THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES abbor of T. NETTIE'S MISSION. " nr datbrr fobjrb art ttt ^tabm, ^allofoto bt tbj) namr." II. LITTLE MARGERY. " tg Jiingbam tomt." III. MARGERY'S CITY HOME. " 8Dbt> ffilUI be bone on (garth as it is in |)eabrn." IV. THE CROSSING-SWEEPER. " (Sibe ns tljis gan ont Ipailg grcab." V. y?6>5F CC>.V^(9F'5 LESSONS. gibc us our Jlcbla as fat forgibc our gltbtors." VI. NED DOLAN'S GARRET. ns not into STrmptation, but btlibe da ftam Rosy Conroy. Frontis. ROSY GoNEors LESSONS. "Jforgibt n3 our Jtbls as fee -iforgtbt our gtbtors. BT JULIA A. MATHEWS, AUTHOR OF THE " DKAYTON-HALL SERIES," BTO. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 530 BROADWAY. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by ROBEUT CARTER AND BROTHERS, Tn the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. CONTENTS. PAQB I. ROSY'S SCHOOL, 9 II. ROSY'S HOME, 27 III. A USELESS PLEA, ... ... 39 IV. REPENTANCE, 49 V. A BITTER GRIEF, 59 VI. ROSY A TRADESWOMAN, .... 71 VII. THE ARMOR BUCKLED on, .... 85 VIII. JOE TURNER'S, 101 IX. THE LOST BROTHER, 117 X. ROSY'S REWABD, 135 622759 I. OSY Conroy stood in the yard, lean- ing upon the pump, and looking down thoughtfully into the pail into which the water ran slowly from the half- turned faucet that she held in her hand. A boy who stood at the open window of the basement had just called out to her, in a rough, loud voice, that she must not splash the stones, adding a rude threat to his com- mand, and Rosy was thinking sorrowfully of a little friend who had lived in that basement only a few months before. But 10 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. the little friend, and the old grandfather with whom she had lived, had both gone home to the " Happy Land," and strangers occupied the low room which Rosy had once so loved to visit. " Oh, I wish Margery was there yet," she said to herself with a sigh, as she leaned over her pail idly watching the trickling stream of water. " Rosy, Rosy, child ! " called a voice from the window above her. " Yes, mother, I'm coming," cried Rosy, and turning on the full force of the water, she filled her pail to the brim, and, lifting it with both hands, went toward the house, splashing the water at every step over her bare feet and ankles. " I'll be out after you if you don't stop spilling that water," called the boy from ROSY'S SCHOOL. 11 the basement " I'm just after cleaning the yard." " The water wont dirty it," panted Rosy, as she struggled up the steps with her heavy burden. She had answered him carelessly, but when, a moment after, she entered her mother's room and set the pail down upon the floor, Mrs. Conroy saw that her eyes were full of tears. "Why, Rosy, dear, what is it, then?" she asked, tenderly, drawing the child to her and wiping her flushed cheek with her apron. " Nothing," said Rosy, tremulously, " only that ugly boy in the basement is so cross ; and I want Margery back there." " And that's the sorrow, is it ? Yes, yes, it's very sore to see them rough folks in the 12 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. old room. But \ve mustn't want Margery back, dear. She's best off where she is, no doubt," and the mother stroked her child's hair lovingly. " Now, Rosy, it's time you were off to the school. Put on your bit of a hood and run away." So Rosy tied on the worsted hood which her mother handed to her, and snatching a kiss from a tiny boy who sat playing on the door, went out again. Just as she reached Broadway, which she must cross in going to school, she saw by the timepiece in a clock-maker's win- dow that it was already nearly nine o'clock, and she went on at a quick pace, almost running, for she had yet some squares to walk. " Take care, Rosy, don't run over me," ROSY'S SCHOOL. 13 said a pleasant voice ; and looking up the little girl saw her Sunday-school teacher. " O Miss Raymond ! " she exclaimed, joyfully, " I never met you in the street be- fore, did I ? " " No, I think not Are you going to school ? " " Yes, ma'am," said Rosy, her face chang- ing. " What is the matter? Don't you love to go?" " Not to this one, Miss Raymond." " What is wrong with this one ? " " It's so noisy ; and the children wont study, and there don't seem to be anything to learn. I wish I could go to a public school. But it is getting late ; I must go on." " I will walk along with you,'' said 14 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. Miss Raymond. " I want to know about this. How is it that there is nothing to learn?" " I can't tell, Miss Raymond. But if you come in with me, maybe you'll know. I don't" "But if you want to go to a public school, Rosy, why don't you go ? " The child glanced down at her bare feet, and her clean, but patched and faded dress. " I couldn't be with nice children when I look so bad as this," she said. " Mother wants me to go too, but we're so poor she can't afford to keep me decent. My brother Will wont work a bit now, and you know my father is blind. He goes about with his dog, selling matches and needles and such things, but he gets very Rosy Conroy. p. 14. BOSY'S SCHOOL. 15 little, and mother can't go out because of the twins. They're only three months old. And then there's Bobbie, he's two years old ; and 'Susy, she's five. So, you see, mother can't go out, if I go to school; and even if she could, she wouldn't earn enough to keep me fit for a good one." " Why do you want to go to a better school so much ? " " I want to learn to be a teacher," said Rosy, eagerly. " If I could, then I'd take such good care of father and mother, and I'd buy clothes for the children, and oh, I\l do everything ! " " Ho .v old are you, Rosy ? " asked the lady, smiling. " Nine, go:ng on ten, ma'am." They had by this time reached Rosy'a destination, and Miss Raymond went in 16 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. with her. She did not wonder that a bright, intelligent child, fond of study, and anxious to learn as much as possible, should long for somethirg different from this, it was already past nine o'clock, but the chil- dren were running and playing about the room while the teacher stood at her desk, faintly commanding silence in a voice which could not be heard at a distance of six feet, in the din and clamor which might almost have drowned a shout. " It is not always like this, Rosy, is it?" asked Miss Raymond. " No, ma'am ; they will sit down pretty soon, I guess. But they will talk all day long. I don't know what ails Miss Macy, but she can't seem to keep them quiet." Misa Raymond could see at a glance, HOST'S SCHOOL. 