Jasper

by Mrs. Molesworth

we toss up,Lell?" she went on recklessly. "Heads or tails? I've got twohalfpennies--heads for a house with a garden six feet square, tails fora dirty little pig of a house in--oh, I don't know where to say."

  "I know," said Jasper; "that place where Nurse's cousin lives what makesdresses. I've been there with Nurse. Mummy said I might go. It'squite clean, and there's a sort of gardeny place in the middle, wherethe children was playin'. They didn't look--not _very_ dirty," for ifJasper was anything, he was exceedingly "accurate."

  "Really, Jasper," began Leila. Then she turned to Christabel, "Youdon't think it _could_ be as bad as that, Chrissie?" and the alarm inher soft dark eyes was piteous. "Living in a slum, that would be."Just then Nurse came into the room.

  "What were you saying, Miss Leila, my dear?" she inquired. "Somethingabout a `slum'?"

  "It's what Jasper was saying," said Leila, and she went on to explain.

  Nurse got rather red.

  "It can't be called a slum where my cousin lives," she said. "She's arespectable dressmaker in a small way, and suchlike don't live in slums.Still it won't be as poor a place as that where," she hesitated, andthen went on, "where the new house will be."

  "Jasper's so vulgar," said Chrissie, "the minute you speak of beingpoor, he thinks it means leaving off being ladies and gentlemen."

  "I doesn't," exclaimed the boy indignantly. "Nothin'd made Dads andMums not be ladies and gentlemen--and us too," but the last wordssomewhat less confidently.

  Both the girls laughed.

  "Thank you, Jap," said Leila, "though I don't wonder he doesn't feelquite sure of _you_, Chrissie. You really needn't talk of `vulgar,'with your `heads and tails,' like a street boy."

  A sharp retort was on Christabel's lips, but Nurse hastened to interruptit.

  "What are you so busy about, my dear little boy?" she said, turning toJasper, which made the others look at him also.

  "I'se packin'," was the reply, and then they saw that he was surroundedby his special treasures, in various stages of newness and oldness,completeness and brokenness. "Mums said I might divide them, and theold ones are to go to the ill children; and I'm goin' to pack the othersvery caref'ly, for you see they'll have to last me now till I'm big,"and he gave a little sigh, for in his unselfish, yet childish heart,there _had_ been visions of what future Christmases might bring in theshape of a new stable and stud--"still splendider nor the one I got twobirfdays ago," as he thought to himself.

  Leila drew near him.

  "Shall I help you?" she said. "I've finished my book," she went on,"and I've nothing to do," as if half-ashamed of her unusual good-nature."I say, Japs, you do keep some of your toys a long time. I don't seemany bad enough for the Children's Hospital."

  Jasper's serious blue eyes slowly reviewed his spread-out treasures, butfor a minute or two he did not speak.

  Then he said gravely--

  "There's isn't many broken, but I'd like to give some of the others too.Mumsey won't mind--and pr'aps, you know, I can't send many more, forthese'll have to last me, and I'll get fonder and fonder of them. So Ithink I'd better send a good lot now--don't you think so too, Lelly?"

  His hands strayed lovingly over his beloved horses and dogs, squirrelsand rabbits, each one of which was known to him individually.

  "It's my aminals I care most for," he said. "I want to divide themquick, Lelly, for fear I get greedy and want to keep them all."

  "You can't do that, any way," said Chrissie, who had joined the group."You won't have room in the new house. I daresay there'll be no nurseryat all. Look here, Japs, Nurse can give us one of the clothes-baskets,and we'll put all for the hospital in it for Mums to look over, and thenyou can pack quite comf'ably for yourself," and with the quickness andgood sense she had plenty of when she chose to use them, she helped thelittle fellow in his rather painful task. And once the division wasmade, and the old favourites out of sight, Jasper grew more cheerfulagain, as he murmured to himself, "I daresay they'll be quite happy withthe ill children. They have such nice little white beds."

