Chapter X: Milly's Chamber

"OH, Aunt Priscilla! You're so kind to help me. Doesn't it look beautifully? What shall we do next?"

Mrs. Morgan paused and looked around her. They had made a beginning; but it was only a beginning. Every article was taken from the drawers; the books from the rack were tumbled over the floor.

"Why did you take down the books, my dear?" she asked mildly.

"I saw Emily dusting hers this morning, so I—"

"But you did not see her throw down the volumes in this way. You should take down two or three at a time, dust them and then put them back. You'll remember after this."

"Yes, indeed, Aunty."

"Perhaps we had better do the drawers first; and then we can have space to walk around. But what is this? Crumbs?"

"I put my cake there, the day my head ached; and then I forgot it."

"Oh, what a pity! See how it has soiled this pretty ribbon. I wouldn't bring cake up stairs. Hannah will take care of any such thing for you."

"I won't do it again. I'm going to be real good. Do you think, Aunt Priscilla, that I can be as good us Emily?"

"In what particular do you mean?"

"Why, as good a Christian. If I was, I'd be neat and kind as she is, of course."

"I hope, Milly, that you already love the Saviour. You know he came to wash and cleanse us from all sin. If you pray to him to help you conquer all your bad habits, he will do it. He always helps those who try to obey his commands; and you are trying now to do all things 'decently and in order.' You must remember that Emily has been taught to be neat from her babyhood."

"And I had nobody to tell me about anything good," exclaimed the child, with a burst of feeling.

"God our Father knows all that. He never expects from us more than we can do. While you were ignorant of the duty of cleanliness and order, he was not displeased with you for being untidy."

"But now he will be. But what if I forget?"

"No doubt you will occasionally; but every day your habit of neatness will be strengthening until it will never occur to you to throw your hat on one chair, your sack on the hall table, and your books somewhere else. You will hang your sack on this hook, put your hat on the shelf, and your books in the place I gave you for them."

"Oh, aunty! There's the door-bell. I do hope nobody will call to see you; but I could go on by myself now; at any rate I'd 'try, try again,' as the verse says."

"Mrs. Lang to see you, ma'am," said Hannah, opening the door.

Mrs. Morgan looked as though she was sorry; but Milly insisted that she could do the rest.

"Finish one drawer at a time then," said her aunt. "Find all the articles that go in it, and then take another."

"I'll sweep up your room for you," said Hannah, kindly. "There'll be a good many scraps about."

"Thank you, Hannah," and Milly began to sing at the top of her voice one of her favorite songs:

"Flowers, wild wood flowers."

At length, the upper drawer is in order. The child stands and gazes into it with pride.

"It looks just like Emily's," she murmurs. "Now, if I can only keep it so; but it is so hard when I am in a hurry, to stop and put back the things. I'll lock it till Emily comes. I'll ask her to bring grandma in here. Oh, what a nice grandma she is! What good stories she tells. Oh, here is the Chinese puzzle, Uncle George gave me!"

On the floor, she drops to put together the pieces of the game. Five, ten, fifteen minutes fly quickly away; but she is so absorbed in making squares and oblongs and parallelograms out of the smooth, ivory pieces, that she knows nothing about the time.

"Are you ready for me?" asks Hannah, coming in with a broom and dust pan. "Why, Milly, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Hannah." The child's tone was humble, and her countenance expressed such real regret that the girl could not scold, as at first she felt inclined to do.

"I've done one drawer, and it looks real nice; but then I found my puzzle, and I forgot. I'll fix the rest just as quick as I can."

"Well," said Hannah, "you ought not to have stopped to play till your work was done; but it can't be helped now. You just bring me all the under clothes, and I'll fold them for you. Seems to me I wouldn't toss everything about so again."

"No, I never shall. I'm beginning to be neat, now. Grandma has been telling us a story about it. You know the Hindoos and the Indians, and everybody who don't have the Bible, are filthy. The Bible says so," she added, earnestly, seeing Hannah smile. "And just as soon as they begin to be good, they clean their houses and wash themselves, and make their hair smooth. I knew a girl who did so in Calcutta. Her name was Waroo. She used to worship an idol. It was a little brass thing. She kept it hung on the wall. After she learned of the missionaries about God, she threw away her idol; and then she began to look real nice. Her sarree was clean; and her face washed. Papa asked her what had come over her, and she said 'I'm trying to be like the missionaries and worship their God.'"