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Story Of A Needle

<h2 class='c009'>CHAPTER VI. A PIECE OF MISCHIEF.</h2> <div class='c010'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/di-t.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> THE next day I found that the lesson of work was to be omitted. Little Miss Lizzie Baker came to spend the day with my young mistress, who was, therefore, excused from performing her tasks; which, I could not help imagining, would be felt quite as great a relief by the teacher as by the pupil. I was not, however, to be left in complete idleness. Mrs. Ellerslie entered the sitting-room in which the work-box of her daughter was kept. She was dressed in her bonnet and shawl; and seeing me close at hand, sticking in Lily’s piece of work, she threaded me with a piece of dark silk, and mended a small hole in her glove. There was a great sound over 41head, as of little feet running about, and now and then a fretful cry from the baby. The lady rose and opened the door, and then I could plainly distinguish a voice speaking from an upper room in the house. “Indeed, Miss Lily, I shall never get the child to sleep if you make such a constant noise. You’ve woke her up these three times already!” “Lily! Lily!” called her mother at the foot of the stairs. Whether her call was heard by the little lady I know not, it certainly was not answered, and Mrs. Ellerslie had walked half-way up to the nursery before I heard the servant exclaiming in a sharp tone, “Now do you be quiet, Miss Lily; don’t you hear that mistress is calling you?” “You had better come to the drawing-room, my darlings,” called the gentle mother, “and then nurse can put poor baby to sleep. I am obliged to go out to make purchases, and to execute commissions for my sister; but I am sure that you will be good and happy while I am away; and do not be too noisy, my pets.” So Lily and Lizzie Baker, a plump, dark-eyed 42little girl, came into the room, and seated themselves on an ottoman, near the table on which my work-box was placed. Eddy followed, jumping step by step down the stairs, and trotting up to his sister, said, “Lily, won’t you let me play with you?” “Oh, we don’t want you here,” was the reply; “we are going to have a quiet chat together. Just you amuse yourself, and don’t trouble us.” The little fellow turned dolefully away, went up to the window, and flattened his nose against the pane, looking after his mother as she crossed the street; soiled his finger by drawing lines across the glass which he had dimmed with his breath; then, tired of that diversion, tried to pull off the little twists of wool which formed the fringe of the curtain; and then suddenly making up to the table, laid his exploring hand on the work-box. “There now, Eddy, you tormenting boy, just take your hands off,” cried Lily, turning round just in time to prevent its contents being scattered on the floor. She roughly snatched the box from the child, and giving him something 43very much like a shake, sent him half crying to another end of the room. “He is the most mischievous little monkey,” she said to her companion; “would you believe it, he pulled off the wig of my new doll!” “I think that brothers are great torments,” observed Lizzie. “Oh, not such brothers as George,” replied Lily; “he is always like sunshine in the house. I am so glad that he is coming from school. I have been counting the days to the holidays.” “Well, that’s odd,” said Lizzie; “I always dread them. In the morning of the day when our boys return, I always think as soon as I awake, ‘Dear, dear, we’ll have no more peace in the house!’ They are so noisy, so rude, so troublesome, so fond of worrying and teasing us girls, I’m sure that it’s a happy day for us when the coach comes to take them back to school.” “They must be very different from George. I always am happier when he is with me; and it seems as if he made me better too.” “But he cannot amuse himself with you. Does he not like hocky, and cricket, and football, and despise the diversions of girls?” 