  How proud Chrissie felt of herself! It was just to be regretted thatNurse could not help saying--

  "Dear me, what a pity you can't always be so kind and helping, MissChrissie," for immediately came the toss of the haughty little head andthe pert reply--

  "I shall do as I choose _always_, Nurse. You might know that, by thistime, I should think."

  "Your father writes that he is coming home to-morrow," said MrsFortescue, the next day. "I am so glad to be feeling better andstronger than when I first got back, for now house-hunting will start ingood earnest. The agents have several chances of letting this, I hear,and we must not lose any."

  "How horrible it is," exclaimed Christabel, and though Leila did notspeak, her face grew very gloomy. Their mother glanced at them withdisappointment.

  "Dears," she said, "I hoped you were going to be so brave and help me tomeet Daddy cheerfully."

  "Really, Mummy," said Chrissie, "I don't see why you should scold usbefore we've done anything naughty."

  "_Scold_ you," repeated their mother. "I don't think you have the leastidea of what the word means, my poor little girl," and she could nothelp smiling a little.

  "Well," persisted the child, "you can't expect us to _like_ going tolive in some horrible poky place."

  Mrs Fortescue thought it best not to answer. She knew too well whatChrissie could be, once a "contrary" fit was on her.

  "Is Aunt Margaret coming too?" asked Leila.

  Her mother shook her head.

  "Not yet," she said. "Poor Aunt Margaret has to stay to see the last ofthings at Fareham. I don't want her to come till we are at least alittle settled. Children," she went on, rousing herself to a newappeal, "my darlings, I know it is hard for you, and it is still harderfor your father and me, _because_ we feel it for all of you; but it ishardest of all for Aunt Margaret to have to leave the place where shehas spent all her life, where she loves every tree and bush as if theywere living things; never to have the joy of welcoming us all there, andarranging our rooms for us, and making us so happy. `The delight of herlife,' she called our visits the other day. It is _awfully_ hard onher. Uncle Percy's death would have been a sad blow at any time, butthe way it came made it ten times sadder. And she is an old woman now,though a good deal younger than he was. Yet I cannot tell you howunselfish she is--how determined to see the bright side of things, howthankful for the blessings we still have."

  The children did not speak. Their mother's words could not but impressthem.

  Then said Chrissie, still with a touch of defiance--"I know she'sawfully good, Mumsey, and we do love her, but you see I don't _pretend_to be good and unselfish and all that. Pr'aps when I get to be old,it'll come somehow."

  Mrs Fortescue smiled a little.

  "I don't want you to `pretend,' Chrissie, most certainly not. I wantyou to _be_. And the longer you put off trying, the harder you willfind it. Goodness does not come all of itself like one's hair gettinggrey. And though it may sometimes seem as if God left us to ourselves,it is not really so. Sorrows and trials may have to be our teachers ifwe allow happiness and prosperity to make us selfish and thoughtless."

  "Well," said Leila gloomily, "perhaps they're beginning now--it doesn'tlook as if there was much to be cheerful about;" and, as often happened,Christabel turned upon her sister, though Leila was only expressing herown discontent in different words.

  "I call _that_ selfish, if you like," she said. "Mumsey has enough tobe worried about without your grumbling."

  "Hush, Chrissie," said their mother, rather wearily. "I think you_will_ both try to help your father and me, but I cannot say any more.I have a great many letters to write, and Miss Earle has kindly offeredto stay later to do some for me. I do want to get them done beforeto-morrow when Daddy comes. So run off now, dears."

  All the children loved their father, though perhaps in a different wayfrom their sweet mother. But he was a very busy man, much engaged
inpublic matters, and till now he had seen but little of them,comparatively speaking, especially of his daughters. But for this,possibly their faults, so greatly owing to over-indulgence andover-gentleness, would not have been allowed to have taken such root.And just at first, on his return home, Mr