Chapter II: Self-Denial

ELSIE walked home from school in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. Her refusal to pledge herself to knit for the soldiers had arisen from no lukewarmness to the cause, nor did she at all doubt her own power to produce as good workmanship as any of her schoolmates; for she was a skilful knitter, and had made many a pair of warm stockings and mittens for her brothers. But, what with studies and home-duties, her time was very fully occupied already, and she really did not see how or where she was to find time for any thing more. She was now likely to be even more hurried than usual. She had always been very desirous of taking music-lessons, and expected to begin them in the course of the week, and she knew that the necessary practice would occupy at least two hours in the day. Then there was fall sewing to do for herself and the children. The more she considered the subject, the more her labours seemed to accumulate,—until she began to think, like the discontented pendulum, that she might as well stop work altogether.

She had been deeply wounded, too, by Henrietta's thoughtless and unkind speech, and the significant glances and shrugs of Minny and her adherents. Even Miss Milford had said,—

"Why, Elsie, I thought your patriotism was equal to any effort."

Only Miss Armitage and Rose Chesterfield had expressed no surprise, and she was a little comforted by the thought that they at least understood her. As she passed by Whitney's store, she had a glimpse of Hetty and her mother within; and Hetty held up her bunch of yarn with a significant smile.

The tears came to Elsie's eyes; but she drew her veil over her face and walked rapidly home. Her mother was standing at the door, dressed to go out.

"Elsie, my dear, you are a little late."

"Yes, mother: you know I had to stop on the way to do Aunt Wentworth's errand; and it took me some time."

"Very well, my child: I dare say it is all right; but now I want you to take the baby for an hour and let me go out. I must try and get the children's new flannels in hand, or we shall never have them done."

"Always the way!" thought poor Elsie, as she went up-stairs. "Never a moment to myself, from morning till night."

But a moment's reflection conquered the impatience.

"After all, it is just what I am made for," she said to herself, as she hung up her cloak and smoothed her hair: "there would be no great comfort in working for the soldiers if it prevented me from helping mother at home. Now, baby, if you will only be good and sit on the floor, I can learn my History lesson, and so have a little more time after tea."

The baby was in the best of humours, and willing to amuse herself upon the carpet for a full half-hour. But at the end of that time, she imperatively demanded attention, nor would she allow Elsie to hold her and her book at the same time.

"Why, you little torment!" said Elsie, giving up the attempt. "I shall be glad when you are grown-up and out of the way a little. There now, the book is put away, and you shall have sister all to yourself, and eat her up if you like. So she was a darling, if she was a little plague."

Elsie said nothing to her mother about what had passed at school till after tea. But when that was over, Mr. Probert gone out, and the younger children put to bed, the subject was opened.

"How tired and fretted you look, my dear! I am afraid you had a hard time with the baby. Was she naughty?"

"No, mother: she was very good: only she would not let me study."

"Babies generally have a great objection to a division of labour," remarked Mrs. Probert. "They like to engross the whole attention of those who take care of them. But I am sure something unpleasant has happened. You are not used to wear such a distressed face for nothing, or for a slight cause."

"It was something that happened in school, mother." She detailed the occurrences of the morning, adding, apologetically, "It was not much to worry about, after all; but I could not help being vexed at what Hetty said. I am sure I am as willing to work for the soldiers as any one, if I could only find the time."

"And the money," said her mother. "Yarn costs something, you know,—not much, to be sure; but, now that your father's income is so much lessened and our expenses are so great, I do not like to spend a single cent more than is absolutely necessary."

"But father did give something for the soldiers, mother."

"All he could afford, Elsie, and perhaps a little more."

"I have thought of a way to buy the yarn," said Elsie, after a ten minutes' pause: "that is, if you are willing—"

"Well, my dear?" said her mother, as Elsie paused.

"You know the money Aunt Wentworth gave me for hemstitching the ruffles for those pillow-cases? I have three dollars left, that I was saving to buy Christmas presents with. If you would explain it to the children when Christmas comes, and if you and father did not mind—"

"My love," said her mother, tenderly, "don't you know that your father and I would be more gratified with such a sacrifice on your part than by any present that could be bought for money? And as for the children, I undertake that there shall be no disappointment on their part. You know, too, that Aunt Wentworth always overwhelms them with presents. But, my dear, I see another hindrance, much more serious than this. What will become of your subscription to the Christmas-tree at school?"

Elsie sighed. "I must give it up and stay at home: that's all. I don't care so much about it now as I should a little while ago, when things were different."

"My dear Elsie, I know very well how you feel about it," said her mother, sympathizingly. "Such things are very unpleasant, as I know by my own experience; but you must try to bear it bravely. The simple truth is that you have rather overrated your friend, and now you are in danger of going to the other extreme. I think Henrietta will find out her mistake after a little while. She is really a good, warmhearted girl, though a little apt to be dazzled by whatever is new."

