trials and tribulations,” answered his mother, looking at the fire as
if it helped her to spin her little story. “Well, the poor child used to
sing sometimes to while away the long hours–sad songs mostly,
and one among them which the queen taught her was ‘Sweet
Patience, Come.’
“This she used to sing a great deal after a while, never dreaming
that Patience was an angel who could hear and obey. But it was so;
and one night, when the girl had lulled herself to sleep with that
song, the angel came. Nobody saw the lovely spirit with tender
eyes, and a voice that was like balm. No one heard the rustle of
wings as she hovered over the little bed and touched the lips, the
eyes, the hands of the sleeper, and then flew away, leaving three
gifts behind. The girl did not know why, but after that night the
songs grew gayer, there seemed to be more sunshine everywhere
her eyes looked, and her hands were never tired of helping others
in various pretty, useful, or pleasant ways. Slowly the wild bird
ceased to beat against the bars, but sat in its cage and made music
for all in the palace, till the queen could not do without it, the poor
mother cheered up, and the princes called the girl their
nightingale.”
“Was that the miracle?” asked Jack, forgetting all about his
slippers, as he watched Jill’s eyes brighten and the color come up
in her white cheeks.
“That was the miracle, and Patience can work far greater ones if
you will let her.”
“And the girl’s name was Lucy?”
“Yes; they did not call her a saint then, but she was trying to be as
cheerful as a certain good woman she had heard of, and so the
queen had that name for her, though she did not let her know it for
a long time.”
“That’s not bad for a Sunday story, but there might have been more
about the princes, seems to me,” was Frank’s criticism, as Jill lay
very still, trying to hide her face behind the carnation, for she had
no words to tell how touched and pleased she was to find that her
little efforts to be good had been seen, remembered, and now
rewarded in this way.
There is more.
“Then the story isn’t done?” cried Jack.
“Oh dear, no; the most interesting things are to come, if you can
wait for them.”
“Yes, I see, this is the moral part. Now keep still, and let us have
the rest,” commanded Frank, while the others composed
themselves for the sequel, suspecting that it was rather nice,
because Mamma’s sober face changed, and her eyes laughed as
they looked at the fire.
“The elder prince was very fond of driving dragons, for the people
of that country used these fiery monsters as horses.”
“And got run away with, didn’t he?” laughed Jack, adding, with
great interest, “What did the other fellow do?”
“He went about fighting other people’s battles, helping the poor,
and trying to do good. But he lacked judgment, so he often got into
trouble, and was in such a hurry that he did not always stop to find
out the wisest way. As when he gave away his best coat to a beggar
boy, instead of the old one which he intended to give.
“I say, that isn’t fair, mother! Neither of them was new, and the boy
needed the best more than I’d id, and I wore the old one all winter,
didn’t I?” asked Jack, who had rather exulted over Frank, and was
now taken down himself.
“Yes, you did, my dear; and it was not an easy thing for my
dandiprat to do. Now listen, and I’ll tell you how they both learned
to be wiser. The elder prince soon found that the big dragons were
too much for him, and set about training his own
little one, who now and then ran away with him. Its name was
Will, a good servant, but a bad master; so he learned to control it,
and in time this gave him great power over himself, and fitted him