Bessie had been taught that she must not interrupt when grown people were speaking; so, though she was a little chatterbox when she had leave to talk, she knew when it was polite and proper for her to be quiet.
If the colonel could not come down to the shore, he was almost sure to send for Maggie and Bessie to come to his room, until it came to be quite a settled thing that they were to pass some time there every day when he did not go out, and many a pleasant hour did they spend there. He told them the most delightful and interesting stories of people and things that he had seen while he was in India, being always careful not to tell anything that might shock or grieve them, from the day that he was speaking of the sad death of a little drummer boy, when, to his great surprise and distress, both children broke into a violent fit of crying, and it was some time before they could be pacified. Then such toys as he carved out of wood! He made a little boat with masts and sails for each of them, which they used to sail in the pools that were left by the tide; and a beautiful set of jack-straws, containing arrows, spears, swords, trumpets, and guns.
One day he asked Harry to bring him some sprigs from the spruce tree, and the next time Maggie and Bessie came to see him, there was a tiny set of furniture,—a sofa and half a dozen chairs to match, all made of those very sprigs. He used to lie and carve, while Mrs. Rush was reading to him; and sometimes he worked while the children were there, and it was such a pleasure to watch him. Then he had some books with fine pictures, and oh! wonder of wonders, and what the children liked best of all, such a grand musical-box, they had never seen one like it. Mamma had a small one which played three tunes, but it was a baby musical-box to this, which was so very much larger, and played twenty. They never tired of it, at least Bessie did not; and she would sit looking into it and listening so earnestly that often she seemed to see and hear nothing else around her. Maggie was fond of it, too, but she could not keep quiet so long as Bessie, and often wanted to be off and playing out of doors long before her sister was ready to go.
There were many days when the colonel was suffering too much pain to talk or play with them, and they had to be very still if they went into his room. Then Maggie never cared to stay very long, nor indeed did the colonel care much to have her; for though she tried her best to be gentle and quiet, those restless little hands and feet seemed as if they must be moving; and she was almost sure to shake his sofa, or to go running and jumping across the room, in a way that distressed him very much, though her merry ways amused him when he was able to bear them. Quiet little mouse of a Bessie went stealing about so softly that she never disturbed the sick man; and so it came about that she spent many an hour in his room without Maggie. Maggie never half enjoyed her play, if her sister was not with her; but she was not selfish, and did not complain if Bessie sometimes left her for a while.
[VIII.]
BESSIE'S LITTLE SERMON.
ONE afternoon when the children had gone over to the hotel to see grandmamma, a basket of fine fruit came, from Riverside. They had not been to the colonel's room for two or three days, for he had been suffering very much, and was not able to see any one. When the fruit came grandmamma put some on a plate, and sent Bessie with it to the colonel's door, but told her that she must not go in.
Bessie went to the door, and, putting her plate down on the hall floor, knocked very gently. Mrs. Rush came and opened the door, and, taking up her plate again, Bessie handed it to her, gave her grandmamma's message, and was going away, when she heard the colonel's voice. "Is that my pet?" he said.