Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

[Illustration: SPARKLING GEMS
 BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE.]



                          Gem of Neatness:

                                 OR,

                            THE COUSINS.


                                 BY

                        MRS. MADELINE LESLIE



    "Let all things be done decently and in order."—I COR 14:40.



                               BOSTON:
                         ANDREW F. GRAVES.
                            20 CORNHILL.



      Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872,
                        BY A. R. BAKER, D.D.
     In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.



 J. D. Flagg & Co.
 51 Walter and 57 Congress Sta.
 Boston.



                               LIST

                                OF

                          SPARKLING GEMS

                            FOR YOUTH.


                        SERIES FOR GIRLS.


VOL. I. GEM OF COURTESY.

VOL. II. GEM OF COURAGE.

VOL. III. GEM OF FAITHFULNESS.

VOL. IV. GEM OF NEATNESS.

VOL. V. GEM OF TRUTHFULNESS.

VOL. VI. GEM OF EARNESTNESS.



                               LIST

                                OF

                          SPARKLING GEMS

                            FOR YOUTH.


                         SERIES FOR BOYS.


VOL. I. GEM OF UPRIGHTNESS.

VOL. II. GEM OF SELF-DENIAL.

VOL. III. GEM OF PERSEVERANCE.

VOL. IV. GEM OF TEMPERANCE.

VOL. V. GEM OF SELF-CONTROL.

VOL. VI. GEM OF GENEROSITY.



                             DEDICATION.

MY DEAR LITTLE HARRY:

I HAVE DEDICATED THESE SMALL VOLUMES TO YOU,
PRAYING THAT THE GEMS OF WHICH THEY TREAT, MAY
ADORN YOUR CROWN IN THE CORONATION DAY OF CHRIST'S
BELOVED.

                 Your affectionate grandmother,

                                       THE AUTHOR.



                              PREFACE.

THE author of these volumes recently attended the commencement of a
seminary, in which sparkling crowns were placed on the heads of such of
the graduates as had been distinguished for diligence, faithfulness,
neatness and other virtues. Being very much pleased with the design,
I have appropriated the idea in these small volumes.

On the illuminated title page, the teacher and pupils appear. He holds
up to their view a sparkling gem, just taken from his cabinet. We may
imagine him explaining to them, that these precious stones are used in
the Bible as emblems of the different graces which adorn the character
of Christians, even as God says: these graces "shall be as the stones
of a crown," put upon their heads.



                              CONTENTS.

 CHAPTER I. EMILY'S BUREAU

 CHAPTER II. OLD FRIENDS

 CHAPTER III. MILLY'S ARRIVAL

 CHAPTER IV. MILLY AT PRAYERS

 CHAPTER V. MILLY AT TABLE

 CHAPTER VI. MILLY'S REQUEST

 CHAPTER VII. GRANDMA'S ARRIVAL

 CHAPTER VIII. THE MISSIONARIES

 CHAPTER IX. ORDER FROM CONFUSION

 CHAPTER X. MILLY'S CHAMBER

 CHAPTER XI. A DRIVE TO THE BEACH

 CHAPTER XII. MILLY'S ESCAPE



                         GEM OF NEATNESS.

CHAPTER I.

EMILY'S BUREAU.

MRS. MORGAN stood at the door of her little daughter's chamber, a
bright smile of satisfaction illumining her countenance. Presently she
stepped back into the hall, and, leaning over the balustrade, called
out:

"Cousin Mary, come up here a moment."

A light step on the stairs, and cousin Mary stood by her side.

"This is Emily's room," said her mamma—"just as she left it for school.
Everything has a place, and is in its place."

Mrs. Roby, who was cousin Mary, entered the neat chamber, her eyes
beaming with pleasure.

"It looks just like Emily," she said in an enthusiastic tone.

"See! That book-rack,—How very even the row of volumes, and not one
speck of dust on them;—and this tiny vase, with one carnation-pink!
Priscilla, your daughter is a jewel of a girl as our old Pat used to
say. Her habit of neatness and order will be worth a fortune to her."

"She is naturally neat and orderly," added Mrs. Morgan. "When she was
not more than three years old, she used to want to help when I dusted
the parlors. I always take that duty on myself, you know. So Emily must
have an old veil tied over her golden curls, because mamma wore a veil
to keep off the dust; and she must have a piece of silk for a duster.
It was too funny to see her fly from one chair to another, just as soon
as I had dusted it, and rub, rub, with all her strength."

"Does she take the entire care of her room?"

"Yes, now she does," answered mamma. "Hannah used to open the bed, and
turn the mattress; but she was so anxious to do it all; and sometimes
she had to wait for Hannah to get through with other work, so her
father had the mattress carried to the upholsterer's, and cut in two
parts. She can lift it now without any difficulty."

While Mrs. Morgan was speaking, her cousin had gone toward the bureau,
and with her hands on the knobs of the upper drawer asked:

"May I look?"

"Certainly."

It was, indeed, a beautiful sight. A box in one of the front corners
contained a pile of pocket handkerchiefs. Another at the left was
filled with ribbons of various colors used for her hair and her neck.
Each piece was rolled up nicely and laid by itself. Then there was a
tiny box, holding a pretty brooch,—her last birthday gift from papa. A
black silk apron and two or three white ones neatly folded lay at the
back part of the drawer.

The next two contained different kinds of under clothes, each variety
in a pile by itself.

"She puts everything away herself," explained her mamma. "Hannah lays
her clean clothes on the bed, as they come up from the wash; and when
she comes home she takes care of them without being reminded to do so.
But look here?"

The lady opened the underdrawer, and displayed a beautiful wax doll
covered with a small quilt pieced from tiny scraps of bright-colored
silk. Miss Rose Standish lay with a sweet smile on her round face; and
well she might smile, for there within her reach at the back part of
the drawer was every thing in the shape of a wardrobe which the most
extravagant dolly could desire. There was a set of white furs, muff and
tippet to match; and another set of gray with the cunningest little
wristers you ever saw. There were hats with plumes, and hats with
velvet trimmings, and sacks, and skirts, and shoes and parasol to shade
the little Miss from the sun. Oh, it would be easier to tell what there
was not!

"It's a perfect show," exclaimed Mrs. Roby. "It's as good as Barnum's
baby show. I wonder what aunt Lydia will say to it."

"The best of it is," added mamma, "that she has made the most of the
clothes herself. I used to cut and baste for her; but of late, she has
had a pattern and cut them herself. Her father says he hopes she will
play with dolls till she is married. He is enthusiastic on the subject.
Why, you'd laugh to hear him talk. He believes that, the dressing and
undressing of dolls, and disciplining them, as Emily does hers, is
the very best preparation for the duties of a mother that a child can
possibly have. He would give Emily any amount of money she would ask to
buy materials to make up for Miss Rose. By and by, I must tell you a
story about that gray set of furs."

