VII.
_THE "FIRST STEP."_
BUT the spirit had gone from their play for that afternoon; the pool,beside which the dead duckling still lay, had lost its attraction forthem all; and after spending some little time scrambling about over therocks and watching the waves, they concluded to go back to the hotel.
Mabel gave the dead duckling into Nannette's hands to be carried home;but arrived there, she took it at once to her father, and made anhonest confession of the whole affair.
Mr. Walton was a good deal amused at the tragic account she gave of theduckling's death and her own despair; but he did not let her see that,and, praising her for her readiness to make what amends she could, heoffered to go with her to see the formidable Mrs. Clark.
Passing through the hall on the way to Mrs. Clark's quarters, they metMr. Clark, a man as good-natured and easy-going as his wife was sharpand bustling, and inquired of him where that good woman was to be found.
"Wal, she's up to her elbows in a lot of varieties she's fixin' up fortea jest now," answered Mr. Clark, raising his hat with one hand, andscratching his head with the other, as his custom was whenever he madea remark or gave an answer; "an' I donno as she cares to be disturbed.Things is rayther in a chaos round kitchen ways, Mr. Walton. Is thereany thing I could do for you, sir?"
"Here is a little girl," said Mr. Walton, "who feels that she has notdone right, and wants to confess what she has done. Speak to Mr. Clark,my dear."
But poor Mabel, whatever she might wish or be willing to do, couldfind no words beyond "I--I--you--I"--and here she hung her head, andwith gathering tears brought forward the hand which held the deadduckling, which until now she had kept hidden.
"Shall I tell Mr. Clark?" asked her father.
Mabel nodded assent.
"It seems she picked up this duckling and carried it down to the Rocksthis afternoon," said Mr. Walton, "intending to give it a swim in somepool, and then bring it back; but she has handled it too roughly, Isuppose; for when she reached there it was dying. She is very sorrynow, and feels that she did wrong to take it without permission; but Iwill make it all right with you, Mr. Clark, and Mabel will promise notto meddle again with what is not her own."
"Whew!" said Mr. Clark, staring at the duckling as if he had not heardthe latter part of Mr. Walton's speech; "there's two of 'em. Won't mywife be in a takin' though? I found another on 'em lyin' sick underthe currant bushes this arternoon, an' it's dead or dyin' by this time.I see it warn't no use coddlin' it up; 'twas too fur gone, so I let itbe."
"I found this one under the currant bushes," said Mabel, regaining hervoice. "It was just lying there, so that was the way I came to take it."
"Did you, though?" said Mr. Clark; "well, sure enough, it's the verysame fellow I left there. Don't you fret then, child; you've only putit out of its misery a little sooner, for it wouldn't ha' come round noway. 'Tain't no odds about it, Mr. Walton; jes' let it go, and I'll fixit with my old woman so she won't blame the little girl."
Very much relieved, and thankful that she had made up her mind toconfess, Mabel ran away to her mother, receiving permission from Mr.Clark to keep the duckling for the proposed funeral honors. The roarof laughter with which he heard her intentions did not sound verypleasant in her ears, but she was too grateful to escape a scolding tofind fault with the good-natured man.
Mabel had imagined that Belle and Lily would be very much shocked whenthey came home and heard of the fate of the duckling; but they were nothalf as much so as she feared; for she did not fail to tell them thatMr. Clark had said the little bird could not possibly have lived andthriven; and besides, its burial afforded the prospect of a pleasantentertainment for the next day.
"And Maggie and Bessie are coming over to spend the day to-morrow,"said Belle. "Papa had a letter from Mrs. Bradford saying so. We'll waittill they come, shan't we?"
"Yes," said Mabel, "we will; and maybe Maggie would make up some poetryfor us about him."
The promised visit of Maggie and Bessie Bradford made quite a jubilee;and the next morning, when they landed with their papa from the boatwhich had brought them from Newport, they were met on the dock by ahost of eager little friends.
They were soon told the story of the duckling, but as they had only afew hours to spend in the place, and there was much to be seen and todo, Maggie declined to spend any portion of her time in composition,save so much as would answer for the purpose of a short epitaph.
Mabel had sacrificed "the sweetest sugarplum box with the loveliestlady on the cover," to the service of the duckling, and he was tenderlylaid therein. The procession was a large one, comprising not only mostof the children in the house, but several others from the neighboringhotels; and Wagtail was buried with military honors; that is, to thebeating of a drum and tooting of two tin trumpets, after which theassembly sang "Shoo Fly" about the grave.
These imposing ceremonies afforded so much consolation to Mabel thatshe privately informed Belle and Lily that she would like to have aduck funeral every day, only she would not like to be the one to killit.