17 what ailed her. She might have been a good teacher of a well-ordered private class of pupils, but she was a weak, inefficient woman, wholly inadequate to control the turbulent young spirits con- gregated in the industrial school over which she had been placed. " And you don't like all this," said Miss Raymond, looking down at the child, who still stood beside her. " No, ma'am. I like fun as well as any of them ; but it is not right to carry on so here. It's real mean to Miss Macy too. I think it kind of frightens her, poor thing." That decided Miss Raymond. She determined that if it were possible Rosy should have a teacher whom she should 2 10 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. respect too much to call her " pocr thing." " Can you come to see me this af- ternoon, Rosy ? " " Oh, yes, ma'am, I think so," said / the child, her eyes dancing with delight. I'll ask my mother." " Very well. Come, if she can spare you, and we will have a talk about your lessons;" and, after a few minutes conversation with the unhappy teacher, the lady took her leave. The walk to Miss Raymond's house that afternoon was very cold, but Rosy drew her thin shawl closely around her shoulders and trotted on merrily. What mattered it if it were bleak ? Was she not going to hear something about a new school where she might, perhaps, ROSY'S SCHOOL. 19 learn to be a teacher? Cold as she was, her heart was warm and glowing, and she ran on joyously in spite of the piercing wind, and the icy feeling of the pavement against her feet. By and by she reached the house, and rang the bell timidly. " Please, sir, Td like to see Miss Raymond," she said to the man who opened the door. " May I go up to her floor ? " " I will tell her," said the man with an amused look. " What is your name ? " "Rosy, sir." He led her across the hall, and, point- ing to a small iron grating in^the floor, said, " You may sit down by the reg- ister, and warm yourself; but don't put your foot on the iron, it is hot" 20 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. To Rosy's great surprise a soft, warm air was coming up through this hole in the floor. She held her feet over it, and by and by a drowsy feeling began to steal over her ; the heated air was mak- ing her sleepy after her long walk; and when the waiter returned, having been detained to receive a messenger, he found her fast asleep. " I didn't say anything to her, Miss Lily," he said to Miss Raymond, when she came clown five minutes later. " She's taking such pure comfort there." Rosy's head h;id fallen back' against the chair, and her hood had slipped off leaving her flashed face fully exposed. She made a very pretty picture sitting there in the high-backed chair with her hands folded in her hip and her bare fee! hvin^i::-; over the register. HOST'S SCHOOL. 21 " Poor little child, her walk has tired her out." The sound of voices wakened Rosy, and she sprang up, suddenly. " Don't be frightened," said Miss Ray- mond, seeing that she was startled. " You fell asleep over the fire, that i:3 all." " Wont the gentleman be angered at me falling asleep by his stove ? " said Rosy, anxiously. " He told me to wait here while he went to call you. Aint he got a queer little stove, Miss Raymond?" " That is a register, Rosy." " Is it ? I've seen such holes in the street, by the big hotels sometimes, but such a lot of fire comes out of this, don't it? It's real nice. That's a good gentleman. Does he live on this floor?" 22 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " No. This is my father's house, and he wants it all for his own family." " He must be heaping rich," said Rosy, after a moment of surprised si- lence. " Shall I tell you what he means to do with a part of his riches," asked Miss Raymond with a smile. " Yes, ma'am," said Rosy, softly. " He means to buy a dress and a shawl and a pair of shoes for a little girl who wants to go to a public school, and cannot because she has not fitting clothes." " Not for me, Miss Raymond," said Rosy, "it can't be." " But it can be. If your mother is willing that you should go, my father will obtain a place for you, if you will KOSY'S SCHOOL. 23 promise to study hard, and to behave well." " Oh, I'll be just as good, and I'll study ever so ! What shall I say ? It aint half enough to say thank you, is it? I'll always love you just as dear as dear can be ; " and the eager, happy face pressed close to Miss Raymond in the child's delighted excitement. She took it between her hands, as she said, " What put it into your head to want to be a teacher ? " " I don't know ; but I always did want it. Margery Bray used to laugh, and say I was too romping and care- less to be a teacher ; but I mean to be one some of these days, and I used to tell her she'd see. Oh, I wish she was here now! I used to love to have 24 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. her with me in Sunday school, and everywhere." " Don't wish that, Rosy. She is so happy in heaven. She cannot come to us, but we can go to her. Are you trying to follow Margery's Master ? " " Yes, Miss Raymond, I do try. I've tried ever since she died. I think it was her made me love Him. When I was wilh her, it always seemed as if she was happier than me, and I wanted to be like her. I do love the dear Lord Jesus now." " How much do you love him, Rosy ? Would you be ready to give up everything for his sake ? " " Yes, I think so," said Rosy, thought- fully. I hope you would, dear. Now you HOST'S SCHOOL. 25 had better go home again, and I will come down and talk to your mother about the new school. Here are some little cakes for you and the other children." Rosy took the offered bundle with many thanks, and ran off with a light heart to tell her happiness to her mother. II jEVER was there a brighter face than that which Rosy wore as she ran toward home on this cold November afternoon. It was sundown before she left Miss Raymond's house, and the sun, who had hidden himself behind dark gray clouds all the afternoon, concluded to take one little peep at the earth before he went to rest. So he broke through the thick curtains which shrouded his light and shone out radiantly for a few moments. The little girl looked up gladly to wel- come the sweet sunset light, and her face seemed to catch the soft glow which fell all (27) 28 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. around her. It hid itself among her curls, and kindled a new beauty in her sparkling eyes ; and, shining upon her round cheeks, laid there lovingly, as if it could not bear to leave anything so fair and soft. And the child danced on blithely, singing as she went, and weary men and toil-worn women turned and looked after her, thanking God for the sight. She reached her home just in time to catch up little Bob, who had toddled to the door-sill, and stepping over it on his unsteady feet, had fallen and bumped his forehead on the boards. " There, there, never mind," said Rosy, lifting him in her arms, " never mind." And being so often told to " never mind," Robbie concluded to obey, and, ceasing to scream, wound his chubby arms ROSY'S IIOME. 29 around her neck, and put up his lips for a kiss. But the noise had awakened the twins, and a chorus of cries arose from the cradle in which they lay, their mother hav- ing gone out on an errand to the store, while they were sleeping. Rosy carried the two-year-old baby over to the cradle, and sitting down beside it tried to quiet the three-months-old babies by rocking them. But it was of no use. The two tiny faces rubbed themselves fretfully over the pillows, the four aimless fists struck out blindly at imaginary foes, and the two little bodies rolled around and doubled themselves up in angry impatience. The harder Rosy rocked, the louder the ba- bies screamed, until, in despair, she put Rob down upon the floor, and taking a baby on each knee, trotted them up and down with all her might. 