Aunt Judys Tales | Page 8

wonderful stranger lady did something to cure
them of that, and, in fact, proved a sort of Aunt Judy to them; for she
explained things in such a very entertaining manner, that they actually
began to think the matter over; and then they left off being stupid and
unthankful.
"But this reminds me," added Aunt Judy, "that you--tiresome No. 6--
have spoilt my story after all! I had not half got to the end of the
miseries. For instance, there was the TAKING-CARE misery, in
consequence of which the little Victims were sent out to play on a fine
day, and kept in when it was stormy and wet, all because those stupid
keepers were more anxious to keep them well in health than to please
them at the moment.
"And then there was--above all--" here Aunt Judy became very
impressive, "the WASHING misery, which consisted in their being
obliged to make themselves clean and comfortable with soap and water
whenever they happened to be dirty, whether with playing at knuckle-
bones on the floor, or anything else, and which was considered SO
HARD that--"
But here a small hand was laid on Aunt Judy's mouth, and a gentle
voice said, "Stop, Aunt Judy, now!" on which the rest shouted, "Stop!
stop! we won't hear any more," in chorus, until all at once, in the midst
of the din, there sounded outside the door the ominous knocking, which
announced the hour of repose to the juvenile branches of the family.
It was a well-known summons, but on this occasion produced rather an
unusual effect. First, there was a sudden profound silence, and pause of
several seconds; then an interchange of glances among the little ones;
then a breaking out of involuntary smiles upon several young faces;
and at last a universal "Good-night, Aunt Judy!" very quietly and
demurely spoken.
"If the little Victims were only here to see how YOU behave over the
GOING-TO-BED misery, what a lesson it would be!" suggested Aunt
Judy, with a mischievous smile.

"Ah, yes, yes, we know, we know!" was the only reply, and it came
from No. 8, who took advantage of being the youngest to be more
saucy than the rest.
Aunt Judy now led the little party into the drawing-room to bid their
father and mother good-night too. And certainly when the door was
opened, and they saw how bright and cosy everything looked, in the
light of the fire and the lamps, with mamma at the table, wide awake
and smiling, they underwent a fearful twinge of the GOING-TO-BED
misery. But they checked all expression of their feelings. Of course,
mamma asked what Aunt Judy's story had been about, and heard; and
heard, too, No. 6's little trouble lest she should have been guilty of the
sin of real ingratitude; and, of course, mamma applauded Aunt Judy's
explanation about the want of thought, very much indeed.
"But, mamma," said No. 6 to her mother, "Aunt Judy said something
about grown-up people having to learn to be thankful. Surely you and
papa never cry for nonsense, and things you can't have?"
"Ah, my darling No. 6," cried mamma earnestly, "grown-up people
may not CRY for what they want exactly, but they are just as apt to
wish for what they cannot have, as you little ones are. For instance,
grown-up people would constantly like to have life made easier and
more agreeable to them, than God chooses it to be. They would like to
have a little more wealth, perhaps, or a little more health, or a little
more rest, or that their children should always be good and clever, and
well and happy. And while they are thinking and fretting about the
things they want, they forget to be thankful for those they have. I am
often tempted in this way myself, dear No. 6; so you see Aunt Judy is
right, and the lesson of learning to be thankful never ends, even for
grown-up people.
"One other word before you go. I dare say you little ones think we
grown-up people are quite independent, and can do just as we like. But
it is not so. We have to learn to submit to the will of the great Keeper of
Heaven and earth, without understanding it, just as Aunt Judy's little
Victims had to submit to their keepers without knowing why. So thank
Aunt Judy for her story, and let us all do our best to be obedient and
contented."
"When I am old enough, mother," remarked No. 7, in his peculiarly
mild and deliberate way of speaking, and smiling all the time, "I think I

shall put Aunt Judy into a story. Don't you think she would make a
capital Ogre's wife, like the one in 'Jack and the Bean-