boy with fishing pole girls watching"Martin told the girls that if they would place themselves with him on an old trunk of a tree, they would probably find it to be a better position from which to throw their lines."—p. 93
"Martin told the girls that if they would place themselves with him on an old trunk of a tree, they would probably find it to be a better position from which to throw their lines."—p. 93
When the children reached the little house near the wood, they were surprised to see Dolly standing in the gateway quite equipped for the ramble. She had a large basket on her arm, and a long hickory stick in her hands. Nelly introduced Martin, who stood a little aloof when the girls first met, and then Dolly asked them if they would not all come in and rest, but the children thought that it was best not to do so. Hearing voices, the farmer came to the door of the farm house to see them off. He looked pleased to find Dolly with the little girls.
"That's right," he said, "I'm glad to have my Dolly tramping about like other folks' children. It will do her good. But don't stay late: the damp of the evening is very unwholesome for the nager."
"Oh, we are coming back long before night, sir," said Bessie, cheerfully, "'cause I've got all my cresses to pick for to-morrow. Mother and I aresomuch obliged to you, I can't reallytellhow much!"
"Quite welcome, quite welcome," said Mr. Dart; "I'll be on the look-out for another basket to-morrow then."
As the four children walked briskly along the path through the woods, Nelly looked with some curiosity at Dolly's stick. She could not imagine for what purpose it was intended. It was not very stout, nor apparently very heavy;at the upper end it was a little curved. Dolly seemed to use it for a staff, and several times helped herself over some rough and stony places with it. When the walking was good she carried it carelessly over her shoulder, with her basket swinging at the crooked end.
A short time brought the party to the place where they had found so many nuts only a day or two before. Much to their surprise and mortification the trees which were lately so loaded, were now perfectly bare. Some one had evidently been there during the time that intervened, and had carried away the prize. There were several large piles of the outer shells scattered about on the ground, but that was all.
"What shall we do," asked Bessie, mournfully; "I don't think we can findanother such spot as this was in the whole woods. This clump of trees was as full as it could be only the day before yesterday."
Dolly took her stick and poked among the branches to see if any remained. She found about half a dozen, which she knocked down and put in her basket.
"Now I know," said Nelly, "what Dolly brought that pole for,—to knock down the nuts."
"Yes," said Dolly, surveying the stick in question with some pride, "it is splendid for that. I call it my cherry-tree hook, and I use it in cherry time to pull the branches towards me. But come, we must push on and seek our fortunes. Haven't anideeof goin' home without my basket full."
"I give up, for one," said Bessie, despondently, "I don't think we can find a thick place again."
"Never mind, Bessie," said Martin, with good-nature, "we'll find athinone then. We'll do the best we can, you may be sure. Come, girls, I'll lead the way. Let us follow this little footpath and see where it will take us."
He spoke in an encouraging tone, and suiting the action to the word, walked on ahead. The girls followed him in silence. The underbrush through which the path led was very thick and high, and for a short distance nothing could be discerned on either side. The thorns caught into the clothing of the little party, and they found this by no means an added pleasure. It was not long, however, before the track broadenedinto a wide, open space, something similar to the one they had just quitted, dotted here and there with trees, but, as fortune would have it, none of them were nut trees. They were on the point of penetrating still further towards the heart of the wood, when a loud rustling among the dead branches and dried leaves of the path made the children turn to discover what was the matter.
A joyful barking followed, and a rough-looking dog bounded out, and began prancing about and leaping upon Dolly.
"Oh, it's only our old Tiger," she exclaimed; "down, Tige, down, sir!"
But Tiger was so delighted at having succeeded in finding his young mistress, that he did not cease indulging in his various uncouth gambols, until Dolly,stamping her foot and assuming an air of great severity, bade himbe quiet, or she would send him immediately home. Tiger seemed to understand the threat, for he stopped barking and instantly darted several hundred feet in advance of the party.
"He does that so that I cannot make him go back," cried Dolly, laughing at the sagacity of her favorite; "I never tell him I will send him home, but that he runs ahead so as to make it impossible for me to do as I say."
They continued their wanderings for some distance further, but with very poor success.
"I'll tell you what we can do," said Martin, with a laugh, as exclamations of vexation and disappointment were heard from the girls; "let's turn our nuttinginto a fishing excursion. Wouldn't it be nice if we should each go home with a string of fish?"
"Fish!" cried Nelly, "whatdoyou mean, Martin?"
"I never heard of anybody catchin' fish in the woods!" said Dolly. "There isn't a drop of water nearer than the pond the other side of Morrison's hill."
"Well," said Martin, "I know there is not, but that is not so very far off. I was just thinking of the shortest way to get there."
"I know every inch of the country," said Dolly, firmly, "and I'msureMorrison's pond is at least a good two mile from here."
"Oh, we can't walkthat, Martin," cried Bessie; "we should all be tired, and get home after dark besides."
"Now," said Martin, smiling, "I do not wish to contradict anybody, but I am acquainted with a path, a rather rough one to be sure, that will bring us, in about twenty minutes, to the edge of the pond. You know it is not as far away as people think, the crooked, winding road making it appear a long way off, when in reality it lies in a straight line only about half a mile from the village."
"But if we conclude to go, we can'tfish," said Dolly.
"Why not?" quietly asked Martin.
"We haven't a line or a hook among us," put forth Nelly, "at least I am sureIhaven't."
"WellIhave," replied Martin, "provided you will not despise bent pins for hooks, pieces of the twine that is leftof that I tied your bitter-sweet berries with for lines, a hickory stick like Dolly's for a rod, and earth worms for bait. There now, haven't I furnished the whole party with tackle? Come, don't let us go home without havingsomethingto take with us."
Dolly sat down on the stump of a tree and began to laugh.
"The idee," she said, "of going nutting and bringing homefish. Well, I'm willing, for one, if it's only to find out the path. I thought I knew all the ins and outs around here."
"And I'd like to go too," said Nelly.
