THE TEA-PARTY

THREE o'clock on Thursday afternoon found all Miss Ackerman's class assembled in her mother's beautiful drawing-room, opening with a wide, long window on the veranda and commanding such a fine view of the river. All the girls were present, even to North Flynn. Mrs. Barnard had not only spared her, but she had given her a pretty dark-blue frock trimmed at the wrists and neck with white ruffles, that North might not feel awkwardly at being more poorly dressed than her classmates. Norah was a pretty girl, in the finest style of Irish prettiness, with black curling hair, long black lashes, very dark gray-blue eyes, and a clear, fine-grained skin. And as she came in bright and sparkling with pleasure, and shook hands with Mrs. and Miss Ackerman, Julia could not but allow that Norah looked and behaved as much like a lady as any girl in the room.

"How pretty she looks!" whispered Ida, thinking with a little regret of her own freckles.

"Pretty enough!" answered Julia with a toss of her head. "I suppose Mrs. Barnard has given her one of Jenny's old dresses."

"'Deed, then, you're mistaken, then, for 'tis a brand-new dress it is, that Mrs. Barnard bought for me in the city with her own hands, and Bessy Melville made it. So there, Miss Julia!" laughed Norah, her eyes dancing with mischief and looking prettier than ever. Julia bit her lip with anger.

"But if it had been Jenny's old dress made-over, I am sure Norah would not have minded wearing it," said Ida. "I'm sure I wear made-over dresses lots of times."

"Not I," answered Norah. "I'd be proud to wear anything that Miss Jenny had touched, let alone worn; but I can never get the chance. As soon as she has done with her dresses, she rips them up and cleans them, and lays them away smooth and nice to send to some poor lady she knows that has a hantle of little ones. Many's the time I've helped her with them. Oh, 'tis just an angel she is, too good for this world; and I'm thinking she won't be here long." And a tear glittered in Norah's bright eyes.

"I hope dear Miss Jenny may be spared to us many years yet," said Miss Ackerman kindly; "but you know, Norah, that our loss would be a great gain to her. She would change her cross for a crown of glory."

"And that's true, Miss, but I'm that selfish I can't feel to spare her yet." And Norah's ready tears overflowed.

"You are my dear girl," said Miss Ackerman, kissing her, "but don't borrow trouble. Miss Jenny may outlive us all yet."

"What a fuss they do make over her!" thought Julia. "I think Mrs. Barnard might at least have made her wear an apron."
"Well, are we all assembled?" asked Miss Ackerman, looking round: "Where is Eunice Riker? Oh, here she comes."

Eunice was the most plainly, not to say poorly, dressed of all the girls. Her brown linen suit had faded and shrunk, as linen suits will in time, even with the most careful washing, and her frills had evidently been done up a great many times. She was not at all a handsome girl, either; her features were too large and old for her years, and her complexion was not very good. But her eyes were bright and clear, and her somewhat large mouth firm and good-tempered; and people who noticed her said, "That girl will make a fine-looking woman by and by." She excused herself for being late with straightforward directness.

"Mother had just finished doing up some white frocks for Mrs. Edgar's little girls, and she was so tired I went to take them home for her; and then Mrs. Edgar kept me waiting a little while."

"Oh, how stupid I was!" exclaimed Mary Edgar, who was a member of the class. "Sister told me to stop and say that she would call for the things this evening; and I forgot it. What a shame it was, to make you take all that long walk for nothing! Sister will scold me, and serve me right."

"Oh, it wasn't any matter," answered Eunice, smiling brightly. "I liked the walk, and your sister lent me two nice books."

"Well, you are good-natured!" said Mary. "If any one had served me so, I should be just hopping."

"Eunice does not get 'hopping,' as you call it so easily as some of us, I fancy," remarked Miss Ackerman.—"But now we are all here, girls, we will proceed to business.—Percy, are you and Amity ready with your budget?"

"Yes, Cousin Margaret," answered a voice from the inner room; and presently Percy Denham and Amity Bogardus appeared, carrying a large work-basket between them.

