingness or inability to do the tasks that were set her ; and yet dreary as the hours of study seemed, they were, perhaps, the pleasantest portion of her day. As soon as they were over, Lena's first care was to escape from the wild spirits and teasing ways of her cousins, by taking refuge in some quiet hiding-place — a habit that had made Master Frank, who was going through a course of Natural History with his tutor, declare that she belonged to the order cheiroptera, and that be intended to get up some night on purpose to have the pleasure of seeing her frisk about. Lena sometimes gave evidence of having a good deal of spirit, but unfortunately, as her aunt and teacher remarked, in a way that was sadly to her discredit. The first exhibition of this kind was very startling. Lena's offering. 55 Lena was crouched up in a corner one afternoon, with a book in her lap, when her cousin Grace, who was nearly the same age as Lena, asked her to assist in winding some silk. As usual, she was unwilling to oblige, and gruffly refused by saying she was busy reading. " Sleeping, you mean," said Frank. " I've watched you for the last half hour, and not seen you turn a single leaf." " No, I was thinking just now, and forgot my book," answered Lena. " Thinking ! " repeated Tom, who was Frank's junior by a year, but far- beyond him in ingenuity in giving pain to others at the least possible cost to himself, " Miss Emerson says you can't think." " I know she does," replied Lena, resignedly. " I suppose you were thinking last night at Mrs. Poleson's, when you would not dance, nor play at forfeits. But she said you were the most disagreeable little thing she had ever seen in her life." "Did she 1 ?" said Lena, with provoking indifference. " Yes, and then some one told her you were just like your mamma, who was dreadfully disagreeable too." In a moment Lena's book was thrown down, and rushing on Tom, who was perched on a high stool before his desk, she dragged him to the ground. A furious battle ensued, in the midst of which Miss Emerson suddenly appeared, and took instant possession of Lena, who it was easy to see was the assailant. For the next hour she was crying quietly on the floor of the darkest room in the house, with its door securely ■56 leva's offering. fastened upon her. ZS"ow and then an exultant whistle sounded through the keyhole, a performance which she very correctly ascribed to Tom ; but she was too un- happy, just then, for it to be in his power to vex her any more. As it grew dark, there was a gentle knock at the door, followed by a few whispered words of comfort. " Xever min d, Lena, you'll be let out in a minute or two/' "But I don't want to get out, Grace," answered Lena, who had recognised the voice. u I would rather stav here.'' " no, you wouldn't ; it's wretched being in there. Frank has told mamma that Tom was a coward to say. what he did. and so vou are going; to be let out/' A few minutes after the lock was turned, and Xiss Emerson entered the room. " Here, jump up, child," she said, " and let me smooth vour hair." "But I don't want to be let out," persisted Lena, sulkily ; " I don't, indeed." '■' Xonsense, there is Mir, Archer waiting for you down-stairs — the gentleman who brought vou from India. Will you go and see him, or shall I tell him you are naughty, and won't come ? " In an instant Lena had sprung past Miss Emerson, and was hurrying down-stairs. Peeping first into the drawing-room, where she saw only a group of gaily- dressed ladies, and then into the empty breakfast and dining-rooms, she found her visitor, at last, in the studv. which had iust been vacated bv Tom and his tutor. Mr. Archer was too deep in thought to notice Lena's offering. 57 her quiet entrance, but he looked up with a smile as she stood in front of him, and drew her kindly to his side. " I have come to bid you good-bye, Lena," he said. " I leave England next week." " Oh, how I wish you could take me with you ! " said Lena, passionately. " But I can't, my child ; it is best for you to be here. I am leaving many precious ones behind me, but it can't be helped." He sighed so heavily, that Leu a checked her sobs by a strong effort, and asked him quietly how long he should be away. " Some years, dear ; but we must be patient, and do our best wherever our lot lies, till we meet again. When does your aunt go to Fennerton Court 1 " " Some time next month," answered Lena, looking up in surprise. " Do you know Fennerton 1 " " Yes, my family resides there, dear — my mother and sisters and all my little children. Would you like to see them 1 " " yes. so much, if my aunt will let me." " I don't think there will be any difficulty about that. My sister has promised to call on you when you are at Fennerton, and take you back with her sometimes. She is very kind, Lena, and I have no doubt you will like her." Lena felt sure she must like any one belonging to Mr. Archer, but she was too timid to say so. A few minutes after, she had to bid him good-bye, for his remaining time in England was very precious ; and 58 