Ester Ried | Page 3

seemed to quiver with weariness.
It was a pleasant little room, this one which she entered, with its low
windows looking out toward the river, and its cosy furniture all neatly
arranged by Sadie's tasteful fingers.
Ester seated herself by the open window, and looked down on the
group who lingered on the piazza below--looked down on them with
her eyes and with her heart; yet envied while she looked, envied their
free and easy life, without a care to harass them, so she thought; envied
Sadie her daily attendance at the academy, a matter which she so early
in life had been obliged to have done with; envied Mrs. Holland the
very ribbons and laces which fluttered in the evening air. It had grown
cooler now, a strong breeze blew up from the river and freshened the
air; and, as they sat below there enjoying it, the sound of their gay
voices came up to her.
"What do they know about heat, or care, or trouble?" she said
scornfully, thinking over all the weight of her eighteen years of life;
she hated it, this life of hers, just hated it--the sweeping, dusting,
making beds, trimming lamps, working from morning till night; no time
for reading, or study, or pleasure. Sadie had said she was cross, and
Sadie had told the truth; she was cross most of the time, fretted with her
every-day petty cares and fatigues.
"O!" she said, over and over, "if something would only happen; if I
could have one day, just one day, different from the others; but no, it's
the same old thing--sweep and dust, and clear up, and eat and sleep. I
hate it all."
Yet, had Ester nothing for which to be thankful that the group on the

piazza had not?
If she had but thought, she had a robe, and a crown, and a harp, and a
place waiting for her, up before the throne of God; and all they had not.
Ester did not think of this; so much asleep was she, that she did not
even know that none of those gay hearts down there below her had
been given up to Christ. Not one of them; for the academy teachers and
Dr. Van Anden were not among them. O, Ester was asleep! She went to
church on the Sabbath, and to preparatory lecture on a week day; she
read a few verses in her Bible, frequently, not every day; she knelt at
her bedside every night, and said a few words of prayer--and this was
all!
She lay at night side by side with a young sister, who had no claim to a
home in heaven, and never spoke to her of Jesus. She worked daily side
by side with a mother who, through many trials and discouragements,
was living a Christian life, and never talked with her of their future rest.
She met daily, sometimes almost hourly, a large household, and never
so much as thought of asking them if they, too, were going, some day,
home to God. She helped her young brother and sister with their
geography lessons, and never mentioned to them the heavenly country
whither they themselves might journey. She took the darling of the
family often in her arms, and told her stories of "Bo Peep," and the
"Babes in the Wood," and "Robin Redbreast," and never one of Jesus
and his call for the tender lambs!
This was Ester, and this was Ester's home.
CHAPTER II.
WHAT SADIE THOUGHT.
Sadie Ried was the merriest, most thoughtless young creature of
sixteen years that ever brightened and bothered a home. Merry from
morning until night, with scarcely ever a pause in her constant flow of
fun; thoughtless, nearly always selfish too, as the constantly
thoughtless always are. Not sullenly and crossly selfish by any means,

only so used to think of self, so taught to consider herself utterly
useless as regarded home, and home cares and duties, that she opened
her bright brown eyes in wonder whenever she was called upon for
help.
It was a very bright and very busy Saturday morning.
"Sadie!" Mrs. Ried called, "can't you come and wash up these baking
dishes? Maggie is mopping, and Ester has her hands full with the cake."
"Yes, ma'am," said Sadie, appearing promptly from the dining-room,
with Minnie perched triumphantly on her shoulder. "Here I am, at your
service. Where are they?"
Ester glanced up. "I'd go and put on my white dress first, if I were you,"
she said significantly.
And Sadie looked down on her pink gingham, ruffled apron, shining
cuffs, and laughed.
"O, I'll take off my cuffs, and put on this distressingly big apron of
yours, which hangs behind the door; then I'll do."
"That's my clean apron; I don't wash