Mrs. O'Brien and her child.Mrs. O'Brien and her child.II.Kate put on her bonnet, and taking the pail of milk, hastened towards the house of the poor sick woman. But she had gone but a little way when she met Fanny Flynn, who was an idle girl, and very fond of mischief."Where are you going, Kate?" asked Fanny."I am going down to Mrs. O'Brien's with some milk.""Give me a drink—will you?""I can't; it is for the poor widow's children. I suppose they won't have any supper till they get this milk.""Yes, they will. I won't drink but a little of it.""No, I can't give you any. It would notbe right for me to do so.""Pooh! You needn't pretend to be so good all at once. You are no better than I am.""I didn't say I was. Only I shall not give you any of this milk, when it is for the poor woman's children; so you needn't ask me," replied Kate, with a great deal of spirit.Some people think, when they do anything that is right, they ought to make a great parade over it; but this only shows that they are not much in the habit of doing right, and they wish to get all the credit they can for it.It was so with Kate. She ought to have been content with merely doing her duty, without "talking large" about it. Fanny felt that she was just as good as Kate, and she was angry when the latter made a needless show of her intention to do what she believed to be right.Fanny and Kate.Fanny and Kate."I don't want it," said Fanny."What did you ask me for it for, then? You wanted to make me do something that was wrong.""You are not always so nice," sneered Fanny."I don't mean to do wrong, anyhow, as some folks do.""Do you mean me?""No matter whom I mean."Fanny was so angry that she walked up to Kate and pulled her "shaker" down over her face. She also used some naughty words when she did so, which I will not repeat.Kate, in her turn, was very angry with the saucy girl, and wanted to "pay" her for what she had done. But Fanny did not wait for any reply, and ran away just asfast as she could.It would have been much better for Kate if she had let her go; but she was so angry she could not do this; she wanted to strike back again. Without thinking of the milk in the pail, she started to run after the naughty girl.For a few moments she ran with all her might, and had nearly caught Fanny, when a stone tripped her up, and she fell upon the ground.Then she thought of the milk, and tried to save it; but the cover of the kettle came off, and it was all spilled on the ground.The fall did not hurt her, but the laugh with which her misfortune was greeted by Fanny roused a very wicked spirit in her heart, and dropping the pail, which she had picked up, she pursued her.But the naughty girl had the start of her, and though she followed her a good way shecould not overtake her. Then she stopped in the path, and cried with anger and vexation. The thought of the milk which had been spilled, was, after all, the worst part of the affair.Walking back to the place where the accident had happened, she picked up the pail again, and began to think what she should do. It was of no use now for her to go to Mrs. O'Brien's. She had no milk for the children's supper.What would her mother say to her if she should return home and tell her she had spilled all the milk? She had told her to be careful, and she felt that she had been very careless.It was not necessary that she should chase the naughty girl, whatever she said; and she could not help seeing that she had been very careless. While she was thinking about it, Ben Tinker came along. He livedin the next house to Mr. Lamb, and the children were well acquainted with each other."What is the matter with you, Kate?" asked Ben, when he saw that her eyes were red, and her face was wet with tears."Ihave just spilled a pailful of milk on the ground," sobbed Kate."O, well, it's no use to cry for spilled milk," laughed Ben."I was carrying it to Mrs. O'Brien.""No matter; she will get along very well without it.""That ugly Fanny Flynn struck me on the head, and that's what made me spill the milk.""Didn't you hit her back?""I couldn't catch her; she ran away. I was chasing her when I fell down and spilled the milk.""You can catch her some time; when youdo, give it to her."But Kate had got over her anger, and heartily wished she had not attempted to catch Fanny. Besides, she very well knew that Ben was giving her bad advice.That passage from the New Testament, "If any man smite thee on the one cheek, turn to him the other also," came to her mind, and she felt how wicked it was to harbor a desire for revenge.The loss of the milk, and what would follow when she went home, gave her more trouble than the injury she had received from the naughty girl."I don't know what I shall do," said she, beginning to cry again, as she thought of her mother."Do? you can't do anything—can you? The milk is gone, and all you have to do