Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER XI.

  TRUTH REWARDED.

  I do not know exactly how long it was before Mr. Dickinson and Ireturned to the house, but the children were there before us, and werealready telling the story of Jessie's griefs to William, who was quiteas much distressed for her, and as angry with his uncle as even Marycould desire. As we entered the piazza where the children stood, I askedfor Jessie.

  "She has gone home," said Harriet.

  "Gone home!" I repeated in surprise.

  "Yes," said William, looking very boldly at his uncle, "and I think shewas very right to go. I would not stay where I was scolded just forbreaking a flower."

  "William!" said Mrs. Temple, in surprise at his violence, for he wasusually very gentle in his temper. Mr. Dickinson folded his arms andlooked at him without speaking, as if he wished to hear all he had tosay before answering him.

  "Well, mother," said William, still trying to speak boldly, though tearswere in his eyes, and he could not prevent the quivering of his lip, "Ido think it was very hard that Jessie should be scolded just for savingmy little sister from being hurt, or maybe killed. I am sure our littleFlora is worth a great deal more than any grand Flora."

  "Saved little Flora!" repeated Mr. Dickinson, "what does the childmean?" looking at me, while I turned to Mrs. Temple for an explanation.

  "William is right," she answered, "in what he says, though very wrong inhis manner of saying it. I am sorry Jessie has gone without my thanks,for, from the account given both by William and the nurse, she hasevinced extraordinary presence of mind for so young a child, and hassaved Flora from a very dangerous fall."

  "Fall from what?"

  "From the large flower-stand which stood near the Cactus, on a shelf ofwhich William seated her while he came to the house for her nurse. Floraclimbed to the top, and would have fallen on the flower, or worse, onthe stake which supported it, had not Jessie saved her."

  "And in saving her broke the flower. I see it all now," said Mr.Dickinson; "but why did not the child tell me so?"

  "I tried to tell you, sir," said Mary, "in the dairy, but you would notlet me."

  Mr. Dickinson colored, as if he was ashamed to remember how angry he hadbeen.

  "And, Miss Mary Mackay, I think you had some intention of telling me astory; of making me believe, if Jessie had let you, that you had brokenthe flower; why was this?"

  Mary hung her head and looked very much ashamed, but answered, "I didnot mean to tell a story, Mr. Dickinson, I only meant to let you thinkit was I, because it was better for you to be angry with me than to beangry with Jessie."

  "You only meant to let me think it was you;--and have you been so illtaught, young lady, that you do not know that in deceiving me by yourlooks and manner, you were as guilty of falsehood as if you had spokenit? But why would it have been better for me to be angry with you thanwith Jessie?"--then, without waiting for an answer, Mr. Dickinson turnedto me and asked, "Did I not understand you, ma'am, that Jessie was toknow nothing of your plans, that I might see how she would behave whenunrestrained by any cautions?"

  "I did tell you so," said I, "and was, I assure you, true to mypromise."

  "Aunt Kitty," said Harriet, "after Jessie had broken the flower, I wasso sorry that I told her and Mary all about it."

  "All about what?" asked Mr. Dickinson.

  "About Aunt Kitty's wanting you to have Mr. Graham for your gardener,sir; and that I thought you would have had him, and have given him thatpretty house and garden, and six hundred dollars a year, if Jessie hadnot hurt any thing."

  "Then Jessie knew all this when she told me what she had done?"

  "Yes, sir, it was this that made Mary want her to let you think she haddone it; but Jessie said she should never feel happy if she did not tellyou the truth, and that she was sure her grandmother would rather goaway than have her tell a story."

  "She is a noble little girl," said Mr. Dickinson, "and her father shallbe my gardener, and have the house and garden, and six hundred dollars,and another hundred besides for Jessie's sake; and if you will excuseme, ma'am, I will order my horse and ride over to Mr. Graham's at once.I may overtake the child."

  How happy Harriet looked--how Mary jumped and danced--how William,springing into his uncle's arms, kissed him, declaring he loved himbetter than he had ever done in his life, you may all imagine without mytelling. As soon as they were still enough for me to be heard, I beggedthat Mrs. Temple would excuse me, and that Mr. Dickinson would order mycarriage and permit me to accompany him, as I would not miss seeingJessie's joyful surprise for any thing.

  The carriage was ordered, and in a very few minutes we were on the roadto Mr. Graham's. We looked eagerly at every turn for Jessie's strawbonnet and plaided gingham dress, but nothing was seen of her. As wecould not overtake her, and did not wish to startle Mr. Graham's familyby driving unexpectedly to his house, we determined to leave thecarriage at mine and walk quietly over. We had gone but a few steps frommy door when we met Mr. Graham. He colored, on seeing Mr. Dickinson,and would have turned off without stopping to speak to us. I was surefrom this, he had seen Jessie and heard her story, and that he felt alittle hurt that Mr. Dickinson should have been so angry with her, foran accident which she could not help. Before he could get out of ourway, Mr. Dickinson was up with him and said, "Excuse me for stoppingyou, Mr. Graham, but I have come to apologize to your little girl for myanger to-day, which I find was very unreasonable. I was told, sir,before she came to my house, that she had been taught to be careful in agarden. I find she has been well taught in more important things. She isa noble child, sir. I shall ask her to appoint my gardener, and if sheoffer the place to her father I hope he will not refuse it, for I shallbe pleased to have in my employment a man so well principled as I amsure he must be."

  Mr. Graham was quite confused, and stood a little while looking at Mr.Dickinson, as if he did not understand him; then seizing his hand, hesaid in a hoarse voice, while his lip trembled like a child's, "Godbless you, sir--God bless you. You have saved me from the greatestsorrow I ever had--not that I minded the money so much, sir, for thankGod, I am strong yet, and could work for it again--but my mother,sir--my poor old mother, it would have killed her, sir. I always thoughtit would, and this morning when I summoned courage to tell her about it,though she tried to talk cheerfully, I saw she was struck down, and Iknew if we went away, we should leave her behind--she would never liveto go--and now, oh sir! I can only say again, God bless you!"

  Mr. Graham could not say another word, for the tears came in spite ofhim, and covering his face with his hands, he turned away from us, as ifhe did not like that we should see him weep. He need not have beenashamed, for I was sobbing, and even Mr. Dickinson's voice trembled ashe said, "It is your daughter you must bless, Mr. Graham; but we willleave you now, sir, for I am quite anxious to make my peace withJessie."

  We both passed on, knowing that Mr. Graham would rather be by himselfwhile he was so agitated.