6D OF*me-I4--ZO z ., .."*'" 4',B- 1.U
The Baldwin LibraryUniversityofQm(Bu~ouida
---- ------ ------~--y) 2-4i~*'-ID-
ROSE AND MILLIE.BY THE AUTHOR OF"'HESTER'S HAPPY SUMMER"Dostonm:publishedd by 0. J2othrop & Co.(over, .N. H.: G. T. Day & Co.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872,BY D. LOTHROP & CO.,In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS.CHAPTER I. PAGEFAIRBANK.-THE FIRST DAY OF MILLIE'S VISIT.-LETTINGTHE RAMS OUT, 5CHAPTER II.A HIDING-PLACE.-SSTRAWBERRYING.-A- SHOWER, 19CHAPTER III.MADAME LANOIR'S COTTAGE.-KITTY GAY.-MILLIE'S RE-TURN HOME, 31CHAPTER IV.ROSE AT HOME.-LISETTE'S FLOWERS.-ROSE'S HYACINTHS, 50CHAPTER V.MILLIE'S HOME.-THE FIRE.-A VISIT TO MAXWELL PARK, 68CHAPTER VI.MILLIE AT CHURCH AND SUNDAY SCHOOL.-MISS WEST'STEMPTATION.-SUNDAY EVENING, 84CHAPTER VII.MARRIED IN HASTE.-HOVW MRS. SWAN TOLD THE CHIL-DREN ABOUT IT.-MISS FENNELHURST, 102CHAPTER VIII.A NEW PLAN.--LEAVING HOME.-THE GIRLS AT BOARDING SCHOOL, 1193
Contents.CHAPTER IX. PAGETHE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL.-CLARA WEBB'S STORY.-"ELLA EARLE, " THE GENIUS," 132CHAPTER X.HOME-LETTERS.-ROSE TO HER PARENTS.-MILLIE TO HERMOTHER, 148CHAPTER XI.MILLIE TO AUNT MARIA.-MILLIE TO THE BOYS.-ROSE TOHER MOTHER, 163CHAPTER XII.ELLA EARLE'S "ENLIGHTENMENT."-THE SPRAINED WRIST.--THE MOST AMIABLE, 178CHAPTER XIII.GOING HOME.-MRS. CALDWELL;-THE GIRLS' RETURN TOSCHOOL, 197CHAPTER XIV.ROWING ON THE POND.-FLORAL TREASURES.-A SHOWER, 213CHAPTER XV.THE HERBARIUM PRIZE.-THE MIDSUMMER PRIZES.-ATHOME, 233CHAPTER XVI.MILLIE A TEACHER.-GLIMPSES AT THE AFTER-LIVES OFSEVERAL FRIENDS, AND OF ROSE AND MILLIE, 248
ROSE AND MILLIE.CHAPTER I.FAIRBANK.-THE FIRST DAY OF MILLIE' TISIT.-LETTING THE RAMS OUT.FAIRBANK, Rose Wilder's home, was apleasant place. From its windows and broadpiazza could be seen one of the finest viewsin the world, grand mountains, broad river,and queenly city. Its green lawn, its bril-liant flower-beds, and its tall summer-housesof rustic-work, were beautiful; and still morecharming were the winding brook, the hillsand dells of the broad lands behind thehouse, and belonging to it.*
6 Rose and Millie.One day, Rose was sitting on the piazzain her willow rocking-chair, busily sewing,for it was the delight of her life to sitdown "like a little woman," as her mothersaid, and sew. Her mother was sitting be-side her, sewing too. "Rose," she said,"I've invited Millie Swan to spend a fewdays here with you.""Have you, mother?" said Rose. "I amvery glad, only I do wish she were not sucha little book-worm.""My dear, you must let your little friendsenjoy themselves in their own way, whenthey come to see you, you know."But Rose's idea of having company wasto wear her best dress every afternoon, andsit in the parlor instead of the sitting-room,and sew and chat like a grown-up lady. Youmust know that Rose had never had anybrothers or sisters to play with and to giveup her way to; and she had always had
Fairbank. 7a governess to give her lessons at home,instead of going to school; and so, beingof a precise and orderly nature, she was alittle old woman at twelve years old, in-stead of being an active and lively child."I know what I'll do," she said to her-self; "I'll hide away the purple book UncleJohn gave me last Christmas, under mybest shawl in my lower drawer, where shecannot find it, and I'll hide mother's greenbook behind the book-case, and I don't be-lieve she will care about the rest of thebooks, because they are all old."For Rose cared so little about what wasin the books, that she only distinguishedbetween her "Amy Herbert," which she hadnever read, and "Mrs. Hemans' Poems," bythe color of their bindings.Millie Swan was ten years old, the eldestof four children, and a wilful little girl,who wanted her own way, but was not in
8 Rose and Millie.the habit of finding it constantly consultedby her parents, as Rose's was, and was obligedto yield it very often to her imperious littlebrothers, and, in fact, to every one else athome. She was looking forward with eager-ness to the time of her visit, as happy daysin which, as a guest, she should be allowedto do just as she liked.The next morning she arrived, and Rosewas very happy with her for a few hours,showing her her baby-house and all herpretty things. For though Rose did notcare much about playing with her dolls,she was fond of providing them with manyclothes, of which their trunk and bureauwere full. Rose had a whole room-full ofplaythings, and was always glad to displaythem to her visitors, if only they wouldbe content with looking and admiring! Butthe worst of it was, they always wantedto stay and play with her toys, and then
Fairbank. 9they were so likely to get disarranged orbroken!Millie was particularly delighted with acollection of curiosities, a present to Rosefrom her Uncle John, put up nicely inpink cotton, in a show-case with a glasslid."0, let me see!" cried Millie, rushingup to it eagerly. "What a lot of prettythings, and so curious! What's that?'""The bones of a little bird's head; don'tyou see its long bill? You mustn't open thecase, Millie.""But I do want to see this cunning littletiny nest and eggs!""That's a humming-bird's nest. You willbreak the eggs if you open the case. Youcan see just as well through the glass. Youmustn't touch them."" 0, but it wouldn't hurt those lovelyshells to take them in my hand. Just let
zo Rose and Millie.me take up one of those dear little redshells! I want to see it all over!""No," said Rose, "they would get intothe wrong places, and 1 don't want themdisturbed."Millie turned away, mentally resolving tocome in and examine them all to her heart'scontent some day when Rose was not there.I am sorry to say she did it too, and wasso unfortunate as to crack the ugly egg ofa snake on that occasion. She laid itcracked side down, and as Rose was con-tent with looking at her treasures throughthe glass, she never discovered the crack.But Millie and the snake's egg knew it,and they never had any comfort togetherafter, for every time she looked at thecase or thought of it, the ugly egg was sureto remind her of her misdeed.But to return to the first day of Millie'svisit. After dinner she said, "0 Rose, let's
Fairbank. Igo out into the garden, and down to thebrook, and see if we can catch a fish!"But Rose answered, "It's a great dealtoo hot to go out, and the sun frecklespeople so!"Millie looked at her brown face in themirror opposite, and blushed a little. Shehad not noticed before how much fairerRose was." What shall we do then ?" asked Millie."I'm going to make a black silk mantillafor my doll. Didn't you bring any work?Mother can give you a handkerchief orsomething to hem.""0, I don't want to sew! I hate sew-ing!" cried Millie. "Let me take the dolland her bed and her bureau down stairsand play with them.""No," said Rose, "they belong up here."Millie was just going to say somethingcross, when she remembered her mother's
12 Rose and Millie.parting injunctions, to be a good girl, tobe very polite, and to do as she was told.So she went quietly down stairs, and whileRose was looking for her silk, Millie wassearching the book-case for something toread. The books were prettily bound, butlooked very uninteresting to Millie, for theywere mostly Sermons, and Lectures, andLives of good people. But on the topshelf was a little one which looked inviting,and she was sitting on the floor by the,window, reading, when Rose entered."You little book-worm!" she cried, set-ting down her work-box, and coming up toMillie and taking the book away. "Sit upin the chair, and keep me company."" 0 dear me! it isn't nice to be com-pany!" Millie thought, but she said noth-ing. She sat down in the chair by thecenter-table, and took up the card-case,and the flower-vase, and the paper-folder,
Fairbank. 13and the Chinese fan, and the Bible, one byone. Mrs. Wilder came in, and seeing thatthe child wanted something to do, shelooked round for the handsome volume ofpoems which usually lay there."Rose," she said, "where is the bookwhich belongs on this table? Millie mightlike to look at it.""Why, mother, I put it away, because Idon't want her to be reading all the time.I want her to keep me company.""Get it, my dear. You must not be self-ish. You must entertain your friend, andnot expect her to entertain you. Bring thebook, my daughter."Rose felt a little ashamed, as she broughtthe book out of its hiding-place, and put itinto the hands of the delighted Millie, whowas soon lost in the stories of "Bernardo delCarpio," and "The Sicilian Captive," andmany another musical poem, and saw and
14 Rose and Millie.heard nothing around her, till Mrs. Wilderproposed that Rose should take her out towalk. Millie joyfully rose to go, for thoughshe could enjoy a book, she was still fonderof out-door exercise and hearty play.Rose showed her the duck-house, the barn,the great dog Lion chained to his kennel,the brook, and the sunny slopes where wildstrawberries grew. And after tea therewas the garden to explore, winding walks,and flower-beds, and summer-houses."Here is the rabbit warren," said Rose,leading Millie to a gate, through which wasto be seen a green field with a close fenceall around it."Where are the rabbits? 0, I want tosee the dear little things. Where is theirhouse ?""They have no house, they live in holesall over the field. See, there's one going"in! and yonder are two or three. I won-
+2. ~~~ ~r~-~r- -. ---'~~-- '- -- -"" -- ,i- --~~ _=--e.r --=Z2Z1-141- -=S--.- _, -- -- .-_--- ... .':E tk\ NM""~'" ,"""- "?I-= __.--L -~t:: ....T-E_- -'- ----- t-.--- , I..~ .~-~~li_ ,_.,.-__;- .- .,- ----. .- _;tk- Z-M-- A"Th first dyaii n. ge1*q~ ~ _i j- :___________ ~_~~~~~ _~~~--he ir da a-ib ag- N ='..VTher first- da atFibn.Pg 5
This page contains no text.