44“He does like cricket, and that sort of thing, and is a capital hand at it too, but he does not despise playing with us. I do not think that he despises anything but what is mean or wrong. You don’t know how fond little baby is of him; and as for Eddy, he is never so merry as when he is at romps with Georgie, or listening to one of his stories. I don’t know how it is, but every one seems more happy, and everything looks brighter, when Georgie is at home.” A funny fancy came into my head at this moment. I could not help recollecting what the Thimble had told me about gold—how that metal, which is so weighty and precious, yet can be spread into leaves so thin as to brighten the paper on the wall and adorn the leaves of the book. I wondered if there were anything like this to be found in human life; if the precious thing called virtue, which my companion had likened to gold, could also be found to extend to trifles, and in the smaller occurrences of life show its power to brighten and adorn. It was an odd idea, but it arose from what I heard Lily say that morning of her 45brother; and when I had an opportunity of watching George myself, it recurred to me again and again. So the young ladies sat there chatting and diverting themselves for an hour or more, playing at cat’s-cradle, comparing their dolls, telling stories of the past, and building castles in the air for the future. Eddy more than once broke in on their tête-à-tête, but was told to go away, and not disturb them. Driven to his own resources, the child rode round the room on a footstool; but this amusement was stopped, as being too noisy. He then kicked his heels for some time on the sofa, till, finding the occupation tiresome, he made the discovery of a little hole in a cushion, from which he managed to abstract several tiny feathers, which amused him for a quarter of an hour. Then I watched him—for no eye seemed to watch him but mine—when he wearily sauntered to the other side of the room, and fixed his round eyes upon an instrument which, as I have since learned, is called a thermometer. He stared up at this, till his curiosity grew strong. He dragged, with some labour, a chair to the spot, and 46scrambling up upon the seat, brought his face to a level with the glass. He put out his hand and touched the round ball at the bottom of the instrument, examining it like any little philosopher; he then pressed it a little harder, I suppose, for I saw the child give a slight start, as if some mischief had been done, and then scramble from the chair faster than he had got up, and throw himself down on the floor. Glancing up at the thermometer, I could see that the little silver ball had disappeared; but I was at a loss to account for Eddy’s movements now, as, half-stretched on the carpet, leaning on one elbow, he seemed to be attempting to pick up something which eluded his grasp, pouncing down his hand now here, now there, and laughing to himself merrily all the while. “I think it’s alive,” he said softly; “how funnily it runs about when I try to get hold of it!” and opening his mouth, he stooped closer to the ground, as though to draw up with his lips the something which always slipped from his fingers. He was startled by a frightened exclamation from his mother, who at this moment entered the room. 47“Eddy, my child! oh, don’t touch that! it’s quicksilver—poison—it might kill you! Oh, what a mercy that I came just in time!” and weary, agitated, and alarmed, the poor lady drew him close to her bosom and wept. “Mamma!” exclaimed the child, frightened at her tears, “I didn’t mean—I didn’t know—it looked so funny; I never will do so any more!” “Oh, Lily, Lily!” cried Mrs. Ellerslie, with something of bitterness in her tone, as both the little girls hurried to her side, “could you not have looked a little after your brother? If I had returned but one minute later your carelessness might have cost the life of my child!” <div class='pbb'> <hr class='pb c014' /></div> <div class='chapter'>48 <h2 class='c009'>CHAPTER VII. THE LIVELY METAL.</h2></div> <div class='c010'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/di-w.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> “WHAT was that extraordinary metal,” cried I, “which I took for a ball of silver, till I saw the drops running about on the carpet?” “Ha! ha!” laughed the spiteful old Scissors, which, speck of rust and all, had been replaced in the box, “you never saw the solemn philosopher, Mrs. Thimble, ever cutting a dance like that!” “The lady called it quicksilver,” I observed. “Was it, then, no relation of my friend?” “Relation!” again exclaimed the Scissors; “a relation that would eat her, rim, top, and all; make holes for her knowledge to run out of! Quicksilver is a dangerous neighbour.” “Dangerous both to metal and to man,” 49quietly rejoined my learned companion. “Its power can dissolve both silver and gold; and to the human species it acts as a powerful poison.” “I wonder that they do not leave it alone, if it does such mischief,” said I. “Do you not know,” replied my friend, “that reason and knowledge can find valuable uses even in those things which at first sight appear only hurtful? From quicksilver, also called mercury, a medicine is prepared, which, under the name of calomel, has helped to preserve many a life.” “How strange!” I exclaimed; “medicine and poison, safety