"I shouldliketo go well enough," added Bessie, "if it wasn't that I feel sure the extra walk will just bring me home too late for my cresses. Mother is sick, too, and she cannot be left alonevery long; and Dolly, you know your father said you must not stay out late."
"Yes," said Dolly, "I know he did, and I don't mean to disobey, but it can't be very lateyet;I should think not more than half past three."
Martin looked up at the sun and then down to the shadows on the ground.
"No," said he, "it is not more than half past three. I am in the habit of telling time by the sun, and I know it is not later than that. Come, Bessie, three to one is the way the case stands. I guess you will be home time enough."
Bessie stood irresolute. She wished to go fishing, and she wished to return home. It was hard to choose. At last she said,
"It will be four at least when I get back. I must go."
"Then you break up the party," said Nelly, in a dissatisfied tone.
"And you spoil the pleasure," added Dolly, leaning on her stick and looking at Bessie.
"And you send us all home with empty baskets when we might each have a string of fish," continued Martin. "Dostay!"
The children surrounded Bessie, and tried to persuade her. At length she ceased to resist. She endeavored to assure herself that she was acting right, but she felt uneasy as she did so, and the picture of her mother, lying so long alone in her sick room, rose up to her mind. Still the temptation was before her, and she yielded to it. The truth was, that Bessie had great confidence in Martin, and when he said that he thoughtthere was plenty of time, she reasoned with herself that he was a great deal older than she was, and probably knew best; so she consented to join the fishing party. The moment she said "yes," Martin exclaimed,
"This way then; follow me, all of you, and we will soon reach the short-cut track. It is about here somewhere. Let us hurry so as to lose no time."
The path was speedily found as he had said, and the children walked as rapidly after him as the rough stones which lay in the way, and the projecting branches of blackberry bushes would permit.
When they reached the pond, Martin took out the pocket knife which he usually carried about him, and cut down four slender young trees which he foundgrowing between the pond and the public wagon-road at its side. He gave these to Nelly and asked her if she would tie the strings securely fast to the smallest ends, while he and Bessie overturned stones in search of worms, and Dolly bent the points of the pins so as to resemble hooks.
"Why will not my staff do for a pole?" asked Dolly, as she hammered at the pins with a large pebble; "you said it would, Martin."
"That was before I saw these little trees," replied Martin. "The moment I came upon them, growing here in a group among the bushes, I knew they were just the things I wanted. They are thin and tapering, and your stick is not."
"What difference does that make?"said Dolly; "a pole is only for the purpose of casting the line out a good distance into the water, isn't it?"
"That is one use for it," said Martin, "but not all. If a pole is properly proportioned, that is, if it is the right size at the handle, and tapers gradually to the point, the fisherman can feel the least nibble, and know the exact moment when to draw up the line. If he could not feel the movement, the fish might, in the struggles occasioned by his pain, carry off bait and hook too."
"In our case that wouldn't be a great loss," laughed Dolly, and she held up the pins, neatly bent into shape.
"Martin," said Bessie, in a low voice, as she stooped to raise a stone at his side, "I guess I don't care to fish, after all."
Martin saw something was amiss. Instead of giving utterance to a rude exclamation, or calling the attention of the others, he said in a kind tone,
"Why, Bessie, what is the matter now? Don't you feel right?"
Bessie shook her head. Martin saw there were tears in her eyes.
"I am sorry I coaxed you," he said. "I feel now as if I had not behaved as I ought."
"I neverdidlike to go fishing," said Bessie; "ithurtsme to see the poor little things pant and flounder when they are brought up. The moment I heard you speak of their struggling with the pain, I was sorrier than ever that I had come, and that made me think of mother, staying home alone withherpain. I do believe I ought to go back at once."
"But you cannot find the way," said Martin; "you have never been here before."
"That is true," said Bessie, sighing. "Well, I do not wish to be a spoil-pleasure. Don't mind me, then, but you and the others begin your fishing, and if I see a wagon come by on the road that is going our way, I can jump in. I need not stop your sport if I do that."
Martin looked perplexed.
"I hardly like you to try it," he said, "and yet I do not wish you to stay against your will."
"Well," said Bessie, "I don't like to actmean, Martin. Go on fishing for a little while, at all events. I can wait half an hour or so, I suppose."
Nelly now called to Martin that the lines were ready, for Dolly had justfinished tying on the last pin. He gathered up the bait he had found beneath the stones, and went towards the two other girls. He thought, on consideration, that he might fish for a short time, while waiting to see if a wagon approached on the road. If none did so within the allotted half hour, he made up his mind to go home. He blamed himself now for having changed the destination of the party.
"Here's my line," cried Dolly, holding it out at the end of her pole, "and now all that I and the fishes wait for is a worm."
Martin fastened one on Dolly's pin, one on Nelly's likewise, and one on the line he intended for himself.
"Come, Bessie," said Nelly, as she flung her line into the water, "come tryyourluck."
"Bessie does not care about fishing," said Martin kindly, "do not press her if she does not wish it."
The pond was well stocked with a variety of small fishes, many of which were considered good eating by the farmers in the neighborhood. As scarcely any one ever took the trouble, however, to go after them, they were hardly acquainted with hooks or lines, and they were, consequently, all the more easily caught. Martin said he had never seen such hungry fishes before. They snapped at the bait the moment it was lowered to them, oftentimes carrying it entirely off, hook and all.
Once, and the children could scarcely believe it when they saw it, a fish called a bull-head leaped at least an inch above the water and tried to swallow the endof Dolly's line, which she was in the act of raising, to replace the pin and worm which some of his greedy kindred had just taken away.
