And do forget our happy lot.’”
“George,” said Miss Temple, “how can you be so foolish?” but she laughed again, and the others, too, went on laughing and joking him about his “nonsense;” while poor Maggie sat,—with downcast-eyes, changing color, and beating heart,—listening intently to every word her tormentor uttered, and wondering how much more pain he would put her through. As for Bessie, she had at first heard in wondering surprise those strangely familiar lines; but surprise soon changed to sympathy for her Maggie, and indignation against Mr. Temple.
Suddenly Kate turned her eyes towards the two little faces, and the expression of both left no room for doubt as to who was the author of the unfortunate verses. Maggie was in an agony of embarrassment: too well did Kate know the signs, and remember with shame how, not long since, she herself had found as much amusement in them as George Temple was probably now doing, since he was taking so much pains to excite them. But Kate had learned better, and had grown more thoughtful and considerate, more careful not to give pain to another for the sake of a little passing enjoyment to herself. How cruel Mr. Temple’s teasing seemed to her now, and how she felt for Maggie!
For Bessie, too, who she saw was trying to keep down her rising temper, she was very sorry. She must come to the rescue in some way.
“I might have known from the first,” she said to herself, “that those were Maggie’s verses. They sound just like her,—just like her happy, grateful, little heart, always so ready and eager to give praise and gratitude where they are due. They are not bad for such a child, either; but I must help her out of this. Poor little Maggie!”
“There’s another sentiment of the talented writer, to which I shall also say amen,” began Mr. Temple again,—
“‘And then I’ve lots of friends at home
From whom just now away I roam;
I hope they’ll all be safe and sound