Читать книгу 'Our Guy' or, The elder brother - Mrs. E. E. Boyd - Страница 7

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EITHER of the girls could tell which awoke first on New Year's morning, for as Agnes said at the breakfast table, when they looked at each other they were both awake.

Guy declared it was no wonder she graduated with such high honor when she was so extremely wise; and Ruth gave it as her opinion that she always had been a most precocious child, relating instances, some of them so amusing that with the recollection came a general outburst of merriment. "Do you remember the time the Millerites were making such an ado about the world coming to an end, Guy, how she went to mother and asked if it twisted itself round and round until it came to the end?"

"Don't I though, and the day she asked mother if vertigo meant a monkey. When mother told her no and laughed, she said it must be some animal, for she read in the paper that a man went up into a tree and while there was seized with vertigo."

"And the day she was transferred to another school, when she said she had a note of transubstantiation."

"Yes, and"—Guy was about to continue, but Agnes declared she was not going to sit there as a target for their fun, and ran laughing out of the room.

"What are you going to do with yourselves, girls?" asked their brother, as lighting a cigar he prepared to go out.

"O we are going to stay at home and have a nice time; you know holidays don't come very often."

"Well, you women folks have queer ideas of a nice time, if that is what you call staying in the house. Why, it is enough to make you stupid. Fix yourself up like other girls, and promenade; that is what I mean to do."

"What, fix yourself up like other girls?" demurely asked Agnes, glad of an opportunity to pay him back.

"O precocious child, I must be careful!" and he started for his promenade.

"Be sure to be back at one," was Ruth's reminder, and then the girls began to plan their "nice time." "I'll wash the breakfast dishes, Ruth, while you make the beds, you tuck the counterpane in so smoothly and have the pillows so straight," and Agnes, with sleeves pinned up and crash apron on, began her work. Her heart was very light, and as she worked she sang:—

"Behold I come with joy to do

The Master's blessed will;

My Lord in outward works pursue,

And serve his pleasure still.

Thus faithful to my Lord's commands,

I choose the better part,

And serve with careful Martha's hands,

But loving Mary's heart.

Though careful, without care I am,

Nor feel my happy toil,

Preserved in peace by Jesus' name,

Supported by his smile:

Rejoicing thus my faith to show,

His service my reward;

While every work I do below,

I do it to the Lord."

Ruth went up stairs and carefully spread the counterpane and arranged the pillows, but she did it mechanically. She was thinking of what Guy said about "fixing themselves up like other girls." She wondered if he was dissatisfied with their appearance, and if that could be the reason why he so seldom went out with them. Then he said they would become stupid if they did not go out more. If she could be sure he did not think them stupid now, she should not care. But he could not think so, for he had told her she was brilliant, and she knew she was gayer and more entertaining to him than to any one else, while as for Agnes, she was too good to be stupid.

"I should like to dress better just for his sake, now that he is a lawyer," she said with a little thrill of pleasure and pride. "Of course he will have a great many friends and they will have to see us sometimes. But—" here there was a pause and a deep sigh, "O, he does not know how little we have to dress with, if we would keep out of debt. There now, Agnes is singing and I am doing I scarcely know what," she added, as her sister's voice reached her. She did not hear the words, if she had heard they would have helped her. As it was, she chided herself for beginning the year so badly and hurried down stairs to help prepare dinner. Both she and Agnes decided it must be the very best dinner they ever had, for Guy liked good things, and on school days they had to live plainly. If the pudding was not plum pudding, it would be "almost as good," and they set to work gleefully stoning the raisins and beating the eggs.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could live this way always?" said Ruth, as she put a large raisin in her mouth.

"Yes," replied Agnes, "but—"

"Now, Agnes, do leave the buts and ifs out once, and say that you would really like it."

"Well, yes, I am sure it would be very nice not to have to think and plan so much about our way of living, and sometime I almost wish we had more money for your sake and Guy's, but—I can't help it, it will come," as Ruth made an impatient gesture—"indeed, Ruth, I should almost fear to be rich."

"Why, for fear of losing your religion? I thought you had more faith."

