The King's Daughter and Other Stories for Girls Read online

  THE KING'S DAUGHTER AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS

  1910

  "It is a prison, and the young girl is a king'sdaughter."]

  "WORDS FITLY SPOKEN"Every Story Contains an Important Lesson

  SABBATH READINGS FOR THE HOME CIRCLE]

  CONTENTS

  The King's DaughterThe Old Brown HouseA Story for School GirlsWhat One Lie DidTwo Ways of Reading the BibleCourtesy to StrangersLive for SomethingJennie BrowningPast and FutureAnna's DifficultyCompany MannersConfide in MotherThey Took Me InThe Little SistersA Valuable SecretTelling MotherA Story of School LifeHow Bess Managed TomA Little Girl's ThoughtsCareless Gracie's LessonVicarious PunishmentPatty's SecretMopsey's MistakeA Girl's SongCarrie's MarksSusie's PrayerThe Stolen OrangeWee Janet's ProblemBertha's GrandmotherPutting Off Till To-morrowNothing FinishedWhat's The UseSusy Diller's Christmas FeastThe Barn That BlossomedI Shall Not WantHow Dorothy Helped the AngelOne Girl's InfluenceTwo Kinds of ServiceDuty and PleasureThe Dangerous DoorThe Golden WindowsTrust Always: Never FretThe New LifeThe Impossible YesterdayA Child's PuzzleHow She Showed She Was Sorry

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  FrontispieceI WISH I WERE A PRINCESSIn the Temple PrisonExecution of Louis XVIQueen Marie Antoinette Led to the TribunalTHE OLD BROWN HOUSEDriven in for ShelterI Will Keep Your RoseIt Never Looked so Dirty BeforeAunt Ruth Must Have MovedBessie Meets Aunt RuthA STORY FOR SCHOOL GIRLSThe RecessWHAT ONE LIE DIDThe Spelling ClassI Did Not Tell a LieWill You Go With Me To-nightAt the GraveAmy's SorrowTWO WAYS OF READING THE BIBLEWhom I Shall See for MyselfCOURTESY TO STRANGERSJENNIE BROWNINGSaved Her Sister's LifeHe Pulled Jennie's HairThe Flame in the RugSmothering the FireANNA'S DIFFICULTYComing to a ConclusionCOMPANY MANNERSA Glass of WaterCONFIDE IN MOTHERTHEY TOOK ME INThank You, My DearTHE LITTLE SISTERSExplaining the RuleBoth Sisters at SchoolA VALUABLE SECRETTELLING MOTHERA STORY OF SCHOOL LIFEJust the Amount, I BelieveBegged to be ReleasedIn the Sick RoomThe Book at the LoomCrying Like a BabyHOW BESS MANAGED TOMCARELESS GRACIE'S LESSONWe Are InvitedIn the AutomobileVICARIOUS PUNISHMENTPATTY'S SECRETWill You Ask for Me?MOPSEY'S MISTAKEDis for 'ouA GIRL'S SONGCARRIE'S MARKSSUSIE'S PRAYERHe Said, Father DrinksThe PrayerTHE STOLEN ORANGEBlindman's BuffHere It Is, MamaWEE JANET'S PROBLEMJanet ScreamedThe Robin's NestBERTHA'S GRANDMOTHERA Handsome HouseHere They AreMrs. Bell and GrandmaIsn't Your Grandmother Funny?I Am DisappointedGrandma's Early HomeThe Carriage for GrandmaNOTHING FINISHEDSUSY DILLER'S CHRISTMAS FEASTThey Shivered With the ColdBefore the RestaurantOn the DoorstepIn a Heap by the FireThe Christmas FeastO Mother! Mother!THE BARN THAT BLOSSOMEDI Believe I've Hit ItIn the AtticScrubbing the FloorYour New HouseHOW DOROTHY HELPED THE ANGELEncourage SomebodyCheer UpHope OnBroke the CrustI Mean ItI'm Not Tired NowThe Twenty-seventh PsalmONE GIRL'S INFLUENCETWO KINDS OF SERVICESupper's Ready.What Is It, Aunt Sarah?DUTY AND PLEASURECarried It Like a BabyConfessing to MamaTHE DANGEROUS DOORTHE GOLDEN WINDOWSTruly Golden WindowsTHE NEW LIFEWe Might Sign a PaperTHE IMPOSSIBLE YESTERDAYCan't Make Yesterday Over AgainA CHILD'S PUZZLESHOWED THAT SHE WAS SORRY

  THE KING'S DAUGHTER

  "I wish I were a princess!"