is to go home," replied Ben."What will my mother say?""No matter what she says, if she don't whip you or send you to bed without your supper.""She won't whip me, and I have been to supper.""Then what are you crying about?""Mother says I am very careless; and I know I am," whined Kate."Don't be a baby, Kate.""I spoiled a flower this afternoon, and mother scolded me and shook me for it. She told me to be very careful with this milk, and now I have spilled the whole of it.""Well, if you feel so bad, why need you tell her anything about it?""About what?" asked Kate, looking up into his face, for she did not quite understand him."You needn't tell her you spilled the milk. She will never find it out.""But she will ask me.""What if she does? Can't you tell her you gave the milk to the old woman, and that she was very much obliged to her for sending it?""I can do that," said Kate.She did not like the plan, but it seemed to her just then that anything would be better than telling her motherthatshe had spilled the milk; and, wicked as it was, she resolved to do it.Crying for spilled milk.Crying for spilled milk.III.Kate did not think of the poor woman and her hungry children when she made up her mind to tell her mother such a monstrous lie.She did not think how very wicked it was to deceive her mother, just to escape, perhaps, a severe rebuke for her carelessness.She felt all the time that she was doing wrong, but she tried so hard to cover it up, that her conscience was not permitted to do its whole duty.When we are tempted to do wrong, something within us tells us not to do it; but we often struggle to get rid of this feeling, and if we succeed the first time, it is easier the next time. And the more we do wrong, the easier it becomes to put down the little voicewithin us.It was so with Kate. She had told falsehoods before, or it would not have been so easy for her to do it this time. If we do not take care of our consciences, as we do of our caps and bonnets, they are soon spoiled.Did you ever notice that one of the wheels on your little wagon, when it becomes loose, soon wears out? The more it sags over on one side, the weaker it grows. While the wheel stands up straight, it does not seem to wear out at all.It is just so with your conscience—your power to tell right from wrong. While you keep it up straight, it works well, and never wears out. But when it gets a little out of order, it grows worse very fast, and is not of much more value than a lighthouse without any light in it.Kate's conscience had begun to sag overon one side. It was growing weak, and did not remind her of her wrong deeds with force enough to make itself heeded. If she could only escape the reproof of her mother, she did not care.Thus moved by the wicked counsel of Ben Tinker, she hastened home. She tried to look as if nothing had happened, but her eyes were still very red from crying; and her mother wanted to know what had made her cry."Fanny Flynn struck me, and pulled my 'shaker' over my face," replied Kate."What did she do that for?""She asked me to give her a drink of the milk, and because I wouldn't, she struck me," answered Kate, placing her pail upon the kitchen table."She is a naughty girl, and I will go and see her mother about it. What did she sayto you?""She asked me for a drink of the milk.""What did you answer?""I told her it was for Mrs. O'Brien's children, and that it wouldn't be right for me to give it to her, and I would not.""Well, I will see to that. I think it is a pity if I can't send one of my children out on an errand of charity without her being treated in this manner. She shall suffer for it.""She is a naughty girl, mother; and I never mean to speak to her again as long as I live," said Kate, with much apparent earnestness."You did right not to give her any of the milk, and I am glad you did not. I am happy that my daughter has been brave enough to do right, and even to suffer for doing it. You are a good girl, Kate.""I meant to be, mother.""What did Mrs. O'Brien say when you gave her the milk?" continued Mrs. Lamb."She said she was much obliged to you," replied Kate, not daring to look her mother in the face."Did you see the children?""Yes, mother."Mrs. Lamb was going to ask more questions about the family, but something called her attention away, and Kate was saved from telling more falsehoods.She took a book and tried to read, but she could not, for she did not feel like a good girl. The little voice within told her how wicked she had been, and she began to wish that she had not deceived her mother.While she sat with the book in her hand, her father came home; and her mother told him what Fanny Flynn had done. He was very angry when he had heard the story, and asked Kate a great many questions aboutthe affair."You did well, Kate, and I am glad you were so brave and so smart," said Mr. Lamb."Of