Fairbank. 15der where the rams are. 0, I see them, inthe farthest corner.""Let me see! let me see!" cried Millie,who did not know but a ram was as curiousan animal as a camel or a kangaroo. "Inever saw a ram in my life.""Come in then," said Rose, opening thegate, and closing it carefully after them.There they come!""Won't they hurt us ?" asked Millie,more alarmed than pleased, as the hornedcreatures came rapidly towards them."Yes," said Rose, "they butt at peopleand knock them down, and trample onthem. I didn't think they would comethis way. Let us go."And they ran back towards the gate.Rose reached it, and not till she was safein the garden again, did she see that Mil-lie's foot had caught in a rabbit's burrow,and she had tripped and fallen.
16 Rose and Millie."0 Rose, help me!" she cried.But the rams were near, and Rose wasafraid. "I cannot," she said. "If I openedthe gate, the rams would get into thegarden, and father would be so angry."Millie had almost reached the gate, whenthe rams, two large, strong, woolly creatures,pushed by her, as desirous as she was, ofgetting into the garden. There wasn't athought in their curly heads of doing anymischief to Millie, but she would hardlyhave been more afraid if they had been twolions."Take care, Millie! they will knock youdown! Why didn't you come out when Idid, you silly child! No, you cannot climbthe fence, the rams would horn you.""What shall I do ? what shall I do?"screamed Millie."I don't know. Push the rams away.Can't you find a stick?"
Fairbank. 17Millie tried to come at the gate, and therams, thinking she was going to open itaiid let them out, willingly made room forher, and then crowded up close to her."No, you mustn't open the gate, Millie!you mustn't! you will let the rams in!"But terror, like necessity, knows no law.Millie did open the gate, and found it im-possible to close it again against the push-ing force of her rejoicing enemies. Milliewas safe, but the rams were in the garden!Then for the first time did it enter Rose'shead to call her father. He came running.Millie heard him say loudly, "Who letthose rams out?" and, not waiting to hearthe answer, or to see the rams driven back,she flew across the garden and darted intothe house, with no other thought than tohide in the darkest corner she could find.But Mrs. Wilder met her in the hall."Why, my dear child," she said, "what is2
18 Rose and Millie.the matter?" After hearing the story of therams' escape, broken as it was with sobs,half of terror and half of contrition, Mrs.Wilder soothed the child, and led her intothe garden in search of Rose. They foundall the damage repaired. Mr. Wilder wasraking smooth the gravel walk, disturbed byhoofs, and Rose was looking through thegate at the disappointed rams."Rose, my daughter," said Mrs. Wilder,"you must not lead your visitor where youcannot take care of her. Now come, let usgo and see the peacocks."When the peacocks had retired for thenight, the children played in the garden tillthe long summer twilight had faded away,and then they were glad to go to rest. Sotranquilly, after all, ended Millie's first dayat Fairbank.
CHAPTER II.A HIDING-PLACE.-STRAWBERRYING.--A SHOWER.BRIGHT and warm arose the summer morn-ing, and after breakfast the children fed thechickens, put fresh seed in the bird-cages,brought in flowers from the garden, andhelped Mrs. Wilder arrange them in vases.Then when everything was in order for theday, the old question arose, "What to donext?" to which Rose had only the sameanswer to give, "I am going to sew, andyou must sit here on the piazza and sewtoo."But when Rose had brought out herwork-box and her little rocking-chair, Milliewas nowhere to be found. Rose called andlooked for her in vain. She had taken the'9
20 Rose and Millie.little book which Rose had snatched fromher the day before, and seeing a door open-ing out of the parlor ajar, she had enteredboldly and shut the door behind her. Shefound herself in a handsome room, a com-pany bed-chamber, with a large, old-fash-ioned, high-posted bedstead, hung withcurtains of damask and lace. The project-ing ornaments of its cornice made it neces-sary for it to stand out a little way fromthe wall, leaving a safe hiding-place forMillie. Here, concealed by the curtains, shestood and read, "The Flowers of theForest," a charming little French story.When she had finished it, she came out ofher hiding-place, softly opened the casement,and stepped out upon the piazza. Shecould hear Rose singing at the other sideof the house. She slid down the grassybanking, and sauntered, bare-headed, throughthe sunny garden, till Rose caught sight of
A Hiding-place. 21her and called her in, and tried to drawfrom her the secret of where she had been.But Millie thought she might want thatsecure place of refuge again; so she wouldnot tell, but only laughed, and held up herbook, saying, "I've been with the Flowersin the Forest.""Have you been reading all this dreadfullong time ?" asked Rose. "There's thedinner-bell !""Why not?" returned Millie. "Have youbeen sewing 'all this dreadful long time?'"After dinner, Millie proposed half a dozenoccupations, all of which Rose declined. "Iwas sewing for work this morning," shesaid. "I hemmed a whole table-cloth; andnow I'm going to sew for play, and finish mydoll's mantilla."So Millie took a handkerchief which Rosehad ready for her, and with many a long-drawn sigh, sat down to sew too. But the
22 Rose and Millie.needle was blunt, and the thread knotted,and Millie's hands were warm and damp,and every stitch went against her inclina-tion. So she soon gave it up."Rose," she said, in sudden desperation,"I'm going to Strawberry Hill.""0 no, you cannot. It's too warm andsunny, and the strawberries are almost gone.Besides, I shall not go, and mother will notlike it if you go away off there alone.""I must go," cried Millie. "I want to beout-doors, and I'm so tired of sewing."And she went, while Rose sat still andtrimmed her doll's mantilla. Both the chil-dren felt a little uneasy."Mother," said Rose, as soon as Mrs.Wilder came into the room, "what do youthink? Millie's gone off to the hill forstrawberries!""Why didn't you go with her, my dear?She will find it very tiresome out therealone."