and danger, both from the same curious metal! But is it always a liquid like that?” “Oh no!” replied the Thimble; “mixed with other metals, it becomes staid and quiet enough. Look at that beautiful mirror in the gilded frame, which reflects every object in the room. To what, think you, does it owe its beauty? To an amalgam (that is the title given to the mixture)—an amalgam of mercury and tin, which lines the glass at the back.” “And makes it a pretty aid to vanity and 50folly,” said the broken-pointed Scissors, with bitterness. “If there is one thing which silly mortals like better than another, it is to look at their own faces in a glass.” “If mercury has often ministered to vanity and folly,” said the Thimble, “I remember hearing of one curious instance where it served to mortify them both. A dashing lady, who was absurd enough to try to increase her beauty by covering her yellow complexion with a delicate coating of white paint, once visited a quicksilver mine. She must have felt it strange to find herself in that gloomy place, where the sickly miners, by the glare of torch-light, pursue their unwholesome occupation.” “Why should it be unwholesome?” I asked. “Because mercury is of that poisonous nature, that it is said that those employed to procure it seldom live longer than two years in the mine.” “I should think that after learning that,” observed I, “the dashing lady would have a feeling of pain when next she looked in a mirror.” “Probably she had,” replied the Thimble, 51“but from a different cause. While she had been examining the mine, she little thought of the strange effect which the mercury would have on the paint which covered her face. She entered the place white like a lily; she left it black like a negro!” The idea of the poor lady with her black face mightily tickled the fancy of the Scissors, who wished that she had been there to see her. But my curiosity about the strange metal mercury was not quite satisfied yet. “What was the use of that instrument hung on the wall, where the quicksilver lay in its little glass ball, till Master Eddy broke its prison and set it free?” “That instrument is called a thermometer. It is employed to measure the heat of the weather.” “I cannot imagine how it can do that.” “It is the nature of mercury to expand—that is, grow bigger—whenever it is exposed to heat. At the top of the glass ball there is a slender glass tube. When the weather is warm, the mercury swells; and the ball being too small to hold it, it is forced up the tube to a 52greater or less height, according to the amount of the heat.” “Then, if plunged into boiling water, the mercury would rise very high indeed.” “And plunged into ice it would sink very low.” “Would it ever squeeze itself down into a solid?” said I. “You mean, would it freeze as water does? It requires very, very intense cold to freeze mercury; but it is not impossible to do it. I have heard the master of the shop in which I lay unsold for years, who was himself something of a philosopher, and from whose conversation with others I have learned the little that I know,—I have heard him say that he has seen quicksilver frozen quite hard, so that even a medal was made of it; but it was not from the mere effect of winter weather.” “And, of course, if any one had put the medal into his warm pocket, it would have begun to run about again directly. The best way to keep it quiet seems to be to make an am—— What did you call its mixture with some other metal?” 53“Amalgam,” replied the Thimble. “Ah, yes! behind the mirror is an amalgam of quicksilver and tin.” “Like energy united with common sense.” “And taught to reflect,” added the Scissors. <div class='pbb'> <hr class='pb c014' /></div> <div class='chapter'>54 <h2 class='c009'>CHAPTER VIII. PACKING THE BOX.</h2></div> <div class='c010'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/di-t.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> THE next day’s lessons passed over with the usual amount of weariness on the part of the teacher, dulness on that of little Eddy, and carelessness on that of his sister. It was with great difficulty that Mrs. Ellerslie could keep the attention of Lily to the tasks which she had to learn. The thoughts of the little girl were constantly wandering, now to her brother, now to her play, now to some project in her mind, while she tried the patience of her mother almost as much by the numerous little bad habits which seemed to spring up like weeds in neglected ground. “Lily, do hold up your head!—My child, you must not stand upon one foot!—Little 55girls ought not to bite their lips!