course I could not give her any of the milk when it was for the poor widow's hungry children.""You did right, Kate," repeated her father. "The poor children might have had to go to bed hungry if you had given up the milk to that bad girl.""I know it, father.""Only think what a sad thing it would have been if the poor little ones had been sent hungry and crying to bed. That Fanny Flynn must be taken care of. When little girls get to be so bold as that, it is high time something was done.""I think so, too, father.""It is time for you to go to bed now, Kate," said her mother."I am ready, mother, for I am tired as Ican be."Kate was glad to get away from her father and mother, for while they were praising her for her good conduct, she knew very well that she did not deserve it.What would her parents think if they knew that she had spilled all the milk on the ground? What would they say to her if they found out that she had told them so many lies?The more she thought of her conduct, the more she felt that she had done wrong. She now saw that, if she had returned home and told her mother the truth, she would have excused the fault, and sent another pail of milk to the poor sick woman's hungry children.She wished she had done so, for it would have been a great deal better to be scolded for her carelessness than to feel as guilty as she now felt. She was sure that it was farbetter to suffer a great deal than to do even a little wrong.She was not satisfied either that her mother would have scolded her, if she had stated the whole truth to her—that Fanny Flynn had made her spill the milk.She went to bed; but when her mother bade her good night, and took the lamp in her hand, she begged her to leave it, for she did not like to be alone in the dark.It seemed just as though a wicked spirit was tormenting her; and though she was in the habit of going to sleep without a light, the darkness was terrible to her at this time. She did not even wish to be left alone, but she dared not ask her mother to stay with her.When Mrs. Lamb had gone out, Kate covered her face wholly under the bedclothes, and shut her eyes as close as she could, trying in this manner to go to sleep.But her guilty conscience gave her no rest.KateThen she opened her eyes, and looked around the room; but everything in the chamber seemed to mock and reproach her. Again and again she shut her eyes, and tried to sleep.The little voice within would speak now, in the silence of her chamber. She had never felt so bad before; perhaps becauseshe had never been so wicked before. Do you want to know why she suffered so much? It was because she could not keep from her mind those hungry, crying children.Kate tells the whole story.Kate tells the whole story.IV.Poor Kate! She had certainly never been so wicked in her life before. The words of her father still lingered in her ears, and she could almost hear the moans of those hungry, crying children.She had never been sent to bed in her life without her supper, and it looked like a dreadful thing to her—perhaps even more dreadful than it really was.If there had been nothing but the falsehoods she had told, she might have gone to sleep; but it was sad to think that she had deprived the poor children of their supper, and sent them hungry to bed. This seemed to be the most wicked part of her conduct.I do not know how many times she turned over in the bed, nor how many times shepulled the clothes over her eyes to shut out the sad picture of those hungry and crying children that would come up before her, in spite of all she could do to prevent it.She tried to think of other things—of the scene with Fanny; of her school; of a picnic party she had attended on the first of May; of almost everything, indeed; but it did no good. The poor children could not be banished from her mind.Kate had been sick with the measles, with the scarlet fever, and the mumps; and she remembered how bad she felt at these times; but it seemed to her now that she would rather have all these diseases at once than suffer from a guilty conscience.When she was sick, her mother bent over her and pitied her, and did all she could to ease her pain; and even when she was burning with fever, and racked with pain, shefelt happier than she did now.She could not inform her mother how bad she felt, for that would expose her guilt. She heard the clock strike nine, and every moment appeared to her like an hour. Those poor little children constantly haunted her; whether her eyes were open or shut, still she saw them crying, and heard them moaning, and begging their sick mother to give them some supper.O, Kate! how severely was she punished for the sin she had committed! Her mother and her father had praised her, but still she was unhappy.Slowly, very slowly, the time passed away and she heard the clock strike ten. She could endure her sufferings no