"Tell me now, please. I'm sure," added Mrs. Roby laughing, "if I had
ever disbelieved in hereditary traits, I would give up my doubts after
this."

"What do you mean?"

"Why from the stories I've heard Aunt Lydia tell about you, I think
Emily is just her mamma over again."

"Yes, I used to be ridiculously fond of dolls, there is no denying it;
but in those days, a wax doll was a thing unknown. My best doll was
a beauty though. She had eyes that shone like diamonds, and painted
curls. I used to call her Esther, after Queen Esther, I suppose; and I
was very proud of her."



CHAPTER II.

OLD FRIENDS.

MRS. MORGAN shut the bureau as she spoke, saying with a smile: "Emily
will know in a minute, that somebody has been to her drawers."

"I had better confess beforehand then. Are you going to sew now?"

"Yes, I'll be ready presently."

Ina few moments, Mrs. Morgan joined her cousin in the pleasant
sitting-room. But before I tell you what they talked about, I wish to
explain who these two ladies were.

Mrs. Morgan was the wife of a gentleman of good fortune connected with
the great Express lines from north to south. They were both members of
the Episcopal Church; and it was their earnest prayer that they might
be not professors only, but possessors of vital godliness. During
the first years of their married life, they went much into company,
attended balls and concerts night after night. By this means, they lost
much of the fervor of their religion.

Indeed, so conformed were they to the world and its pleasures, that
they could scarcely be distinguished from the world's people. But their
Father in heaven was watching over them. He saw into their hearts, and
he knew that even while involved in this round of gayety, they were
not satisfied. He knew there were times when they turned with loathing
from all this hollow friendship, and longed for the quiet happiness
they once enjoyed. God in his abounding kindness had a purpose of mercy
toward these his wandering children; and he took means to bring them
back to himself.

He removed first a beautiful babe who had scarcely opened its eyes in
this world, to his paradise above. Then, when this did not wean the
mother from circles of fashion, from the theatre and opera, he took
another child, a darling boy, the pride of both parents, to swell the
song of infant worshippers before his throne. A few months later,
and while their hearts were still bleeding with sorrow, Emily their
first-born and best-beloved was seized with scarlet-fever, and lay for
days hovering between life and death.

Now, when the waves and the billows of trouble were rolling over them,
they began to call upon God for help. But to their aching hearts, he
did not seem a refuge near at hand. He appeared to be afar off, so
far that their cry could not reach him. But if not to their heavenly
Father, to whom could they go in their deep distress? Then they began
to feel that they had sinned.

In their days of prosperity, they had forgotten to give thanks. They
mourned together over the sinfulness which had led them far away from
real happiness; and then in infinite compassion, their elder brother,
their Saviour appeared to comfort them. The gracious spirit suggested
words of cheer: "Return unto me, and I will return unto you."

By the bedside of their sick and apparently dying child, they renewedly
consecrated themselves and all that they had, to the service of their
Saviour. They bowed in sweet submission to the will of God. They cried
indeed "Spare her, Lord," but from the heart they added, "if such be
thy holy will."

And a merciful God did spare the child. She was gradually restored to
perfect health. From this time her parents commenced a new life. They
were constant at church. They took classes in the Sunday school. They
visited the poor and afflicted. They did all in their power to stay up
the hands of their faithful pastor.

All the energy and activity they had before displayed in the invention
of new pleasures were now employed for the good of those about them.
They were indeed a blessing in society; and in blessing others, they
received a rich reward in their own hearts. One glance into the serene
countenance of Mrs. Morgan showed that her soul was at peace.

Sickness and sorrow might come as it comes to every one; but she felt
that all events for her were ordered by a Father's hand. Emily was
their one treasure, spared to them from the grave. Is it strange that
she was taught from her earliest recollection that her chief aim in
life should be to love and serve her Maker and Preserver?

Mrs. Roby, own cousin to Mrs. Morgan, had married young, and gone with
her husband to the West. He had been successful in business, and had
now come East for a few months, his wife improving the occasion long
desired, to revive her acquaintance with those so dear to her. She
had only arrived the day before; and every moment that her cousin was
at liberty was improved in asking questions about herself and other
friends.

Aunt Lydia was Mrs. Morgan's mother who usually passed a part of every
year with her, greatly to the delight of Emily.



CHAPTER III.

MILLY'S ARRIVAL.

THERE is another member of Mr. Morgan's family not yet introduced. Her
real name is Amelia Lewis; but everybody seems to have forgotten it;
and she now answers to the names Milly, or Mill. She is an orphan niece
of Mr. Morgan, the child of his favorite sister, who went to India with
her husband, and died there shortly after Amelia's birth.

For seven years, her father kept the child with him in Calcutta; and
then she was sent home to his mother, where she remained until the old
lady's increasing infirmities made the care a burden.

Mr. Morgan, hearing at last of Milly's destitute situation, consulted
with his wife as to what was best to be done with the little girl.
He proposed a boarding-school, and offered to be answerable for all
expenses; but Mrs. Morgan, with great feeling, exclaimed:

"No, George, never to a boarding-school with my consent. What she needs
is a home, where she can be loved and taught her duty."

"But we know nothing about her habits, and I cannot have our sweet
Emily exposed to influences which may corrupt her pure mind."

"Listen a moment, George. Somebody certainly owes a duty to the poor
orphan. If it is ours, we will undertake it, trusting in God to
preserve our child from harm. We have endeavored to teach her to love
her Saviour, and to pray to him to shield her from temptation. Now we
must have faith to believe he will answer prayer."

"But, Priscilla, think how Milly has been brought up. You know what
life in India is, from poor Ida's letters. And without a mother, the
child has been tossed about from one native servant to another. I
really can't see the way clear; and then think what a care for you!"

"Give me twenty-four hours to reflect," said the lady, cheerfully. "I
will tell you then whether I will undertake it."

The next evening, a letter was written inviting Milly to make her uncle
a visit; he volunteering a promise to pay her expenses for a year,
either at his own house or at a suitable school. A week later, Milly
arrived, in company with a neighbor of her grandmother, and quite a
sensation did her debut create.

Milly was now in her tenth year, eight months younger than Emily. She
had eyes that shone like stars; and a complexion dark as an Indian. Her
form was slender, and her movements graceful. Her limbs were so supple
that she could throw herself into any attitude and did so to the alarm
of her aunt, who feared every moment that she would dislocate some bone.

It would be difficult to conceive a greater contrast than existed
between the cousins. Emily was of fair complexion, with deep blue
eyes and auburn hair. In her person and dress, she was the picture of
neatness, while from her birth her parents had carefully guarded her
from every breath of harm.

