Part 14 (2/2)
”Abby Clayton,” he broke out, ”you are always meddling! Why can't you let things that don't belong to you alone?”'
A storm of reproaches would no doubt have followed, but just then his angry glance turned toward the statue. There stood the image of Our Lady, so meek and beautiful and mild. And there, in a tiny frame at the front of the altar, hung father Dominic's words of advice: ”Try every day to do some little thing to honor our Blessed Mother.”
Larry paused suddenly; for his indignation almost choked him. But in that moment of silence he had time to reflect. What should he do to-day to honor the Blessed Virgin, now that his little vase was broken? He looked again at the statue. The very sight of the sweet face suggested gentler thoughts, and counselled kindness, meekness, and forbearance.
”Well, Abby,” he blurted out, ”I suppose I'll have to forgive you; but, oh, how I wish I were only six years old, so that I could cry!”
So saying, Larry laid the b.u.t.tercups at the feet of Our Lady's statue, and rushed from the room.
The next day it happened that Ellen discovered Abby in tears at the window of the cla.s.s-room. Ellen, although quick-tempered and impulsive, was kind-hearted.
”What is the trouble now, child?” she asked, gently, taking Abby's hand in hers.
”Oh,” sobbed Abby, ”I feel so dreadfully to think that you and Marion don't speak to each other! And it's all my fault; because from something I said to Marion she thought that, instead of taking one among ourselves, it would be much nicer to choose the Blessed Virgin for our May-Queen.”
”And was that Marion Gaines' plan?” asked Ellen, in surprise.
”Why, yes! But surely she must have told you!” said the little girl.
”I see now that she tried to,” replied Ellen, with a sigh at her own impetuosity. ”But I was too vexed to listen. I did not really understand before. Dry your tears, Abby; I'll do my best to make amends now. How foolish I've been!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as Abby ran off in gay spirits. ”And how I must have disedified the other girls! I must try to make up for it.”
She found the verses she had written; and, on looking them over, concluded that, after all, they needed only the change of a few words here and there. Then she wrote a little note to Marion, as follows:
”DEAR MARION:--I did not realize until today what you wanted to do about the May piece. If my verses would be of any use at this late hour, you are welcome to them. I should like to do all I can to help now, to make up for lost time.”
”ELLEN.”
Marion gladly accepted the overtures of peace. The May drama was duly finished, the rehearsals went on smoothly, and on the last day of the Month of Mary the performance took place.
It had been rumored in the school that Abby was not to be Queen, and there was much speculation as to which of the little girls had been selected instead. As the drama progressed, and the plan was unfolded, the audience was taken completely by surprise. Everyone had been eager to see the May-Queen; but there was a general murmur of appreciation when, at the close, the curtain rose upon a beautiful tableau; a shrine glittering with many lights, in the midst of which was enthroned a lovely image of Our Lady, at whose feet the children laid their crowns of flowers--a crown to honor each transcendent virtue,--and paid their homage to their beautiful Queen of May.
A few days later Father Dominic called at the Claytons.
”Well, children,” he asked, incidentally, ”have you done anything to please the Blessed Virgin during the past month?”
Abby and Larry were silent, but their mother kindly answered:
”I think they have tried, Father Dominic. And as for your lovely May-Day gift, the presence of the statue seems to have drawn down a blessing upon the house.”
TILDEREE.
I.
Quite happy indeed was the home of Tilderee Prentiss, though it was only a rough log house on a ranch, away out in Indian Territory. Her father was employed by the owner of the ranch. He had, however, a small tract of land for himself, and owned three horses and several cows. Her mother's duties included the management of a small dairy and poultry yard, the products of which were readily sold at the military post some miles distant.
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