30 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. But Rob did not approve of this position of affairs. He considered Rosy's lap his especial property, and, resenting his de- thronement, he seized each baby by the frock, and, dragging upon them with his whole strength, cried out, " Down, bad baby, down ! " " Don't do so, Rob ! " exclaimed Rosy, hardly able to hold the children back. " You don't want to sit on Rosy's lap. You're a man." Robbie had released his grasp at her loud exclamation, and now standing be- fore her with his hands clasped behind his back, he tried to look defiance. But it would not do. He could not bear to see those new babies usurping his place ; his lip began to quiver, two big tears rolled slowly down his face, and angrily sobbing EOSY'S HOME. 31 out, " Aint a man, aint a man a bit," the little fellow flung himself upon the floor, crying bitterly. Rosy could not stand that. Rob had always been her special pet, and it almost broke her heart to see how grieved he was. Down went the three-months-olds into the cradle again, and Rosy threw herself down beside him. "No, you aint a man. There now, come to your own nurse, little boy. You're nothing but my own baby." But Robbie considered himself aggrieved, and would not relent at first. Finally, however, her coaxing, aided by one of Miss Raymond's cakes, prevailed ; and when Mrs. Conroy returned, she found Rosy seated on the floor with Rob on her lap, while the twins lay in the cradle content- edly sacking their fists. 32 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " O mother," cried Rosy, springing up to meet her, " Miss Raymond is going to send me to a public school, and she is going to give me shoes and clothes, and she is coming to see you to-morrow to tell you all about it! " and she danced about in her delight, until Rob shouted with glee. " What do you mean, at all, at all, Rosy? Stand quiet, and tell me what it is. Is it to the Ward-school you mean ? " " Yes, and Miss Raymond will see to my clothes, and I'll learn to be a teacher, and I'll take care of you and father and the twins and Rob." " Softly, then, softly," said her mother, laughing at her excitement. " Miss Ray- mond's a fine lady, so she is, and it's right thankful I am to her. But you'll have to stick close to your books then, Rosy." ROSY'S HOME. 33 " Yes, I know, but I can study real hard, mother. Oh, wont we have a gay time when I'm a teacher, Robbie ? " It had been the dream of the child's life to become a teacher, that she might help her blind father, and careworn mother ; and this new hope, that her great desire was to be granted, filled her heart with joy. " Isn't father late to-night," she said, after a short silence. She wanted to tell him of this great delight " He is that, and Frn getting a bit wor- rited for him. Run you down the alley, Rosy, and see is he coming." Rosy went out, but before she reached the entrance to the alley, she heard hei father's cautious, slow step. " Is that you, father ? " she said, for it was too dark to see him. 3 34 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " It's raeself," said he. " What's kept you so late ? " asked the child, taking the cord by which he helcj his dog, out of his hand, and leading him herself on through the darkness. " 'Twas the dog. He's sick, I'm think- in', for he acts very queer. A good part of the forenoon he wouldn't walk at all, and I thought he'd scarce get me home, he seemed that weak in the legs." " Why, Spot, are you sick, old fellow ? " said Rosy, turning back to look at him. " Poor Spot." The dog, who was walking slowly along behind them, wagged his tail in answer to her voice, and then lay down wearily upon the stones. " Come, Spot. Come get your supper, old dog," said Rosy ; but he did not move. HOST'S HOME. 85 So after she had guided her father into the house, she went back. But roaxing und petting were all in vain. There he lay ; he had brought his master safely home, and now that his work was done his strength had utterly failed. The tears sprang into Rosy's eyes as she looked pityingly at him while he lay panting for breath. He was a rough, coarse-looking dog, but he carried a faithful heart under his coat of stiff yellow hair, and she loved him dearly. She could not bear to leave him on the cold stones, and putting her arms around him she exerted all her strength, and, lifting him as best she could, staggered up the steps and bore him safely into the house. " There, dear Spot," she said, " lie down by the stove and gel warm." 36 K03Y CONKOY'S LE330NS. And little Rob crept up to where he lay to pat his head and fondle him ten- derly. " Did you sell anything the day, Pat- rick ? " asked the mother, as they sat around the table eating their supper of bread, with tea for the father and mother, and molasses for the children. " No," said the man, sadly. " Nothing but a box of matches. It's been a sore day for me. So cold and bleak, and the dog ailing; me selling never a ha'porth but the bit of a box, and the rent so near due." The mother sighed, and Rosy thought again of that good time coming when the rent should no longer be a burden to her blind father, when she should be the one to bear all the burdens, and to care for and ROSY'S HOME. 37 help them all. She had told him of her happiness, but he had been so worried and distressed by his unsuccessful day's work that he had not paid any heed to her story. After supper she put the little ones to bed, while her mother rocked the babies, one in the cradle, the other on her knee ; and then she crept in beside Rob, and, wrapping her arms around him, asked God to help her to study hard, and to make her able to help her father and mother. Outside, in the front room, Patrick Con- roy and his wife sat together talking hope- lessly of the dark future ; of their eldest boy, "Will, who idled about day after day, refusing to work, and coming home only to eat and sleep ; of the great loss which they should suffer if their sick dog should 38 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. die ; of the coming winter which promised to be so severe, and of all the hundred cares and troubles which beset a poor man with a family of young children ; while within lay the child, her heart in a fluttei of joy and happiness, looking forward to that same future which to her imagina- tion seemed so bright and joyous. III. $Ita. OSY had been sound asleep, dream- ing of her new school, when she was suddenly wakened by a sharp cry. She started up hastily, thinking at first that Robbie had called out; but the little fellow lay quietly beside her. As she raised her head to listen, she heard a low, moaning sound coming from the outer room, and, softly creeping from her bed, she went to see what was the matter. Her heart was beating very fast, for in her pleasant dreams she had forgotten Spot, and she feared that the cry of pain had come from her father or mother. But (39) 40 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. when she glided softly through the door of the closet in which she slept, she found only