THE FAIR.

THE next day was Saturday, when there was no school, so that Mrs. Howard was able to see Miss Ashton and tell her the sad story, quite early in the morning.

Miss Ashton was much grieved and surprised; for, as she told Mrs. Howard, although she had known that Gracie's high thoughts of herself and belief that she was wiser and better than any of her companions often led her into exaggeration, yet she could not have believed her capable of any thing that was really mean and dishonorable.

She was distressed, too, at the thought of the exposure and mortification which must follow; for it seemed necessary, for Nellie's sake, that not only Grandmamma Howard, but the whole school should know the truth. She and Mrs. Howard talked it all over for some time, but neither of the two ladies saw any way to avoid this disgrace for Gracie. They would willingly have spared her the punishment, if possible, for she had already suffered severely, and she seemed so truly humble and repentant that her mother did not believe there was much fear she would again fall into this sin.

Mrs. Howard had thought last night that perhaps she ought to deprive Gracie of any share in the fair; but that must make her disgrace very well known, and now she hoped that there was no need of further punishment to make her see and feel her great fault.

And now Grandmamma Howard must be seen and told the sad story. Mrs. Howard knew that she would be much distressed that her kind plan should turn out so badly. Neither Gracie's mamma nor Miss Ashton had quite approved of that plan; especially on Gracie's account, but they could not well say so and cross the good old lady.

It was as they had feared. Grandmamma was very much grieved and disturbed to know that what she had intended to be a help and a kindness, had only proved a source of trouble, and an encouragement to Gracie's besetting sin.

There yet remained to Mrs. Howard the still more painful task of telling Nellie how she had been wronged. She would have thought it right to make Gracie do this herself, had it not been that the child was really ill that morning, and in no state for further excitement; and it was not just to Nellie to put off the confession any longer.

Nellie was filled with amazement. Much as she had wondered over the unfortunate spot upon the mat she supposed to be hers, she had never dreamed of a thing like this, nor had she the least suspicion of the truth. Indeed, how should she?

She was a quiet child, with a more wise and thoughtful little head than those who did not know her well would have given her credit for; but words did not come to her very readily, and, after the first surprise was over, she only said to Mrs. Howard, with the tears in her eyes,—

"Please tell Gracie I am not angry with her, and hope she will be friends with me once more. Let's try not to think about it any more than we can help; will you, Mrs. Howard?"

Generous, forgiving Nellie! How ashamed Gracie felt when her mother told her this, and she contrasted Nellie's conduct with her own.

She lay upon her little bed that afternoon, feeling wretched both in mind and body, though it was a relief to remember that she had confessed all to mamma, and that she had set her face toward the right way once more, when Mrs. Howard came in bringing Nellie with her.

Poor Gracie gave a low sob, and covered her face with her hands in utter shame and distress, feeling as if she could not bear to have Nellie look at her.

But in a moment Nellie was beside her, saying,—

"Don't, Gracie; please don't. You needn't feel so very badly about it now. I don't care much, and we'll make it all up."

"Oh, Nellie, Nellie! I don't deserve you to be so kind to me," sobbed Gracie. "I was so hateful to you and so jealous, and it seemed as if I could not bear to have you go before me in any thing. I know I've been just too hateful to you."

"Well, never mind now," said Nellie.

Mrs. Howard had gone out and left the two children together.

"I can't help minding," said Gracie; "and, only think, Nellie, all the other girls in the school will have to know, and it will shame me almost to death. I hope, I hope mamma will never make me go back to school, and I mean to stay away from the fair, any way."

"That is what I came to see you about," said Nellie. "The girls need not know, Gracie. You see my—your—the mat with the ink-spot on it is nearly finished now, so I have done about as much work on one as on the other. And I don't care so very much about having mine called the best, for the money will do Jessie and her grandfather just as much good, no matter who earns it. So if each of us finishes the one she has now, it will be all the same, and the rest of the children need never know it. I am sure, Gracie, I should feel just as you do, and never want to come back to school again or see any of our class if I had done this, and I know just how badly you must feel. So I thought about it, and it seemed to me it would come right again if we just went on with the work as if this had not been found out; I mean if you had not told. I'd rather no one would know it but just those who know now. Don't you think we could arrange it so, Gracie? Your mother gave me leave to tell you this, and says she would be very glad for you if it can be done, and she thinks Miss Ashton will be willing."

