Emilie the Peacemaker

by Mrs. Thomas Geldart

Having sealed her little note, she asked Mrs. Parker's permission to send it into High Street, and Emilie Schomberg was herself again. You will see, by-and-bye, how Emilie returned Miss Webster's selfishness in a matter yet more important than the loan of the piano. It would have been meeting evil with evil had she retaliated the mean conduct of her landlady. She would undoubtedly have done so, had she yielded to the impulses of her nature; but "how then could I have prayed," said Emilie, "forgive me my trespasses as I forgive them that trespass against me."

The travellers set off early in the morning, and now began the holiday of both governess and pupil. They loved one another so well that the prospect of six weeks' close companionship was irksome to neither; but Emilie had not a holiday of it altogether. Miss Edith was exacting and petulant at times, even with those she loved, and she loved none better than Emilie. Fred, the tormenting brother of whom Edith had spoken in her list of troubles in our first chapter, was undeniably troublesome; and the three maid-servants set themselves from the very first to resist the governess's temporary authority; so we are wrong in calling these Emilie's holidays. She had not, indeed, undertaken the charge very willingly; but Mrs. Parker had befriended her in extremity, and she loved Edith dearly, notwithstanding much in her that was not loveable, so she armed herself for the conflict, and cheerfully and humbly commenced her new duties.

Fred and his elder brother John were at home for the holidays; they were high-spirited lads of fourteen and fifteen years of age, and were particularly fond of teasing both their elder sisters and little Edith; a taste, by-the-bye, by no means peculiar to the Master Parkers, but one which we cannot admire, nevertheless.

The two boys, with Emilie and Edith, were on their way to pay aunt Agnes a little visit, having received from Mrs. Crosse, at the farm, a request for the honour of the young lady's company as well as that of her brothers. John and Frederick were to walk, and Emily and Edith were to go in the little pony gig. As they were leaving the town, Edith caught sight of John coming out of a shop which was a favourite resort of most of the young people and visitors of the town of L----. It was professedly a stationer's and bookseller's, and was kept by Mrs. Cox, a widow woman, who sold balls, fishing tackle, books, boats, miniature spades, barrows, garden tools, patent medicines, &c., and who had lately increased her importance, in the eyes of the young gentlemen, by the announcement that various pyrotechnical wonders were to be obtained at her shop. There are few boys who have not at some time of their boyhood had a mania for pyrotechnics—in plain English, fire-works—and there are few parents, and parents' neighbours, who can say that they relish the smell of gunpowder on their premises.

Mr. Parker had a particular aversion to amusements of the kind. He was an enemy to fishing, to cricketing, to boating; he was a very quiet, gentlemanly, dignified sort of man, and, although a kind father, had perhaps set up rather too high a standard of quietness and order and sedateness for his children. It is a curious fact, but one which it would be rather difficult to disprove, that children not unfrequently are the very opposites of their parents, in qualities such as I have described. Possibly they may not have been inculcated quite in the right manner; but that is not our business here.

Edith guessed what her brothers were after, and told her suspicious to Emilie; but not until they were within sight of the farm-house. John and Fred, who had been a short cut across the fields, were in high glee awaiting their arrival, and assisted Edith and her friend to alight more politely than usual. Aunt Agnes was in ecstasies of delight to see her dear Emilie, and she caressed Edith most lovingly also. Edith liked the old lady, who had a fund of fairy tales, such as the German language is rich in. Often would Edith go and sit by the old lady as she knitted, and listen to the story of the "Flying Trunk," or the "Two Swans," with untiring interest; and old ladies of a garrulous turn like good listeners. So aunt Agnes called Edith a charming girl, and Edith, who had seldom seen aunt Agnes otherwise than conversable and pleasant, thought her a very nice old lady.

Mrs. Crosse was extremely polite; and in the bustle of greeting, and putting up the pony, and aunt Agnes' questions, the fire-work affair was almost forgotten. When they all met at tea, the farmer, who had almost as great a horror of gunpowder as Mr. Parker—and in the vicinity of barns and stacks, with greater reason—declared he smelt a smell which he never tolerated in his house, and asked his boys if they had any about them. They denied it, but it was evident they knew something of the matter; and now Emilie's concern was very great.

After tea she took John by the arm, and looking into his face, said, "I am going to be very intrusive, Sir; I am not your governess, and I have no right to control you, but I wish to be your friend, and may I advise you? Don't take those fire-works out on Mr. Crosse's premises, you have no idea the mischief you might do. You could not have brought them to a worse place. Be persuaded, pray do, to give it up." John, thus appealed to, laughed heartily at Miss Schomberg's fears, said something not very complimentary about Miss S. speaking one word for the farmer's stack, and two for her own nerves, and made his escape to join his brother, and the two young farmers, who were delighted at the prospect of a frolic.

What was to be done? The lads were gone out, and doubtless would send up their rockets and let off their squibs somewhere on the farm, which was a very extensive one. The very idea of fire-works would put aunt Agnes into a terrible state of alarm, so Emilie held her peace. To tell the farmer would, she knew, irritate him fearfully; and yet no time was to be lost. She was older than any of the party, and it was in reliance on her discretion that the visit had been permitted. She appealed to Edith, but Edith, who either had a little fancy to see the fire-works, or, who feared her brothers' ridicule, or who thought Emilie took too much upon herself, gave her no help in the matter.

"Well, Edith," said Emilie, when the farmer's wife left the room to make some preparation for a sumptuous supper, "I have made up my mind what to do. I will not stay here if your brothers are to run any foolish risks with those fire-works. I will go home at once, and tell your papa, he will be in time to stop it; or I will apprise Mr. Crosse, and he can take what steps he pleases."