The Home Mission | Page 7

Arnold, in the
presence of his own family and a few particular friends, Agnes arriving
at the hour appointed.
After the ceremony, the children were brought forward, and presented
to their new mother. The youngest, as if strongly drawn by invisible
chords of affection, sprung into her lap, and clasped his little arms
lovingly about her neck. He seemed very happy. The others were cold
and distant, while Mary fixed her eyes upon the wife of her father, with
a look so full of dislike and rebellion, that no one present was in any
doubt as to how she regarded the new order of things.
Mr. Arnold was a good deal fretted by this unexpected conduct on the
part of Mary; and, forgetful of the occasion and its claims, spoke to her
with some sternness. He was recalled to self-possession by the smile of
his wife, and her gently-uttered remark, that reached only his own ear:
"Don't seem to notice it. Let it be my task to overcome prejudices."
During the evening Mary did not soften in the least toward her
step-mother. On the next morning, when all met, for the first time, at
the breakfast table, the children gazed askance at the calm, dignified
woman who presided at the table, and seemed ill at ease. On Mary's lip,
and in her eye, was an expression so like contempt, that it was with
difficulty her father could refrain from ordering her to her own room.
The meal passed in some embarrassment. At its conclusion, Mr. Arnold
went into the parlour, and his wife, entering at once upon her duties,
accompanied the children to the nursery, to see for herself that the two
oldest were properly dressed for school. Mary, who had preceded the
rest, was already in contention with the housekeeper. Just as Mrs.
Arnold--so we must now call her--entered the room, Mary exclaimed,
sharply:
"I don't care what you say, I'm going to wear this bonnet!"

"What's the trouble?" inquired Mrs. Arnold, calmly.
"Why, you see, ma'am," replied the housekeeper, "Mary is bent on
wearing her new, pink bonnet to school, and I tell her she mustn't do it.
Her old one is good enough."
"Let me see the old one," said Mrs. Arnold. She spoke in a very
pleasant tone of voice.
A neat, straw bonnet, with plain, unsoiled trimming, was brought forth
by the housekeeper, who remarked:
"It's good enough to wear Sundays, for that matter."
"I don't care if it is, I'm not going to wear it today. So don't bother
yourself any more about it."
"Oh, yes, Mary, you will," said Mrs. Arnold, very kindly, yet firmly.
"No, I won't!" was the quick, resolute answer. And she gazed,
unflinchingly, into the face of her step-mother.
"I'll call your father, my young lady! This is beyond all endurance!"
said the housekeeper, starting for the door.
"Hannah!" The mild, even voice of Mrs. Arnold checked the excited
housekeeper. "Don't speak of it to her father,--I'm sure she doesn't
mean what she says. She'll think better of it in a moment."
Mary was hardly prepared for this. Even while she stood with
unchanged exterior, she felt grateful to her step-mother for intercepting
the complaint about to be made to her father. She expected some
remark or remonstrance from Mrs. Arnold. But in this she was
mistaken. The latter, as if nothing unpleasant had occurred, turned to
Florence, and after a light examination of her dress, said to the
housekeeper:
"This collar is too much soiled; won't you bring me another?"

"Oh, it's clean enough," replied Florence, knitting her brows, and
affecting impatience. But, even as she spoke, the quick, yet gentle
hands of her step-mother had removed the collar from her neck.
"Do you think it clean enough now?" said she, as she placed the soiled
collar beside a fresh one, which the housekeeper had brought.
"It is rather dirty," replied Florence, smiling.
And now Mrs. Arnold examined other articles of her dress, and had
them changed, re-arranged her hair, and saw that her teeth were
properly brushed. While this was progressing, Mary stood a little apart,
a close observer of all that passed. One thing she did not fail to remark,
and that was the gentle firmness of her step-mother, which was in
strong contrast with the usual scolding, jerking, and impatience of the
housekeeper, as manifested on these occasions.
By the time Florence was ready for school, Mary's state of mind had
undergone considerable change, and she half regretted the exhibition of
ill temper and insulting disobedience she had shown. Yet was she in no
way prepared to yield. To her surprise, after Florence was all ready, her
step-mother turned to her and said, in a mild, cheerful voice, as if
nothing unpleasant had occurred,
"Have you a