—What! you have been at your nails again!” Such were the sentences which, from the lips of the anxious parent, constantly interrupted the course of the studies. I began to wonder whether little girls could find any peculiar enjoyment in biting their finger-ends—whether they thought it becoming to look hunchbacked, or merely delighted in teasing their teachers, and defeating the efforts of those who love them to make them lady-like and agreeable. As I am a needle, and not a little girl, I cannot tell which of these three motives it was that influenced the conduct of Lily. If any of my young readers ever follow her example, I beg them to decide the question. At length lessons were finished, and the tired teacher was free, but not to rest. Oh no! but to pack up a box for her sister in India, which must be despatched before one o’clock. “Now, my darlings, run up and get ready for your walk.” Lily sauntered slowly up to the window. “Oh, I’m so glad! it’s raining fast!” said she. “I have something that I particularly want to 56do. See, mamma, what Lizzie gave me yesterday!” And she drew, from a little pocket in her dress, a very small parcel, and opening it, displayed to view a reel of bright, glittering gold thread. “Very pretty; and what will you make of it, my dear?” said Mrs. Ellerslie, kindly pausing in her occupation of clearing away school-books and slates, Lily never dreaming of offering her assistance. “I’m going to ornament a pen-wiper for George,” replied the child; “don’t you think that it will please him very much? May I stay here and work it beside you?” Mrs. Ellerslie nodded her head in assent, but looked a little grave; perhaps she would have preferred being left for an hour in quiet, and had some idea what the permission would cost her. “And may I stay here too, mamma?” inquired Eddy. “I want to look at you packing all these things. Do let me stay, darling mamma!” She could not resist his entreaty; so there he pretty quietly stood, watching his mother as 57she hastily spread the table with various parcels, brown paper, oil-skin, a tin box, and string. “Mamma,” said Lily, standing on one foot, with the golden thread dangling from her hand, “don’t you think that this will look well upon a dark ground?” “Yes, my love,” answered Mrs. Ellerslie, her voice half drowned in the rustling of paper. “Mamma, do you think blue or green would look best?” “I really cannot think about it at all just now. My box must be ready before one. Now, my Eddy, you must not open the parcels.” “I was just peeping in a little, mamma.” “Don’t come to the table, my sweet boy! Mamma is very busy indeed.” Eddy trotted off without saying another word. “Mamma,” began Lily again, “do you think that you have a bit of dark-blue cloth or velvet, whichever you please, to give me for the sides of my pen-wiper?” “I dare say I have some upstairs in my wardrobe.” “Could I go and get it, mamma?” 58“No; you know that I never allow you to search there,” said the lady, who, having lined the bright tin box with paper, was trying every possible position in which an awkward shaped parcel could take up least room. Lily remained silent for a few minutes, but without occupying herself with anything but the thought how she could persuade her mother to give her at once what she had set her heart upon obtaining. At length she cautiously commenced with, “I am rather in a hurry to begin.” “I will look out the piece for you when next I go upstairs.” Lily gave a very audible sigh. “This would be just the time for working,” murmured she. “I shall have no peace till I get it for the child,” exclaimed Mrs. Ellerslie, half to herself; and the too indulgent mother left her parcels and her box, to commence a search for some small remnants of cloth, which, to judge by the length of her absence, she had a good deal of trouble in finding. “Now, do not interrupt me any more,” she 59said, as she placed them in the eager hand of Lily, and turned, by more active exertions, to make up for the time which she had lost. The girl bore them off in triumph to her work-box; but here a new difficulty arose. She snipped off this corner and that corner, by the aid of Mrs. Scissors, but could not satisfy herself with the shape. Again she approached her mother at the table: “Please to make me a good round, mamma. I have tried, but I cannot do it myself.” “You can wait a little, my dear.” Mrs. Ellerslie was pressing down the lid of the box, which seemed evidently determined not to close, and she looked certainly heated and tired. Again I heard that naughty, impatient sigh; again the tender mother yielded to importunity; the round was cut out, and a minute’s peace secured. “Where’s the string?” said Mrs. Ellerslie quickly, moving the box, lifting paper, glancing under the table. The lines on her forehead were plain enough now. Lily