Girls of the Forest Part 17

Now think the matter over. You needn't decide just this minute. I shall come to the wicket-gate at half-past seven, and if you like to meet me, why, you can; but if you are still too good, and your conscience is too troublesome, and your scruples too keen, you need not come. I shall quite understand. In that case, perhaps, I'd best not give you that lovely, lovely present that I saved up so much money to buy."

Pauline clasped her hands and stepped away from Nancy. As she did so the breeze caught her full gray skirt and caused it to blow against Nancy.

Nancy stretched out her hand and caught hold of Pauline's pocket.

"What is this hard thing?" she cried. "Have you got a nut in your pocket?"

"No," said Pauline, instantly smiling and dimpling. "Oh, Nancy, such fun!"

She dived into her pocket and produced Miss Tredgold's thimble.

"Oh, I say!" cried Nancy. "What a beauty! Who in the world gave you this treasure, Paulie?"

"It isn't mine at all; it belongs to Aunt Sophia."

"You sly little thing! You took it from her?"

"No, I didn't. I'm not a thief. I saw it in the gra.s.s a few minutes ago and picked it up. It had rolled just under that dock-leaf. Isn't it sweet? I shall give it back to her after she has forgiven me to-morrow."

"What a charming, return-good-for-evil character you have suddenly become, Pauline!"

As Nancy spoke she poised the thimble on her second finger. Her fingers were small, white, and tapering. The thimble exactly fitted the narrow tip on which it rested.

"I never saw anything so lovely," she cried. "Never mind, Paulie, about to-morrow. Lend it to me. I'd give my eyes to show it to Becky."

"But why should I lend it to you? I must return it to Aunt Sophia."

"You surely won't give it back to her to-day."

"No, but to-morrow."

"Let to-morrow take care of itself. I want to show this thimble to Becky and Amy. I have a reason. You won't refuse one who is so truly kind to you, will you, little Paulie? And I tell you what: I know you are starving, and you hate to go into the house for your food. I will bring you a basketful of apples, chocolates, and a peach or two. We have lovely peaches ripe in our garden now, although we are such common folk."

Pauline felt thirsty. Her hunger, too, was getting worse. She would have given a good deal to have been able to refuse the horrid meals which would be served to her in the schoolroom. Perhaps she could manage without any other food if she had enough fruit.

"I should like some very much," she said. "Aunt Sophia has, as she calls it, preserved the orchard. We are not allowed to go into it."

"Mean cat!" cried Nancy.

"So will you really send me a basket of fruit?"

"I will send Tom with it the instant I get home. He runs like the wind.

You may expect to find it waiting for you in half-an-hour."

"Thank you. And you will take great care of the thimble, won't you?"

"Of course I will, child. It is a beauty."

Without more ado Nancy slipped the thimble into her pocket, and then nodding to Pauline, and telling her that she would wait for her at the wicket-gate at half-past seven, she left her.

Nancy swung her body as she walked, and Pauline stood and watched her.

She thought that Nancy looked very grown-up and very stylish. To look stylish seemed better than to look pretty in the eyes of the inexperienced little girl. She could not help having a great admiration for her friend.

"She is very brave, and so generous; and she knows such a lot of the world!" thought poor Pauline. "It is a shame not to be allowed to see her whenever one likes. And it would be just heavenly to go to her to-night, instead of spending hungry hours awake in my horrid bedroom."

CHAPTER X.

DISCIPLINE.

The other girls were miserable; but Miss Tredgold had already exercised such a very strong influence over them that they did not dare to disobey her orders. Much as they longed to do so, none of them ventured near poor Pauline. In the course of the afternoon Miss Tredgold called Verena aside.

"I know well, my dear, what you are thinking," she said. "You believe that I am terribly hard on your sister."

Verena's eyes sought the ground.

"Yes, I quite know what you think," repeated Miss Tredgold. "But, Verena, you are wrong. At least, if I am hard, it is for her good."

"But can it do any one good to be downright cruel to her?" said Verena.

"I am not cruel, but I have given her a more severe punishment than she has ever received before in her life. We all, the best of us, need discipline. The first time we experience it when it comes from the hand of G.o.d we murmur and struggle and rebel. But there comes a time when we neither murmur nor struggle nor rebel. When that time arrives the discipline has done its perfect work, and G.o.d removes it. My dear Verena, I am a woman old enough to be your mother. You must trust me, and believe that I am treating Pauline in the manner I am to-day out of the experience of life that G.o.d has given me. We are so made, my dear, that we none of us are any good until our wills are broken to the will of our Divine Master."

"But this is not G.o.d's will, is it?" said Verena. "It is your will."

"Consider for a moment, my child. It is, I believe, both G.o.d's will and mine. Don't you want Pauline to be a cultivated woman? Don't you want her character to be balanced? Don't you want her to be educated? There is a great deal that is good in her. She has plenty of natural talent. Her character, too, is strong and st.u.r.dy. But at present she is like a flower run to weed. In such a case what would the gardener do?"

"I suppose he would prune the flower."

"If it was a hopeless weed he would cast it out of his garden; but if it really was a flower that had degenerated into a weed, he would take it up and put it to some pain, and plant it again in fresh soil. The poor little plant might say it was badly treated when it was taken from its surroundings and its old life. This is very much the case with Pauline.

Now, I do not wish her to a.s.sociate with Nancy King. I do not wish her to be idle or inattentive. I want her to be energetic, full of purpose, resolved to do her best, and to take advantage of those opportunities which have come to you all, my dear, when I, your mother's sister, took up my abode at The Dales. Sometime, dear, it is quite possible that, owing to what will be begun in Pauline's character to-day, people will stop and admire the lovely flower. They will know that the gardener who put it to some pain and trouble was wise and right. Now, my dear girl, you will remember my little lecture. Pauline needs discipline. For that matter, you all need discipline. At first such treatment is hard, but in the end it is salutary."

"Thank you, Aunt Sophy," said Verena. "But perhaps," she added, "you will try and remember, too, that kindness goes a long way. Pauline is perhaps the most affectionate of us all. In some ways she has the deepest feelings. But she can be awfully sulky, and only kindness can move her."

"I quite understand, my dear; and when the time comes kindness will not be wanting. Now go away and amuse yourself with your sisters."

Verena went away. She wondered as she did so where Pauline was hiding herself. The others had all settled down to their various amus.e.m.e.nts and occupations. They were sorry for Pauline, but the pleasant time they were enjoying in the middle of this lovely summer's day was not to be despised, even if their sister was under punishment. But Verena herself could not rest. She went into the schoolroom. On a tray stood poor Pauline's neglected dinner. Verena lifted the cover from the plate, and felt as though she must cry.

"Pauline is taking it hardly," thought the elder girl.

Tea-time came, and Pauline's tea was also sent to the schoolroom. At preparation hour, when the rest of the girls went into the room, Pauline's tea remained just where it had been placed an hour before.

Verena could scarcely bear herself. There must be something terribly wrong with her sister. They had often been hungry in the old days, but in the case of a hearty, healthy girl, to do without any food from breakfast-time when there was plenty to eat was something to regard with uneasiness.

Presently, however, to her relief, Pauline came in. She looked rough and untidy in appearance. She slipped into the nearest chair in a sulky, ungainly fashion, and taking up a battered spelling-book, she held it upside down.

Verena gave her a quick glance and looked away. Pauline would not meet Verena's anxious gaze. She kept on looking down. Occasionally her lips moved. There was a red stain on her cheek. Penelope with one of her sharpest glances perceived this.

"It is caused by fruit," thought the youngest of the schoolroom children.