No one answered. The girls looked both surprised and shocked, and Miss Eunice continued:--

"On the contrary, I dare say many of you remember times when the thrilling interest of an exciting story has made you utterly forget your prayers, or at any rate has made church and Sunday-school and the homely duties of a Christian life seem tame and flat by comparison. Is it not so?"

Many bowed a.s.sent.

"Now for my last question: Would you be willing that your fathers and brothers or the young men of your acquaintance should read all of these books with you, every pa.s.sage, and could you, without blushing, read them aloud to your pastor or to me?"

No answer.

"There is another aspect of the question," continued the teacher. "Your employers pay you a stipulated sum in return for a certain amount of work to be done in a certain amount of time. They have a right to expect you to give your best skill, your closest attention. Do you think it is quite _honest_ either to use a part of that time in reading foolish, useless, or hurtful books, or to come to your work so exhausted and preoccupied by them as to be unfitted for performing your part of the contract?"

"I do not desire to coerce you, or even to bind your consciences by any promise, but I leave you to consider all I have said, and I think if you do so honestly and prayerfully you will come to the conclusion that for you who hope you have found your Saviour,--nay, I will say for all, inasmuch as you all ought to be Christians,--the reading of this kind of books and stories is among those works of the flesh and the devil which you are called to renounce."

Katie had got the answer she had asked for, and besides she was well furnished with arguments to bring to bear upon Tessa the first opportunity she should have of talking with her, and that, she determined, should be very soon.

When the girls and their escorts had gone home that evening, the two sisters lingered to talk a little over the question that had so interested their scholars. It was a new thing for them to have any common interest, and Eunice hailed it as a good omen that her sister should consult with her about anything. Etta had not yet confided to her elder sister her new hopes, purposes, and feelings. She was an independent girl, who had always thought and acted for herself, and there had never been anything like sisterly familiarity between the eldest and youngest of the Mountjoys. The distance between them was too great, and perhaps the elder, in filling the position of a mother to her little sister, had at first a.s.sumed a little too much of the authority of one. She had grown wiser now, and did not attempt to force the young girl's confidence; but she could not but be conscious of a change. There was an increased gentleness of manner and sweetness of tone, a thoughtful consideration of others, and deference to her own wishes which she had never seen before. Her continuing to attend the Wednesday meetings, and her serious attention when there, were good signs; so was Etta's voluntary attendance at the Sunday evening service, a thing that had never happened before, and Eunice began to hope that the solemn, earnest realities of life would yet become precious to her light-hearted, wayward sister.

This evening they talked over the novel grievance, and the temptations to which the mill-girls were exposed, and Etta proposed a plan for their benefit, which, when matured and digested, besides being supported by Mr. Mountjoy's purse and his son's executive ability, eventuated in the conversion of an unused loft in the mill into a library and reading-room for the girls and such of their brothers and friends as knew how to appreciate its benefits by behaving like gentlemen.

The books were chosen with great care, and were the best of their kind to be had--popular science, history, and biography, with a large, a very large, proportion of such fiction as had a tendency to elevate and instruct, while it interested, its readers. The books were not to be taken from the building, except upon rare occasions and under peculiar circ.u.mstances; but the reading-room, which was nicely carpeted, well warmed, and furnished with long tables and comfortable chairs, was open during the noon intermission and for two hours every evening, and good behavior was the only condition demanded for enjoying both its social and literary privileges. The library soon became a very popular inst.i.tution, and the sale and consumption of sensational literature decreased proportionally.

Before separating for the night, Etta said: "Did you notice the girl who asked the question about novels?"

"Katie Robertson? Yes; I have had my eye on her for a long time. She seems the most promising subject of your cla.s.s."

"So I have always thought; but I have had a terrible disappointment in her. No one would suppose it, but I have recently heard that she is a thief, and that to a large amount. The child, innocent as she looks, has actually stolen fifty dollars from our mill."

"That is absolutely impossible! I will not believe it. Who told you so, Etta?"

"One of the cla.s.s. Bertie Sanderson. She was not at all willing to tell tales on her companion, but I questioned her and found it is as I say.

She a.s.sures me that all the girls know about it, and that two of them--she did not give their names--saw the theft."

"Why did they not inform about it at once?"