was busily employed trying to force the bright golden thread though my little eye. I 60saw plainly that she could never succeed, and I felt exceedingly mortified; for what could be a higher object of ambition to a needle than to be threaded with gold? Lily saw that her mother was hunting and searching for the lost piece of string, but she never stirred to assist her. “Where can it be? I’m sure that I brought some down! Where can I have laid the string?” “Here it is!” cried Eddy, suddenly becoming aware that his mother wanted something which he had himself carried off. He had been quietly amusing himself in his corner, tying chairs, stool, sofa, and bell-rope together, with a liberal expenditure of string and a very large allowance of tight knots. It was Mrs. Ellerslie’s turn to be impatient, as, hastily endeavouring to undo the child’s work, she exclaimed, “How on earth shall I unfasten all this?” “It’s my harness, mamma, and these are my horses! Oh, are you vexed?” he added, looking up in her face, and reading, from her harassed expression, that he had again been 61guilty of causing her trouble. “I’m very sorry, mamma; I’ll never do so any more.” Even in the midst of her hurry, the gentle mother stooped down to give him a kiss. She had another hurried run upstairs to bring more string, for she had not the spare time to undo all his knots; but no angry word passed her lips. She let Eddy stand beside her at the table, even trusted him to hold a match which she had lighted, and employed him to ring the bell. “I am so glad that it is done at last!” cried the lady, sinking wearily on the sofa, as the box—it was barely packed in time—was carried by a servant from the room. “And I helped you, mamma!” said Eddy proudly. “I shall never manage this!” cried Lily impatiently. “Oh, the tiresome needle!—stupid thread!” “I am at leisure now,” said her mother; “bring your work to me, my dear child.” “One would need a bodkin to hold such great coarse cord,” exclaimed Lily. What a name to give to the most delicate 62flexible thread which had ever employed the ingenuity of man to beat out from a single grain of gold! “If you had waited a little, I should have shown you what to do. The gold thread must not be passed through the thick cloth at all, but be fastened down to it with a little fine cotton. Thread your needle, and I will show you the way.” Oh, the patience and love of a mother! Alas, that it should often be met, if not with actual ingratitude, yet with that selfish want of consideration which receives every kindness as a matter of course, and never makes the smallest sacrifice in return! <div class='pbb'> <hr class='pb c014' /></div> <div class='chapter'>63 <h2 class='c009'>CHAPTER IX. GOLD ON A DARK GROUND.</h2></div> <div class='c010'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/di-o.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> “OF what a fine bright metal that box is made,” said I; “I should almost have taken it for silver.” “Your learned friend here would be shocked to be mentioned in the same breath with tin!” observed the Scissors. “Far from it,” said the bright silver Thimble. “If usefulness to man gives value to metal, few can rank more highly than tin. England owes to it her earliest fame; for long before her flag waved o’er distant seas—long before her conquering armies trod foreign shores, while her fields were wild forests, and her people barbarians, the Phœnicians sought her coasts for tin, for which her mines in Cornwall are yet famous.” 64“Ah! I remember,” I observed, “that it is when mixed with tin that mercury forms the amalgam used for the backs of mirrors.” “Mercury is not the only metal which unites in a friendly manner with tin. Joined to copper, it becomes bronze, of which those pretty chimney-piece ornaments are made; and pewter, so useful to the poor, comes from tin united with lead. It is also very commonly used to line copper pots and pans, which, without such a coating of tin, might poison the food which they contain.” “Poison!” I exclaimed in surprise. “Yes; many serious accidents have arisen from the tin lining wearing away from cooking vessels made of copper. The rust of copper is called verdigris; it is of a bright green colour, and of a most poisonous nature.” “Ah!” said the Scissors, “that accounts for our good lady’s alarm, when she found one morning, about two years ago, Master Eddy sucking a copper halfpenny! A precious deal of trouble that young gentleman has given her. He’s as active as quicksilver, and as mischievous.” 