good cause? You said yesterday that you were going to make it a
principle of your life, to help up your sex as far and as fast as you
could. It did my heart good to hear you say it, for I was sure that in
time you would keep your word. But, Polly, a principle that can’t
bear being laughed at, frowned on, and cold-shouldered, is n’t
worthy of the name.”
“I want to be strong-minded in the real sense of the word, but I
don’t like to be called so by people who don’t understand my
meaning; and I shall be if I try to make the girls think soberly
about anything sensible or philanthropic. They call me
old-fashioned now, and I ‘d rather be thought that, though it is n’t
pleasant, than be set down as a rampant woman’s rights reformer,”
said Polly, in whose memory many laughs, and snubs, and
sarcasms still lingered, forgiven but not forgotten.
“This love and thought and care for those weaker, poorer, or worse
than ourselves, which we call Christian charity, is a very old
fashion, my dear. It began eighteen hundred years ago, and only
those who honestly follow the beautiful example set us then, learn
how to get genuine happiness out of life. I ‘m not a ‘rampant
woman’s rights reformer,'” added Miss Mills, with a smile at
Polly’s sober face; “but I think that women can do a great deal for
each other, if they will only stop fearing what ‘people will think,’
and take a hearty interest in whatever is going to fit their sisters
and themselves to deserve and enjoy the rights God gave them.
There are so many ways in which this can be done, that I wonder
they don’t see and improve them. I don’t ask you to go and make
speeches, only a few have the gift for that, but I do want every girl
and woman to feel this duty, and make any little sacrifice of time
or feeling that may be asked of them, because there is so much to
do, and no one can do it as well as ourselves, if we only think so.”
“I ‘ll try!” said Polly, influenced more by her desire to keep Miss
Mills’ good opinion than any love of self-sacrifice for her sex. It
was rather a hard thing to ask of a shy, sensitive girl, and the kind
old lady knew it, for in spite of the gray hair and withered face, her
heart was very young, and her own girlish trials not forgotten. But
she knew also that Polly had more influence over others than she
herself suspected, simply because of her candid, upright nature;
and that while she tried to help others, she was serving herself in a
way that would improve heart and soul more than any mere social
success she might gain by following the rules of fashionable life,
which drill the character out of girls till they are as much alike as
pins in a paper, and have about as much true sense and sentiment
in their little heads. There was good stuff in Polly, unspoiled as
yet, and Miss Mills was only acting out her principle of women
helping each other. The wise old lady saw that Polly had reached
that point where the girl suddenly blooms into a woman, asking
something more substantial than pleasure to satisfy the new
aspirations that are born; a time as precious and important to the
after-life, as the hour when the apple blossoms fall, and the young
fruit waits for the elements to ripen or destroy the harvest.
Polly did not know this, and was fortunate in possessing a friend
who knew what influences would serve her best, and who could
give her what all women should desire to give each other, the
example of a sweet, good life, more eloquent and powerful than
any words; for this is a right no one can deny us.
Polly turned the matter over in her mind as she dressed, while
Jenny played waiting maid, little dreaming what this new friend
was meaning to do for her, if she dared.
“Is it going to be a tea-party, Miss?” asked Jenny, as the black silk