Martin told the girls that if they would place themselves with him on an old trunk of a tree that apparently had fallen years before into the edge of the pond, they would probably find it to be a better position from which to throw their lines than the shore on which they had stood at first. "For," said he, "the larger fish do not like to venture into such shallow water." The trunk, however, was covered with moist moss, which made it very slippery, and Nelly came so near losing her balance and falling in, as she walked up it, that she concluded to remain where she was. Martin and Dolly did not meet with thesame difficulty, however, and very soon they discovered that the nibbles were far more frequent than before. Martin kept a twig on which he slipped the fish as soon as caught, and then hung it on a branch of the moss-covered trunk. Bessie had begun to look on the proceedings with interest, feeling almost as sorry as her companions as a ravenous bull-head occasionally carried off the hooks, when she heard a noise on the road as of wheels. She ran to the bushes which, divided it from the pond, and putting her little face through, saw that the miller who lived in the village was passing with three or four large sacks of meal in a wagon drawn by a pair of horses. He was going the wrong way, but the thought occurred to her to stop him and ask how long it wouldbe before he should return, and if he should do so by the same road. The miller was a stout, good-natured looking man, with an old hat and coat as white as his meal bags. He seemed astonished enough at seeing Bessie's head pop so suddenly out of the bushes in that lonely place.
"Why, Bessie," said he, laughing, "if I hadn't been as bold as a lion, perhaps I might have mistaken you for a mermaid that had just sprung out of the pond to have a little private conversation with me. Yes, I shall come back by this road. I have got to deliver my meal at the first house on the left, and then I turn towards home again. Is that your party that I catch a glimpse of on the pond?"
"Yes," said Bessie, "they're fishing.You wouldn't mind giving us a ride as far as you go, Mr. Watson, would you?"
Mr. Watson laughed, and said no he wouldn't, and telling her he should return in fifteen minutes, he drove on. Bessie hurried back to the children and related her news. She was careful not to be so selfish as to ask them to leave the pond to go with her, but she told them for their own benefit that the miller was willing to take the whole party. Enticing as the fishing was, the two girls were now far too tired to desire to walk home when they could ride very nearly all the way. Martin for his part would have liked to remain longer, but he saw that it would be ungenerous to refuse to accompany them, even if it had been early enough to do so, which it was not, for already the daywas on the wane. So it was decided to leave the pond.
Martin put Dolly's share of the fishes on a separate twig, and very proud she was of them. She said she should fry them for her father's breakfast the next morning, before he started for market. The fishing poles were left lying near the old tree.
When the miller drove up to the place where Bessie had hailed him, he found the children awaiting him. Dolly and Martin, fish in hand, Nelly carrying her bitter-sweet berries, and Bessie with an empty basket, but a light heart at the thought that now she should reach home in good season to gather the cresses.
"I can'tfind it," said Bessie, about a month after the fishing party. "I have hunted high and low. I cannot find it anywhere."
Her mother, whose health was now greatly improving, was sitting in the kitchen by the blazing fire, for the weather was gradually growing colder, and the logs were piled up a little higher on the hearth, day by day. She was busy finishing quilting a white counterpane for a neighbor who employed her frequently to sew for her family. It was full of quaint devices, stars anddiamonds forming the border, while in the centre was a wonderful little lamb in the act of performing some very frisky gambols.
"Cannot find what?" demanded Bessie's mother.
"My Madeira nut!" exclaimed Bessie, in a tone of despair. "Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?"
Her mother stopped quilting and turned to look at her.
"Where did you put it last?" she asked. "Surely, Bessie, you ought to remember that."
"I have never put it in but one spot," replied Bessie; "I left it in the drawer of my little table. When you grew better, and the table wasn't needed any more in your bedroom for you to stand your medicines on, I got Nathan to helpme take it up stairs in the garret, just as you bade me, that day last week when he was here spending the afternoon. I thought I would still keep the nut there, for I had grown used to the place, and I liked to go to the drawer and pull it out to look at it sometimes. Oh dear, oh dear!" and Bessie burst into tears.
"Perhaps you haven't searched well," said her mother; "come, I'll go up stairs with you. I shouldn't wonder if it had got caught in the top of the drawer. I have heard of such things. I lost a handkerchief that way myself once."
"But," sobbed Bessie, "it couldn't get caught like that without being broken, because it was so thin shelled, and then I should have seen some of the pieces; or the money would have fallen backinto the drawer, and I would have foundthat."
"How much was in it?" asked her mother. "There could not have been a great deal more than the very first silver Mr. Dart brought you for the cresses, for the rest we have spent from time to time as fast as it was received. I was sorry enough to do it too."
"I wasn't," said Bessie, brightening up a little through her tears, "I was glad and thankful, mother, to have it to spend. If it had not been for the cresses, what would have become of us all the while you were so sick?"
"God always provides for the poor and needy," said her mother gravely, "and I am certain that He who knows even when sparrows fall would not let us suffer. If this help had not sprungup for us through Mr. Dart, something else would have presented itself. Come, now, let us go to the garret and look for the money."
Bessie darted ahead of her mother as they went up the stairs, with a bound and a spring that brought her to the head of the flight when her mother was on the second step. She was young and agile, and besides she was greatly excited and in haste to begin the search. She did not gain any thing by her speed, however, for she had to wait at the landing until her mother had toiled slowly up.
"Now let us look at the drawer," said her mother, when, after pausing a moment to breathe, she moved towards the table. It was a poor little shaky thing, and of a very dilapidated appearance.It was not to be wondered at that as soon as her recovery made its presence unnecessary in her room, she had banished it to the garret whence it had been brought.
"You see there is no trace of it," said Bessie, mournfully, as she watched her mother remove the articles the drawer contained one by one.
No, it was not there indeed.
Bessie pulled out the drawer, and even took the trouble to examine the aperture which contained it, but all was in vain.
"It is certainly very strange," said her mother. "I do not see how, if it were really in this drawer, it could have got out without help."
"Nor I either," added Bessie, half laughing at the idea of a nut walkingoff of itself. "Oh, if I could only find it! I do not mind the nut so much, although dear uncle James gave it to me last Christmas, as I do the money, for you know, mother, I asked you if I might not keep it forever, that is as long as I lived, to remember Mr. Dart's kindness by, and to show, when I grew up, as my first earnings. Oh, I was so proud of those three pieces of silver!"
"What were they?" asked her mother, looking over the contents of the drawer again.