A Hidzing-p lace. 23"Why, mother, it's too hot. I hate tobe gathering berries out in the sun. Besides,I am just finishing this mantilla."Mrs. Wilder went out into the kitchen.A little girl was just going out of the backdoor. "Lisette," said Mrs. Wilder to herin French, "a little lady who is visitinghere, has gone to the hill beyond the brookfor strawberries. Take her this little basket,and stay and help her.""Yes, madam," said Lisette, with a cour-tesy. She took the little basket, and wentacross the barn-yard, and down the field,and over the swaying plank which servedas bridge on that unfrequented path. Milliewas sitting close up to a stunted fir tree,which did not cast shadow enough to coverher, fanning herself with her hat, when shesaw Lisette coming up the hill, her broadbrimmed hat flapping as she walked. Feel-ing a little shy, Millie rose and was going
24 Rose and Millie.away from the stranger, when Lisette calledafter her, "Mademoiselle, wait, s'il vousplait! Mademoiselle, please wait!" ThenMillie turned, and stood still till the pant-ing Lisette had climbed the hill. "0 Made-moiselle, it is so warm!" she cried."Madame have sent me. Behold a basketfor your strawberries. We will rest. Afterwe will gather berries, if it please you.""Thank .you," said Millie, beginning tofeel rather ashamed of her self-willed deter-mination to go strawberrying. "I did notknow it was so warm when I came out."After a little pause she asked, "Do you livehere ?""Not far from the house of Madame," re-plied Lisette. "My mother do wash andiron the muslins and laces for Madame. Iam called Lisette Lanoir. Madame havesent me to accompany you, Mademoiselle,and to aid you gather strawberries."
A Hiding-place. 25Millie would have been very glad to giveup the search for berries at once, had shenot been afraid Rose would laugh at her;but she thought a good basket-full would ina measure justify her expedition, and so sheand Lisette went diligently to work search-ing for the little bright wild berries, whichhad become very scarce, it was so late inthe season. It was a relief when a cloudcovered the sun, and a little breath of coolair came across the warm grass.But presently Lisette exclaimed, "Made-moiselle! do you not fear it will rain?Shall we not return to the house?"Then for the first time Millie noticed theblackness of the great cloud whose coolshadow had been so welcome. A distantflash of lightning, and a long, low mutter-ing of thunder confirmed their fears, andthe children ran down the long slope of thehill towards the brook. But the rain over-
26 Rose and Millie.took them, its large heavy drops wereplashing into the water before they reachedit. Lisette ran lightly over the bendingplank, but Millie was so startled by a sud-den peal of thunder, nearer now, andsharper, that she lost her footing, andfound herself standing in the brook. It wasnot deep, it only reached up far enough towet the hem of her short dress, as shestood in it."0 Mademoiselle!" cried Lisette, "I amso sorry you did jump in the water! Giveto me your hand, if you please," and shehelped her up again upon the treacherousplank.There was not much harm done, exceptto the neat little boots, but Millie wasthoroughly mortified and vexed. After afew grumbling words, however, she wassensible enough to remember that Lisettewas not in the least to blame for her mis-
A Hiding- lace. 27hap, so she might as well be polite to her,especially as her company was a great helpto her in her trouble." We shall not reach the house," saidLisette; "it rains too hard. There is herea covert, Mademoiselle. Let us run!" andshe led her to a queer little place of shel-ter, an old cab, standing out in the openfield, its wheels, its shafts, its leather, andits shiny paint all gone, nothing left butthe wooden part, bleached white by sun andshower. It was not altogether water-tight,but it afforded considerable protection fromthe pouring rain."My little brother telled me often," saidLisette, "how he have played here, whenmy father is at work in the field. He callsthis his own house."While the rain kept them imprisoned intheir small and leaky house, Lisette showedMillie how to string her few strawberries
28 Rose and A/ilie.upon a long stalk of timothy grass, whichshe had stuck into the basket for that pur-pose. She wiped the bloomy purple dustfrom its long cylinder of blossom, whichkept the berries from slipping off the stem,as she threaded them upon it one by one.Millie thought it made them appear to betteradvantage. "It looks as if there were agreat many more than when they were inthe basket," she said."This way the Indian children bring homeberries .when there is no basket," saidLisette, "unless they can find a birch treenear by, to make a cup of bark."When the strawberries were all strung,the girls began to look out anxiously forsigns of better weather. "Look!" criedMillie, "there is some one coming with anumbrella!""It is Mr. Hugh, the coachman," saidLisette, and she stepped out into the rain
A Hiding-f lace. 29and called him, for he was passing on to-wards the house, up the little path fromthe brook. He came, bringing rubbers, um-brella, and shawl, but looking very crossand surly. "Why couldn't you tell mewhere you were when I was going, insteadof waiting till I came back?" he asked,roughly. "I've been all over the hill inthis rain. A couple of children are morebother, with their foolish nonsense, than allthe farm cattle together!"When Lisette was embarrassed, she gen-erally forgot to speak in English, so shebegan, Pardon, Monsieur! J'en suis exces-sivement fhchd! Oh! I mean I am very,very sorry, but I did not see you. I bega thousand pardons!"Hugh went away, muttering somethingabout what two pairs of eyes were goodfor. The little girls followed under theirumbrella, Millie's soaked boots hidden bythe rubbers, and her shawl concealing as
30 Rose and Millie.much as possible her wet and soiled dress.And sc she came back, crest-fallen and hum-bled, to the house. Mrs. Wilder passedover the matter lightly and kindly, to savethe feelings of her little guest. But Rosefound the wet boots and stained stockingshid away under the bed that night, and sawthe forlorn-looking dress, and did not scru-ple to give Millie "a piece of her mind."And if her whole mind was to be judgedof by that specimen, it was neither verykind nor very polite.Millie cried quietly under the bed-clothes,while Rose inflicted this curtain lecture. Shewished herself at home with all her heart,and was as miserable as her unsparing pun-'isher could have desired, until sleep folded"in the arms of her soothing rest both thelittle Pharisee and the little Publican. Sosadly ended Millie's second day at Fair-bank.
CHAPTER III.MADAME LANOIR'S COTTAGE. -KITTY GAY.-MILLIE'S RETURN HOME.MILLIE awoke early, subdued and peni-tent. "What a naughty girl I have been!"she thought. "What would mother sayif she knew I had been so troublesome?Well, I will be good to-day. I'll do justwhat Rose wants me to. I'll sew all dayif she says so; only, oh dear me! howcan she like to sit still and sew?"She was very glad when Mrs. Wildersaid to them, after they had shelled thepeas and dusted the sitting-room, "Thereis a small bundle of muslins to be done up;I wish you would take them over to MadameLanoir's for me."31
32 -Rose and Millie.It was a most beautiful morning, foreverything was glittering with the rain-drops of yesterday's heavy shower, and thelittle birds were singing as if they couldnever sing enough. As Lisette had said,it was not far. As soon as they were out-side the garden gate, they were in sight ofthe white-washed cottage, standing amongits old apple-trees. It was white all over,roof and all, and looked like a tent as itshone in the morning sun. Before the doorwas a small cart, to which was harnesseda fine large dog, which lay at his ease inthe shady road, with his tongue out.The cottage door stood open, and thechildren stepped at once into the good-sized room which served as kitchen, dining-room and parlor all in one.Madame Lanoir, a stout woman, in stifflystarched white muslin cap and dimity apron,bade them good-morning with her hands
AMadame Lanoir's Cottage. 33full of old leaden spoons, and running tothe stairs, called Lisette, who was sweepingthe bedroom. She came down smiling, *anduntying the checked handkerchief with whichshe had covered from the dust her shiningblack braids of hair. She received Mrs.Wilder's message for her mother, and re-peated it to her in French.Meanwhile, Millie was looking at a queerlittle old man who sat by the great wood-fire on the hearth. Two hooks hung downthe wide chimney, on which were suspendeda kettle and a huge pot, while in the firebeneath them was a round pan with a longhandle, held by the queer little man. Hewas sitting on a three-legged stool, smok-ing a clay pipe, and on his head, was aconical woolen cap, much like the bluecaps which adorn our liberty-poles.Madame Lanoir carried the spoons tohim. Some were bent, some broken in3
