Ida's New Shoes, by Madeline Leslie—A Project Gutenberg eBook

"He that ruleth his spirit, is better
than he that taketh a city."—SOLOMON

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by

REV. A. R. BAKER,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of
Massachusetts.

THESE SMALL VOLUMES ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,

WITH THE EARNEST PRAYER

THAT THEIR LIVES MAY PROVE THEM TO BE LAMBS IN THE FOLD

OF THE GREAT AND GOOD

CHAPTER I.

Little Ida danced up and down, holding back the skirt of her dress to display the present papa had brought her.

"Very pretty," said Aunt Mary. "I hope my little niece will never let them carry her into mischief."

"No, indeed, aunty! I'm going to be a real good girl now. See how softly I can step in them."

And she went on tiptoe to the door of the bedroom, where her mother was confined with an attack of nervous headache.

Mrs. Kent's head was bandaged tightly with a wet towel, the room being darkened, in the hope she would be able to drop to sleep.

She wanted her mamma to see how nicely her foot looked in the new boot. She was so quick in her motions, that before Aunt Mary knew what she was about, she had pushed a cricket to the side of the bed, and jumped up, boots and all.

"O Ida! What are you doing?" exclaimed the lady, with a groan. "I was just falling asleep. Jump right off the bed, dear; you jar my head dreadfully."

"Ida Kent, come out of that room this minute!" said Aunt Mary. "Your ma is very sick; and you'll make her worse with your noise."

"No, I won't! I'll make her better. I'm going to comb your hair, mamma. You said I might."

Mrs. Kent groaned again. "Do take her away, Mary. I shall die with this dreadful pain. If I could be quiet one hour, I think I should be better."

"I won't go! I won't!" screamed the naughty child, at the top of her voice, clinging at the same time to the bedpost.

"Go this minute, Ida," said her mother, holding her throbbing head between her hands. "And Mary, take off those new shoes. She mustn't wear them till she can behave better."

The naughty girl gave a scream of passion, and was carried out of the room by Aunt Mary, who was obliged to hold her hands to keep her from scratching anywhere she could reach.

Mamma tried to shut her ears, but no, she could hear the loud, angry screams, until Aunt Mary closed the doors in a distant chamber.

Even then, her head throbbed painfully, as she readily imagined the naughty conduct of her little girl.

"What shall I do with her?" she kept saying to herself. "How can I help her conquer her hasty temper? So affectionate one moment, so passionate the next."

Toward night, Mrs. Kent's pain was relieved. She was able to sit up in bed and take a cup of gruel. Nothing could exceed Ida's fond attention. She ran softly to the entry for a shawl, then upstairs for another pillow, and afterwards sat in a chair, her curly head resting on the bed, her forefinger in her mouth, looking as placid and happy as if no cries of passion had ever distorted her features.

Mrs. Kent was greatly refreshed by the gruel. She sat up in bed long enough for Aunt Mary to smooth her tangled hair, and then lay down, saying—

Presently she put her hand softly on Ida's cheek. "You're a good girl now," she said. "You're mamma's comfort."

Ida caught her mother's hand and kissed it, then went to sucking her finger again.

By and by papa came home, and rocked his little girl in his arms until the tea-bell rang.

"The sky seems remarkably clear to-night," he said to his sister Mary, after a glance at Ida.

"Yes," she said, smiling; "a storm generally clears the sky; and there has been a terrible one to-day."

"In the direction of the s-h-o-e-s." Aunt Mary spelled the word so that Ida need not understand.

The little girl sat in a high chair by the side of her father, diligently engaged in eating her bread and milk.

"There were never such storms in his day," remarked Aunt Mary, glancing kindly in the face of her favorite nephew.

"Please, aunty, give Ida some cake!" asked the little girl, holding out her plate.

"We have a nice young lady at table this evening," remarked Mr. Kent. "I would to have her come here to tea every night."

"I'm going to be good all the time now," said Ida, smiling in her father's face.

CHAPTER II.

IDA KENT was a very handsome child. Her face was round and fair, her eyes deep-blue, her mouth small and rosy, and her hair rippled and curled all over her head. This was a great affliction to Ida; for, as it hung in ringlets over her neck, it took a long time in the morning to comb out the snarls.