"Yes, perhaps that is the reason, Ruth, my lack of faith on this point. If I consecrated all but my money to the Lord, I might fear, for it would not bring happiness with it, but God's grace can dim even the shining of gold to the Christian, so that neither the eye nor the heart may be held by it."

"It is when I look at the pitiful way in which it is doled out, even to Him who gave it, that I dishonor God by having such thoughts. After all, the grace of submission which we need, Ruth, is as hard to learn, as any lesson that might come with riches; don't you think so?"

Agnes left the room for a few minutes and Ruth did not reply. But the thought took possession of her mind. "The grace of submission, that is a hard thing to learn indeed, at least for some people. I wonder if any one ever submits willingly, or if it is not because when they reason about it they find they cannot do better. I don't know about this thing of having no will of your own: some people require greater strength than others. Now there are Agnes and I so very unlike; she could not manage and plan nearly so well as I. So it is necessary for me to have more strength of will because I have no one to depend upon. If we had more money it would be easier to be amiable and sweet, for then I should not be perplexed. But I must need a great deal of teaching, or rather a willingness to be taught, and that is the reason I can never see or feel like Agnes in spiritual things."

Such a sense of want, such a longing came into her soul, that she almost cried out; but Agnes returned, and driving back her emotion, Ruth went on with her preparations.

With the greatest care Agnes set the table, bringing out the best china, and arranging and re-arranging until she was sure everything was right, then she and Ruth found it was time to dress.

"Fixing up like other girls," still ran in Ruth's mind, and going to the wardrobe, she selected her maroon colored merino dress, because Guy said it suited her complexion.

"Your best dress and lace bow," exclaimed Agnes, who considered herself quite well dressed in her black alpaca, though it had been turned, and a blue neck-tie.

"Yes," replied Ruth, "my best dress and lace bow. Extravagant, isn't it? Promises well for the year?"

"One would think you expected somebody."

"So I do; a gentleman."

"O, Guy, you mean; but what is the reason you have your best dress on?"

"Indeed that is the very reason. I don't know for whom I should want to dress, if not for Guy."

"Of course, Ruth, we should do more for him than for anyone, but you are so careful of your good clothes, and so seldom wear them at home."

"Well, I have been thinking perhaps I had better pay more attention to my appearance. Fix up a little more to be like other people, I mean. One feels better satisfied with herself when she is looking well. And then, Agnes, as Guy goes more into society, I fancy he is becoming fastidious."

"Yes, I suppose so," returned Agnes, re-arranging her neck-tie. "How do I look, Ruth; does this dress look shabby?"

"Shabby! one would scarcely know that it is not new. You always look well dressed; but it takes a great deal of fixing to set me off."

Guy's face showed his approbation as he glanced over the table, and his "Why, girls, this is a feast fit for a king!" carried with it, greater pleasure, than the most graceful compliment from other lips could have done. After dinner they walked out together "to see the New Year," Guy said; and the girls felt sure that he must know all the great men of the town, he bowed to so many. Then he was not the least ashamed of his sisters either, Ruth thought, and she became quite animated, so that Agnes, who knew nothing of the reason, wondered at the unusually high spirits. She was very happy, for she was with the two she loved best on earth, and it seemed such a glad beginning to the year. She smiled, talked, and looked to where Guy pointed, seeing beauty in everything, even in the ragged children who begged pennies as they passed along, for an inward light gave the charm, and a sweeter voice than that of brother or sister, made gladness. Several visits were made that afternoon to old friends who urged them to stay for tea; and it would have been pleasant, the girls thought, but Guy appeared anxious to go home, so they yielded very cheerfully. Guy had been planning a delightful surprise for his sisters, and he meant to make the announcement at the tea-table.

"Now for home and an early tea," he said after making their last call.

The girls brightened at the thought that home was really becoming attractive to Guy, and although they had thought it would be pleasant to free themselves from home duties for one evening and enjoy it with their friends, they lost sight of their own wishes in their great desire to please Guy.

"It is the best place after all, isn't it?" said Agnes, looking at her brother, who was holding the door for his sisters to enter. But his hasty, "Yes, hurry up with tea, girls," gave a new turn to their thoughts. Perhaps after all he meant to spend the evening out.

