Gem of Neatness:

OR,

THE COUSINS.

BY

MRS. MADELINE LESLIE

"Let all things be done decently and in order."—I COR 14:40.

BOSTON:

ANDREW F. GRAVES.

20 CORNHILL.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, BY A. R. BAKER, D.D. In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

J. D. Flagg & Co. 51 Walter and 57 Congress Sta. Boston.

LIST

OF

SPARKLING GEMS

FOR YOUTH.

SERIES FOR GIRLS.

VOL. I. GEM OF COURTESY.

VOL. II. GEM OF COURAGE.

VOL. III. GEM OF FAITHFULNESS.

VOL. IV. GEM OF NEATNESS.

VOL. V. GEM OF TRUTHFULNESS.

VOL. VI. GEM OF EARNESTNESS.

LIST

OF

SPARKLING GEMS

FOR YOUTH.

SERIES FOR BOYS.

VOL. I. GEM OF UPRIGHTNESS.

VOL. II. GEM OF SELF-DENIAL.

VOL. III. GEM OF PERSEVERANCE.

VOL. IV. GEM OF TEMPERANCE.

VOL. V. GEM OF SELF-CONTROL.

VOL. VI. GEM OF GENEROSITY.

DEDICATION.

MY DEAR LITTLE HARRY: I HAVE DEDICATED THESE SMALL VOLUMES TO YOU, PRAYING THAT THE GEMS OF WHICH THEY TREAT, MAY ADORN YOUR CROWN IN THE CORONATION DAY OF CHRIST'S BELOVED. Your affectionate grandmother, THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

THE author of these volumes recently attended the commencement of a seminary, in which sparkling crowns were placed on the heads of such of the graduates as had been distinguished for diligence, faithfulness, neatness and other virtues. Being very much pleased with the design, I have appropriated the idea in these small volumes.

On the illuminated title page, the teacher and pupils appear. He holds up to their view a sparkling gem, just taken from his cabinet. We may imagine him explaining to them, that these precious stones are used in the Bible as emblems of the different graces which adorn the character of Christians, even as God says: these graces "shall be as the stones of a crown," put upon their heads.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. EMILY'S BUREAU

CHAPTER II. OLD FRIENDS

CHAPTER III. MILLY'S ARRIVAL

CHAPTER IV. MILLY AT PRAYERS

CHAPTER V. MILLY AT TABLE

CHAPTER VI. MILLY'S REQUEST

CHAPTER VII. GRANDMA'S ARRIVAL

CHAPTER VIII. THE MISSIONARIES

CHAPTER IX. ORDER FROM CONFUSION

CHAPTER X. MILLY'S CHAMBER

CHAPTER XI. A DRIVE TO THE BEACH

CHAPTER XII. MILLY'S ESCAPE

GEM OF NEATNESS.

CHAPTER I.

EMILY'S BUREAU.

MRS. MORGAN stood at the door of her little daughter's chamber, a bright smile of satisfaction illumining her countenance. Presently she stepped back into the hall, and, leaning over the balustrade, called out:

"Cousin Mary, come up here a moment."

A light step on the stairs, and cousin Mary stood by her side.

"This is Emily's room," said her mamma—"just as she left it for school. Everything has a place, and is in its place."

Mrs. Roby, who was cousin Mary, entered the neat chamber, her eyes beaming with pleasure.

"It looks just like Emily," she said in an enthusiastic tone.

"See! That book-rack,—How very even the row of volumes, and not one speck of dust on them;—and this tiny vase, with one carnation-pink! Priscilla, your daughter is a jewel of a girl as our old Pat used to say. Her habit of neatness and order will be worth a fortune to her."

"She is naturally neat and orderly," added Mrs. Morgan. "When she was not more than three years old, she used to want to help when I dusted the parlors. I always take that duty on myself, you know. So Emily must have an old veil tied over her golden curls, because mamma wore a veil to keep off the dust; and she must have a piece of silk for a duster. It was too funny to see her fly from one chair to another, just as soon as I had dusted it, and rub, rub, with all her strength."

"Does she take the entire care of her room?"

"Yes, now she does," answered mamma. "Hannah used to open the bed, and turn the mattress; but she was so anxious to do it all; and sometimes she had to wait for Hannah to get through with other work, so her father had the mattress carried to the upholsterer's, and cut in two parts. She can lift it now without any difficulty."

While Mrs. Morgan was speaking, her cousin had gone toward the bureau, and with her hands on the knobs of the upper drawer asked:

"May I look?"