"But there is another trouble, mother," said Elsie, after a little pause. "I don't see, really, how I am to get any time."

"I thought of that, myself," said Mrs. Probert.

"You see, there are my lessons," pursued Elsie. "I really 'cannot' learn them all in school, work as hard as I may; and I don't like to drop any of them. Then there is practising, when I begin to take lessons, and helping you at home; and then all this great pile of sewing," she added, looking despairingly at the heaped-up basket. "I don't see, work as I will, how it is to be done."

Mrs. Probert sighed in her turn. She felt all the time that her oldest daughter was over-burdened for a girl of her age, and tried her best to relieve her. But relief was not so easy with four younger children,—three of them boys and one a baby,—one not very efficient servant, and a limited income.

"Suppose we drop the subject for the present, and sleep upon it, as Aunt Wentworth says," said she, after a little consideration. "Don't work any more at that flannel just now. Put it away, and read me the nest chapter of Motley."

Reading aloud was always a great pleasure to Elsie, as well as to her mother. The siege of Leyden soon drew her attention from her own embarrassments, and her intense indignation at "the stupidity of the Dutchmen" quite dissipated, for the time, her indignation at Henrietta.

"I declare, mother," she said, as she finished the chapter and closed the book, "it is quite a comfort to find that other people have made as great mistakes as ourselves!"

"I am not sure it is a very amiable kind of comfort," replied her mother, smiling. "But now go to bed, my dear; and don't have a blue yarn nightmare, if you can help it."

Things looked a little brighter to Elsie in the morning,—as they are apt to do after a night's rest. She could not help hoping that some way would be opened to enable her to accomplish what she had set her heart upon. As she thought over all her lessons for the day, she said to herself, "I must get up earlier in the morning, now that I have to practise."

At that moment a thought flashed upon her mind which sent the colour to her cheeks. What if she should give up her music-lessons for this quarter, and take that time for her knitting? It would be a great sacrifice, for Elsie was fond of music, and could already play very well, and she had been looking forward to her lessons with great pleasure for three months past. Still, it was to be thought of. She considered the matter in every light.

"Aunt Wentworth would not care. She gave me the money, to be sure; but she said at the time she thought I had quite enough to do already. I think father and mother would be willing, for they said I might do as I liked about beginning now or in the spring. But then I had so set my heart upon it! Then there is another thing: I have spoken to Miss M. about it, and, of course, she depends upon me. No: I don't see how it can be done."

Elsie said nothing more to her mother about the socks.

As she was walking leisurely along to school, she was overtaken by Rose Chesterfield. Rose was the oldest girl in the school, and was looked up to by all her companions, partly for her talents and accomplishments, but still more for her straightforward truthfulness and her readiness to assist every one in difficulties. She was, however, rather cold and reserved in her manners, and had the reputation of being very proud.

"Good-morning, Elsie," she said, as she came up with our young friend and walked along by her side. "Do you know you have been very much in my way this morning?"

"I didn't know it, I'm sure," returned Elsie, in surprise. "How do you mean, Rose?"

"Why, I have just been to Miss M., to ask her to take my sister into her musical class. But she says she has given you the last vacant place, and will have no other till next quarter. So Belle must wait,—though she will be sadly disappointed."

"Why doesn't she go to some one else?" asked Elsie.

"Perhaps she may; but mother thinks so highly of Miss M.'s method, and she says so much depends upon beginning rightly, that I think she will prefer to wait."

"Are you going home, or going to school, Rose?" asked Elsie, after they had walked a little farther, conversing on indifferent subjects.

"I thought of going home first," returned Rose; "but it does not mutter much. Why?"

"Will you please not to say any thing about the music-lessons till night? Something has happened which makes me rather doubtful about beginning this quarter, and, if I decide to give it up, Belle can take my place."

"Why, Elsie, I thought you wanted to begin music, of all things," said Rose, surprised. "Pray don't think of giving up on Belle's account."

"Oh, no," said Elsie, smiling: "I am not quite so good as that. But I want very much to do something else, and I don't see how I am to accomplish it unless I give up my music for the present."

"Knitting socks, eh?" said Rose, smiling.

"I did not think you would guess," returned Elsie, smiling in her turn, and also blushing a little. "But, Rose, please don't say a word about it in school. I am not sure that mother will be willing, you know."

"I understand. But, Elsie, I am sure of one thing. There is not a girl in the school but yourself who would dream of making such a sacrifice. I am afraid I should not be equal to it,—though I am pretty patriotic, too."

"How came you to guess what it was?" asked Elsie.

"I heard what you said yesterday about finding time," said Rose, "and also what Henrietta said to you. Minny Granger is spoiling that girl, and several others beside her. I am glad you have not joined her clique, Elsie. She is not a friend to do good to any one."

