The Stokesley Secret [50]
Baby must have it all in kisses.
"Christabel," said a little voice, when all the others were gone, "I shall never be pipy again."
"You must try to fight against it, my dear."
"Because," said Elizabeth, coming close up to her, "when dear Mamma was so ill, it did seem so silly to mind about not having pretty things like Ida, and the boys plaguing, and so on."
"Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our little discontents."
"I said so many times yesterday, and the day before, that I would never mind things again, if only Mamma would get well and come home," said the little girl; "and I never shall."
"You will not always find it easy not to mind," said Christabel; "but if you try hard, you will learn how to keep from showing that you mind."
"Oh!" said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an oh! it was,) "those things are grown so silly and little now."
"You have seen them in their true light for once, my dear. And now that you have so great cause of thankfulness to God, you feel that your foolish frets and discontents were unthankful."
"Yes," said Bessie, her eyes cast down, as they always were when anything of this kind was said to her, as if she did not like to meet the look fixed on her.
"Well then, Bessie, try to make the giving up of these murmurs your thank-offering to God. Suppose every day when you say your prayers, you were to add something like this--" and she wrote down on a little bit of paper, "O Thou, who hast raised up my mother from her sickness, teach me to be a thankful and contented child, and to guard my words and thoughts from peevishness."
"Isn't it too small to pray about?" said Elizabeth.
"Nothing is too small to pray about, my dear. Do you think this little midge is too small for God to have made it, and given it life, and spread that mother-of-pearl light on its wings? Do you think yourself too small to pray? or your fault too small to pray about?"
Elizabeth cast down her eyes. She did not quite think it was a fault, but she did not say so.
"Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the wilderness?"
The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.
"They tempted God by murmurs," said Christabel. "They tried His patience by grumbling, when His care and blessings were all round them, and by crying out because all was not just as they liked. Now, dear Bessie, God has shown you what a real sorrow might be; will it not be tempting Him to go back to complaints over what He has ordained for you?"
"I shall net complain now; I shall not care," said Elizabeth. But she took the little bit of paper, and Christabel trusted that she would make use of it, knowing that in this lay her hope of cure; for whatever she might think in this first joy of relief, her little troubles were sure to seem quite as unbearable while they were upon her as if she had never feared a great one.
However, nothing remarkable happened; everyone was bright and happy; but still the influence of their past alarm subdued them enough to make them quiet and well-behaved, both on Saturday and Sunday; and Miss Fosbrook had never had so little trouble with them.
In consideration of this, and of the agitation and unsettled state that had put the last week out of all common rules, she announced on Monday morning that she would excuse all the fines, and that all the children should have their allowance unbroken. Maybe she was moved to this by the suspicion that these four sixpences and three threepennies would make up the fund to the price of a "reasonable pig;" and she thought it time that David's perseverance should be rewarded, and room made in his mind for something beyond swine and halfpence.
Her announcement was greeted by the girls with eager thanks, by the boys with a tremendous "Three times three for Miss Fosbrook!" and Bessie was so joyous, that instead of crying out against the noise, she joined in with Susan and Annie; but they made such a ridiculous little squeaking, that Sam laughed at them, and took to mocking their queer thin hurrahs. Yet even this Elizabeth
"Christabel," said a little voice, when all the others were gone, "I shall never be pipy again."
"You must try to fight against it, my dear."
"Because," said Elizabeth, coming close up to her, "when dear Mamma was so ill, it did seem so silly to mind about not having pretty things like Ida, and the boys plaguing, and so on."
"Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our little discontents."
"I said so many times yesterday, and the day before, that I would never mind things again, if only Mamma would get well and come home," said the little girl; "and I never shall."
"You will not always find it easy not to mind," said Christabel; "but if you try hard, you will learn how to keep from showing that you mind."
"Oh!" said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an oh! it was,) "those things are grown so silly and little now."
"You have seen them in their true light for once, my dear. And now that you have so great cause of thankfulness to God, you feel that your foolish frets and discontents were unthankful."
"Yes," said Bessie, her eyes cast down, as they always were when anything of this kind was said to her, as if she did not like to meet the look fixed on her.
"Well then, Bessie, try to make the giving up of these murmurs your thank-offering to God. Suppose every day when you say your prayers, you were to add something like this--" and she wrote down on a little bit of paper, "O Thou, who hast raised up my mother from her sickness, teach me to be a thankful and contented child, and to guard my words and thoughts from peevishness."
"Isn't it too small to pray about?" said Elizabeth.
"Nothing is too small to pray about, my dear. Do you think this little midge is too small for God to have made it, and given it life, and spread that mother-of-pearl light on its wings? Do you think yourself too small to pray? or your fault too small to pray about?"
Elizabeth cast down her eyes. She did not quite think it was a fault, but she did not say so.
"Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the wilderness?"
The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.
"They tempted God by murmurs," said Christabel. "They tried His patience by grumbling, when His care and blessings were all round them, and by crying out because all was not just as they liked. Now, dear Bessie, God has shown you what a real sorrow might be; will it not be tempting Him to go back to complaints over what He has ordained for you?"
"I shall net complain now; I shall not care," said Elizabeth. But she took the little bit of paper, and Christabel trusted that she would make use of it, knowing that in this lay her hope of cure; for whatever she might think in this first joy of relief, her little troubles were sure to seem quite as unbearable while they were upon her as if she had never feared a great one.
However, nothing remarkable happened; everyone was bright and happy; but still the influence of their past alarm subdued them enough to make them quiet and well-behaved, both on Saturday and Sunday; and Miss Fosbrook had never had so little trouble with them.
In consideration of this, and of the agitation and unsettled state that had put the last week out of all common rules, she announced on Monday morning that she would excuse all the fines, and that all the children should have their allowance unbroken. Maybe she was moved to this by the suspicion that these four sixpences and three threepennies would make up the fund to the price of a "reasonable pig;" and she thought it time that David's perseverance should be rewarded, and room made in his mind for something beyond swine and halfpence.
Her announcement was greeted by the girls with eager thanks, by the boys with a tremendous "Three times three for Miss Fosbrook!" and Bessie was so joyous, that instead of crying out against the noise, she joined in with Susan and Annie; but they made such a ridiculous little squeaking, that Sam laughed at them, and took to mocking their queer thin hurrahs. Yet even this Elizabeth