It would take too long to follow Maggie and Bessie through all their travels, or to visit all the places visited by them, going from one to another by easy stages, as best suited mamma; and staying a day or two, or a week or two, according to the amount of interest and pleasure they found in each. Charleston and Richmond, Virginia Springs, the famous Natural Bridge, and many another spot, were described in Maggie’s letters to her friends at home; but the place of which she most delighted to write, because there she found the most to describe, was Washington. Here is one of her letters from that city:—

They did not stay long in Washington; for the weather was growing warm and oppressive, and our party were anxious to hurry northward, where it was cooler and pleasanter. We will not stop with them at Baltimore or Philadelphia, where nothing particularly interesting occurred; or even in their own city, where they stopped for a few days to rest and have a sight of all the dear home-faces, as well as to leave all the “curiosities and wonderful memories,” as Maggie called them, which they had collected in their southern rambles: but start off with them once more on their further journeyings.

They had parted from Mr. Powers and Belle: but Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie had joined the party, adding much to the enjoyment of all; and they were now on their way to beautiful Trenton and Niagara Falls.

A young lady and two gentlemen were coming up the brass-covered staircase of the steamboat which was carrying our friends up the river.

“Hallo!” said one of the latter as some small object fell at his feet. “What is this? Who is pelting me with flowers? No: it’s not a flower either. What is it, Mary?” and he stooped and picked it up, turning it round and round very gingerly, as if afraid it would fall to pieces in his fingers. “Looks like a small edition of that thing on your head.”

“Just what it is,” replied his sister. “It is a doll’s hat. Ah! there is the little owner, I suppose,” and she looked up at Bessie who was peeping over the banisters with watchful, earnest eyes, and holding Margaret Colonel Horace in her arms.

“Are you the young lady who has been pelting me with dolls’ hats, and trying to make me think they were flowers?” asked the young man as he came to the top of the stairs.

“It is only one hat, and I didn’t try to make you think it was a flower, and I didn’t pelt you with it, and I’m only a little girl,” answered Bessie, demurely. “It fell off my dolly’s head; but I’m very glad you came up just then, before any one stepped on it.”

The gentleman put the hat on the forefinger of one hand, and twirled it slowly round with the other, while Bessie looked on, rather aggravated.

“Give it to her, George; aren’t you ashamed to tease her?” said the young lady.

“What will you give me for it?” asked he.

“I’ll give you ‘thank you,’ sir,” replied the child.

“Nothing else?”

“No, sir, nothing else,” answered Bessie, with as much dignity as any young lady could have worn.

He felt the silent reproof of the child’s manner; and, ashamed of having teased her, he handed her the little hat, saying, almost without intending it,—

“I beg your pardon.”

“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” she said, now smiling again. “I was ’fraid it would be spoiled ’fore I could call some one to pick it up.”

“Why didn’t you run down, and pick it up yourself?” asked the young lady.

“I thought maybe mamma wouldn’t want me to,” said Bessie, putting on her doll’s hat. “She told me on the Savannah steamer never to go up and down the stairs alone; and I didn’t know if she would like me to here.”

“Here’s a match for Kate’s paragon of obedience and straightforwardness,” said the young lady, laughing as she turned to the other gentleman who had not yet spoken.

“What is your name, little lady?” he asked.

Bessie looked up at him. Where had she seen that face before? Those sparkling black eyes, the roguish curve of the lips, seemed very familiar to her; and yet she was sure the gentleman was a stranger, as the others were.

But she had a fancy that these same strangers were making rather free with her; and she put on her dignified air again as she answered slowly,—

“Bessie Bradford, sir,” and turned away. But her steps were again checked as she heard her last questioner exclaim,—

“Why, it is Kate’s pet! The paragon herself!”

“Kate’s pet!” The old school-name so often given to her by the older girls at Miss Ashton’s, and now uttered by the owner of the black eyes which seemed so familiar, made it at once clear to her who it was. Perhaps it was just as well that she did not know what paragon meant: she only thought it rather an ugly-sounding name, and at another time she might have been displeased and thought it was intended to tease her; but, as it flashed upon her who he was, vexation was lost in pleased surprise.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, in the tone she sometimes used when she was both gratified and astonished, and looking up at him with flushed and sparkling face.

