10. A Quarrel
"It has been much easier than I thought," says Betty to herself, a week or two after her first back-yard meeting. The fourth has just been held, and the girls have taken to it wonderfully.
"Jennie and Pollie are improving steadily. How blind I have been! They were naughty and rough just for want of some interest in life--for the need of something to do. Jennie has hemmed two little pinafores already, and Pollie one; and the other girls have all done well--especially Minnie White. Ah, Minnie is a darling, a true Junior Soldier! Her example is just splendid for my sisters, and I am glad to see they are getting quite fond of her. This was a good idea of mine. I must tell Captain Scott about it. How pleased she will be! I really am managing much better. I really am beginning to make home happy and nice. What's that? Seven o'clock, and the accounts not touched yet! Mr. Duncan does work me hard. Oh, how glad I shall be when dear father comes home again! His leg is really getting stronger now, that's one comfort. What a grand day it will be when he leaves the hospital!"
Betty opens the account-books, and sighs as she looks down the long columns of figures.
"I only wish Bob would help me as he did at first. Where does he spend his evenings? I must say I do think it selfish of him to be from home so much, considering everything. Why, I believe that's his knock now! Perhaps he means to help me this evening, after all."
And she runs to open the door.
"O Bob, do come and look over the accounts!" she begins; then, catching sight of a long black case in his hand, "Why, Bob, what have you there?"
"Violin," says Bob, briefly, but with an air of great importance.
"A violin! Dear me, what use can that be to you?"
"I can learn to play like other people, I suppose?" answers Bob, tartly. "There, I haven't time to stand chattering! I am to try this violin to-night, and let the fellow it belongs to know if it suits me."
"Let what fellow know? O Bob, you surely haven't promised to buy that old fiddle?"
"Old fiddle, indeed! Mind your own business, miss, and leave me to mind mine!"
"I've enough to do, that's certain; and I suppose now you don't mean to help me with the accounts one bit?"
Bob only replies to this with a kind of grunt, and turns into the little front parlour, where the family generally sit now that the weather has grown so much hotter.
Betty follows, and sits down wearily to the account-books. Bob is evidently in an unreasonable frame of mind. Where did he get that violin? Has he promised to pay for it? If so, how will he obtain the money?
Meantime, Bob unrolls a sheet of music, marked, "Exercises for the Violin," props it upright on the table with the help of a few books, draws the violin and bow from the case, and places the instrument in position under his chin with what he considers quite a professional air. Then he takes up the bow and draws it lightly across the strings.
A horrible squeak is the result. Bob looks rather blank; Betty shudders. She has a keen ear for music, and such a discord gives her real pain.
"Out of tune," mutters Bob, and he screws up one of the little pegs to tighten the string; then he tries again. Another squeak, louder and more utterly jarring than before.
He repeats this process several times. Betty is tired and worried; she endures in silence for awhile, but suddenly her patience gives way altogether.
"Bob, what are you trying to do?" she cries sharply.
"I am tuning the violin; can't you hear?"
"Tuning! Why, you make a more abominable noise every time you touch it. What could have induced you to bring that wretched thing into the house?"
"That's it, abuse a thing you don't understand! It's a very good violin, only the strings are a bit worn. Of course, if I decide to have it, I shall get new ones."
"Worn--I should think they are! Look here, Bob, you don't mean to tell me that you're really going to buy that old thing?"
"I told you before, that is none of your business. If I choose to buy it, I shall, so don't give advice when it isn't wanted."
"But it is my business!" cries Betty, now thoroughly roused. "Who is to pay for it, I should like to know? Haven't I to work for the money to live on?--am I not trying to work for it now? And instead of helping me, as you ought, you make my head whirl round with that horrid old fiddle!"
Bob jumps up in a fury, and flings the violin into its case. "So this is the way a fellow is treated when he comes home to practise! It'll be long enough before I trouble you again, my lady, I can tell you! I've plenty of friends who understand music rather better than you do, and they tell me that I ought to learn, and would soon play very well. You used to say you wanted me to learn yourself. Now I see just how much your words are worth!"
And he closes the case with a loud snap, and flings out of the room.
In a moment Betty realises what she has done. She flies after him.
"Bob--Bob--stay one minute--I----"
The street door closes with a bang. Bob has gone.
Betty stands there, her head in a whirl. How did the miserable quarrel arise? Just after she had been feeling so happy about her success with the girls, too. Oh, what a wretched, wretched ending to the day!
Tired though she is, Betty cannot go to bed until Bob comes home. At last she hears his step, and flies to the door.
