There was much to justify the suspicion expressed by Lucius that the work so eagerly begun by the Temples would, before it could be finished, become a burden and a tax upon the patience of all. On the very next day began a season of warmth and sunshine, which did more to drive away coughs and restore vigor to late invalids than could all the skill of the doctor. Even Agnes was able to spend hours in the open air; and, except at mealtimes, Lucius liked to be out all the day. His fidgety work, as he called it, could scarcely be done but indoors, and the boy found it a grievous task.
“But it would be a shame not to go on with the model now, after putting mamma to so much trouble and expense,” observed Lucius one morning to Dora. “Besides, I engaged to do it, and no English boy must flinch back from keeping his word. The new knife which I bought yesterday is not to be compared to that which I so unluckily snapped over the pasteboard; but I must hack away steadily, and show a good example to that lazy puss Elsie, who since the fine weather began has not put another stitch into her Turkey-red curtains.”
“She has stowed them away in her doll’s cradle,” observed Dora, laughing.
Mrs. Temple was not surprised to find that the making of the model now progressed more slowly; she was rather pleased to see the amount of perseverance shown by her children after the charm of novelty had worn off. Even the “lazy puss” drew her work from its hiding-place, and would sew—for five minutes at a time—“just to please dear mamma.” All the five Temples continued to work, when work had ceased to be an amusement; but they worked from different motives. Those which influenced Lucius—a manly, honorable boy—have been mentioned already, as well as the simple wish to please mother which made Elsie prick her plump little finger under her Turkey-red cloth. But if you could glance into the hearts of the three other girls as they sit together industriously plying their needles, we should find an example of how the very same effect may be produced by different causes.
Amy had from the very first considered her humble work as something to be done for her Heavenly Master, and this sweet thought made her take pleasure in labor, which without it would have been wearisome indeed. It was this thought which made Amy put fine hemming and stitching into the long strips of white lawn which represented the linen curtains surrounding the court of the Tabernacle, and even unpick any portion which did not seem to her to be sewn neatly enough. Amy tried to give her best, her very best work, because she was giving it to the Lord, and some of the happiest hours which the little girl ever had known were spent over her tedious curtains.
“I cannot think, Amy, how you can go on so patiently with what is so tiresome, with no variety in it, and a kind of work which will not look striking when all is done,” exclaimed Dora one day, as she unrolled some glittering gold thread from her reel.
Amy smiled as she glanced up at her sister’s far more amusing occupation. “If I could have worked anything so pretty as the veil which you are making, I daresay that I should have liked it much better,” she observed. “But I am pleased to do the plain work as well as I can, as the embroidery would have been far too difficult for me.”
Amy’s curtains might seem plain to the eyes of most people, but her mother looked upon them with special pleasure; for, as she said to herself, “they are embroided all over with faith and love.”
Agnes also made steady progress with her not very inviting work, though she took in it no great pleasure. Agnes regarded the sewing as a matter of duty, and therefore plied her needle in the same spirit as that in which she struggled to subdue her temper, and tried to put a bridle on her tongue. It was the work which had been given to her, and she would do it, without asking herself whether she liked it or not.
“This material, neither smooth nor pretty, is something like a type of me,” thought Agnes, as she put the finishing stitch into one of her mohair curtains; “but the goats’-hair had just as much its appointed place in the Tabernacle as loops of silver and sockets of gold. I shall never be as much liked and admired as Dora is—I may as well make up my mind to that; but if God help me by His grace, I too may lead a useful life, and be dear—at least to my mother.”