lexa's offeeixg. then she went back to the dull schoolroom, above, trying to comfort herself for the loss of her kind Mend by the thought that in three weeks she should be at Fennerton. But those three weeks seemed, as they passed, to drag themselves out into three whole months. Tom teased more than ever, Miss Emerson scolded, and Lena, resenting all her annoyances by fits of sullenness or passion, was generally in disgrace. The packing brought a little diversion. Everybody was too busy to pay much attention to Lena, and she could look on at what was going forward without being much molested. Frank and Tom packed and unpacked their odds and ends about twenty times a day, and kept her busily em- ployed in hunting up lost balls of string, penknives, and other small matters ; but she did not mind that, as every separate time that their precious property was securely corded up seemed to bring the moment of starting to Fennerton a little closer. " Why, what difference does it make to you where we are ? " asked Tom, one busy morning. Like most tormentors, he was a quick observer, and Lena's keen interest in the preparations for leaving Harley Street had not escaped him. " You won't ride on my pony/' he proceeded, " nor go skating on the lake. It will be Miss Emerson and the schoolroom for you there, just as it is here." " I know that," answered Lena, quietly. " For some things it will be worse, for there's nobody to give you nice little suppers like Mrs. Poleson and the Brettles." " But Lena doesn't care for that, Tom," said Frank Lena's offering. 59 " she isn't so greedy as you are. Here, give me the key of this box. There's a pair of compasses at the bottom that I shall want this afternoon." "0 dear ! unpacking again/' said Lena, sighing. That was a process she witnessed most unwillingly ; it seemed to throw everything back again. There was a large dinner party at the Jenyons' the day before the family left for Fennerton Hall. Lena always liked to steal into the dining-room when it was prepared for company, as her uncle was costly in his tastes, and, at all seasons of the year, had his table, on special occasions, richly adorned with fruit and flowers. As she ventured in that evening, and looked admiringly round, Tom's face suddenly peeped from behind a handsome centre-piece that was flashing with lights and brilliantly tinted flowers. " Come here and look at this bunch of grapes, Lena," said Tom. " Isn't it a beauty 1 — wouldn't you like it 1 " " No," answered Lena; "it wasn't put there for me, so I don't want it." " Oh, I dare say ! You'd rather let old Mosely have it, or that conceited young Poleson, wouldn't you 1 " " Yes, if they like. I don't care who gets it." " Oh, very well ! Then you shall have the pleasure of seeing me eat it. Here goes," and Tom stretched across the table. " If you take it, Tom, I'll tell Miss Emerson," and Lena tried to hold Tom back, but he seized her chubby fingers in his, and obliged them to close on the tempting bunch of grapes. A furious scuffle ensued. Tom and. Lena pushed and pulled 3 the massive centre-piece 60 Lena's offering. rocked to and fro, and at last came down with a great crash, scattering ruin all around it. Tom and Lena fell back aghast at the catastrophe, and looked at each other in affright. " Tom ! how could you 1 " gasped Lena. " How could you, you mean," returned Tom. He had quite recovered his self-possession by that time, and was looking in innocent unconcern at the mischief he had caused, when his mamma and Miss Emerson hurried into the room, followed by one oi two servants. " Tom, Tom ! what have you done 1 " said Mrs. Jenyon, who did not at first perceive Lena. "It was Lena," replied Tom; "she wanted to get a bunch of grapes." " I did not," said Lena, sullenly ; " you wanted them." " What were you pulling at them for, then, if you didn't want them 1 " " Because you held my hand and made me. I couldn't prevent it." "A likely story," said Tom. ""What should I want a cat's paw for 1 — the dish wasn't hot." This line of argument was deemed conclusive, and Lena was led to the dark room up-stairs in sad dis- grace. The next day she had one of her sullen fits, and refused to add anything to the explanation she had already given. Frank was the only one who stood up for her ; but his championship was conducted in such a very off-hand manner, that Lena did not in the least Lena's offering. 