The Stokesley Secret | Page 9

sometimes gravely thinking whether she had said or done the wisest
things for them, or what their mother would have most approved. She
was just going to move away from the window, when she saw a little
figure curled up on the floor, with her head on the window-seat.
"Bessie, my dear, what are you doing here? Why are not you gone
out?"
"I don't want to go out."
"I thought they were to have a great game at whoop-hide."
"I don't like whoop-hide. Johnnie pulls the clothes off my back."
"My dear, I hope you are not staying in because they called you those
foolish names. It was all in good humour."
"It was not kind," said Elizabeth, her throat swelling. "It was not true."
"Perhaps not; but you did not speak to give your reasons; and who
could tell how good they might be?"
"I've a right to my secrets as well as they have," said the little maiden.
Miss Fosbrook looked kindly at her, and she turned wistful eyes on the
young governess.

"Miss Fosbrook, will you keep a secret?"
"That I will."
"I want my money to buy some card-board--and some ribbon--and
some real true paints. I've got some vermilion, but I want some real
good blue. And then I want to make some beautiful bands with
ties--like what Papa has for his letters--for all Mamma's letters in her
desk. There's a bundle of Papa's when he was gone out to the Crimean
War, and that's to have a frigate on it, because of the Calliope--his ship,
you know; and there's one bundle of dear Aunt Sarah's--that's to have a
rose, because I always think her memory is like the rose in my hymn,
you know; and Grandmamma, she's to have--I think perhaps I could
copy a bit of the tower of Westminster Abbey out of the print, because
one sees it out of her window; and, oh! I thought of so many more, but
you see I can't do it without a real good paint-box, and that costs three
and sixpence. Now, Miss Fosbrook, is it stingy to wish to do that?"
"Not at all, my dear; but you could not expect the others to understand
what they never were told."
"I'd have said something if they had not called me stingy," said Bessie.
"It certainly was rude and hasty; but if we bear such things good-
naturedly, they become better; and they were very eager about their
own plan."
"Such a disagreeable thing as a pig!" continued Bessie. "If it had been
anything nice, I should not have minded so much."
"Yes; but, my dear, you must remember that the pig will be a more
useful present than even your pretty contrivances. You cannot call them
doing good, as the other will be."
"Then you are like them! You think I ought to spend all my money on a
great horrid pig, when Mamma--" and the tears were in the little girl's
eyes.
"No, indeed, my dear. I don't think anyone is called on to give their all,
and it is very nice and quite right for a little girl to try to make a pretty
present to please her mamma. There is plenty of time before you, and I
think you will manage to have some share in the very kind action your
brothers and sisters are contriving."
Elizabeth had not forgiven, as she should have done, the being called
stingy; it rankled on her feelings far more than those who said the word
understood; and she presently went on, "If they knew ever so much,

they would only laugh at me, and call it all Bessie's nonsense. Miss
Fosbrook, please, what is affectation?"
"I believe it is pretending to seem what we are not by nature," said Miss
Fosbrook; "putting on manners or feelings that do not come to us of
themselves."
"Then I shall tell them they make me affected," exclaimed she. "If I
like to be quiet and do things prettily, they teaze me for being affected,
and I'm forced to be as plain and blunt as their are, and I don't like it! I
wish I was grown up. I wish I was Ida Greville!"
"And why, my dear?"
"Because then things might be pretty," said Elizabeth. "Everything is so
plain and ugly, and one gets so tired of it! Is it silly to like things to be
pretty?"
"No, far from it; that is, if we do not sacrifice better things to
prettiness."
Elizabeth looked up with a light in her dark eyes, and said, "Miss
Fosbrook, I like you!"
Miss Fosbrook was very much pleased, and kissed her.
She paused a moment, and then said, "Miss Fosbrook, may I ask one
question? What is your name? Mamma said it