Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 by Glimpses of Louisa (v2.1)

harm in
staying up to enjoy the moonlight, and sing and tell stories. Mrs. Sibley knows
what is proper better than you do."
                            
"I don't think she does, for she goes to bed and leaves the girls to flirt
with those officers in a way that I know is NOT proper," answered Jenny,
firmly. "I should be very sorry to hear them say of you as they did of the
Sibley girls, 'They are a wild lot, but great fun.'"
                            
"Did they say that? How impertinent!" and Ethel bridled up like a
ruffled chicken, for she was not out yet, and had not lost the modest instincts
that so soon get blunted when a frivolous fashionable life begins.
                            
"I heard them, and I know that the well-bred people on board do not like
the Sibleys' noisy ways and bad manners. Now, you, my dear, are young and
unused to this sort of life; so you cannot be too careful what you say and do,
and with whom you go."
                            
"Good gracious! any one would think YOU were as
wise as Solomon and as old as the hills. YOU are young, and YOU haven't
travelled, and don't know any more of the world than I do,—not so much of some
things; so you needn't preach."
                            
"I'm not wise nor old, but I DO know more of the
world than you, for I began to take care of myself and earn my living at
sixteen, and four years of hard work have taught me a great deal. I am to watch
over you, and I intend to do it faithfully, no matter what you say, nor how
hard you make it for me; because I promised, and I shall keep my word. We are
not to trouble Mrs. Homer with our little worries, but try to help each other
and have a really good time. I will do anything for you that I can, but I shall
NOT let you do things which I wouldn't allow my own sisters to do, and if you
refuse to mind me, I shall write to your mother and ask to go home. My
conscience won't let me take money and pleasure unless I earn them and do my
duty."
                            
"Well, upon my word!" cried Ethel, much impressed by such a decided
speech from gentle Jane, and dismayed at the idea of being taken home in
disgrace.
                            
"We won't talk any more now, because we may get angry and say what we
should be sorry for. I am sure you will see that I am right when you think it
over quietly. So good-night, dear."
                            
"Good-night," was all the reply Ethel gave, and a long silence
followed.
                            
Mrs. Homer could not help hearing as the staterooms were close together, and
the well-ventilated doors made all conversation beyond a whisper audible.
                            
"I didn't think Jane had the spirit to talk like that. She has taken my
hint and asserted herself, and I'm very glad, for Ethel must be set right at
once or we shall have no peace. She will respect and obey Jane after this, or I
shall be obliged to say MY word."
                            
Mrs. Homer was right, and before her first nap set in she heard a meek voice
say,—
                            
"Are you asleep, Miss Bassett?"
                             "No, dear."
                            
"Then I want to say, I've thought it over. Please DON'T write to mamma.
I'll be good. I'm sorry I was rude to you; do forgive—"
                            
The sentence was not ended, for a sudden rustle, a little sob, and several
hearty kisses plainly told that Jenny had flown to pardon, comfort, and caress
her naughty child, and that all was well.
                            
After that Ethel's behavior was painfully decorous for the rest of the voyage,
which, fortunately for her good