Besides, Johnnie was quite well now; and perhaps no child, so well brought up, could have been so constantly naughty the whole week without some degree of ailment, suspected neither by himself nor others. For this is one of our real troubles, when either young or old, that sometimes there is a feeling of discomfort and vexation about us that, without knowing why, makes everything go amiss, causes everybody else to appear cross, and all tasks, all orders, all misadventures, to become great grievances. Grown-up people feel this as well as children; but they have gone through it often enough to know what is the matter, and they have, or ought to have, more self-command. But children have yet to learn by experience that the outer things are not harder and more untoward, so much as that they themselves are out of sorts. This is poor comfort; and certainly it is dangerous to say to ourselves that being poorly is any excuse for letting ourselves be cross, or for not doing our best. If Mrs. Merrifield had thought so, what miserable lives her husband and children would have led! No, the way to use the certain fact that the state of our bodies affects our tempers and spirits, is to say to ourselves, “Well, if this person or this thing do seem disagreeable, or if this work, or even this little bit of obedience, be very tiresome, perhaps it may really be only a fancy of mine, and if I go to it with a good will, I may work off the notion;” or, “Perhaps I am cross to-day, let me take good care how I answer.” And a little prayer in our hearts will be the best help of all. Self-command and goodness will not come by nature as we grow up, but we must work for them in childhood.
When the Monday allowances were brought out, and the pig’s chance inquired into, David alone produced his whole sum, untouched by forfeiture or waste, and dropped it into “Toby Fillpot.” Elizabeth had her entire sixpence; but a penny had been spent on a letter to Mamma, and she gave but one to the fund, in spite of the black looks she met from David. Sam had lost a farthing by the shower, and had likewise bought a queen’s head, to write to his father. The rest, fourpence-three farthings, he paid over. Poor Johnnie! his last week’s naughtiness had exceeded his power of paying fines, and a halfpenny was subtracted from this week’s threepence; while the Gibraltar man had consumed all that fines had spared to little Annie, had left Susan only threepence, and Henry but twopence-halfpenny. This, with twopence that Miss Fosbrook had found in her travelling-bag, made one shilling and fourpence-farthing—a very poor collection for one week. David was quite melancholy.
“Never mind,” said Henry; “Mr. Carey’s brother, the Colonel, is coming to stay here the last week in July, and he gives us boys half-a-sovereign each, so that we might buy a stunning pig all ourselves twice over.”
“Always? He never did so but once,” said Sam.
“That was the only time he saw us, though,” said Hal; “and we were quite little boys then. I’ll tell you what, Sam, he’ll give us each a sovereign this time, and then I’ll buy a bow and arrows.”
“Stuff!” said Sam. “I hope he won’t.”
“Why not?”
“I hate it! I hate saying thank you; I shall get out of the way, if I can.”
“Sam has no manners!” said Hal, turning round to Miss Fosbrook. “To think that he had rather go without a sovereign or two than say thank you!”
“I’m too much of a gentleman to lay myself out for presents!” retorted Samuel; and the two boys fell on each other, buffeting one another, all in good part on Sam’s side, though there was some temper and annoyance on Henry’s.