Betty's Battles Part 12

"I have to call here, my child; but we shall meet again soon, and meantime G.o.d bless and help you every day."

And with a bright smile and warm handshake, Captain Janet Scott goes on her way, leaving Betty with a heart filled with joy. It was surely G.o.d Himself who planned that she should meet the Captain in this unexpected way, G.o.d who had sent His own sweet messenger to Betty to give her this much-needed counsel and advice!

CHAPTER IX

A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE

"Every one has a right place," thinks Betty, when her morning's work is done. "Yes, that sounds true enough, but how am I to manage in our house? I wish Captain had explained more about it.

"Now, let me think--what is my right place? It is my place to be loving and thoughtful, to strive to help every one, that's what Grannie would say. Well, I am trying to do that. 'It is _not_ your place to judge your mother,' so said my dear Captain. Of course, it is not. I know that, and yet I suppose that is just what I was doing when I spoke so impatiently about her. Mother's place? Have I ever given mother her right place?

Have I ever been really loving, really thoughtful for her, really obedient?

"But, then, mother has such old-fas.h.i.+oned notions, and such unpunctual ways, and--no, I _won't_ go on; I mustn't think these thoughts--this isn't giving mother her true place, this isn't keeping to the spirit of Captain's words!

"How sweet Captain is! Her big brown eyes are as clear and kind as Grannie's, and her voice is just the nicest I have ever heard. How I should love to be like her, to make all that difference when I went into a miserable house! Poor Mrs. Smith looked quite bright; and such a change in the children! If I could be an Officer, now, and go about making people happy, how delightful that would be!"

Then, with a new and true humility that is only just beginning to make itself felt in her heart, she adds:--

"Ah! but I'm not good enough. I'm too impatient, too irritable. No, no, I haven't learnt yet to be a good Soldier--why, I haven't learnt yet how to make _one_ home happy. I must learn to serve with patience. I must conquer myself; then, perhaps, in the days to come, the Lord will open the way to me, and I, too, may go into sad homes as a messenger of peace and love."

"Betty!" Mother's voice, calling querulously from the first-floor landing. Betty runs upstairs. Mother has a shawl round her shoulders, and looks very gloomy and upset.

"Betty, can't you keep the children quiet? My head aches dreadfully, but it's quite useless to try and get any sleep with Jennie and Pollie stamping about just over one's head. I sent them up to the attic to be out of the way, and they've done nothing but quarrel ever since--tiresome little good-for-nothings!"

"Oh, of course, they must come down at once, mother. Shall I send them out for a walk?"

"No, indeed, they're so dreadfully rough, throwing stones and shouting themselves hoa.r.s.e like a couple of street boys. I don't know what I've done, I'm sure, to have such troublesome children."

Betty fetches her two younger sisters down from the attic, and sends them out to play in the small garden-yard at the back of the house. She has a great deal of difficulty, for they are both so headstrong and unruly that they will hardly obey at all. At last she persuades them to settle down to a game of horses, and goes back.

But five minutes have barely elapsed when mother's voice is heard again.

"Betty, what are those children doing? I declare their noise is making me quite ill!"

Dismal shrieks from the back of the house confirm her words. Betty flies to a window and looks out.

Pollie, screaming with terror, is flying from Jennie, who, with face distorted with pa.s.sion, is darting after her--flouris.h.i.+ng a big stick, and yelling like a mad girl.

Betty's heart sinks at the sight. How shameful, how humiliating that her sisters should behave like this! How untaught and untrained they are!

She runs out breathlessly. She seizes Jennie by the arm. Jennie kicks and screams furiously.

"I will whip her, I will! She's a bad, wicked girl. She said she would stand still if I would let go of her arm, and then she ran away!"

"'Cos she was going to put a big strap in my mouth, and drive me about,"

sobs Pollie, "and I won't have it, I won't!" and, relying on Betty's protection, she strikes at her sister in her turn.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pollie flying from Jennie.]

"Pollie! Jennie! Oh, how can you behave so badly? You rude, naughty girls! Why, you're every bit as bad as the rough boys who play in the street. Aren't you ashamed to behave so wickedly? Don't you know that the Lord is very sorry when He sees little girls selfish, and rude, and pa.s.sionate? You know quite well that poor mother's head is bad, and yet you make all this noise! Why don't you try to play quietly together?"

"Nothing to play at," answers Jennie, sulkily. "I'm tired of games; and, besides, games are silly."

"Then take your knitting, or hem one of the new dusters."

"Shan't; it's holiday time, and I don't mean to do any work. If Pollie wasn't so silly I could play with her all right--screaming and making all that fuss about nothing."

"Well, if you can't keep quiet, I shall have to put you to bed--now remember."

But to herself Betty thinks, "Now, what would be the right thing to do for them? Teach them better, I suppose; teach them to be kind and gentle, teach them to be unselfish, to think less of themselves and more of others."

The thought is still with her when she returns to her household duties.

Suddenly a happy idea strikes her.

"Ah! I remember how Grannie told me that when she was a girl she used to invite a number of her little school-friends to her cottage on half-holidays; each girl brought a small piece of work with her, a tiny petticoat to sew, a sock to knit, or what not; and they would sew and chat away happily for hours, fancying themselves a real sewing society.

"The work was not for themselves--Oh, no! Twice every year all the little garments were collected and given to the poorer children of the village. Now, if these rough, headstrong sisters of mine would only do that! Is there nothing to make them follow dear Grannie's example?"

All the rest of that day Betty is thinking over her plan, and at night, ere she goes to rest, she lays the whole matter before the Lord in very earnest prayer. She is beginning to understand something at last of the real strength, and comfort, and light, which follows all heart-felt prayer.

Next morning she awakes with the determination strong within her of commencing that very day to win her little sisters to better things.

The children's summer holidays are just beginning; now is the time to interest them, to teach and help them; to put higher thoughts into their minds, to give their hands unselfish work to do.

It is a hot afternoon, Jennie and Pollie have been playing together aimlessly, breaking out now and again into noisy bursts of pa.s.sion. They are too tired to play any more now, and hot and sulky besides.

Betty calls them to her.

"Jennie, Pollie, I want to talk to you about a new way of spending your holiday afternoons; a really beautiful way. Come into the garden, and I'll tell you all about it."

The "garden" is only a back-yard, with one dusty tree leaning over the paling, and a few unhappy-looking flowers. How different from Grannie's garden, with its ma.s.ses of sweet-scented, old-fas.h.i.+oned blossoms; its pure air and clear sunlight!

Well, well, Betty must not think of that just now. At any rate, the air is fresher here than in the house.

"Is it a new kind of game? Oh, Betty, do make haste and tell us!"

"Listen, girls. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago there lived a dear, good woman--a _very_ good woman."

"What was her name?" demands Pollie.

"Dorcas. She lived in a little town by the seaside, in a country far away. Now in this town were many poor widows, who could not afford to buy clothes enough to keep them warm; and when Dorcas saw this she set to work, and cut out nice coats, and st.i.tched away, and I daresay she called her neighbours in to help her, and very soon those poor widows had new garments all round. How grateful, how delighted they were! They couldn't say enough to show their thanks."

"How do you know? Aren't you just making it up, Betty?"