"And now," as Bessie returned, "you want to go out to your play again, my dear. Will you leave Georgie with us?"
Susan was a little doubtful about trusting her darling with anyone, especially one who could take Bessie's part against him; but she wished exceedingly to be present at the interesting moment of seeing whether the potatoes were done enough, and George was perfectly contented with measuring everything on the ribbon, so she ran quickly off, without the manners to thank Miss Fosbrook, but to assure the rest of the party that the governess really was very good-natured, and that she would save her biggest and best potato for Miss Fosbrook's tea.
Christabel managed very happily with little George, though not quite without offending Elizabeth, who thought it very hard to be desired to put away her painting instead of tantalizing her little brother with the sight of what he must not have. Miss Fosbrook could not draw her into the merry game with little George, which made his shouts of glee ring out through the house, and meet Nurse Freeman's ear as she came in-doors with the baby, and calling at the school- room door, summoned him off to his tea, as if she were in a pet with Miss Fosbrook for daring to meddle with one of HER own nursery children.
Nothing more was heard of the others, and Christabel and Elizabeth both read in peace till the tea-bell rang, and they went down and waited and waited, till Miss Fosbrook accepted Bessie's offer of going out to call the rest. But Bessie returned no more than the rest; and the governess set forth herself, but had not made many steps before the voices of the rabble rout were heard, and they all were dancing and clattering about her, while Susan and Hal each carried aloft a plate containing articles once brown, now black, and thickly powdered with white ashes, as were the children themselves up to their very hair.
As a slight concession to grown-up people's prejudices, they did, at the risk of their dear potatoes getting cold, scamper up to perform a species of toilette, and then sat down round the tea-table, Susie, David, and Sam each vociferous that Miss Fosbrook should eat "my potato that I did on purpose for her." Poor Miss Fosbrook! she would nearly as soon have eaten the bonfire itself as those cinder-coated things, tough as leather outside, and within like solid smoke. Indeed the children, who had been bathing in smoke all day, had brought in the air of it with them; but their tongues ran fast on their adventures, and their taste had no doubt that their own bonfire potatoes were the most perfect cookery in art! Miss Fosbrook picked out the most eatable bits of each of the three, and managed to satisfy the three cooks, all zealous for their own. Other people's potatoes might be smoky, but each one's own was delicious--"quite worthy of the pig when he was bought," thought Miss Fosbrook; but she made her real pleasure at the kind feeling to cover her dislike of the black potatoes, and thus pleased the children without being untrue.
"Line upon line, precept upon precept; here a little, and there a little." That is the way habits are formed and characters made; not all at once. So there had been an opportunity for Susan to grow confirmed in her kindness and unselfishness, as well as to learn that tyranny is wrong, even on behalf of the weak; and Bessie, if she would take home the lesson, had received one in readiness to be cheerful, and to turn from her own pursuits to oblige others. Something had been attempted toward breaking her habit of being fretful, and thinking herself injured. It remained to be seen whether the many little things that were yet to happen to the two girls would be so used as to strengthen their good habits or their bad ones.
CHAPTER VII.
It is not worth while to go on describing every day at Stokesley, since lessons were far too much alike; and play-times, though varied enough for the house of Merrifield, might be less entertaining to the readers.
Enough to say, that by Saturday afternoon John had not only forfeited his last farthing, but was charged with another into next week, for the poor pleasure of leaving his hat on the school-room floor because Elizabeth had told him of it. At about four o'clock it set in for rain, catching the party at some distance from home, so that, though they made good speed, the dust turned into mud, and clung fast to their shoes.
David, never the best runner, was only in time to catch Johnnie by the skirt upon the third step of the staircase, crying out, "The pig!" but Johnnie, tired of the subject, and in a provoking mood, twitched away his pinafore, crying, "Bother the pig!" and rushed up after the four who had preceded him, leaving such lumps of dirt on the edge of every step, that when Miss Fosbrook came after with Elizabeth she could not but declare that a shower was a costly article.
"You see," observed Susan, "when it's such fine weather it puts one's feet out of one's head."
While Sam, Henry, and Bessie were laughing at Susan for this speech, little George trotted in, crying out, "Halty man come, Halty man come; Georgie want sweetie!"
"The Gibraltar man!" cried John and Annie with one voice, and they were at the bottom of the stairs with a bound.
"Oh, send him away, send him away. They'll spend all their money, and there will be none left!" was David's cry; while George kept dragging his eldest sister's frock, with entreaties of "Susie, Susie, come."
"They call him the Gibraltar man, because he sells Gibraltar rock, and gingerbread, and all those things," said Henry in explanation. "We have always dealt with him; and he is very deserving; and his wife makes it all--at least I know she makes ginger-beer--so we must encourage him."
So Henry hastened downstairs to encourage the Gibraltar man; and Susan, saying soothingly, "Yes, yes, Georgie;--never mind Davie, we'll make up for it; I can't vex him," had taken the little fellow in her arms and followed.
"Pigs enough here, without sending to the fair," muttered Sam.
"Please, Sam, please, Miss Fosbrook, send the Gibraltar man away, and don't let him come," cried David quite passionately. "Nasty man! he will come every Saturday, and they'll always spend all their money."
"But, my friend," said Miss Fosbrook good-humouredly, "suppose we have no right to banish the Gibraltar man?"
"_I_ don't wan't him," said Bessie; "it makes my fingers sticky."
"You're no good," said David vehemently. "I don't like you, and I hate the Gibraltar man, taking away all our money from poor Hannah."
"Gently, gently, Davie; nobody makes you spend your money; and perhaps the poor man has children of his own who want food as much as Hannah's do."
"Then can't they eat the Gibraltar rock and bulls' eyes?"
Sam suggested that this diet would make them sick; to which poor little earnest David answered, that when once the pig was bought, he would give all his money for a whole month to the Gibraltar man, if he would not come for the next four weeks.
And Christabel thought of what she had once read, that people would often gladly put away from their children friends the very trials that are sent by Heaven to prove and strengthen their will and power of resisting self-indulgence. Before she had quite thought it out, the quick steps were back again, and Sam greeted the entrance of John thus: "Well, if that isn't a shame! Have you been and done Sukey out of all that, Jack?"
"It was only three bulls' eyes," said Susan, following. "You know he had nothing of his own, and it was so hard, and Annie gave him some."
"And Nurse some," added Hal. "Trust Jackie for taking care of himself." Well he might say so, considering how full were John's mouth, hands, and pockets.
"And Davie has had nothing!" said kind Susan. "Here, Davie!" holding out to him an amber-like piece of barley-sugar.
"I don't want your stuff," said David roughly. "You've spent all away from the pig."
"No, Davie, indeed, only twopence," said Susan; "pray have a bit."
"You might at least say thank you," said Miss Fosbrook.
But how difficult is that middle road which is the only right one! David, being too much set on one single purpose, good though it was, could see nothing else. It was right and generous to abstain from sweets with this end in view; but it was wrong to be rude and unthankful to the sister who meant all so kindly, and was the most unselfish of all. She turned round to Elizabeth with the kind offer of the dainty she had not even tasted herself, but was not more graciously treated.