65“Pity that we can’t make an amalgam of him,” laughed I, “and teach the little rogue to reflect.” “He, Miss Lily, and the baby are killing their mother by inches between them,” said the Scissors. I felt rather afraid that she spoke truth, when I saw how faint and exhausted the poor lady appeared, when at length she found a few minutes for repose. She looked so very thin and so pale, as she stretched herself on the sofa, when the light of day began to grow dim. She opened a book with gilt edges, which I had observed to be her favourite companion, and which my friend had told me was, as she believed, a great mine from which man drew all the virtue which he possessed. She read a little, until her worn, anxious face assumed a peaceful expression. She raised her eyes, and looked upwards; I thought that they were moistened with tears; and her pale lips silently moved, as if she were speaking to some unseen friend. Then she shut the book, and placed it beside her, and her blue eyes languidly closed; and she lay so still, so very still, that she 66looked as though she never would move again. The sound of the opening of the outer door seemed to awaken her in a moment. She started up with quite a changed look, so bright, so animated, so cheerful; passed her hand hastily over her hair to smooth it, and then ran out of the room: and I heard her voice below in lively tones giving a fond welcome to her husband. It must have been difficult, however, for the poor lady to keep up a cheerful manner in his presence. I never saw so gloomy a man. It was in vain that she troubled him not with a single care of her own,—that she spoke not a word of her failing health, her difficulties with servants, her troubles about the bills, her ceaseless anxieties with the children. I watched him where I lay beside my thread of gold; for Lily’s habit of filling her box so full that she never even attempted to close it, gave me constant opportunities of looking about me, and seeing what passed in the room. When the children were called down to see their father, the stern gloom in his face never changed. Even 67when his wife placed little Rosey in his arms, he kissed her soft cheek with an air so sad, that the babe, half frightened, held out her hands to be taken back to her mother. Lily could not win his attention at all, and left the room mortified and vexed; and Eddy received no answer when he said, “Are you not glad that Georgie is coming home to-morrow?” “I’m sure that there’s something the matter with that man,” said the Thimble, when the sound of the dinner-bell had cleared the room. “There’s something weighing on his heart, you may be sure,” observed the Scissors, “for he used to be as merry as a child. I’ve seen him galloping up and down this very room, with Master Eddy perched upon his shoulders, and Lily scampering at his heels; and it would have puzzled even our sharp friend the Needle to say which was the liveliest of the three.” “He’s in trouble, then,” said the Thimble: “I’ve seen enough of life to know that mortals have their trials, which are to them as the hammer and the furnace to us.” The opinion of our philosophic friend was confirmed that evening, as, when the lamp was 68lighted, and the curtains drawn, and the children all quiet in bed, the husband and wife sat together in deep, earnest conversation. “You will hide nothing from me, my beloved,” said the lady, laying her hand fondly on his, and looking anxiously into his face. “I have felt for a long time that something was wrong; suspense is worse than the truth could be. I can bear all, all but to see you unhappy, and not be able to lighten, or at least share your trials!” He drew her closer to him. I could not see his face; it was turned from the place where I lay; and he spoke so low, in a hoarse, agitated voice, that I could catch but few of his words. They were such as “ruin,” “bankruptcy,” “poverty;” the meaning of which I could scarcely comprehend; but I saw the lady’s cheek grow very pale, though her manner was quiet and composed. “Well, dearest,” she said softly at length, “there are far greater trials than poverty. It will only draw us closer together. I can be happy in a very small abode—a cabin, a hut—so that my dear husband and children are 69with me. I will be Rosey’s nurse myself. We can manage on little; so little, you shall see what a housewife I shall be!” “Ah!” thought I, as I looked on that sweet loving face, “the gold indeed looks brightest on the dark ground, and virtue most lovely in affliction.” “It may not come to that; all may yet be well,” said the husband, rising and pacing up and down the room. “If I only could meet the present difficulty! A loan at this time would keep us all afloat; one good friend at this crisis might save us.” “George Hardcastle,” suggested the lady. “I have thought of him a thousand times,” replied her husband, stopping in his agitated walk. “He