Mrs. Kent, too, used to dread the job; and was always happy when it was completed without arousing Ida's temper. Many a time she had threatened to cut off the curls; but her husband would not consent. He felt very proud of them, and could not be made to believe that the child would be better without them.

Mamma used to get a bowl of water, a towel to pin around Ida's neck, the comb and brush all ready before she called the little girl; and then she tried to amuse her by telling some funny stories.

A few mornings after Mrs. Kent's sickness, Ida sat in her mother's lap, and all was going on beautifully, when an unlucky snarl caught in the comb, giving it quite a pull.

"If you do that again, I'll whip you, naughty mamma!" she cried, her face growing very red and angry.

"Stop, Ida! You mustn't talk so; it's wicked," said Mrs. Kent, holding the child's hands. "You know mamma didn't mean to pull; but I shall have to punish you with a rod, if you strike me, or talk so; it is very wicked."

"I won't have my hair done any more!" screamed the naughty girl, kicking with all her might.

"Ida!" called out her father from the next room. "Stop that! Do you know, child, whom you are talking to?"

Berty came in at this minute, and Mrs. Kent took advantage of this opportunity while her attention was engaged to finish the curls.

In a few moments she had forgotten all about her trouble. She came up to kiss papa, her mouth looking as sweet as a ripe cherry, and then went dancing about the room as happy as happy could be.

When her brother had led her to the parlor, Mrs. Kent said with a sigh, "That is the way she acts more than half the time while I am curling her hair. I have tried whipping, and coaxing, and everything I can think of. Her passion grows worse every day."

"I have always hoped she would outgrow it," answered Mr. Kent; "but I see something must be done."

"If you'll tell me what, I'll thank you," murmured the mother in a discouraged tone.

The next week a lady called to see Aunt Mary. Ida was playing quietly with some blocks in the corner of the room, when the visitor caught a glimpse of her.

Ida obeyed, walked slowly across the floor, and glanced shyly in the lady's face from under her curls.

"Don't touch the lady's bonnet," said Aunt Mary, seeing that her friend began to look annoyed at having her flowers pulled out of place.

"I will! I will!" And Ida gave a rose-bud a sudden jerk which left it in her hand.

The lady put her upon the floor; and Aunt Mary was so mortified that she caught her up and carried her screaming from the room.

"I am sorry, for your sake, I spoke to the child," apologized the visitor; "but she looked so smiling I never thought of her having such a temper."

"I never saw such a passionate girl," murmured Aunt Mary, looking as if she were going to cry, "I always feel as if an avalanche were hanging over my head. Sometimes she's as sweet and loving as a June rose; and, in a moment, her temper is beyond control."

"It is difficult to know what to do with one of her disposition. Both my brother and his wife are very solicitous concerning her. I wonder often at my sister's patience. She has tried whipping and shutting her in a room by herself; but nothing seems to have any lasting effect. I really think half the cause of Mrs. Kent's nervous headaches may be from anxiety about Ida. Yesterday she tried a new plan—she led the child into her bedroom, and, without taking the least notice of her screams and struggles, began to pray for herself and her little girl."

"Very quieting. My brother feared it was only the novelty, but sister was encouraged to try it again."

CHAPTER III.

"I'm good now, mamma; I don't kick any." And Ida looked the picture of self-complacence.

"Yes, dear, no one can be better than you, when you try; but I am sorry to say you don't always try. Do you know the good God in the sky looks down upon you then, and is very much displeased?"

Mrs. Kent sighed. "Because," she answered, "I am afraid, if my little girl does not try to correct her naughty temper, that God will punish her. I ask him to forgive you, and help you do right; and then ask him to give me strength to govern you according to his will."

"I won't never be naughty again, mamma; I'm going to be your good little Ida all the time now."

"Dear child, if I could believe that, a heavy burden would be lifted off my heart."

It was scarcely half an hour later that Berty came in from school eating an orange which a companion had given him.

"I would, mamma; but the juice is all sucked out. See Ida, it's nothing but skin."

"I want an orange! I will have an orange!" began the little girl, kicking and screaming with all her strength.

Mrs. Kent put her handkerchief to her face. The disappointment was too bitter. Ida had seemed so penitent, she had really hoped her heart was touched, and would not show such temper again.

