The Stokesley Secret [64]
the baby-house."
"I expected nothing else," said the Captain gravely. "What has become of Bessie?"
"She ran up-stairs. May I go and call her?" said Susan.
"I will go myself," said her father.
He found Elizabeth in the school-room, all flushed and tear-stained in the face; and he told her affectionately how much pleased he was with her patience under this false accusation. Delight very nearly set her off crying again, but she managed to say, "It was Miss Fosbrook and Sam and Susie that made me patient, Papa; they were so kind. And nobody would have believed it, if I wasn't always cross, you know."
"Not cross now, my little woman," he said smiling.
"Oh! I said I never could be cross again, now Mamma is better; but Miss Fosbrook says I shall sometimes feel so, and I do believe she is right, for I was almost cross to Georgie to-day. But she says one may FEEL cross, and not BE cross!"
He did not quite know all that his little girl was thinking of; but he patted her fondly, and said, "Yes, there is a great deal to be thankful for, my dear; and I shall trust to you elder ones to give your Mamma no trouble while I am afloat."
"I will try," said Bessie. "And please, Papa, would you tell Nurse about it? She doesn't half believe us, and she is so tiresome about Miss Fosbrook!"
"Tiresome! what do you mean?"
"She always thinks what she does is wrong, and she puts nonsense into Johnnie's head, and talks about favourites. Mary told Susan it was jealousy."
The Captain spoke pretty strongly to Nurse Freeman that evening, but it is doubtful if she were the better for it. She was a very good woman in most things, but she could not bear that the children should be under anyone but herself; and just as Henry lost the truth by inaccuracy, she lost it by prejudice.
Miss Fosbrook was glad to get away from the dining-room, where it was rather awful to sit without her work and be talked to by Mr. Merrifield, even though she liked him much better than she had expected.
When David came to bed, she sat by him and talked to him about his angry unforgiving spirit. She could not but think he was in a fearful temper, and she tried hard to make him sorry for his brother, instead of thirsting to see the disappointment visited on him; but David could not see what she meant. Wicked people ought to be punished; it was wicked to steal and tell stories, and he hoped Henry would be punished, so as he would never forget it, for hindering poor Hannah from getting her pig.
He would not understand Henry's predicament; he was only angry, bitterly angry, and watching for vengeance. Miss Fosbrook could not reason or persuade him out of it, nor make him see that he could hardly say his prayers in such a mood. Indeed, he would rather have gone without his prayers than have ceased to hope for Henry's punishment.
Perhaps in this there was sense of justice and indignation against wrong doing, as well as personal resentment. Miss Fosbrook tried to think so, and left him, but not without praying for him, that a Christian temper of forgiveness might be sent upon him.
All the others were subdued and awe-struck. It was not yet known what was to happen to Henry; but there was a notion that it would be very terrible indeed, and that Uncle John would be sure to make it worse; and they wished Miss Fosbrook good-night with very sad faces.
CHAPTER XIV.
Nothing had as yet befallen Henry, for he came down to breakfast in the morning; but his father did not greet him, and spoke no word to him all the time they were in the room together. The children felt that this was indeed terrific. Such a thing had never befallen any of them before. They would much rather have been whipped; and even David's heart sank.
Something, however, was soon said that put all else out of his sisters' minds. The Captain turned to them with his merry smile, saying, "Pray what would Miss Susie and Miss Bessie say to coming up to London with me to see Mamma?"
The two girls bounded upon their chairs; Susan's eyes grew round, and
"I expected nothing else," said the Captain gravely. "What has become of Bessie?"
"She ran up-stairs. May I go and call her?" said Susan.
"I will go myself," said her father.
He found Elizabeth in the school-room, all flushed and tear-stained in the face; and he told her affectionately how much pleased he was with her patience under this false accusation. Delight very nearly set her off crying again, but she managed to say, "It was Miss Fosbrook and Sam and Susie that made me patient, Papa; they were so kind. And nobody would have believed it, if I wasn't always cross, you know."
"Not cross now, my little woman," he said smiling.
"Oh! I said I never could be cross again, now Mamma is better; but Miss Fosbrook says I shall sometimes feel so, and I do believe she is right, for I was almost cross to Georgie to-day. But she says one may FEEL cross, and not BE cross!"
He did not quite know all that his little girl was thinking of; but he patted her fondly, and said, "Yes, there is a great deal to be thankful for, my dear; and I shall trust to you elder ones to give your Mamma no trouble while I am afloat."
"I will try," said Bessie. "And please, Papa, would you tell Nurse about it? She doesn't half believe us, and she is so tiresome about Miss Fosbrook!"
"Tiresome! what do you mean?"
"She always thinks what she does is wrong, and she puts nonsense into Johnnie's head, and talks about favourites. Mary told Susan it was jealousy."
The Captain spoke pretty strongly to Nurse Freeman that evening, but it is doubtful if she were the better for it. She was a very good woman in most things, but she could not bear that the children should be under anyone but herself; and just as Henry lost the truth by inaccuracy, she lost it by prejudice.
Miss Fosbrook was glad to get away from the dining-room, where it was rather awful to sit without her work and be talked to by Mr. Merrifield, even though she liked him much better than she had expected.
When David came to bed, she sat by him and talked to him about his angry unforgiving spirit. She could not but think he was in a fearful temper, and she tried hard to make him sorry for his brother, instead of thirsting to see the disappointment visited on him; but David could not see what she meant. Wicked people ought to be punished; it was wicked to steal and tell stories, and he hoped Henry would be punished, so as he would never forget it, for hindering poor Hannah from getting her pig.
He would not understand Henry's predicament; he was only angry, bitterly angry, and watching for vengeance. Miss Fosbrook could not reason or persuade him out of it, nor make him see that he could hardly say his prayers in such a mood. Indeed, he would rather have gone without his prayers than have ceased to hope for Henry's punishment.
Perhaps in this there was sense of justice and indignation against wrong doing, as well as personal resentment. Miss Fosbrook tried to think so, and left him, but not without praying for him, that a Christian temper of forgiveness might be sent upon him.
All the others were subdued and awe-struck. It was not yet known what was to happen to Henry; but there was a notion that it would be very terrible indeed, and that Uncle John would be sure to make it worse; and they wished Miss Fosbrook good-night with very sad faces.
CHAPTER XIV.
Nothing had as yet befallen Henry, for he came down to breakfast in the morning; but his father did not greet him, and spoke no word to him all the time they were in the room together. The children felt that this was indeed terrific. Such a thing had never befallen any of them before. They would much rather have been whipped; and even David's heart sank.
Something, however, was soon said that put all else out of his sisters' minds. The Captain turned to them with his merry smile, saying, "Pray what would Miss Susie and Miss Bessie say to coming up to London with me to see Mamma?"
The two girls bounded upon their chairs; Susan's eyes grew round, and