Jessie

“I wonder where Henry is; I haven’t seen him for three or four days,” said Jessie one morning, as Ronald was mending one of the straps of his skates, preparatory to an excursion to the pond with several boys who were waiting outside.

No reply was made, and after a moment’s pause, she added,

“I am afraid he is sick. Have you seen him, lately, Ronald?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since that day we went over to Round Hill Pond, to see the ice-boat,” replied Ronald.

“You haven’t heard of the falling out of Ronald and Henry, have you?” inquired Oscar of Jessie, as soon as Ronald left the room.

“A falling out? No, I have heard nothing about that. What is the trouble between them?” inquired Jessie.

“I didn’t know anything about it until yesterday,” replied Oscar, “although I suspected something was wrong. It seems, according to Ronald’s story, that he and Henry undertook to build a snow-house, and had got it nearly done, when Henry got mad about something or other, and knocked it all to pieces, while Ronald was away.”

“But I can hardly believe that,” said Jessie. “It doesn’t seem at all like Henry, to do such a thing as that—and such good friends as he and Ronald have always been, too. Did anybody see Henry tear the house down, or is it all mere suspicion?”

“It’s nothing but suspicion, I believe,” replied Oscar; “but Ronald says he’s certain Henry did it, and he declares he will never have anything more to say to him. It’s a little suspicious that Henry hasn’t been over here, since that day, isn’t it?”

“Well, I shall not believe Henry did it, unless he acknowledges it, or some witness testifies that he saw him do it,” added Jessie. “I will go over and see Henry, to-day, and find out the truth about the matter.”

In the afternoon, when her work was finished up, Jessie went over to Mr. Allen’s, where Henry lived, and made inquiries about the report she had heard in the morning. Her brother readily admitted that he had destroyed the snow-house; but he justified himself on the ground, first, that Ronald did not treat him well, but provoked him to do it; and secondly, that he had a right to destroy it, as the snow-house was just as much his as it was Ronald’s. Jessie listened patiently to all he had to say in his defence, and then simply inquired:—

“Why haven’t you been over to see us, since that day?—you used to come almost every day.”

Henry bit his thumb nail nervously, and gazed intently at the corner of the carriage-shed, but made no reply.

“Come, Henry, I want an answer to that question,” added Jessie. “You know that you and I have no better friend, next to our mother, than Mrs. Page. Then all the rest of the family have always been very kind to us. Now I want to know why you should shun them all, and your own sister, too, if you only did what your conscience approved, the last time you were over there. Will you answer me that?”

After a long pause, finding that Jessie was still patiently waiting for a reply, he stammered:—

“I don’t know—I suppose I didn’t do exactly right—but Ronald’s more to blame than I am—he began to pick upon me, first.”

“Well,” added Jessie, “I want this quarrel settled right up, before it grows any worse. You acknowledge that you did wrong; now are you willing to confess this to the one you wronged, and to ask his pardon?”

“If he’d apologize to me first, perhaps I would,” replied Henry, after a little hesitation.

“How much nobler it would be for you to go to him, first,” replied Jessie. “According to your own showing, you are the one most to blame, even if Ronald did provoke you a little. Now I will engage, that if you go and acknowledge to him that you have done wrong, he will make ample apology to you for whatever provocation he may have given. Will you do it?”

“But I only did what I had a right to do—the snow-house was mine as much as it was his,” said Henry, evading the question.

“I have some doubts about that,” replied Jessie. “The snow-house was in Ronald’s yard, and you were his guest. I think he had the best right to it. But even if you were equal partners in the matter, you had no right to destroy it without his consent. He has rights, as well as you. Two men sometimes build a house together; but if they should get into a dispute, when it was finished, and one of them should go and set the building afire, or pull it all to pieces, I think he would have to go to the State prison, even if he did own half the property. It would be a crime. And it is just the same in your case. At most you only owned half the snow-house, and you had no right to destroy even your own half, because it would interfere with Ronald’s rights to do so.”