"O Bob, I didn't mean----" she begins eagerly, directly she sees him. But he pushes past her without a word, and, running upstairs, shuts himself in his own room.
Betty goes to her own room, too; but not to sleep. What can she do to make Bob understand how sorry she is for her hasty words, how much she wants to help him, how dearly she longs to win his confidence?
She goes over the brief scene between them, sentence by sentence, as nearly as she can remember it.
"Bob was certainly overbearing and unreasonable," she thinks, her anger reviving a little as she recalls his words. "Oh, but it was my place to help him to be better. I have promised to be the Lord's Soldier. I should have been wiser and stronger than he--and I wasn't, not one bit! I lost my temper. I made no effort to check myself."
These are sad thoughts for poor Betty; but it is often through just such a sense of failure and shortcoming, through just such self-reproaches as hers to-night, that the Lord renews our strength. No spiritual blessing is so full of power as that which follows a time of humiliation. In distrusting ourselves we learn to put a more perfect trust in Him.
Bob still wears an air of deep injury at breakfast next morning. He answers all Betty's rather timid remarks with "Yes" or "No," and seems even to take trouble to show that all confidence between them is at an end.
Sick at heart, Betty starts out on her weary round of rent-collecting. Her sorrow is heavy upon her, and she walks with drooping head and unheeding eyes.
"Bob is wrong to bear malice like this," she thinks. "If he won't listen to anything I have to say, how can I ever make things right between us again? Would it be right for me to go and ask his pardon? It is plain that unless I do something he means to have a grievance against me. Oh, dear, I just feel no heart for my work or anything while things are like this! Lord, do lift the burden, do show me what to do! Do help me to put a stop to the mischief my foolish words have caused."
"The Captain!"
Suddenly turning a corner, Betty's eyes fall upon a little group gathered round a doorstep not twenty yards away.
Three or four shabby little children and Captain Janet Scott. The Captain talking to them, with all that tenderness and loving sympathy that they have never had from their own mothers, poor mites, and for which their baby hearts are craving; the children looking up into her face with eager eyes.
The Captain! Just an accidental meeting in a dull and dirty street; but to Betty it is as though the Lord had sent one of His own bright angel-messengers straight from Heaven to help her!
She runs towards her eagerly; the Captain looks up, and turns to greet her young friend with a welcoming smile.
"Betty Langdale! My dear, I have been hoping every day to meet you."
"O Captain, I am so miserable! I've been so foolish, so wicked; I've made a dreadful mistake, and I don't know how to put it right. Do, do tell me what I ought to do!"
Captain Scott takes the girl's trembling hand, and looks attentively at her pale face and the dark rings under her eyes. Then she kisses the shabby little children all round, promising to come again soon, and, turning again to Betty, slips her hand through the girl's arm, and begins to walk slowly up the street.
"Tell me your trouble, dear. Perhaps it is not so bad as you suppose," she says, gently.
"Oh, but it is!" and Betty pours out the sad little story of her quarrel and its consequences. She does not spare herself; as nearly as she can recollect she repeats her exact words.
"You have been to the Lord about this, Betty?" asks the Captain, gravely.
"Oh, yes, I've prayed and prayed, and sometimes it seems as though I ought to beg Bob's pardon; but then, you know, he should not buy a violin just now, no matter how cheap it is--we can't afford anything, and he was wrong to worry me when I was doing the accounts, wasn't he?"
"Certainly he seems to have acted rather selfishly and unreasonably. But, Betty, you must remember that he does not know this. If you really mean to help your brother, you will have to teach him to understand many things that are dark to him now. Then, too, dear, you must learn to put yourself in his place. He had evidently been dwelling a good deal on the thought that you would think it very clever of him to learn the violin. Boy-like, he had most likely forgotten the family troubles for the moment, and was trying to 'show off' before you. You had once said you wished him to learn, and no doubt he now thinks you very unkind and changeable because you discourage him."
"But, Captain, just think--father in the hospital, all the accounts and rent-collecting to do, no money scarcely----"
"Yes, yes, but Bob has not thought of all that. He has never heard the Lord's voice calling him. He lives in a world of his own. You must learn to get into his world, to read his thoughts, to make him feel that in you he has a real friend. Step by step, dear, you must lead him to his Saviour."
"But he won't listen. He'll hardly answer when I speak!"
"My dear, it is that very barrier between you which you must find a way to break down."
"Oh, Captain! how? How can I make Bob understand that I want to help him?" asks Betty almost despairingly.