"Certainly."

It was, indeed, a beautiful sight. A box in one of the front corners contained a pile of pocket handkerchiefs. Another at the left was filled with ribbons of various colors used for her hair and her neck. Each piece was rolled up nicely and laid by itself. Then there was a tiny box, holding a pretty brooch,—her last birthday gift from papa. A black silk apron and two or three white ones neatly folded lay at the back part of the drawer.

The next two contained different kinds of under clothes, each variety in a pile by itself.

"She puts everything away herself," explained her mamma. "Hannah lays her clean clothes on the bed, as they come up from the wash; and when she comes home she takes care of them without being reminded to do so. But look here?"

The lady opened the underdrawer, and displayed a beautiful wax doll covered with a small quilt pieced from tiny scraps of bright-colored silk. Miss Rose Standish lay with a sweet smile on her round face; and well she might smile, for there within her reach at the back part of the drawer was every thing in the shape of a wardrobe which the most extravagant dolly could desire. There was a set of white furs, muff and tippet to match; and another set of gray with the cunningest little wristers you ever saw. There were hats with plumes, and hats with velvet trimmings, and sacks, and skirts, and shoes and parasol to shade the little Miss from the sun. Oh, it would be easier to tell what there was not!

"It's a perfect show," exclaimed Mrs. Roby. "It's as good as Barnum's baby show. I wonder what aunt Lydia will say to it."

"The best of it is," added mamma, "that she has made the most of the clothes herself. I used to cut and baste for her; but of late, she has had a pattern and cut them herself. Her father says he hopes she will play with dolls till she is married. He is enthusiastic on the subject. Why, you'd laugh to hear him talk. He believes that, the dressing and undressing of dolls, and disciplining them, as Emily does hers, is the very best preparation for the duties of a mother that a child can possibly have. He would give Emily any amount of money she would ask to buy materials to make up for Miss Rose. By and by, I must tell you a story about that gray set of furs."

"Tell me now, please. I'm sure," added Mrs. Roby laughing, "if I had ever disbelieved in hereditary traits, I would give up my doubts after this."

"What do you mean?"

"Why from the stories I've heard Aunt Lydia tell about you, I think Emily is just her mamma over again."

"Yes, I used to be ridiculously fond of dolls, there is no denying it; but in those days, a wax doll was a thing unknown. My best doll was a beauty though. She had eyes that shone like diamonds, and painted curls. I used to call her Esther, after Queen Esther, I suppose; and I was very proud of her."

CHAPTER II.

OLD FRIENDS.

MRS. MORGAN shut the bureau as she spoke, saying with a smile: "Emily will know in a minute, that somebody has been to her drawers."

"I had better confess beforehand then. Are you going to sew now?"

"Yes, I'll be ready presently."

Ina few moments, Mrs. Morgan joined her cousin in the pleasant sitting-room. But before I tell you what they talked about, I wish to explain who these two ladies were.

Mrs. Morgan was the wife of a gentleman of good fortune connected with the great Express lines from north to south. They were both members of the Episcopal Church; and it was their earnest prayer that they might be not professors only, but possessors of vital godliness. During the first years of their married life, they went much into company, attended balls and concerts night after night. By this means, they lost much of the fervor of their religion.

Indeed, so conformed were they to the world and its pleasures, that they could scarcely be distinguished from the world's people. But their Father in heaven was watching over them. He saw into their hearts, and he knew that even while involved in this round of gayety, they were not satisfied. He knew there were times when they turned with loathing from all this hollow friendship, and longed for the quiet happiness they once enjoyed. God in his abounding kindness had a purpose of mercy toward these his wandering children; and he took means to bring them back to himself.

He removed first a beautiful babe who had scarcely opened its eyes in this world, to his paradise above. Then, when this did not wean the mother from circles of fashion, from the theatre and opera, he took another child, a darling boy, the pride of both parents, to swell the song of infant worshippers before his throne. A few months later, and while their hearts were still bleeding with sorrow, Emily their first-born and best-beloved was seized with scarlet-fever, and lay for days hovering between life and death.

Now, when the waves and the billows of trouble were rolling over them, they began to call upon God for help. But to their aching hearts, he did not seem a refuge near at hand. He appeared to be afar off, so far that their cry could not reach him. But if not to their heavenly Father, to whom could they go in their deep distress? Then they began to feel that they had sinned.