"Don't you remember?" exclaimed Bessie, in a tone of great surprise, as though it were really remarkable to have forgotten. "Don't you remember? There were two twenty-five cent pieces and a ten cent piece!" and Bessie broke into fresh weeping again.
"Don't cry about it, Bessie," said her mother, "you know crying cannot bring them back."
"I wouldn't care," said the little girl, "if it had beenyesterday'smoney, but it was the first,the very firstI ever earned of myself, and I meant to save it always!"
"I think I can tell you exactly how it happened, my child. Just look at the untidy appearance of your drawer. There are scraps in it of a great many things that ought not to be there. Here is a broken slate, your worn-out work-basket, your summer sun-bonnet, empty bottles, spools of cotton, and last but not least, about a quart of hickory nuts,—a nice array, I am sure."
Bessie hung her head. She was ashamed to have her disorderly waysremarked. A want of neatness was her greatest fault.
"I was just going to clear it up to-morrow," she murmured, twitching rather uneasily at her apron strings.
"Oh, my little girl, that 'just going' of yours is one of the saddest things I can hear you say. You are always 'just going,' and yet the time seldom comes that you do as you intend. You are full of good intentions that you are either too lazy or too thoughtless ever to fulfil. If I did not watch over you very sharply, every thing you have would be like this miserable looking drawer, a complete mass of disorder."
"Oh, I hope not!" cried Bessie, quite appalled at the news.
"Now," continued her mother, "I can trace the losing of your money back toyour want of neatness. In all probability, when you came to this drawer some time to get a few of your hickory nuts, you have caught up the Madeira among the others, carried it down stairs, and left the whole pile lying as you often do, somewhere around the garden till you feel in the humor for cracking them. I want to know, in the first place, why your hickory nuts were ever put in this drawer among your books and spools of cotton."
Bessie had been growing warmer and warmer while her mother was speaking, until it seemed to her as though the tips of her ears were on fire. Conviction forced itself upon her mind that her Madeira nut must have gone in the way her mother described, for she remembered distinctly having often taken twoor three handfuls of nuts and carried them in her apron down to the garden, leaving them lying carelessly about her favorite resorts, under the old apple-tree for instance, or on the big flat stone by the brook. She had many just such idle, unsystematic ways of managing. She felt she was in the wrong, so she scarcely knew how to defend herself.
"I don't know why I put the nuts there, mother," she said, "unless it was to get them out of the way. They are those that are left of the basket full I found in the woods by Mr. Dart's farm, one day when Nelly and I went there together."
"Whenwillyou learn neatness, Bessie?"
"I don't know," sobbed Bessie, "never, I 'spect. Seems to me I grow worseand worse. I don't believe I shall be half as good when I am ten as I am now when I'm only nine. I wish I had never gone nutting, and then this would not have happened."
"No," said her mother, smiling, "it never would, for then in all probability you would not have met and become friendly with our good Mr. Dart. Don't make rash wishes, my little Bess, because you are vexed."
"Oh, now I know," cried Bessie, as if struck with a sudden idea, "I put the nuts in that drawer, mother, forsafety. Before that they were lying spread out to dry on the floor, over by that barrel. I remember thinking that they were thinning out pretty fast, and that the rats must have carried some away. I thought that if I put them in thedrawer they would last until I used them up."
"Well," said her mother, "that betters the case a little; but still I must insist that you could have found many more appropriate places. If you had put them in the barrel it would have been far better than among your spools, and I do not know but that it would have been quite as safe."
Bessie's mother went up to the barrel in question, as she spoke, and scarcely knowing what she was doing, shoved it a little with her foot. It was empty, and yielded easily. This change in its position brought to view the space between it and the wall, and there, what did Bessie and her mother see but a nice little pile of hickory nut-shells!
Bessie uttered an exclamation andsprang forward. She took up two or three, and found that a hole had been neatly nibbled in each and the meat subtracted.
"I told you so," she said sorrowfully, letting the shells drop slowly back to the pile; "now I know why my nuts disappeared so fast. I thought at first that Nathan must have helped himself to a few, when he has been here. He often runs up stairs to get something or other to play with, when he stays the whole afternoon, and I guessed the nuts had tempted him. Poor Nathan! I ought to have known better."
Bessie's mother stooped and examined every shell in the pile.
"Perhaps," said she, "master rat has carried off the Madeira too."
"Oh, I hope so," cried the little girl;"do you see any of the pieces of it, mother? He could not harm the money you know, and that is what I care most about getting back."
"It is not here," said her mother, rising, "but perhaps we shall hear something of it yet. I want you to put on your sun-bonnet and look carefully about the garden. Take an hour, or two hours if necessary, but do it thoroughly. I must go down stairs now to my sewing."
Bessie found it very tedious, sad work searching for her lost treasure that afternoon. She went to each of her favorite haunts, and examined them with great minuteness, but no trace of the nut was to be discovered. One thing seemed to her as very strange, however, and that was, that of all the small supplies ofnuts which she had lately carried down to the garden, and of which she did not remember even to have cracked a single one, not so much as a fragment of a shell was now to be found. Only the day before she had left a little strawberry basket half filled, on the big stone by the brook, to which the reader remembers she once led Mr. Dart to survey the cresses. She had meant to sit there and crack and pick them out at once, at her leisure, but something attracting her attention as usual, she did not do so, but deserted both basket and nuts. The basket was there still, but to her surprise, it was quite empty. It lay on its side near where she had left it. No mark of any one having been there was to be seen in the muddy grass.
Bessie took up the basket and gazedat it in silent astonishment. What could it mean? Who would help themselves to her nuts in this way? and why was the basket not carried off also? She was still sitting on the stone thinking the whole singular affair over, when she heard Nathan call to her from the next house, where he lived. She looked up, and there he was leaning over the fence. She had just been thinking of him, and it made her feel unpleasantly to see him.
"Bess," cried he, "what do you think? father is going to give me a ride to town to-morrow."
Bessie scarcely heard him as she rose, and holding up her empty basket, said reproachfully,—
"Oh, Nathan, how could you climb over the fence and take my nuts?"