Ida stopped kicking; stood for a moment irresolute; then she ran and laid her head in her mother's lap.

"I'm sorry, mamma; I don't want an orange now. Take away your handkerchief. See, I'm a good girl."

Mrs. Kent gazed in the child's face. It was beaming with the new delight of having conquered. She took Ida in her arms; pressing her to her heart.

"You have made mamma very happy," she said, kissing her again and again. "Now I know you do mean to try and conquer those wicked passions. Berty, go to the store, darling, and buy the largest orange you call find. Buy two large ones. We must have them cut up for supper; and Ida shall sprinkle sugar on them and help us all herself from the glass dish. I want papa and Aunt Mary and nurse to know that my dear little girl is determined to be good; that she has begun already to conquer herself."

I wish you could have seen Ida. She danced about the room, kissing mamma ever so many times, and kept running to the window to see whether Berty was coming.

Mrs. Kent looked as happy as her little girl. "Oh, if this will only last!" she said to herself. And then she lifted her heart in prayer to her heavenly Father, beseeching him to put good thoughts into Ida's mind.

When tea was on the table, mamma brought forward the nice dish of orange, and put it before Ida's plate. Then she took the bowl from the tray and said—

"There, love, you may sprinkle on the sugar now. You have been very patient while I cut the oranges."

Ida took the sugar-spoon and began her work. She did not smile. She looked very solemn as if she felt the importance of the trust.

"O papa!" Ida was so excited she sprang almost out of her chair. "I'm going to help the oranges to you and everybody. I've began to be good, and mamma won't have to pray for me any more."

"You have, indeed, arrived at a state of perfection, if that is no longer necessary," replied Mr. Rent, with a smile; "but I want to hear all the particulars of so important a change."

"Mamma will tell you about it. Oh, I'm so good!" and her eyes sparkled with happiness.

"Papa would like best to hear it from his little girl," said mamma, kissing her. "Then we will sit down to tea, and you may help us to your oranges."

"You know," said Berty, "you began to kick and scream because you wanted my orange."

"Yes, papa; and I saw mamma crying behind her handkerchief; and I didn't kick any more. I said right off I'd be good; and then mamma hugged me awfully. Now may I help to the orange?"

"Wait a minute, dear, till papa has thanked the good God for helping his little girl do right."

Papa kissed her with a tear twinkling in his eye. After he had asked God's blessing on the food, Ida began her pleasant task, passing each a few pieces of the fruit and laughing gayly as Aunt Mary, Berty, and papa said, "Thank you, Miss Kent."

CHAPTER IV.

ONE fine morning, about a month after this, Mr. Kent drove to the door with a carriage and span of horses. Mamma, Aunt Mary, Berty, and Ida were all ready for him; so they jumped in at once. The horses pranced and danced a little before they started off; but soon they grew sober and trotted along at the rate of eight miles an hour.

I suppose you will want to know whether Ida had persevered in being good all this time. I am glad to be able to tell you that she had really improved. To be sure she had forgotten herself a good many times, and began to say, "I will," or "I won't," "You shall," or "You sha'n't," to her mamma and Aunt Mary; but they all knew that she was trying very hard to correct her great fault, and to be a good little girl.

They were going now to visit Grandmother Kent, who was an excellent old lady, and who lived in the same house with one of her married daughters, Mrs. Amanda Mason.

This lady had three children, two daughters, and a son who was near Ida's age. None of the family had seen little Joseph since he was a baby; but Aunt Mary knew, from her mother's letters, that he had a temper worse, if possible, than Ida's had ever been.

It was a long ride from Mr. Kent's home to his mother's; and though they started at seven o'clock in the morning, they did not reach the end of their journey till night.

Grandma was expecting them, and sat, arrayed in her new cap, by the window which overlooked the road.

Minnie and Susan ran out to meet their cousins, but Josey was bashful and kept close to his mother's side.

"Go and kiss Ida," said Mrs. Mason, trying to push him forward. "Kiss her. She's a pretty little girl, and I want you to be good friends."

"I won't either! She isn't a bit pretty, and I don't like her," said Josey, his mouth drawn down into an ugly pout.