longer; and she burst into tears, sobbing and moaning as if her heart would break.For some time she cried; but as her distress increased, she sobbed and moaned soloud that her father and mother, who were in the adjoining room, heard her, and hastened into the room tofindout what ailed her."What is the matter, my child?" anxiously asked her mother. "Haven't you been asleep since you went to bed?""No mother," sobbed Kate."What ails you? Are you sick?""No, mother.""What are you crying for, then?""O mother!""Why, what ails you, child? Have you been frightened?""No, mother.""Tell us what ails you, Kate," added her father.Both of her parents were greatly alarmed about her, for they loved their little girl very much; and they knew that something must ail her, or she would not have lainawake so long, or have cried so bitterly."Can't you tell us what ails you, Kate?" inquired her mother, very tenderly."I have been very naughty, mother," replied Kate, almost choking with emotion."Naughty, child?""Yes, mother.""I thought you had been very good," added Mr. Lamb."No, I have not; I have been very wicked, and you will never forgive me.""Why, what have you done, Kate? How strange you act, my child!""I can't help it, mother. If you will forgive me this time, I will never be so wicked again while I live.""Tell us all about it, Kate, and we will forgive you," said her father, very kindly.The poor girl sobbed so that she could not speak for some time, for the tenderness of her parents made her feel a great deal worsethan if they had scolded her severely."What have you done, Kate?" repeated Mrs. Lamb."I didn't carry the milk to Mrs. O'Brien, mother," gasped the poor penitent, as she uncovered her eyes, and looked up in the face of her parents to notice the effect of her confession upon them."Didn't carry it to her?" was the exclamation of her father and mother at the same time."No; I spilled it on the ground.""Why, Kate! what did you do that for?""I couldn't help it—I mean I was careless. When Fanny Flynn struck me, I ran after her. My foot tripped, and I fell, and spilled all the milk.""Why didn't you tell me so, Kate?""I didn't dare to tell you; I was afraid you would scold at me, as you did for spoilingthe peony."Kate felt a little better now that she had confessed her fault, and she was able to look her parents in the face."Why, Kate, if you had only told me, I should not have scolded you. You may have been careless, but it was all the fault of Fanny Flynn.""No, mother; I was careless. I forgot all about the milk, I was so angry.""And so the poor children had no supper, after all," added Mr. Lamb."O father! It was what you said about them that made me feel so bad. I am sure I shall never be so very wicked again. Let me carry them some milk now.""What are you talking about? It is after ten o'clock, my child.""No matter, father; I am not afraid to go in the dark, if I can only carry themtheir supper.""No, no, Kate. I will carry them the milk, though it is rather late, and probably they are all asleep by this time.""But will you forgive me, father and mother?""Freely, my child; you have suffered severely already for your fault, and I hope it will be a lesson to you which will last as long as you live," said her father."It will," said Kate, earnestly.Both her parents kissed her, in token of their forgiveness; and Mr. Lamb put on his coat, while Mrs. Lamb went to the cellar for a pail of milk, with which he soon left the house on his errand of kindness and charity.Kate a better girl.Kate a better girl.Kate felt a great deal better then, and before her father returned, she was fast asleep. Mr. Lamb found the poor woman still up. The children had had bread and water, but no milk, for their supper, and shewas very glad to have some for them when they waked up in the night. And she was very grateful to Mr. Lamb for thinking of her at that hour, and thanked God for giving her such kind and thoughtful friends.From that time, Kate was a better girl, and tried hard to reform her life and character. She tried so hard, and succeeded so well, that she very soon lost the name of "Careless Kate."Mr. Lamb went to see Fanny Flynn's parents the next day, and they promised to punish her for her conduct. After that Kate did not provoke her, and they never had any more trouble.Now my readers have seen that Kate's fault led her into falsehood and deception, which are worse than carelessness; and I hope they will all learn to be careful and truthful.NOTHING TO DO.NOTHING TO DO."My kitty is purringUpon the hearth rugRolled up in a bundleJust like a great bug.I wonder what kittyIs thinking about;What makes her so happyI cannot find out."She has no hard lessonsTo bother her brain,No spelling and readingTo study in vain;She ought to be happyWith nothing to doBut play all the morning—And I should be, too."Thus Nellie kept thinking,And