61 thank him for it. He believed her version of the affair, he said ; for, disagreeable as she was, he had never found her guilty of greediness or story-telling, while Tom was constantly being convicted of both. However, Tom maintained his innocence so stoutly, that he came off the conqueror; and on the morning after the arrival of the family at Eennerton Court he was careering round the park on his pony, while Lena was still a prisoner in Miss Emerson's custody. " I think you had better beg your aunt's pardon," said Miss Emerson ; "you will get nothing by holding out." " I haven't done anything wrong," answered Lena ; "there is nothing. to be forgiven." " But your aunt is the best judge of that, and she thinks there is. Come, don't be a foolish child ; it isn't very pleasant to be in disgrace." " I don't mind when there is no cause for it," an- swered Lena, sturdily. But a day or two after, when she heard that one of her aunt's visitors, who, she felt sure, must be Miss Archer, had asked to see her, and been told that she was in disgrace, and could not be allowed to come down, Lena felt that punishment, whether merited or not, is a very bitter thing indeed. After that, her imagination was constantly suggesting disagreeable probabilities. Among the worst was a fear that, having heard such a bad account of her on her first visit, Miss Archer would never ask for her again ; and that Mr. Archer might one day hear of her naughti- ness, and feel glad that his little children had never known her. A dreary week followed, and then Lena's 62 Lena's offering. position grew less unpleasant. Though not quite re- stored to favour, she was again allowed to share some of her cousin Grace's privileges. One evening Mrs. Jenyon was receiving some friends, and Lena, with her two elder cousins, went down for a short time to the drawing-room. Tom, on account of some misdemeanour, was kept back — a mode of punish- ment which he resented highly, but which Lena, being very shy of strangers, would have been glad to share. As soon as she could contrive to escape, she stole away into an adjoining conservatory— a pleasant retreat, bright with gay flowers, and lit up here and there by softly glowing lamps. The place had special at- tractions for Lena. ~No tormentor's face was likely to peer from behind any of the green foliage, for neither Frank nor Tom was much given to solitary meditation ; and besides the luxury of being able to wander about unmolested, she could enjoy the sight of many well- known plants, that seemed like old friends. At the further end of the conservatory was a snug little bench, and there Lena sat down, intending to stay till Miss Emerson, who was in the secret of her hiding-place, came to fetch her. Presently there was a soft rustle of silk close behind her, and, looking round, she saw a lady with a sweet grave face. " Are you Lena Halcot ? " asked the lady, holding out her hand. " Yes, ma'am." And Lena jumped up, flushing and trembling with eager anticipation. " Could this be Miss Archer 1 " LENA'S OFFERING. 63 The question was answered by the young lady taking Lena in her arms, and kissing her tenderly. "Can you make room for me on your seat 1 " asked Miss Archer. Lena gathered her white skirts into the smallest possible compass, and then nestled closely up to her new friend. " I was afraid you would never try to see me again," she said. " Why not, Lena ? " " Because you heard before of my being so naughty. But it was Tom who wanted the grapes, and broke the centre-piece ; it was indeed/' " Then I hope he has explained all that." " No, he hasn't ; he's a wicked story-telling boy, and I hate him." " my poor child," said Miss Archer, softly. " Why do you pity me 1 " asked Lena, who felt con- scious of not deserving much compassion just then. " Because you say such very shocking things. But now tell me how all this happened 1 " Lena gave a truthful version of the affair, and then Miss Archer asked whether Tom's word was generally relied on in the household. " ISTo ; everybody knows he is a story-teller." " And you have not the same character, I hope, Lena T " dear, no. Frank said he believed me, for I always spoke the truth." " And was he the only one who took your part 1 " " Yes, and he did it so unkindly that I would rather he had not interfered at all." 64 Lena's offering. " Then I am afraid, Lena, that you have not any friends in the. household," said XEiss Archer, gravely. "Xo, not one ; everybody is unkind to me." u That is a very sad state of th in gs ! Are you quite sure that it has been brought about without any fault on your side ? Think a little, dear, before you answer me." Lena obeyed, and then said honestly, " Perhaps not, but I don't see how it is to be helped/' " Listen to me, Lena. In olden times people never liked to venture empty-handed into the presence of any one from whom they hoped to obtain some favour. Sometimes their gift was poor, sometimes it was rich, according to their means. You remember. I dare sav, that the sons of Jacob took a present to the powerful governor ot Egypt, and the wise men of the East pre- sented gifts to the infant Saviour. I am afraid, Lena, you came among your unknown friends here without your offering." "But I hadn't anvthin^ to brin^. ^liss Archer." " ves. vou had, dear, if vou had been willing to offer it ; something so precious that money could not buv it." " I don't know what it could be." " Then I must help you to find out. Why were you so glad to see me just now ; did you think I had brought you a very handsome present ? " " no, I shouldn't have cared for that at all" " But you expected something, what was it ? " " I hoped you would like me, and be kind to me." " That I should bring you a little store of love. So Lena's offering. 