Mrs. Kent could scarcely help smiling when she saw with what a gaze of horror Ida regarded her cousin; while Aunt Mary whispered to her brother—

"She'll be ashamed to show any of her tantrums here when she sees how they make Joseph look."

Supper was all ready for the weary travellers. As soon as they could take off their outer garments and wash the dust from their faces, they drew around the table.

Josey usually sat in a high chair; but now his mother had put a large book into a common chair to raise him. When he saw Ida sitting in his, he caught hold of the back and jerked it so rudely that he almost threw her to the floor.

Mr. Mason caught the child and shook him till he could not stand. Then calling the servant, in a loud, angry tone, he said—

All this time Ida was anxiously watched by her parents. They both expected that she would resent the affront and begin to scream with passion. But to their surprise, she seemed more grieved than angry. Her lip quivered, and she clung to her mamma, trying to hide her eyes in the lady's dress.

"I don't love Josey," the little girl exclaimed, as Mrs. Kent was putting her to bed an hour later.

Ida hid her face and began to cry, not angry tears. "I won't do so any more," she said, softly.

"No, my darling. I am so glad you are trying to improve. You saw nurse carry off Joseph. He couldn't have the pleasure of eating supper with us."

"Yes, I saw his father carry him a bowl of bread and milk. He was pounding against the door when his father opened it. I don't suppose Joseph imagines how ugly he looks when he is in a passion; and I'm afraid he don't think how such conduct displeases God."

"Yes, God certainly will unless he repents, and tries to conquer his passion, as you are trying to do."

CHAPTER V.

AFTER a pleasant evening spent in conversation with Grandma Kent and Mr. and Mrs. Mason, they were just about retiring, when Mrs. Mason said, with a sigh—

"This is the only time when I can take the least comfort. Joseph is so hasty in temper, and when he is roused, is so furious, that I live in constant dread of an outbreak."

Mrs. Kent glanced toward her sister Mary, as if she would say, "How well I can sympathize with her!"

"I tell my wife," began Mr. Mason, his voice growing angry at the thought of his unruly boy, "that his passion must be checked, or it will render him a maniac. Whip him till he will submit."

"I doubt whether whipping is always the best remedy," suggested Mrs. Kent, mildly.

"You would think differently if you had such a child as Joseph to manage. Why, he's so strong in his fits of passion, that Amanda can do nothing with him. If I'm away, she just lets him thrash about till he's tired."

"Have you ever tried praying with him?" inquired Mary. "I've known that to work wonders."

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Mr. Mason. "One might as well pray to the wind. That's just like an old maid."

"Mary has had a good deal of experience with children," said Mrs. Kent, firmly, "though she is but little past twenty years old. She has a natural tact in getting along with them."

"Well, she has my consent to pray over Joseph as much as she pleases. Suppose you begin to-night, while he is asleep;" and Mr. Mason laughed again.

Grandma had remained quiet through the whole conversation; now she pressed Mrs. Kent's hand, as an intimation to say no more. So, with many cordial "goodnights," they parted.

Mary occupied a bed with her mother, and took the earliest opportunity, in the morning, to talk with her brother about it.

"There is nothing," she said, "but a board partition between her room and that where the children sleep, so that she is kept awake, by their quarrels, till a late hour; and then Joseph begins to snarl as soon as it is light. I can see that the conduct of that boy is wearing her out, though when I said a word, she only shook her head."

"I should think so, when the whole house is hers. Before we go, I want something to be done about it."

The visit of her children and grandchildren seemed to revive the old lady, who had been rather feeble for a year. Especially she took delight in talking with Berty, or hearing him read. The little fellow loved his grandma, and embraced every opportunity to be attentive, though his little cousins often laughed at him, and teased him to leave her and join them in their play.

Ida, too, loved to wait on grandma, to bring her glasses, and place a cricket for her feet. One day she greatly amused them all by gathering a bouquet of dandelions, which she insisted were "pretty flowers," and putting them in a tumbler by grandma's plate.

On this occasion Ida, for the first time during her visit, showed something of her old temper. She was very sensitive to ridicule, and when her cousins, and even their mother laughed at her bouquet, she threw herself on the floor, kicking and screaming with passion.

Without a word Mrs. Kent arose, took Ida firmly by the hand, and led her to her own chamber. Before they reached it, the child began to be ashamed.

