often, during school-hours on monday, the promised visit to owen m'grath's came into lucy's mind, and she longed for four o'clock to come, that she might be at liberty. school was over at last, and with the pleasant consciousness of having done well the duties of the day, lucy tripped towards home. julia staples had tried several times to draw her into a whispered conversation, but she had resisted the temptation; and when julia offered her an apple, and put her arm in hers, to draw her aside for a confidential chat, lucy refused the gift and got away as soon as she could with politeness. she had learned that the first step towards doing right, is to keep as much as possible out of the way of temptation; and she knew that julia's society roused her evil feelings.
"dear me, how stuck-up somebody is!" said julia staples to one of her companions, as lucy turned away.
lucy heard the remark, and her face flushed slightly, but she made no reply.
julia did not offer to accompany lucy home, but with two of the scholars, who were much like herself, she walked behind the little girl, "making fun of her." of this lucy knew nothing. lightly and rapidly she walked along, not looking behind her, but welcoming each turn in the road that brought her nearer home.
rosa and harty were standing at the door to meet her. "i do believe you were kept in," began harty; "we have been waiting for you this half-hour."
"come, come! young gentleman," interposed rosa playfully, "you are in such a hurry to wait on the ladies, that the time seems long to you. it is but five minutes past four."
the teased, fretted expression that was coming over lucy's face passed away in an instant, and harty's impatience was changed to a smile.
the children, set off together in high spirits. even rosa, although she know she was going to the house of mourning, caught something of their spirit, and chatted cheerfully by the way.
dr. vale was just driving up to owen's door when they arrived.
"that's right! all punctual," said he, as he alighted; and when he looked upon their bright faces, he felt thankful that his little group had been so far spared from sickness and death. the happy young voices were hushed in an instant, as they entered the dark, quiet room, into which the street-door opened. there was but a little furniture, and that of the plainest sort, yet all was neat and tidy. the pale, lifeless form of the mother was stretched upon the bed, and close at its side there nestled a sleeping infant, rosy with health.
the little girl, who was sitting beside them, her head on her hands, jumped up as the strangers came in. she instantly recognised the doctor, and said, in a low voice, "won't the docther plase to be sated, and the young gintleman and ladies?"
noiselessly she put forward the chairs, and whispered as she did so, "whisht! the poor babby has been grievin' so i could not hush him at all, and sorra a bit would he sleep till i laid him there by poor mammy, and then he cuddled up to her cold side and seemed quite contint."
"poor baby!" said rosa, the tears in her eyes.
they all drew near to the bed, and looked into the face of the dead. harty gave one glance and then stepped to the door; he could not bear it; he felt a choking in his throat to which he was quite unaccustomed.
as rosa and lucy looked upon the calm, sweet expression of the face, they felt no chill of horror. death seemed less terrible to lucy than it had ever done before. "she is happy now?" half questioned she of rosa.
rosa looked puzzled, but the doctor replied, "yes, she is happy. 'i'm going home,' were her last words. she has only gone to be with the friend whom she has served faithfully through life."
"did you say mammy was happy?" asked judy, the little girl who had been acting as nurse.
"happy with the angels in heaven," was the doctor's reply.
"then i'd not want her back again, to be sorrying here. little peace she's had, with that misery in her side, for many a day. why, the lifting of larry there, was enough to make her all put to it for an hour. poor fayther, he can't get along with it all: sorra a bit has he tasted to-day, and he cried fit to break his heart when he went away to work this morning; but he said he must go, for he'd niver a sixpence to pay for the burying."
the poor little girl had been so long alone that it seemed to be quite a relief to her to talk to some one who felt for her.
"you'll be a comfort to him, i know," said rosa, gently.
"i'll lave nothing untiched that i can turn my hand to," answered judy, earnestly.
the talking, although it was in a low voice, waked larry, and he began to moan piteously. he put out his hand, touched the cold face near him, and then drew it quickly away. he half-raised his head, but seeing that it was his mother's cheek that had so startled him, he again put forth his hand and patted her gently until he was again asleep.
"and what will poor larry do when they lay her in the cold ground?" said little judy, half crying.
"he will soon be comforted," whispered rosa: "god will take care of you both. it must have been a long time since your mother has been able to sew," she continued, to divert judy's mind from her trouble.
"ach! yes. she has not set a stitch for two months gone; and there's larry, with sorra a bit of clothes but them he has on, savin' this thrifle of a frock that i've been trying to wash for the burying."
as she said this she put her hand on a little faded calico frock that was hanging near the window.
"i think we can get some clothes for larry," said rosa: "may i take this home with me for a pattern?"
judy looked a little confused, but she answered, "sartainly, miss."
"can you sew, judy?" asked rosa.
"i never was learnt," was judy's reply.
"would you like to have me teach you? if you would, you may come to me every saturday morning, and i will show you how."
judy's eyes brightened, and she was going to accept the offer very gladly, when she thought of larry, and changed her mind.