To hear the earnest, wistful voice one might have supposed that generous, great-hearted Nellie was pleading for some great boon for herself.

But she could not tell all that Gracie felt. No, indeed; she did not know what coals of fire she was heaping on her head; how perfectly humbled and remorseful she felt as she remembered all the hard thoughts she had cherished toward her; the unkind words and unjust actions of which she had been guilty; all forgotten now, it seemed, by Nellie, who was only anxious to make the path of repentance as easy as possible to her, and to avoid all unnecessary shame and exposure to the one who had so greatly injured her.

With many sobs and broken words she told Nellie all that was in her heart, beseeching her forgiveness, and thanking her over and over for her consideration and sweet thoughtfulness; not that she put it in just such words, but in those that were very simple and very touching to Nellie.

So peace was made between them,—a peace that was sure to be lasting and true where there was such sincere repentance on one side, such good will and hearty forgiveness on the other.

Grandmamma Howard was only too glad on Gracie's account to accept Nellie's generous proposal.

Miss Ashton also agreed that the matter should go no further, and so it was arranged, and further disgrace to Gracie avoided, although the weight of shame and remorse was not readily lifted from her heart, and she felt as if her schoolmates must know her secret and that she dared scarcely look them in the face.

They all wondered at the new humility and modesty which she now began to show; but the change was an agreeable one, and drew forth no unkind remarks.

A prettier sight than Miss Ashton's garden and piazza on that lovely June afternoon when the long-talked-of fair took place, would have been hard to find. Kind friends had decked the spot tastefully; flowers were everywhere in abundance; the tables conveniently and becomingly arranged; and the display of articles upon them was not only tempting, but such as had been manufactured by the children did them wonderful credit. Flags, ribbons, wreaths, and festoons, all joined to make the scene gay; and in and out, among and below them flitted the white-robed "little sunbeams," who lent the fairest life and brightness to the scene.

"Sunbeams" they all were that day, indeed. No cloud appeared to darken their happiness, no ill-temper, jealousy, or desire to outvie one another was heard or seen. Even Gracie and Hattie, who were each rather oppressed with the sense of past naughtiness, and the feeling of what the others would say and think if they knew all, could not but be bright and gay amid this pleasant companionship.

Gracie had told Hattie that she had confessed her sin to her mother, and the latter knew that some share of blame must have fallen to her; so, although she did not look upon it in as serious a light as Gracie did, she had an uncomfortable and conscious feeling. Miss Ashton had talked to her more seriously than she had ever done before, and had also informed her parents of what had taken place, telling them that she did not wish to disgrace Hattie, and so, as it was near the close of school, she would not ask them to remove her now; but that she could not take her back in the fall. Hattie's utter disregard of truth had already brought too much trouble into her little flock for her to risk any further mischief from that source.

Hattie's parents had been much mortified and displeased, and the child herself had been severely punished; but I doubt if the punishment had been altogether just; for how was the child who saw equivocation and deceit used at home as a means of family government when convenience demanded it, to learn the value of the jewel thus sullied, or to judge of the line where it was believed that falsehood must stop and truth and uprightness begin?

As for generous Nellie, she seemed to have no recollection of what had passed, unless it was in the new and caressing tenderness of her manner toward Gracie; not a patronizing manner, but one full of encouragement and helpfulness.

The other children wondered not only at Gracie's new gentleness and modesty, but also at the sudden intimacy which seemed to have sprung up between these two.

"Maybe," said Lily privately, "it is because Gracie is learning to think better of herself"—which was just the opposite from what Lily meant—"and Nellie's trying to help her."

"Yes," said Maggie; "perhaps Gracie is learning it is 'never too late to mend,' which would make her much more agreeable, and other people would think more of her. I do think she is improved."