Henry attempted no reply to this reasoning, but still manifested an unwillingness to make any advances towards a reconciliation. Jessie then tried to persuade him to go home with her, and have an interview with Ronald, she promising to do her best to arrange matters to the satisfaction of both; but Henry resolutely refused to do this.

“I have thought of one other way to settle this quarrel,” added Jessie, after a little pause; “and that is, to refer it to two or three referees, and let them decide who is most to blame, and who shall make a first confession. Will you agree to that?”

“I don’t see any need of going to all that fuss about it—Ronald began the quarrel, and if he wants to make up, let him say so,” replied Henry.

“It is not considered a very good sign,” resumed Jessie, “when a man refuses to submit his dispute with a neighbor to two or three disinterested persons. People say he does not act in good faith. It looks as though he were neither innocent nor honest. Must I go home and tell the folks that you have done this?”

“No, I didn’t refuse, but I don’t see any use in doing it, though,” answered Henry.

“Suppose Ronald insists that you are more to blame than he, and refuses to acknowledge his error until you have confessed yours; how can you ever come to terms, unless by some such means as I have proposed? It is a very simple thing, and if you are both acting in good faith, I don’t see how you can object to it. Will you agree to it, if Ronald will?”

“Y-e-s,” replied Henry, with evident reluctance.

“Well, you had better choose your referee now—that will save the necessity of seeing you again about it,” added Jessie.

“I’ll choose you,” said Henry.

“Very well, I’ll accept,” replied Jessie. “Ronald shall choose another, and we two shall elect a third; then both parties shall have a hearing, and you agree to abide by the decision we make, without any question or grumbling, do you?”

“Why—but—”

“No whys or buts now, bub,” interrupted Jessie, “the award of the referees is final—there’s no appeal from it.”

“Well, but suppose you referees should decide that Ronald should give me a thrashing; do you suppose I’d stand still and take it?” inquired Henry.

“That is not a supposable case,” replied Jessie. “All I can say to it, is, that if the referees think the breach cannot be healed, and justice done to all, without some kind of reparation, or punishment, we shall expect the guilty one to submit to it, whatever it is. But I must be going, now—you will probably hear from us to-morrow.”

Jessie had a private interview with Ronald, on her return home, and found that he was really much offended with Henry. He gave his version of the difficulty, dwelling particularly upon Henry’s ungenerous fling at his parents, and the spite he exhibited in destroying the snow-house.

“But,” Jessie suggested, after patiently hearing his statement, “isn’t it possible that you were the aggressor, after all? Were you not a little arbitrary, and self-willed, about that time? And didn’t you provoke Henry by telling him you could order him out of the yard, if you chose, and by daring him to touch the snow-house, after you left it? You know Henry is older than you, and that made it harder to submit to such treatment. He feels that he did wrong, and I think he is sorry for it; but he says you began the quarrel, and are more to blame than he is. If you should go to him, and apologize for what you said, I am confident he would be melted into penitence in an instant, and make all the reparation possible for the wrong he has done you.”

Ronald was ready to admit that some of the blame should be placed to his account, but he did not think he was called upon to take the first step towards a reconciliation. Jessie then told him of the referee plan, and he cheerfully assented to it, and chose Marcus as his arbitrator.

It happened that Marcus heard nothing about the quarrel until Jessie apprised him of the honorable office to which he had been chosen. He approved of the course Jessie had taken, and accepted the appointment; and as a third referee was wanted, they selected Oscar for that post. Shortly after this, Mr. Allen rode by, and Marcus, hailing him, asked permission for Henry to come over for a little while in the evening, which he readily granted. So it was decided that the matter should be settled up at once.

Henry arrived early in the evening, before the referees had commenced their business, Jessie being engaged with her duties in the kitchen. He was ushered into the sitting-room, where several of the family were seated, including Ronald.

“Mr. Allen said you wanted me to come over here, this evening,” he said to Marcus, with some embarrassment of manner, as he entered the room.

“Yes, walk in and take a seat—I’m glad to see you once more,” replied Marcus.

“Good evening, Henry,” said Ronald, very composedly, after the others had all saluted the newcomer.

