HOW anxiously we all looked forward to the examination at the end of the term! Most of us worked so hard the last week, that we were seldom to be seen without a book in our hands; we allowed ourselves no time at all for amusement, and every night we carefully counted the days which must pass before the examination began.
And at last the day arrived, and a very exciting day it was. There were very few of us who could eat any breakfast that morning, and I felt cold and sick as I went into the schoolroom, to take my place at the table, and to wait for Miss Maynard’s entrance with the examination papers. But I thought of a little rhyme mother had sent me in her last letter, because I had told her how much I feared I should not be first in anything.
‘Do your best. Leave the rest,’ mother had said. And she told me that the Lord just requires His children to make every effort they can to do their work well in His sight, and that then they must leave the result trustfully in His hands.
The examination lasted a whole week, and we were all very tired when it was over. No one talked of anything else the whole time. Little groups of girls used to be seen in the schoolroom in the evening, telling each other what questions they had answered, and what they had left unanswered, and Fiat they had answered wrong, and discussing who would be first in the various subjects and in the different classes. There seemed no doubt in any one’s mind that Mary Conder would carry off nearly all the prizes in our class, and every one said it seemed a great shame, for she never worked a bit, and even this examination week, when we had all been so busy, she had found time to read a new storybook, and to amuse herself in several ways.
We were not to hear the result of the examination till the Wednesday in the following week ; there was to be a grand party then, in honour of the occasion. Miss Maynard invited all her friends, and she allowed the girls to invite any of their friends who could come, to see the prizes given away. Miss Maynard allowed me to invite Mrs. D’Aubrey as my friend, and to my great joy she accepted the invitation.
We had no lessons at all on the Monday and Tuesday of that week, but spent both days in preparing for the grand entertainment. We decorated the two schoolrooms most beautifully with blue, and pink, and black, and silver, and gold paper, cut into different devices, and with wreaths of flowers, basketfuls of which we gathered in the woods across the river. There was a raised platform put up at one end of the room, covered with crimson cloth, and here there were placed seats for all the visitors, and a small table, on which the prizes were to stand.
We were all very full of spirits when Wednesday morning came—all of us except poor Mary Conder. She had been caught in a very heavy shower the day before, as she was gathering flowers in the wood, and had come home wet through. Miss Maynard made her change her clothes at once, and hoped that she would be no worse for it; but in the middle of the night Mary was seized with a dreadful pain in her chest and side; she could not move at all, and could scarcely breathe. One of the girls in her room fetched Miss Maynard, and she sent for the doctor. He said Mary must stay in bed for several days, and indeed she could not have got up, even if he had given her leave, for the pain caught her very violently whenever she moved.
Poor girl, it was very trying for her, for she heard us all running up and down stairs, and bustling about to get everything ready for the evening, and she had to lie still, and could not join in any of the fun. It made her very cross and unhappy, and she would hardly speak to any of the girls who went into her room.
As I was dressing, before going downstairs to await the arrival of the company, I thought a great deal about poor Mary, and how sad and desolate it would be for her to be in bed alone all that long evening, and to hear the singing, and the clapping, and the laughing downstairs, and not to be able to join in it. I felt as if I ought to ask to stay with her, and try to make the time pass a little more pleasantly for her. And yet—and yet—oh dear I it would be such a disappointment to me to be away from all the excitements of that pleasant evening; for after the prizes were given away, we were to spend the rest of the day in playing games, and in amusements of various kinds.
‘Oh no, I could not miss all that,’ I said to myself. I had been looking forward to it for so long. And, after all, Mary Cornier was so disagreeable, that perhaps she would hardly thank me if I denied myself to stay with her. I did not think I was obliged to disappoint myself so much for her sake, for she had never been kind or obliging to me, or to anyone else.
But, as I turned round to take my dress off the bed, my eye fell on the motto: ‘WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?’ and I thought Melville’s school motto answered the question for me: ‘EVEN CHRIST PLEASED NOT HIMSELF.’ I had a hard struggle with myself, and then I determined to ask Miss Maynard to allow me to stay with Mary. She did not seem willing to consent at first, for she said she wanted me so much to enjoy myself that evening, because (she was kind enough to say) I had worked hard, and well deserved a treat. But when I told her I could not be happy if I remembered poor Mary lying in such pain in bed, she gave me leave to go upstairs to her as soon as the prizes were given away, and to stay with her for the rest of the evening. I thought I would go into Mary’s room to tell her this as I went downstairs.
‘What do you want?’ she said crossly, as I opened the door. ‘Why do you girls keep coming in and out? Can’t you let me be quiet?’
‘Mary,’ I said, ‘I thought you would be so lonely tonight, and I wanted to stop with you all the time; but Miss Maynard says I must be there when the prizes are given away, so I am coming upstairs directly after, and we will have such a nice time together.’
‘Oh no, you must not do that, Olive,’ she said in quite a different voice.
‘Why not?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it is too good of you; I could not hear of it.’ But I gave her a kiss, and told her to look out for me at half-past seven. And then I went downstairs, and, to my great delight, my dear Mrs. D’Aubrey had arrived, and I had a pleasant little talk with her whilst the other visitors were assembling.
I felt so happy and light-hearted, because I had conquered myself, and tried to follow my Lord’s footsteps. And if ever a selfish thought came into my mind, as the girls talked of the games and fun with which the evening’s entertainment was to end, I said to myself the last two lines of Melville’s hymn:
‘Jesus, my Lord, oh, may I be,
each day, each moment, more like Him.’