Those of my young friends who have read the "Round Spring" books will remember Percy Denham. She was the orphan daughter of an army officer, and since her parent's death, she had made her home partly with her aunt, Miss Devine, who lived at Bridgeport, and partly with her other aunt, Mrs. Ackerman, a very rich widow lady who had a fine house in New York and another at Rockdale. But now Miss Devine was dead, and Percy had come to live altogether with Mrs. Ackerman. Her health was rather delicate, and she was a good deal worn with taking care of her aunt. And Mrs. Ackerman, who loved the country at all seasons much better than the city, had made Percy's health an excuse for letting her town-house and establishing herself permanently at Rockdale. Percy had shot up into a tall, handsome young lady, as slender and graceful as a weeping birch, with dusky velvety hair and a clear olive skin—a great contrast to Amity, with her straw-colored hair and freckles, and no figure at all.

"Well, young ladies, we are ready to hear what you have to say," said Miss Margaret.

"Will you make the speech, Percy, or shall I?" asked Amity.

"Oh, you make it; I haven't any gift at all in that line."

"Well, then, the matter is this," said Amity. "You all know that the ladies of the church are preparing to send a box to the family of the Rev. Mr. Swift, a missionary among both Indians and white people in Dakota Territory. Mr. Swift has a wife, and five children of various ages, from a young lady sixteen years old down to a baby of six months. One of his daughters, about twelve years old, has received the present of a scholarship in a good school for young ladies. But she has no clothes—none, at least, suitable for such a place—and the young ladies' Bible-class propose to furnish her with a wardrobe. Our class will provide the materials, and we thought, as Cousin Margaret's class came next in rank, we would ask them to help us with the sewing. Percy, Emma Andrews, and myself have been appointed a committee to prepare the work and to distribute it, as well as to consult with your class on the subject. We have done the first, and are now ready to do the second. There! I have made my speech; I hope I have explained the matter decently."

"Mr. Webster could not have spoken more to the purpose," answered Miss Margaret; "only you have left one point unexplained. Where is Emma?" "Mrs. Andrews has a sick headache, and Emma could not leave her. If there are any more questions, I shall be happy to answer them to the best of my ability."

"What is the little girl's name?" asked Ida.

"Her name is Ethelind Swift," replied Amity—"Ethelind Amelia Swift, to give it in full."

"What a fine name!" said Julia, sneering as usual.

"Well, names are a cheap luxury, you know. I dare say she was named after some one."

"What clothes does she need?" asked Eunice, business-like as usual.

"Everything, I should say. Mrs. Swift says in her letter:

"'My husband has been serving two parishes, besides looking after his Indians, on a salary of less than five hundred dollars a year. We have had a great deal of sickness, and I am stating a simple truth when I say that I have not bought one yard of new cotton or flannel in six years. I had to cut up the flannel sheets my mother gave me when I was married to make undershirts for my husband and a petticoat for myself.'" This is no exaggeration: I wish it were.

"What a perfect shame!" said Mary Edgar. "Why doesn't the Board pay them better, so that they can have decent clothes?"

"Because the Board has not the money, my dear. The Board, you must remember, is not a perennial spring. It is a cistern which can only give out what is put into it."

"Well, I say it is a shame, anyhow. Only last week I coaxed papa into buying me one of those twelve-dollar dolls, and a trunk for her that cost four more."

"How silly of you!" remarked Jane Williams, who had not spoken before. "A great girl like you giving such a price for a doll! You might have got a lovely seal-ring for the money." "And what good would that do when aunt would not let me wear it? I love dolls, and I don't see why they are any sillier than rings and such things; do you, Miss Margaret?"

"We won't discuss that deep question just now, my dear. Let us hear what more our committee have to tell us.—What is your plan, young ladies?"

"Now it is your turn, Percy."

"Our plan is this," said Percy, taking from the basket two neat bundles of cotton cloths and holding up one in each hand. "We have cut out and prepared from four to six articles of each kind, and pinned up each article in a parcel by itself. We propose that you shall each take one or more of these articles, make it as well as possible, and return it to us. When all are received, we will have them done up and marked with the young lady's name. They must be finished by the twenty-fifth of October, as we wish the box to reach Mr. Swift's family before cold weather comes."

"But isn't your class going to do any of the work except to cut it and give it out?" asked Julia. "I should think that was getting off pretty easily, for my part."