“Good evening,” Henry feebly responded, blushing a deeper red than before.

“Been skating, to-day?” inquired Ronald.

“No,” replied Henry, in an almost inaudible tone, hitching uneasily in his seat.

“I have,” continued Ronald, warming up. “Oh, you ought to have been there, and seen Gil Bryant skate. Did you ever see him?”

“No, I believe not,” replied Henry, who was winking intently at the fire.

“Well, if he isn’t a splendid skater, then I never saw one,” continued Ronald. “Why, they say he has skated a mile in three minutes and a half; shouldn’t you call that pretty quick travelling?”

Henry silently nodded assent—to the fire, and looked more “worked up” than ever.

“What, don’t you believe it, Marcus?” inquired Ronald, in a tone of surprise, as he noticed a broad smile illuminating Marcus’s face.

“Believe it?” responded Marcus; “of course I do. I’ve skated about as fast as that myself, before now.”

The fact was, Marcus was smiling at the thoughtless, good-natured talkativeness of Ronald, as contrasted with the timid and nervous reserve of Henry, and was balancing in his mind the question whether, after all, the services of the board of arbitrators would be necessary to bring the opposing parties to a reconciliation. That smile, however, seemed to have broken the spell that was upon Ronald. He dropped the thread of conversation, and was soon lost in his book, while Henry continued to sit winking at the glowing, coal-enveloped back-log. Aunt Fanny, who sat at the table sewing, now endeavored to draw him into conversation by inquiries after Mr. Allen’s family, but did not meet with much better success than Ronald. Pretty soon Mrs. Page and Jessie came in, and Marcus inquired:

“Can we have the kitchen, now, mother?”

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Page.

“Well, Jessie and Oscar, suppose we withdraw,” continued Marcus.

The three referees retired to the kitchen, and after consulting a few moments, decided to examine the two parties to the dispute separately. Henry was then called in, and gave his version of the difficulty, from its beginning to his destruction of the snow-house. He defended himself, as well as he could, and promptly and frankly answered all the questions that were put to him by the referees. He was then requested to withdraw, and Ronald was called in, and underwent a similar examination. The latter seemed in quite a merry mood, when he returned to the sitting-room.

“Mother,” he said, “you ought to go out there, and see what an august tribunal we’ve got. They’re all as sober as judges, and Marcus has got a sheet of paper, and is scribbling away on it as fast as he can. He made believe that he was writing down all I said, but I guess I can talk faster than he can write, any day.”

“He was only noting down the leading points of your testimony, I suppose,” remarked Mrs. Page.

“Leading points?” continued Ronald; “he must have found them pretty thick, then, for he kept scribbling the whole time I was in the room. Did he when you was in there, Henry?”

“Yes,” replied Henry, “he filled a whole page, and began another.”

“Well,” added Ronald, with an air of mock gravity, “I suppose the momentous question is almost decided. I tremble for my fate—don’t you, Henry?”

“Not much,” replied Henry, with a smile.

“After all, I suppose we might as well be resigned,” continued Ronald; “I’m not going to worry about it, any way.”

“I don’t think it will be a very great hardship to either of you, to shake hands and become friends again, if that is all the referees ask,” remarked Mrs. Page.

“Nor I, neither. Come, Henry, let’s do it now, and get the start of them,” cried Ronald; and grasping each other’s hands, the two estranged playmates indulged in a long and hearty shake, and felt that their quarrel was at once healed.

“Well done, boys!” exclaimed Mrs. Page. “Now how much better that is, than to let such a trifling thing make enemies of you. I shouldn’t wonder if you both remembered this act as long as you live; and you’ll always remember it with pleasure, too.”

“Do you suppose that’s all they’ll tell us to do—to shake hands and make up?” inquired Ronald.

“I haven’t any idea what kind of a decision they will make, as I know but little about the facts in the case,” replied Mrs. Page.

“It seems to me they are a good while making their decision,” said Henry; “I should think it was about time to hear from them.”

