by Oliver Optic
SUSIE'S TEMPTATION.
No sooner had Annie and Susie made acquaintance with some of the childrenin the neighbourhood than they began to make frequent visits at Mr. Allis'shouse. Both father and mother thought it desirable that the little girlsshould associate with other children; but they dreaded the effect of somuch society and so many new influences on the hearts of the little girls.More than this: there were some among those that visited them frequently,who seemed to be almost any thing but desirable companions for thechildren. Once or twice Mrs. Allis had observed something in the mannersand conversation of Jane Smith which led her to suspect that she was a badgirl. Accordingly, she told Annie and Susie that she wished they would, asmuch as possible, avoid her society. Notwithstanding all she could say,however, Jane was often at the house; and the children became very fond ofher. She could tell so many interesting stories and say so many wittythings, and had so much to communicate that was new to them, that theyseemed almost fascinated by her.
One Saturday afternoon Mrs. Allis was unusually busy, and Jane came to payanother visit. In spite of her cares, she, however, contrived to findamusement for the girls in her own presence. After tea, Jane took herbonnet to go home, and Susie begged permission to walk a short distancewith her, to gather prairie-flowers. Mrs. Allis hesitated, but at lengthgave her consent, specifying the distance which she might go.
Scarcely had they started on their walk, when Jane remarked,--
"I declare! it's mean in your mother to keep you so dreadful close, just asthough you didn't know enough to take care of yourself!"
"Mother isn't mean; and you must not say so, Jane, or I shall go righthome."
"What! You're mad, are you? Well, I'm sure I don't care, if _you_ don't;but I'm glad my mother don't do so, anyway!"
Susie now turned the conversation, and told Jane that Miss Wilson wasmaking new bonnets for her and Annie. After some questions as to what kindof bonnets they were, and how they were trimmed, Jane asked,--
"When are they going to be done?"
"I suppose they are done to-day; but we shall not get them until some timenext week, for it is too late for father to go to-night, and he is verytired besides."
"Why don't you go and get them yourself? I would."
"Oh, it's too far to go."
"Nonsense! It's only two miles."
"But mother did not send me: she would have sent me if she had wished me togo."
"Pooh! she thought you would be afraid to go! I'll warrant she would beglad enough to see the bonnets home. Come along, now! I'll go with you. Youknow you can't go to meeting tomorrow if you don't get your bonnet."
"Oh, yes: we can wear our clean sun-bonnets."
"Wear your sun-bonnet to meeting! I'd stay at home first!"
"I wouldn't stay at home first! But I _would_ like a new bonnet, too. I_would_ go and get it if I thought mother would like it."
"Like it! why, to-be-sure she will! Come along."
With hesitating steps Susie went on. Just before her was the point whichher mother had made the limit of her walk. She felt no desire to disobeyher mother; but the thought of surprising her by bringing home the newbonnets unexpectedly was quite a temptation. Then it would be so pleasantto have them, too; she wanted to see how they looked very much indeed. Whycould she not walk very fast and get back soon? She looked at the sun, tosee how much time there would be. It was almost setting; and sheexclaimed,--
"Jane! I can't go! See; it is almost sundown!"
"It will be light for two hours. There is time enough; we can run, and getback before dark."
"What if I shouldn't get the bonnets after all? What would mother say?"
"You'll get them fast enough; and, even if you don't, you needn't tell her.She'll never know it! Come along!"
Jane had said _one word too many now_. The frightened child had done thebest thing she could have done. The idea of deceiving her mother had putthe matter in an entirely new light, and she ran homeward, without one wordof reply, as fast as her little feet could carry her. As soon as shereached the house she told the story to Annie and Mary, through whom itsoon reached the mother's ears. She had no more occasion to caution herlittle girls to avoid Jane Smith.
"How much our mother knows! Don't she, Susie?" said Annie; "she told uslong ago that Jane was a naughty girl; but we didn't see how it could be!"
* * * * *
THE COLD DAY
Both Susie and Annie Allis had learned a good lesson, and both of themprofited by it. They found, each for herself, how much safer and better itwas to trust their parents and obey their commands, whether they understoodall about them or not. These kind parents often reminded their little onesthat their good Father in heaven knew just what kind of parents he hadgiven the children, and that he required them to yield a willing andcheerful obedience to all their parents' will, unless their commandsinvolved the breaking of his holy law. That this would be the case thelittle girls did not fear, and, taught, as we believe, by the good Spiritfrom above, they tried very hard to _please God_ by _honouring theirparents_.