Maggie had yielded not alone to the persuasions of Miss Ashton, but also to an earnest appeal from Gracie, and accepted once more the title of Queen. And very well she became it, standing in front of her throne—which she could not be persuaded to occupy—within the pretty bower into which one end of the piazza had been turned, according to her ideas. Bessie, Belle, and Lily were her "maids of honor," and helped her to sell the bouquets and baskets of flowers with which she was bountifully supplied; and they drove a thriving trade; for so many sweet smiles, bright looks, and winning words went with the flowers that the stock within the "Queen's Bower" was much in demand. She had her band of music too, for half a dozen canary-birds hung within and around the bower, and, excited by the laughter and chatter about them, seemed to try which could sing the loudest and sweetest.

Jessie's parrot was on exhibition, lent by his present owner for the occasion, down in the old summer-house at the end of the garden, where Jessie herself took the ten cents admission fee, and made him display all his accomplishments.

And the Doll! She must have a capital letter to do justice to her perfections. Of all the dolls that ever were seen or heard or thought of, that doll surely took the lead. It would be of no use for me to describe her or her toilet, for if you should ever see her, you would surely tell me that I had not told one half.

It was nearly the hour at which the fair was "to begin," and the children were all gathered about the table on which she was displayed, when there came a ring at the front door-bell.

Away fluttered every little saleswoman to her appointed stand, hoping that this might be the first customer.

And so it proved; for it was no less a person than old Mrs. Howard, who had purposely timed her arrival so that she might be there before any other person.

"Well, my dears," she said, looking round upon the smiling young faces about her, "this is a pretty sight. And, industrious as I know you have been, and kind as your friends have been, I should hardly have thought it possible that you should have made such a fine show on your tables. But you know I have some especial business with you, and I have come early that we may have it over before the rush begins."

This was very encouraging. Mrs. Howard thought it probable they would have "a rush" of customers, and who should know better than she?

"You remember I offered six prizes for different articles to be worked for me," continued the old lady, "but there are only four finished, as you know. My little grand-daughter, Gracie, felt that she had not displayed a proper spirit about them, and she decided not to finish hers for the fair, but to leave it and complete it for me afterwards."

This had been Gracie's own proposal to her mother and grandmother, and they had allowed her to have her own way, thinking that this willingness to put herself behind the others, and to give up even the show of strife with Nellie, told of a spirit of true repentance, as indeed it did. When the other children had asked with much surprise where her mat was, she had answered quietly that she could not finish it. This had not proved any loss to the fair, because the time she would have devoted to the mat had been given to other articles.

"Here, then," continued Mrs. Howard, "are two toilet sets and two mats for me to judge between. Of the latter, the one Nellie Ransom brings is certainly the best in point of work; but it has unfortunately received a bad ink-stain. Now those of us who know Nellie are very sure that this has not come through any neglect or carelessness of her own, and since she did not do it herself it seems hard that she should suffer for it. I should be quite willing to overlook it, for this is really the best piece of work among the four; but I cannot do so unless the others are willing. Those among you who think Nellie ought not to be a loser by this misfortune, raise your hands."

Instantly every little hand was raised, and if one were before another it was Gracie's.

"Very well; that is satisfactory," said Mrs. Howard. "Nellie, my dear, here are ten dollars for your mat, the first money taken in for your fair. The second sum, I think, must go to Maggie's toilet set—ah! yes, Maggie's and Bessie's, I should have said," as she saw the look which Maggie turned upon her sister, as if wishing that she should have her full share of credit—"the third to Dora's mat, and the fourth to Hattie's toilet set. You are all satisfied, I trust, with this arrangement."

There was a murmur of assent, and this part of the business was settled.

"And now," said Mrs. Howard, "I want to say that I think I made a mistake in offering these rates of prices, and so exciting you to outvie one another. I meant to give you a motive for trying to improve yourselves, but I believe it was not a good principle to set you thus one against the other, and I know that it has led to some hard feeling and unkindness. But that, I trust, is now all healed, and I shall take care not to put such temptation in your way again."

The children all thought they knew what Mrs. Howard meant, and with true courteousness they all avoided looking at Gracie.