34 Rose and Aillie.two, some flattened, all were worn and tar-nished. He put them into his crucible,and. when they were melted, he poured someof the liquid metal into a sort of box whichhe took from a sack lying on the floor be-side him. The three little girls stood nearhim; watching the process with curiosity;while Madame Lanoir brought her rag-bagand weighed out the reward of the littleold man's labors. Presently he opened thebox, and there lay a bright new spoon inits mould. The children were delighted.Millie wanted to stay and see the whole setthus rejuvenated, but Rose could only bepersuaded to linger while the man madeand cooled one more, and then she hastenedhome, and Millie with her, reluctant, butdetermined not to insist upon pleasing her-self that day. Yet it was certainly a trialto go away from the funny little cottage,with the strange people, and queer foreign-
Madame Lanoir's Cottage. 35looking things in it, with nothing moreentertaining in prospect than sewing.With resolute patience, however, shehemmed one side of a handkerchief, whento her great delight, Mrs. Wilder joinedthem. Then she stole into the parlor, andbrought out her beloved Mrs. Hemans, andread, unchidden, till dinner-time.But after dinner, Millie, who usually madea hasty toilet in half the time it took herparticular little hostess to dress, was delayedby everything's going wrong. A button wasoff her dress, and must be put on, her sashwas mislaid and was not easily found, oneboot-lace broke and the other was in ahopeless knot, when Rose went down andleft her. If she had stayed to help her,it would have been better, for Millie, tiredof working at it, went with a slipper onone foot and her refractory walking-boot onthe other, into the baby-house, where she
36 Rose and Millie.made that examination of Rose's curiosities,of which we have spoken before.And after that, I am sorry to say, shemade further investigations, which resultedin the discovery of the purple book underRose's shawl in the lower drawer. And sit-ting there on the floor, she was deep in thestory of Amy Herbert," when she heardRose's step on the stairs. She hastily putthe book back in the drawer, took her scis-sors, and was cutting the knot in her boot-lace when Rose entered. "Why, how longyou have been!" she exclaimed. "Hurry!there's a little girl down stairs come to seeme, and I want you to come and play Lotowith us. Millie was ready instantly, gladto escape questioning, and to be rid of hem-ming the other side of the hated handker-chief.In the parlor she was introduced to KittyGay, a little girl of about her own age,
Madame Lanoir's Cottage. 37with merry blue eyes, and short browncurls, which would have been shaken quiteout of curl if they had not been very curlyindeed, for her head was never still. Sheblushed and looked shy when she was in-troduced, and then laughed and looked upbrightly. "I don't like introductions much,do you? It makes me feel so foolish. ButI'm glad you are here to play with us. Didshe say your name was Minnie or Millie?""Millie, short for Millicent Swan. Youwill have to show me how to play Loto,for I -don't know a word about it."Loto was played, and then Kitty said,timidly, "Rose, I should like to play inyour baby-house, so very much! Might we?Oh, do, please?""Why, you have seen it all before," saidRose."Yes, I only just saw it. It must bejust the happiest thing in the world to play
38 Rose and Millie.in it; to play night and day, and school,and party, and sick baby. 0, let us go!"" Yes, do, Rose," urged Millie.How fortunate! just then Mrs. Wilderbrought in a plate of cocoanut-drops, mac-caroons, and ginger-snaps. "I thought theselittle cakes," she said, "would be just theright size for the dolls' dishes."That settled the question. Rose took theplate of cakes up stairs, and her two de-lighted guests capered and frisked up afterher, like a couple of kids or kittens, intothe dolls' room. All the furniture was inminiature, most of the chairs being muchtoo small even for the children. All sortsof toys were arranged on shelves and tables.Dolls of all sizes were there; a stout girlin the kitchen; a tall and over-dressed ladyin the parlor, babies in the cradle, andchildren everywhere."Oh, Rose, where did you get them all?"
Madame Lanoir's Cottage. 39"The dolls? I've had one for a presentevery birthday. That's twelve."""But didn't you ever break one?""No, not so that it couldn't be mended.This one's arm was off once.""I'd like to tell you about mine," criedKitty. "I don't remember the first halfdozen or more. We picked holes in thefirst wax doll I had, to make believe shehad the small-pox, and cut off her hair tomake it grow out thicker. Afterwards wetook out her eyes, because they are suchqueer little things when they are out. Iwas tossing up the next one like a ball,and she fell and broke her head. The rainspoiled the next. Then father bought aDutch doll, so that we couldn't break it, hesaid.""What is a Dutch doll?" asked Millie."Her head and body were in one piece,very solid wood, and she had great jointed
40 Rose and Millie.wooden arms and legs. She was an uglyred-faced thing. I called her Blowse. Herwig was nailed on. We couldn't get thenails out, but we pulled off all that wasn'tunder the nail heads. Of course we gother arms and legs off. Her eyes wouldn'tcome out, for they were only painted. Weflattened her nose with a stone. It wasvery hard. Then we set her up at oneend of the room, and rolled balls at herfrom the other end. Of course that didn'thurt her. Poor Blowse! she was past hurt-ing. But it was good exercise. Then forawhile I had no doll. When I wanted oneI took the baby's pillow and tied a stringround it for a neck. Now I have a hand-some one, and I am not going to break herup. Mother says it is the last I am everto have.""I have a doll," said Millie, "but it isbroken. Bertha plays with it more than I
IMIadame Lanoir's Cottage. 41do. We play things out of books, the boysand I.""What sort of things ?" asked Rose."Take care! I'm afraid you will tear thatdress. Let me take it off.""Why," answered Millie, "anything wehave been reading about. Last week weplayed Martyr. We set the chairs round forthe Coliseum, and one of the boys was theRoman Emperor, and one was the lion.Bertha was the Martyr. I led her into theColiseum. Then I opened the cage and thelion came out, (he was under the bed), andhe devoured her, of course.""O that's good," said Kitty. "I'll playthat some day. What else?""Once we played Jewish Tabernacle, andarranged the play-room like the two partsof the tent, you know, and had an altar,and a table for shew-bread, and Aaron's rodthat budded, and the pot of manna andeverything."
42 Rose and Millie."Why, Millie Swan," exclaimed Rose, "Ithink that is wicked! You oughtn't to makeplay of what is in the Bible.""I didn't think it was any harm. Wedid not do anything but fix the room uplike the picture, and it wasn't so very muchlike it, of course. We didn't know how tomake angels on the mercy seat.""Well, I think it was wicked. I mean toask' mother if it wasn't."Millie was silenced, but not convinced.She went on dressing the doll, while Roseset the table, and Kitty sent the kitchengirl for the doctor for her sick baby." Tell us some more, just one," askedKitty." Sometimes we play Transmigration ofSouls.""For pity's sake, what's that?"" Don't you know the people in India be-lteve that when they die their souls go into
IMadame Lanoir's Cottage. 43something else, and they become an ele-phant, or a serpent, or something? Well,you see, we make believe die, and then turninto something else, and when we are tiredof that life, we die again, and try another.It is like 'Indus,' in 'Evenings at Home.'The boys like it.""That must be good fun. We'll play thatat home, too!" said Kitty. Just then Roseannounced the doll's supper, and for an hourthe little girls played with great satisfaction.Then Kitty went home, and Rose calledMillie to help her put all the playthingsaway. As they were doing it, Millie re-membered the book in the lower drawer."Rose," she began, "haven't you a bookto lend me when I go home?""No, indeed, you read too much.""But," continued Millie, "I do want abook. There is a book called 'Amy Her-bert,' that I'd give anything to read." She
44 Rose and Millie.blushed as she spoke, and hated the dissim-ulation into which her fault had led her,while she had not the courage to confess it.She hoped Rose would say, "I have thatbook in my drawer, and you can go andget it." But instead of that, to her greatastonishment, Rose replied carelessly, "ButI haven't it, and if I had, I should not thinkit best to lend it to you, for you read agreat deal too much already." If Rose hadnot been very busy folding her doll's bestdress, and laying it away in her bureau-drawer, she would have seen Millie's eyeswide open with amazement. Millie wason the point of exclaiming, "Why, yes,Rose, you have it!" but stopped short,dreading Rose's indignant question, "Howdo you know?" which would be sure tofollow. She did not .guess the truth, thatRose did not even know the name of abook she had owned for half a year.
