"Humph! Did she say that?" asked Mr. Thompson. "Well 'people who live in gla.s.s houses shouldn't throw stones.'"

"Why do you say that?" inquired Ethel curiously.

"Because her own father failed some years ago."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Oh yes, I remember it very well, though I suppose it must have been quite nine or ten years ago, time flies so fast. But he is a very prosperous man now."

Ethel did not wait to hear more, but went to school next day full of the idea of humbling Julia by means of this wonderful piece of news. She had already whispered it to two or three girls when the cousins appeared at the door and the bell rang for cla.s.s.

Julia was rather late, and in her hurry she placed her hat upon the nearest vacant peg, which happened to be Mabel Stanley's. Mabel entered at that moment, and seeing that her peg was occupied, quietly asked Julia to remove her hat. She did so with a very bad grace, and without saying a word hastened to join her companions in the schoolroom.

"How shamefully Julia Woburn treats that poor child!" said one of the elder girls who lingered in the cloak-room, "and I hear that it is simply because Mr. Stanley has failed in business."

"Yes," replied the other, "and what makes it more disgraceful is--that her own father was a bankrupt not very long ago!"

"Her father? Mr. Woburn? Surely you are mistaken!"

"No, indeed. Ethel Thompson brought the information this morning, and is quite full of it."

It so happened that Julia was returning to the cloak-room for a book which she had forgotten, when she heard her own name mentioned, and pausing for an instant on the threshold overheard all that was said.

She ran in and confronted the two girls, her eyes flashing and her heart beating fast, and exclaimed, "Did Ethel really say that? How dare she tell such an untruth!"

"Perhaps it was only a joke," said the girl who had spoken first.

"It is a slander, an insult, and I'll not stand it!" said Julia indignantly.

They reasoned with her and endeavoured to calm her, but only partially succeeded in soothing her before she returned to the schoolroom. Her face still wore an angry sullen expression, and she carefully avoided Ethel Thompson throughout the morning. Not one lesson could she say, and she begged to be excused her arithmetic and French on the plea of a severe headache.

After study hours, when the girls met in recess time, Julia proudly demanded of Ethel what she meant by spreading such false statements about her family; and Ethel replied that all she had said was true, and added that when she heard it she was no longer surprised at Julia's treatment of Mabel, but saw a reason for it.

Julia, finding that Ethel's report had gained credence among her school-fellows, was half wild with mortification and rage; and declaring that she would remain there no longer to be insulted, she dressed herself and went home, leaving her companions somewhat alarmed at the storm their foolish conversation had raised.

They had not reflected that one of the most fruitful sources of quarrels among school-girls is--silly gossip about their relatives and friends.

While Mr. and Mrs. Woburn were sitting at luncheon they were startled by hearing a violent knock at the door, and the next moment Julia, dressed in her walking attire, rushed into the room, regardless of everything but the one idea which possessed her mind, and exclaimed, "Father, tell me, did you ever fail? Were you ever a bankrupt?"

Mr. Woburn's face changed suddenly, and grew stern and pale.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because they have slandered you and insulted me at school, but I told them it was false."

"It _was_--true," said Mr. Woburn slowly, "but I fail to see what can have brought it up now."

"True!" cried Julia, bursting into tears, and sobbing hysterically.

"Then I can never go to Miss Elgin's again."

She threw herself upon the sofa, and for some minutes was unable to speak, so violent was her pa.s.sion and anger. In vain her father demanded an explanation of her strange behaviour, and her mother tried to calm and soothe her.

"Leave her to me," she said at last. "I am quite at a loss to understand the matter, but she will tell me when she is better."

Before the sobs had altogether subsided Ruth entered the room: for Miss Elgin, hearing of Julia's sudden departure, had imagined that her headache had increased, and at once despatched her cousin to follow her.

"Perhaps you can explain what has happened," said her aunt. "Why have the girls been talking of your uncle's business affairs?"

"Well, the fact is, auntie, that Mabel Stanley came to school yesterday, and Julia was cross and rude to her because her father has failed, and then the girls made up this tale to humble her, and she flew into a rage and came home."

"Now I understand. But the tale was true, nevertheless. Now, Julia dear, don't sob. I think I had better tell you all about it, that you may understand for yourselves.

"I think you know, Julia, that when your father started in life he had not much capital, and began business in a small way. But he did very well until there came a time of commercial depression, and a man who owed him a considerable sum of money died insolvent. Then your father found that he was so much embarra.s.sed that he thought the wisest and most honourable course would be to divide what he had amongst his creditors at once. He gave up everything to them, and was hesitating what he should do for a living. Just at that time my father died and left all his little property to me and my brother (your father, Ruth).

My money would not have been sufficient to start another business, but your father came to our help, and offered to lend his share of the money. Then my husband was able to start again, and prospered. All his creditors were paid in full long ago, and my brother's money was repaid with interest, though nothing, I am sure, can ever repay his kindness in lending it to us at that particular time, for I fear that he must have been straitened for years by his generous deed. Now you understand, Ruth, why I told you that everything I gave you had been more than paid for long ago, though I did not know that it would be necessary to tell you how."

Ruth was silent and thoughtful. Her aunt's words gave her the clue to many things which she had never been able to comprehend. She guessed now why her father sometimes looked regretfully at a large and excellent farm a short distance from his own.

"You ought to have taken that farm," she had once heard a neighbour remark to him.

"Ah! the time for that is gone by," was his reply.

She believed now that the opportunity of taking it had occurred while the money was embarked in her uncle's business, and that when it was free the farm and the family had soon absorbed it, for the land was not very good, and there had been several bad harvests lately.

"Why did you never tell me before?" asked Julia peevishly, from the sofa.

"Why, dear? Well, you know it is never pleasant to talk about our failures. Your father has not referred to the subject, even to me, for years, and I could see that he was exceedingly annoyed by your mention of it just now. You were but an infant at the time, and it is so long ago that it seemed to have been forgotten. But I have looked back sometimes since we have grown rich, and thought with pleasure of my brother's kindness."

"Still it is true," whined Julia, "and," she added pa.s.sionately, "I can never look at Ethel Thompson or any of the girls again."

"That is very silly," said her mother.

"Indeed I cannot--never--_never_, and I am the most wretched girl in England, and shall never be happy again!"

Her sobs were renewed with redoubled violence, and she looked really ill from vexation and pa.s.sion. Mrs. Woburn gave her some cooling medicine and persuaded her to go to bed.

But Ruth did not pity her cousin. She worked alone at her lessons that evening, and when the thought of Julia crossed her mind her lips tightened and she said to herself, "She deserves to be ill. She treated Mabel unkindly, and now it has come back to her, and she is suffering for it. Yes, she deserves it." And before she went to rest that night she read in her little Bible a few verses about the sin of pride, with a mental reference to Julia, and also some pa.s.sages concerning retribution, and wrong-doing coming home to the sinner.

She was not following in the footsteps of the Lord, who hates sin, yet loves the sinner, but thought only of her cousin's just punishment, and wondered how she would bear to meet all her school-fellows again. She was not cherishing the love that vaunteth not itself, that is not puffed up, that rejoiceth not in iniquity; the love that never faileth, and that covers a mult.i.tude of sins.

Was there not something of the spirit of the Pharisee in Ruth's heart?

Was she not beginning to sit in the seat of the scornful, and to look down upon her cousin from her superior position? Well, pride must have a fall, sooner or later, whether it be pride of position or pride of heart.

CHAPTER XIII.

HARD AT WORK.