“This may be a useful lesson to you, dear Isabel,” she said. “It will teach you that no real happiness is ever derived from a selfish act. Your motive in presenting a more expensive gift to your teacher than the rest of your companions were prepared to do, was selfish. You expected to receive praise and admiration. In this you were disappointed, and therefore you are unhappy. Another time I trust you will do better. In expending your money for Christmas gifts, you will remember those who need it most, and will gladly give, hoping for nothing again.”
Isabel still wept, but less violently than before, and when Mary entered with a beaming countenance, and told her mother of the gratitude and joy of the poor people whom they had visited, Isabel put her arm around her neck and asked her forgiveness for her ill humor, and promised that when another Christmas came, she too would remember those who need it most.
APRIL FOOL’S DAY.
“What new experiment are you trying, my son?” asked Mr. Willard, as he entered his pleasant parlor late in the afternoon of a day in early spring, unperceived by his little son Arthur, who was busily employed in tying up several small packages which lay on the table before him.
Arthur looked up at his father with a bright smile; for Mr. Willard always took a great interest in the amusements of his children, and they were in the habit of consulting him and asking his assistance in many of their sports.
“Don’t tell Willie and Jane, father,” said Arthur, “and I will tell you all about it. You know to-morrow will be the first day of April, and I expect to have a fine time playing tricks upon people. There is nothing in these parcels but little chips and stones. I shall put one of them upon Jane’s table after she is asleep to-night; and she will be sure to open it the first thing in the morning. I expect she will think that Uncle Samuel or Aunt Mary were here in the evening, and brought her a nice little present. Then I shall drop another package where Willie will find it when he goes to feed his chickens. What a hurry he will be in to pick it up!
“And, father,” continued Arthur, “you do not know what a nice joke I shall play upon Susan! Sometimes, when I get up early in the morning, and she is in a hurry getting breakfast, I go to Mr. Conant’s for the milk. Now, to-morrow morning I mean to be up very early, before Susan leaves her room. Then I will take the milk-pail, and put a quart of water into it, and set it in the place where I usually put it when I bring the milk. When Susan comes into the kitchen, she will see the pail on the table, and, finding it heavy, will suppose I have been for the milk. So she will say, ‘O, Arthur! you are a good boy to bring my milk;’ and then she will take off the cover to pour it into the pitcher. How I shall laugh at her when she finds it is water!”
Mr. Willard smiled a little as Arthur clapped his hands at the thought of Susan’s vexation: but in a moment he looked grave, and, seating himself in his rocking-chair, he drew his little son close to his side, and said, kindly,—
“Do the angels try to make people happy or unhappy, Arthur?”
“Happy, father,” replied the boy, looking wonderingly in his father’s face.