"Nuts!" echoed Nathan, "what nuts? I don't know any thing about your nuts."
"Somebody does," said Bessie, "for this basket was half full yesterday, and now it is empty. I left it here on the stone all night."
"I never saw it," said Nathan; "that's mighty pretty of you to accuse a fellow of stealing. You had better be a little careful."
"I didn't say youstole, Nathan, I only—"
"Who cares for your old nuts?" interrupted Nathan, "they're not worth the carrying off. Next thing you'll be saying I meddle with your cresses."
"No," said Bessie, a little sadly, "I shouldn't say that. There are only two or three baskets-full of nice ones left, and by next week Mr. Dart will havetaken them all to market. I don'tcareabout my nuts, Nathan, it isn't that, but I should like to know who took them."
"Well,Ididn't, anyhow," said Nathan, "and since you are so cross about it, I shan't stay to talk to you."
He clambered down from the fence and walked away whistling, with his hands in his pockets.
Some way, Bessie felt a presentiment that Nathan knew more than he said about the nuts. She concluded to go in and ask her mother if it could possibly be that he had taken the missing money.
Her mother listened in silence to all she had to utter on the subject. Bessie told her that Nathan was aware, and had been aware from the beginning,where the Madeira nut was kept. She said he was present when she first put it in the drawer, which was indeed true, as the reader knows, and that often since, they had looked at it together.
"My dear," said her mother, when Bessie concluded, "I do not see that you have any thing more thanconjectureon which to found your suspicions. It is very wrong to act on conjecture only."
"But everybody thinks Nat is a bad boy," said Bessie eagerly; "the neighbors say he will do almost any thing. Only last Sunday he pinned the minister's coat tails to the shade of the church window, as he stood talking to Deacon Danbury, after meeting was over. When the minister went to walk off, down came the shade on his head and smashedhis new hat.Ithink that a boy who will do that would take things that do not belong to him."
"Perhaps he might," said her mother quietly.
"Well, shall I ask him about it," demanded Bessie.
"My dear child," said her mother gravely, "your ideas of justice are one-sided. The world would not thrive if every one acted on the principles you seem to advocate. Many an honest man might be imprisoned as a thief if people should take mereconjecturefor proof of guilt, while at the same time, many a thief would pass for an honest man. In law, all persons are supposed innocent, until they areprovedguilty. You did notseeNathan take any thing belonging to you, nor do you know any one whodid. It would be the height of cruelty then, to accuse him without absolute proof."
"Yes," said Bessie, "but suppose hedidtake the nut after all."
"Then," said her mother, "we can only leave the case to that Judge who doeth all things well. It is better for us to suppose him innocent even while he may be guilty, than to suppose him guilty when he is innocent."
"I wish Iknew," said Bessie, as she took up her shears and basket to go out to get the cresses for the next day's market.
"The cold weather will soon put a stop to the cresses, I am afraid," remarked her mother, after a pause.
"Yes," said Bessie, "Mr. Dart saysthey are getting poor now; they do not grow fast after cutting, any more, on account of the frost."
"Never mind," said her mother cheerfully, "in the spring, which after all is not soveryfar off, they will become fine again, and then you can begin to sell as fast as ever. If I am well then, as I hope and trust I shall be, we must not touch a penny of your money, Bessie. It shall all be saved to send you regularly to Miss Milly's school, and buy books for you to learn out of, and perhaps, who knows, there will be something left to put in the bank besides. This fall the cresses have fed our poor, suffering bodies, but next spring, if nothing happens, they shall feed my Bessie's mind."
"School!" cried Bessie, dropping both the basket and the scissors in her delight, "shall Ireallygo to school? And all through the water-cresses? Why, we never thought our dear little brook would make us so rich, did we, mother?"
Oneclear and cold morning in winter, as Bessie was passing along the road that led by Nelly's home, she heard Martin call her from the barn where he was at work. He saw her passing and beckoned to her to come to him. Bessie had the singular habit which most children possess of stopping to ask why she was summoned, when at the same time she fully intended to answer the call in person. So she stood still, and in a loud voice cried,
"Mar-TIN, whatisit? What do you want of me?"
"Come and see!" replied Martin, "I've something nice to show you!" and then he resumed his place at the hay-cutting machine, at which he had been busy when he espied her. He was mincing the hay for the cattle to eat.
Bessie still stood irresolute. She meant to come, but she desired her curiosity to be gratified before she did so.
"Mar-TIN?"
"Well?"
"Can't you tell menowwhat it is?"
"No," replied Martin, going on with his hay chopping; "I guess you will have to come and see for yourself. It almost splits my throat to be calling out to you so."
"I think you might tell me," said Bessie, opening the gate and walking towards him; "you could have doneit in half the time that you have been talking about it. Mercy! have you cut all that pile of hay this morning?"
Sheep and children"A couple of white sheep came running eagerly up to Martin's outstretched hand."—p. 125
"A couple of white sheep came running eagerly up to Martin's outstretched hand."—p. 125
"Yes," said Martin; "it's for the horses. I sprinkle a little water on it, and they like it a great deal better than when it is dry and uncut. It's healthier for them too."
"I am glad I don't live on it," said Bessie. "I should be like the horse that his master fed on shavings,—just as I got used to it I should die."
"Very likely," said Martin, laughing. "Come, and I'll show you what I spoke about." Bessie followed him as he led the way across the yard to the part of the barn where the large folding-doors were situated. They were wide open, and the clear winter sunshine streamed on the floor. An old wagon and a ladderwere placed across this opening, so that no one could come in or go out without climbing over.
"What is this for?" asked Bessie. "This wagon don't belong here, Martin. I never saw it here before."
"That's to keep the cows out," said Martin, smiling. "We have treasures in this part of the barn that it would not do for the cattle to get at. Here Nanny, here Jinny!"
A pattering of little hoofs was heard on the wooden floor, and a couple of white sheep came running eagerly up to Martin's outstretched hand. They rubbed themselves against it, and showed in various other ways how glad they were to see him.