spoke out her thought.The words which she utteredHer mother's ear caught."You wish to be idleLike kitty, dear, there,And play all the morning,Or sleep in your chair?""I don't like my lessons;I think 'tis a pityI can't be as happyAs dear little kitty.That ugly old spellingI never can learn!O, into a kittyI wish I could turn!""I am not a fairy,"Her mother replied;"To me all the powerOf magic's denied;But you may be idleFrom morning till night,And see if 'do nothing'Will set your case right.""O, shall I do nothingBut play all day long,And sing with my kittyA holiday song?How happy, and merry,And joyous 'twill beTo have no hard lessons—From study be free!""Do what will best please you;Be idle all day;Recite no more lessons;Do nothing but play."Then Nellie, rejoicing,Flew out of the room;Playedhide,horse, anddolly,And rode on the broom.But long before dinnerPoor Nell had "played out,"And studied, and studied,And wandered about,To find some new pleasure,Some game, or some play,To use up the hours,And end that long day;—And long before eveningWas cross as a bear—Just like the McFlimseyWith "nothing to wear."And tired of nothing,And tired of play,No day was so tediousAs that idle day."O mother! my lessonsI think I will get,And then I can playAs I never played yet.I do not feel happyWith nothing to do;I cannot endure itAnother day through.""I thought so, my Nellie;To make your play sweetYou must work, and be usefulTo those whom you meet.The idle are neverSo happy as theyWho work for themselvesOr for others each day."DOLLY AND I.Mrs. Green took the doll.—Page 146.Mrs. Green took the doll.—Page 146.DOLLY AND I.I.Do you know what envy means? I hope you have never felt it, for it is a very wicked feeling. It is being sorry when another has any good thing. Perhaps you will know better what the word means when you have read my story; and I hope it will help you to keep the feeling away from your own heart.Not far from Mr. Lee's house, in Riverdale, lived a man by the name of Green. He was the agent of one of the factories in the village. Mr. Green had two little girls and three sons. The boys have nothing to do with my story, and for that reason I shallnot say a great deal about them.Katy, Mr. Green's older daughter, was ten years old. She was a pretty good girl, but she did not like to have others get good things, when she did not have any herself. If any person gave one of her brothers an apple, or an orange, she seemed to think she ought to have it.When she was a baby, she used to cry for everything she saw, and would give her parents no peace till they gave it to her. I am sorry to say they were sometimes very weak on this point, and gave her things which she ought not to have had, just to quiet her.Her father and mother hoped, when she grew older, she would not want everything that belonged to her brothers. If Charles had a plaything, Katy wanted it, and would cry till she got it. Very often, just to make her stop crying, her mother made poorCharley give up the thing.But as Katy grew older, she seemed to want everything that others had just as much as ever. She was now ten years old, and still she did not like to see others have anything which she could not have. It is true she did not always say so, but she felt it just as much, and was very apt to be cross and sullen towards those whom she envied.Nellie Green was not at all like her sister. She was only eight years old, but there was not a bit of envy in her. She would give a part, and often the whole, of her apples, oranges, candy, and playthings to her sister, and to her brothers. She liked to see them happy, and when Charley ate an apple, it tasted just as good to her as though she were eating it herself.She was not selfish. She would always divide her good things with her friends. Did you ever see a little boy or a little girleating an apple or some candy, and another little boy or girl standing by, and looking just as if he wanted some?Nellie always gave her friends a part, and then she not only enjoyed what she ate herself, but she enjoyed what they ate. This is the way to make apples, oranges, and candy taste good.One New Year's Day, Katy's aunt, after whom she was named, sent her a beautiful wax doll. It was a very pretty doll, and the little girl was the happiest child in Riverdale when the welcome present reached her.There was another little girl in Riverdale who was almost if not quite as happy; and that was Nellie, her sister. It is true, the doll was not for her; she did not own any of it, and Katy would hardly let her touch it; but for all this, Nellie was pleasedto see her sister so happy.The dolly's name was Lady Jane; for Katy thought, as she was a very fine doll, she ought to have a very fine name. So, when she spoke to the doll,—and she talked a great deal with her,—she always called her Lady Jane. The two little girls had five