Betty's Battles: An Everyday Story

by Harriet Pyne Grove

  CHAPTER IX

  A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE

  "Every one has a right place," thinks Betty, when her morning's work isdone. "Yes, that sounds true enough, but how am I to manage in ourhouse? I wish Captain had explained more about it.

  "Now, let me think--what is my right place? It is my place to be lovingand thoughtful, to strive to help every one, that's what Grannie wouldsay. Well, I am trying to do that. 'It is _not_ your place to judge yourmother,' so said my dear Captain. Of course, it is not. I know that, andyet I suppose that is just what I was doing when I spoke so impatientlyabout her. Mother's place? Have I ever given mother her right place?Have I ever been really loving, really thoughtful for her, reallyobedient?

  "But, then, mother has such old-fashioned notions, and such unpunctualways, and--no, I _won't_ go on; I mustn't think these thoughts--thisisn't giving mother her true place, this isn't keeping to the spirit ofCaptain's words!

  "How sweet Captain is! Her big brown eyes are as clear and kind asGrannie's, and her voice is just the nicest I have ever heard. How Ishould love to be like her, to make all that difference when I went intoa miserable house! Poor Mrs. Smith looked quite bright; and such achange in the children! If I could be an Officer, now, and go aboutmaking people happy, how delightful that would be!"

  Then, with a new and true humility that is only just beginning to makeitself felt in her heart, she adds:--

  "Ah! but I'm not good enough. I'm too impatient, too irritable. No, no,I haven't learnt yet to be a good Soldier--why, I haven't learnt yet howto make _one_ home happy. I must learn to serve with patience. I mustconquer myself; then, perhaps, in the days to come, the Lord will openthe way to me, and I, too, may go into sad homes as a messenger of peaceand love."

  "Betty!" Mother's voice, calling querulously from the first-floorlanding. Betty runs upstairs. Mother has a shawl round her shoulders,and looks very gloomy and upset.

  "Betty, can't you keep the children quiet? My head aches dreadfully, butit's quite useless to try and get any sleep with Jennie and Polliestamping about just over one's head. I sent them up to the attic to beout of the way, and they've done nothing but quarrel eversince--tiresome little good-for-nothings!"

  "Oh, of course, they must come down at once, mother. Shall I send themout for a walk?"

  "No, indeed, they're so dreadfully rough, throwing stones and shoutingthemselves hoarse like a couple of street boys. I don't know what I'vedone, I'm sure, to have such troublesome children."

  Betty fetches her two younger sisters down from the attic, and sendsthem out to play in the small garden-yard at the back of the house. Shehas a great deal of difficulty, for they are both so headstrong andunruly that they will hardly obey at all. At last she persuades them tosettle down to a game of horses, and goes back.

  But five minutes have barely elapsed when mother's voice is heardagain.

  "Betty, what are those children doing? I declare their noise is makingme quite ill!"

  Dismal shrieks from the back of the house confirm her words. Betty fliesto a window and looks out.

  Pollie, screaming with terror, is flying from Jennie, who, with facedistorted with passion, is darting after her--flourishing a big stick,and yelling like a mad girl.

  Betty's heart sinks at the sight. How shameful, how humiliating that hersisters should behave like this! How untaught and untrained they are!

  She runs out breathlessly. She seizes Jennie by the arm. Jennie kicksand screams furiously.

  "I will whip her, I will! She's a bad, wicked girl. She said she wouldstand still if I would let go of her arm, and then she ran away!"

  "'Cos she was going to put a big strap in my mouth, and drive me about,"sobs Pollie, "and I won't have it, I won't!" and, relying on Betty'sprotection, she strikes at her sister in her turn.

  Pollie flying from Jennie.]

  "Pollie! Jennie! Oh, how can you behave so badly? You rude, naughtygirls! Why, you're every bit as bad as the rough boys who play in thestreet. Aren't you ashamed to behave so wickedly? Don't you know thatthe Lord is very sorry when He sees little girls selfish, and rude, andpassionate? You know quite well that poor mother's head is bad, and yetyou make all this noise! Why don't you try to play quietly together?"

  "Nothing to play at," answers Jennie, sulkily. "I'm tired of games; and,besides, games are silly."

  "Then take your knitting, or hem one of the new dusters."

  "Shan't; it's holiday time, and I don't mean to do any work. If Polliewasn't so silly I could play with her all right--screaming and makingall that fuss about nothing."

  "Well, if you can't keep quiet, I shall have to put you to bed--nowremember."

  But to herself Betty thinks, "Now, what would be the right thing to dofor them? Teach them better, I suppose; teach them to be kind andgentle, teach them to be unselfish, to think less of themselves and moreof others."

  The thought is still with her when she returns to her household duties.Suddenly a happy idea strikes her.

  "Ah! I remember how Grannie told me that when she was a girl she usedto invite a number of her little school-friends to her cottage onhalf-holidays; each girl brought a small piece of work with her, a tinypetticoat to sew, a sock to knit, or what not; and they would sew andchat away happily for hours, fancying themselves a real sewing society.

  "The work was not for themselves--Oh, no! Twice every year all thelittle garments were collected and given to the poorer children of thevillage. Now, if these rough, headstrong sisters of mine would only dothat! Is there nothing to make them follow dear Grannie's example?"

