Part 2 (2/2)
Consider a minute. Have you ever been very unhappy when you have been good?”
”No,” said Edith.
”I have,” said Mabel, ”when I've had the teethache.”
Miss Rose laughed.
”Well, that was a pretty good cause; but generally, when children are not naughty, they are happy. You would only vex your dear mamma, and make her feel badly, if you were moping and fretting here, where she sent you to be with your auntie. Then you would spoil auntie's pleasure if, instead of laughing and singing, you were crying and sitting in the corner. She would say, 'O dear, what queer children these are! I'll be glad when they're gone away.'”
”That would be dreadful! to have Aunt Maria think that,” said Edith.
”But tell us your opinion about it.”
”My opinion is, that it is every one's duty to be as cheerful as he can be all the time. If things vex us and trouble us, let us say, 'Never mind.' If it rains to-day, it will be clear to-morrow. If we pray to our Father, about everything, we will never need to be sorrowful long.”
Then Miss Rose taught them a pretty little verse:
”Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you.”
Kneeling that night by her little white bed, Edith said her prayers as usual, and then added another pet.i.tion:
”Dear Lord Jesus, make me happy every night and day, so that I shall love everybody, and everybody love me.”
Edith was already one of those children whose lives are like ”a little light, within the world to s.h.i.+ne.”
CHAPTER IV.
CHERRIES ARE RIPE.
Faster and faster flew the May days by, and all the world was beautiful.
The strawberries grew red and sweet upon the vines, and the children went out with the pickers to gather them, but they didn't work very steadily at this, for the sun was hot, and picking berries is apt to make the back ache. But the cherries most delighted them, and when Aunt Maria told them that they could have just as many cherries to eat as they wanted, and gave them one tree all to themselves, they hardly knew how to express their joy. It was not only in eating the cherries, that they had pleasure, for Aunt Maria let them have a tea-party, and said they might choose their guests.
”They don't know anybody but the Lesters and the Randolphs,” she said complacently to Miss Rose.
”I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Edith and Johnnie invited a lot of little ragam.u.f.fins from Wood's Alley,” replied Miss Rose.
Wood's Alley was one of those wretched neighborhoods, which in cities have a way of setting themselves down near rich people's doors. It was the short cut to Main street, and when the people near Aunt Maria's were in haste, they often took it, rather than go a long way round. The windows in Wood's Alley were broken and dingy, and the interiors--which means all you could see as you pa.s.sed by, looking at open doors--were dirty, smoky, and uninviting. Children fairly swarmed there, black and white, and as ragged as they could be. Mabel had made Aunt Maria very angry one day, by taking off her best hat, and giving it to a little beggar girl from Wood's Alley, who had been lingering near the gate, and casting admiring looks at it.
”She ought to have known better than to take it from you,” Aunt Maria said. ”She is nothing but a little thief, and you are a very improvident child. To-morrow I'll take you to church in your old hat.”
This did not trouble Mabel much. Mabel did not yet care enough for her clothes, and more than once she had given her things away before. Her mother had been trying to teach her discretion in giving, for some time.
”Well, Rose,” said Aunt Maria, ”if I thought they would do that, I would tell them to have a picnic out-doors, for I don't want Wood's Alley in my dining-room. Those children are just as like their mother as they can be.”
”Auntie,” said Johnnie, ”there's a splendid boy named Jim Cutts. He's been fis.h.i.+ng with Charlie and me. Can he come to the party?”
”Jim Cutts!” echoed Mrs. MacLain with a sigh. Then she answered,
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