Milly, on her arrival from a day's journey in the cars, looked like
a wild girl. Her face was covered with dust; her hair which floated
loosely over her shoulders, looked as though unacquainted with a brush;
her hands were grimy with dirt; her nails even had a deep border of
black; her dress was buttoned awry; her boots were only half laced; and
the strings hung dangling around her ancles, threatening every moment
to trip her up.

When the child had carelessly bid the neighbor who accompanied her to
the door good-by, without a word of thanks, and then, no ways abashed,
stood in the centre of the room gazing curiously at her new found
relatives, Mrs. Morgan cast a despairing glance from her husband to
Emily.

The little girl, in the meantime, was trying hard to convince herself
that this poor, neglected creature was the dear cousin, for whose
arrival she had been so impatient. She blushed crimson as she noticed
the slovenly hair and soiled dress; all desire to have Milly share her
room and bed vanishing on the instant. She could not endure the thought
of a kiss from a mouth with teeth so entirely a stranger to the brush.

But Milly did not notice the neglect. Alter one long, searching gaze
into the faces of her relatives, she threw her hat into a chair, tossed
back with a quick jerk of her head the locks fallen over her face; then
with a loud yawn, exclaimed:

"I say, isn't it hot? I'm awfully hungry, too."

This appeal changed Emily's aversion to sympathy. She stepped forward
eagerly, and seizing her cousin's hand, said:

"Come with me to your room and wash. Supper will be ready in a few
minutes."

She led the way to a small chamber on the opposite side of the hall
from her own, saying as she did so, "I'll help you to dress for tea."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Morgan, throwing up her hands when the
children were out of hearing, "Isn't she a real Hindoo? Can she ever be
civilized?"

Mr. Morgan sighed repeatedly. "Oh, Ida!" he murmured, "How your child
reminds me of you! So like, yet so different; impulsive and careless,
but with a warm heart!"

They were interrupted by a loud, prolonged laugh from the chamber; and
in a few minutes the cousins came down stairs hand in hand, just as the
bell in the hall called them to supper.



CHAPTER IV.

MILLY AT PRAYERS.

IT was evident that Emily had attempted to improve her cousin's
appearance. Her face and hands were clean; and one lock of hair next
her face had been brushed smoothly, and tied back with a cherry ribbon,
from Emily's drawer. An apron and collar had been added from the same
place.

At the door of the dining-room, Milly snatched her hand from her
cousin, and dashed up to her aunt, asking, in a loud voice, "Say,
doesn't I look smart? May I keep this red ribbon for my own?"

At the table, while her uncle said grace, Milly folded her hands to be
sure; but her eyes wandered from one dish to another. She did not wait
till the plate of biscuit was passed, but snatched one, and commenced
eating it, biting a huge piece off the side as a dog would have done.

Emily blushed. "Wasn't it dreadful?" she asked mamma afterward.

"Did you have no dinner, Milly?" inquired her uncle, greatly annoyed.

"I had a paper bag full of doughnuts and cheese," answered the child,
talking with her mouth full, and showing all the process of masticating
her food, occasionally using her tongue to disengage the bread from her
teeth. "Martha made them on purpose. You know old Martha, don't you?"

Mr. Morgan gravely bowed assent. Every moment he was becoming more
convinced that Milly must be sent away to school.

When Mrs. Morgan passed the visitor a glass dish of currant jelly, she
smacked her lips, and glancing in her aunt's face with a smile, she
burst out:

"I say, isn't this red stuff jolly good?"

"I'm glad you like it, my dear," was the kind reply.

Mr. Morgan pushed back his plate, saying in rather a petulant tone, "My
appetite has gone."

"Oh, papa!" said Emily, "You've only eaten one biscuit."

When the tea had been removed, Emily carried the Bible and hymn books
to her father, taking the opportunity, as she leaned over his shoulder,
to whisper to him:

"I love you dearly, papa."

He glanced in her anxious face, nodded pleasantly, and then named the
hymn they would sing.

The exercises which followed appeared to interest Milly intensely. She
listened to the reading with open mouth, her keen gaze being fastened
on her uncle till he closed the Bible.

During the singing, her expression softened, till the tears stood in
her eyes. But after the first verse, she hummed an accompaniment,
entirely ignoring the words, her voice, as they all acknowledged
afterward, being as sweet and clear as a nightingale in his native
woods.

When they rose from their seats to kneel, Milly squatted awkwardly down
in front of her chair, her chin resting on her hands. Her eyes were at
first fixed on a beautiful painting of fruit which hung above her; but
presently her attention was arrested by the petitions:

"Help us, Lord, to be kind to the poor orphan who has this day come
to us. May she be docile and affectionate; and may we be patient and
faithful. May we always bear in mind that she has not been so highly
favored by Providence as we have been, and may we, both by precept and
example, teach her that the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness,
and all her paths are peace."

When the prayer was finished, Milly stood still for a moment, while
Emily, as usual, gathered the books and restored them to a shelf in the
bookcase. Then, with a sudden impulse, the poor little stranger dashed
to the side of her uncle, exclaiming:

"I like you. I thought at first I shouldn't; and I like to hear you
talk to God as you did just now."

"Stop a minute, Milly," cried her uncle, as she was darting away. "I
want to speak to you. Do you know," he added affectionately, taking her
hand, "that your mother was my sister Ida, whom I dearly loved? For
her sake, and for your own, too, I hope we shall do everything in our
power to make you a useful and happy woman. But tell me, Milly, do you
ever talk to God? Do you ask him to take care of you, and make you his
child?"

"I did once, on board ship," returned Milly. "A man told me God made
everything on sea and land; but I don't believe he made Juggernaut.
It's such a horrid creature, and kills so many people under its great
wheels."

Before Mr. Morgan could say any more, the child darted away.



CHAPTER V.

MILLY AT TABLE.

IT was not an easy task for Mrs. Morgan to tame this wild creature; but
when her husband said, hopelessly:

"It will take years, Priscilla; and in the meantime Emily will be
ruined."

She answered, in a cheerful voice:

"God has given us the work, George, I would not dare to refuse it."

There were many times every day that she was ready to despair. Milly
had not one idea of neatness and order, and could not be made to
comprehend that it was of any consequence to put her clothes, books and
toys in place. Her hat as often was tossed on a chair in the hall, her
sack on the doorstep as on the hook and shelves allotted to them. In
her room were a bureau and closet. Her aunt showed her Emily's clothes,
hung or folded so neatly; but when she asked kindly:

"Won't you try, Milly, to keep yours in place?" the only answer was the
laughing one:

"I can't bother with things. Let the servants do it."