  All the rest of that day Betty is thinking over her plan, and at night,ere she goes to rest, she lays the whole matter before the Lord in veryearnest prayer. She is beginning to understand something at last of thereal strength, and comfort, and light, which follows all heart-feltprayer.

  Next morning she awakes with the determination strong within her ofcommencing that very day to win her little sisters to better things.

  The children's summer holidays are just beginning; now is the time tointerest them, to teach and help them; to put higher thoughts intotheir minds, to give their hands unselfish work to do.

  It is a hot afternoon, Jennie and Pollie have been playing togetheraimlessly, breaking out now and again into noisy bursts of passion. Theyare too tired to play any more now, and hot and sulky besides.

  Betty calls them to her.

  "Jennie, Pollie, I want to talk to you about a new way of spending yourholiday afternoons; a really beautiful way. Come into the garden, andI'll tell you all about it."

  The "garden" is only a back-yard, with one dusty tree leaning over thepaling, and a few unhappy-looking flowers. How different from Grannie'sgarden, with its masses of sweet-scented, old-fashioned blossoms; itspure air and clear sunlight!

  Well, well, Betty must not think of that just now. At any rate, the airis fresher here than in the house.

  "Is it a new kind of game? Oh, Betty, do make haste and tell us!"

  "Listen, girls. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago there lived a dear,good woman--a _very_ good woman."

  "What was her name?" demands Pollie.

  "Dorcas. She lived in a little town by the seaside, in a country faraway. Now in this town were many poor widows, who could not afford tobuy clothes enough to keep them warm; and when Dorcas saw this she setto work, and cut out nice coats, and stitched away, and I daresay shecalled her neighbours in to help her, and very soon those poor widowshad new garments all round. How grateful, how delighted they were! Theycouldn't say enough to show their thanks."

  "How do you know? Aren't you just making it up, Betty?"

  "No, indeed; we read about Dorcas, and the poor widows, and their coats,in the Bible itself. Now, why don't you two girls invite two or three ofyour school friends in one afternoon, and pretend to be Dorcas and herneighbours? I'll be Dorcas, if you like, and we'll make little garmentsfor poor widows and fatherless children, and chat together, just asDorcas and her friends did, hundreds and hundre
ds of years ago."

  "Who'll be the widows?" asked Jennie, much interested.

  "Oh, real widows and orphans; just like those Dorcas worked for. Then,perhaps, we could have tea out of doors, and I'll mix some of those nicebuns which Grannie showed me how to make. We would drink our tea out ofmugs, because, in the days when Dorcas lived, no one had cups andsaucers."

  "Oh, that would be lovely!" cry the girls. "Who shall we ask to come,Betty?" adds Jennie alone.

  "Anyone you like--that is, any nice girl."

  "Millie and Ida Davis are both nice as nice. Then there's Flo----"

  "We mustn't have too many at first. Suppose we each invite one friend? Ichoose Minnie White for mine."

  "Oh, Minnie White's always so prim and proper; just because she's anArmy girl; not a bit of fun in her."

  "You're quite wrong, Jennie. Minnie is as full of real fun as she canbe. She doesn't like rough ways, and senseless jokes; but I only wishyou looked one-half as happy as she does! Well, dears, choose the bestand most unselfish girls you know; this is to be a very special kind ofmeeting, you see."

  "Oh, of course; _we_ don't want any nasty, horrid girls like Kitty andLena!"

  "Now, Jennie, do you think that Dorcas would _ever_ have been put in theBible, if she had talked like that about her friends? Why, girls,you'll spoil the whole thing if you don't try to be like her! You'regoing to copy her, aren't you?"

  "Course we are!" assents Pollie.

  Betty mixes the cakes that very evening. She is not a good cook--doesnot like cooking, in fact; but somehow she is feeling very happy.

  "The cakes must be as nice as I can make them. Ah! I must be sure totake a peep to-night into that book of father's, about God's braveSoldiers, in the far-off days when Dorcas really lived; then I shall beable to talk about it all to the girls to-morrow and interest them.

  "If I could only help Jennie and Pollie to understand; if I could reallybring them nearer to the Lord; Oh, what a happy, what a truly blessedthing that would be!"

  The next afternoon is hot again, but there is shade in the dingy garden.A semicircle of chairs has been arranged, and Jennie and Pollie, lookingunusually clean and tidy, with sweet-faced Minnie White, and Millie andIda Davis, are industriously stitching away. It is a critical moment,for "Dorcas," that is, Betty, has just left them alone.

  "What horrid clumsy stitches you are putting in that handkerchief,Pollie," cries Jennie.

  "They're quite as good as yours!" snaps Pollie.

  "They're not!"

  "They are! I'm sure they are!"

  "Oh, dear, please don't!" pleads little Minnie White. "Jennie's stitchesare the best, but then Pollie's are quite as good for her age. And wemust all be very loving and kind, mustn't we? or we shouldn't be theleast bit like Dorcas and her friends."

  Wise Betty to include little Minnie in her first back-yard meeting!

  "Oh, look, here's Betty, I mean Dorcas, with the tea! How good the cakessmell--how thirsty I am! Oh, isn't it just lovely to have it out here?"cry the girls.

  And Jennie and Pollie clap their hands too, and are as happy as therest.