In their days of prosperity, they had forgotten to give thanks. They mourned together over the sinfulness which had led them far away from real happiness; and then in infinite compassion, their elder brother, their Saviour appeared to comfort them. The gracious spirit suggested words of cheer: "Return unto me, and I will return unto you."

By the bedside of their sick and apparently dying child, they renewedly consecrated themselves and all that they had, to the service of their Saviour. They bowed in sweet submission to the will of God. They cried indeed "Spare her, Lord," but from the heart they added, "if such be thy holy will."

And a merciful God did spare the child. She was gradually restored to perfect health. From this time her parents commenced a new life. They were constant at church. They took classes in the Sunday school. They visited the poor and afflicted. They did all in their power to stay up the hands of their faithful pastor.

All the energy and activity they had before displayed in the invention of new pleasures were now employed for the good of those about them. They were indeed a blessing in society; and in blessing others, they received a rich reward in their own hearts. One glance into the serene countenance of Mrs. Morgan showed that her soul was at peace.

Sickness and sorrow might come as it comes to every one; but she felt that all events for her were ordered by a Father's hand. Emily was their one treasure, spared to them from the grave. Is it strange that she was taught from her earliest recollection that her chief aim in life should be to love and serve her Maker and Preserver?

Mrs. Roby, own cousin to Mrs. Morgan, had married young, and gone with her husband to the West. He had been successful in business, and had now come East for a few months, his wife improving the occasion long desired, to revive her acquaintance with those so dear to her. She had only arrived the day before; and every moment that her cousin was at liberty was improved in asking questions about herself and other friends.

Aunt Lydia was Mrs. Morgan's mother who usually passed a part of every year with her, greatly to the delight of Emily.

CHAPTER III.

MILLY'S ARRIVAL.

THERE is another member of Mr. Morgan's family not yet introduced. Her real name is Amelia Lewis; but everybody seems to have forgotten it; and she now answers to the names Milly, or Mill. She is an orphan niece of Mr. Morgan, the child of his favorite sister, who went to India with her husband, and died there shortly after Amelia's birth.

For seven years, her father kept the child with him in Calcutta; and then she was sent home to his mother, where she remained until the old lady's increasing infirmities made the care a burden.

Mr. Morgan, hearing at last of Milly's destitute situation, consulted with his wife as to what was best to be done with the little girl. He proposed a boarding-school, and offered to be answerable for all expenses; but Mrs. Morgan, with great feeling, exclaimed:

"No, George, never to a boarding-school with my consent. What she needs is a home, where she can be loved and taught her duty."

"But we know nothing about her habits, and I cannot have our sweet Emily exposed to influences which may corrupt her pure mind."

"Listen a moment, George. Somebody certainly owes a duty to the poor orphan. If it is ours, we will undertake it, trusting in God to preserve our child from harm. We have endeavored to teach her to love her Saviour, and to pray to him to shield her from temptation. Now we must have faith to believe he will answer prayer."

"But, Priscilla, think how Milly has been brought up. You know what life in India is, from poor Ida's letters. And without a mother, the child has been tossed about from one native servant to another. I really can't see the way clear; and then think what a care for you!"

"Give me twenty-four hours to reflect," said the lady, cheerfully. "I will tell you then whether I will undertake it."

The next evening, a letter was written inviting Milly to make her uncle a visit; he volunteering a promise to pay her expenses for a year, either at his own house or at a suitable school. A week later, Milly arrived, in company with a neighbor of her grandmother, and quite a sensation did her debut create.

Milly was now in her tenth year, eight months younger than Emily. She had eyes that shone like stars; and a complexion dark as an Indian. Her form was slender, and her movements graceful. Her limbs were so supple that she could throw herself into any attitude and did so to the alarm of her aunt, who feared every moment that she would dislocate some bone.

It would be difficult to conceive a greater contrast than existed between the cousins. Emily was of fair complexion, with deep blue eyes and auburn hair. In her person and dress, she was the picture of neatness, while from her birth her parents had carefully guarded her from every breath of harm.

Milly, on her arrival from a day's journey in the cars, looked like a wild girl. Her face was covered with dust; her hair which floated loosely over her shoulders, looked as though unacquainted with a brush; her hands were grimy with dirt; her nails even had a deep border of black; her dress was buttoned awry; her boots were only half laced; and the strings hung dangling around her ancles, threatening every moment to trip her up.

When the child had carelessly bid the neighbor who accompanied her to the door good-by, without a word of thanks, and then, no ways abashed, stood in the centre of the room gazing curiously at her new found relatives, Mrs. Morgan cast a despairing glance from her husband to Emily.

