"Yes, dear, I think we may call him a miser; and I am glad my little girl remembers so well. We may be miserly with other things than money. If we do not use any of the gifts which God has given us as he intended we should do, for our own good and that of others, we are misers; and it is as wrong to do so as it would be to waste them, or throw them away. Suppose you were to say, 'These are very small hands and feet which God has given to me; they are not nearly as large as papa's or mamma's, or even as strong as my brothers; they cannot do much work, so they shall do none at all; I will not run up and down stairs, or go little errands: I will not rock the baby, or amuse Franky, or do any other thing which might save my mamma some trouble; I will not even play about, or go out to walk, but just sit still and do nothing all day long. Or, this is a very young mind of mine, it knows very little, and cannot understand everything, so I shall not try to learn and add more knowledge to that which I have. I cannot do much for the praise and glory of God who made me and gave me every good thing I have, so I shall not try to please him at all. I will take and keep all he gives me, but I will not use it or enjoy it, nor let others do so.' This would be like the poor foolish man who buried his talent, instead of making use of it for his lord. It would be like a miser."
"But, papa," said Maggie, "I don't think I could be a miser with my hands and feet. Why, I would think it was dreadful to sit still all day and do nothing. They will move sometimes even when I don't mean them to; and if I want them to keep still, they seem to forget and just move of themselves."
Mr. Bradford smiled as he remembered how true Maggie's words were. It did indeed seem impossible for those restless little hands and feet to keep still; they must always be busy about something, and he knew that she could scarcely have a greater punishment than to be forced to sit quiet for ten or fifteen minutes at a time.
"Papa must take his hands and feet away now," he said, "or they will be late at the office. The hands and the head, too, have a good deal to do to-day if they are to feel at liberty to go to Riverside to-morrow; so kiss me for good-by."
Mr. Bradford stopped in the breakfast-room, where the boys still were, and telling them of what their sisters were trying to do, and how earnest they were about it, said he hoped they would neither tease nor laugh at them, but would do all in their power to help them.
Harry and Fred were really sorry when they heard how distressed the little girls had been, and promised to do nothing more to trouble them.
"I cannot quite promise not to laugh at Bessie, papa," said Harry. "She says such droll things in such a droll way, or twists something about, and comes out with it with such a grand air for such a mite of a thing as she is, that a fellow can't help laughing."
"The greater the difficulty, the greater the kindness to your little sister, my son. I know it is hard, sometimes almost impossible, to help smiling, or even laughing outright, at some of Bessie's speeches; but you may avoid doing so in a loud, boisterous, mocking way. Put yourselves in her place, boys, and think how you would like it."
"I'm sure I do not mind being laughed at, papa; at least, not much," said Harry.
"No," said Fred, "that he don't; so he never is laughed at. The other fellows say it's no fun teasing him, he's so cool about it."