33
Pleasures, Tribulations, and Triumphs
The following Friday afternoon, while Carrie Raymond was busy plying the needle in the sewing room, Miss Mayhews entered the room and asked for her. As soon as her name was called, Carrie felt sure that her father, mother, and sister had come for a promised visit to her, but when she reached the reception room she found her father there alone. He greeted her warmly, and then, in answer to a motion from him, she brought him a slate and pencil, and he wrote a few sentences informing her that her mother and sister were in the city visiting her uncle, and that he had come to take her down to see them.
Just then, Dr. Mayhews entered the room, and, after the usual cordial greeting, the two men began conversing. Presently Dr. Mayhews turned to Carrie and said, “You may get ready and accompany your father to your uncle’s home.”
Carrie bowed an acknowledgment of the permission and was about to leave the room when Dr. Mayhews added, “Your aunt wishes Gertie Hawley to accompany you.” Carrie again bowed and hurried off to find Gertie.
Gertie Hawley lived with her grandmother in the city, and during the months of vacation she had attended Sunday school in one of the city churches. Mrs. Wheatland, Carrie’s aunt, had been her Sunday school teacher. This is how she came to be acquainted with Mrs. Wheatland and to receive an invitation to visit her.
Carrie soon found Gertie, and, taking her up to the reception room, introduced her to her father, and the two girls hastened away to get ready for their visit.
A pleasant ride of several miles brought them to Mr. Wheatland’s neat, substantial residence, where Carrie found not only her aunt waiting to welcome her, but her mother and sister also. The evening passed very pleasantly.
The following morning, Mr. Raymond—who had, during the year, met with some pecuniary losses—told Carrie that he would not be able to get her the usual number of holiday presents this year, and he asked her what she most needed. Carrie, after a few moments’ reflection, said, “A popcorn parcher and some black velvet ribbon for my sash.” This answer created some amusement among the older members of the group, but Mr. Raymond at once went out and purchased the desired articles.
Mr. and Mrs. Raymond were obliged to take the morning train for home, but Mr. Wheatland insisted on keeping Carrie and Gertie two days longer, although he was aware that for doing so he would owe an apology to the superintendent.
The visit extended over the Sabbath, and the two girls attended Sunday school at one of the city churches. The service was all conducted vocally, and they felt somewhat lonely and out of place on account of their inability to take part in the exercises.
On Monday evening Mr. Wheatland took the girls to the institution in his carriage. As he drove up the avenue inside of the grounds, two deaf and dumb boys passed them, giving the two girls the usual greeting, which was cordially received and acknowledged by a like greeting from one of them and a bow from the other. Mr. Wheatland, who had noticed the greeting and the way it had been received, said, “Why do you allow the boys to throw kisses to you?”
“Oh,” explained Gertie Hawley, “they were not throwing kisses, but simply saying ‘Good day’ in the silent language.” Mr. Wheatland seemed inclined to doubt that, but simply smiled.
Upon reaching the institution he asked to see the superintendent, to apologize to him for keeping the girls so long. When he made his appearance he greeted the girls in the same manner as the two boys had done; so Mr. Wheatland was convinced that this was the common mode of greeting. He soon took leave of the girls, who hastened away to tell some of their companions what an enjoyable visit they had.
The following Saturday afternoon Carrie decided to parch some popcorn. So, taking a few ears of popcorn and her new parcher, she went down to the ironing room, where she found some of the servants ironing and a good fire burning. She knew from experience that if she asked permission to parch her corn, she would very likely meet with a refusal, and, being a very self-willed and independent little maid, she went right to work to carry out her plans. One of the servants, seeing her, came up to her and rather harshly told her that she could not parch corn that day. Harsh treatment always aroused Carrie’s ire and often rendered her well-nigh intractable; now she stubbornly refused to give up her project. At last the servant seized both corn and parcher and hurled them into the hall, and poor Carrie was obliged to follow them. So vexed was she at that turn of affairs that tears flowed in little streams down her cheeks. Cleo Benton, who had heretofore treated Carrie with cold indifference, noticed her grief and felt touched by it. Inquiring the cause of her trouble, Carrie told her how she had intended to parch some corn and had been rudely sent from the ironing room by the servants. Cleo, in her kindest manner, attempted to comfort her; so potent is true sympathy that she not only succeeded in making Carrie forget the little grievance, but won her gratitude and friendship as well.
It is a singular fact that those who eventually became Carrie’s loyal and loving friends had, in nearly every case, almost despised her until some unlooked-for occurrence drew them to her, and they almost unconsciously learned to love her. Carrie was naturally sensitive and reserved, and few were enabled to understand her until brought into close companionship with her. She proved herself a true and pleasant friend to those who treated her justly; but harsh or unjust treatment always aroused her resentment.
Cleo Benton, who had now become one of Carrie’s daily companions, one day unwittingly provoked her wrath, and, as a result, a war of reproachful words followed. After that occurrence came a season of gloomy silence, which lasted about an hour. By this time both hearts had lost their wrathful feelings; a reconciliation ensued, and their pleasant companionship was resumed.
The deaf and dumb, as a rule, entertain a very keen sense of their obligation to forgive. At an early period of their education they are taught the Lord’s Prayer, in which the Lord himself teaches us to forgive those who injure us if we would ourselves be forgiven. When one of the girls has injured another in any way, she is soon constrained to ask forgiveness. If the offended one still cherishes resentment and refuses to forgive the injury done, the offender will say, “Oh, that is wicked, and God will not forgive you.” Then the offended one will say, though sometimes rather coldly, “Yes, I forgive you.” At these words the other, throwing her arms around the one she has injured, seals the forgiveness granted by a kiss. Then, and not till then, peace comes back to their hearts and smiles to their faces, as if God, witnessing the scene and knowing they had done the best they knew how to obey his command, manifested his approval by making them happy once more. In the case of the reconciliation of two boys, they, not believing in kissing, clasp each other’s hands instead.
One afternoon Carrie Raymond was given a pair of pantaloons to make for one of the boys. Notwithstanding the fact that she had never made a pair before, the work proceeded very well until she had almost finished them. As she was sewing in one of the pockets, she found that the cloth needed to be cut about half an inch to make the work go smoothly together. Instead of taking it to the seamstress to have her fix it, Carrie concluded that she could easily cut it herself.
So she got a pair of scissors—very sharp ones they were—and, not being careful how she used them, before she knew it they had cut their way almost three inches through the cloth, instead of half an inch. Carrie was frightened, and at first she thought of sewing so as to conceal the cut; but she soon found this was impossible. She felt troubled, knowing that the seamstress would be vexed and would perhaps punish her severely. With her sensitive nature, she shrank from harsh treatment of every kind. She sat still, trying to devise some way out of the difficulty, but there seemed no way except to confess what she had done and face the consequences. It was hard for her to do that, and she shrank from it. Still, something told her that was the only right way. So after the sewing hours had ended and the work was all laid away, she went up to her room and, after some hesitation, wrote a note to the seamstress, telling her all about it. It was not, however, until the next morning that she found the courage to knock at her door and give her the note. The seamstress, after she had read it, said, kindly, “I am glad you told me of it. If you had not, I would soon have found it out and punished you. But I will forgive you now, and we will try and remedy the cut.” Carrie, with a full heart, thanked her for her kind words, and, with her mind so relieved, hurried away feeling glad she had done as she felt prompted.