Madame Lanoir's Cottage. 45Rose remembered that she had a purplebook, and conscience whispered to her, "Bekind, and lend her that;" but she said toher conscience, so softly, that she hardlyheard it herself, "I don't want to;" andthen she said to herself, "Uncle John wouldnot like to have me lend his beautifulChristmas present for Millie's little brothersto spoil." Then she told herself what a'good careful girl she was, and she put herplaythings away very nicely, while Milliestood by, doubting and wondering at whatRose had said, and feeling much ashamedof herself for having gone prying intodrawers she had no right to open.But as she was lamenting her broken res-olutions, a chaise drove up to the door, andall her sorrowful thoughts took flight whenshe heard her father's voice asking for her.She ran gaily down stairs, crying, "Here Iam, father. Have you come to take mehome ?"g
46 Rose and Millie."Yes, we begin to think we should liketo see you again. Besides, somebody is athome whom you must come and see.""Aunt Maria?""Yes, Aunt Maria is there; but there issomebody else.""0, who is it, father?""The dearest little baby-sister that ever"you saw.""0 father, is it true?""Run and get ready, and we will go andsee."She ran off, almost too eager to waitwhile Nora the maid put her things, soileddress, spoiled boots and all, into her valise.Then she bade Mrs. Wilder 'and Rose aglad and loving good-by, and drove off withher father, a very happy child, to find theprecious treasure of a baby-sister reallythere.Besides the pleasure of seeing father and
Madame Lanoir's Cottage. 47mother, brothers and sisters again, AuntMaria's coming was a great joy to her, forwith Aunt Maria she could talk more freelythan with any one else. She seemed to un-derstand her thoughts and feelings as noone else did, and she was like the LordJesus in this, that it was easy to confess afault to her, for she "upbraided not." Sothat evening, as Millie sat beside her in thelong twilight, she told her the story of thelast three days, and all her misdeeds. AuntMaria listened with a quiet smile, which itwas too dark for Millie to see, and thensaid, "Well, dear, you must confess yourfaults to your Father in heaven, as franklyas you have to me, and ask him to forgivethem all for Jesus' sake." She did so, andthe trouble passed away from her heart andconscience.When Millie had gone from Fairbank,Rose took her purple book from the drawer,
48 Rose and Millie.to restore it to its usual place. It was easyto see that it had been moved, for it waslying on the shawl, instead of under it.Then she saw that its name was "Amy Her-bert," and understood at once what had hap-pened. "That naughty, meddlesome girl,"she exclaimed. "She rummaged over all mythings. And now she thinks I told a. lie!"She was very much vexed, and no wonder.She went to her mother to complain ofMillie, and to ask what she should do. "Mydaughter," said Mrs. Wilder, "you must tellMillie that you had not read the book, anddid not know its name; and you had betterlend it to her, since she wants it so much."So, one pleasant day, a week or two after,Rose went to see Millie, and took the bookwith her, carefully guarded by a papercover. Millie received it with many blushesand humble apologies, and never saw itwithout a pang of shame.
Madame Lanoir's Cottage. 49It was a useful lesson to her; and whileRose's good opinion of herself grew andflourished with every contrast which shedrew between her own virtues and Millie'sfaults, Millie's humility deepened at everyremembrance of her self-will and restlesscuriosity. Striving against her own faults,she thought of Rose's neatness and careful-ness with a desire to imitate them, and thusher visit to Fairbank became for her a start-ing-point of visible improvement and growthof character.4
CHAPTER IV.ROSE AT HOME.-LISETTE S FLOWERS.-- ROSE'SHYACINTHS.IF Rose and Millie had met among otherchildren, where each could have found amore desirable companion, no friendship"would probably ever -have sprung up be-tween these two, who were so unlike, thateach seemed to bring out the faults of theother into unusual prominence. But Godoften places such characters together, some-times binding them by family ties, and atother times throwing them together by theforce of circumstances, as in this case. Mil-lie's father was pastor of a young and strug-gling church, bearing its heavy burden ofso
Rose at Home. 51various cares, and living as best he could,on the small salary it could pay.Rose's father was a member of thatchurch, disqualified by his timidity fromtaking an active part in its social meetings,or in its labors among the poor and igno-rant, but very useful in his way. He wasready to help the church with money tothe extent of his ability, and showed him-self always a kind and generous friend tohis pastor. Naturally therefore, Rose andMillie saw a good deal of one another, andalthough there was no bond of inner sym-pathy uniting their hearts, the familiar andpleasant intercourse of years built up avery good friendship between them, whichexerted its beneficial influence upon themboth, first on Millie, as we have seen, andafterwards on Rose also.For anything was good for Rose whichwidened, even ever so little, the narrow
52 Rose and Mzllie.round in which she lived. She had neverromped and played out-doors like otherchildren, partly because she had no one toplay with, partly because she was not avery strong and healthy child, and partlybecause her mother's careful lessons in pro-priety kept her too constantly in check.Then her father was terrified if he saw herin a swing, or on a "see-saw," trembled ifshe crossed the brook on a plank, nevertrusted her in a boat on the pond, and wasafraid to have her coast down hill on asled, or even on those safe, runnerless In-dian sleds, or tabogans, on which three orfour sat, one behind another, with no worsedanger to dread, than possibly a tumble alltogether into the soft snow."My dear," said Mrs. Wilder, one morn-ing to her husband, "Mr. Swan advises meto send Rose to school.""Why, isn't Miss West as good a teacheras any in town?"
Rose at Home. 53"Oh, he did not raise any objection toher, but he said he thought it would begood for Rose to mingle more with otherchildren.""Rose is very well as she is. I am sureI don't want her to be like other children.I like to have her quiet and orderly. Ishould never feel safe about her for a mo-ment if she were like Millie Swan. Why,that child, the last time she was here,went across the brook on the outside of therailing of the bridge! And then she climbedup the hay in the barn, and sat on thebeam! If she had fallen, she would havebroken her neck.""Well, my dear," said Mrs. Wilder, "Iam sure I am not desirous to send heramong those rough school-children in thetown. It would be very lonely for me,too, without her.""To be sure. The girl's place is at home
54 Rose and Millie.with her mother. By all means, let hercontinue with Miss West."So after the summer vacation, Miss West,Rose's governess, returned. Rose was veryglad, for she liked her, and enjoyed hav-ing a constant companion in her daily walks,and some one to talk to in the house whenher mother was busy about her householdtalks, or sitting, as she did every day foran hour or two, in her room alone, besideher table, on which lay her well-worn Bibleand hymn-book, and many a volume of de-vout meditation or pious memoir or relig-ious discourse. Rose knew them well, forevery Sunday morning before she went tochurch, and every Sunday afternoon afterSabbath-school, her mother read to her pageafter page, with much fervor and enjoy-ment; but Rose did not understand muchof it, nor could she enter into what was soforeign to a child's experience. She gener-
Rose at Home. 55ally sat in the corner of the sofa, watchingwith weary patience the restless movementsof the canary in the cage at the window,or the swaying shadow of the maple boughsacross the muslin curtain.When Mrs. Wilder saw that she wastired and inattentive, she would close thevolume with a sigh, saying, "My daughter,it is my daily prayer that God may giveyou a taste for spiritual things,"Then Rose would kiss her mother, andgo away, sorry that she was not a Chris-tian, but seeing no help for it, if it wasnecessary for her to enjoy those books asher mother did, in order to become one.For Rose did not care for any books;even books of travel or children's storieshad no charm for her, and Miss West readto her for an hour every day, as a part ofthe daily lessons, things which most chil-dren would read for themselves with avidity,
56 Rose and Mlilhe.in their play time. Miss West was a youngEnglish woman, rather pretty, with shortcurls of fair brown hair; not much of astudent, but "accomplished," as Mrs. Wildersaid; that is, she could play and sing prettywell, make pencil sketches, and paint a littlein water colors, speak French, and em-broider, both in silk and worsted; dobead-work, shell-work, and fancy knitting."And surely," Mrs. Wilder said, "suchthings are more suitable for a lady, andmore useful, than Latin and mathematics."So when Rose sat down in the pleasantdining-room to her lessons, she read a little,wrote a little, learned four or five lines otgrammar, and four or five lines of geogra-phy, did two or three easy sums, and thenspent the rest of the time at her worsted-work, or her picture, while Miss West readto her some simple story.Rose felt no need of excitements or great
Rose at Home. 57pleasures; the daily comforts of home, thefond love of father and mother; little tasks,not difficult nor unpleasant, and abundantlyrewarded with their partial praise, the careof her birds and flowers, these, and thingslike these, gave her enjoyment enough.- Inthe summer there were long delightful even-ing drives, in the winter there was thesleigh-ride in the short bright afternoon.Lisette Lanoir was a source of muchpleasure to her, though Rose was as uncon-scious of the fact as Lisette. The sight ofthe bright, merry little French girl livinga life so entirely different from her own,having such different teaching, such differentthoughts and feelings about everything, hadsomething of the interest for her whichMillie would have found in a story-book.Lisette came over to Fairbank one morningin early spring, while yet the snow wasscarcely gone from the garden, bringei a
58 Rose and Millie.little basket of flowers. She was dressedin her best, and her dark eyes were full ofsmiles, as usual. "Mademoiselle Rose," shesaid, "I have bring my flowers to show youfirst. Now I shall take them to the con-vent, and the Sisters will let me place themin the Chapel. They are for Our Lady andthe dear Child Jesus. I shall lay them be-fore their picture. Look, Mademoiselle, arethey not pretty ?""Beautiful!" said Rose. "Did all theseblossom in your house?""Yes, Mademoiselle, every one. There issome geranium, and some roses, and greenleaves, and this white lily. I am glad theyare so pretty. What we make a gift to Godshould be good. Adieu, Mademoiselle Rose.It is time for me to go to the convent;"and Lisette courtesied and went away.Rose took her work-box and went intothe sitting-room. Her mother was there, andMr. Swan.