"Wouldn't it have been delightful if we could have staid at Borden's?" asked Agnes, sitting down at the foot of the bed, her favorite seat, as she untied her bonnet.

"Indeed it would," was the reply. "I don't know when I ever wanted so much to stay. We might often go out for tea if it were not for Guy, and that is one reason I wish we could keep a servant."

"A servant would not be company for him, Ruth, he would not come home at all for tea if we were not here. But if he cared more for our friends he would be more willing to visit with us. I don't think, however men care to be from home at meal-time, and I am so glad Guy is not dissatisfied with our plain way of living, now that he sees so much style and moves in such a refined circle."

"Where would be the use in being dissatisfied, he knows it can't be helped," was Ruth's reply as she turned to leave the room.

"I thought you were hungry," remarked Ruth, as Guy refused one or two dishes that were handed him.

"Not very," was the reply.

"Well that was cool, hurrying us home as if you were on the point of starvation, and now acknowledging that you are not hungry," said Agnes, laughing.

"O, I only wanted you to have tea over soon, so that we could go out."

"Out!" exclaimed both, "where?"

"To the theatre, there is a splendid bill for to-night. Look your very best girls."

A deathlike silence followed this announcement, and as Guy had finished, he rose from the table and went into the parlor, leaving his sisters sitting there. When he had gone they looked at each other. "O, Ruth!" said Agnes, sorrowfully. And Ruth replied, sharply, "Well?" but it had a sound of pain as if she had encountered some terrible sorrow, yet meant to bear it.

"He will be so angry," continued Agnes. "O, I wish we had staid at Borden's. Hadn't we better tell him now that we cannot go?"

"You can tell him for yourself, Agnes," and Ruth began removing the dishes with as much haste as if she were eager to go.

"And you, Ruth?"

"I am going."

"Ruth, you certainly cannot mean it. Going to the theatre and you a Christian, and this is the first day of the year. O, Ruth, remember last night and your covenant." Her arms were round her sister now as though she would hold her back from evil, but Ruth shook her off, and ran hastily up stairs to the school-room. Locking the door, she walked up and down the room, with hands tightly clasped and a face expressive of the strongest conflict.

"Last night, and your covenant," yes, she remembered only too well. But was not she right in this? Guy would go to these places and he must not go alone. Her sister was the best one to go with him. He could never go wrong if she were with him. What was the use of praying that he might become a Christian, and leaving him to go alone as he chose. No, she would win him over. He should see that Christians did not have to attend church and pray all the time, for that would make him dislike religion, but that they were like other people, only better.

When all this was settled, she began her preparations tremblingly, thinking how very plain her dress would be compared with the handsome dresses, to be seen there, but determined to appear well for Guy's sake, and not to let him know the struggle she had passed through.

As she left the school-room and ascended the short flight of stairs leading to their bedroom, she heard Agnes and Guy talking.

"She is telling him," she said. "O, I wish I could be Agnes! but we are differently constituted, and there are different requirements made of us. Agnes does the praying, and I must make the efforts, the sacrifices."

Yes, Agnes was telling her brother. She had not to reason as to what was right or wrong in this case, having read that we are to shun every appearance of evil, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world. Her heart beat fast, and her voice trembled, but not with indecision; for her soul was strong in its purpose to do right at all cost as she entered the room and said:

"Guy, I can't go to the theatre."

"What's the reason you can't?" was the surprised inquiry.

"Because our church does not allow it, and I do not think it is a good place."

"You don't! how do you know when you never were there? See here, Agnes, don't be a simpleton. Where is Ruth? I'll be bound she'll go; she has good sense and good taste. I saved up cigar money this week on purpose to take you. Hurry now, or we shall not get good seats."

"I can't do wrong, Guy; I must not go;" and Agnes went out of the room, back into the bright little kitchen where she had been so happy that morning. She wanted to go to her own room, but Ruth was there.

Guy was angry, very angry, Agnes thought, from his voice as he spoke to Ruth, but they passed out and she was alone.