Mr. Franklin was sure of it; and seeing all actively employed, and himself of little use, he took his leave for the present, hoping that the Misses Langford would not tire themselves.
Angels' work is Church decoration-work fit for angels, that is to say; but how pure should be the hands and hearts engaged in it! Its greatness makes it solemn and awful. It is work immediately for the glory of GOD; it is work like that of the children who strewed the palm-branches before the steps of the Redeemer! Who can frame in imagination a more favoured and delightful occupation, than that of the four young creatures who were, in very deed, greeting the coming of their LORD with those bright and glistening wreaths with which they were adorning His sanctuary?
Angels' work! but the angels veil their faces and tremble; and we upon earth have still greater cause to tremble and bow down in awful reverence, when we are allowed to approach so near His shrine. And was that spirit of holy fear-that sole desire for His glory-the chief thought with these young people?
Not that there was what even a severe judge could call irreverence in word or deed; there was no idle laughter, and the conversation was in a tone and a style which showed that they were all well trained in respect for the sanctity of the place. Even in all the helping up and down ladders and steps, in the reaching over for branches, in all the little mishaps and adventures that befell them, their behaviour was outwardly perfectly what it ought to have been; and that is no small praise for four young people, under seventeen, left in church alone together for so many hours.
But still Beatrice's great aim was, unconsciously perhaps, to keep the two boys entirely devoted to herself, and to exert her power. Wonderful power it was in reality, which kept them interested in employment so little accordant with their nature; kept them amused without irreverence, and doing good service all the time. But it was a power of which she greatly enjoyed the exercise, and which did nothing to lessen the rivalry between them. As to Henrietta, she was sitting apart on a hassock, very happy, and very busy in arranging the Monogram and wreath which she had yesterday proposed. She was almost forgotten by the other three-certainly neglected-but she did not feel it so; she had rather be quiet, for she could not work and talk like Queen Bee; and she liked to think over the numerous verses and hymns that her employment brought to her mind. Uncle Geoffrey's conversation dwelt upon her too; she began to realize his meaning, and she was especially anxious to fulfil his desire, by entreating Fred to beware of temptations to disobedience. Opportunities for private interviews were, however, very rare at Knight Sutton, and she had been looking forward to having him all to herself here, when he must wish to visit his father's grave with her. She was vexed for a moment that his first attention was not given to it; but she knew that his first thought was there, and boys never showed what was uppermost in their minds to anyone but their sisters. She should have him by and by, and the present was full of tranquil enjoyment.
If Henrietta had been free from blame in coming to Knight Sutton at all, or in her way of leaving the house this morning, there would have been little or no drawback to our pleasure in contemplating her.
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Queen Bee, as the last reverberation of the single stroke of the deep-toned clock fell quivering on her ear. "I thought you would have given us at least eleven more."
"What a quantity remains to be done!" sighed Henrietta, laying down the wreath which she had just completed. "Your work looks beautiful, Queenie, but how shall we ever finish?"
"A short winter's day, too!" said Beatrice. "One thing is certain-that we can't go home to luncheon."
"What will grandmamma think of that?" said Henrietta doubtfully. "Will she like it?"
Beatrice could have answered, "Not at all;" but she said, "O never mind, it can't be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, and besides we might be caught and stopped."
"Oh, that would be worse than anything," said Henrietta, quite convinced.
"So you mean to starve," said Alex.
"See what slaves men are to creature comforts," said Beatrice; "what do you say, Henrietta?"
"I had much rather stay here," said Henrietta; "I want nothing."
"Much better fun to go without," said Fred, who had not often enough missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke.
"I'll tell you what will do best of all!" cried Queen Bee. "You go to Dame Reid's, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men's bench in the porch."
"Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts," said Alex. "I thought she would soon come down to other mortals."
"Only to gratify her famishing subjects," said Beatrice, "you disloyal vassal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr. Geoffrey is coming."
"For his private eating?" said Fred.
"He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger. But come, Alex, why are you not off?"
"Because I don't happen to have a sixpence," said Alex, with an honest openness, overcoming his desire to add "in my pocket." It cost him an effort; for at school, where each slight ad- vantage was noted, and comparisons perpetually made, Fred's superior wealth and larger allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not, or despised such mammon worship, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty.
"Every one is poor at the end of the half," said Fred, tossing up his purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. "Here is a sixpence, thought, at her Majesty's service."
"And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to loyalty?" said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. "We are not fallen quite so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in my desk at home."
"And my purse is in my workbox," said Henrietta.
"So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present," said Beatrice, "if it won't quite break you down."
"There are more where that came from," said Fred, with a careless air. "Come along, Alex."
Away they went. "That is unlucky," soliloquised Queen Bee: "if I could have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them no more."
"No, no, that would be rather too bad," said Henrietta. "I am sure Fred will behave better."
"Mark what I say," said Beatrice. "I know how it will be; a dog or a gun is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again 'twill be a nine days' wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to look at your wreath."
She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame Reid's grandson.
"Thank you," said she. "Did Master Alexander give you this?"
"Ay."
"Thank you, that's right!" and away he went.
"You see," said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came out to the porch. "Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!" and she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary's handwriting to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, "Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews's about his terrier.-A. L." "Very cool, certainly!" said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique. "What a life I will lead them!"