"Aren't they pretty?" said Bessie admiringly. "Come here, Nanny."
But Nanny would not touch Bessie's hand, and backed up the barn, shaking her head at the sight of it, and kicking her delicate little heels in the air.
"They don't know you yet," said Martin, "but they are very tame, and would soon become acquainted if you were with them every day as I am. We have had them two weeks, and already they let me play with them. They are cossets."
"Cossets, Martin?"
"Yes; that means the pets of the flock. The cosset lamb means the pet lamb."
"Pet is a prettier word than cosset," said Bessie; "I should never call them that. I do wish mother had two such nice sheep. But why do you keep them shut up here?"
"You haven't seen all yet," said Martin, smiling; "just creep through this place and round by these wheels, and we will go in and find out why the cows are kept out and the sheep kept in."
Martin helped Bessie through the obstructions, and led her to the back of the barn where, nestled in a heap of clean hay that was piled against the opposite folding doors, she saw a little bundle of something white, in which she could just detect two small, glittering eyes.
"It's a lamb," cried Bessie, skipping about as if she were one herself.
"Two of 'em," said Martin. "Only look here!" and he pulled apart the loose whisps of hay, and there lay revealed two of the fattest, whitest, andprettiest lambs that ever were seen. They did not seem to like being admired, but gave utterance to a little sharp cry very much like a baby's. Hearing it, one of the sheep trotted up, and pushing between them and Martin, quietly began to lick them.
"That's their mother," said Martin. "They are twins, and only two days old. The other old sheep is a twin of this old one, and they are so fond of each other that we cannot keep them separate. At first we were afraid the aunty would injure the young ones, and we shut her out in the barn-yard, but she came and stood at the door, there by the wagon, and cried so piteously that Mr. Brooks told me she might stay in with her sister and her baby nieces. We could not bear to hear her bleat so."
"Don't she bite or tread on them?" asked Bessie.
"No," said Martin, "I think she is very tender with them. This morning one of the men threw a handful of hay accidentally in a lamb's face, and when it tried to push it off but couldn't, what does old aunty do but walk up and eat it away, every whisp. I thought that was quite bright of her, and kind too. On the whole I think they are a happy family."
"Does Nelly like 'em?" asked Bessie, as she patted the head of the one Martin called the "aunty."
"Yes," said Martin, "she thinks they are the handsomest animals on the place. They grow fonder of her every day."
"I hope her father don't mean to havethem killed," remarked Bessie, a little sadly.
"No indeed," cried Martin, "he bought them for pets, and to look pretty running about the meadow in the summer time. He says they are too tame and loving to be killed. I shouldn't like to think of such a thing, I am sure. There,—do see old Moolly poking her head over the wagon! How she does want to come in! She always was our pet before, and I suppose it makes her a little jealous. Poor Moolly,—good little Moolly."
Martin picked up a corn-cob and rubbed the cow's ears. She stood quite still to let him do it, and when he stopped she stretched out her head for more and looked at him as if she had not had half her share.
"Are the little lambs named?" asked Bessie, as she got up from the hay to go.
"No," said Martin; "Nelly's father told her she might call them any thing she wanted, but she thinks they are such funny little long-legged things that she cannot find names pretty enough. When they grow stronger they will frisk about and be full of play."
"I mean to run over to the house to see her and ask her about it," said Bessie. "I am real glad you called me, Martin, to look at them."
Martin went back to his hay-cutting, and Bessie bade him good-by, and skipped along the path to the house. Bessie always skipped instead of walking or running, when she was particularly pleased with any thing. On knockingat the farm-house door, she was told to her great sorrow that Nelly was not within, but when she heard that she had just started to pay a visit to herself, that sorrow was changed to joy, and she turned to go home with a very light heart and a pair of very brisk feet.
"Perhaps I can overtake her," she said to herself; but go as fast as she could, she saw nothing of Nelly on the road. When she reached home, she was so warm with the exercise that it seemed to her as though the day were a very mild one indeed. As she pushed open the door of the kitchen, her eyes were so bright and her cheeks so red from her little run, that her mother looked up from her work and asked what she had been doing.
"Only racing down the hill to find Nelly," panted Bessie, sinking into a chair as she spoke. "Isn't she here? I didn't overtake her."
"No," replied her mother, "Nelly has been here and gone. She was sorry you were out."
"Gone!" echoed Bessie. "Well, if that is not too bad! Mrs. Brooks said she had just started. I am so sorry. Did she tell you which way she was going?"
"No," said her mother, "she did not, but she said perhaps she would stop on her way back. Come, take off your hat and shawl and hang them up, and then begin hemming one of these towels. I am in a great hurry to get them done. They are Mrs. Raynor's, and I promised to send them home to-morrow."
Bessie loved to romp and play much better than to sew, and these words of her mother's did not consequently fill her with satisfaction. She knew, however, that by sewing their living was to be gained, so she choked down the fretful words that rose to her lips. She felt that it was hard enough for her mother to work, without having her repinings to endure also. The glow and cheerful effect of her walk, however, faded away as she slowly untied her hood, and hung it with her shawl on a peg behind the door. She was deeply disappointed at Nelly's absence.
"I wish she would have waited a little while," she said; "I don't see her so often now the winter has set in, that I can afford to miss her. Mother, have you seen my thimble?"
"What!" said her mother, "lostagain, Bessie? What shall I do with this careless girl? There is my old one, you can use that for a little while."
"Oh, now I remember," cried Bessie, springing up, "I left it in the garret, in the drawer of the old table, the last time I was there. I'll get it, and be down again in a moment."
She opened the door at the foot of the stairs, and ran quickly up them. She did not notice that she left the door wide open, and that the cold air rushed into the warm kitchen, nor did she know that her mother, sighing, was obliged to rise from her work and shut it after her.