Rose at Home. 59"Was that Lisette who just went out?"asked Mrs. Wilder."Yes, mother, she came in to show meher basket of flowers. She has cut all theblossoms that looked so bright in their southwindow, and is going to take them to theNuns' Chapel, to give to Jesus." Roseimagined it must be very pleasant to un-cover those sweet flowers and carry them upthe aisle of the little chapel, before the ad-miring eyes of the nuns and their school-children, and lay them in front of the pic-ture, while the tall candles were burning,and the sunbeams came in through the brightred curtains, which hung in heavy folds overall the windows. Lisette had often describedthe chapel to her, and had shown it to heronce. Rose had six hyacinths growing inbulb-glasses in the window, now nearly readyto blossom. "Mother," she said, "I shouldlike to give my flowers to Jesus too."
60 Rose and Millie."My daughter, I hope you will not leanany Papistical notions from Lisette. It itnot your flowers, but your heart, which theLord requires of you. You should give himthat."Rose looked dissatisfied, and Mr. Swansaid, "You can give him your flowers too,if you like. There are better ways of doingit than leaving them to fade in the emptychurch before a picture. You rememberChrist says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done itunto the least of these my brethren, ye havedone it unto me.' Suppose you take yourbeautiful hyacinths to the hospital, if youwant to give them to Christ, and leavethem there to comfort the sick with theirbeauty and fragrance.""Yes, you might do that," said Mrs.Wilder. This was not exactly the same,Rose thought, but still she would like todo it. So from that time, she watched the
Rose at Home. 61growth of the flowers with interest, waitingfor them to be expanded enough to take tothe hospital.One morning, when she came down stairs,she found that Nora, in opening the shutters,had thrown down one of the bulb-olasses.The vase was broken, and the leaves andbuds cut and spoiled by the fall among thesharp edges of the glass.She was inflicting a very angry reproofupon the poor girl, using many harsh words,when Miss West called her. "Rose, mydear, I do not like to hear you speak soto Nora, or any one.""But, Miss West, she was so careless,and the white hyacinth, the best of all, isquite spoiled. And they were not exactlymine, you know. I was going to take itto the hospital. That bad girl has done somuch harm, she ought to be scolded, I amsure."
62 Rose and MAi7ie."Now Rose, just think. It was not ex-actly yours, you say. That is be&use youhad already given it, in purpose, to Jesus,and it was his. Now just imagine, if Jesushad come into the room himself and foundhis flower broken, would he have talked soto Nora about it ?"Rose did not answer, but her face flushedwith sudden shame, and Miss West saw thatthe child felt how very differently he wouldhave acted, and she said no more."I know what he would -have done," saidRose, presently. "He would have taken upthe flower, and made it all right again, andall in full open blossom.""I think not. He never did a wonderfulwork like that for his own pleasure.""So he didn't," said Rose.The next afternoon a lady called to- seeMrs. Wilder, and brought with her a littleboy about four years old. He looked very
Rose at Home. 63pretty in his velvet suit, and worked ruffles,and with his long fair curls like a girl.But he was a spoiled child, as fretful andtroublesome as he was pretty, and preventedall quiet conversation. So Mrs. Wildersaid, "Rose, dear, take Alfred into the din-ing-room, and give him some cake and figsout of the side-board. I think he must behungry."The young gentleman was pacified forawhile with something good to eat, but eventhat soon failed to amuse him, and he setout in search of adventure round the dining-room. At the moment when Rose's backwas turned towards him, she being busyputting back the cake-basket and fig-box,he climbed a chair and seized her pink hya-cinth, which was a little more forward thanthe others, and had just begun to hang outits fragrant bells." Want flower!" he cried, snatching it,
64 Rose and Millie.bulb and all, from the glass. Before Rosecould reach him, he had broken off all thedelicate white fibres of its roots, and wasendeavoring to separate the leaves and blos-som from the brown bulb. "Take awaypotato " he said, " ugly potato. I wantflower!" "0 you bad boy, you mischievouschild! You have spoilt my beautiful hya-cinth!" Rose exclaimed, and then suddenlyremembered what Miss West had said aboutJesus. Alfred set up a shrill scream asshe took it from him. She broke off thebulb, already hopelessly spoiled, and gavethe child the leaves and flower, saying,"Never mind, Alfred, here is the flower,take it to mother." When the troublesomelittle visitor was gone, she said to MissWest, "There goes the second one. Mr.Swan said I could give them to Jesus, butit doesn't seem much use trying to* savethem for him."
Rose at Home. ,65"My dear child," answered Miss West,"you have given them to him already, can-not you let him do as he likes with them?"Rose' looked at her governess with surprise,not so much at her words, as at a lookin her face and a kind of earnestness in hertone, which were unusual. But Rose wasnot a student of character, and the passingwonder was but for a moment. Miss West,for her part, was not in the habit of follow-ing out hints and glimpses of the meaningsof things, and the recollection which wokethat momentary tenderness, passed awayamong slighter things. She thought, asRose spoke, of her mother in England, say-ing as she stood beside the little grave ofher only son, "I gave him to God, expect-ing he would do great things with him inthe world. But surely he may do what hewill with his own."If she had followed out the thought a5
66 Rose and Millie.little further, it might have led her to ahappier content with what God was doingwith her, a lesson she needed just then,- forher life seemed dull and colorless to her,and she was restless and uneasy. But ifGod spoke to her in the suggestion andthe remembrance, she was not listening.The following week, Mrs. Wilder tookRose to the hospital, to place her four re-maining hyacinths on the little tables be-tween the beds where the poor suffererslay. They were a great delight to theweary eyes that had seen nothing so beauti-ful for many a day; and Rose could notbut admit that it was serving Christ withthem, more than if she had laid them beforehis picture in the Nun's quiet chapel, andshe told Lisette so.Lisette said, "It may be so, Madamoiselle.I will ask the Sisters."SAnd she did, and reported the nun's
Rose at Home. 67answer to Rose. "She have said, Made-moiselle, that our Lord may be served inone way and the other. St. Madeleine withher box of spikenard did please him, andalso the mourning lady who did put hermoney in the church-box."Rose, who knew her testament betterthan Lisette, laughed at "St. Madeleine"and at the "church-box," at which Lisettewithdrew, with a haughty toss of her shinyblack braids of hair, and a deferential littlecourtesy. She knew that Miss Rose was aheretic, and was sure that the Sisters knewbest. She felt that ridicule was no argu-ment; but of course she could not disputewith Mademoiselle," she was too politefor that.