"Perhaps you could show some interest in his music. Do you play at all yourself?"
"The piano--just a little."
"And, evidently, you have a good ear. Couldn't you offer to show him how to get his violin in tune?"
Betty shakes her head. "I'm afraid he's much too vexed to let me try. Oh, wait! I've thought of something. Couldn't I buy him a new violin-string? I believe one snapped just before we had that wretched quarrel. It would only cost a few pence, I should think."
"Well, my child, I must leave all that to you. Do what you can to make up for your share in the dispute; only be sure to show Bob that he must not act selfishly; that he certainly ought to deny himself any amusement, however good in itself it may be, that would take money which is needed at home.
"Speak quietly to him, dear. Remember the Lord's words: 'If thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone; if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother.'
"Ah! Betty, this is your first real attempt to lead some one you love to think of higher things. God grant you may become a real soul-winner one day!
"Be very prayerful, very loving, very wise. Use all the faculties the Lord has given you, give your whole self to His service, and trust Him! God bless you! I shall pray for you and for your brother too," and Captain Janet clasps Betty's hand warmly and leaves her.
What a change the Captain's words have wrought in Betty's thoughts! She is no longer conscious of a heavy burden, for all her heart is filled with courage and eager hopefulness.
A soul-winner! Does Captain really think she may be that one day? Oh, how beautiful--how wonderful! A flood of joy, pure and sweet, rushes over her heart at the thought. Never, even with dear Grannie, even among the breezy moors, and blue hills, and clear skies of Grannie's home, has she felt a delight so intense. It is, indeed, as though she had caught a glimpse of Heaven.
Ah! what does it matter though she does live in a dull, city street; though her days must be spent in common-place work? It is the Lord alone who can give true happiness, and to none who serve Him in spirit and in truth does He deny His gift.
"Bob, is this the right kind of string? You wanted a new one, I know. The woman at the shop said it would most likely be the E string that required renewing."
Bob, taken completely off his guard, looks up eagerly from his tea and bread and butter. "Yes, that's it; that's just what I----" He stops short, suddenly remembering his determination never to speak of his violin to Betty again.
"It is right? Now I call that fortunate," goes on Betty, quietly. "I expect you know how to put it in, don't you, Bob?"
Bob melts still further at this. "Oh, yes; Mr. Wright, one of the teachers at my school, showed me how to put strings in. It's easy enough."
"Ah! but I've heard father say that it's very difficult to get a violin in tune after fitting in a new string."
Bob's face clouds over again; but Betty hastens to add, "Couldn't I help you a bit with the tuning? Couldn't I sound the notes on the piano while you screwed up the string--surely, that is the way people generally do tune violins?"
"Yes; but----"
"But what, Bob, dear?"
"You've got those accounts to do, or something."
"Oh, I've done for to-day. Come, I shall enjoy it, not the music, just yet, perhaps, but I should enjoy helping you, Bob."
Bob makes no answer to this; but directly tea is finished he runs upstairs for the violin-case, and the brother and sister are soon seated together before the shabby little piano.
For the next half-hour there is little heard between them, save--"Too sharp, Bob." "A little lower still." "I say, Betty, give us the octave of that note," and so on. At last the instrument is really in tune, and then the pair try an exercise together, with fairly good results. Bob is delighted.
"Why, Betty, this is first-class! Mr. Wright said I ought to get some one to play with me."
"I should just love to do it, Bob."
There is a long pause. Betty feels she ought to say something more, but doesn't know how to begin.
"A little lower still.""I say, Betty"--Bob is speaking in quite a different tone of voice now--"I say, you didn't really think I meant to buy the violin, did you?"
"Why, Bob, didn't you say so?"
"No; I said I'd take it if it suited me. Charlie Wright--my teacher's boy, you know--wanted to change it away for my old camera."
"O Bob, I'm so glad--so very, very glad. Oh, why didn't you tell me before?"
"I meant to; but you took a fellow up so."
"Ah! I see just how it all happened. You must remember that I feel so anxious about every penny while father is away, and, Bob, I do want us all to think for one another, and--and"--Betty makes a great effort--"and try to live just as the Lord would have us live, Bob."
Dead silence. Betty's heart beats rapidly. Then come the most unexpected words she has ever heard in her life.
"You do try."
"Bob! O Bob, don't say that. I don't deserve it!"
"Yes, you do, Betty. Do you think I haven't seen you trying? Come, come, old girl, don't cry."
"No--no, Bob; only I'm so happy. I----" Betty cannot trust her voice just now to pronounce another word.