"My poor child," said the lady tenderly, "it would be much easier for
me to send Hannah to dress your bed, and make your room tidy, than to
teach you to do it. But can't you understand that I do it for your
good?"

"If you do not learn to be neat now, while you are young, you never
will be likely to learn at all. If you have a house of your own, you
will not be able to find anything. You remember what an inconvenience
it is every day not to find your hat, your gloves, your jumping-rope,
your hoop-stick; and how much time it takes to hunt for them, when, if
you had a place for every thing, and kept every thing in its place if
not in use, you would—"

"Oh!" interrupted Milly, "I say, what's the use of learning so many
things, when, as soon as I'm grown, I'm going back to India to live
with father. There are plenty of servants in the bungalows, and if I
did the work, they would have nothing to do, but chew betel nuts, which
makes them lazy."

"But, Milly, you know the Bible is God's word. God, our heavenly
Father, who loves us and preserves us from harm, tells us—"

"Yes, I know about him. The man on board ship told me that he is
not cruel and hateful like the gods the Hindoos worship. I like him
first-rate."

"Well, my dear, our God tells us what we must do in order to get into
heaven when we die. I'm sure you want to please him and go there."

Milly nodded her head in a decided manner.

"One of his rules is this: 'Let every thing be done decently and is
order;' and a writer has told us—'Order is heaven's first law.'"

"If we don't obey the law of God, we displease him."

"But he won't tell anybody to throw us to the crocodiles. The man
told me that, or else I shouldn't like him. The man says he forgives
everybody."

"He does, every man, woman and child, who pray for forgiveness; but not
those who go on breaking his laws. That would be only mocking him."

"Oh! There's Emily, home from school."

And before Mrs. Morgan could put out her hand to detain the child, she
had darted away.

Two weeks passed. To Mrs. Morgan, it did seem as though there was a
slight improvement in the habits of the motherless girl. Her looks and
dress were decidedly better. Her hair had been shortened, and showed
a disposition to curl. She was required to brush it carefully several
times in a day. Her face, hands and neck, were examined thoroughly by
her aunt before she was allowed to leave her room in the morning, and
her cousin's influence had made her more thoughtful concerning her
dress.

Since the first evening of her arrival, she had never eaten at the
table with her uncle, though. Unless they had company, she took her
dinners with her aunt and cousins, Mr. Morgan being absent in the
city. She had taken daily lessons, and not without some effect, in
the handling of her knife and fork, keeping her elbows off the table,
keeping her lips closed while eating, waiting until the food was passed
her by a servant, asking when she wished anything, instead of making
a dive at it. When she had cured herself of these uncouth habits,
and learned to eat like a lady, instead of like a dog, she had been
promised the reward of going to the table with her uncle.

At first, Milly said she'd rather not eat with him; it would be a great
deal jollier to sit down with Hannah and Phebe in the kitchen. She
wished she could go there; but when day after day she was sent from
the room, and heard outside the pleasant talk, and the merry peals of
laughter from Emily, she changed her mind, and really tried to do as
her aunt wished.



CHAPTER VI.

MILLY'S REQUEST.

WE have left Mrs. Morgan and her cousin a long time, and must now
return to them.

When they were seated at their sewing, Mrs. Roby said: "I have been
wishing to ask you about Milly. What a very strange child she is! It is
a perfect fascination to watch her."

"Yes, one never knows what she will do next. She has always been
governed by her own impulses, good or bad. I am glad to say many of
them are good. She is capable of the warmest attachments. I never knew
until lately, how much she loves Emily. The poor child fell a short
distance from home, as they were going together of an errand, and
sprained her ancle. Milly actually tried to lift her cousin and bring
her home; but finding she had not strength, she rushed back in her
furious way, crying as though her heart was broken, to tell me Emily
was hurt. Then, when Emily fainted, I thought Milly would faint too,
she was so terrified for fear her cousin would die. I had to take her
up stairs, and leave her with Hannah for a time. When I had bathed and
bandaged Emily's ancle, I went to Milly, who was sobbing bitterly."

"'Oh, Aunt Priscilla, I wish it had been my ancle! Emily's so good and
kind. Oh, dear! I'm so sorry I've vexed her so many times, I never,
never will again. I'll let her things alone. Will she get well, aunty?
Will she? Oh, I'd rather go back to India! Things are always happening
here to make me ache,' putting both hands to her heart."

"I improved the opportunity while her feelings were tender, to talk
with her about herself. I told her we were all growing to love her very
dearly; and that, when she tried to be good and polite and tidy, it
made Emily and all of us very happy."

"She fixed her keen, black eyes on me as she asked:"

"'Truly, truly, Aunt Priscilla, are you beginning not to be tired of me
and thinking me a bother, with my things thrown all about?'"

"Truly, truly, I am beginning to like to have you here, and to be able
to say, Milly is improving every week."

She covered her face with her hands, and laughed till she shook all
over, when suddenly she spoke again.

"'But I never can be like Emily; never in this world.'"

"Why not, Milly?"

"'Because she is a real Christian. When I struck her once, she did not
get angry. She said:'"

"'Oh, Cousin Milly!' And then she went in her own room, and locked the
door. I listened at the keyhole, for I heard her talking; and I thought
she was telling you of my badness. But, oh dear!—beginning to sob
again, 'she was telling God that I was a poor, motherless girl, and
that the Hindoo ayah's hadn't taught me any better; and then she asked
God to forgive me. Isn't that being real, truly good?'"

"It is indeed, my dear child; and then I kissed her. But here they
come."

Mrs. Morgan smiled as she glanced through the window. The cousins
walked side by side, engaged in animated conversation, Emily at the
time being the chief speaker. Milly's hat was, as usual, hanging by the
elastic on the back of her neck; and her hair was in wild confusion.

"You will see," said mamma softly, "that Emily will coax her cousin to
the chamber, and make her presentable, before she comes to the parlor."

And so it was, but they had business in hand, and Milly never was
patient under delay. They came down stairs together, talking in subdued
tones, when the ladies heard Milly say:

"Uncle George has come home; and I'm going to ask him now."

"Oh, would you, so quick? He's always tired at first."

"Yes, I am," in Milly's decided voice, "I hate waiting for things."

So into the library Milly went, while Emily sat on the stairs in the
hall, waiting and blushing with eagerness.

Mr. Morgan had just entered the library. Seeing his niece with nicely
brushed hair, and clean muslin apron, he smiled so pleasantly, that she
plunged into her subject at once.

"Oh, Uncle George! I want to talk to you a few minutes."

"I'm quite at your service, Miss Milly," he answered, throwing himself
upon the lounge, as was his habit after his walk, "but where is Emily?"

"She's somewhere; but Uncle George, would it cost a great deal of money
to go to the shore? Emily and I want to go awfully. It's a secret and
you must be sure not to tell Aunt Priscilla."