Ida instantly kneeled down and asked God to please forgive her, and help her not to forgot any more.

It was scarcely ten minutes from the time they left the room till they returned, the child talking gayly about some dandelion curls her mother had promised to show her how to make.

"I don't see how you can govern your temper so," began Mrs. Mason, when the children had gone out to play.

"Of what use is it to try and govern our children, if we cannot control ourselves?" asked the lady, with a smile.

"If you had Joseph to deal with, you'd find it different. Why, I should consider it almost a miracle if he'd give up as easy as Ida did just now. Well, everybody has their trials; I suppose having unruly children is to be mine."

"It will be a trial, indeed, if they are not taught to control themselves while young. Every year makes them more stubborn, and the lesson more difficult."

"I'm not fond of children as Mary is," said the mother, sighing. "Sometimes I think we don't manage ours right; but it's hard to know what to do."

"Mr. Mason, you know; isn't a praying man," she said, trying to hide her emotion by a laugh, "and I've given up trying with Joseph long ago."

CHAPTER VI.

When the children ran in to see her, she always received them with a smile; but Berty noticed that she threw a towel over something she had in her lap. It was near the close of the week of their visit before he found out what she was doing; and then it came out that she had made a beautiful ball for him and a doll for Ida.

I think Aunt Mary had been in the secret; for Rosa, as the dolly was called, had a full suit, which the child could take off and put on, and a nice night-gown for her to wear to bed.

Perhaps you can imagine Ida's delight when she saw it. To be sure she had at home a porcelain doll, with a thin gauze dress; but this was nothing compared with Miss Rosa, who could boast a mantilla, bonnet, and pocket handkerchief. Rosa had a tiny apron, too, with a pocket in it; and what do you think was in the pocket?

Why, a little bit of a note, scarcely larger than a bean. In the note was written, in grandma's own hand—

For the rest of the day Ida went up and down stairs and through the garden, carrying Miss Rosa. Everybody was pleased to see how happy she was with grandma's present.

Did I say everybody? There was one who was not at all pleased. This was her Cousin Joseph. He did not like it that grandma should spend so much time in making presents for Berty and Ida, when, as he said, she had never made him one in her life. This was not true. She had sent to the city for a beautiful picture-book, and had taken pains to line every leaf with linen; but the book had been torn to pieces within a week, and the old lady was quite discouraged from making anything else.

Toward night, Mr. Mason invited his friends to walk to the end of the garden, where he was setting out an orchard of pear-trees. They did so, leaving the children at play in the room with grandma and Aunt Mary.

On their return, Mrs. Kent was quite alarmed at hearing loud screams of anger and distress, above which Mary's voice rose, shouting for help.

The party hurried onward, though Mr. Mason; who had been interrupted in his talk, said angrily—

Mrs. Kent reached the scene first, and saw Berty shielding himself behind a door, his face pale with fright. Ida was sobbing in her grandmother's arms, while Mary, with the assistance of the servant, was holding Joseph in a chair by main force.

"Look at Ida's face; and you will see," answered Mary, half crying. "I believe this wicked boy would have killed her, if we hadn't held him."

"I hate her! I do! I wish she'd go home! I hate Berty, too!" screamed Joseph, struggling to be free.

Grandma sat rocking herself to and fro, tears streaming down her pale face, too much agitated to speak.

Mr. Mason caught a glimpse of the torn face, which was still bleeding. And, only stopping to ask—"Did Joseph do that?"—seized the boy and gave him a blow with his fist, which sent him sprawling on the floor.

"Have you any arnica?" asked Mr. Kent, his mouth growing every moment more stern. "Mary, won't you wet a cloth and lay on the face? I shall send for a physician at once. I fear the eye is seriously injured."

Mrs. Kent held Ida fast in her arms, whispering, tenderly, "My poor darling, mamma will take care of her."

"I was naughty, too, mamma. When he pulled my dolly away, I struck him, and called him ugly boy. I'm sorry now, mamma. Won't Jesus love me any more?"

All were so intent on attending to Ida, and so glad to be relieved from Joseph's noise, that for a time he lay on the floor unheeded. But presently grandma said, sharply—

His father took him up and carried him into the bedroom, where he lay when the doctor drove up to the door.

