uzz, buzz, buzz!—“there’s a bee in a web!” cried tom, looking up from the bowl of porridge which he was eating in the rose-covered porch.
“poor thing!” said minnie, rising from her seat.
“a precious fright it must be in! what a noise it makes!” cried her brother.
“it is not much entangled—i think that i could set it free!”—and minnie ran up to the web.
“and be stung for your pains. nonsense—leave it alone. it is good fun to watch it in its struggles.”
[47]
poor sipsyrup in a snare.
“it never can be good fun to see any creature in misery,” replied minnie; and with the help of a little twig, in a very short time poor sipsyrup was released from the web.
“poor little bee!” said minnie, “it has hurt its wing, and some of the web is still clinging to its legs. i am afraid that it cannot fly.”
“i hope that it will sting you!” laughed tom. “are you going to nurse and pet it here, and get up an hospital for sick bees?”
“i think that it must belong to our school-mistress’s hive. i will carry it there,[48] and put it by the opening, and let its companions take care of it.” and notwithstanding tom’s scornful laugh, minnie bore off the bee on her finger.
“you are the most absurd girl that i ever knew,” said he on her return. “what does it matter to you what becomes of one bee? i should not mind smothering a whole hive!”
“ah, tom,” said his sister, “when there is so much pain in the world, i do not think that one would willingly add ever so little to it. and i have a particular feeling about animals. you know that they were placed under man, and given to man, and they were all so happy until—until man sinned; now, innocent as they are, they share his punishment of pain and of death; and it seems hard that we should make that punishment more bitter!”
“then my tender-hearted sister would never taste mutton, i suppose.”
“no; the sheep are given to us for food;[49] but i would make them as happy as i could while they lived. o tom, we are commanded in the bible to be ‘tender-hearted,’ and ‘merciful,’ and surely to be cruel is a grievous sin!”
[50]
minnie and the bee.
[51]“i wonder that you did not crush the spider that would have eaten up your bee.”
“why should i? she did nothing wrong. it is nature that has taught her to live on such food; i would be merciful to spiders as well as to bees.”
“you carried off her dinner—she would not thank you for that.”
“perhaps i did foolishly,” said minnie with a smile; “but i cannot see a creature suffering and not try to help it.”
“i wish that you saw the green-grocer’s horse with his bones all starting through his skin, and the marks of the blows on his head. what would you say to the master of that horse?”
“oh, i wish that he would remember that one verse from the bible, ‘blessed are[52] the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’ without mercy, what would become of the best—without mercy, we all should be ruined for ever. and if only the merciful can obtain mercy, oh! what will become of the cruel?”
“pshaw!” cried tom, not able to dispute the truth of minnie’s words, but not choosing to listen to them, for he had too many recollections of bird-nesting, cockchafer-spinning, and worrying of cats, to make the subject agreeable. some find it easier to silence an opponent with a “pshaw!” than by reason or strength of argument; and this was tom’s usual way. he did not wish to continue the conversation, and, perhaps with a view to change its subject, said in a sudden, abrupt tone, as he stirred his porridge with his pewter spoon—
“you’ve not put a morsel of sugar in my bowl.”
“yes, indeed, i put some,” replied minnie.
[53]“but you know that i like plenty; i have told you so a thousand times.”
“but, dear tom, i have not plenty to give you—we have nearly come to the end of our little store. and you know,” continued she, lowering her voice, “that we cannot buy more until we are paid for these shirts.”
the little girl did not add that for the last three days she had not tasted any sugar herself.
“nonsense!” cried tom, starting up from his seat, and hastily entering the cottage. he took down from the shelf a large broken cup, which was used to contain the store of sugar. mrs. wingfield was lying asleep in the back-room, being laid up with a worse headache than usual.
fearing lest her mother should be roused from her sleep, minnie followed her brother, her finger on her lip, a look of anxious warning on her face. but both look and gesture were lost upon tom, who was thinking of nothing but himself.
[54]“here’s plenty for to-day,” he said in a careless tone, emptying half the supply into his bowl.
“but, tom—our poor mother—she is ill, you know—”
“well, i’ve not taken it all.”
“but we cannot afford—”
“don’t torment me!” cried tom angrily, helping himself to more.
“oh, dear tom,” said the little girl, laying her hand upon his arm.
“i’ll not stand this nonsense!” exclaimed the boy fiercely; and turning suddenly round, he flung the rest of the sugar into the dusty road. “there—that serves you right; that will teach you another time to mind your own business and leave me alone;” and noisily setting down the empty cup, the boy sauntered out of the cottage.
something seemed to rise in minnie’s throat; her heart was swelling, her cheek was flushed with mingled sorrow and indignation. oh, how much patience and meekness[55] we require to meet the daily little trials of life!
minnie was roused by her mother’s feeble, fretful voice. “i wish that you and tom had a little more feeling for me. you have awoke me with your noise.”
“i am sorry that you have been disturbed, dear mother; i’ll try and not let it happen again. do you feel better now?”
“no one feels better for awaking with a start,” returned mrs. wingfield peevishly. “i should not have expected such thoughtlessness from you.”
minnie’s eyes were so brimful of tears that she dared not shut them, lest the drops should run over on her cheek. she knew that her mother would not like to see her cry, so, turning quietly away, she went to the small fire to make a little tea for the invalid.
there was nothing that mrs. wingfield enjoyed like a cup of warm tea; and when minnie brought one to the side of her bed,[56] with a nice little piece of dry toast beside it, even the sick woman’s worn face looked almost cheerful. as soon, however, as she had tasted the tea, she set down the cup with a displeased air.
“you’ve forgotten the sugar, child.”
“not forgotten, mother, but—but i have none.”
“more shame to you,” cried mrs. wingfield, her pale face flushing with anger; “i am sure that a good deal was left this morning. you might have thought of your poor sick mother; she has few enough comforts, i am sure.”
poor minnie! she left the room with a very heavy heart; she felt for some minutes as if nothing could cheer her. angry with her brother, grieved at her mother’s undeserved reproach, as she again sat down to work in the little porch, her tears fell fast over her seam. presently conscience, that inward monitor to whose advice the little girl was accustomed to listen, began to make[57] itself heard. “this is foolish, this is wrong,—dry up your tears, they can but give pain to your sick mother. you must patiently bear with the fretfulness of illness, and not add to its burden by showing that you feel it. you know that you have not acted selfishly, you need not regret your own conduct in the affair,—is not that the greatest of comforts? but i know very well,” still conscience whispered in her heart, “that you never will feel quite peaceful and happy till no anger remains towards your brother. a little sin disturbs peace more than a great deal of sorrow; ask for aid to put away this sin.”
minnie listened to the quiet voice of conscience, and gradually her tears stopped and her flushed cheek became cool. she made a hundred excuses in her mind for poor tom. he had been always much indulged,—he would be sorry for what he had done,—how much better he was than other boys that she knew, who drank, or swore, or stole.[58] and for herself, what a sin it was to have felt so miserable! how many blessings were given her to enjoy! she had health, and sight, and fingers able to do work; and neither she nor her mother had difficulty in procuring it, the ladies around were so kind. then there was the church, and the school, and the best of books;—and the world was so beautiful, with its bright sun and sweet flowers,—there was so much to enjoy, so much to be thankful for! and minnie raised her eyes to the blue sky above, all dotted over with rosy clouds; for it was the hour of sunset, and she thought of the bright happy place to which her dear father had gone, and how she might hope to join him there, and never know sorrow again. what wonder, with such sweet thoughts for her companions, if minnie’s face again grew bright, and she worked away in her little porch with a feeling of peace and grateful love in her breast which a monarch might have envied.