"In the first place, our class contributed the money," replied Percy, quite unruffled by Julia's tone, which was sufficiently rude. "Secondly, we have undertaken all the dresses and outside garments generally; and, thirdly, if you think, Julia, that it is 'getting off easily' to cut out and fit thirty garments, contriving to make the very most of the cloth, and then tie up every garment in a bundle by itself, with all the pieces belonging to it, why then you had better try it, that's all," said Percy, finishing up her speech with a sudden emphasis which set the girls laughing.

"I should think as much," said Eunice. "Mother often says cutting out is the hardest work she does."

"Who asked your opinion, I wonder?" muttered Julia.

"And the dresses will be harder to make than anything," said Ida, always ready to give credit to other people.

"How silly you are, Ida! Of course they won't make them themselves."

"I think we shall, at least a good deal of them," said Amity. "Aunt Julia says we may have Bessy Melville for a day or two if we need her. She will cut out the things, and we shall sew with her. That is Aunt Julia's contribution." "I am sure it is a very nice one," observed Eunice; "and it will help Bessy too."

"Exactly so.—Now, who will take a bundle or two?"

"I will," said Julia; "I can get mine done, I know."

"Very well; here is a night-gown. The pieces are all fitted, and your mother will help you, I dare say, if you are in any trouble.—Who comes next?"

"I do," answered Ida.

But she had hardly spoken when Julia exclaimed, "Well I shouldn't think you would want to, Ida. You will never get it done in time. How many pieces of work have you begun already?" Ida colored scarlet, and the tears stood in her eyes. "You should not speak in that way to your cousin, Julia," said Miss Ackerman gravely. "That is very unkind."

"It is nothing but the truth, anyway," persisted Julia. "I heard her mother tell her the same thing this very morning; and she has ever so many pieces in hand. There is her lace and—"

"We will dispense with the catalogue," said Miss Margaret. "What you say may be true, but the truth should be spoken in love. When it is used to hurt and mortify a companion, it is not acceptable either to heaven or earth. Besides, you are in no way responsible for your cousin.—Don't cry, Ida, my dear."

"Well, I won't," said Ida, fighting bravely with her sobs. "I know that I am not very persevering, and that I do begin things and leave them unfinished; but I mean to try and do better."

"'Better' is 'he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city,'" said Percy. "Here is a chemise for you. Now show that you can persevere and finish a thing as well as any one." "I will try," said Ida; and she meant what she said.

One after another the girls came forward and took their parcels, till all were provided with work except Norah and Eunice.

"I'd like to take a bundle, but I think I had better ask Mrs. Barnard first," said Norah. "She pays for my time, you see, and so I can't give it away without asking her."

"Very right Norah. You can ask Mrs. Barnard, and if she makes no objection, you can come up to our house and I will give you something."

"I am afraid I can't take any sewing to do just now," said Eunice, her pale cheek flushing scarlet as she spoke. "You know mother takes in sewing, and I have to help her. But I will wash and iron some of the things when they are made, if that will be any help."

"Indeed it will," said Amity. "We all know how beautifully you and your mother do up clothes."

"And I have been thinking of another thing," continued Eunice modestly. "I don't sew in the evening, because the doctor says it is bad for my eyes; but I can knit very fast, and if I had some nice yarn, I would knit some stockings for Ethelind."

"Capital, Eunice!" exclaimed Amity. "I don't believe any one has thought of stockings; I'm sure I didn't. If we can raise some more money, you shall have the yarn."

"I will see to that," said Mrs. Ackerman, a sweet little old lady who had been a silent but interested looker-on.—"Percy dear, will you ask Drusilla for my knitting-basket?" The basket was brought, and Mrs. Ackerman produced three large skeins of beautiful crimson yarn.

"I got this to knit for some of the orphans," said she, "but I can easily buy more when I am ready; and this is just the thing to knit for your little girl. When it is used up, come to me and I will provide some more."

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Ackerman; how kind you are!" said Eunice, feeling far more grateful than if the yarn had been given to herself. It had cost her a great deal to refuse the sewing, and now here was work provided to her hand. "And if there should be any yarn left, I might make some socks for the baby."

"Very true," said Miss Margaret. "And now that every one is provided with work, let all the bundles be put away, and let us improve this beautiful afternoon by a walk in the garden."