CHAPTER V.MILLIE'S HOME.--THE FIRE.-A VISIT TO MAX-WELL PARK.THE house in which Millie lived was verydifferent from Fairbank. It had no prettyname of its own, like that, but was only asmall house in a city street, very much likethe other houses. Within, it was comfort-able and homelike down stairs, but rathercrowded and noisy sometimes up in theplay-room, when Robert. and Frank wereat their boyish plays, and baby Clara addedher shrill little voice to the uproar. Thesetwo boys were nearly of an age, about thesame size, and so much alike that they weregenerally taken for twins. They did not go68
Millie's Home. 69to school with Millie, but attended Mr.Hastings' class of boys, where they learneda little English and much Latin, accordingto the custom of the place and time.At home, the family government wasstrict, and the children had not that freerange of the house and that liberty of ac-tion which American children are apt toconsider their birthright. Only in theplay-room in winter, and the garret in sum-mer, and in their little bed-rooms oppositeeach other, each with its one dormer win-dow, did the children feel free to do asthey pleased. Into the parlor they neverwent uninvited, except after tea, where, untiltheir early bed-time, they heartily enjoyedthe bright wood fire, their mother's gaylittle tunes upon the piano, and sometimesa frolic with their father. Into his studythey would not have thought of venturing.It was a place for reading and thought and
70 Rose and Millie.prayer, and for the making of sermons inperfect stillness.The dining-room was certainly less sacredthan either of the other rooms, and threetimes a day the welcome bell brought themdown to it, eight little noisy feet, on theback stairs, for the front were forbiddenground. But here they were often remindedthat "children should be seen and notheard," and the meal-time was frequentlythe occasion of a painful and trying lessonin manners; so that the seasons of break-fast, dinner and tea, were not times ofunmixed enjoyment. It was evidentlynecessary that they should reserve theiroverflow of spirits until they were out ofdoors, or at school, or in the play-room.For Millie, school, with all its restraints,was freedom compared with the restrictionsof home; and very soon, her occupationsthere became more interesting to her than
Millie's Home. 71even the sports of the play-room or the gar-den, where she could have for companionsonly the two boys, or little Bertha, fiveyears younger than herself. Bertha spentmost of her time in the nursery, with babyClara and the nurse. Her mother was therealso, most of the morning, but the cares ofthe parish usually absorbed her afternoons.School and lessons became Millie's delight,therefore; supplying both social intercourseand mental occupation, the great wants ofher loving heart and active mind. Theteacher, Mrs. Riley, had never, like someof our best instructors of youth, lain awakenights to think over her pupils one by one,questioning anxiously if each were doing themost and best she could. She put theminto classes, about a dozen of an age to-gether, and exactly the same lessons andthe same duties were required of each mem-ber of the class. It was therefore necessary
72 Rose and Millie.to apportion the work very nearly accordingto the capacity of the lowest faculties. Inevery class, consequently, a few of the aver-age, or rather below it, were duly taskedaccording to their powers; a few of theslowest and dullest, were dragged along ata pace hopelessly too rapid for them, whilethe brighter half of the number had far toolittle to do. This last was the case withMillie, who found time therefore, to readseveral times through, the whole of the his-tory of England, while her lessons slowlycrept along among the Saxon kings. Thereading-book, which fortunately containedsome gems of prose and verse, was faithfullystudied, the descriptive parts of the geog-raphy became familiar, and the narrativeparts of the Bible were read and re-read.A few books, which she was able to borrowfrom the other children, were devoured athome or surreptitiously at school; a few, for
Millie's Home. 73there were not so many children's booksthen and there as we have now. At homeshe read Pilgrim's Progress, the -oly War,History of Missions in the South Sea, Riseand Progress of Religion in the Soul, Let-ters to a Young Christian, and several simi-lar works, with real interest. Baxter'sSaint's Rest, Daniel Webster's Orations,and the Tale of a Tub, she tried more thanonce to read, for want of anything else, butthese she found uninteresting, because in-comprehensible to her. There were booksin her father's library which would havebeen delightful and useful to her, such asRollin's Ancient History, Shakspeare, Scott,and Irving. But no one gave them to her,and it was years before she found them forherself. No one guessed the hunger of thechild's mind, or imagined that the chiefremembrance she would retain through lifeof her long hours of banishment to the
74 Rose and Millie.play-room, would be of ennui and not offrolic.One summer Mrs. Swan went home toher father's house for a few weeks' changeand rest, taking Bertha and the baby withher. Her husband accompanied her, for hetoo, needed a vacation. Millie and the boyswere left in charge of Margaret, a faithfulwoman, who had lived with the family manyyears; and Mrs. Swan asked Miss Telfair,a dear old friend of hers, to call sometimes,and see if all were well. One Saturdaynight while they were gone, a fire brokeout at the other end of the street on whichthey lived, and a dry season and high windcaused it to spread rapidly in that direction.Margaret woke the children, and bade themdress, while she left them to pack up suchvaluable articles as they could carry withthem, should they be forced to escape.Startled, and trembling with the chill of
Millie's Home. 75the night and the sudden terror, Millie andthe boys tried to dress., Unfortunately,Margaret had carried away all their soiledclothes the night before, and had not laidout clean ones in their place, thinking itwould be time enough to do so in the morn-ing. So the children opened drawers atrandom, and put on whatever they couldfind. Millie was neither uncomfortable norunpresentable in her last winter's clothes;but the boys were more unfortunate. Theylighted upon some worn and out-grownsuits, which had been laid aside to giveaway. Margaret did not observe theirragged condition, but bade them put ontheir overcoats, as the wind was chilly.When they were thus equipped, as therewas nowhere to go, and nothing to do, theboys brought their school satchel, and putinto it such things as they deemed mostvaluable. First of all, their three Bibles,
76 Rose and Millie.then a box of beads, Bertha's special treas-ure, which she had left at home by mistake."She would be so sorry," said Millie,."ifthey were burned up." Millie brought twoor three school-books, Frank a top, andRobert a paint-box. "If all our things wereburned," he said, "we could sell this, andit would buy us at least a loaf of bread."The door-bell rang, and a stranger askedif*for the children. "Miss Telfair, who boardsat my house, sent me for them," he said."She could not come herself, not being wellenough, but sent me with orders to take acarriage, and bring the children to her. Butno carriage is to be had, as all are filledwith women, children, and valuables, escap-ing from the fire." "We can walk," saidMillie, bravely, but rather faintly, for shefelt chilly and weak and frightened. So theyset out, the boys carrying their satchels, andMillie holding fast to her protector's hand.
Millie's Home. 77The street was lit with a strange red glare,and was filled with a noisy crowd. Thefire was yet far away, but smoke and sparkswere blown towards them, and the crackleand roar made itself heard occasionally abovethe noise of the people. They turned intoa side street, and so were able to make theirway more easily to Miss Telfair's. She waswaiting for them, full of -anxiety, and re-ceived them with joy, warmed and fedthem, and then prepared a bed on thefloor for the boys, put Millie in her ownbed, and lay down beside her, but not tosleep.It was a dreary Sabbath which rose uponthe ashes of the town next morning. Crowdswere homeless in the streets, crowds werestill anxious, lest the smouldering fires shouldbreak out anew, and extend the wide ruinstill further. Crowds were busy ministeringto the hungry and destitute. Army tents
78 Rose and Millie.were going up ii the open squares, manychurches were filled with furniture and poorpeople. In few was there any service thatday. Mr. Swan's house was still standing,but so near the smoking ruins, that it wasthought best not to let the children returnthere for two or three days, until all dangerwas past. So Miss Telfair took a carriage,and drove with them that Sabbath afternoonfive or six miles out of town, to MaxwellPark, the beautiful residence of her sister.She would have stopped at their home toprocure for them some more suitable clothes,but the street was impassable; and so ithappened that the children made their ap-pearance at Maxwell Park in garments whichpresented a striking contrast to those of thewell-dressed sons and daughters of Mrs.Wilmore. Neither Millie nor the boys careda pin for their appearance, however, nordid they enjoy the elegance of Maxwell
Millie's Home. 79Park one whit the less because their wristsand ankles had out-grown their sleeves andtrowsers, and there were worn spots onelbows and knees. It speaks well for thepoliteness of their young hosts, that theselittle deficiencies were not made the subjectof remark or ridicule. In the Park theyran wild, like three young deer let loose,free and rejoicing out of doors in the pleas-ant summer weather. Millie found "TheArabian Nights" in the children's book-shelves, and climbed a tree in a retired partof the Park with it. There, sitting on astout limb, and leaning back against themossy trunk, among green leaves and sing-ing birds, she spent happy hours, entrancedin dreams of Oriental splendors and wondersfar away.When the boys found her and called heraway to play with them and their youngersister, they got up a Tournament, the two
80 Rose and Millie.girls being rival Princesses, and theirbrothers, as their royal knights, viedwith each other before them in feats ofstrength and skill, or wrestled in mockcombat, the victor bearing away the crown,woven of great white daisies, for hislady.Three such gala-days passed rapidly by,and then Miss Talfair came for the children,and took them back to their home, wheretheir father and mother were to arrive thatevening. How desolate the street looked!Everything beyond the corner below themwas gone, except the tall stone chimneysstanding among heaps of blackened brickand stone, and charred timbers. A mile ofdreary ruins! The pastor hastened home tocomfort and aid his scattered and afflictedflock, and it was with deep thankfulness thathe gathered his family once more togetherin his undevastated home.
