Czytaj książkę: «The Pearl of Peace: or, The Little Peacemaker», strona 5

"Well," he said, "for your sake, I will. You always have everything your own way, you know."

"Look here, Bill," he exclaimed, walking back to the fence where his companion stood, and holding out his hand, "I was wrathy and called you names you didn't deserve. Hatty thinks I ought to ask your pardon."

"Oh, Ethel! don't tell him that. You owned you were sorry first."

"So I am; and if Bill will say quits, I'll do him as good a turn some other time."

"All right," said Bill, giving his hand.

"Here, Hatty," cried Ethel, "you must shake hands too. You're better than Squire Morse to settle up quarrels."

She laughed and blushed, giving her little hand first to one, and then to the other.

"Now promise me," she said, "that you'll never quarrel again."

"That's pretty steep. I wouldn't dare venture," cried Ethel, growing very red.

"Oh!" urged Hatty, "I always thought you two the bravest boys in school. Such good scholars ought to be brave."

"I promise to try to be peaceable," answered Bill.

"And I'll agree to think of you, Hatty Maynard, when I want to call hard names. I guess that will cool off the hot blood."

"You must think of somebody better than I am," she urged, growing very serious. "Don't you recollect what the minister said, about living in peace? And the Bible tells us, to 'follow peace with all men,' to 'follow after the things that make for peace.' Esther says that means, we must be kind and affectionate, one to another; we must show our companions that we love them; and if we ever do wrong, we must ask forgiveness as you did, Ethel. I think Bill was real generous to forgive so quick; but I knew he would, if you told him how sorry you were."

"Come on, Bill," exclaimed Ethel, laughing. "I guess we sha'n't be fighting again in a hurry, after all the compliments we've had to-day."

The next morning, when Hatty went down from her unfurnished attic to make a fire in the stove, she found a string of nice, fresh fish laid on the kitchen table. There was a small piece of soiled paper tied to the end of the string, on which was written in a school boy's hand, —

"For Hatty Maynard, peace-maker to the town of Shrewsbury; from Ethel and Bill."

"'Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God,'" repeated Hatty, tears gushing to her eyes. "I do love to make peace; and I may call myself his child."

She was so full of joy that she ran up the steep stairs again to her low couch, and there kneeling down, she asked her heavenly Father to make her indeed his own child, and by and by to take her to dwell with him in heaven, where all was peace, and love, and joy, forever and ever.

CHAPTER VII
THE SICK GIRL

DAY after day went by and still Sallie lay in bed. Edward and his brother were able to sit up for a few hours, and take a little broth; but their sister was very, very ill.

One afternoon a neighbor knocked at Mr. Maynard's door and asked for Hatty.

"I have been watching with poor Sallie Munson," she said. "The widow is clear worn out; and I couldn't refuse. Sallie has come to her senses. She thinks she's going to die, and she wants to see Hatty."

"Why don't they send for the minister?" asked uncle Oliver.

"They have sent; but he wont be at home till to-morrow."

Esther's countenance changed, and at last she said, —

"I'm afraid to have sister go; the fever is very contagious."

"Well, I wont deny that; but perhaps if she ties a bag of camfire round her neck, she wont catch it, I've got one round mine this blessed minute; and I've made Sarah Ann wear one ever since the fever come into town."

"Hatty'll want to go," suggested uncle Oliver. "'Twill be just like her not to think a mite of herself. It's 'stonishing what harum-scarum creaters girls be. They don't valley their own lives a mite, if they want to do anything."

"Well, if you just heard Sallie a calling, 'Hatty, dear Hatty, do come, I'm going to die. Come and tell me what I must do,' you'd say 'twas heart-rending."

"I suppose she will go," faltered Esther, growing very white. "I'll tell her as soon as she comes home from school."

"Tell her, and let her judge for herself," muttered the old man. "I'd rather give every cent, I'm worth in the world than to venter her there; but God can keep her from all harm. She's a good girl, Hatty is, and knows a sight more'n some folks."

Esther did tell Hatty, and the consequence was that she went; but not until she had kneeled by her straw couch once more to ask God to bless her endeavors to do Sallie good. She did not think of herself. She felt sure her heavenly Father would take care of her. If he wished her to live longer, he would preserve her from the fever. If he meant to call her home to heaven now, she was ready to go. In her soul all was peace.

But for her dear companion, she was troubled. As she hurried along, she thought how they had loved each other; that never a word of unkindness had separated them; and she put up a little prayer to God that if consistent with his will, Sallie might be spared to her mother for many years.

Mrs. Munson saw her running toward the house, and met her at the door.

Poor Mrs. Munson! how hard during all these weeks of anxious care, had she tried to say, "It is the Lord; let him do with his own, what seemeth to him best."

"Sallie wants you badly, dear," she said, after kissing the child; "but aren't you afraid you'll take the fever? You know Cynthia came down with it yesterday."

"No, I hadn't heard."

Hatty's chin quivered, and the widow noticing her agitation said softly, —

"I wouldn't urge you for any thing. The minister'll be home to-morrow. May be Sallie'll forget it again."

"Hatty! why don't Hatty come?" called out the sick child.

"I'll go now, ma'am. Is any body with her?"

"Nobody but Edward."

"Will you please call him out? I'd rather see her alone."

Hatty was only thirteen years old; and you will not be surprised that when she saw her companion's pale face and wild, protruded eyes, her heart grew faint within her. She sank into a chair, and covered her face with her hands.

"I knew you'd come, I knew you'd be sorry for me," began Sallie, talking with feverish excitement. "Did mother tell you I am going to die?"

"No one but God can know that," murmured Hatty, slowly rising and approaching the bed. "Esther told me you wanted to see me, and I've come."

"Yes; I called you all night; but nobody would go. I'm afraid, Hatty; I don't want to die. Oh, I wish I was good."

"The Bible says nobody ever was good enough to go to heaven."

"What do you mean? Tell me quick!"

"I can't explain very well. I mean that if we're ever so good, as you call it, we couldn't get into heaven without Jesus. Our goodness is badness in God's sight, because he is so much holier than we are; but if we love Jesus, for his sake, God will forgive our sins."

"How can I love him? Mother has been telling me I must accept him as my Saviour, but I don't know how. Oh! I wish somebody would tell me! I'm dying, and I can't find out anything."

"Sallie, listen to me a minute. In my last Sabbath school paper was an account of a little heathen girl, who felt as you do. She wanted to love Christ, but she didn't know how to give her heart to him. The missionaries talked to her and prayed with her, but she only cried the more. At last one said, 'Jesus never sinned; but you are a great sinner.'

"'Yes, yes! I understand that.'

"'Well, you have offended God, and he has threatened to punish you; but now Jesus promises to receive the punishment for you, and for that he died on the cross.'

"'Oh, yes! yes! yes!' cried the heathen girl. 'I understand now. I must make a bargain with Jesus. I will give him all my badness, and he will give me all his goodness. Oh, I see! I see!! I do love him. Oh, how good he is!'"