or six other dolls, but none of them were anything near such fine ladies as Lady Jane. Their heads were made of porcelain, or rubber, or composition, and they had grown so old that they were really ugly.Miss Lucy, who had a rubber head, looked as though she "had been through the wars." Her nose was worn out, so that she had a great hole in the end of it. I suppose, if she had wanted to sneeze, this hole would have been very handy; but Miss Lucy was a very proper young lady, and never sneezed in company. If she ever sneezed when alone, of course there was no one present to knowanything about it.There was another hole right in the top of her head, so that if she had had any brains, they would certainly have leaked out; but as Miss Lucy was not a strong-minded woman, I suppose she had no use for brains.One of the family of dolls was a little black girl, whose name was Dinah. She had seen hard service in her day, and did not look as though she would last much longer.Miss Fanny had once been a fine lady, but times had gone hard with her, and her fine clothes were both ragged and dirty. But hard times were not so very bad, for she wore the same smile as when her clothes had been new and nice.Miss Mary was a poor cripple. By a sad accident she had broken one of her legs. Katy placed her on a table one day, and either because the height from the floormade her dizzy, or because she was laid too near the edge, she had tumbled off, and one leg was so badly broken that neither a wooden nor a cork one could be fastened in its place.Therefore Miss Mary could not walk about the room, and never went anywhere, except when she was carried. But she was not half so badly off as Miss Susie, who had broken her neck, and lost off her head. The head was tied on with a string, but it kept falling off while the family were at play; but Miss Susie did not seem to mind it at all.She got along a great deal better without her head than you or I could without ours. Indeed, she wore the same smile upon her face whether the head was on or off—which teaches us that we ought always to be cheerful in misfortune.Besides these fine young ladies there weretwo or three rag babies; but as you could not tell by the looks of them what they were thinking about, I will not say anything about them. They had no virtues worth telling; they never ate soup with a fork, or gave money to the poor.Some of my readers may not think much of this family of dollies, but I am sure Katy and Nellie had fine times with them. They used to spend hours together with them, and the dollies used to do everything that anybody could do.Miss Fanny used to visit a great deal, in spite of her dirty, ragged clothes; so did Miss Lucy, with two holes in her head, and Miss Mary, with her broken leg, and Miss Susie, with her broken neck. All of them used to go a-visiting, except Miss Dinah, and she, being a black girl, had to do the sweeping and tend the door.These ladies were all of them so bashfulthat they would not speak in company, and Katy andNelliehad to do all the talking for them.But they used to "make believe" the dollies talked, and this did just as well. They used to say just such things as the ladies did who called on Mrs. Green, and never left without being urged to stay longer, and also to call again; which they always promised to do.On the whole, they were very wonderful dollies; at least they were until Lady Jane came, and she was such a fine lady, with her white silk dress and herrealhair, that none of them could shine after that.Miss Fanny and others.Miss Fanny and others.II.One day Flora Lee came to see Nellie Green, and to spend the afternoon with her.It was in the month of November, and the weather was too cold to permit them to play in the garden; so they said they would have a good time in the house.Katy Green had to go away, and could not play with them. Nellie was very sorry for this, for she not only liked to have her sister with her, but she also wanted the company of Lady Jane.She told Flora how sorry she was, and they agreed that it was too bad Katy had to go away, for she was older than they, and could help them a great deal in their plays. Besides, they wanted one fine lady amongthe dollies, for they had a certain play which required just such a person."I wish I had brought Miss Dolly with me. I guess she is fine enough," said Flora."I wish you had," replied Nellie; "but as you have not, we can't help it now. I dare say Miss Fanny will do.""I'll tell you what you can do, Nellie.""What?""You can just ask Katy," said Nellie, at last."Why not? She will let you have her. Ofcourseshe will let you have her," added Flora, warmly."I don't think she will. You know we might break her neck, or lose off her legs or arms; or we might dirty her white silk dress.""But we will be very careful. Let us go and ask her. It won't do any harm to ask