The little girl, in the meantime, was trying hard to convince herself that this poor, neglected creature was the dear cousin, for whose arrival she had been so impatient. She blushed crimson as she noticed the slovenly hair and soiled dress; all desire to have Milly share her room and bed vanishing on the instant. She could not endure the thought of a kiss from a mouth with teeth so entirely a stranger to the brush.

But Milly did not notice the neglect. Alter one long, searching gaze into the faces of her relatives, she threw her hat into a chair, tossed back with a quick jerk of her head the locks fallen over her face; then with a loud yawn, exclaimed:

"I say, isn't it hot? I'm awfully hungry, too."

This appeal changed Emily's aversion to sympathy. She stepped forward eagerly, and seizing her cousin's hand, said:

"Come with me to your room and wash. Supper will be ready in a few minutes."

She led the way to a small chamber on the opposite side of the hall from her own, saying as she did so, "I'll help you to dress for tea."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Morgan, throwing up her hands when the children were out of hearing, "Isn't she a real Hindoo? Can she ever be civilized?"

Mr. Morgan sighed repeatedly. "Oh, Ida!" he murmured, "How your child reminds me of you! So like, yet so different; impulsive and careless, but with a warm heart!"

They were interrupted by a loud, prolonged laugh from the chamber; and in a few minutes the cousins came down stairs hand in hand, just as the bell in the hall called them to supper.

CHAPTER IV.

MILLY AT PRAYERS.

IT was evident that Emily had attempted to improve her cousin's appearance. Her face and hands were clean; and one lock of hair next her face had been brushed smoothly, and tied back with a cherry ribbon, from Emily's drawer. An apron and collar had been added from the same place.

At the door of the dining-room, Milly snatched her hand from her cousin, and dashed up to her aunt, asking, in a loud voice, "Say, doesn't I look smart? May I keep this red ribbon for my own?"

At the table, while her uncle said grace, Milly folded her hands to be sure; but her eyes wandered from one dish to another. She did not wait till the plate of biscuit was passed, but snatched one, and commenced eating it, biting a huge piece off the side as a dog would have done.

Emily blushed. "Wasn't it dreadful?" she asked mamma afterward.

"Did you have no dinner, Milly?" inquired her uncle, greatly annoyed.

"I had a paper bag full of doughnuts and cheese," answered the child, talking with her mouth full, and showing all the process of masticating her food, occasionally using her tongue to disengage the bread from her teeth. "Martha made them on purpose. You know old Martha, don't you?"

Mr. Morgan gravely bowed assent. Every moment he was becoming more convinced that Milly must be sent away to school.

When Mrs. Morgan passed the visitor a glass dish of currant jelly, she smacked her lips, and glancing in her aunt's face with a smile, she burst out:

"I say, isn't this red stuff jolly good?"

"I'm glad you like it, my dear," was the kind reply.

Mr. Morgan pushed back his plate, saying in rather a petulant tone, "My appetite has gone."

"Oh, papa!" said Emily, "You've only eaten one biscuit."

When the tea had been removed, Emily carried the Bible and hymn books to her father, taking the opportunity, as she leaned over his shoulder, to whisper to him:

"I love you dearly, papa."

He glanced in her anxious face, nodded pleasantly, and then named the hymn they would sing.

The exercises which followed appeared to interest Milly intensely. She listened to the reading with open mouth, her keen gaze being fastened on her uncle till he closed the Bible.

During the singing, her expression softened, till the tears stood in her eyes. But after the first verse, she hummed an accompaniment, entirely ignoring the words, her voice, as they all acknowledged afterward, being as sweet and clear as a nightingale in his native woods.

When they rose from their seats to kneel, Milly squatted awkwardly down in front of her chair, her chin resting on her hands. Her eyes were at first fixed on a beautiful painting of fruit which hung above her; but presently her attention was arrested by the petitions:

"Help us, Lord, to be kind to the poor orphan who has this day come to us. May she be docile and affectionate; and may we be patient and faithful. May we always bear in mind that she has not been so highly favored by Providence as we have been, and may we, both by precept and example, teach her that the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace."

When the prayer was finished, Milly stood still for a moment, while Emily, as usual, gathered the books and restored them to a shelf in the bookcase. Then, with a sudden impulse, the poor little stranger dashed to the side of her uncle, exclaiming:

"I like you. I thought at first I shouldn't; and I like to hear you talk to God as you did just now."