On went Bessie, and turning the landing, began the second flight, two steps at a time, as usual. She was very lightfooted,and owing to her disappointment about Nelly, she did not feel quite gay enough to hum the little tunes which she generally did when going about the house, so that altogether she scarcely made any noise. Perhaps it was owing to this that, as she reached the head of the garret stairs, she saw something run across the floor, evidently alarmed at her unexpected appearance. She stood still for a moment, hardly knowing what it was, and not wishing to go any further in the fear of frightening it away before she could get a good look at it. She decided at once, however, from its size, that it was not a rat, for it was far too large. It had taken refuge behind some old furniture in a corner, and in the hope that if she kept perfectly still, it would venture out again,she sat down on the top step, and fixed her eyes intently on the spot where she had beheld it disappear. She had remained thus but a short time when she heard hasty footsteps coming from the kitchen, and a voice that she recognized as that of Nelly, called her name. She did not answer, for she wanted to unravel the mystery, whatever it might be, and when Nelly, still calling, followed her up to the stairs on which she sat, she put her finger on her lip by way of enjoining silence, and beckoned to her to come to her. Nelly understood in a moment, and slipping off her heavy winter walking shoes, crept up and sat down beside her.
"Hush!" whispered Bessie, "don't make a sound. There is some sort of a little animal concealed behind thatold fire-board, and I want to see it come out."
She spoke so low that Nelly had difficulty in getting at the sense of what she said, but when she did, she nodded slightly, and the two little girls began the watch together.
They sat there a long, long time.
Once or twice they thought they heard a movement behind the fire-board, but they saw nothing. At last, just as they were becoming very weary of remaining so long in the cold, Nelly caught sight of a small pointed nose, projecting from one side of the board. As this nose moved slowly forward, a pair of bright little eyes came into view also, rolling restlessly about, as if seeking to espy danger. It was with difficulty the children could repress theexclamations that were on their lips, but with an effort they did so, and remained just as quiet as before. Encouraged by the dead stillness, the animal advanced still further from its retreat, peering all the while about it. Its body, as near as they could see, was spotted gray and white, and so were its pretty ears, which were long, and in constant motion. It ran cautiously from its place of concealment, and at last, with a graceful, hurried spring, landed on the top of Bessie's table. Arrived there, it sat down and looked about it again. The children did not move. The drawer of the table, as usual, was partially open, according to Bessie's careless habit, and the little creature put its mites of paws carefully in the crack, bringing themout again almost immediately with a nut, at which at once it commenced to nibble. It was an odd sight as it sat there on its hind legs, holding the nut in its front paws, and twisting and turning it from side to side in order to find a good place to plant its sharp teeth. Nelly glanced at Bessie and longed to burst into a laugh, but Bessie signified to her by a movement of her eye-brows and lips that she must not. It was plain enough by this time that the little thief was a squirrel. Bessie was quite bewildered at the thought that it had been able to get in the house without her or her mother's knowledge. She did not know that the race to which the animal belonged is proverbial for its cunning, and that often it steals away into the habitations of men for no other purpose than to find seeds and grains on which to live.
Some accidental movement which Bessie made, at length startled the squirrel from its sense of security. It leaped lightly from the table to the floor, and disappeared behind some loose blocks of wood, near the fire-board. As it did so, Nelly saw that part of its tail was missing, looking as if torn off at about half its length.
"Bessie!" she exclaimed eagerly, as her companion made a dart for the blocks of wood, "Bessie, as sure as you're alive, that's the same squirrel we saw in the woods, the day we went nutting."
"I know it," cried Bessie; "at leastI am as sure as I can be, for that one was like this, spotted white and gray, and each of them had only a part of a tail. To think of the little thing being so hungry as to come after my nuts! If I can only find its hole, I'll feed it regularly every day."
"Whatcouldbring it so far from the woods?" cried Nelly, laughing. "I never heard of any thing more strange, even in a book."
"You stay here and watch if it comes out again," said Bessie, "and I'll run tell mother. Perhaps she can help find its hiding-place."
Nelly went with her as far as the foot of the stairs to get her shoes, for her feet were now growing very cold. Then she returned to the garret, butnothing more had been seen of the squirrel when Bessie appeared with her mother.
"It was here, just here, that it went out of sight," cried Bessie; "somewhere by these blocks and this old fire-board."
Her mother laughed, and said if there were nothing worse than a squirrel in the house, she should be glad.
"We must look," she added, "and perhaps we can discover its nest; that is, if it has one here, for, Bessie, it has just occurred to me that this is the way your Madeira nut disappeared. If we can find the nest we may find your money too," and she began to move out the furniture from the wall.
At the mention of the Madeira nut, Bessie colored deeply, and really seemed struck with true shame.
"Oh, mother," she said, "to think that I have never, all this while, cleaned out that drawer! Some of the nuts are still in it, and the other things too, just as they were that day when I lost my money. I have meant to clear it out so many times!"
Her mother turned and looked at her sorrowfully.
"Bessie," she said, "I have for years done all I could do, to make a careful, neat little girl, out of a careless, untidy one. I am beginning now to leave you to yourself, hoping that time will help you to see yourself as others see you. I have noticed often that your drawer remained in the same condition, but I did not speak of it."
"Oh, mother," cried Bessie, frightened, "don't leave me to myself,don't. I shallnever learn to be good at all, that way. Oh, don't give me up yet."
"My poor child," said her mother, "if you will onlytry, so that I canseeyou trying, my confidence in you will come back, but not otherwise. I want something more than empty promises. You forget them as soon as you make them."
"But I will try, I willreallytrythistime," said Bessie with tears in her eyes. "I'mlazy, mother, I'mreallazy, but I am not as bad as I might be. I'll clean the drawer just as soon as we look for the nest,sure."
"Well," said her mother, half smiling at the little girl's doleful tone, "well, I will give you this one more chance. We will take the drawer for a new starting point. Come, Nelly, let us search now for the squirrel's hole. Itmust be somewhere about here, for it would never come up by the stairs, I think."
They began a thorough hunt, lifting up every light article in the out-garret, where they were, and dragging the more ponderous furniture from their places. It was a sort of store-away place for things not in every-day use, and therefore it took some time to examine every thing. An occasional pile of nibbled nut-shells was all that was brought to light.