Oscar appeared at the door, a few minutes afterward, and summoned Ronald and Henry before the referees. Marcus requested them to stand, while he read the decision.

“Mayn’t I say something, first?” inquired Ronald.

“Yes,” replied Marcus.

“Well, Henry and I have made up,” added Ronald.

“Ah, I’m glad to hear that,” said Marcus. “If you had done this a little sooner, you might have saved yourselves and us some trouble; but as we have finished up the business you employed us to do, we shall expect you to abide by our decision, and to pay us our fees.”

“Fees? Have we got to pay you fees?” inquired Ronald, with a laugh.

“To be sure you have,” replied Marcus, with the utmost gravity. “It is customary to pay the referees, in such cases.”

“Well, I don’t believe you’ll make much out of me—I can’t raise more than one cent apiece for you, any way,” said Ronald, feeling in his pocket.

“We wont discuss that point now, but I will read the decision,” observed Marcus; “and he proceeded to read the following paper:

“AWARD OF REFEREES.

“The Board of Referees in the case of Hapley vs. Page, have carefully considered the matter committed to their judgment, and have come to the following decision. They find that Page originated the trouble, by manifesting an overbearing and unaccommodating spirit towards Hapley; by claiming exclusive ownership of the snow-house erected by their joint labors; and by using taunting language. They also find that Hapley was to blame, for using unkind language towards Page, and especially for destroying the snow-house, in a spirit of retaliation. Supposing the structure in dispute to have been the joint property of Page and Hapley, the Referees are clearly of opinion that neither party had a right to pull down the whole of it, or even one-half, without the consent of the other. Buildings, ships, etc., are often owned by several persons, jointly; but one party may not do any thing to the common property that would injure the other owners. The Referees, therefore, decide that Hapley, being the elder, ought to express to Page his regret for what has occurred in connection with this affair, and to ask his forgiveness; and that Page, in return, ought to make a similar acknowledgment to Hapley, asking his pardon for commencing the quarrel. The Referees also recommend both parties cordially to forgive each other, and to manifest their determination to do so by shaking hands.

“The Referees further order, that at the earliest practicable day, the said Hapley and Page shall erect a new snow edifice, on the site of the one destroyed, to be called the Temple of Peace. Said structure shall be of such size and proportions as the said Hapley and Page may agree upon, and when completed, it shall belong to the Referees, who shall accept the same as full payment for their services in this case.

“Highburg, March 4.”

As soon as Marcus concluded the reading of this paper, Henry stepped up to Ronald, and taking his hand, told him he was sorry for what he had done, and asked his forgiveness. Ronald responded in a similar spirit, and a cordial shaking of hands concluded the ceremonies. Marcus then thanked them for submitting so promptly and good-naturedly to the decision of the Referees, after which they all withdrew to the sitting-room.

“Jessie, have you finished your gallery of literary portraits?” inquired Marcus, as he drew his chair to its accustomed place at the table.

“Yes, I have done about all I shall do to it—I am getting a little sick of it,” replied Jessie.

“Suppose you pass it around, then, for the entertainment of the company,” said Marcus.

“I’m almost ashamed to show it,” continued Jessie, going to a drawer in the secretary. “There are so many figures that I did not have time to take much pains with them. I think you’ll be puzzled to tell what some of them represent.”

“So much the better for that,” replied Marcus.

Jessie had a taste for drawing, and had taken a few lessons in this art. Her interest in it had been rekindled, since removing to her new home, by the offer of Miss Lee to give her further instruction in the use of the pencil. Miss Lee was an accomplished sketcher and painter, and had formerly taught these branches in the academy, for several terms. The “gallery of literary portraits,” alluded to by Marcus, was undertaken by Jessie to furnish amusement to the younger members of the family, rather than as an exercise in drawing. It consisted of a series of names of literary characters, enigmatically expressed. She handed the sheets to Marcus, who passed them round the circle. Some of the portraits were recognized by all at first sight; but others proved quite puzzling to the younger folks, and there were several which no one could solve, until Jessie gave a clue to them. On the next two pages we give a transcript of this Gallery of Literary Portraits.