"So I asked her; but she did not seem to know, and also declined giving the names of the two girls. That was a little more honorable than I gave Bertie credit for being."

"A little more deceitful, possibly," said Eunice, who had no high opinion of Bertie Sanderson; "yet, if she were herself one of these girls, she would, I suppose, have been glad to say so. Where do you suppose this child found fifty dollars to steal? Money is not kept loose around the mill, and the girls do not have access to the office. There is something we don't know about this, Etta. The subject ought to be investigated. Have you spoken to James?"

"No, I don't want to prejudice him against Katie, if she should be innocent; but I fear that is hardly possible, after what Bertie said."

"I should be more inclined to suspect Bertie herself. Where do you suppose she got that flashy silk dress she wears?"

"Isn't it horrid! I wonder those girls don't see how vulgar their cheap finery is."

"Perhaps they try to copy their teacher," ventured the elder sister, whose exquisitely neat style of dress was always remarkable for its plainness and simplicity when she came in contact with her Sunday scholars. But Etta was not yet sufficiently humbled to take reproof from that source, and she abruptly left the room. All the same, however, she thought and prayed a great deal upon the subject, and the next Sunday surprised her cla.s.s by appearing before them without an unnecessary ribbon or ornament.

CHAPTER XI.

TESSA.

Katie Robertson remained in the mill that Sat.u.r.day afternoon, although her work had long been completed, till the bell rang for five o'clock, that being the hour for the Sat.u.r.day dismissal. Then she said to Tessa:--

"Come and take a walk with me. There's a full hour before tea, and I don't believe you've ever seen the Fawn's Leap. Have you?"

"No," said her companion, "I have never been anywhere in Squantown. They would not let us go, in the poor-house, and since I've been in the mill I've been too tired after work was over."

"Are you very tired now?"

"Not so very; I did not sleep much last night."

"Was it a _very_ interesting story?" said the other, archly.

"Oh, yes," said Tessa, becoming at once very much excited; "she, Amanda, I mean, married the most elegant count, and he took her to his castle, and she had pearls and diamonds and silks and satins, and never had to do a thing all the rest of her life; and only think, Katie, she was a mill-girl in the beginning, just like us." The sentence finished with a sigh.

"Would you like a count to come and carry you off to a castle by-and-by, and give you all those things?"

"Oh, indeed, yes; when the light goes out, and I can't read any more I lie awake thinking about it, and wondering if such a count will ever come along. He might, you know, any day."

"Does that make the mill seem any pleasanter in the morning?"

"No! no! I hate the mill. It looks so rough and bare, and the girls all seem so common. I feel like crying to have to spend so many hours there."

"And then you can't do your work well. I know just how that feels. Miss Eunice says it isn't _honest_ to do anything that will unfit us for the work we are paid for doing."

This was a new definition of dishonesty to Tessa, but she only said:--

"Who's Miss Eunice?"

"Oh, she's the teacher of the Bible-cla.s.s; the nicest, most splendid lady in the Sunday-school, except, of course, Miss Etta. She's our teacher, you know, but she's so young she seems just like one of ourselves."

"Do you go to Sunday-school?" said Tessa opening her eyes. "I thought only little children went. Father said it was so in Italy."

"But everybody goes here. There's great big girls, quite young women, in Miss Eunice's cla.s.s. Tessa," said Katie, struck with a sudden idea, "what do you do with yourself on Sundays?"

"I read," said the person addressed; "read all day long. I lie on the bed in my room, and forget how hot it is and how lonely, and then when it gets dark I remember beautiful Italy and cry."

"What a lonely life," said Katie, sympathetically. "Why don't you go to church?"

"We never went to church, my father and I. He said the church had ruined Italy, and he was not a Catholic any more."

"But we're not Catholics. Oh, I wish you would come to our church and our Sunday-school! It's just as nice!--there's Miss Etta, and Bertie and Gretchen and Cora, and two or three more, and on Wednesday Miss Eunice invites our cla.s.s and hers to tea, and reads to us, and we have a society and work for missions and--oh, it's so nice!" said enthusiastic Katie.

"Do you go to Sunday-school just to have nice times?" and Tessa opened her black eyes very widely.

"No," said her friend, more soberly; "I think I go there to learn more about Jesus, and how to love him more and serve him better. Some of us hope to join the church soon."