"Well," said Nelly, laughing, as she looked under the last article, a little broken chair belonging to Bessie. "Well, I don't see but that Madame Squirrel has escaped us. I can't meet with a trace of her, for my part, beyond these nut-shells."
"Nor I either," wofully added Bessie.
"Yet how could it have run away from us, since we can find no hole in the floor, and Nelly did not see it run into any of these other rooms?" asked Bessie's mother.
"Perhaps it is hidden in the furniture itself," remarked Nelly.
"Stop a moment," said Bessie's mother, as Nelly began to pull out the drawers of an old bureau, "here are some crossbeams in the wall by the fire-board, that look very much as though a set of sharp teeth had nibbled a hole in them,—yes, it is so! Well, I think we've tracked the squirrel now! The place is such a little way from the floor, that it could jump in and scamper off through the walls, before any one could molest it. Perhaps it is far away in the woods, laughing at us, at this minute."
The children drew near the beams in question, with strong curiosity. It was indeed as Bessie's mother said; there were the marks of teeth in the wood, and just where the beams joined was a hole quite large enough for a squirrel to pass through.
"It is the same one we saw in the woods, I know it is," said Nelly, "but what should bring it here?"
"Perhaps, in time, we can tame it; that is if we have not already frightened it away.MayI try to tame it, mother?"
"Yes," said her mother. "I think Bunny will make a pretty pet. We can strew a few grains of corn, or a few nuts about its hole every day, until it learns to regard us as its friends; but a little girl that I know must get into the good habit of putting her things intheir proper places, and shutting her table drawerstight, or it will continue to help itself to more valuable things, and make itself a plague to us. I do not doubt that Bunny has your money in its nest at this minute. It thought, probably, that it was carrying off a good, sound nut."
"Yes," said Bessie, "and I dare say it was it that ran off with those in my basket, and all the others in the garden. Poor, dear Nathan! I must tell him about it, and ask him to forget my cross words. One of my Sunday-school hymns says, 'Kind words can never die.' I wonder if the unkind words live forever too. Do they, mother?"
"I hope not," was the answer, "but many an unkind word leaves a sting inthe mind of the person to whom it is said, long after the one who uttered it has entirely forgotten it. I don't believe Nathan, for instance, will soon cease to remember that you asked him why he took your nuts. You acted too impulsively."
"Toowhat, mother?" asked Bessie, curiously.
"Tooimpulsively. That is, you did not wait to consider the matter, but spoke out just as you felt, as soon as you saw him. You must certainly ask him to excuse you. If you are always very gentle to him in future, perhaps your offence will be forgotten. There is no end to the soothing effect of those 'kind words that never die!'"
"He was cross enough withmeaboutit," said Bessie, reflectively. "I think a few kind words would not hurthimto say."
"We have nothing to do with Nathan as to that," said her mother. "If he chooses to be ill-tempered, it is his own business, while it is ours to bear it from him patiently. It is only by such means that we can teach him how wrong he is."
"I think that is pretty hard to do," said Bessie, shaking her head, "don't you, Nelly?Ialways want to answer right straight back."
"And if you do," said her mother, "you will find that you invariably make the case worse than before. A noble poet, whose works you may read when you are older, has said, 'Be silent andendure!' and experience will prove to you both, that this silence and this endurance is the true key to happiness. Now, run down stairs, Bessie, and bring me up the little saw. The idea has just come to me, to saw away some of the board at the side of these beams. That will give us a good view of what is going on in the wall, and will not hurt its appearance much, either."
Bessie soon reappeared with the saw, which, as it was small, her mother had no difficulty in handling. She took it from her and began operations at once, inserting the sharp end of it in a crevice in the wood, and moving it gradually across the grain, until the end of the board fell on the floor, where the sawdust already lay.
"Oh, let me see!" cried Bessie, in wild delight at this exposure of the squirrel's haunt. And
"Oh, letmeseetoo!" cried Nelly.
But Bessie's mother said she thought she had better take a peep first, so she lowered her eyes to the aperture and looked in. It was dark, and her eyes, accustomed to the sun-light, at first could distinguish nothing. Gradually, however, she found that she could see a little way around the hole with great distinctness, and it was not long before a small heap of rags, apparently, attracted her attention on one of the corner beams.
"What is it, mother? what do you find?" cried Bessie, as her mother put in her hand to feel what this heap could be. Something warm met thetouch of her fingers, and she drew back, slightly startled.
On examining further, she found that this was indeed the animal's nest, and that these soft, warm objects, curled up in it so nicely, were probably her little young ones.
"There!" she said, laughing, "come see, children, what I have found! Here is the squirrel's nest, and two of her little babies!"
The girls peered eagerly through the hole at these newly discovered treasures.
"The darlings!" cried Bessie, "we can surely tame these little creatures, mother, they are so young. It will be no trouble at all."
"We must not take them from the nest," replied her mother. "If we can tame them by kindness, and by graduallyaccustoming them to our harmless visits, I am very willing to make pets of them."
"Oh, how pleasant that will be," exclaimed Bessie, in an ecstasy. "Do look, Nelly, at their pretty eyes. I don't know but that I shall be just as well satisfied with my two little squirrels as you are with your two lambs."
As she spoke, she put in her hand to touch the tiny animals on the head, and smooth them softly, but something at the side of the nest suddenly arrested her attention, and she did not do so.
"Oh, mother," she cried, "I do believe here is my Madeira nut, among this rubbish and empty hickory shells about the nest. I do believe it,—I do believe it! Itlookslike it, I am positive of that. It seems whole, too. I don't thinkit has been nibbled at all! How glad I am!"
"Can you reach it?" asked her mother; "if you can, do so."
Bessie made what she called "a long arm," and in a moment more she seized the nut and brought it into open daylight.
"Oh, mother," she said, dancing around the garret joyfully, "itismy nut! Here is a little place in the side where the squirrel has bitten, and you can see the money right through it! She found that there was nothing good to eat in it, so she stopped just in time not to spoil it entirely. I am so glad—I am so glad!"