65 then, Lena, a pleasant offering can be made that does not cost ns anything. Wouldn't it have been easy to bring that to your new friends % " " Yes, if they had been kind to me." " Oh, the kindness would have come in due time. Those wise men of old presented their gifts first, and then waited patiently till the favour they desired was granted them. You must follow the same plan, Lena." " But not with every one, Miss Archer. I can't love Tom, who is always teasing me, and getting me into trouble." " "Well, not all at once, I dare say. But what do you generally do when he teases you % Tell me quite truthfully." "Sometimes I feel sulky," Lena murmured, "and sometimes I get into a dreadful passion." " Well, suppose, instead of doing either, you try to take his teasing gently. Do you think that will be very difficult to manage 1 " " Yes, I am sure it will ; and, besides, it won't be loving him, Miss Archer." " But it will be a first step towards it, and towards making him love you too. However, we can talk about this another time, Lena, for your aunt has promised to let you spend to-morrow with me." " Oh, thank you ; and is Grace to go too 1 " " No, I must have you quite by yourself on your first visit, for I have so much to talk about, and so many new friends to whom I wish to introduce you. And now, I think, we must not stay here any longer. Will you come back with me % " E 66 lexa's offering. "Oh, I like being here so much best, ]\Iiss Archer." "But it is not good for you, Lena, nor right, to mope by yourself. Come, I am not going to leave you behind'' They Trent back to the drawing-rooni together, and very soon after Lena was summoned away by Miss Emerson. Tom was in hiding somewhere on the stairs to make a few faces at her as she passed ; but in her quiet room she soon felt quite happy again, and lay awake some time thinking of the pleasant visit she was to pay on the morrow. But the day began, as wished-for days often do, a little inauspiciously. Tom was ill-tempered at having seen Lena promoted to favour in his place, and her evident satisfaction at her approaching visit to the Archers was in his estimation a further aggravation of his wrongs. Just before she started he took an opportunity of soothing his wrathful feelings in a way peculiar to himself. " So you're going out all alone to-day, Lena," he said ; " isn't that grand!" "I don't know," Lena answered, soberly, not quite liking the twinkle in Tom's eve. " But vou or Grace will go with me next time, I dare say." " Oh, shall we I that's a likely thing ! " " Yes, I know Miss Archer means to ask you." " Does she 1 it's verv obliging of her, I'm sure ! But the thing will be to get us to go." "I don't expect there'll be much difficulty about that," answered Lena. Lena's offering. 67 "Oh, then, you've got to find out your mistake. Mamma says the Archers are not visitable people." " Then why did she ask Miss Archer here to dinner yesterday 1 " " Oh, because it couldn't be helped, I suppose. But Miss Archer's coming to us and our going to see her are two very different things." " You are telling dreadful stories now ! You know she is quite as good as any one here." "Oh, is she? Well, Blake told me the other day that Miss Archer and her mother dig up their garden, and wait on themselves at dinner." Lena did not know that they might do both and yet be ladies at the same time ; so, as the only way of main- taining their dignity, she denied the charge with great vehemence. " Ah, well, you'll see," said Tom. " I'd advise you to wear your oldest frock, and take a pinafore, for they'll soon set you to work." Lena's passion was just getting quite beyond her own control, when Miss Emerson fortunately entered the room, and restored order. An hour after, Lena stood with swollen eyelids at the door of the Archers' cottage. Miss Archer came out to receive her, looking, Lena thought, nicer than on the previous evening, though her handsome silk dress was exchanged for a plain cotton one. She led Lena up-stairs to a small neat chamber, bright with white draperies and richly-tinted autumn flowers. " I am afraid you have been in trouble this morning, dear," she said, as she took off Lena's hat, and carefully e 2 68 lena's offering. smoothed her hair. " But never mind, we'll talk about it by-and-by. I want you to come and see my school now/' "I didn't know you had one," answered Lena in surprise. " But you have heard of my scholars, I am sure ; they are my brother John's children, Lena. We have not finished our lessons yet, but you can come with me if you like and see how we get on." Lena did not feel at all obliged to Miss Archer for the permission, and followed her very reluctantly, fearing she should soon see cause to grow terribly afraid of her. The schoolroom into which she was conducted, however, was not at all alarming in its aspect. There were pleasant pictures on the walls instead of maps, and not a single form or high stool to be seen • but Lena found soon after that the apartment was used as dining-room as well, a circumstance that accounted for the absence of all customary schoolroom decorations. Six children, varying in age from thirteen to four, were seated round the long centre table. They all rose as Lena entered the room, and came one after the other to shake hands with her. She knew the name of each, and, to some extent, the character too, for those children had been a never-failing topic of conversation between Mr. Archer and herself during their long journey from India. "And now we have only our object lesson," said Miss Archer, as she took her place at the head of her little class. " Come, let me see what you have brought to-day." Lena's offering. 