Hatty and Marcus | Page 9

her couch was anything but a bed of roses.
Meg had consoled herself for going to sleep in a strange room by herself, by munching hard crackers until that pleasure was lost in the new joy of the dreams of childhood. The bed was strewn with the crumbs, and through her thin night-dress Hatty could feel them in all directions. After brushing them this way and that way, Hatty jumped out of bed with an angry bound, and proceeded to light the candle and rectify the mischief in a systematic manner.
"The troublesome little thing!" exclaimed Hatty, as she saw a half-eaten cracker lying in Meg's loosened grasp. "She ought to be punished for it!"
At that moment Hatty thought of her resolution to be patient under trifling discomforts, and a feeling of mortification came over her. Very quietly she brushed away the offending crumbs, gently she removed the half-eaten cracker, and then she knelt to ask forgiveness for this new exhibition of her hasty temper, ere she again lay down to rest.
Hatty was soon in a sweet sleep; but shortly after midnight she was awakened by a feeling very much as if a broom-handle were thrust against her, while at the same time Meg exclaimed, "Do move, Hatty, you crowd so. I wish you would'nt come on my side of the bed."
Meg was a thin bony little creature, and the children all dreaded a punch with her sharp elbows almost as much as one of her scientific pinches.
Hatty's tender side actually ached, but she made an effort to say, gently, "Meg, you must be dreaming; wake up!"
"I am not asleep at all!" said Meg, pettishly. "I wish you would move!"
Hatty passed her hand along the seam of the sheet (Mrs. Lee used her old-fashioned sheets on the children's beds) to assure herself that she was on her own side of the bed, and then she was going to tell Meg that it was she who was out of place; but something checked her, and she only said, pleasantly, "Never mind, Meg, where the middle of the bed is,--you shall have all the room you want;" and making way for her little friend with the sharp elbows, Hatty composed herself again to sleep, with a far happier feeling than if she had contended for her rights.
Once she was going to say, "O Meg, it hurts me still where you punched me," but she checked the words, and thought how trifling was such a pain compared with the nails in the hands of our great example, who has bid us follow him in his patience, as well as in perfect purity.
Hatty's long ride from her grandmother's, a distance of sixteen miles, and the excitement of her return home, made her sleep very soundly, when not disturbed, and she would gladly have continued her nap until the rousing bell gave forth its summons.
Meg was something like the uneasy birds who twitter at midnight on their perches, and wake at dawn to sing, as if they never knew the need of rest.
By the first grey streak of morning she began to stir, and was soon wide awake and full of glee at finding herself in her new quarters.
Hatty turned her back resolutely, but in vain. Meg was not to be so easily disposed of. Hatty was going to say some hasty words to Meg, as she twitched away from her, when Meg pleaded, "Do wake up, sister Hatty. It is Sunday morning."
"Sunday morning!" that thought brought Hatty to herself--and making an effort to throw off her sleepiness, she turned towards Meg, and said, "Well, then, give me a nice kiss to begin the day."
Meg gave the kiss with real good will, and then, nestling up close to Hatty, she began to talk as if her tongue needed violent exercise to make up for being quiet all night.
Before many minutes were over, Hatty had set that little tongue at Sunday work, repeating all the hymns and Bible verses that Meg had learned during the three months that Hatty had been away from home.
Meg was full of eager questions about her hymns and her verses, and Hatty had an opportunity of giving the little one some sweet lessons about the loving Saviour and what He wishes in His lambs, that she would have lost if she had given way to her selfish wish for a longer nap.
We do not know, when we give way to our own whims, instead of being unselfish, what opportunities of usefulness we may be losing. If we do one duty well, some higher and more important duty generally follows close upon it.
Hatty took a pleasure in making Meg look particularly nice that Sunday morning, and she was well pleased when her mother smilingly remarked at breakfast that Meg showed very plainly that she