is rolling in wealth; he is generous; he is our cousin; our boy was named after him. But then—” He paused, and looked at his wife. “We have quarrelled with him.” “I have quarrelled with him. We have not met for months. I could not stoop to write to him now.” “Not for your children’s sake?” said the 70mother, rising and laying her hand on his arm. “Oh, Edward, we must think of our helpless babes! Even if he refused to lend money to you, he might, I think that he would, do something for our George.” Mr. Ellerslie uttered a sigh that was almost a groan, and threw himself down on his chair. “It seems to me as though we should lose no time,” continued his anxious wife; “so much is at stake! Let’s see: this is Wednesday,” she continued, pressing her hand on her forehead. “I think there are two posts to Bristol; if we wrote at once, we might have an answer on Friday. Edward, when all depends on it, why should there be one hour’s delay?” I could see that it went sorely against the will of Mr. Ellerslie to yield to the persuasions of his wife. It seemed to me, from words that dropped from him, that he was conscious of having behaved ill towards his cousin; that he regarded Mr. Hardcastle with a feeling of dislike, and almost preferred remaining in difficulties to asking assistance from him. I saw, though no mortal ever saw it, that Mrs. Ellerslie 71had a good deal to endure from her husband, however dear she might be to his heart. What patience she required, what earnest persuasion, to induce his proud spirit to bend so far as to write at all to his offended relative! And then, when the desk was opened, what a painful task was hers to make him write what would not offend, to alter sentences and soften expressions, and stoop to explain the greatness of his need. Often the ink dried on the pen, twice was the half-written sheet pushed angrily away, and bitter things were uttered, even to her whose every look and every tone was love. I scarcely believed that the letter would ever be finished. But finished it was at last; and Mr. Ellerslie hastily quitted the room, impatient with his wife, with himself, with all the world! The lady took the sealed letter in her tremulous grasp, folded her hands, and again looked upwards: again her lips moved; and this time the big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. “We must do all that we can,” she faintly murmured to herself. “The hearts of men are in His hands. We must leave no proper means untried, and then commit all to a higher Power.” <div class='pbb'> <hr class='pb c014' /></div> <div class='chapter'>72 <h2 class='c009'>CHAPTER X. THE SCHOOL-BOY’S RETURN.</h2></div> <div class='c010'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/di-c.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> CONSIDERING the heavy weight of care which I knew lay on the heart of the lady, it was wonderful to me how quietly she went through the ceaseless petty trials of her life. Lily and Eddy came as usual to their lessons next morning, the former with her dress a good deal torn. “Please, mamma, nurse says that I want a new frock.” “It is not long since I purchased this, Lily. You must have treated it very carelessly indeed,” replied the mother, looking somewhat grave. “Oh, it’s poor stuff!” cried Lily, giving a little pull, which confirmed her assertion, by making the rent a good deal wider. 73“There is no use in making it worse, Lily. I cannot afford to be buying new clothes. We must do the best we can with the old.” “Nurse says that she has no time for mending.” “I think that these lazy little fingers might make themselves useful,” said Mrs. Ellerslie, with a gentle smile; “those who mar things ought at least to mend them.” “I cannot mend such a frock!” “Then I must,” said the lady. Lily glanced at her mother’s face for a moment; perhaps she saw something there that pricked her conscience a little, for she said in an altered tone, “Dear mamma, I should like to be useful, but I do not like mending at all!” “Nor do I, my love,” answered her mother. There was nothing more said on the subject at that time. The lessons proceeded as usual. Lily, whose thoughts were very full of the expected arrival of her brother, broke off several times in the midst of her tasks, when she heard the sound of a carriage, and rushed to the window, whither she always was followed by Eddy, 74though assured each time that it was impossible that George could arrive till after early dinner. If Lily had known all that I knew, I cannot but think that for once she would have shown some consideration for the teacher, whose mind was so full of troubles and cares; I cannot but think that she would have known her verse correctly, held up her head, and