He looked first at Ida, called it an ugly scratch, thought likely there would be a scar under the eye. The under lid was torn through. For this, he advised cold applications and a darkened room. It would take time, he said, to heal it.

Then he followed Aunt Mary to the bedroom—Mr. Kent carrying his little daughter to his own chamber, where he determined she should stay till they started for home.

When he returned to the sitting-room, all was confusion. Mr. Mason was bringing in a tub for a warm bath, while his wife held Joseph's head, crying as if her heart would break.

"It's just what I always told you," she exclaimed, sobbing. "You've killed him with your heavy blow. Oh, dear! I can't bear it."

"You had better be calm, Mrs. Mason," said the doctor. "There will be a great deal to do for the sick boy."

Seeing that her wild grief rendered her unfit to be of use, Mr. Kent led her from the room, and, assisted by Mary, undressed the boy and put him in the bath, the doctor at the same time trying to force some drops between his closed teeth.

CHAPTER VII.

IN half an hour the boy had come out of the fit, and was lying in an unquiet sleep. Scarcely a sound was heard about the house so lately full of life.

The children sat in the parlor, not daring to raise their voices above a whisper.

Upstairs there was an eager consultation, and then grandma consented to return with her son for a long visit.

They were to start early the next morning; and there was much to be done, besides affording all the aid that was possible to the afflicted parents.

Poor Aunt Mary was so much distracted by the patient suffering of dear little Ida, who, she insisted on declaring, had "behaved like an angel," that her labor of packing grandma's trunks lasted till midnight.

As the old lady was only a boarder in her own house, there was nothing to be done, after her clothes were ready, but to turn the key in the lock of her door. This her daughter did, after removing to the chamber all her mother's treasures lying about the rooms.

The next morning, fortunately, was cloudy; though, as Ida's eyes were shaded by the wet bandages, and she, seated in her mother's lap, was shielded also by her mother's green veil, they hoped she would not suffer from the ride.

"Only let us once get her to our quiet home," exclaimed Aunt Mary, "and I'll be content. Oh, what a visit this has been!"

All through the night and during the early hurried breakfast, Joseph had slept on.

Mrs. Kent crept softly to the room again and again, and bent over the boy. She did not like the flushed face, nor the loud snore which accompanied every breath, nor the feverish pulse.

"I wish," she said to Mrs. Mason, "that the doctor would come before we leave. I should be so much happier to know he was better."

"I thought sleep was the best thing for him," said Mr. Mason, putting his hand on Joseph's head; "but he's too hot. I'm afraid I did give him a harder blow than I thought; but he's the most aggravating child I ever saw."

"I know, brother," said Mrs. Kent, softly, "that you will excuse me if I ask, do you think striking a child in anger, is a good way to cure him of his passionate temper?"

"Sister Kent," he began, eagerly, "I never thought so much about the government of children, in all my life, as I did last night. I lay hours pondering the subject. Four hours by the clock I walked the floor; and I resolved then and there to begin first with the government of myself."

"Thank God!" she murmured, pressing his hands. "Now I can prophesy a happy future for you."

Still Joseph lay tossing restlessly in an unrefreshing slumber, and knew not when his cousin Berty crept in and softly kissed his hand in token of good-by; nor when Ida, carefully wrapped up, was brought down and placed in the carriage; nor when the horses, after dancing up and down, turned their faces willingly toward home. No, he slept through it all; and, when the doctor came soon after, he pronounced his sickness to be brain fever.

CHAPTER VIII.

Poor little Ida slept for several hours, her head sinking more and more heavily on her mother's arm; but the lady would not consent to give up her charge to Aunt Mary, who longed to relieve her.

Then grandma was feeble, and, after riding four or five hours, began to look pale.

When Ida was awake, it required constant exertion to take her attention from herself. From a bottle of arnica and water, Mrs. Kent often renewed the cold applications; and every time she was sorry to see the eye looked more inflamed. But she tried to keep up her spirits, and told all manner of wonderful stories, which amused grandma as well as Ida.

Then papa and Aunt Mary sang a funny song they had learned in their early home; and so the hours passed until Berty called out, joyfully—

Mr. Kent stopped a moment opposite the stable to tell the man to come for the horses, and in a few minutes they drove through their own gate, up the pretty avenue to the front door.