"Indeed, why is she to be kept in the dark?"

"Won't you tell truly, truly, if I whisper something?"

"No, I promise to keep your secret."

[Illustration: "Oh, Uncle George! I want to talk to you a few minutes."]

She put her mouth close to his ear, "Emily says Aunty's birthday is
coming pretty soon, and she says I'm not so bad as I was, and I'm
trying hard to be good. See how smooth my hair is and my clean apron
on. I like her ever so much now; and I put my things in the drawers. I
mean, I do when I don't forget; and then Emily reminds me. So I want to
make Aunt Priscilla a present; and I know how to do mosses, the woman
on board ship showed me; and that's the reason we want to go to the
shore."

Milly stopped to recover breath, and then went on, eager to explain:

"Aunt Priscilla can go with us, of course; because Emily and I can pick
the moss while she isn't seeing us, and then I can do them at home for
her birthday."

Mr. Morgan smiled pleasantly.

"There, I knew you would. I'll go and call Emily. She said I might ask
you, 'cause it's going to be my present."

"When do you wish to go, Miss Milly?"

The child laughed merrily; and then in her impulsive way began to kiss
him, eyes, nose and mouth. "When your eye twinkles, I love you dearly,
Uncle George."

"There, Milly, you looked just like your mother when you said that; and
so for her sake, and because of your smooth hair, and your clean apron,
and your attempts to be neat, I will take you to-morrow afternoon, if
it is pleasant."

Milly jumped a foot from the floor, laughing and clapping her hands,
in great glee. Then, she ran out to communicate the good news to her
Cousin Emily.



CHAPTER VII.

GRANDMA'S ARRIVAL.

UNFORTUNATELY, the next day was rainy. And the following, Mrs. Morgan's
mother arrived, and they could not leave her.

Milly's patience was nearly exhausted when the second disappointment
came. She knew nothing about this grandma, and could not sympathize
with Emily's joy at seeing her once more. Grandmother Morgan was very
feeble and often irritable. Milly had never become attached to one who
was always lamenting that Ida's child should be exactly like a Hindoo
girl, and finding fault with her for not doing things that the poor,
neglected Milly had never heard of.

Grandma Harris was fatigued with her journey, and lay down for an hour
keeping hold of Emily's soft hand all the time, even when she fell into
a short doze. But she came from her chamber quite refreshed, and gave
a willing consent that Milly should come and hear the story she had
promised to tell.

Everybody said, Grandma Harris was a great story-teller. It was certain
that when she was at her daughter's, she had a great many stories
to tell. She had heard all about the motherless child, and heartily
approved of Priscilla's intention to befriend her. Now, when Emily
urged that her cousin should be invited to join them and listen to the
story, the old lady smilingly consented.

Milly never in all her after life forgot that interview. Grandma was
sitting in her favorite chair, a deep seated maroon-covered one without
arms; a narrow fold of delicate gauze framing her beautiful silvery
hair. Her dress was black silk, the rich, heavy folds lying on the
carpet by her side, the waist open and turned back at the neck to show
the snowy muslin kerchief folded across her bosom.

At first, Milly saw nothing of all this, except as a part of the
beautiful picture. She only saw the kind eyes, and the welcoming smile.

"You must be my granddaughter too, my dear, and give me a kiss," she
said, taking the child's hand and patting it softly. "Say, will you be
my little girl as Emily is?"

Milly's face expressed great emotion. It was a very tell-tale face.
Now it looked pleased and penitent, and astonished by turns. At last,
trying to wink back a tear which the loving words brought to her eyes,
she answered softly:

"I'm not good enough. Emily can tell you what a bad girl I am; and when
everybody is so kind, too."

"Indeed, Emily has told me nothing of the kind. She says you're her own
darling cousin,—that she loves you dearly,—and that you are trying so
hard to be good."

"Yes, I do try sometimes. I mean, when I think of it. But I'm not nice
and clean like Emily. Aunty has a great deal of trouble with me, though
my bed looks real smooth to-day, and all my clothes are hung up."

"That is very cheering. Emily tells me you wish to go back to India.
It will be very pleasant to your father to have a neat, thorough
housekeeper."

Milly's face crimsoned. "Not till I'm grown up," she exclaimed eagerly.
"I can't leave Emily for a good while yet."

"I suppose the Hindoos are not very neat."

"Oh, no! I never thought about it till I came here; but the bungalows
are awfully dirty. The people have to bathe in the water tanks made for
them. That is one of their laws; but they are filthy after all."

"That is true," said grandma, "of all people who do not have the Bible
to guide them. One of the first changes which the poor heathen make
when they learn about God our heavenly Father, and his Son our Saviour,
is cleanliness."

Milly started up and clasped her hands, her eyes shining like stars.

"I know it I know it! One of our women went to the sahibs, that means
missionaries, and learned to read the Bible. Everybody said she was
better than before. She always wore such clean sarrees, that's the kind
of dress Hindoo women have. I used to wear them, too. And she kept her
hair smooth. I never thought though about its being the Bible that made
her so much nicer."

"Yes, Milly, that is always the effect of true godliness."



CHAPTER VIII.

THE MISSIONARIES.

"SHALL I tell you a story about an Indian girl, who lived this side of
the Rocky Mountains?"

"Is that near Calcutta, ma'am?"

"No, it is our own country. She belonged to a tribe called Cherokees,
and her name was Iwassee."

"Until some good missionaries went to her tribe to tell them about the
great God who made the sun and moon, the boundless forests and the
swift running rivers, Iwassee knew nothing what would become of her
soul when her body was tied up in a tree for the birds to pick the
flesh from the bones. She lived in a kind of tent without glass, with
a hole in the top to let out the smoke when they kindled a fire on the
heap of stones inside."

"Her parents had no money; but her father used to go out to the forest
with his bow and arrows, and bring home some wild fowl or a deer on his
back. Her dresses, when it was cold enough for her to wear dresses,
were made from the bark of trees. On her feet, she wore moccasins of
deer skin. In the winter, her mother worked moccasins with wampum or
bead-work, to be sold to visitors."

"Iwassee, as she grew older, helped her mother to tan the skins of
the bears, wolves and deer, which her father killed. These skins were
their beds and seats. They were thrown on the floor or ground inside
the tent. Iwassee herself, her father, mother and all her tribe were
savages. They lived from day to day only to eat, sleep and carouse.
They knew nothing of the pleasures which Christians enjoy. They
quarrelled, stole from each other, told lies to cover their guilt, and
broke every one of God's commands. They were filthy, too, filthy in
their own persons, in their dress, in their food, and in their tents.
They thought it quite too much trouble to wash their clothes often, or
to keep their tents in order."