kept her finger-ends still; but, as it was, the old story was repeated again, and when lesson-time was over, the child did not even seem conscious that she had been doing anything wrong! But oh! the bustle and commotion that there were when a cab, with a black trunk on the coachman’s box, did at length actually drive up to the door! The whole house resounded with the cry, “It is George! it is George! he has come!” I heard little Eddy swinging himself downstairs so fast, that it must have been at the peril of his neck; I believe the coachman had not even time to ring, so eagerly the door was opened; and there was such a medley of eager voices in the hall, that all the neighbourhood must have known of the arrival! I soon saw Mrs. Ellerslie enter the 75drawing-room, with a colour on her cheek and a sparkle in her eye; her arm was round the neck of her son, and she surveyed him with mingled pride and joy! I shall not attempt to repeat the conversation which passed; every one seemed so eager to ask questions, that there was scarcely a possibility of reply; but I noticed that whenever his mother spoke, George was instantly silent and attentive; and that though he laughed, played, and chatted merrily with all, his eye most frequently rested on her. Then he had to go upstairs to see the baby, followed, of course, by Lily and Eddy, who pursued him like his shadow; and it was not till an hour or two afterwards that he re-entered the drawing-room with them. “And now, Georgie, you must show us your prize!” cried Lily, with eager pleasure. They sat down on the ottoman together, just as Lizzie and Lily had sat, and Eddy crept up close to his brother. This time no one sent him away. “A book! what a beauty!” cried Lily; but on turning over some of the pages, she added, 76with a look of disappointment, “But what a stupid book it must be! all about metals, and things no one cares for!” “Well, I’ve been reading a little in the train, and I do not find it stupid at all. It tells one so much that is curious and new. Did you ever hear, Eddy, of metal spoons that would melt in hot tea like sugar?” Eddy opened his eyes very wide. “Well, men really make such spoons—I mean, that they would, if they thought that any one would buy them—of a mixture of bismuth, lead, and tin!” “I never heard of bismuth before,” cried Lily. “It is a white metal, of a reddish-yellow tinge, used with others in making solder for the plumbers. There’s the beauty of my book, Lily; it tells one so much that one never heard of before. Did you know that there was a wine made of steel?” “Steel wine? Oh yes! that is what mamma has to take every day, to make her strong. But it is not at all nice; it does not taste in the least like other wine.” 77“Then there’s sugar of lead.” “I’d like that!” cried Eddy, smacking his lips at the idea of a sweetmeat. “Would you, my little man? But it would not like you. Sugar of lead is that metal dissolved in spirit of vinegar; and that, you must know, makes it a poison.” “Well,” said Lily, “I always considered lead as a dull, heavy metal, fit for nothing but making water-pipes.” “My book would tell you a different tale. Why, you forget black lead pencils, and the types used in printing. It is employed also in making clear glass, the varnish on china, and beautiful white paint, for all that it looks so dull! Then, it’s so odd to think that from mixing some metals together you can get quite a new one! Look at the bright brass rods upon which the curtains are hung; brass is a mixture of copper and zinc.” “They look like gold!” cried Eddy, looking up. “What do people mix to make gold?” “You funny little philosopher,” said George, playfully tapping his brother on the cheek, “that’s the very question which for ages 78puzzled the brains of the learned. They wanted to discover some way to mix up metals and make gold. Even the wonderful Sir Isaac Newton was very anxious to find it out! Men were always searching and searching for what they called ‘the philosopher’s stone;’ and they read old books, and looked at the stars, as if they could see the secret written there; and they kept up fires for years and years, and mixed together all sorts of things; and some spent all their money, and some all their lives, in trying to find out how to make gold!” “And never found out at last?” inquired Lily. “It was like running after a rainbow, that searching for the philosopher’s stone. But look at Eddy; he is yawning. He is not quite a Sir Isaac Newton yet; so I think, Lily, that we had best shut the book, and be off for a game at hide-and-seek!” <div class='pbb'> <hr class='pb c014' /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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