Part 28 (2/2)

'Yes, Dame Greenwood tells us that story.'

'Well, Phyl, I think you show very good taste in liking the scene between Orlando and Adam.'

'I am glad you like it, too, Claude. But I will tell you what I like best,' exclaimed the little girl, springing up, 'I do like it, when Orlando killed the lioness and the snake,--and saved Oliver; how glad he must have been.'

'Glad to have done good to his enemy,' said Claude; 'yes, indeed.'

'His enemy! he was his brother, you know. I meant it must be so very nice to save anybody--don't you think so, Claude?'

'Certainly.'

'Claude, do you know there is nothing I wish so much as to save somebody's life. It was very nice to save the dragon-fly; and it is very nice to let flies out of spiders' webs, only they always have their legs and wings torn, and look miserable; and it was very nice to put the poor little thrushes back into their nest when they tumbled out, and then to see their mother come to feed them; and it was very pleasant to help the poor goose that had put its head through the pales, and could not get it back. Mrs. Harrington said it would have been strangled if I had not helped it. That was very nice, but how delightful it would be to save some real human person's life.'

Claude did not laugh at the odd medley in her speech, but answered, 'Well, those little things train you in readiness and kindness.'

'Will they?' said Phyllis, pressing on to express what had long been her earnest wish. 'If I could but save some one, I should not mind being killed myself--I think not--I hope it is not naughty to say so.

I believe there is something in the Bible about it, about laying down one's life for one's friend.'

'There is, Phyl, and I quite agree with you; it must be a great blessing to have saved some one.'

'And little girls have sometimes done it, Claude. I know a story of one who saved her little brother from drowning, and another waked the people when the house was on fire. And when I was at Broomhill, Marianne showed me a story of a young lady who helped to save the Prince, that Prince Charlie that Miss Weston sings about. I wish the Prince of Wales would get into some misfortune--I should like to save him.'

'I do not quite echo that loyal wish,' said Claude.

'Well, but, Claude, Redgie wishes for a rebellion, like Sir Maurice's, for he says all the boys at his school would be one regiment, in green velvet coats, and white feathers in their hats.'

'Indeed! and Redgie to be Field Marshal?'

'No, he is to be Sir Reginald Mohun, a Knight of the Garter, and to ask the Queen to give William back the t.i.tle of Baron of Beechcroft, and make papa a Duke.'

'Well done! he is to take good care of the interests of the family.'

'But it is not that that I should care about,' said Phyllis. 'I should like it better for the feeling in one's own self; I think all that fuss would rather spoil it--don't you, Claude?'

'Indeed, I do; but Phyllis, if you only wish for that feeling, you need not look for dangers or rebellions to gain it.'

'Oh! you mean the feeling that very good people indeed have--people like Harry--but that I shall never be.'

'I hope you mean to try, though.'

'I do try; I wish I was as good as Ada, but I am so naughty and so noisy that I do not know what to do. Every day when I say my prayers I think about being quiet, and not idling at my lessons, and sometimes I do stop in time, and behave better, but sometimes I forget, and I do not mind what I am about, and my voice gets loud, and I let the things tumble down and make a noise, and so it was yesterday.' Here she looked much disposed to cry.

'No, no, we will not have any crying this evening,' said Claude. 'I do not think you did me much mischief, my head ached just as much before.'

'That was a thing I wanted to ask you about: William says my crying loud is all habit, and that I must cure myself of it. How does he mean? Ought I to cry every day to practise doing it without roaring?'

'Do you like to begin,' said Claude, laughing; 'shall I beat you or pinch you?'

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