her, you know. She can't do any morethan refuse."Nellie did not like to be refused, and she tried to prevent Flora from going any farther in the matter. She was sorry to have it appear that her sister was selfish, and she thought more of this than she did of being refused.Flora said so much that at last she thought Katy might let her have the doll, and they ran downstairs to the sitting room, to have the matter settled."Will you lend us your dolly, Katy?" asked Nellie, and the tones of her voice showed how doubtful she was of the result of the question."What dolly do you mean?" asked Katy."Your wax dolly—Lady Jane.""I am very sure I shall not," replied Katy."We will be very careful of her," added Flora. "We won't let her be hurt a bit—youmay depend on that.""I'm not going to let you have my dolly to break and spoil—I'm sure I shall not," said Katy, who even seemed to be angry because she was asked."But don't I say we won't hurt it a bit?" continued Flora. "And when you come over to my house, you shall have my dolly just as long as you want her; and her house too, and all the chairs and tables and things.""I don't want them.""Do please to let us have Lady Jane," teased Nellie. "We want her ever so much; and I know she won't get broken or dirty. Please to lend her to us, Katy.""I shan't do any such thing; so it's no use to tease me. Why don't you play with your own dollies? I won't lend Lady Jane—that's flat."Nellie felt so bad she could not help crying,—notbecause she could not have the doll, but because her sister was so harsh and unkind. She would not have cared so much if Flora had not been there, for she did not like to have her see her sister behave in this manner.Poor Flora wanted to cry, too, when she saw how badly Nellie felt; but she tried to be brave, and placed her arm round her friend's neck, as if to let her know that she would be kind to her."Come, Nellie, let's go upstairs again. We won't say anything more about it," said Flora; and she led her out of the room."Now you won't like Katy, after this," replied Nellie."O, yes, I will.""Katy would have lent us the dolly, only Aunt Jane gave it to her, and she is afraid it will be broken. If it hadn't been for this, she would have lent us Lady Jane—Iknow she would," added Nellie, wiping away her tears."I dare say she would; but we won't think anything more about it. And when I come over again, sometime, I will bring her something, just to show her that I don't feel hard towards her.""What a dear, good girl you are, Flora! I was afraid you would hate her after what she said.""O, dear, no, I should hope not. My mothertellsme I must love those who don't do what I want them to; and I try to do so; but it is very hard sometimes. I wish you had a wax doll, Nellie. You ought to have one, you are such a good girl, and love your sister so much, even when she is not kind to you.""I wish I had one; it would be so nice to have one like Lady Jane. I should be so happy; but then if only one of us can haveone, I would rather Katy had it than have it myself.""You are not a bit selfish, Nellie. Do you know whatselfishmeans? I do.""I guess I do. It means when you have an apple or any candy to refuse to give a part to your sister.""Yes, or to anybody that happens to be with you. Candy is good, but don't you like to see others eat it almost as well as you do to eat it yourself?""Well, yes, I think I do.""Then you know just what I mean, and I guess we'll play 'visiting' now.""So we will; and Miss Fanny shall be the great lady, and Dinah shall be her servant.""Yes, and this shall be her house," said Nellie, as she placed Miss Fanny in a large arm chair which they were to "make believe"was her elegant mansion."You shall stay here, and I will bring Miss Mary to visit Miss Fanny."Flora bounded over to the other side of the room, which was supposed to be the home of the other dolls, and Miss Mary, in spite of her broken leg, was soon on her way to visit the fine lady."Ting, a ling, a ling!" said Flora, which meant that the caller had rung the bell, and Dinahappearedat the door."Is Miss Fanny at home?" asked Flora, speaking for the lady with the broken leg."No, marm, she is not," replied Nellie, who had to speak for Dinah, because, though her mouth was very large, she could not speak for herself."What an awful fib!" cried Flora. "There she is; don't I see her through the door?""But that's just the way some of thefine folks do," replied Nellie, laughing at Flora's earnestness.
Mrs. O'Brien and her child.Mrs. O'Brien and her child.
Kate put on her bonnet, and taking the pail of milk, hastened towards the house of the poor sick woman. But she had gone but a little way when she met Fanny Flynn, who was an idle girl, and very fond of mischief.
"Where are you going, Kate?" asked Fanny.
"I am going down to Mrs. O'Brien's with some milk."
"Give me a drink—will you?"
