and she took down a thick book, which seemed half-full of writing,
and opened at a page on which there was one word at the top.
“Why, that’s my name!” cried Nat, looking both surprised and
interested.
“Yes; I have a page for each boy. I keep a little account of how he
gets on through the week, and Sunday night I show him the record.
If it is bad I am sorry and disappointed, if it is good I am glad and
proud; but, whichever it is, the boys know I want to help them, and
they try to do their best for love of me and Father Bhaer.”
“I should think they would,” said Nat, catching a glimpse of
Tommy’s name opposite his own, and wondering what was written
under it.
Mrs. Bhaer saw his eye on the words, and shook her head, saying,
as she turned a leaf
“No, I don’t show my records to any but the one to whom each
belongs. I call this my conscience book; and only you and I will
ever know what is to be written on the page below your name.
Whether you will be pleased or ashamed to read it next Sunday
depends on yourself. I think it will be a good report; at any rate, I
shall try to make things easy for you in this new place, and shall be
quite contented if you keep our few rules, live happily with the
boys, and learn something.”
“I’ll try ma’am;” and Nat’s thin face flushed up with the earnestness
of his desire to make Mrs. Bhaer “glad and proud,” not “sorry and
disappointed.” “It must be a great deal of trouble to write about so
many,” he added, as she shut her book with an encouraging pat on
the shoulder.
“Not to me, for I really don’t know which I like best, writing or
boys,” she said, laughing to see Nat stare with astonishment at the
last item. “Yes, I know many people think boys are a nuisance, but
that is because they don’t understand them. I do; and I never saw
the boy yet whom I could not get on capitally with after I had once
found the soft spot in his heart. Bless me, I couldn’t get on at all
without my flock of dear, noisy, naughty, harum-scarum little lads,
could I, my Teddy?” and Mrs. Bhaer hugged the young rogue, just
in time to save the big inkstand from going into his pocket.
Nat, who had never heard anything like this before, really did not
know whether Mother Bhaer was a trifle crazy, or the most
delightful woman he had ever met. He rather inclined to the latter
opinion, in spite of her peculiar tastes, for she had a way of filling
up a fellow’s plate before he asked, of laughing at his jokes, gently
tweaking him by the ear, or clapping him on the shoulder, that Nat
found very engaging.
“Now, I think you would like to go into the school-room and
practise some of the hymns we are to sing to-night,” she said,
rightly guessing the thing of all others that he wanted to do.
Alone with the beloved violin and the music-book propped up
before him in the sunny window, while Spring beauty filled the
world outside, and Sabbath silence reigned within, Nat enjoyed an
hour or two of genuine happiness, learning the sweet old tunes,
and forgetting the hard past in the cheerful present.
When the church-goers came back and dinner was over, every one
read, wrote letters home, said their Sunday lessons, or talked
quietly to one another, sitting here and there about the house. At
three o’clock the entire family turned out to walk, for all the active
young bodies must have exercise; and in these walks the active
young minds were taught to see and love the providence of God in
the beautiful miracles which Nature was working before their eyes.
Mr. Bhaer always went with them, and in his simple, fatherly way,
found for his flock, “Sermons in stones, books in the running
brooks, and good in everything.”
Mrs. Bhaer with Daisy and her own two boys drove into town, to