Maggie also composed a most touching epitaph for him, of mixed poetryand prose, which ran as follows:--
"Oh, pause, and drop a virtuous tear, Whatever footsteps wander here; For here's the body of Wagtail Duck, Whom cruel Death so soon did pluck!
To the memory of Wagtail Duck, Esq., who Died in the fifth day of his age, after A short life in Which he was never known to do wrong and Painful illness. Reader, go and do likewise."
This gem of composition, having been greatly approved by the mourners,was carried to Tom Norris in order that he might print it upon theboard which, by Lily's request, he had prepared for a headstone. Heread it without a smile, gravely shaking his head, and saying,--
"Yes, that is the usual fate of ducks; they are only made to beplucked."
That the inscription excited general admiration after it was printedand put in its place, might be judged from the visits which were paidto it in the course of the day by nearly all the grown people inthe house. But this admiration did not appear to be of a melancholycharacter, as they usually returned from the grave with the broadest ofsmiles on their faces.
This was not observed by Maggie, however, who soon forgot both epitaphand duckling in the various pleasures provided for her entertainment.
Tom Norris had been presented by his grandfather, just before leavinghome, with a very handsome row-boat. This boat had, of course, beenbrought to the sea-shore; for Tom was a great boy now, and so wise andprudent that he was to be trusted to take care of himself and thosewho might be with him. It is true that his mother always gave a sighof relief when she saw him come safely home from rowing; and while hewas out, she would send many an anxious glance over the surface of thesea; but she never objected or interfered with him, and Tom was carefulof her feelings, and did not venture when the sea was rough, lest sheshould be worried or alarmed for his safety.
Mamma never would suffer Lily to go in the boat when Tom went in thedeep water; not that she doubted her brother's care for her, butbecause Lily was such a heedless little thing, so quick and impulsivein all her movements, that she feared some sudden jerk or motion mightsend her into the water. Lily longed for the forbidden pleasure; butshe was so accustomed to a ready obedience that she never thought offretting about it, or worrying her mother to let her go. She did noteven speak of it to Mamie when the latter complained of her mother'sunkindness in not allowing her to go upon the breakwater. Mamma hadsaid that it was not to be, and Lily had no more to say, but strove tocontent herself with the numerous pleasures left to her.
But on this afternoon, as it was an extra occasion on account of thevisit of Maggie and Bessie, dear, kind Tom proposed, and obtained hismother's permission, to take his boat up a little river which came downfrom the back country and crossed the beach, and to give the children arow th
ere.
They were all enchanted at the prospect, and Mamie had leave to go withthe rest, Tom refusing to take her unless she asked her mamma first.
Tom kept his boat tied to a stake on the inner side of the ruinedbreakwater, which shielded it and several others from the force of thewaves when the sea was high, and made a kind of little harbor wherethey might ride in safety.
Soon after dinner Tom gathered his passengers together, the companyconsisting of all our old young acquaintances, Maggie and Bessie,Belle, Lily, Mabel, and Mamie. Walter and Ned Stone were to go withthem, and help Tom row.
Down the road they went, a merry, happy flock, till they reachedthe breakwater, at the lower end of which stood Mr. Powers and Mr.Bradford, awaiting them.
Tom hauled up his boat where the stones had fallen so as to make quitea convenient landing-place, while the other boys ran to bring the oarswhich were left in the care of the storekeeper hard by. The boat rockedup and down on the gentle swell within the shelter of the pier with aregular, undulating motion, which looked very pleasant in the eyes ofthe children, with one exception.
"Tom, my boy," said Mr. Bradford, "I think I'll step in and take an oarwith you as far as the river, if you'll have me."
"Certainly, sir; most happy," answered Tom; and the gentleman steppedinto the boat, which was kept from floating out by the rope which Tomhad noosed about one of the heavy stones of the pier.
"O papa!" said Bessie, "how I do wish I could come in the boat now, andbe rocked up and down that way. I do like it so."
"Come, then," said her father, and, guided by Mr. Powers' hand, thelittle girl made her way over the rugged ruins of the pier, and waslifted by her father into the boat.
"Anybody else want a little tossing about?" asked Tom. "Maggie?" fixinghis laughing eyes on her face, quite sure what her answer would be.
"No--I--thank--you," said Maggie, with long-drawn emphasis on eachword. "Tom, it's very plain that you don't know what sea-sickness is.Oo--o--o!"
"Poor Maggie! she shuddered at the very thought," said Tom.
"Papa, I'd like to go; could I?" asked Belle; and her father put herbeside Bessie.
"Lily?" said Mr. Powers, holding out his hand towards her as he saw howwistful she looked.
But Lily shook her head.
