Susan - Amy Walton (bearly read books .txt) 📗

time Susan would have said something in her defence, for she knew this blame to be entirely unjust. But just now she was so vexed with her that she kept silence, and allowed Margaretta to go on without interruption.

"Very well," said the latter, "then you stay at home by yourself. Aunt and Nanna are going to see Mrs Bevis, and Susan and I shall have a walk together. Very likely we should call in at Buzzard's as we come back and have some tarts."

Susan glanced at her companion's face to see how she took this last remark. Buzzard's open tarts were things that Sophia Jane specially liked. Was she vexed? No. One corner of her mouth was tucked in, in a way which looked far more like secret satisfaction. It was very annoying, but after all she could not prefer to be left alone in the dull house that bright day, so most likely she was concealing her disappointment.

Susan herself did not enjoy that walk so much as usual, though the band was playing gay tunes, and the sun shone, and the sea twinkled merrily. For one thing she felt that she had been unjust to Sophia Jane, and allowed her to be punished for no fault; for, after all, it _was_ her money, and she had a right to do as she liked with it. Only why should she be so perverse and stupid as to have a will of her own, and not to carry out Susan's wishes? What could she possibly be going to do with that half-crown? What could it be that she wanted so much that she was ready to give up all the nice games and plans they had thought of together? As she walked soberly along by Margaretta's side Susan came to the conclusion that it would be best to make no more inquiries about it; she had noticed that Sophia Jane would seldom yield to persuasion and never to force, but sometimes if you left her quite alone she would do what you wished of her own accord. This once settled in her mind she felt more cheerful, but the walk was dull with no one but Margaretta to talk to, the open tarts at Buzzard's had lost their flavour, and she was not at all sorry to get home.

To do Sophia Jane justice she was quite ready to meet Susan's advances in a friendly spirit, and did not seem disposed to bear malice. The little girls played together as usual, and Susan, true to her resolution, made not the smallest reference to the half-crown, but this silence made her think of it all the more. It was, indeed, seldom out of her mind, and every day her curiosity grew more intense; morning, noon, and night she wondered about that half-crown, and at last her head was so full of it that she mixed it up with everything she did in lessons or play-time. And at last, one day when she and Sophia Jane were reading aloud to Aunt Hannah, a new idea, and she thought a very good one, was suggested to her.

In the lesson there happened to be an account of a miser, who lived in a wretched hovel, went without sufficient clothing, and almost starved himself for the sake of hoarding money; everyone thought him poor, but after his death it was found that he had lots of gold and silver coins hidden away in the mattress of his bed.

"What makes people misers?" asked Susan, when she came to the end of this history.

"Love of money, my dear," answered Aunt Hannah.

"Is every one who saves up money a miser?" continued Susan.

"No. Because they may be saving it for a wise and good purpose; but if they hide it up as this man did, and only keep it for the pleasure of looking at it, then they certainly would be called misers."

"Are there any now?" asked Susan, fixing her eyes on Sophia Jane.

"Oh, yes, I daresay there are, plenty," answered Aunt Hannah, who was getting tired of the subject. "Now, get your geography books."

But during the rest of the lesson Susan's mind was very far away, and she made all kinds of stupid mistakes, for what she was thinking of had nothing to do with the map of England. It was something much more interesting and important; for quite suddenly, while reading about the misers, an idea relating to Sophia Jane and the half-crown had darted into her head. She had hidden it away somewhere, and did not mean to spend it at all. The manner in which she had chinked those coins in her pocket and counted them over, and her secret and crafty behaviour since, all pointed to this. The next question was, "_Where_ had she hidden it?" What mysterious hole had she found unknown to anyone? Susan ran over all the possible places in her mind, and was earnestly occupied in this when Aunt Hannah suddenly asked her a question:

"Where is the town of Croydon?"

"In the attic," answered Susan hurriedly, and then flushed up and gave a guilty look at Sophia Jane, who merely stared in amazement.

"My dear Susan," said Aunt Hannah, "you are strangely inattentive this morning. I can't let you play in the attic if you think of your games during lesson-time."