But this was as much as was ever known by any of them, save the two or three who had been in the secret, of Gracie's temptation and fall. That she had been jealous and unkind to Nellie, they had all seen; that she had gone further and been led into deceit and meanness, they never heard. Hattie, for her own sake, held her peace for once; and penitent Gracie had not to face the scorn and wonder of all her schoolmates.

After this Mrs. Howard went about from table to table, purchasing not only one article, but generally two or three, from each little saleswoman; but she said she would not remove them till the fair was over, so that they might still add to the appearance of their tables. They were all marked SOLD in enormous, staring letters, that there might be no possibility of mistake.

And now, customer after customer began to flock in, and among the earlier arrivals came Mr. Powers, who was immediately seized upon by Belle, and led to the table where the baby doll lay in her glory.

Now it had been announced that whoever offered the highest price for this famous infant was to have her, and it was not to be told till the close of the fair who had done this. The names of would-be purchasers, with the amount each offered, were written down by Miss Annie Stanton, who still held the doll in charge, lest too eager little hands should mar her beauties.

"Please offer a whole lot, papa; I do want her so," said Belle. "Isn't she lovely? Did you ever see such a doll?"

Mr. Powers expressed all the admiration he thought needful, which did not nearly satisfy Belle, who was only half consoled by what she thought a want of proper interest by Maggie's whispered assurance that men "never did appreciate dolls, and it was quite useless to expect it of them. It did not seem to be born in them."

However, Mr. Powers put down his name and the sum he would give, which last remained for the present a secret between him and Miss Annie Stanton.

Mamie Stone was as eager about the doll as Belle, and her mamma was called upon also to offer a high price for the treasure.

But my "Sunbeam" would lengthen itself far beyond its sister rays if I should tell you all that took place at the fair. Enough to say that it was a great success, and that a sum was taken in that was more than sufficient to purchase Jessie's parrot back and to provide a comfortable home for herself and her grandfather for at least a year to come. That is, with what the little girl might hope to make herself by the further sale of her wares.

Evening came, bringing with it the great interest of the day, the announcement of the munificent purchaser of the doll, and every little heart beat high with hope that it might be some friend of her own, who would bestow the coveted prize upon her.

It proved to be Grandmamma Howard.

Belle stood in an agony of expectation, squeezing her father's hand and scarcely breathing in the hush that came before the name was spoken; and when she heard "Mrs. Howard," a rush of color dyed her face, and a look of blank disappointment overspread it. She looked up and caught her father's gaze fixed anxiously upon her. She dashed her little hand across her eyes to scatter the tears that would well up, and, forcing a smile, said with a trembling lip, "Never mind, papa, you meant me to have it, so it was just as good of you."

Her father stooped and kissed her, rejoicing in her sweetness and determined good temper. A little more than a year since, a tempest of tears and sobs would have broken from his over-indulged child; but now she had learned to control herself and to be contented and pleasant even when things did not go quite her own way. She was all smiles and brightness again in a few minutes, nearly consoled for her disappointment by her papa's caress and his few whispered words of blessing.

All believed that Gracie or one of her little sisters would be presented with the doll by her grandmother; and great, therefore, was the amazement of the circle of young friends when the next day it was rumored, then made certain, that Mrs. Howard had sent it to Nellie Ransom.

Every child wondered "why," and so did more than one grown person; for the Howards and the Ransoms were not, as Maggie said, "very intimate, and it was rather surprising Mrs. Howard should think of giving such a present to Nellie. But she seems to have taken a great fancy to her, and Nellie quite deserves it," she added.

"I wonder if she gave it to her because of the mat," said Mamie Stone.

"I think it was because she is such a serious child," said Lily. "I find old people like seriosity, and Nellie has a great deal of it."

So they judged, these little ones. Nellie, gentle, unobtrusive "little sunbeam" that she was, went on her quiet way, shedding light and warmth in many an unsuspected nook and corner, and bringing now and then some hidden seed to blossom in beauty and fragrance.

Only one of her schoolmates ever suspected that it was her thoughtful care for Gracie's character and feelings, her sweet forgiving spirit which led her to forget past injuries, which had won for her the gift of the much coveted doll, and given her a high place in the love and admiration of the few who knew all the story.

Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son.