The Stokesley Secret [70]
stranger at this dear old home! and seeing no mother, no Susie, nor any of them, for years together--probably not his father after the first voyage! However, the sailor was too strong in Sam for that grief not to pass off; and his chief trouble was the sense of supplanting Henry. He knew the disappointment would be most bitter; and he could not get rid of the sense of having taken an unfair advantage of the disgrace of Henry's adventure. As to his father's manner, he got over that more easily, for his conscience was free; he knew that the tone of displeasure would be gone at the next meeting, and he was too sure of his own love of the sea to fear that he should not show it enough. After all, he was to be a naval cadet! He could not be sorry. Nay, he felt he had his wish; the very wish he had thought it wrong to put into a prayer. He thought he ought to be thankful that it was granted, in the same way as he had been when his mother began to recover. So he put his hands together, and looked up into the summer blue sky through the leaves, and his lips moved, as he whispered his thanks, and asked to be helped in being a good brave sailor, and that something as good might happen to poor Henry.
After this, somehow, the weight was gone, he knew not where. All he recollected was, that he should see Mamma in two days, and that he was to sail with Papa if he could get through his examination. There was a sort of necessity of doing something comical; and just then spying Miss Fosbrook with a book walking slowly below, he could not resist the temptation of sending down on her a shower of little hard pears and twigs.
Bob came one down on her book, and another on her bonnet. She looked up, and saw a leg stretching out for a branch, apparently in such a dangerous manner, that she did not know whether she should not have Sam himself on her head next, and started back, watching as he swung himself from branch to branch, and then slid down, embracing the trunk.
"Did I hit you!" said he. "I couldn't help trying it; it was such fun."
It was a great liberty; but she was so good-humoured as to laugh, and said he had taken good aim.
"Please, Miss Fosbrook," next said he, "would you hear how many propositions I can say!" And as she opened her eyes at this holiday amusement, he added, "Papa has got the appointment after all, and means me to have it."
"I am so glad, Sam! I give you joy!" she said, and took his hand to shake it heartily.
"I wish Hal could go too," said Sam.
"Dear Sam," she said kindly, and guessing his feelings, as having gone along with them, "I don't wonder you are sorry for him; but indeed I think it is better for him to be sheltered from beginning real life just now."
"Papa said he would not have taken him," said Sam; "but it seems so hard to have all his life changed for a thing that sounds worse than he meant it to be."
"Sam," said Miss Fosbrook, "I once read a sermon, that said that our conduct in little things does decide the tenor of our lives. You know one moment of hastiness cost Moses the Promised Land; and only a little while ago, we heard how Joash had but few victories allowed to him, because he did not think it worth while to strike the ground as often as Elisha told him. It is the little things that show whether we are to be trusted with great."
"It is such a tremendous punishment," said Sam, "when he would have put it back again."
"My brother knew a banker's clerk who was transported for borrowing what he meant to put back again. No, Sam; people must bear the result of their doings; and your father judges for Hal as much in kindness as in anger."
"I know he knows best."
"You may see it as well as trust. With all his grand talk, do you really think that Hal would not be upset at the first hardship, or that he could face bullying or danger? Remember the bull, that was at least a vicious cow, and turned out to be a calf."
Sam could not help laughing, as he said, "Yes, that would never do at sea; and he would be done for if he were cowardly there. But I
After this, somehow, the weight was gone, he knew not where. All he recollected was, that he should see Mamma in two days, and that he was to sail with Papa if he could get through his examination. There was a sort of necessity of doing something comical; and just then spying Miss Fosbrook with a book walking slowly below, he could not resist the temptation of sending down on her a shower of little hard pears and twigs.
Bob came one down on her book, and another on her bonnet. She looked up, and saw a leg stretching out for a branch, apparently in such a dangerous manner, that she did not know whether she should not have Sam himself on her head next, and started back, watching as he swung himself from branch to branch, and then slid down, embracing the trunk.
"Did I hit you!" said he. "I couldn't help trying it; it was such fun."
It was a great liberty; but she was so good-humoured as to laugh, and said he had taken good aim.
"Please, Miss Fosbrook," next said he, "would you hear how many propositions I can say!" And as she opened her eyes at this holiday amusement, he added, "Papa has got the appointment after all, and means me to have it."
"I am so glad, Sam! I give you joy!" she said, and took his hand to shake it heartily.
"I wish Hal could go too," said Sam.
"Dear Sam," she said kindly, and guessing his feelings, as having gone along with them, "I don't wonder you are sorry for him; but indeed I think it is better for him to be sheltered from beginning real life just now."
"Papa said he would not have taken him," said Sam; "but it seems so hard to have all his life changed for a thing that sounds worse than he meant it to be."
"Sam," said Miss Fosbrook, "I once read a sermon, that said that our conduct in little things does decide the tenor of our lives. You know one moment of hastiness cost Moses the Promised Land; and only a little while ago, we heard how Joash had but few victories allowed to him, because he did not think it worth while to strike the ground as often as Elisha told him. It is the little things that show whether we are to be trusted with great."
"It is such a tremendous punishment," said Sam, "when he would have put it back again."
"My brother knew a banker's clerk who was transported for borrowing what he meant to put back again. No, Sam; people must bear the result of their doings; and your father judges for Hal as much in kindness as in anger."
"I know he knows best."
"You may see it as well as trust. With all his grand talk, do you really think that Hal would not be upset at the first hardship, or that he could face bullying or danger? Remember the bull, that was at least a vicious cow, and turned out to be a calf."
Sam could not help laughing, as he said, "Yes, that would never do at sea; and he would be done for if he were cowardly there. But I