  Emma stood with the dust-brush in her hand, pausing on her way upstairsto her own pretty little white room, which she was required to put inorder every day.

  "Why, my child?" asked her mother.

  "Because then I would never have to sweep and dust and make beds, butwould have plenty of servants to do these things for me."

  "That is a very foolish wish, my daughter, but even if you were aprincess, I think you would find it best to learn how to do thesethings, so that you could do them in case of necessity."

  "But it is never necessary for princesses to work."

  "There my little girl proves her ignorance. If she will come to me afterher work is done, I will show her a picture."

  The little bedroom was at length put to rights, and Emma came to hermother, reminding her of her promise about the picture.

  "What do you see, my child?" her mother asked, as she laid the picturebefore her daughter.

  "I see a young girl with her dress fastened up, an apron on, and a broomin her hand."

  "Can you tell me what kind of place she is in?"

  "I do not know. There are walls and arches of stone, and a bare stonefloor. I don't think it can be a pleasant place."

  "No, it is not. It is a prison, and the young girl is a king'sdaughter."

  "A king's daughter!"

  "Yes; and her story is a very sad one."

  "Please tell me about her."

  "Many years ago the king of France was Louis XVI, and his wife was MarieAntoinette. They were not a wicked king and queen, but they werethoughtless and fond of pleasure.

  "They forgot that it was their duty to look after the good of theirpeople; so they spent money extravagantly in their own pleasures, whilethe whole nation was suffering.

  "The people became dissatisfied; and when, finally, Louis and MarieAntoinette saw the mistake they had been making, and tried to changetheir conduct, it was too late.

  "The people, urged on by their leaders, learned to hate their king andqueen. They were taken, with their two children, and shut up in a prisoncalled the Temple.

  "There were dreadful times in France then, and every one who wassuspected of being friendly to the king and his family was sent toprison and to the guillotine. The prisoners in the Temple passed thetime as best they could.

  "The king gave lessons to his son and daughter every day, or read aloudto them all, while Marie Antoinette, Madame Elizabeth, and the youngMarie Theresa sewed.

  Louis XVI and Family in the Temple Prison]

  "After awhile the angry people took away the king and beheaded him. Andshortly after the little son was separated from his mother, sister, andaunt, and shut up by himself in the charge of a cruel jailor.

  "Next it was Marie Antoinette's turn to ascend the scaffold, which shedid October 16, 1793. Her daughter, Marie Theresa, was then left alonewith her aunt, the Madame Elizabeth.

  "But it was not long she was allowed this companionship. MadameElizabeth was taken away and beheaded, and then the poor young girl ofsixteen was left entirely by herself in a dismal prison, guarded andwaited on by brutal soldiers.

  _Execution of Louis XVI_]

  "For a year and a half she lived thus, leading the most wretchedexistence, and not knowing whether her mother and aunt were alive ordead. Years afterward, when she was free, she wrote about her life inprison. In that we read:--"'I only asked for the simple necessities oflife, and these they often harshly refused me. I was, however, enabledto keep myself clean. I had at least soap and water, and I swept out myroom every day.'

  "So here in the picture you see a king's daughter, and thegranddaughter of an empress (Marie Theresa of Austria, one of the mostremarkable women in history), after having carefully made her toilet,sweeping the bare stone floor of her cell.

  "Which do you think caused her the most satisfaction in those dark daysof trial: the remembrance that she was the daughter of a king? or theknowledge of domestic duties, which she had probably learned while shewas a happy, envied princess, living in a palace and surrounded by agreat many servants!"

  "Is that a true story?"

  "Yes, Emma, every word of it; and there is much, much more that I cannottell you now."

  "What became of her at last?"

  "She was finally released from prison, and sent to Austria to hermother's friends; but it was a full year after she reached Vienna beforeshe smiled; and though she lived to be seventy years old, she neverforgot the terrible sufferings of her prison life.

  "But, my child, what I wish to teach you is, that though it is sometimesvery pleasant to be a princ
ess, it may be most unfortunate at othertimes. But always remember, my dear girl, that a knowledge ofhousekeeping never comes amiss, and every young woman, no matter whatthe circumstances are, will be far happier and more useful forpossessing that knowledge."