“Well?” said the gentleman, laughing; as did both of his companions.

“I just believe you are Katie’s brother,” cried the child.

“That is an accusation I cannot deny,” he said, much amused. “Yes; I am Charlie Maynard. But how did you know that?”

“’Cause you look a great deal like her, sir,” answered Bessie; “and she used to talk about you very often. She thinks you are very nice.”

“That shows her good taste,” he said.

“She is very, very nice herself,” said the little girl, no longer feeling as if she were talking to a stranger; “and I am very fond of her. But it is a great while since I have seen her. Will you please to give her my love when you see her, sir?”

“On one condition,” he answered; “that you come with me now and let me show you something. Something I think you will like to see,” he added, seeing that she hesitated.

“I must ask mamma first,” she said. “She only gave me leave to wait here until Uncle Ruthven and Maggie came up.”

She ran to where her mother sat, and eagerly asked if she might go with Katie Maynard’s brother to “see something.” Mamma gave permission; and, putting her hand confidingly in that of her new acquaintance, Bessie suffered him to lead her to the other side of the boat.

Like what he had brought her to see! Bessie thought so indeed, when she caught sight of the “something;” and Margaret Colonel Horace nearly fell from her mamma’s arms as the latter sprang into those of Katie Maynard herself.

Kate was as much delighted and surprised as the child, and kissed Bessie over and over again; while the loving little soul nestled close to her, and looked up with eyes which left no need for words.

Then Bessie had to be introduced to Katie’s father and mother, who were with her; but her brother said there was no occasion for him to go through with this ceremony, since he and Bessie had already made acquaintance; and he took a good deal of credit to himself for having guessed that the demure little damsel, who was so careful about obeying her mamma, might be his sister’s favorite and pet, whose name he had so often heard. The other lady and gentleman were friends of the Maynards, and travelling with them; and the whole party were, like our friends, bound for Niagara.

“And where is the honey-bee?” asked Kate, who had heard Colonel Rush call Maggie by that name, and from that time used it for her. “We’ll go and bring her too.”

But Maggie,—who had by this time come upstairs, having chosen to go down with Uncle Ruthven to buy some papers and “see what she could see” below, while Bessie preferred to wait above,—Maggie was by no means to be persuaded to join a party consisting of so many strangers. So Kate, who was really rejoiced to see her little schoolmates, and wanted to talk to both, must needs accept Bessie’s invitation, and stay with them for a while.

“For you know you’re not a bit troubled with bashfulness,” said Bessie, innocently; “and poor Maggie is;” a speech which made Kate’s friends smile, and Kate herself laugh outright.

But Bessie was mistaken; for Kate, in spite of her laugh, was for once “a bit troubled with bashfulness” before Mrs. Bradford. For she had a little feeling of consciousness in the presence of Bessie’s mother, which rose from the recollection of the affair of the clock at school, and the knowledge that Mrs. Bradford had heard of it. Mrs. Ashton had told Kate that she had thought it only right to tell Mrs. Bradford of Bessie’s trial, and her steadfast resistance to temptation; and Kate, who had not seen Mrs. Bradford since the day of the giving of the prizes, felt a little doubtful how she would be received. But the lady’s kind and friendly greeting soon put the young girl at her ease, and she felt there was no need for any feeling of embarrassment now that her own conscience was at rest. She had a pleasant talk with the little girls, hearing of their travels and adventures, and telling them in return of all that had taken place at school after they left.

The acquaintance between the young folks brought about one between their elders, which gave much pleasure all around; and, during the next two or three weeks, the two parties saw a good deal of one another.

The children took a great fancy to the younger Mr. Maynard, Kate’s brother, as he did to them; and even Maggie was quite friendly with him from the time that he came and took his place near his sister, as she sat a little apart with Bessie on her lap, and Maggie close beside her, talking of all that had happened since they parted. He was very much amused with Bessie’s quaint ways and sayings, and with Maggie’s glowing descriptions of all they had seen and done during their travels; but he did not let his amusement appear, and they talked away without restraint before him. Now and then he would join in the conversation, putting a question, or making a remark, as though he were interested in what they were saying, but not so as to embarrass them at all; and he was so kind and pleasant in his manner to them, that they both speedily honored him with their “approval,” and a place in the ranks of their friends.