"I want to see! Let me see, mamma. Please do, dear mamma!" said Ida, struggling to pull off her bandages.

The next morning, their own physician came to see the little girl. He said the scratches would soon be well, and he hoped to prevent a scar under the eye. He cut some tiny strips of sticking-plaster, and put on the place where the lid was torn, talking very cheerfully to Ida about a new pup his little boy had bought.

"In a week or two you will be well enough to come and see it," he said, laughing, as he bid her good-by.

The next day the expressman stopped at the door; and there was a beautiful new bedstead, which papa had bought for his little girl. Grandma was to room with Aunt Mary, and Ida to go back to her old place by the side of mamma.

The old lady's trunks came safely by the cars, and, soon after, a letter from Uncle Mason, saying that Joseph had been very dangerously ill; but there was now hope he would recover. The doctor forbade any kind of excitement, and said the greatest care would be necessary to preserve his reason.

"You may think, sister Kent," he added, "that both wife and I have something to think of during these days of sorrow. If Mary should ask me now if I had prayed with Joseph, I could no longer say, 'no;' I have prayed by his couch many, many, times; and I have wept bitter tears, as I have thought of my own want of self-control. How could I expect my son to be different from what he was, while I set him so bad an example! Amanda and I are both resolved, with the help of God, to begin life anew, and, if he spares us our only son, we humbly look to him for strength and wisdom to guide him aright."

"Next year, when you bring mother home, for we cannot spare her longer, I know she will rejoice that we have at last begun to pray morning and night, for the blessing of God on our habitation."

Now, if they could hear that Joseph was entirely out of danger, they would feel happy.

Many a talk did Mrs. Kent and Ida have in her darkened chamber about the sick cousin. Every night, now, the little girl joined Josey's name with her own and Berty's, when imploring God's blessing. One day she remained unusually quiet. At last she said—

"Mamma, I want to write a letter to Josey. I can tell a letter, and you write it down."

Mrs. Kent, curious to know what she would say, brought her portfolio, when Ida began—

"DEAR JOSEY—I stay in a dark room; but I think of a good many things. I am very sorry you are sick. I want to send you some orangeade; but mamma says it couldn't go so far. I'm sorry I struck you, and called you ugly boy. I've asked God a good many times to forgive me, and I think he has. I pray for you every night. I used to be very naughty once; but I'm trying hard to be good now; and mamma says God always helps little children when they try to do right themselves. When you get well, I want you and your mamma and all the family to come and see us; and I'll show you all my playthings; and we'll have fine sport. That's all. From—"

"IDA KENT."

I have only a few more words to say. When Ida got well, she sometimes forgot herself for a moment, and would give way to her old passion; but she was always much ashamed, and never failed to ask God to forgive her once more, for her dear Saviour's sake. Every time she conquered herself, it was easier to do so.

Aunt Mary was no longer afraid to introduce her pet to her friends; and Ida, with Rosa her dolly, became a favorite with all.

In the quiet of her new home, grandma's health returned. Every day she used to walk out about the grounds of her son's pleasant home, and it was a privilege her granddaughter highly prized to accompany her. They conversed together; and her grandmother related to her many incidents of her early life, in which Ida found great delight, and about which her childish curiosity proposed many questions.

After a time, an answer came to Ida's letter, with which I must close my account of this little lamb.

"DEAR COUSIN—I can't write, you know; but pa puts down what I tell him. I am a better boy than I was before you came here. It's awful hard though to keep from screaming when Minnie and Susan won't do as I say; but pa helps me. Every time I conquer myself, he gives me a pretty book, and now I have five. Sometimes I get very red, and I would strike if I could; but pa and ma are so kind, I feel like trying to please them. Pa says this is the way to please God."

"I'm very, very sorry I scratched you so. Will you please to forgive me? I think when I go to see you, we shall be nice friends. Give my love to grandma, and Aunt Mary, and all the rest."

"Pa has bought a magic lantern for me to send to you. He showed us all the pictures. Pa prays with us every day in the parlor, and he's a dear, good pa."

"Your cousin,"
"JOSEPH MASON."

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ida's new shoes

Ida's New Shoes.