"i can't lave larry; there's nobody but me to mind him now."
"you may bring him with you; i know lucy here will take care of him," said rosa.
"oh yes, i will, if he won't be afraid to stay with me," said lucy.
before they left the house it was agreed that judy should come the next saturday morning for her first lesson in sewing, if her father did not object.
dr. vale, who had been standing without the door with harty, met the girls as they came out. he stepped back when judy was alone, and placed some money in her hand, telling her to give it to her father, and say to him, that his children should not want for a friend while dr. vale was in the neighbourhood.
judy curtseyed, and spoke her thanks as well as she was able, but they were not heard, for the doctor hurried away, and in a few moments had driven from the door.
very little was said on the way home. as they passed an old house, with a rough, high fence about it, harty told his sisters that this was where the people had been sick with small-pox.
lucy clasped rosa's hand a little closer, and they both stopped more rapidly.
"father says nobody need be afraid, for they have all got well, and nobody took it from them," said harty.
notwithstanding this assurance, all the party felt more easy when the house with the high fence was out of sight.
"let us stop here and buy the cloth for larry's frocks," said rosa, as they reached the village shop.
while rosa was looking at some cheap woollen cloth, harty was fumbling in his pockets. he drew out some marbles, an old knife, a peg-top, and some bits of string, and at last he found what he was seeking—a half-crown, with which he had intended to buy some new fishing-tackle. he gave one longing look at the money, and then handed it to rosa, saying, "take that for the cloth."
"yes," said she, very quietly; but a bright, loving smile was on her face, and harty felt, happy, although he was blushing as if he had been in mischief. like many boys, harty seemed to feel more ashamed when he did right than when he did wrong.
when the children were gathered round the table in the evening, rosa brought out the old dress, and was just putting the scissors to it when mrs. maxwell exclaimed, "what are you doing, child? are you going to cut that dress to pieces?"
"i was going to rip it for a pattern," answered rosa, mildly.
"i suppose you think i could not cut out a frock nice enough for a little paddy boy," said mrs. maxwell.
"oh no, i did not think that!" rosa replied, smiling; "i should be very glad to have you help us."
mrs. maxwell took the scissors, and the frocks were soon cut out, much to rosa's relief, for although she had resolved to do it, it was her first attempt at dressmaking, and she was afraid that she should only spoil the cloth.
then the sewing commenced, and the needles flew so fast that there was little time for talking. lucy was allowed to make the skirt, and she sewed it as carefully as if it had been an apron for her doll, and that was very nicely. mrs. maxwell put on her spectacles and began to sew too, much to rosa's surprise; and once she offered to turn the hem for lucy, when she saw that she was troubled. it seemed as if the work they were doing put them all in a good humour, for every face was bright and happy. even harty felt as if he had something to do in the business, and instead of fidgeting about as usual, annoying everybody, he sat very still for some time, doing no harm, but breaking off thread from the ball and tying it into knots. at last he said, "shall i read to you?"
"yes, do," said rosa and lucy, both at once.
"well, i will, if lucy will get my natural history off my table."
lucy jumped up in a moment, and ran for the book: the hall-lamp showed her the way until she got to the room door, and then, by the faint starlight, she easily found the volume. there were other books which rosa would have preferred, and harty was a very dull reader; but she listened patiently, and got quite interested at last in an account of an elephant that went mad in london, a favourite story with harty.
lucy was very sorry when bed-time arrived; but there was not a word to be said, for mrs. maxwell put the lamp in her hand, and bade her "good night" most decidedly.
as lucy entered her own pretty room, she thought of little judy watching beside her dead mother in that poor cottage, and she wondered that it had never struck her before that god had surrounded her with so many blessings.
judy's washing had not been very well done, and as rosa thought best to send back the little frock as soon as possible, she was in haste to have it made clean.
after lucy had gone to bed, she went to the kitchen with it in her hand. old betsy was sitting by the fire, looking very stupid and cross. rosa was almost afraid to ask her to do what she had intended. she took courage, however, and said, "betsy, i want you to wash this little frock for a poor boy who has no other to wear but the one he has on. i know you would be glad to do it, if you had seen the poor little fellow lying by his dead mother: he has nobody at home to wash his clothes now."
betsy had looked very sour when rosa commenced, but softened as she continued to speak, and when rosa finished, she took the little frock in her hand, saying, "i suppose i shall ketch something, handling this thing, but i can't say no to you, for you are the image of your mother."
"thank you, betsy," said rosa; "i hope i may be like my mother. you need not do the frock to-night; it will be time enough in the morning. the funeral is not till three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, and i can get harty to take it down after school."
"i guess master harty will not be running for anybody," said betsy to herself, as rosa went up stairs; but she was wrong: harty did go, and took with him, besides, a penny cake, that he had bought for larry.