Not so with Mr. Temple, Charlie Maynard’s companion. When, after a time, he sauntered up and joined the group, he soon put a check upon the merry chatter of the little girls. Not intentionally, for he had more to say to them, and asked more questions than Mr. Maynard himself: but it was done with a tone and manner which they did not like; in a half-mocking way, which irritated Bessie, and brought on a fit of shyness with Maggie. Indeed, the latter would not stand it long, but moved away to her mamma.

“What is it, dear?” asked her mother, seeing that something had disturbed her.

“That hateful man, mamma,” said Maggie, lowering her voice that she might not be heard by the object of her displeasure.

“Do not call names, dear,” said her mother. “What has he done to you?”

“He talks disagreeable nonsense, mamma.”

“I thought you liked nonsense once in a while,” said Mr. Stanton.

“Oh! it’s not nice, amusing nonsense like yours, Uncle Ruthven. He talks compliments, and compliments he don’t mean either. He is horrid, and very silly, too.”

“Perhaps he thinks you like it,” said Mr. Stanton.

“He has no business to think so,” said Maggie, waxing more indignant. “We were having a very nice time with Miss Kate, and he made himself a great interruption. He teased us about our dolls; and then he asked us a great many ridiculous questions, and talked a great many foolish things about Bessie’s eyes and my hair. If it was grown ladies he talked to that way they would say he was impertinent, and I don’t see what children have to stand it for. It is horrid nonsense.”

Mamma thought it horrid nonsense too. She did not like to have such things said to her little girls, and was glad that they were too wise to be pleased with such foolish flattery, which might otherwise have made them vain.

Meanwhile, Mr. Temple was continuing his “horrid nonsense” to Bessie, in spite of more than one reproof from Kate and her brother; but the little “princess” received it in the most disdainful silence, which greatly amused not only the two last, but also the offender himself. But at last it became more than Bessie could bear, and she too slipped from Kate’s hold and went back to her mother. From this time, the children avoided Mr. Temple as much as possible; and, if they could help it, would not join the Maynards when he was with them.

“What is the reason you don’t like George Temple?” asked Kate of Bessie one day.

“I don’t know,” said Bessie, coloring: for she did not know she had made her dislike so plain; and she really found it difficult to put in words the cause of her annoyance. “I don’t know, Miss Kate; but I don’t like him. I believe I don’t approve of young men,” she added doubtfully, as if she were not quite sure of the latter fact.

“But you like Charlie, don’t you?” said Kate, smiling, “and he is a young man, younger than Mr. Temple.”

“Yes,” answered Bessie, with an air of deep reflection, “but—then—I b’lieve the reason is, that Mr. Temple is not so very gentleman as Mr. Maynard. Your brother plays with us, and makes fun for us, but he is just as polite as if we were big ladies; but I think Mr. Temple is one of those people who seem to think children don’t have feelings. You know there is such a kind of people, Miss Kate.”

“She knows the ring of the pure metal,” said Kate afterwards to her mother, “and distinguishes the true gentleman in heart and feeling, as well, or better than her elders. She did not mean her words for me, I am sure; but I could not but remember that it is not so long since I was myself one of that “kind of people who seem to think children don’t have feelings”;” and Kate laughed at the recollection of Bessie’s solemn air, when she had pronounced her opinion of Mr. Temple. “Poor Maggie! how I used to tease her.”

“Yes, indeed, Kate,” said Mrs. Maynard, “grown people, I fear, too often forget how easily a child’s feelings are wounded; how the word, the look, or laugh, which to us is a matter of indifference, or some passing moment’s amusement, may mortify and grieve some sensitive little heart, and leave there a sore spot long after we have forgotten it.”

“Yes,” said Kate, regretfully, “my conscience is not at ease on that point. And you may thank darling Bessie, mother, for giving me more than one innocent lesson in consideration and thoughtfulness for others, both old and young. The honey-bee, too, with all her heedlessness,—and she is naturally a careless little thing,—leaves no sting behind her, for she never forgets the rule which she calls, ‘doing unto others.’”