the dog awake in the larger room. Her parents were sleeping heavily after their day's work, while Will lay curled up in a corner in a sound slum- ber. But there was one pair of eyes which greeted her as she stole across the floor, and poor Spot's tail wagged feebly as she approached him. He lay stretched out be- fore the stove, with his head thrown back, moaning piteously. " Poor dog," said Rosy, sitting down upon the floor beside him. " Dear old Spot." He looked up wistfully into her face, and, as she sat and stroked his head, his moans ceased, and at last he grew so A USELESS PLEA. 41 quiet that Rosy crept back to her bed once more. But she no longer dreamed happy dreams. Spot's groans and cries were woven into all her thoughts ; and she was tossing restlessly, muttering and sobbing when her moiher came to wake her in the morning. " What is it, Rosy ? " said Mrs. Conroy, putting back the tumbled hair from the child's face. "What makes you fret?" " I don't know, only I had bad dreams. T thought Spot was dead." " No, he's not dead, but he's far gone with the wakeness. You can hear the laments of him all over the house, he cries that sore. Come, get you dressed and run in to Mrs. O'Brien's. She's very knowledgeable on dogs, and maybe she can tell me what Fd best do for him 42 ROSY CONROVS LLSSOKS. Hist, Rosy, be quiet like, or you'll waken the boy." Robbie's hands had grasped her sleeve. Half-awakened by their voices, he had roused himself enough to say, " Stay to Robbie," and then sunk back into sleep, but holding her fast the while. Mrs. Conroy gently unclasped the tiny fingers, and Rosy proceeded to make herself ready to go for Mrs. O'Brien. When she came out into the front room she found her mother bending anxiously over the dog. " I'm thinking you'll have to go out with the father the day, Rosy," said she. " O mother ! Miss Raymond is coming to-day ! " " Ah, child, I'm afeared she'll come for nought If the dog dies, as I fear me he will, for he's took very bad, you'll have to lead the father." A USELESS PLEA. 43 Rosy stood still in silent dismay. If she must take her father out on hi's daily rounds, all her dearly-cherished plans and hopes must be given up. It seemed too hard a thing to think of. " O, Mother/' she said, " I must go to school, else Til never learn to be a teacher. Don't make me go with father," and her eyes, brimming with tears, were lifted pleadingly to her mother's face. " And would I ask it from you if I could help it, Rosy ? Sure and it's been the hope of me life that you should get larnin', but what'll we do if the father don't sell nothing? And how can he go his lone ? " "But Will might take him, mother." " If he would, he might ; but he's that contrairy and that set in his ways that 44 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. I'm afeared he'll not go for our asking. But ii you like you could try, Rosy dear." All the while that she was setting the table for breakfast, dressing the two smaller children and tending the babies, while her mother cut the bread and made the tea, Rosy was trying to make up her mind as to the most successful way of coaxing Will. He had been an un- kind, cross brother to her, and she was somewhat afraid of him ; but it was such a hard trial to give up the new hope which had arisen in her heart that she was willing to brave the chance of a sharp refusal. She could not decide on the way to approach the subject, and breakfast was over before she had sum- moned courage to speak to him. He was A USELESS PLEA. 45 leaving the room, when, feeling that this was her last chance, she stopped him. " Will, can't you go out with father, to-day 1 " "Go out with him? What, pilot him about the street with his basket of traps ? T guess I wont. Go with him yourself." "But, Will, I can't go every day. If Spot dies somebody must go with father always; and if you wont, I'll have to give up my school." " Who cares if you do ! School aint no good." "Yes, it is. And Miss Raymond is going to take me to a public school, where I can learn to be a teacher ; and O Will, I can't bear to give it up- Do please go." She had crept up very close to him 46 KOSY CONROY'S LESSONS. her flushed cheeks and quivering lips adding their entreaty to her words; but the boy's heart was very hard, and when she laid an eager hand upon his coat- sleeve in her earnestness, he flung it off, saying roughly, "Don't give it up then. Let him get along the best way he can. I aint going about the streets play- ing dog to a blind man." It was a hopeless case, and poor Rosy felt it so. "Oh, you bad, bad boy!" she cried out passionately, and as she spoke, she struck him on the arm. He started forward to return the blow, and Rosy might have suffered a severe punishment for her fault if her mother had not stepped between her and his angry hand. A USELESS PLEA. 47 " Don't lift ft finger to her," said Mrs. Conroy, pushing Will aside hastily. " She says true, you are a bad boy, and a shame to the mother what reared you, to speak in such fashion of your own father because the Lord's afflicted him. Go you out this minute, and don't you dare to raise your hand to Rosy." With a hard laugh the boy turned away, while his mother tried to soothe and comfort the sobbing child. The father had been out during this scene, and now, hearing his returning step, Rosy lifted her face from her mother's breast and tried to choke back her tears. " There, then, darlin'," said Mrs. Conroy, cheerily. " Don't fret no more. May be Spot'll be a deal easier the night \vhen you come home. Keep up a good heart, Rosy." TV. OME, little woman," said her father, as he entered the room, "it is high time we were off. You must take care of the blind-man to-day." If there were in the child's heart any lingering reluctance to yield her own will, her father's allusion to himself as " the blind-man " scattered it at once. She sprang up quickly, and flipping her hand into his, said, " I'm ready, father. I'll be a first-rate leader for you." So they went out together ; the father, with his basket filled with papers of pins, corJ, e!c., hanging on his arm, holding by ri) ROSY CONROY'S LESSORS. the hand his little child, whose bright eyes were to be a light in his darkness through all the weary march of the long day. But although Rosy went with a willing heart to her task, she was very quiet and subdued, walking by his side as gravely as a woman. Once before, she had led him out on his daily round, but then she had skipped along laughing and talking merrily, or singing snatches of sweet songs and hymns, until her joyous- ness had so infected him that his day's labor seemed only a pastime. But to-day she was very still, scarcely speaking except when he addressed her. He did not wonder at that however, for his own heart was sad as he thought of his faithful guide and companion, lying before the stove at homo, probably dying, and he knew that loved the old dog dearly. REPENTANCE. 