"I am sure she has done no good in one case," said Elsie, sadly. "Hetty is a different girl from what she was before Minny came: I don't mean to me only, but every way. She don't care half so much about her lessons, and all she seems to think of is dressing and going out."

"I hope that is the worst of it," said Rose. "I have always thought Henrietta very straightforward—"

"She is!" interrupted Elsie, eagerly. "I do assure you, Rose, she is as open as the day."

"I don't see, then, how she can like Minny so well, for Minny is any thing but that."

"Do you really think so?" asked Elsie. "I have had suspicions myself, but I thought perhaps I was unjust."

"I am sure of it," said Rose. "She no more writes those compositions than I do. By-and-by, you will see, Miss Armitage will be suspicious, and then there will be an explosion; but that is no business of mine. Well, then, Elsie, I shall say nothing decided to mother till I hear positively from you."

"If you please," said Elsie; and the two girls separated.

At recess, nothing was talked of but the socks, and several of the girls brought out their work to show how much they had already accomplished. Elsie could not help thinking that the soldiers would be none the better for some of the socks unless their latter end should be more prosperous than their beginning; but she kept her suspicions to herself, and was content with giving advice when it was asked,—which indeed, was pretty often, for Elsie was well-known as an experienced knitter.

"Haven't you begun yet, Elsie?" asked one of the girls.

"No: I should like it very much, but I don't see my way clear just yet."

"It takes some people a great while to make up their minds," said Minny, significantly. "It's a good thing for the soldiers that every one don't think so long before they do any thing."

Elsie's colour rose a little, but she answered gently, "You haven't quite so much to do at home as I have, Minny. We have a large family, and I must help mother all I can about sewing, and taking care of the children."

"Does your mother take in sewing?" asked Minny.

Elsie laughed outright: "No, indeed! I should think not. She has sewing enough to do without taking in any, considering that there are three boys in the family to work for, besides my father."

"Mercy on me!" said Grace Newland. "How do you ever contrive to learn so many lessons? I should think you would never have a minute to yourself. I'm sure I don't wonder that you don't want to knit."

"I do want to knit, Grace; but you see how it was that I could not promise at once. I have been thinking over every way, and I don't see how to set about it."

"Why do you come to school, then, if your mother is so poor and has so much to do?" asked Minny, who seemed this morning more than usually bent upon ruffling Elsie's serenity. "I should think you would go out to work and try to support yourself. I dare say mother would help you to find a place."

Elsie could not quite trust herself to answer this piece of impertinence. But Rose Chesterfield came to her aid:—

"I wish your mother would help you to find 'your' place and keep it, Minny! Your impertinence is rather beyond any thing I ever saw."

"Dear me! What did I say?" asked Minny, in a tone of injured innocence. "I only asked."

"You only said what you knew to be false, and asked a rude question, purposely to insult Elsie," interrupted Rose. "If I hear any thing more of the kind, I will tell Miss Armitage and see what she will say. Never mind, Elsie. Learn to take Minny and her speeches at their real value, and you will care very little for either."

It was not altogether what Minny said that had annoyed Elsie. It was seeing her former fast friend, Henrietta, standing by, without even an effort to interfere in her behalf. Try as she might to avoid it, the tears would gather in her eyes; her heart swelled with violent emotion, and, once safely back at her desk, she could not help putting her head down and giving way to her grief.

Hetty heard her sobs, and longed to go and comfort her, but she had held aloof from her so long that she felt a degree of awkwardness at making any advances towards a reconciliation. Besides, Minny might laugh at her; and she had learned to have a great dread of Minny's laugh.

As soon as school was out, Elsie hurried home and opened the plan to her mother.

"But, Elsie, that will be a great sacrifice! You have long wished to take music-lessons, and you may not have such another opportunity very soon. You know if you do not begin now, you must wait till the first of next quarter,—nearly three months."

"I know it, mother. I have considered all that. I thought it all over this morning, and almost decided to do it, but I felt myself bound by my engagement to Miss M. But of course it will make no difference to her if Belle takes my place."

"True; but it will make a decided difference to you. However, you may do as you please: only consider it well beforehand. It is an unpleasant thing, you know, to make a sacrifice and be sorry for it afterwards."

"Yea, mother, I know; but this will not be altogether a sacrifice,—not such a very great sacrifice, at least; for you know I can read while I am knitting."

"True," replied her mother, smiling: "that is an alleviation, I grant. Well, my love, I have no objection to your pleasing yourself, as I said. I suppose, of course, you will like to begin directly?"

"Yes, mother, if you please. I told Rose I would let her know to-night, and I thought it you could spare me to run up to Mrs. Chesterfield's, I would buy the yarn as I came back."

Mrs. Probert saw no objection. The yarn was purchased and wound, and when Elsie went to bed that night, she had the comfort of seeing a satisfactory commencement of her work.