  Children do not always comprehend everything at once; so I will not saythat Emma soon learned to take delight in dusting and sweeping. But bearin mind that that woman is the most queenly, who uses her wisdom and herstrength for the benefit of those around her, shrinking from no dutythat she should perform, but doing it cheerfully and well.

  _Queen Marie Antoinette Led to the Tribunal_]

  THE OLD BROWN HOUSE

  It was very old, low-roofed, and weather-beaten, standing quite a littlestretch from the road, and you might have supposed it deserted but forthe thin column of smoke that wound slowly above the roof, so desolatedid it look.

  But it was inhabited, and could you have pushed aside the creaking door,you might have seen an old woman, wrinkled and gray, sitting by thesilent hearth, stirring the dull fire, or looking absently from thewindow.

  It was Aunt Ruth Jones, as the neighbors called her, of whom little wasknown, except that she was a queer old woman--a sort of hermit, livingall alone in the neglected old house. It had come into her possession,with a small farm adjoining, by the death of her parents some thirtyyears before.

  At first the neighbors were curious to see the new occupant; they founda tall, spare woman, then about thirty-four years of age, little givento gossip, shy, and cold. Some affirmed that she was proud, and otherssaid that her life had been one of disappointment. But none hadsucceeded in drawing out her story, and gradually the old brown houseand its occupant were left to themselves.

  Years had wrought changes; the walls were now darkened with smoke, thewindows dingy, the floor sunken in; there was nothing cheery in theill-kept room, or in the face of Aunt Ruth. Some natures becomeshriveled and cramped when left to themselves, and hers was such an one;I am afraid it was also narrowed and hardened by being shut off fromhumanity, with none to share her joys or grief, or to care indeed, ifshe had any.

  As the days came and went, they brought nothing to her but a littleround of chores, a bit of patchwork, or straw braiding, and occasionallya walk to the village store to buy the few articles she required.

  The gay dresses and pert stare of the village girls, the glimpses ofhappy homes caught through the windows, and the noisy stir of life, onlymade more striking the contrast of her own lonely lot. Gladly would shehasten back to her own silent fireside, where the cats, at least, wereglad of her presence. Old Brindle knew her step, and tossed her headimpatiently for nubbins of corn, or the pail of slop with which she waswont to be treated. The hens cackled merrily, and scarcely stirred fromtheir tracks, as her dress brushed their shining feathers.

  The care of these creatures was a kind of company, and on frostymornings Aunt Ruth might be seen watching them eating so greedily,while her own breakfast was yet untasted, and her feet and fingersbenumbed with cold.

  Though none shared her heart or home, yet there was sometimes one brightpresence within those dim walls, a childish, questioning voice, andsweet laughter.

  It was Bessie Lane. One June day, on her way to school, a sudden dash ofrain had driven the child there for shelter. And ever since, the happylittle girl, with flaxen hair and clear eyes, would go to the forsakenold house to chat with Aunt Ruth. As that springing step was heard, andthe latch lifted, there would come a gleam of brightness to the fadedeyes, and a smile to the thin mouth.

  _"A sudden dash of rain had driven the child there forshelter."_]

  The child found ready entrance to the lonely heart; children will, youknow, they are so "queer," as wise old heads sometimes affirm.

  "What in the world makes you visit that old hermit?" said Eliza Ray,her schoolmate, one morning. "Bridget, our hired girl, says she is suresuch a looking old hag must be a witch."

  "Witch or not, I like her;" and Bessie Lane tossed up her hat, andpranced off after a fox squirrel just down the road.

  So Bessie kept up her visits, and the two would sit and talk together bythe hour, Aunt Ruth showing her long-treasured trinkets, relics of yearsgone by, and detailing their history, till Bessie's eyes would dilatewith wonder.

  On this wintry morning, in which we have introduced her to you, sittingby the dull fire, and looking from the dingy window, the time ofBessie's absence had been longer than usual. The sky was leaden, and thewind whistled down the chimney and shook the casements.

  Suddenly Aunt Ruth starts and peers through the window. There is abright little hood and blue cloak approaching; she sees that, but notthe carefully wrapped parcel Bessie is carrying, for she hurries tobrighten the fire and brush the hearth.

  "Good morning, Aunt Ruth. It has been ever so long since I have beenhere, hasn't it?"

  "Yes, a long time for a lonesome old body like me; but this is no placefor the young and happy, I know."