As the days passed, Susan, watching her companion narrowly, felt more and more certain that her suspicions were correct. True, she never saw her retire to the attic alone to count over and rejoice in her secret hoard, which real misers were always known to do; but there was this to be remarked: _she bought nothing of Billy Stokes_. When Susan saw her look wistfully at the cocoa-nut rock, and twisted sticks of sugar-candy, and remembered all those pennies, she asked:

"Which are you going to buy?"

"None of 'em," said Sophia Jane, turning away. And now Susan doubted no longer. Sophia Jane was a miser!

Sunday came soon after this. It was a day the children never liked much, because, for several reasons, it was dull. Aunt Hannah did not allow them either to play at their usual games or to read their usual books. Grace was put away, the attic was forbidden, and they had to be very quiet; the only books considered "fit for Sunday," were _Line upon Line_, _The Peep of Day_, _The Dairyman's Daughter_ and _The Pilgrim's Progress_. Bits of this last were always interesting, and the more so because it was a large old copy with big print and plenty of pictures throughout. That of Saul raising Samuel had a never-ceasing attraction for Susan, and Sophia Jane was fond of the part about Giant Despair and his grievous crab-tree cudgel. In the morning they all went with Aunt Hannah to chapel, which was only five minutes' walk from the house; the prayers were long, and they could seldom understand the sermon, though they had to listen to it because Aunt Hannah asked them questions about it afterwards.

Mr Bevis, the minister, who was a great friend of hers, often came to Belmont Cottage, and stayed to have tea. On these occasions it was difficult to Susan to think that he really was the same man who wore a long black gown on Sundays, and white bands under his chin, and often hit the red cushion so hard that she had seen dust rise from it. His voice was quite different, all mystery had left him, and he became just a common grey-haired gentleman, eating muffins and asking for more sugar in his tea. She was afraid sometimes that he would ask her some questions about his sermons, or perhaps where some text came from out of the Bible, but he never did so, and indeed took very little notice of the children. On this Sunday they were surprised to find, when the time came up for the sermon, that it was not Mr Bevis that was going to preach. A much younger man mounted the steep stairs into the pulpit, and gave out a text about the widow's mite, and Susan began to listen attentively to the sermon which followed, for, strangely enough, it was all about "giving." How exactly suited to Sophia Jane!

"To give," said the minister at the close of the sermon, "though it leaves a man poor, yet makes him rich; but to keep and hoard up treasure, though he be called wealthy, yet makes him exceeding poor. But the thing given need not be money; it may only be a kind effort, a forgiving word, a little trouble for some one, but if love go with it, then it becomes great and worthy at once, for it is part of the giver's very self. It is not what a man gives, but how he gives it, that matters. Gold and silver coming from a full purse and a cold heart, is a barren gift compared to the widow's mite, which was `all she had.'

"`Not what we give, but what we share, For the gift without the giver is bare.'"

On the way home Aunt Hannah talked about the sermon a good deal with Nanna and Margaretta, for it was rather an event to hear a stranger at the chapel. She said that the preacher was "original," but that she did not consider it a "Gospel" sermon, and preferred Mr Bevis; she doubted also whether the lines quoted at the end were from a sacred writer. Now these lines were just what Susan remembered best; they came into her head again and again that afternoon while she was learning a hymn by heart, and it was difficult not to mix the two up together. She was also occupied with wondering whether Sophia Jane had attended to the sermon, and would alter her mind about the half-crown. That was as mysterious as ever, and Sophia Jane's pointed little face told nothing, though Susan fancied that there was a softer look upon it now and then, and an expression as of secret satisfaction.


CHAPTER FIVE.

"O what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!"

Susan's mind was very full of all this, and she was still watching her companion with suspicion, when something happened which gave her thoughts a new direction; for shortly after the strange minister had preached at the chapel, Sophia Jane became very ill. She had been ailing for some time, and had refused to join Susan in their usual games; complaining of headache, but no one had taken much notice of this; she was so often perverse and tiresome that it was natural to think her only sulky when she sat about in corners with her head propped on her hand and her eyes closed. But at last Aunt Hannah called in the doctor, and after his visit she looked very grave, and talked in a low voice to Buskin. Susan could not hear all she said, but she gathered enough to know that the doctor thought Sophia Jane very ill, and that he could not yet say what sort of illness it would be. She longed to ask some questions about it, but she knew from the worried look on Aunt Hannah's face that it would be better to wait, so she took Grace and stole upstairs to Sophia Jane's door. She had