THE FALSE BALANCE.
Two little girls, in the early morning of an October day, were dressing in a sleepy fashion, or rather one of them was dressing, and the other sat on the side of the bed, looking at her.
"There," said Bess impatiently,
"Now that shoestring must go and break, and I know the bell's just going to ring. Turn over the leaf, Gussie, so we can be learning the text while we do our hair." Gussie got up on to the bed, and turned over the releaf on a roll of texter" which hung on the wall, and then stood a minute, reading it to herself.
"Why don't you hurry" said Bess, looking up at her; "you'll be late. My! What a text to pick out for folks: 'A false balance is an abomination unto the Lord.' Seems to me if I were to print those verses, I'd find some that had some sense to 'em."
"Why, Bessie Maynard, that's in the Bible! How dare you to talk so!" said Gussie, with wide open eyes.
"Well, I don't mean just that way, of course. I mean sense for everybody. You know yourself there's a difference. There's verses about wives, and husbands, and ministers, and—and grandmothers; and they don't fit everybody. I should think that verse was meant for grocery men that don't weigh things right; and I just wish they had to learn it."
"It's easy to learn, anyhow," said Gussie, "only I like to think about my verse. Some of them seem made on purpose for me, like 'Diligent in business,' and Whatsoever thy hand. "Yes," said Bess, in a satisfied manner, "you are so slow, Gussie, and such a put-offer; but there isn't a thing in this verse to think about."
There was a little silence, for Bessie was brushing her thick, curly locks, and it took all her patience to struggle through the tangles.
"That's because you didn't brush it out last night," said Gussie.
"I s'pose so!! But it is such a bother. Dear me! I'm just going to braid it this way; I can't stop!'
"Oh, Bessie! You know mamma won't like it; and it spoils your hair," said Gussie.
"It'll do for once," said Bess;" "it looks all right, anyhow."
"I wonder"—began Gussie, and then suddenly stopped.
"What?" inquired Bess.
"I didn't know—I thought, maybe, that might be what the text meant, " said Gussie, slowly; " sort of half doing things; not giving quite so much as you pretend to"—Gussie stopped, afraid of offending her sister, of whom she stood greatly in awe; but Bess only laughed, as she answered, "You do think of the queerest things, Gussie."
That was what they all said of Gussie, but she kept on thinking. It was her day to dust the parlors. "I'll help you," said Bess, "and then you'll get through so we can go for chestnuts." "But you don't do the corners, Bessie, and you haven't moved any of the books," said Gussie, as she watched her sister's rapid whisks of the duster.
"What's the difference?" said Bess; "it looks all right; you s'pose anybody's going to peek around after a speck of dust? There, now, that's done."
But Gussie, with the thought of that false balance in her head, kept on until the work was thoroughly done, saying to herself, " If I pretend to give mamma a pound of work, and only give her half a pound, I'm sure that's a deceitful balance."
The next thing in order was to pick over the grapes for jelly, and even patient Gussie sighed over the big basket; but, as usual, Bessie's part was done long before hers.
"I wish you could learn to be a little more nimble with your fingers, Gussie," said her mother; and Bessie added, in an undertone, "It's cause you fuss so; s'posin' a bad grape does go in now and then, who's going to know it when they're all smashed up?"
"I don't care," said Gussie, feeling a little touched by her mother's remarks. "I shan't have any false balances about my work, 'cause the Lord can tell a bad grape if it is smashed up, and it isn't the grape that matters, it's putting it in. "Only one thing more stood between the little girls and the holiday excursion for chestnuts. The history lesson must be learned for Monday, and then they would be as free as the birds. "How I hate it," said Gussie, "stupid, dry stuff. I don't see any use in knowing it, anyhow."
"I'll tell you what," said Bess, "let's begin about the middle, because the first of it never does come to us."
"And then," said Gussie, "Miss Marcy will s'pose we know the beginning."
"Yes," nodded Bess. "I'm going to finish in half an hour—'On account of these things it was plainly impossible—'"
"But we don't know what things," said Gussie.
"No, and I don't care."
"And if Miss Marcy s'poses we know, and gives us credit, it'll be a deceitful balance, 'cause we make her think we know a pound when we only know half a pound." Bessie's face flushed a little. "I just wish Gussie Maynard, you wouldn't talk any more about that grocery man's text. It's just nonsense. trying to make it fit us."
But after all, Bessie did not feel quite comfortable, and she went back and learned the beginning of her lesson.
"There," she said, "that's good, full weight, and I don't intend to be a 'bomination anymore."
Selected.