Amy felt that there was something behind this,but could not guess what, and said quietly,feeling hurt, and showing that she did,“Perhaps you had rather I took no table at all?”
“Now, my dear, don’t have any ill feeling, I beg.It’s merely a matter of expediency, you see,my girls will naturally take the lead,and this table is considered their proper place.I think it very appropriate to you,and feel very grateful for your efforts to make it so pretty,but we must give up our private wishes, of course,and I will see that you have a good place elsewhere.Wouldn’t you like the flower table?The little girls undertook it, but they are discouraged.You could make a charming thing of it,and the flower table is always attractive you know.”
“Especially to gentlemen,” added May,with a look which enlightened Amy as to one cause of her sudden fall from favor. She colored angrily, but took no other notice of that girlish sarcasm, and answered with unexpected amiability...
“It shall be as you please, Mrs. Chester.I’ll give up my place here at once,and attend to the flowers, if you like.”
“You can put your own things on your own table,if you prefer,” began May,feeling a little conscience-stricken,as she looked at the pretty racks, the painted shells,and quaint illuminations Amy had so carefully made and so gracefully arranged.She meant it kindly, but Amy mistook her meaning, and said quickly...
“Oh, certainly, if they are in your way,” and sweeping her contributions into her apron,pell-mell, she walked off,feeling that herself and her works of art had been insulted past forgiveness.
“Now she’s mad. Oh, dear,I wish I hadn’t asked you to speak, Mama,” said May,looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table.
“Girls’ quarrels are soon over,” returned her mother,feeling a trifle ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might.
The little girls hailed Amy and her treasures with delight,which cordial reception somewhat soothed her perturbed spirit,and she fell to work, determined to succeed florally,if she could not artistically.But everything seemed against her. It was late,and she was tired. Everyone was too busy with their own affairs to help her,and the little girls were only hindrances,for the dears fussed and chattered like so many magpies,making a great deal of confusion in their artless efforts to preserve the most perfect order. The evergreen arch wouldn’t stay firm after she got it up, but wiggled and threatened to tumble down on her head when the hanging baskets were filled. Her best tile got a splash of water, which left a sepia tear on the Cupid’s cheek. She bruised her hands with hammering, and got cold working in a draft, which last affliction filled her with apprehensions for the morrow. Any girl reader who has suffered like afflictions will sympathize with poor Amy and wish her well through her task.
There was great indignation at home when she told her story that evening.Her mother said it was a shame,but told her she had done right.Beth declared she wouldn’t go to the fair at all,and Jo demanded why she didn’t take all her pretty things and leave those mean people to get on without her.
“Because they are mean is no reason why I should be.I hate such things,and though I think I’ve a right to be hurt,I don’t intend to show it.They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won’t they, Marmee?”
“That’s the right spirit, my dear.A kiss for a blow is always best,though it’s not very easy to give it sometimes,” said her mother, with the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and practicing.
In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate,Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day,bent on conquering her enemy by kindness.She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that came to her unexpectedly,but most opportunely.As she arranged her table that morning,while the little girls were in the anteroom filling the baskets,she took up her pet production, a little book,the antique cover of which her father had found among his treasures,and in which on leaves of vellum she had beautifully illuminated different texts. As she turned the pages rich in dainty devices with very pardonable pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think. Framed in a brilliant scrollwork of scarlet, blue and gold, with little spirits of good will helping one another up and down among the thorns and flowers, were the words, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”
“I ought, but I don’t,” thought Amy,as her eye went from the bright page to May’s discontented face behind the big vases, that could not hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a minute, turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet rebuke for all heartburnings and uncharitableness of spirit. Many wise and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street, school, office, or home. Even a fair table may become a pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season. Amy’s conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and there, and she did what many of us do not always do, took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice.
A group of girls were standing about May’s table,admiring the pretty things,and talking over the change of saleswomen.They dropped their voices,but Amy knew they were speaking of her,hearing one side of the story and judging accordingly.It was not pleasant,but a better spirit had come over her,and presently a chance offered for proving it.She heard May say sorrowfully...
“It’s too bad, for there is no time to make other things,and I don’t want to fill up with odds and ends.The table was just complete then. Now it’s spoiled.”
“I dare say she’d put them back if you asked her,” suggested someone.
“How could I after all the fuss?” began May, but she did not finish,for Amy’s voice came across the hall,saying pleasantly...
“You may have them, and welcome, without asking,if you want them. I was just thinking I’d offer to put them back,for they belong to your table rather than mine.Here they are, please take them,and forgive me if I was hasty in carrying them away last night. ”
As she spoke, Amy returned her contribution,with a nod and a smile, and hurried away again,feeling that it was easier to do a friendly thing than it was to stay and be thanked for it.
“Now, I call that lovely of her, don’t you?” cried one girl.
May’s answer was inaudible, but another young lady,whose temper was evidently a little soured by making lemonade,added, with a disagreeable laugh, “Very lovely,for she knew she wouldn’t sell them at her own table.”
Now, that was hard. When we make little sacrifices we like to have them appreciated, at least, and for a minute Amy was sorry she had done it, feeling that virtue was not always its own reward. But it is, as she presently discovered, for her spirits began to rise, and her table to blossom under her skillful hands, the girls were very kind, and that one little act seemed to have cleared the atmosphere amazingly.
It was a very long day and a hard one for Amy,as she sat behind her table, often quite alone,for the little girls deserted very soon.Few cared to buy flowers in summer,and her bouquets began to droop long before night.
The art table was the most attractive in the room.There was a crowd about it all day long,and the tenders were constantly flying to and fro with important faces and rattling money boxes. Amy often looked wistfully across, longing to be there, where she felt at home and happy, instead of in a corner with nothing to do. It might seem no hardship to some of us, but to a pretty, blithe young girl, it was not only tedious, but very trying, and the thought of Laurie and his friends made it a real martyrdom.