The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1890-09-03


eve couldn't say no, Eleanor"
"And for that dreadful woman, who
looks as if she thought we were all her
worst enemies. o mother, how can
we bear it?"
" 1t must be for the best, dear"
Best-best. Yes, yes, but how can
it be? Was this the best for which we
have been kept waiting all this timer"
How hard to trample down the re-
bellious feelings which would arise in
her heartl How intolerable to think of
exchanging the sight of the blue sea for
the continual sight of that strangers
bold, accusing eyes, the sound of the
murmur of the waves for that harsh
voice! To accept her companionship
and that of those sharp-looking chill
dren for that of the friends she had
hoped to meet, from whom she had
hoped to win good, and to whom she
had hoped to do goodl
She reached her room before moth
er's newly imposed duties allowed her
to, and, throwing herself upon the bed,
sobbed out her sorrow and disappont-
ment. 1t was the first chance of real
outing which had ever come into her
life, cast into such quiet ways. She
gave full vent to her grief. Then, after
lying still for awhile, rose and looked
into the mirror. Some of the old de-
termination had come back to her eyes.
Well, Eleanor Gray" she said, look
ing sharply into the intelligent face
which answered her gaze, so you are
ready to lay down your arms and de-
sert your cOlors, are you? You are
ready to give up the fight, for what?
Just because your captain hasn't con-
suited you as to what line you prefer to
fight on. Oh, yesl You're brave
girl, Eleanor, you're a worthy follower
of the Master, worthy daughter of
the King. You seem to have forgotten
that daughter accepts in meekness
and love the commands of her
Father"
Another burst of tears, this time
flowing with a mingling of repentance
with the bitter struggle to give up her
own will; and when mother at length
Joined her, with a burden of dread at
her heart in the fearo Eleanor's taking
it hard, added to her own disappoint-
ment for herself and her children, she
was most gratefully cheered by finding
that the young girl had quietly accepted
the burden she could not shake off.
Perhaps we can do her some good"
said mother, after sitting in thought
for awhile.
"She doesn't look as if she wanted
good of u.s." sighed Eleanor. She
looks as if all she asked was room and
something to eat. But the children
surely can take in some good"
Mrs. Gray met her in the morning
with half defiant expression, which,
however, partly wore away as she per-
ceived that those upon whom she had
cast herself for help over a hard place
regarded her with kindly spirit
But she never lets up at ALL" said
Eleanor, dolefully, few weeks later.
If | could only feel that she realized
that we are friends, and desire only to
be kind to her, it would be so much
easier. But-he does not see fit to
make it easier for me-"
Now, tell us about your summer,
Eleanor" said Alice, as at the opening
of school in autumn the three friends
again met for another year of industri-
Gus, enjoyable study.
What about yours?' asked Eleanor
sob, very much about what
thought" said Alice. "Only my aunt
was not so cross as | feared she would
be, and the crossness did not seem so
hard to bear, because of the strength
you spoke of, Eleanor, which came for
the asking. And l have done my
studying and did not break down at it,
as Aunt Abby was always predicting,
and as |, in my ugly moments, fancied
she would have enjoyed seeing me do
But l think | at last contrived to reach
into the poor old souls heart, and we
parted the best of friends"
And you, Ruth?" asked Eleanor.
"Well, not exactly what | antici-
pated. Harder in some ways. Mother
was sick and had to 90 away from
home, which made it doleful for me
and the tribe of little ones"
What chance for work for every
hour!'
eyes," said Ruth, slowly, but with a
light in her eyes. No end of chances
for patient bearing of small worries
and doing of small duties. But loved
them all so much it made it easy, unless
the hateful part of me came uppermost.
But / had a delightful resting-time
afterwards. Mother came home well,
and sent me off for two weeks to some
friends in the mountains, who petted
and made as much of me as if | had
| been a queen"
"Or princess-as you are," said
Alice, pressing her hand. Now,
Eleanor, you wrote me of great disap-
pointment, and after that you said next
to nothing about yourself"
"Indeed, hadn't much to to say
said Eleanor, " for | was too busy to
write"
She gave a half-comical, half-serious
account of the inopportune arrival OF
Mrs. Harvey Gray, continuing the
story of the summers duties and theil
outcome, of illnesses through which
the children had passed, of times wher
their mother had found it hard to NEE
the expenses of the additional family.
"And do you mean that that woman
never warmed up to you to the yer,
end?" asked Ruth, when she had fin
ished.
"Never," said Eleanor. "She seemed