THE very first day that I came to school, I hung over my bed the beautiful card that mother gave me, and oh, how many times I have looked at it since! It has helped me very often indeed to know what was right, and has kept me many times from doing what I ought not to do.
I think mother would like to know that I kept the promise I made her that last night, so I will try in my little journal to write an account of some of the times when I was helped by thinking of the question on the card : ‘WHAT WOULD JESUS DO ?’
I think the first time was the Sunday after I arrived, and when I had only been two days at school. Sunday used to be such a happy day at home ; mother taught us to love it better than any day in the week. And I am sure Miss Maynard tries to make it a happy day at school, and when she is with us, everything is so nice and quiet, and all goes on well ; but as soon as she goes downstairs the girls begin to chatter and laugh, and to make so much noise, that to read or to think seems impossible.
Mother had begged me, before she went away, never to forget that Sunday was God’s day, on which we must not speak our own words, or do our own work, or take our own pleasure, but on which we must think of Him, and speak of Him, and which we must spend in His service. I got up on the morning of that first Sunday, longing to spend the day as mother would like me to spend it.
But when I went downstairs I found it would not be very easy to do so. The girls were all sitting in a circle round the fire with the French governess.
‘No French today, Olive,’ said Flora Morton; as I came into the room. ‘Come here and get warm. We may talk English all day long.’
Oh, how fast their tongues went, and how much they laughed ! I felt very uncomfortable ; I did not join in the conversation more than I could help, but it was very difficult not to do so, for they thought I was shy, and kept speaking to me to make me talk.
After a little time, Mademoiselle said, ‘Now we will all give our recollections of the holidays ; we will tell each our story in the turn. Flora, you are the first on that side of the fire ; you will begin. You will tell us how you have passed your holidays, what sort of parties you have had, what you have seen ; all that sort of thing that is amusing. Come, Flora, you will begin.’
So Flora began with a description of a ball that had taken place in Christmas week, and then she went on to tell of some private theatricals she had acted in, and all the rest asked her questions, and laughed, and seemed very much interested and amused.
I felt miserable. It was God’s day, God’s holy day, and I was spending it like this! I opened my Bible, which I had brought downstairs in my hand, though of course I could not read; but I wanted to show them that I did not care to join in what they were doing.
‘Oh, don’t learn your verses yet,’ said Maria ; ‘there will be plenty of time for that when the first breakfast bell rings, and Miss Maynard is never cross on Sundays!’
I closed the book, for of course it would seem a mere pretense to say I was reading, but, as I did so, it flashed across my mind that I should be called upon to tell my story next. I was sitting next Flora, and Mademoiselle had said we were each to speak in turn.
Flora was getting to the end of her adventures. What should I do ? Should I join in helping to amuse them ? If not, they would think me so ill-natured and unkind, and perhaps they would laugh at me. What ought I to do ?
I thought of my motto: ‘What would Jesus do ?’ ‘Oh, I know what Jesus would do, I said to myself. He would do what He felt was right, and not mind a bit what anybody said or thought about Him. When He was on earths He was often laughed at, and had many unpleasant remarks made about Him, but He was never afraid of anything but sin.’ I asked Jesus in my heart to help me to follow in His steps.
Almost immediately after this Flora said, ‘There, Mademoiselle, that is all. I have finished my adventures.’
‘That is altogether charming, Flora,’ said Mademoiselle. ‘Your histories are quite amusing. Now we will hear what Miss—Misswhat is her name ? I am quite forgetful of all these English names.’
‘Olive Stewart,’ said Maria. ‘I think it is such a pretty name!’
‘Charming!’ said Mademoiselle. ‘Now, Miss Olive Stewart, will you please to commence ?’
I felt it very difficult to refuse. Mademoiselle is quite young, only four years older than I am ; but still she is our teacher, and mother told me she hoped I should always be very obedient and respectful to all those who took the trouble to teach me. I asked God to help me to say the right words.
‘I don’t think I have anything very interesting to tell, Mademoiselle,’ I said ‘we had quite different pleasures at home from those you are talking about. We were very happy, and yet we never went to dances or theatres, or that sort of thing. I do not think you would care to hear about my holidays.’
‘Oh yes, we should,’ said Mademoiselle. ‘Come, tell us. It will be a variety, which is charming, to hear of pleasures which are not dances, not theatricals, and not that sort of thing. Come. I am sure you can make an amusing history for us,’ said Mademoiselle pleasantly.
‘May I tell you about it tomorrow, Mademoiselle?’ I asked. ‘I should like that so much better!’
‘And why tomorrow, if you please,’ said Mademoiselle impatiently, ‘when I ask to have it now? Tomorrow we have the lessons, we have the exercises, we have the lectures from the masters. Tomorrow we have not time to talk. Come, Olive, begin.’
‘Please, I would rather not,’ I said. ‘Don’t think I want to be stupid about it, I will tell you anything tomorrow.’
‘I would like to know why you’re so disobliging,’ said Mademoiselle. ‘Tell us your reason, if you please.’
‘I had rather not speak of all these things on Sunday.’
The girls began to laugh.
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Flora. ‘I never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.’
‘I see,’ said Mademoiselle, ‘She thinks herself very good, this Miss Olive! Well, we shall see—we shall see ; perhaps it will not last so long, this goodness of hers!’
‘I would not sit too near her, Flora, if I were you,’ said Mary Conder; ‘you will disturb her in her devotions!’
‘She had better go into the next room, if she is going to be disagreeable,’ said Flora.
‘Yes; go, if you please,’ said Mademoiselle.
I took up my Bible and obeyed, only too glad to do so. There was no fire in the smaller room, but I chose a place where the sun was streaming in at the window, and opened my Bible to read.
I was turning over the leaves, when these words caught my eye : And they cast him out. Jesus heard that they had cast him out and when He had found him, He said unto him, ‘Dost thou believe on the Son of God ?’
I read the whole story of the blind man, and how they turned him out because he spoke a word for Jesus, who had done so much for him. ‘And Jesus found him.’ I wondered if He would find me in the cold schoolroom. I thought He would.