  "Oh, yes it is, dear Aunt Ruthie. You must not say so. I like to comereal well. But Uncle Jake has been so sick; he sent for pa and ma, and Iwent with them. It is such a long way off, I thought we never would getthere. And Oh, Aunt Ruth, I have not told you yet"--and the chubby facesobered.

  "What is it, child?" picking up bits of litterings from the floor.Somehow she always did so when Bessie was around, the handsinvoluntarily moved in little touches of order and neatness. The roomwas good enough for her: for the child it seemed dismal and must bebrightened a little. But Aunt Ruth was unconscious that she was beingcalled to a better life, or that a love for light and beauty wasawakening in her weary heart.

  "Well, I will tell you; we are going to move away. I declare, I thinkit's too bad to leave all the girls just as I began to like them, andyou, too, Aunt Ruth. I don't want to go one bit;" tears rolling down herface.

  "Going away, my little girl going off?" said Aunt Ruth seriously.

  "Yes; and mamma said we couldn't move Chip, it would be such a bother,so I have given poor birdie away to Allie Smith;" tears flowing afresh."I let Amy Wells have my kitten, but I haven't found a place for my poorlittle rose. See," said Bessie, going to the table and removing thewrapper from her parcel, "isn't it a beauty? You will keep it toremember me by, and take care of it always, won't you, Aunt Ruth?"

  The little blossoms were out in full, and seemed to smile a benedictionupon the old woman.

  "Yes, yes, child, I will keep your rose; no harm shall come to it." Thelittle plant seemed to carry her thoughts away, for she began talkingabsently to herself, then recalling her musings she said:--"So you aregoing away; and you'll forget all about poor Aunt Ruth with so many newfriends. Well, well, it's natural."

  "Yes, child, I will keep your rose."]

  "No, no, indeed I shall not," said Bessie, giving her a hearty hug, "andsometime I will come to see you." They talked a long time, but at last,with a good-by kiss to Aunt Ruth, and to the pet rose, she was gone likea flitting sunbeam.

  Then the shadows seemed to come back to the inmate of the old house; butas her glance fell upon the little flower, she began clearing a placefor it to stand in the warmest corner, musing to herself the while:--

  "Just such roses I used to carry in my hand to the old stone church inAmsden when no bigger than Bessie. It seems like yesterday, but ah! itis a long time. Maybe if I could do like that again, it would not be sodark and lonesome like. I think I'll put the rose here by the southwindow, then if the child ever does come, she will see it from thegate."

  "It never looked quite so dirty before."]

  Bringing a little pine stand, she carefully placed the plant upon it. Indoing so, she chanced to glance at the window. "Bless me! it neverlooked quite so dirty before;" and Aunt Ruth moved with new life, as shecleansed, rinsed, and polished the glass. But this being done, the oldmuslin curtain seemed dingier than common, shading the clear glass; soit was taken down, and another finer one unpacked from a drawer and putin its place.

  The next morning, as she ate her lonely b
reakfast, she placed her chairto face the window and the rose. The sun was shining, and as the raysstreamed across the room to the opposite wall, she marked the cobwebs.That day the cobwebs were swept down, the other window washed, and thefloor cleaned. The old house had not been so neat and cheery for manyyears.

  Near the close of the week she went to the village, this time putting ona dark delaine, instead of the snuff calico with a yellow flower.Somehow the gay dresses and curious glances did not disturb her as muchas usual. A pleasant recognition was passed with a neighbor whom she hadnot spoken to for a year.

  A strange feeling had come over her,--a feeling that she was one of thegreat human family after all, and the icy mountain of reserve began tothaw just a little. Her purchases made, she concluded to take anotherroad home. This route lay past a church. It was lighted, though early,and a few real worshipers had met to pray before the regular service.

  They were singing now, and Aunt Ruth paused, as a clear, triumphantvoice bore up the strain,--

  "Plunged in a gulf of dark despair."

  Spell-bound, she listened to its close, never stirring from her trackstill a group of people passed near, then slowly walking on, you mighthave heard her talking again to herself:--

  "O Ruth Jones, where are you? I used to sing that, too, in the same oldchurch where I carried the roses, only it was years after. I used topray, too. I wonder if God would hear me now."

  That night, and many nights after, she could not sleep; the words ofsong kept ringing in her ears, bringing up the old scenes andassociations, till the great deep of her soul was broken up.