"Mamma has forbidden me to go in the boat when it is on the sea, sir,"she said.
"I think your mamma would not object here, dear, and with Mr. Bradfordin the boat," said Mr. Powers.
"But she might, sir, and I think I'd better not," said obedient Lily."She told me so very spressly not to go; and she only gave me leave torow this afternoon because Tom was going on the river."
"You are a dear, good child," said Mr Powers. "Mamie, are you for theboat?"
Mamie had, until this minute, been standing farther back than theother children, not actually _on_ the breakwater, but as near to theforbidden ground as she could possibly be. She had never been so nearto it before; and I am afraid that if her playmates had not known ofher mother's command, she would have disregarded it altogether. She hadno further thought for it when she heard Mr. Powers invitation, butstarted forward.
"Mamie," said Tom, "did not your mother forbid you to come upon thebreakwater?"
"I can't go in the boat if I don't," pouted Mamie, stopping short whereshe was.
"Go back!" said Tom decidedly; "you cannot come in till you go down tothe river. Stay with Lily and Maggie."
Mamie began to cry, but did not go back.
"Hi, there, you Mamie! come off the breakwater!" said Walter the nextmoment, dashing past her with a pair of oars; and Ned, following withanother, said, "O you disobedient thing! if you're not headstrong. Seeif I don't tell mamma of you."
Mamie drew back, but feeling more than ever discontented and rebellious.
"It's too bad!" she said passionately, as she saw Mabel placed besideBelle and Bessie in the boat. "Everybody else can do every thing theywant to, and I never can, and just for such stupid nonsense. There! Ihave been on the breakwater, and never had a bit of harm happen to me."
"Then you should be thankful for your mercies, and that your sins werenot visited upon you," said Maggie solemnly.
"Yes," said Lily; "and the way you talk about your mother is just toomuch, Mamie."
"My dear children," said Mr. Powers, "do not spoil your afternoon'spleasure by fretfulness and quarrelling. If Mamie has, for a moment,forgotten her mother's orders, we will hope that she will be morecareful another time. Come, we must walk on, or the boat will be at theriver before we are."
But no; Mamie had not forgotten her mother's orders; she had only hopedthat others had done so, and had herself wilfully disregarded them;and she was to find the truth of the old proverb, that "it is only thefirst step that counts." Her "watchword," as she called it, was quiteforgotten or put aside now; it was no longer a check upon her; and shehad made up her mind that she would disobey her mother and go againupon the breakwater at the first opportunity. The disappointment aboutthe boat was more than her wilful little heart could or would bear;and she was indignant to think that the other children should haveany pleasure of which she was deprived. She forgot that Lily had beenobliged to give up the same; but that she had done so in a cheerful,docile spirit, which would not even run the chance of doing that whichher mother would not approve.
So now Lily was gay, light-hearted, and full of spirits, chatteringaway merrily with Maggie and Mr. Powers as they crossed the beach ontheir way to the river where they were to meet the boat; while she,Mamie, came moodily and discontentedly behind, finding the sand heavy,the sun hot, the way "so long," and contriving to pick up half a dozentroubles in the course of the walk.
Things were no better after she was in the boat. It was "no fun on thatstupid river;" the boat was "too crowded," although Mr. Bradford hadleft it now; one "pushed" her, and another "shoved" her; although ifyou had asked the other children, they would probably have said thatit was she herself who did the pushing and shoving; and, in short, shemade herself so disagreeable that Maggie afterwards privately confidedto Bessie that she found Mamie "very much re-dis-improved, and like theMamie of old days."
Her brothers were very much vexed with her, and even threatened to sether upon the river-bank, and leave her there by herself till they wereready to land; a threat which was, at last, carried out after she hadbecome quite unbearable, and destroyed the pleasure of the whole party.
However, it was not much more agreeable to have her shrieking upon theriver-bank than it was to have her grumbling in the boat; and she wastaken in again on promise of better behavior.
This promise she fulfilled by sitting sullenly in her own corner of theboat without opening her lips; but the sounds which had come from thembefore were not so sweet as to make her companions regret her silence.
And for such a trifle Mamie was making herself and all about heruncomfortable; for the sake of this one forbidden pleasure set againstso many comforts and enjoyments, she had forgotten, or wilfully put outof sight, all her good resolutions, and the remembrance of that Eyewhich watched every thought and feeling of her heart.
And yet, perhaps it was the consciousness of this, the guilty, uneasyconscience, which helped to make her so fretful and irritable, so hardto please, and captious to all about her. She was more ready, as wehave seen, to test the conduct of others by her "watchword" than shewas her own, now that the first novelty of it had worn off; but shecould not quite put away the reproachful echo in her own heart.
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