The winter was quite mild and pleasant, and Mrs. Allis thought best thatAnnie and Susie should continue to attend school as long as the weatherwould permit. It was a long walk for little girls not quite seven yearsold; but when the sky was bright and the path good they did not mind thecold air, for they were warmly clad and full of health and animation; theyran gayly along, scarcely heeding the distance they had to go.
One morning Mr. and Mrs. Allis had occasion to go to a neighbouring town onbusiness, and Mary was left at home alone with the baby. The children rodeto school with their parents, and, when they got out of the wagon at thedoor of the log school-house, Annie said,--
"Will you get back before night, father?"
"Probably not. If we do we will call and take you home."
The morning was somewhat dark and cloudy, and a dense fog settled in thehollows and ravines. Towards noon, however, there was a change; a coldnorth wind began to blow, as it blows nowhere except on the wide openprairies, unless it be on the sea. The clouds soon disappeared and thebright sun shone out clear and bright. Every hour the cold increased, untilit became intense. The school-mistress dismissed the children somewhatearlier than usual and called them all around the huge fireplace to warmthemselves. Then, after she had carefully fastened their cloaks and tippetsand charged them to run home as fast as they could, they started out.
Poor little Annie and Susie had to go alone. None of the children lived inthe direction of their home; and, worse than all, they had the cold, fiercewind directly in their faces. But they thought of no danger while the sunwas shining so brightly; and so on they went, running backwards to keep thewind out of their faces. Somewhat more than half-way home, a little asidefrom the road, lived a family by the name of Staunton. When they were justopposite to the house they found themselves very cold.
"Oh, Annie! do let's go in and warm, ourselves," said Susie; "I am socold!"
"I can't stop, Susie," said Annie; "don't you know mother said we mustn'tstop on the way home from school?"
"Well, I don't think mother would care if we stopped now; I am so verycold. Do you?"
"I don't know; I guess we had better hurry home as fast as we can. It wouldbe hard work to start again, you know."
At this juncture the wind tore away Annie's cloak, and the little girlsforgot their cold hands as they chased it away off towards the pile ofrocks where Annie saw the snake in the summer. Under the shelter of thoserocks they sat down a moment to put on the cloak. Of course, mittens mustbe laid aside, and the little, stiff, benumbed fingers had hard work tofasten the garment, which had lost one of its strings in the encounter withthe rude north wind. When at last it was made fast with a pin, Susiesaid,--
"I am going to rub my hands with snow, Annie! You know Dick Matthews saidthat he could warm his hands with snow when they were cold!"
Both the little ones rubbed their hands with the snow, and again set out,
holding each other firmly by the hand. Several times they repeated theexperiment, baring the little delicate fingers to the biting wind. At lastthey ceased to ache; but the feet were stiff and their limbs tired andweary.
"Do your hands ache now, Susie?"
"No; but my feet do, and my face. Oh, I'm afraid we'll never get home!a'n't you, Annie?"
"It's hard work to walk, and I can hardly stir one step; when I turn myback it seems as if I should fall right down. I do wish Mary would comedown to the field and open the gate! don't you?"
"Yes, I do; for my hands are just as stiff as they can be."
"There come father and mother, Annie; let's wait and ride," said Susie.
"We'd better go and open the gate. See! there comes Mary! A'n't you glad?"
"I can't stay for any thing; I shall run right to the fire! My feet arefreezing, almost," said Susie.
At that moment Mary came. She had been watching for the children, and assoon as they came in sight she laid down the baby and ran to help them comein the house. She set the gate wide open for the wagon, and then hurriedthe girls in to the fire. Soon the parents came in.
"How glad we are to see you, children! We were almost afraid you would befrozen. We tried to get home in time to take you in the wagon. Are not yourhands very cold?"
"Our feet are cold; our hands were, too, but they are not now."
"Not now?" said Mary, hastily drawing off Annie's mittens.
Alas! the little fingers were frozen! Susie's were in the same sadcondition. And now there was a brisk rubbing with snow, and the mostintense suffering as the slow-coming warmth returned to the purple hands.
"Annie," said Mr. Allis, when the pain of the hands was somewhat relieved,"why did you not stop at Mr. Staunton's and warm yourself?"
"Because, father," said Annie, looking up meekly through her tears, "motherhas told us _never to stop on our way home from school, and I always try tomind what she tells us now!"_
THE END.