"Their arrows were hung in a quiver near their bows, on a peg in their
tents. The kettle they cooked their venison in, was hung there too,
unwashed from month to month. They would have thought it very foolish
to sweep out the floor of the tents, about which the vermin were
running, or to have washed and cleansed their own bodies. They much
preferred, when their work was done, to lounge on the grass in the sun
and think of nothing."

"Poor Iwassee lived year after year in this way, until the
missionaries, I spoke of, went to the tribe. It was a terrible trial
for the wife, who had been brought up so delicately, to settle down in
the midst of such pollution. Even the touch of the filthy women and
girls, whose soiled garments were alive with vermin, was dreadful.
Nothing but their love to Jesus Christ, and their desire to tell these
poor heathen about him could have induced this intelligent Christian
lady to remain there a day."

"But this love was so strong, they were glad to obey his command to
preach the gospel of salvation to every creature. The missionary put
up his tent in the wilderness, and then called the people together to
talk to them in their own language about God. Iwassee was one of the
first who went to hear the talk. When she learned of the love of Jesus
Christ for poor sinners, tears of joy ran down her swarthy cheeks.
Her heart began to swell with love and gratitude to him. She could
not leave the spot. She went to the missionaries' tent early and late
to beg them to tell her more; and when Mrs. Johnson assured her that
Christ was waiting to be her friend, she threw herself on the ground in
a transport of joy. She was the first of the tribe who accepted Jesus
as her Saviour; but she was not the last; for the labors of the good
missionaries were greatly blessed."

"When Iwassee had once felt her need of pardon and had found her
Saviour, she did not stop there. She saw how comfortably the tent of
the Christians looked; what a contrast to the filth and confusion in
her father's. She told the Missionary's wife her trouble, and the
lady encouraged her to strive after cleanliness, as one of the first
of Christian virtues. She opened the book which contains God's word
and read: 'Wo to her that is filthy!' She told her that everywhere in
the Bible, sin and uncleanliness are named together, while order and
cleanliness follow holiness."

"Iwassee listened and remembered. The next time she went to the
Missionaries' tent, she looked so different, that the lady scarcely
knew her. She had always been in the habit, like other women of her
tribe, of oiling her face with bear's or other grease, and staining
her nails. Now she had bathed in the stream which ran through the
settlement, and in the best manner she could, had made herself tidy."

"This was very cheering to Mrs. Johnson. She took courage to talk with
other women of the tribe. In two or three years, there was a wonderful
change. Many of the men and women had become earnest Christians, and
took the Bible for their guide. It was of course very hard for them to
give up their old habits; but when they found that God requires it,
when Mrs. Johnson read to them such passages as these: 'Then will I
sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean; from all your
filthiness and all your idols will I cleanse you;' they did make great
efforts to be clean. If any stranger visited the tribe, and walked
along by the tents, it was not necessary to tell him:"

"'Here lives a man who has become a Christian.' He could see that
for himself. Everything about the small home looked thriving and
attractive. The tents were better too. Sometimes a log hut had been
made, set in a small garden. Sometimes too, there were bright-colored
blossoms before the doors. When the people assembled on the Sabbath
either under a tree or a large tent, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson no longer
shrank from their touch. They were clean and dressed according to their
fashion, in neat garments."



CHAPTER IX.

ORDER FROM CONFUSION.

"So you are at your old business of telling stories, grandma,"
exclaimed Mr. Morgan.

Milly caught the old lady's hand, kissed it, and ran from the room.

After half an hour, her aunt found her in a grand hurly burly of
clearing up. Her cheeks were brilliant with excitement as she cried out:

"Oh, Aunt Priscilla! I'm going to make my room look as nice as Emily's.
I never knew before that only the heathen were so disorderly. That's
the reason Emily is so neat, and has her drawers all fixed up, because
she is so very good a Christian."

"But, Milly, it will take a day at least to restore your clothes to
their places. Why did you not arrange one drawer, or one shelf at a
time?"

"Because," answered Milly, her eyes sparkling, "I wanted to do it
quick. Do you think when I'm done, Emily's grandma will look at it?"

"Yes, indeed, it was her story, then, that suggested such a grand
overturn?"

"Yes, aunty; and I'm going to try real hard to keep my things in order."

"That's right, dear. Did grandma repeat to you this verse? 'Let all
things be done decently and in order?'"

"I didn't hear it. I wish the Hindoos knew about the Bible. They're
awful; but I didn't think about its being bad, till I came here. When I
go back, I shall tell them what God says."

"Milly, Milly, where are you?"

It was Emily's voice in the hall. Naturally amiable and affectionate,
she had become greatly attached to her cousin, whose ardent, impulsive
nature, and stronger traits harmonized well with her gentler ones.

Mrs. Morgan with a glance of dismay around the chamber into which one
could scarcely find a standing place, was just returning to the parlor,
when she stopped to see what Emily would say to all this confusion.

"Why, Milly Lewis! What are you doing?" exclaimed the little girl,
holding up her hands in surprise.

"I'm fixing my room up," answered Milly, coloring at Emily's tone.

"Don't you want me to help you? But I forgot, Papa's going to take us
to ride, I came to call you."

"Oh, dear! What shall I do? I'm sorry I began to be neat to-day."

"Come and ride," suggested Emily, "then I'll help you put away your
things."

"Well, I will."

"You must make yourself look nicely, you know," urged Emily, archly.
"Where's your brush?"

"I don't believe anything is anywhere," was the mournful reply. "I laid
my sack down; but I can't find it, nor my hat either."

"Emily! Milly! Come, now, if you're going with me," called papa from
below.

Milly flew about throwing the clothes with which the chairs were
covered upon the floor.

"Oh, that is not the way to find anything! Where did you see your sack
last?"

"Milly," said her aunt, coming to her aid, "I will give you your choice
to go to ride and leave your room in this confusion, or to stay at home
and take a lesson from me in order."

"I want to go with Emily," began the child. Then with a face full of
resolution, she added:

"No, Aunt Priscilla, I'll stay at home."

"That's a dear child," said her aunt, kissing her. "Now run and carry
this shawl to grandma to tuck around her, and then we'll go to work in
earnest."

"Now," added the lady, when Milly returned, "We will make a beginning
by hanging all the dresses in the closet. After this, remember that
it is not a good way to turn closets and drawers inside out. Take one
thing at a time; or what is better yet, keep everything in place so
that there is no need of such an overturn."

"I must put all the skirts in the closets, too," exclaimed Milly. "Oh,
here's my lost sack! Where shall I hang that?"

"Fix upon one hook and always hang it there. Then you will not be in
danger of losing a drive, because you can't find it."

"I'll keep it on this one, because it's low, and my thick sack can go
on the next hook."