51 But while Rosy thought sorrowfully of Spot, there was another sore trouble weigh- ing upon her mind, and making her usually bright face so solemn. If the pain which she felt had been only in her heart, she might have forgotten her own grief in that of her father, and have tried to cheer and comfort him ; but she had something worse to bear. Her conscience was hard at work. The angry words which she had spoken to Will, the blow which she had given him, rested heavily upon it, and it could not rest. In vain she told herself that Will was a cruel, unkind boy, and that it was very wicked for hira to speak as he had done of his blind father. That was all true ; but she felt that it made her sin none the less. She had no right to 52 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. sfrike him because he was wicked; and she knew full well, hard as she tried to excuse herself, that it was passion, and nothing else, which had led her to speak and act as she had done. And then another thought came up to add to her sorrow. She had been very much in earnest when she told Miss Raymond that she was trying to be a Christian. She had tried faithfully to follow the dear Saviour whom she truly loved, and she had begun to hope that she might yet lead Will to him. Dis- obedient as he was to his parents, roughly as he often spoke to the younger children, he had certainly been somewhat more gentle with her of late, and she had thought that if she bore patiently with his faults she might, by God's help, in- REPENTANCE. 53 duce him to live a better life. She had made a great effort; many and many a time, she had resolutely kept back the sharp retort which rose to her lips, and struggled against the anger which his conduct roused within her ; she had fought hard, and she had hoped that the victory was no', far off. But now, all was lost. After all her self-restraint and patience, she had quarrelled with him, and had even struck the first blow. She knew that the very fact of her long for- bearance only made this outbreak stand out in bolder contrast, and she felt sure that any new effort she might make to win Mm to a Christian life, would be met by some allusion to her own mis- conduct ; for Will knew that Rosy had chosen the Saviour for her Master and 54 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. was trying to follow him. The little heart grew more troubled, and the young face more grave, as she walked on, think- ing of all this. By and by her restless conscience set a new thought before her, with very dis- agreeable vividness. She felt that she ought to ask her brother's pardon. That was a hard thing to do. He had been so unkind ; it was his fault that the quarrel had arisen; it seemed as if she could not do it. No ; she would be gentle and pleasant when she saw him again, but she would not ask his forgiveness. But conscience is a severe taskmaster when it has a certain work to do in a ten- der heart ; and Rosy's would not content itself with such a half-way measure as that, and it stung her so sharply that it REPENTANCE. brought the tears to her eyes, and made her lip quiver with distress. Her pride would not let her yield even while she knew that she could not be at peace until she did so. It was a hard-fought battle, and lasted through all the morning, but finally poor Rosy's pride was vanquished, and with an earnest but silent prayer for strength, she resolved to do even this for her master. Her mind once made up, her heart grew lighter. She had been so engrossed with her own painful thoughts, that she had scarcely noticed her father. She had led him to the different places to which he di- rected her, and stood beside him while he offered his wares for sale ; but she had paid no attention to what passed around her, farther than that. Now, as she looked up at him, she saw that his face was very sad, 56 ROSY CONROYS LESSONS. and noticed that his step was slow and weary. " How much have you sold, father ? " she asked him. " Only eight cents' worth, all this long day." Rosy started. She knew that when they left home a small half-loaf of bread was all the food that remained in the house. That must have been eaten by this time, and they had not yet made enough to buy another loaf. " Oh, we must get ten cents, at least," she said ; and taking some cards of hooks and eyes from the basket, she held them out to the passers-by, begging them to pur- chase something of her. Pressing forward hi her eagerness to gain enough to feed the hungry children at home, REPENTANCE. 57 she left her father standing on the comer, and turned into the next street. " Please, sir, buy some cards," she said to a gentleman who passed her. He put a penny into her hand, and went on. Another and another hurried on unheed- ing, and Rosy was on the point of turning back in despair, when a lady approached. Many had passed as she stood there, but something in the look of this new-comer gave the child confidence. "Please, ma'am," she said, drawing near- er to her. " I have nothing for you," said the lady. " I don't want to beg, ma'am," said Rosy, keeping close by her side ; " but I do want to sell these cards so very bad." " Oh, that is it, is it ? Well, give me one." 58 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " Four cents they are, ma'am." The lady handed her ten cents. " Could you wait one minute while I run to my father for the change ? He is stand- ing on the next corner." " No, never mind. You may keep it." " Oh, thank you, ma'am. It'll buy us bread for supper," and Rosy ran back to her father with the load lifted from her heart. It was nearly dusk, and they had a long walk before them ; so they turned toward home, offering their little articles to all whom they met on their way ; but no one bought. The eighteen cents was the whole profit of the day's labor. V. a Sitter (grief. OSY was disappointed when they v., cr reached home, to find that Will ^P was not there. She had resolved to tell him at once how sorry she was that she had been so passionate in the morning, and she wanted to relieve her burdened con- science without delay. But the instant that her eye fell on Spot, her whole heart turned to him, and she forgot Will and all her trouble on his account as she knelt down beside the dog. lie was lying where she had left him in the morning, gasping convulsively for breath ; but when he heard the step of his (59) 60 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. master and his little Mend he opened his eyes ; and as Rosy threw herself upon the floor beside him, he staggered to his feet, and sank down again with his head upon her lap. " Mother, he's dying," said Hosy, foi even her unpractised sight noticed the glaze on the soft eyes as they looked wist- fully into her face. " Don't let him die, mother ; can't you help him ? " " And would'nt I give him the help if I had it, then," said the mother. " He's be- yond me entirely, so he is, poor tiling." The blind man came with his slow step across the room, and bending down, laid his hand upon the head of his faithful com- panion. " Good Spot," he said, in a quivering A LITTER GRIEF. 