"Yes: you know 'birds of a feather flock together,'" said Maggie.
"What does that mean?" asked Bessie.
"Why," answered Maggie, slowly, as she considered how she might make one of her favorite proverbs fit the occasion, "it means – well – it means – that a foolish mother is apt to have a foolish child, and things of that kind. Do you understand, Bessie?"
"Oh, yes!" said Bessie, looking at her sister with admiring pride: "you always make every thing plain to understand, Maggie. Don't she, Belle?"
"Yes," said Belle: "she's an excellent explainer. And, Maggie, do you know I told papa what nice things you said about being sunbeams, and told him those verses you made; and, oh! didn't he think it was splendid?"
"I don't believe Mabel is much of a sunbeam to her people," said Bessie. "I'm 'fraid her mother don't teach her to be."
"No, indeed, I guess she isn't!" said Belle; "and I wouldn't want to be a sunbeam to her."
"But our Father in Heaven makes His sun to shine on the evil and on the good," said Mrs. Bradford, softly. "Does not my little Belle want to copy Him?"
Just the words her father had used yesterday when she was talking with him on this very subject. They set Belle thinking; and she walked more quietly on towards the house, trying to make up her mind if she could "be a sunbeam" to such a disagreeable child as the one she had just seen.
She had not quite decided when they reached Mrs. Bradford's door, and there for the time her thoughts were taken up with her play and playmates.
But Mrs. Bradford was rather amused when, one of the dolls being supposed to have behaved badly, Belle was overheard to say, —
"This child must be punished severely, she is so very nervous."
III.
AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE
The "public rejoicing" had not nearly come to an end, when, at a much earlier hour than she was accustomed to go home, Belle saw Daphne entering the play-room. Daphne's turbaned head was thrown back, and her lips pursed up in a manner which showed Belle that she was not pleased with something or some one. But whatever might be the cause of the old nurse's displeasure, Belle knew well enough that it would never be visited on her; and Daphne's appearance just at the moment when she was so delightfully engaged did not suit her at all.
"You haven't come to take me home a'ready?" she said.
"But I has, honey: more's de shame," said Daphne, with a look of mingled pity and affection at her little mistress, while a chorus of exclamations arose from all the children.
"I shan't go, now! It's too early," said Belle. "Why, it isn't near dark, Daphne. Did papa send you?"
"S'pose he tinks he did," replied Daphne; "but I specs dere's a new missis come to han', what tinks she's goin' to turn de worl' upside down. 'Pears like it."
"What?" said Belle, not understanding such mysterious hints, yet seeing something was wrong; and Mrs. Bradford asked, "What are you talking about, Daphne?"
"I'se been bidden to hol' my tongue, and I neber talks if I ain't got leave," answered Daphne, with another toss of her turban and several displeased sniffs.
"But you're talking now, only we don't know what it's about," said Bessie.
To this Daphne made no answer, except by closing her eyes in a resigned manner, and giving a sigh which seemed to come from her very shoes.
"I shan't go home, anyhow," said Belle: "the party isn't near out."
"Not when papa wants you, dear?" said Mrs. Bradford, gently.
Belle gave a sigh which sounded like the echo of Daphne's; but she made no farther objection when her nurse brought her hat and prepared to put it on. Daphne clapped on the hat, giving a snap to the elastic which fastened it that really hurt the child, though she was far from intending to do so. Then she seized her in both arms and gave her a loud, sounding kiss.
"You just 'member you allus got yer ole mammy, whatever else you loses, my honey," she said. By this time not only little Belle and the other children, but Mrs. Bradford also, thought something dreadful must have happened; although the latter did know that Daphne was sometimes foolish, and very apt to make a mountain out of a molehill.
"What's the matter? Where's my papa?" said Belle, in a frightened tone. "Is he lost?"
"He's safe to de hotel, dear," said Daphne. She never condescended to say home: "home" was far away, down on the dear old Georgia plantation. "He's safe to de hotel; that is, if somebody ain't worrit de eyes out his head or de head off his shoulders. You come along, Miss Belle, 'fore all yer tings is gone to rack an' ruin."
"What is the matter, Daphne?" said Mrs. Bradford.
"I telled yer, missis, I ain't got leave for talk; an' I neber breaks orders, no way. But I'se been forgetten: dere's a letter what Massa Powers send you;" and diving into the depths of her enormous pocket, Daphne produced a note which she handed to Mrs. Bradford. The lady opened and read it; while Belle watched her, fearing some evil. But Mrs. Bradford smiled and looked rather pleased, and said to Belle, —
"It is all right, darling: run home now; papa has a great pleasure for you."
It would be impossible to express the length and depth of the sniff with which Daphne heard this; but Belle did not notice it, and was now rather in haste to say good-by and to go to her papa.
"I wouldn't say any thing more if I were you, Daphne," said Mrs. Bradford, following them out to the head of the stairs.
"Dear! I ain't said nothin', Missis," said Daphne: "didn't her pa forbid it? on'y some folks is so blin'."
"Who's blind? Not papa?" said Belle.
"It am a kin' of sperit blin'ness I'se speakin' ob, honey," said Daphne. "Talk ob spilin' chillen, indeed! Dere's some what's so bad by natur', you couldn't make 'em no wuss if you tried all de days ob yer life."
With which she disappeared, banging the front door after Belle and herself with a force which told that she was anxious for some object on which she might safely vent her displeasure.
Belle talked and questioned all the way home, but received for answer only the same mysterious and alarming hints; till the child hardly knew whether to believe that something dreadful had taken place, or that she was going home to the promised pleasure.
"Now, Miss Belle," said the foolish old woman, as they crossed the hall on which Mr. Powers' rooms opened, "you min' I ain't goin' for let you be snubbed and kep' under. You come and tell yer ole mammy ebery ting; an' I'll fight yer battles, if de French nusses is got sich fly-a-way caps on der heads."
So she opened the door of their own parlor; and Belle, feeling a little worried and a little cross at the interruption to her afternoon's pleasure, passed in.
What did she see?
Upon the sofa, beside her papa, sat a lady dressed in deep mourning; and upon his knee – was it possible? – yes, upon papa's knee, in her own proper place, was a little girl, quite at her ease, and sitting as if she had a right and belonged there. And – could it be? – Belle took a second look – it really was the child who had been so naughty and shown herself so spoiled. She stood for a moment near the door, utterly amazed, and speechless with displeasure.
Now Belle was what is called a generous child; that is, she would readily give away or share what she had with others; but she was jealous of the affection of those she loved, especially of her papa's. He was her own, her very own: all his tenderness and petting must be for her. She could hardly bear that he should caress even her beloved Maggie and Bessie; and if it chanced that he did so, she would immediately claim a double portion for herself. She was quick and bright too; and now she saw in a moment the cause of all Daphne's mysterious hints and melancholy; and they helped to increase the angry, jealous feeling in her own heart. Daphne had feared that this naughty, contrary child was coming to interfere with her; and Belle feared it now herself. Indeed, was