"Here are two shelves, Milly. I would take the upper one for my school
hat, and the lower for shoes. There, the closet begins to look in
order. Run to Hannah for her hand brush and pan. The bits of paper must
be swept up."



CHAPTER X.

MILLY'S CHAMBER.

"OH, Aunt Priscilla! You're so kind to help me. Doesn't it look
beautifully? What shall we do next?"

Mrs. Morgan paused and looked around her. They had made a beginning;
but it was only a beginning. Every article was taken from the drawers;
the books from the rack were tumbled over the floor.

"Why did you take down the books, my dear?" she asked mildly.

"I saw Emily dusting hers this morning, so I—"

"But you did not see her throw down the volumes in this way. You should
take down two or three at a time, dust them and then put them back.
You'll remember after this."

"Yes, indeed, Aunty."

"Perhaps we had better do the drawers first; and then we can have space
to walk around. But what is this? Crumbs?"

"I put my cake there, the day my head ached; and then I forgot it."

"Oh, what a pity! See how it has soiled this pretty ribbon. I wouldn't
bring cake up stairs. Hannah will take care of any such thing for you."

"I won't do it again. I'm going to be real good. Do you think, Aunt
Priscilla, that I can be as good us Emily?"

"In what particular do you mean?"

"Why, as good a Christian. If I was, I'd be neat and kind as she is, of
course."

"I hope, Milly, that you already love the Saviour. You know he came
to wash and cleanse us from all sin. If you pray to him to help you
conquer all your bad habits, he will do it. He always helps those who
try to obey his commands; and you are trying now to do all things
'decently and in order.' You must remember that Emily has been taught
to be neat from her babyhood."

"And I had nobody to tell me about anything good," exclaimed the child,
with a burst of feeling.

"God our Father knows all that. He never expects from us more than we
can do. While you were ignorant of the duty of cleanliness and order,
he was not displeased with you for being untidy."

"But now he will be. But what if I forget?"

"No doubt you will occasionally; but every day your habit of neatness
will be strengthening until it will never occur to you to throw your
hat on one chair, your sack on the hall table, and your books somewhere
else. You will hang your sack on this hook, put your hat on the shelf,
and your books in the place I gave you for them."

"Oh, aunty! There's the door-bell. I do hope nobody will call to see
you; but I could go on by myself now; at any rate I'd 'try, try again,'
as the verse says."

"Mrs. Lang to see you, ma'am," said Hannah, opening the door.

Mrs. Morgan looked as though she was sorry; but Milly insisted that she
could do the rest.

"Finish one drawer at a time then," said her aunt. "Find all the
articles that go in it, and then take another."

"I'll sweep up your room for you," said Hannah, kindly. "There'll be a
good many scraps about."

"Thank you, Hannah," and Milly began to sing at the top of her voice
one of her favorite songs:

     "Flowers, wild wood flowers."

At length, the upper drawer is in order. The child stands and gazes
into it with pride.

"It looks just like Emily's," she murmurs. "Now, if I can only keep it
so; but it is so hard when I am in a hurry, to stop and put back the
things. I'll lock it till Emily comes. I'll ask her to bring grandma in
here. Oh, what a nice grandma she is! What good stories she tells. Oh,
here is the Chinese puzzle, Uncle George gave me!"

On the floor, she drops to put together the pieces of the game. Five,
ten, fifteen minutes fly quickly away; but she is so absorbed in making
squares and oblongs and parallelograms out of the smooth, ivory pieces,
that she knows nothing about the time.

"Are you ready for me?" asks Hannah, coming in with a broom and dust
pan. "Why, Milly, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Hannah." The child's tone was humble, and her countenance
expressed such real regret that the girl could not scold, as at first
she felt inclined to do.

"I've done one drawer, and it looks real nice; but then I found my
puzzle, and I forgot. I'll fix the rest just as quick as I can."

"Well," said Hannah, "you ought not to have stopped to play till your
work was done; but it can't be helped now. You just bring me all the
under clothes, and I'll fold them for you. Seems to me I wouldn't toss
everything about so again."

"No, I never shall. I'm beginning to be neat, now. Grandma has been
telling us a story about it. You know the Hindoos and the Indians, and
everybody who don't have the Bible, are filthy. The Bible says so," she
added, earnestly, seeing Hannah smile. "And just as soon as they begin
to be good, they clean their houses and wash themselves, and make their
hair smooth. I knew a girl who did so in Calcutta. Her name was Waroo.
She used to worship an idol. It was a little brass thing. She kept it
hung on the wall. After she learned of the missionaries about God, she
threw away her idol; and then she began to look real nice. Her sarree
was clean; and her face washed. Papa asked her what had come over her,
and she said 'I'm trying to be like the missionaries and worship their
God.'"



CHAPTER XI.

A DRIVE TO THE BEACH.

By the time Mr. Morgan, grandma, Cousin Mary and Emily, returned from
their drive, Milly's room looked as neat as possible. Hannah seemed
almost as pleased as Milly; and when the little girl, in an ecstasy of
delight kissed her thanks, she said, encouragingly:

"It's a picture to see. If I were you, I'd keep it just so."

To complete her pleasure, grandma and Mrs. Roby came in, on their
way to their own chambers, and praised the little girl for her own
self-denial in staying to arrange her room rather than to go out for a
drive.

Every drawer and shelf were opened for inspection, and received great
praise.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, Mr. Morgan, after a roguish
glance at Milly, said:

"This afternoon, I propose to take you all to the seashore. We must
have dinner at twelve, so that we may have time enough for a ramble on
the beach."

"Can we all go in one carriage?" asked mamma.

"I will provide seats enough," Uncle George answered, adding in
a mysterious tone, "If there are any persons here who have been
housecleaning of late, those persons are especially invited."

"I know who you mean, papa," said Emily, laughing. "You mean Milly."

"I mean any little girl who is trying hard to correct her faults."

Milly's face crimsoned with pleasure, while her poor little heart
fluttered and beat fast with love to everybody.

"It's a beautiful world to live in," she said to herself, running to
bring her uncle's daily paper from the door, "and God is just as good
to me as he can be."

During the forenoon, Mrs. Ward, a relative of Mrs. Morgan, called to
see grandma, who was a kind of aunt to her.

"We have been anticipating a visit to the beach for a long time," she
said, when she heard of the contemplated drive. "I'll go directly to my
husband's office, and ask him to go this afternoon. Why can't we have a
fish chowder on the beach?"

"We can. I'll go at once, and tell cook to pack whatever will be
necessary."

"I'll carry a hamper of crackers, cake and coffee, with milk for the
children. Ernest will be crazy with delight, when I tell him. We'll
meet at Ruggles street, where we turn off for the beach. Whoever
gets there first will wait for the other. By the way, I'll send over
directly, if William can't go; but I hope he can. Good-by, till
afternoon."