61 voice. " It's a true friend you've been to me. But we'll never tramp the streets together again, old boy, never." The dog tried to lick the caressing hand, and then his eyes raised themselves again to Rosy's face with a look which seemed to speak almost in living words, so full of love and longing was it. And the child sat gazing at him with flushed cheeks and tearless eyes. There was a great grief tugging at her heart- strings. It was not only that her dog, the friend of her babyhood, who had grown up with her, loved almost as dearly as her sisters and brothers, lay dying, but all her hopes and wishes were dying with him, the hopes which she had cherished for years, and which last night had seemed so near their fulfilment. It seemod to her 62 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. as if the world had suddenly grown cold and chill, and God and heaven were far, far away; and wearied with her day's toil, disheartened by ill-success, she felt as if Spot's death would be the one drop which was needed to fill the full cup to overflowing. She had not long to wait for that last drop of sorrow. The yearning look in those glazing eyes grew more intense ; suddenly the dog sprung to his feet, and laid his nose upon her neck, press- ing close to her as if to seek protec- tion from the icy hand which grasped his heart. Rosy clasped her arms around him, hiding her face against his head, and with a strong, hard shudder, old Spot drew his last breath. It was a sad group upon which his A BITTElt GRIEF. 63 dying eyes closed. The blind man with his sightless eyes turned away, as if even his blindness could not shut out the mournful picture ; the mother, with her apron thrown over her head, crying bitterly ; Susy, leaning upon her father's knee, turning away, like him, from the cruel sight; and Rob, with his hand on Rosy's shoulder, gazing in awe-struck, silent grief, at his playmate ; while Rosy Spot's favorite among them all looked on with burning, dry eyes, clasp- ing him tightly in her loving arms, as if she would hold him back from the death which was dragging him from her. By and by Mrs. Conroy moved away from the sorrowful group, and began to make preparations for their simple supper. 64 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " Come," she said, when it was ready ; " come and eat a bit before we go to our beds." But no one was hungry. Even little Robbie, whose chubby hands were gen- erally only too eager to grasp at any- thing eatable, turned away from the slice of bread that his mother offered him, sobbing out, " Robbie don't want bread ; Robbie wants Spot to open his eyes." The mother was putting away the almost untasted supper, when Will came in. " O Will," said Robbie, running tow- ard him, " Spot wont look at his own boy." Will crossed the room to where Rosy sat with the dog's head still pillowed on her lap. A BITTER GRIEF. 65 M Is the brute dead ? " he asked, roughly. She did not answer, but his mother said, " Speak softer, WilL Yes, he's dead, poor fellow." He walked away to the table without another word, and took up the loaf of bread which still lay there ; but throwing it instantly down, said, " That bread is stale." " We can't buy fresh bread," said Mrs. Conroy. " It makes more waste than this." " I should think when you give a fel- low nothing but dry bread, it might as well be fresh," said he, sullenly. Rosy looked up with flashing eyes. There were angry words on her lips, 66 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. but the next moment she bent her head down again without speaking. " You might have what you like to eat, if you chose, Will," said the father. " 'Tis your own fault you live so poor. You ought to work and earn wages like an honest man." " I aint going to work for nobody," said Will ; " so there's no use talking." " You needn't tell us that," said Rosy, turning upon him suddenly. " We all know that though you're a big, strong fellow, you're just mean enough to steal your living from your poor blind father, rather than work for yourself!" She was trembling with passion as she stood before him, with her eyes fixed on his sullen face. Will looked at her for a moment with A 15ITTER GRIEF. 67 a sneering smile, and then moved away, saying, " This is your second fury to- day. You're getting mighty pious, aint you ? " The child's whole aspect changed in- stantly. Her upraised hand fell slowly to her side, her eye lost its indignant flash, and, without answering a single word, she took Robbie by the hand and went away into the closet in which they slept ; and when she had undressed the boy, and laid him in the bed, she laid down beside him, and cried as if her heart would break. Her first impulse to resentment had been controlled, but the second had been stronger, and had overcome her before she had time to resist it; and she had given Will an opportunity to sneer at her efforts to HOST CONKOY'S LESSONS. follow in the footsteps of her Master. Poor little child! those fast flowing tears were very bitter. By and by, when she had cried her- self into a more quiet state of feeling, she began to think what it was best for her to do. It was harder now than ever to ask Will's pardon, and yet she could not still that voice within, which urged her to the task. For a long while she lay there thinking. All was still in the outer room, and she tried to persuade herself that Will was asleep, and would be angry if she waked him, and she tried to sleep, too. But it would not do. That small voice whis- pered, at first in low tones, then louder and louder, until at last, with a sudden resolution, she rose from the bed, knelt A BITTER GRIEF. 69 down for one moment to ask her Sav- iour for the help she needed to do his will, and then crept out into the front room. "Will was sitting before the stove. He raised his head with a start when he heard the patter of her bare feet on the boards. " What are you about ? Go back to your bed," he said, sharply. " I will in a moment," she said, humbly. " We must talk softly, or we'll wake father and mother. I'm so sorry that I was cross and angry to-day. Will you forgive me ? " "Humph," said the boy, "that's all very well. You're mighty sorry now, but the next time you fly into a pas- sion it'll be the same old story. You get i/rto a tantrum, and hit or knock 70 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. me as you like, and think that all you've got to do is to come crying, and say, ' Please forgive me,' " and he imi- tated the tremulous tones of her voice. " No, I wont forgive you. I don't be- lieve in your kind of pious. Go off to bed." " O Will, please do," she said, beseech- ingly. " I wont. There, do you hear what 1 say. Now go, or I'll make you." He started up with a threatening gesture, and, frightened by his angry manner, she fled back into her closet VI. a |? HE sound of voices loud in dispute mixed itself with Rosy's morning dreams, and the noise of a heavy fall made her start up in her bed with sudden terror. At first she could not tell whether it had been all a dream or not, but the next moment her mother's voice called her in a quick, frightened tone, and running into the front room, with her heart beat- ing fast with fear, she found her father lying upon the floor, and her mother kneeling beside him, trying to raise him in her arms. " O, mother," cried Rosy, " is father dead, too ? " (71) 72 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " No, child. The Lord be praised for sparing us that." " No, Rosy, it's nothing very bad," said the father cheerfully. " I'm thinking my ankle's got a sprain, or the likes of it," and he tried to lift himself to his feet. But the effort gave him such pain that he sank back with a groan. "How did he happen to fall?" asked Rosy, as she gently wiped away the great drops which stood on his forehead. " ' Twas Will did it," said the mother. " Your father bade him bide at home the morn till it was time for him to go out with his wares ; but V/ill wouldn't hearken to it. He wouldn't dj so much as to lead him to a good corner, so that you might go to your school ; and the father was sore angered. They got into high words, and ROSY A TRADESWOMAN. 