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CHAPTER V
MATILDA'S CONSCIENCE

MATILDA did not make her appearance in the grove. Her father was so angry at her tardiness in bringing the ham for his dinner that he forbade her the pleasure. She passed the afternoon in a very unhappy state of mind, continually quarrelling with her brothers and sisters, and stirring up strife in the whole household.

From her chamber window she saw Hatty and Sallie walk on, arm in arm, swinging their baskets; and conscience whispered, – "They will talk of you, and you have no one but yourself to blame for all your wretchedness."

Disgusted with herself, she still sat gazing from the window, when serious thoughts began to arise.

"Why can't I be happy?" she asked herself. "I have a better home than either of those girls. That is, the rooms look better, and father has more money. But things never go right. Mother always wants errands done so quick; and father gets angry and cross; and the boys are so touchy," —

"And Matilda, the eldest daughter is worse than all the rest; for she might be a help to her mother, a comfort to her father, and an example of love and peace to the whole family."

This was what conscience said; and conscience this time was determined to be heard.

"You hate yourself now," the inward monitor went on, "but not so badly as you will by and by. Every day that you indulge in these evil passions, you will grow worse and worse. Try to reform. Begin to-day, and take this verse for your motto: 'If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.'"

"That is Hatty's rule," exclaimed Matilda, starting from her seat. "I'll try it. I'm sorry now, I told Sallie that Cynthia didn't like her dress. I'm afraid there'll be a fuss about that. Sallie wont speak; and her cousin will find out what I said, and then the blame will all come on me."

"Where it belongs," urged conscience again.

"Well, I'll never tell tales again; that is, if I can help it. I mean to try and be like Hatty. Father and mother will wonder what has come over me; I wish I knew what I ought to do first."

Already she felt happier than for a long time. She ran down to the sink, bathed her face and eyes; then back to her room and combed her hair, confining it in her net, after which she joined her mother in the sitting-room.

"Where's that little apron," she began, "that you cut out yesterday? I'm going to make it."

Mrs. Manning glanced up from her work in surprise. "What has happened?" she asked herself; but she smilingly directed her daughter where she might find the apron.

Before her needle was threaded, baby Tom fell from the steps and began to scream with all his might.

Mrs. Manning started up, letting her sewing fall to the floor. "I sha'n't sew a stitch at this rate," began Matilda impatiently; but recovering herself, she exclaimed, —

"Come here, Tommy. I'll show you the bossy;" and they trotted off together to the barn.

The other boys were there playing in the hay, and at any other time Matilda would have begun to quarrel directly; but with her good resolves fresh in mind she began to coax them to come off the hay, and show her how to make bossy stand on his feet.

Her tone was so pleasant that they came at once, wondering at the change; and for the next half hour they had a merry time together.

Then she returned to the house with the baby mounted on her back.

When her father came home to supper, he evidently expected to find her cross and impatient at having been kept from accompanying her companions to the grove. He heard her singing before he reached the gate, and was not a little delighted to find his wife sitting at her sewing, and Matilda putting the last dishes on the table for tea.

"Well, now, this is as it ought to be," he said heartily, as they drew their chairs about the table. "Wife, you said you wanted a new gown, and here's money to buy cloth for you and Matilda, too. I'm always ready with the cash for good daughters."

A few hours later, when the young girl retired to her bed, she said to herself, – "It isn't so very hard to do right after all. How pleased father was. Now if I only knew that Sallie wouldn't say anything about what I told her, I should be happier than I have been for a month."

I wish Hatty had been there to remind her that she ought to thank her heavenly Father for help to keep her resolutions, else she could not have done one right thing. As it was, Hatty was giving uncle Oliver and Esther an account of her call at Mrs. Munson's; and they were thinking, – "What a blessing our dear girl is to us, and how lonely our cottage would be without her."

The nuts, a peck of each, were safely stored in the attic to dry, before the old man came home to supper; and then Hatty had time to run to a neighbor's with the vest Esther had just completed.

In the evening they had family-prayers, a service the two girls commenced by themselves, but which uncle Oliver soon joined; and then after Hatty's account of her afternoon, they retired to rest for the night, the blessing which God has promised the peace-makers resting upon them.

CHAPTER VI
THE QUARREL SETTLED

IT was scarcely a week after the nutting party, when one morning Sallie was missing from school. This was so unusual that the teacher inquired of the scholars whether any of them knew why she was not in her place.

But no one had seen her that day; and as her brother Edward was also absent, nothing could be ascertained till night.

When the teacher called, she found the family of Mrs. Munson greatly afflicted. Three of the children were in bed with fever, and the widow was scarcely able to drag herself about.

"I've had trouble on trouble," she said, sighing. "Month after month, for five long years, I've stood at the door where I could see the ocean, and watched for the ship that never came. I've laid one child beneath the sod, and now it's likely three more will follow. Still I can say, – 'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.'"

At school, both Edward and Sallie were greatly missed, the first question in the morning being: "Have you heard from Mrs. Munson's? Is Sallie better?"

Hatty went about her studies with a sad countenance. She was much afraid that her friend would die without having given her heart to the Saviour.

One day, when she was going home from school, she passed two boys who were quarrelling terribly about a book one of them had lost.

The young girl lingered near them for a few moments, wishing, yet scarcely daring to speak. At last she said, —

"Oh Ethel! how can you quarrel when one of your companions is so very sick? Think if you were to be taken down with the fever, how sorry you would be that you had called any one such hard names."

The boy hung his head, somewhat ashamed, but then said, —

"It's too bad to lose a new book. I'm sure Bill took it home with him."

"I didn't. I haven't seen it since Ethel showed it to me at recess. I don't see why he need to lay it to me."

"At recess?" murmured Ethel. "Oh dear! Bill, wait a minute."

He was off without a word, and in ten minutes more he came running at full speed, shouting, —

"I've found it. Here 'tis, all safe. I left it on the rock when we were playing ball."

"And now you're sorry you charged Bill with carrying it home," exclaimed Hatty, eagerly.

"Yes, I am. As soon as he spoke about recess I thought where I laid it."

"Don't you think it would be a good plan to ask him to forgive you?" inquired the little peace-maker, drawing him aside.

He made a wry face and hesitated.

"You know, you said some awful hard things," she urged. "I thought then he was pretty good-tempered not to take offense."

She looked in his face so eagerly that he laughed outright.