Emilie the Peacemaker | Page 9

you what to do to-night. Leave me alone, and, oh, try and
make the children quiet, for my head aches as bad as my heart. Sally.'"
"Then Sarah tried that day and the next, but found it hard work; the
boys quarrelled and fought, and the little once scratched and cried, and
their mother came and beat one or two of the worst, but all did no good.
There was no peace till bed time; still I encouraged her and told her,
you know, about 'a soft answer turning away wrath,' and since that time,
she has less often given railing for railing; and has not huffed and
worried them, as elder sisters are apt to do. She is a good girl, is Sarah,
but here comes the Missis home from market." "The Missis" certainly
did not look very sweet, and her heavy load had heated her. She did not
welcome Edith pleasantly, which, the old man observing, led her away
to a little room he occupied at the back of the cottage, and showed her
the corallines.
Edith saw plainly that though the poor father offered her any of them
she liked to take, he suffered in parting with them, so calling Dick and
Mary, she asked if they would hunt for some for her, like those in
grandfather's stores. They consented joyfully, and Edith promising
often to come and see the old man, ran down the cliff briskly, and
hastened home. She thought a good deal as she walked, and asked
herself if she should have had the patience and the gentleness of that

poor cottage girl; if she should have soothed Susy, and comforted Dick
and Mary; if she should have troubled herself to kneel down in the
broiling sun and build up a few trumpery shells into a grotto, to be
upset and destroyed presently. She came to the conclusion that for good,
pleasant, prettily behaved children, she might have done so, but for
shrieking, passionate, quarrelsome little things as they appeared to her
then, she certainly should not. She felt humbled at the contrast between
herself and Sarah; and when she arrived at home, for the first time,
perhaps, in her life, she patiently bore her mamma's reproaches for
being so late, and for the impropriety of walking away from her sisters,
no one knew where. She was not yet quite skilled enough in the art of
peace, to give the "soft answer;" but her silence and quietness turned
away Mrs. Parker's wrath, and after dinner, Edith prepared herself for
the visit of her dear Emilie.
CHAPTER FOURTH.
THE HOLIDAYS.
Mrs. Parker and her two elder daughters were going to pay a visit to
town this summer, and as Edith was not thought old enough to
accompany them, Mrs. Parker resolved to ask Emilie to take charge of
her. The only difficulty was how to dispose of aunt Agnes; aunt Agnes
wishing them to believe that she did not mind being alone, but all the
while minding it very much. At last it occurred to Emilie that perhaps
Mrs. Crosse, at the farm in Edenthorpe, a few miles off, would, if she
knew of the difficulty, ask aunt Agnes there for a few weeks. Mrs.
Crosse and aunt Agnes got on so wonderfully well together, and as she
had often been invited, the only thing now was to get her in the mind to
go. This was effected in due time, and Mr. Crosse came up to the
lodgings for her and her little box, in his horse and gig, on the very
evening that Emilie was to go the Parkers', to be installed as
housekeeper and governess in the lady's absence. Edith had come to see
the dear old aunt off; and now re-entered the lodgings to help Emilie to
collect her things, and to settle with Miss Webster for the lodgings,
before her departure. Miss Webster had met with a tenant for six weeks,
and was in very good spirits, and very willing to take care of the

Schombergs' goods, which, to tell the truth, were not likely to oppress
her either in number or value, with the exception of one cherished
article, one relic of former days--a good semi-grand piano, which M.
Schomberg had purchased for his daughter, about a year before his
death. Miss Webster looked very much confused as Emilie bade her
good-bye, and said--"Miss Schomberg, you have not, I see, left your
piano unlocked."
"No," said Emilie, "certainly I have not; I did not suppose----"
"Why," replied Miss Webster, "the lodgers, seeing a piano, will be sure
to ask for the key, Miss, and to be sure you wo'nt object."
Emilie hesitated. Did she remember the time when Miss Webster,
indignant at Emilie for being a fortnight behind-hand in her weekly