73 when Will tried to pass the door, the father laid hold on him, and between them, I don't rightly know how it was, he fell over the step here with his foot bent under him. Oh, dear, what'll we do at all with the father laid by ? " " Never mind, mother dear," said Rosy, as Mrs. Conroy took up the corner of her apron to wipe away the tears which were rolling slowly down her face. " You mustn't get discouraged." " But child there's never a cent in the house, and your father may lie for weeks afore he can put his foot to the ground ; and there's six hungry mouths to feed." " We'll see and get something to fill them, mother. Don't be afraid. Let me go out with father's basket to-day. Maybe I can sell a little." 74 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " Dear heart," said the mother, tenderly. " But I'd be afeared to have you go out your lone, Rosy." " God wont let any harm happen me." " No more he wouldn't then, and you working for the father and mother and the little ones." They had succeeded in lifting the blind man into a chair, and while Mrs. Conroy bound up the injured foot, Rosy went back to Robbie who was fretting and crying in the closet. She had spoken cheerfully to her mother, for her warm, loving heart was full of pity for her, but she had said what she did because she wanted to console her, not because she felt the comfort in her own soul. She had said that God would watch over her, and yet she felt as if she could ROSY A TRADESWOMAN. /--? not find God that morning ; and her whole heart was roused again, against the broth- er whose wickedness had made so much suffering for them all. An hour later Rosy went out with her father's basket on her arm ; for the children, hungry after the fast of the past evening, had eaten so heartily that but little was left for the mid-day meal. If the many, many people who passed the corner of Fourteenth Street and Broad- way, on that bright Saturday, could have looked into the heart of the child who stood there quietly offering for sale her papers of pins and cards of buttons, they would have paused and tried to do some- thing toward lightening its load of care. But if Rosy's basket had been filled with money, that would have lifted but a part 76 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. of the load from her spirit, for the heavi- est weight resting there was a burden of angry, resentful feeling. Yesterday she had gone through a hard struggle with her conscience ; but to-day she would not listen for a moment to its suggestions, and every time that it raised its voice, telling her that she ought to forgive her brother, she answered it angrily, saying, that she had done all that she could; she had asked his pardon, and he had unkindly refused it, and she could not and would not forgive his cruelty to her blind father. So she stood there brooding over all the trouble that he had caused, until her whole soul was full of bitterness, and her usually bright face clouded and saddened. It was growing late, and the crowd of people passing up and down began ROSY A TRADESWOMAN. to thin somewhat, but still the child stood patiently holding out her cards. By and by a big boy turned the corner ; he stopped beside her, and suddenly striking her basket with his elbow, upset it on the walk, and with a loud laugh ran off. "Just like a boy," said Rosy to herself as she picked up the scattered articles. ' All boys are horrid ! " A remorseful thought of Robbie with his pretty prattle and sweet ways, came across her mind, as she made that strong assertion ; and the next moment she doubted again whether it was quite a fair condemnation, for a pleasant, hearty voice said, " Hallo, Rosy, is this you ? Where's your father ? " " He's home," said Rosy. " He's had a fall and lamed his foot" 78 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " My ! That's bad, aint it ? But what's happened to your basket? Your things are all in a mess." " I know it A boy knocked it over." " Did he do it o' purpose ? " " Yes. Wasn't it mean ? " " Mean ! I wish I'd been here to caich him. I reckon he wouldn't have wanted to see Ned Dolan very soon again. You look right tired. Sit down on my foot- block, and I'll try to sell some for you." He placed the block upon its side on the pavement, and, seating her upon it, turned away with her basket in his hand. "Buttons! Buttons! Buy my nice but- tons ! Strong and good, and wash first- rate ! " called Ned's clear voice. And many turned to listen to it, there was such an honest, manly ring in it. ROSY A TRADESWOMAN. 79 Some did more than pause to listen; and when Ned pointed toward the child sitting close at hand, and told them that her father was blind and lame, and that she had stood there all day long try- ing to earn a little money to buy bread, he found that there were some generous hearts among his hearers, and the pennies and other small pieces of money fell quite plentifully into the basket By and by, he came back to where Rosy was sitting. "I've got a heap of coppers," said he. " Let's count up and see how much you've made altogether." She gave him the hoard which she had put carefully into the bosom of hei dress, and he proceeded to count it. " One dollar and eighteen cents. That's pretty good, aint it?" 80 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. " One dollar and eighteen cents ! " re- peated Rosy, in amazement. " Why, Ned, that can't be!" " Yes, it can. You gave me thirty cents, and I got the rest. One old gent gave me a twenty-five, and a little chap gave me two tens when I told them that your father was blind ; and the rest came from one and another, you know. Take it, it's yours." " But, Ned, you ought to have part, because you sold the things." " No, I oughtn't ; and besides, I didn't sell much, they mostly gave it. Come on. Let's start for home." Rosy put tlie money carefully away, telling him over and over again how much she thanked him, and they turned toward home, Ned carrying her basket as well as hi* own block. ROSY A TRADESWOMAN. 