Millie's Home. 81How they laughed over the contents ofthe heavy satchel the boys had carried toMaxwell Park and back. "You see we didnot know what was going to happen," saidMillie; "if we had, we should have takenclothes instead. I did wish we had takensome clean stockings and handkerchiefs, in-stead of all three Bibles. One would havebeen enough.""Clothes would have been more usefulthan books and toys in any case," said theirmother. "We could buy new books in aminute, but clothes have to be made as wellas bought.""Yes. I didn't think of that. Next timewe will put on our best things, and fill ourbag with clean clothes.""Next time!" said Margaret, "God sendus no such next time! But if he does, weshall just do some other foolish thing, that's6
82 Rose and AMillie.all. Fire takes away the brains of us! Butall's well that ends well."The days and weeks that followed werefill of work and care for the poor sufferers,of whom the town was full. Even the chil-dren were kept busy for them; the boyswere sent hither and thither with food andclothes, and Millie found that sewing wasnot so bad when one had a motive for it,and an interest in it. Helping mother orMargaret or the nurse make dresses andpetticoats for children whose clothes wereall destroyed in that dreadful fire, wassomething worth doing, and not at alllike hemming a handkerchief to pass awaythe time.There was no school for a week or two,for Mrs. Riley, like every one else, .washerself working for the poor, and two house-less families occupied her school-rooms.So Millie had plenty of time to sew, and
Millie's Home. 83made rapid improvement in the art. Sewingmachines had not then been heard of, andbusy hands had to take every stitch, andeven little hands were useful in this time offearful need.
CHAPTER VI.MILLIE AT CHURCH AND SUNDAY SCHOOL.-MISSWEST'S TEMPTATION.-SUNDAY EVENING.IT was a bright, cold Sabbath morning inwinter. Millie and her brothers, warmlymuffled up, set out early for Sabbath School.As the snow was covered with a solid, glit-tering crust, they went out by the back gate,to take the shorter way across the wide fieldswhich lay behind the house.Over the gleaming snow they went, pastone of the great round Martello towerswhich flanked the walls of the quaint oldfortified town, across the field to the road,which wound between vast walls of stoneto the city gate. Through the long, low,84
At Church and Sunday School. 85damp arch the children went, and thendown a narrow city street, quiet with Sab-bath stillness, to the church, in whosebasement room the Sunday School was as-sembled. Somewhat cold and formal theopening exercises seemed, and very littleinterest did Millie take in the lesson. Itwas from the Assembly's Shorter Catechism.The questions were asked in a solemn tone,by her teacher, Miss Beam, a prim, elderlyperson, 'who enforced perfect order andstillness in her class. Four little girls, ofwhom Millie was one, sat motionless beforeher, their hands folded in their laps, givingthe answers each in turn. When they hadrecited from the beginning as far as thequestion for the day, she expounded to them"what is forbidden by the second command-ment."After Sabbath School, the children weremarshaled quietly and in order up stairs
86 Rose and Millie.into the church, where they scattered totheir places beside their parents. Of course,Millie and her brothers, as the minister'schildren, who should be a pattern to allothers, were required to be, if possible,stiller and more decorous than any one else.Millie conscientiously endeavored to conformto her duty, but it seemed to her that atno other time did her back so ache, or herfeet grow so numb with cold; at no othertime was she so tormented with thirst orthe pressure of her rubber shoes. Childrennow-a-days do not often know what thatlast feeling is; but if, instead of the presentcomfortable and pretty rubber shoe, theywore what Millie did, they would knowthat ache as she did. At that time, theonly rubbers in use were run in a mould,around a last, thick, solid, round, un-graceful things,--most painful to the littlefeet that were outgrowing them. Why didn't
At Church and Sunday School. 87she take them off? They did not begin tohurt her till about the middle of the ser-mon, and it required so much exertion toget them off, that it never occurred to hershe could do otherwise than sit still andbear it till the service was over. It wasno doubt very good for her. If she couldnot understand her father's sermon, shecould at least understand the rubbers, whichpreached patience and endurance.Service over, and the congregation dis-missed, the family repaired to the vestry,a small room opening upon the pulpit plat-form. Here Mr. Swan took off the gownhe wore while preaching, Mrs. Swan openedthe lunch-basket, and Millie, the boys, andBertha, who had come with her parents,gathered around the small stove, where thepleasant warmth and something to eat soonmade them comfortable again.Lunch over, Mr. Swan and the children
88 Rose and Millie.went down stairs into the Sabbath Schoolroom, but Millie, who had a question toask her mother, lingered beside her whileshe gathered up the fragments of theirlunch, and restored the vestry to its usualorder. The moment had come for Millieto ask her question. The earnestness ofher heart fixed the strange little room inher memory forever. It was narrow, andvery high, its side walls unbroken by evena picture or a shadow. At one end wasthe arched door, of dark wood, which openedinto the church, now still and empty; atthe other end was a lancet window, deepset in the thick stone wall, and lookingacross a narrow alley upon the neighbor-ing buildings, which were so near that littlelight could enter, barely enough to showthe small table with its Bible and hymn-book, the chairs, the stove and the widesloping window-seat. That was all, but she
At Church and Sunday School. 89never forgot just how it looked when shesaid, in a voice husky with feeling,-"Mother, would they let a little girllike me join the church?-I mean, wouldthey if they were sure I was a Chris-tian ?""Yes, my dear; there is no reason whya church should not admit a child to itsmembership. They could not refuse youif they knew you 'to be a Christian; butmany persons think that a child is veryliable to change its mind. Do you wish tounite with the church, Millie?""Yes, mother, I do. Last Sunday, whenI went away out of our pew and sat inthe side seats while you all were at theCommunion, I wished I could be with you,for I love Jesus too, and it was like sayingI didn't, to be out there alone. Will youask father ? ""Yes, my child, I will tell him what you
90 Rose and Millie.have said, and he will talk with you aboutit. I am very glad you desire it."It may as well be mentioned here, thatMillie's wish was granted the followingSpring. The conversations which her father,and the superintendent of the SabbathSchool, and one of the deacons, and a min-ister who spent a Sabbath at her home,held severally with her, were painful andtrying to her, notwithstanding the kindnesswhich each and all manifested towards her,because she felt that much depended uponthe perfect truthfulness of her replies totheir questions, and she was anxiously care-ful not to express too much. Frightenedand embarrassed, she felt that she gavecold and meagre answers which showednothing of her true feelings, and she saidto herself, as one of them left the roomafter conversing with her, or rather, afterasking her many questions, "He does not
At Church and Sunday School. 91know anything about what is really in myheart, after all, but I cannot help it."She was received into the church, how-ever. She stood alone in the aisle, andresponded to the creed and covenant, andthen sat down, for the first time, besideher mother and Aunt Maria, to partake ofthe Lord's Supper with His people. Shehad hoped to find here the settled assur-ance that she should certainly be gatheredwith His own in Heaven; but she was dis-appointed. She could not help thinking,"It may be-it may be, I have no righthere. No one knows anything about whatI really am, but myself, and I do not knowcertainly, that I am a Christian."The Lord gave her a warmer welcomethan she knew. She understood him betteryears after.But to return to the Sunday in winter ofwhich we were speaking. Millie and her
92 Rose and Millie.mother went down stairs to the Sunday-school room. It did not seem like thesame place in which she had sat so frigidlyin the morning. A different teacher, a dif-ferent lesson, and a much larger attendance,both of adults and children, made the after-noon session very unlike that of the morn-ing.It was not Miss Beam now, but MissWest; not the Catechism, but the dearwords of the Lord himself; not four littlegirls in a motionless row, but seven or eightnestling close to their teacher and to oneanother. Among them was Rose Wilder.She paid a more steady and uniform atten-tion to all that was said, than Millie, wholooked up with glowing face when theteacher's words awakened any emotion orgave her a new thought, but whose eyeswandered away to other classes while MissWest was going over ground familiar toher.
-aAt Church and Sunday School. 93When the lesson was over, the room wasalready dusky with the early twilight of theshort winter day. It seemed to add solemn-ity to the closing hymn,-" When Thou, my righteous Judge shalt come,To call Thy ransomed people home,Shall I among them stand ?"Miss West and Rose, accustomed to singtogether, took their part distinctly andsweetly, in the singing. Millie could notsing much, but the hymn moved her to thedepth of her heart. She shuddered at thethought, "What if my name should be leftout?" but her faoe brightened and her eyesgrew earnest with hope as she joined in theprayer of the last verse, "Among Thy saintslet me be found." After the silence whichfollowed the hymn, the benediction fell uponher heart like summer rain on thirsty flow-ers. She took Miss West's hand in both