69 "It was my turn to choose, Aunt Ellen/' said the youngest child ; " it's Saturday, you know." " So it is, Johnny. Lena," and Miss Archer turned to her little guest, " the children take turns in choosing the subject of the lesson. Mary, being the eldest, has her choice on Monday, Harry on Tuesday, and so we go on till we get to Johnny and Saturday. Now, then, what have you brought us 1 " There was a hearty chorus of laughter as the little fellow, after a good deal of fumbling in the depths of his pocket, suddenly produced a lump of sugar. "A capital subject for a lesson, Johnny," said Miss Archer. "Harry,* pass it up." The piece of sugar was placed before Miss Archer, and then followed between teacher and pupils a rapid interchange of question and answer. Lena listened with eager attention, but did not quite know whether they were in fun or earnest. Now and then a question was addressed to her, but, fortunately, whenever she hesitated so many voices were raised to answer it, that her ignorance respecting the antecedents of the lump of sugar passed unnoticed. However, before the lesson was over she had heard the whole history of it, from its first existence in the tall Indian cane, to its last adven- tures at the hands of the London sugar-bakers. " Now, children," said Miss Archer, rising, " you may get ready for your walk. And Johnny, here is your lump of sugar." " May I eat it, aunt ? " " Yes ; I am glad you had the self-denial to keep it all the morning untouched in your pocket." 70 Lena's offering. As soon as the children were gone, Miss Archer turned to Lena and asked her how she had liked the object lesson. "It was like play," answered Lena. " Well, I am glad yon thonght it pleasant. I always find it necessary to have it after everything else is finished, as we are apt to get a little riotous over it. But why did you say the lesson was like play, Lena 1 Don't you often find work quite as pleasant as play 1 " " ISTo, never," answered Lena bluntly, "I don't like it." Miss Archer looked gravely at her, but seeing that she looked more careworn than sullen or idle, she said kindly, " Perhaps it has never been made pleasant to you, dear." Before going out, Lena was taken into the drawing- room to see Mrs. Archer — a grave, delicate-looking lady, of whom she felt at first rather in awe ; and then the little party started on their ramble. Just beyond the village of Fennerton there was a wide, pleasant heath, over which Master Tom was very fond of careering on his pony, but which Lena had only seen occasionally from the carriage window. She was very glad when she found the walk was to lie in that direction, and kept on happily at Miss Archer's side. A pause was made at -more than one cottage door as they passed through the village, to inquire after an old person or sick child, and leave some little dainty that had been entrusted, so far, to Johnny's care. At last the heath was reached, and the little Archers scampered off in all directions, leaving Miss Archer and Lena to follow more leisurely. Lena's offeeing. 71 "And now tell me what was troubling yon this morning, Lena," said Miss Archer. " Oh, it was Tom," murmured Lena. " Why, what was he teasing you about 1 " " Oh don't ask me Miss Archer, please ; I would so much rather not say." "I am sorry for that, Lena," said Miss Archer, gravely. " H*Oj no, I don't mean that I have been naughtier than usual — I shouldn't mind telling you of that ; but it was some things Tom said that I would rather not repeat." " Oh, is that all ? well, we'll let them pass. They were very provoking speeches, I dare say, but I hope you tried to take them patiently." " At first I did, but he got worse and worse ; " and, after some hesitation, Lena recounted all that had passed between herself and Tom that morning, adding that " she knew his assertions were all stories, and had told him so." " But you knew nothing of the kind, dear ; so it was very foolish and wrong to contradict. Tom was quite right, I do work in my garden, and very hard, sometimes." " Do you ? we thought ladies never did such things % " " Why not 1 Do you and Tom fancy that they ought to sit in their drawing-rooms all day and receive com- pany 1 That is a great mistake, Lena ; some ladies are obliged to work very hard indeed. It is easy to be idle and useless, you know." 72 Lena's offering.