The afternoon passed away pleasantly. The girls rambled about the extensive grounds, looked at the pictures and other beautiful and curious things with which the house was filled, and played various games.

Ida had quite gotten over her annoyance at Julia's unkind remark. She had made a fine resolution to finish her sewing in good time, and she was (unluckily for herself) one of those people whose consciences are quite satisfied for the time being with making resolutions. She was naturally kind-hearted, and was very well-bred besides; and this afternoon she devoted herself specially to those of the girls who had lately joined the class or who, from seldom meeting their classmates except in Sunday-school, were almost strangers to each other. She was particularly attentive to Eunice Riker, whom she had long known and liked, and to Matilda Jenkins, whose mother had but lately come to Rockdale, and who knew hardly anybody.

Eunice responded cordially and pleasantly, as she always did. She had very little self-consciousness, and therefore was neither shy nor awkward. Matilda, on the contrary, was very still and silent, and could not be got to say anything but "yes" and "no."

Julia did not enjoy herself at all. She was vexed at Ida for not being angry—at Miss Ackerman for taking her part, and for taking so much notice of "that little Irish girl," Norah Flynn, and "that washerwoman's daughter," Eunice Riker, while she, Julia Hazleton, was treated "just as if she were nobody." She was all the more unhappy because she really did love Miss Ackerman very much. The trouble was, she did not want Miss Ackerman to love any one else. She could have endured it better, she thought, if Miss Ackerman's favorite had been Mary Edgar or Anita Ferarra, but to be set aside for Eunice Riker! It was too bad! The truth was, that Miss Ackerman made no favorites. She aimed to treat all her class exactly alike. She liked Julia for her perseverance and industry, and tried to love her as well as she did Ida Van Zandt or Norah Flynn; but I fear she was not very lovable.

On the whole, Miss Ackerman's little party was successful. There will always be some people dissatisfied, however, take as much pains as one will. "Well, what kind of a time did you have?" asked Mrs. Jenkins of Matilda when she came home.

"Oh, just as I expected. Of course all those rich girls felt above me, just as I knew they would. That Ida Van Zandt and two or three others tried to patronize me, but I soon let them know I wasn't going to have that, and that I felt myself as good as any of them, if I did live in a small house."

"That's right," said her mother; "hold up your head, and don't lay yourself down for folks to walk over you."

"Some folks do, though," remarked Matilda. "There is that Eunice Riker. She had on an old faded linen dress and looked like a scarecrow, but all the girls took notice of her, and she took it as sweet as honey."

"She knows what she is about," said Mrs. Jenkins. "I dare say she gets plenty out of those Ackermans."

"Oh, mother, I have had such a lovely time!" was Eunice's comment. "Every one was so kind and polite to me! I do think almost all our girls are just as sweet as they can be. I am going to knit some stockings for my share of the box, and Miss Percy Denham says she will lend me her knitting-book with all sorts of pretty stitches."

"What box?" asked her mother, smiling. "You are beginning your story in the middle, as usual." "Oh, I forgot you did not know about it." And Eunice gave an account of Mrs. Swift and her needs, and displayed her red yarn. "Wasn't it kind in Mrs. Ackerman, mother?"

"Very kind and thoughtful indeed, and I am glad you have such pretty knitting.

"I am rather sorry you gave those chemises to Ida Van Zandt," said Amity to Percy as they were looking over the list of work given out after the girls had gone. "I am afraid she will never have them done in time."

"Why, is she that sort of girl?"

"Just exactly 'that sort of girl.'"

"Well, I thought her very sweet and lovely."

"So she is," answered Amity warmly; "I never saw a lovelier disposition. How gently she answered when Julia made that attack on her! But she has a way of beginning a great many things and never finishing any of them."

"We must try to keep her up to the mark," said Percy. "I dare say we shall have a good many pieces to finish up. I wish we had set the middle instead of the last of October for the work to be brought in."

"So do I, but it cannot be helped now. I will try to keep an eye on Ida's work myself. She is a kind of cousin of mine, you know."

"What name is this, Amity?"

"Matilda Jenkins. They are new-comers in the place, and I don't know much about them. The poor girl seemed very shy and awkward, but I dare say she will appear better when she becomes better acquainted."