Be Courteous | Page 5

Palmer is there." Dora arose, and
pinned a thin shawl upon the neck of the delicate girl, and while she did
so, looked affectionately into her white face.
"Of what are you thinking, Dora?" asked Emma.
"I was thinking," said she, "that my lily could shed her fragrance
beyond her own garden to-day."
"O, I am no lily," said Emma, half laughing, "only a poor blighted thing
going out to steal fragrance from other flowers."
"Well, darling," said Dora, "you can have it without theft, for we can
make for ourselves a garden of spices anywhere, and then you know
who will come in and eat our pleasant fruit."
Emma smiled, and nodded a good-by, as she left the room.
"What a singular girl is Emma," said one of the young ladies who
looked from the keeping-room window, as she entered the wagon. "I
was glad that they had the courtesy to offer her a cushioned seat; but
she has refused it, and is riding off upon a box. Dear Mrs. Lindsay,
Emma is excessively polite."
"Mysteriously polite, I call it," said Mrs. Lindsay. "She seems more and
more to lose sight of herself, in a desire to make others happy; yet
before we left the city she often offended me by her disregard of
fashionable etiquette."
"Yet Emma never was offensive in her manners, mamma," said Martha.
"She was truly beloved, I know it, dear," replied the lady; "but her great
truthfulness kept me in constant jeopardy. Just think of her telling

Madam Richards that people considered her too old to dance."
"Well, it was a shame," answered the first speaker, "for a lady of such
excellent qualities to make herself ridiculous by a single foible."
"So Emma thought," said Mrs. Lindsay, "and had the frankness to tell
her so. It turned out well enough in her case, it is true; for she told me
when I went to apologize, that Emma had shown so much heartfelt
interest and concern in the matter of her being a public laughing-stock,
that she was obliged not only to forgive, but to love her the better for
what I called a rudeness. But," continued Mrs. Lindsay, "singular as she
is, I would give worlds to have her----"
Here the lady paused, and Martha said quickly, "She is better, mother.
She sleeps very well now, and her night-sweats are not so profuse."
The mother made no answer. It was not because Martha's hopeful
words were unheeded, but because mournful memories were at work in
her heart; and to avoid further conversation she arose and left the room.
"Mamma will look upon the dark side," said Martha, "but I am much
encouraged. Our physician says, that rambling about in the country,
running in the fields and woods, climbing fences and trees, if she is
disposed, will do wonders for Emma: and I believe it; for how
wonderfully she has improved during these three months--so full of life,
and so full of interest in everybody."
Emma had refused the cushioned seat, because she saw at a glance that
the young boy occupying that seat was more feeble than herself. The
name of this little boy was Edwin. Emma had met him frequently in the
woods, and down by the brook where he went to fish. They had thus
become pretty well acquainted, and from him Emma had learned the
name of the pretty girl who sat in the pew in front of their own at
church--the little girl who wore a black ribbon upon her bonnet, and
whose manner in the house of prayer was both quiet and devout. Edwin
had told her that the name of this pretty girl was Mary Palmer; that just
before their family came to Appledale she had lost a little sister; and
that since then, though very quiet and kind before, Mary had been very
patient, even with Fanny Brighton. Emma, therefore, was not wholly
unprepared for the off-hand greeting bestowed upon her that morning
by Fanny. On first getting into the wagon, she pressed Mary's hand
without waiting for the ceremony of an introduction, for she knew her
name. Mary loved to have Emma so near her; for though they had

never spoken together before, a mutual affection existed between them;
but the modest girl felt that Henry ought to have given Emma a seat
beside some one who knew more than herself.
"Fanny Brighton," thought Mary, "is so amusing when she chooses to
be; Alice More is so witty; and the Misses Sliver so learned, Henry
ought to have seen that Emma was where she would be pleasantly
entertained; but I will make amends for this when we get to the plain--I
will introduce her, and leave her with them."
Emma, however, seemed well satisfied with her company. "I