Everything turned out in the most satisfactory manner. Mr. Ward
declared himself delighted with the project, said it was just the day
for the shore and for chowder. The hampers were packed, not forgetting
a great iron pot and the potato-cutter. On reaching Ruggles street, Mr.
Morgan saw Mr. Ward looking out of a carriage which contained his wife,
his sister, and his three children.

Mr. Ward called out as he turned his horses out of the street, "We've
only been here five minutes. All right. Drive on."

When, after a delightful ride, the party came in sight of the ocean,
with the foamy billows, rolling up, and breaking on the sand, Milly
could not restrain her delight. She laughed and clapped her hands
exclaiming:

"I love you, good old ocean!"

Emily, who was much less enthusiastic, gazed at her cousin with some
surprise, asking, at last:

"Why do you love it, Milly?"

"Because it's so blue and so beautiful. Oh you don't know at all by
seeing it now, how the water looks at sea! The waves are as high as
mountains, and instead of looking quiet and blue like this, it is dark
green. The ship goes up and down this way. You couldn't help loving the
sea, if you had sailed on it as long as I have."

"Uncle George," whispered the happy child, catching him by the coat
as he was helping her out last of all, "I've got a basket for mosses.
Please, don't tell anybody when you see me picking them."



CHAPTER XII.

MILLY'S ESCAPE.

THE person to be thought of first of all was grandma, who was an old
lady, and not very strong. Mrs. Morgan proposed that she should have
a room in the public house close by the beach, and lie down while the
gentlemen caught fish, and others made ready for the famous chowder.
But she said the salt air strengthened her; and she wished to breathe
all she could of it.

So, instead of having the horses taken out at the stable, Uncle George
drove down to a great rock close by the high water mark, and then had
the hostler unharness and lead the horses back.

Mr. Ward thought this a capital idea, and did the same. Then, with the
cushions of both carriages, they made a most comfortable lounge on the
back seat, where grandma could lie and watch everything that was going
on.

Mr. Morgan and Mr. Ward then took their fish tackle, and started off
for the rocks to catch rock perch, while the ladies unpacked the
baskets, and the children gathered stones into a heap to set the kettle
on, and plenty of sticks for the fire.

All were amused to watch Milly, running here and there in search of
a stone of the right size, then tugging it toward the pile, her eyes
shining, her checks rosy, her hat off, and her hair streaming behind
her.

At last, the small chimney, as Ernest called it, was built. And Milly
took her basket and wandered off in search of bright mosses; leaving
Emily and Ernest to gather sticks to make the pot boil.

The other children being too young to run round by themselves, played
around the carriages, or gathered stones and shells within their reach.
Emily and Ernest wandered here and there till they were almost out of
sight of the great rock near which the carriages stood. They had each
gathered an armful of broken pieces and were about to return with them
for the fire, when Ernest threw his down and kneeled upon the sand,
calling out to Emily to come and see what he had found.

There, on the smooth, silvery beach, lay a large, round,
slippery-looking creature, basking itself in the sun. Earnest did not
know what it was; but by the description, his father afterwards told
him, it was called a jelly fish. It was a disgusting creature; but the
boy didn't care for that. He took one of his sticks, and punched it;
and then, as it did not stir, he told Emily it was dead. When they had
examined it as long as they wished, and Emily had filled her pocket
with smooth, bright stones, Ernest picked up his sticks again, and they
went back to the rock.

"Where is Milly?" inquired Mrs. Morgan.

[Illustration: "He took one of his sticks, and punched it."]

"I thought she would be back here by this time," answered Emily. "She
did not go with us."

"Which way did she go?"

"Round the other side of the rock."

The lady looked very anxious. "I'm afraid she will be lost," she said.
"Some of us must go and look for her."

Cousin Mary Roby, and also Mrs. Ward's sister Jennette, at once
volunteered to make the search. So taking the sun umbrellas, they
started off in the direction Emily had seen her cousin go.

But neither in this, nor in any other direction, could they find her.
They inquired of children coming and going, if they had seen a little
girl with a basket; but no one had noticed her. At last, they were
obliged to return without any intelligence of the wanderer.

"What shall we do?" exclaimed her aunt, in real distress. "It was very
wrong of her to go out of sight."

"Oh, mamma! Don't say so," urged Emily. "I'm sure she didn't mean to do
wrong."

"Did you call her name, Mary?"

"We tried to; but the roaring of the water quite drowned our feeble
voices."

"I must go at once," said Mrs. Morgan, taking a broad rimmed hat from
the carriage. "I do wish George would come."

Just at this moment, there was a loud shout from behind the rock.

"Emily! Emily!"

"Oh, that's Milly!" screamed her cousin. "I'm so very glad."

"So am I," added her mother. "I was really alarmed."

"Why, what have you been doing!" exclaimed Emily, as she caught sight
of her cousin whose clothes were dripping with wet; but whose face was
beaming with delight.

"I was almost drowned," said Milly calmly. "But I've got some beauties.
Look here!"

She held up her basket, lifting two or three bright red pieces of moss.

"But, Milly, you'll take cold with those wet clothes. Come right to
mamma."

"Well, I will, if you'll put this under Uncle George's seat. Don't let
any body see you. I'll show them to you when we get home."

Poor Milly was indeed a sight to behold. She had lost the ribbon that
tied back her hair. And by constantly putting up her wet hands to
push the locks from her face, she had covered her forehead with sand;
her boots were saturated with water, and her skirts dripped with wet.
Nobody seemed to know what to do with her, till grandma proposed to
take off her wet garments, wrap her in a shawl, and let her stay in the
carriage till her clothes dried, which they would in a few minutes, if
hung in the hot sun.

Lying on the seat beside grandma, with the roaring of the billows to
lull her, Milly's tender heart was at rest.

She told the old lady that she jumped on a rock to look at the waves,
and staid there so long that the water came up all around her. At
first, she thought it would go away again; but it came up higher and
higher, until it covered her feet on the rock.

"How did you feel?" asked grandma, greatly moved. "Were you afraid?"

"I was at first, but not after I asked God to take care of me. He knows
I've been trying to be good. Then I thought of Emily; and I felt awful
bad when I said 'I shall never see her again.' So I shut my eyes, and
jumped right into the water, and a great wave came and pushed me right
up on the beach. Wasn't God real good to answer my prayer so quick? It
makes me love him dearly, dearly."

"He was indeed, my dear child, I hope you will never forget it."

"No, ma'am, I never shall. When I go back to India, I shall tell my
father. I know he'll be glad, too. I mean to go as soon as I can, so
as to tell the poor Hindoos about God. When they know how to read the
Bible they'll learn to be neat, you know."