In the meantime the society was flourishing, a new element had been brought into it, and so far as its literary character was concerned, the most sanguine expectations of the Rev. John Jay had been met.

Several public meetings had been held, filling the house to overflowing, and eliciting the highest and most deserving praise. But that was of course from outsiders, and those simple-minded souls in the church, who never see evil without looking for good; who indeed are always finding the latter in everything and in every one but themselves. These were not competent judges. "Had the church been left to them, where would have been its sacredness and sanct.i.ty? Why, they never even changed their voices in the Lord's house, and they even wore a smile while there, as if they had forgotten the Lord was in his holy temple."

Thank G.o.d, there are those who carry His image about wherever they go!

Such need not by their own effort show a conscienceness of His presence.

He is the continual light of their countenance, and the gladness and music he makes in their hearts, is heard in their voice. They worship and praise with every breath, because their souls must find an outlet to the great love which holds them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Decoration]

CHAPTER IX.

A DAY OF PLEASURE.

IT was an unusually warm day in June, and Ruth had dismissed her scholars early on that account. She stood by the window plucking the dried leaves off the climbing rose, and thinking how delightful the approaching vacation would be, when a little hand touched her. Looking down she found Philip by her side.

"And what will mamma say at having no little boy at home?" she asked, drawing him nearer, and smoothing back his wavy hair.

"O, mamma knows. She only said I must not trouble you. I guess I wouldn't do that, though, because I love you too much."

Here the little hand tried to give Ruth's a great squeeze, while such an effort brought color to the pale cheeks. Not only that, but it brought something he wanted very much, a kiss.

"You always kiss me for telling you that, Miss Ruth, and so does mamma.

What do you do it for? Do you like little boys to love you?"

"You have not told me how much you love me," was the laughing reply. "I cannot answer questions till I know all about them."

"O, I love you more than all the world, except my mamma;--isn't that _ever_ so much?"

"Yes, that is a great deal. Then you don't love any one but your mamma and me?"

"I love G.o.d," and the earnest eyes were fixed on the blue clouds. "Would you like to be up there, Miss Ruth? Mamma reads about it for me. I should like to go up there and see it. I should like to see G.o.d, too, but I would come back again, you know. Mamma always cries and hugs me when I say that; just as if I would stay away from mamma and you. I guess I wouldn't. But I would see all the beautiful things the Bible says are there, and then I would draw pretty pictures. Mamma says there is a house up there for us all, and some day we will go and stay there.

Do you want to go, Miss Ruth?"

"Yes, some day," she replied; but there was no kindling of the eye, no joy of soul at the thought, for Ruth knew that her earthly love was stronger and more absorbing than the heavenly. "There, now, we will go and see about Miss Agnes's dinner," she added, glad to divert his thoughts.

"Miss Agnes has not come, Martha?" she inquired.

"No, ma'am. I have been watching for her. She will be awful hot, I think."

"You are Miss Agnes's little girl, and I am Miss Ruth's little boy, aren't we?" asked the child.

"I am Miss Ruth's, too," said Martha, decidedly.

"Yes, but you love Miss Agnes best."

"I love both just the same--only different; but Miss Agnes was my teacher."

Ruth gave such a quick look, that the child drew back frightened, thinking she was angry; but she smiled at her, and Martha's fear left her. How much a smile will do, and what a very little word or act will bring that smile. So when Agnes came home "awful hot," as Martha said, she was met by smiling faces, and waited on by loving hands, and finally it ended in a "real party," for they all had strawberries and cream, to keep Miss Agnes company.

"Isn't he a darling," whispered Agnes, glancing toward Philip, who was intent on his strawberries.

"Yes, he is a remarkable child; his mother must be very fond of him. I have been planning something to-day, Agnes, for all hands," looking round at the children, as she spoke.

"What?" asked her sister, brightening.

"I can't tell you until we are alone. But it will bring the roses to somebody's cheeks, and be very nice for all the somebodies."

"Don't let us do any thing this afternoon, but talk or read," proposed Agnes; and hearing this, Philip hurried to the school-room for his own little chair, so that he might lay his head on Ruth's lap and listen.

But _Christus Consolator_ was too profound, and lulled by the sound of Agnes's sweet voice, and Ruth's caressing touch, he slept.

"When the sun goes down it is time for little birds to be in their nests," said Ruth, and Philip now wide awake and knowing what was to follow, ran to tell Martha to get her hat. The first time he had staid, Ruth sent word to his mother that she would take him home, and ever since it had been understood.

"One on one side, and one on the other," he said, as he placed himself between Ruth and Agnes, offering a hand to each. But Ruth asked what was to become of poor Martha, and soon the two children were talking as gravely, and looking as demurely side by side, as if they had been grandfather and grandmother.

On their way home, while Martha walked before, Ruth developed her idea, which was that they should have a pic-nic, perhaps several of them during vacation, "as it would be so expensive to go away for a length of time you know. Just a family affair," she continued, "and we will take the children along to enliven us."

Agnes fell in with the plan very readily, and pictures of ferns, mosses and lichens at once rose before her delighted vision.

There were trying days still to be pa.s.sed in the school-room, days on which Ruth felt it would be a relief to scream out or do something desperate. But when she looked at the little ones under her care, trying to be good and obedient while under control, she chided herself for her impatience, at the same time relaxing her discipline. But the days went by and the holidays came, and Miss Ruth's joy at her freedom was not one bit less than her pupils'; though she didn't run screaming to tell every one that "school was broken up." "We might as well go soon, Ruth. I feel as if I could scarcely breathe here," said Agnes, a few days after school had closed.

"A day won't help you much if you are in that state. What shall you do all the other warm days?"

"Imagine I am in the woods," was the laughing reply.

"Then you had better bring your imagination to bear upon it now. Guy will have to dine down town that day. I fancy he will not like it very well, for he is so fastidious. Guy was certainly meant to be rich."

"Why not ask him to go with us?" suggested Agnes.

"If you want to be laughed at you will. Imagine our Guy going with two women, two children, and a lot of baskets, to spend a day in the woods!"

"I should think he might enjoy the change quite as much as we. But men are queer, they look upon women's pleasures as childish, I really believe."

The day before the pic-nic every one was busy; even Philip insisted upon helping. When Guy came to dinner there was such an air of commotion that he at once inquired the cause.

"What's up, girls? house-cleaning? If that's the case, I'm off; no soap-suds and white-wash for me."

"Hear him; house-cleaning in July!" exclaimed Agnes.

"I do believe, Guy, you men would never do a bit of cleaning all your lives, if you were house keepers."

"You may bet on that," was the reply. "That is just where we would show our good sense."

"Your filthy habits, you mean."

"Well, either, whichever suits you. But you haven't said what was in the wind."