81 " I say, Rosy," said the boy, after they had walked some distance, " there's somethin' ailin' you. What is it? " " Oh, I don't know, only it seems at> if every one was bad except father and mother and the children, and you, Ned You are good." " Me good," said the boy, bending eagerly forward. "Do you think that? Honest, now Rosy." " Yes, I guess I do think so," said Rosy, so earnestly that Ned had no chance to doubt her. " Pve been trying for it," said he, thoughtfully. " I've been trying for it right hard, but I don't think it's come yet." " You're real good to me, any way," 8 82 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. and Rosy drew closer to him, and slipped her hand through his arm. " P'raps I am to you. But, Rosy, its so mighty hard to be good when all the other fellows are bad." " Yes, Ned, it's very hard. Some days are so different from other days, too. Now sometimes I feel as if I loved God so much that I'd do anything he wants; and then other days he seems far away from me, and everything goes wrong, and I feel cross and wicked all the time. Do you feel that way ? " " Yes, and that's why I think I can't be good yet. Aint it queer, Rosy? I wonder what makes it.'' " I don't know," said she, " but I wish things were different." " So do I ; but I aint agoin' to give ROSY A TRADESWOMAN. 83 over trying, that's sure," said Ned. Are you, Rosy ? " " No," said Rosy, as she turned into the court which led to her home ; but there was no heartiness in her tone. The little girl was in danger that night. She had allowed a spirit of un- forgiving anger to take possession of her heart, and it was bunding her to all that was fair and sweet in her life, and opening her eyes to all that was dark and dreary. Rosy Conroy. p. 85. VII. ^rm0r Imthlefo on. ISS RAYMOND'S class in Sunday school was usually very quiet and attentive, her only difficulty being Rosy Conroy's irresistible inclination to laugh at any little circumstance which struck her as amusing. Miss Raymond had no desire to repress the child's love of mirth, but the fun and merriment which seemed always bubbling up within her, sometimes broke out in a bright sparkle, as if it could not be restrained, even in the midst of the lessons for the day. For some weeks past, however, Rosy (85) 86 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. had been very attentive, and her teacher had not found it necessary to check her laughter; but on the Sabbath follow- ing the day of her father's accident she was more than quiet. Her usually eager greeting was dull and listless, and dur- ing the singing of the hymns, in which she generally joined with such keen pleasure, she sat looking silently down upon her book ; and all through the les- son her manner was the same. She was about to leave the class when the school was dismissed, but Miss Raymond laid her hand upon her shoulder, and said, " Can you wait one moment, Rosy? I want to speak to you." " What troubles you to-day ? " she asked, drawing her toward her when THE ARMOR EUCKLED ON. 87 the other girls had left the seat " 1 never saw you look so grave before." Rosy's tears lay as near the surface as her smiles, and the gentle voice and words brought them into her eyes at once. " I don't know," she said, " unless it's because every one is ugly and wicked." Miss Raymond moved so as to shield her from observation, then she said, " What makes you think that everybody is ugly and wicked, Rosy ? " " Oh, a great many things. Will be- haves shamefully. He wont work, and he's bad to father. Yesterday he was quarrelling with him, and somehow father fell, and he's sprained his foot. He's a dreadful boy ! " 88 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. ''And do you try to do him all the good you can?" " He wont let me do him any good ! I've tried and tried, and it aint any use. I'm not going to try any more!" " We wont talk about that just now," said Miss Raymond . " I think that my little Rosy wants comforting, and I had rather do that. Now try to tell me just how you feel, and let us see if I can help you," Rosy's manner had been angry and excited when speaking of Will, but it changed instantly. " I can't tell how I feel," she said, looking up at her teacher with her face all trembling with emotion ; " but I'm afraid I don't love my Saviour, after all." " What makes you think so, Rosy ? THE ARMOR BUCKLED ON. 89 YOQ told me only a day or two ago that you did love him." " I know I did, and I thought so then ; but everything seems different now. Some- times I felt as if he was close by, and I was so glad to think he was so near me ; but now he seems so far, so very far away, and) oh, I do feel so lonely ! " and she hid her face against Miss Raymond's arm, sobbing bitterly. " Did you say your prayers this morn- ing, Rosy?" " Yes, but it didn't do a bit of good." " Did you say, ' Our Father which art in heaven ? ' " Yes, ma'am, I always say that." " Did you think of any one whom you needed to forgive, when you said, * Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors ? ' ; 90 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. Rosy looked as if she did not quite com- prehend ; but all at once the full meaning of the question flashed across her mind. " O Miss Raymond ! " she said, has- tily, "I never thought of all that meant, before." " I was afraid that you had not, Rosy. That is a very solemn petition. This morning you asked God to forgive your sins as you forgive the sins of others. Do you want him to answer that prayer; to forgive you as you forgive your brother ? " " No, no ! I never meant that. Indeed, I didn't!" " I don't suppose you did, dear. But we must never ask God to do anything for us unless we fully mean all that we say. Now let us talk about your trouble. Here is a child who has a loving father THE ARMOR BUCKLED ON. 91 and mother, three dear little sisters, and one of the sweetest little brothers ever seen; yet this same child tells me that every one is ugly and wicked. Because she has one bad brother she turns away from the precious thought of all the other dear friends whom God has given her, and nurses up her feelings of anger and impatience until she almost forgets that there is any sunshine at all in the world. This is very sinful, Rosy. You are wrong- ing your dear ones at home ; you are wronging me ; and, worse than all, you are wronging God." Poor Rosy felt as if this were laying a very heavy weight of blame upon her shoulders; but the rebuking voice was gentle, and the hand which held hers was very tender in its touch. 92 ROSY CONROY'S LESSONS. I couldn't help it," she said, piteousiy. " I did try to be good to him when he was bad to me. I did forgive him when he was cross about the school and wouldn't let me go, though I wanted to so bad; and I begged his pardon for be- ing naughty to him. But when he be- haves so to father and mother I can't bear it. They're so good to him. Mother al- ways keeps a big bit of bread for him, never mind how pinched we are ; and father scarcely ever scolds him. I can't be forgiving and forgiving all the time, and he never a bit the better for it." " Suppose that God said he could not be forgiving and forgiving all the time, where would my Rosy be?" The child was silent, and Miss Ray- mond went on. " The reason that you THE ARMOR BUCKLED ON. 93 feel so lonely, Rosy, so far away from God, is that you are keeping in your heart feelings that he does not love. Gentle Jesus cannot stay in a heart that is full of anger and bitterness. They crowd him out, and he turns sadly away, thinking that his little lamb is wander- ing away from him. Does this little lamb mean to let him go from her, and leave her to lose herself in the wilderness; or,