"I can't; it is for the poor widow's children. I suppose they won't have any supper till they get this milk."
"Yes, they will. I won't drink but a little of it."
"No, I can't give you any. It would notbe right for me to do so."
"Pooh! You needn't pretend to be so good all at once. You are no better than I am."
"I didn't say I was. Only I shall not give you any of this milk, when it is for the poor woman's children; so you needn't ask me," replied Kate, with a great deal of spirit.
Some people think, when they do anything that is right, they ought to make a great parade over it; but this only shows that they are not much in the habit of doing right, and they wish to get all the credit they can for it.
It was so with Kate. She ought to have been content with merely doing her duty, without "talking large" about it. Fanny felt that she was just as good as Kate, and she was angry when the latter made a needless show of her intention to do what she believed to be right.
Fanny and Kate.Fanny and Kate.
"I don't want it," said Fanny.
"What did you ask me for it for, then? You wanted to make me do something that was wrong."
"You are not always so nice," sneered Fanny.
"I don't mean to do wrong, anyhow, as some folks do."
"Do you mean me?"
"No matter whom I mean."
Fanny was so angry that she walked up to Kate and pulled her "shaker" down over her face. She also used some naughty words when she did so, which I will not repeat.
Kate, in her turn, was very angry with the saucy girl, and wanted to "pay" her for what she had done. But Fanny did not wait for any reply, and ran away just asfast as she could.
It would have been much better for Kate if she had let her go; but she was so angry she could not do this; she wanted to strike back again. Without thinking of the milk in the pail, she started to run after the naughty girl.
For a few moments she ran with all her might, and had nearly caught Fanny, when a stone tripped her up, and she fell upon the ground.
Then she thought of the milk, and tried to save it; but the cover of the kettle came off, and it was all spilled on the ground.
The fall did not hurt her, but the laugh with which her misfortune was greeted by Fanny roused a very wicked spirit in her heart, and dropping the pail, which she had picked up, she pursued her.
But the naughty girl had the start of her, and though she followed her a good way shecould not overtake her. Then she stopped in the path, and cried with anger and vexation. The thought of the milk which had been spilled, was, after all, the worst part of the affair.
Walking back to the place where the accident had happened, she picked up the pail again, and began to think what she should do. It was of no use now for her to go to Mrs. O'Brien's. She had no milk for the children's supper.
What would her mother say to her if she should return home and tell her she had spilled all the milk? She had told her to be careful, and she felt that she had been very careless.
It was not necessary that she should chase the naughty girl, whatever she said; and she could not help seeing that she had been very careless. While she was thinking about it, Ben Tinker came along. He livedin the next house to Mr. Lamb, and the children were well acquainted with each other.
"What is the matter with you, Kate?" asked Ben, when he saw that her eyes were red, and her face was wet with tears.
"Ihave just spilled a pailful of milk on the ground," sobbed Kate.
"O, well, it's no use to cry for spilled milk," laughed Ben.
"I was carrying it to Mrs. O'Brien."
"No matter; she will get along very well without it."
"That ugly Fanny Flynn struck me on the head, and that's what made me spill the milk."
"Didn't you hit her back?"
"I couldn't catch her; she ran away. I was chasing her when I fell down and spilled the milk."
"You can catch her some time; when youdo, give it to her."
But Kate had got over her anger, and heartily wished she had not attempted to catch Fanny. Besides, she very well knew that Ben was giving her bad advice.
That passage from the New Testament, "If any man smite thee on the one cheek, turn to him the other also," came to her mind, and she felt how wicked it was to harbor a desire for revenge.
The loss of the milk, and what would follow when she went home, gave her more trouble than the injury she had received from the naughty girl.
"I don't know what I shall do," said she, beginning to cry again, as she thought of her mother.
"Do? you can't do anything—can you? The milk is gone, and all you have to do is to go home," replied Ben.
"What will my mother say?"
"No matter what she says, if she don't whip you or send you to bed without your supper."
"She won't whip me, and I have been to supper."
"Then what are you crying about?"
"Mother says I am very careless; and I know I am," whined Kate.
"Don't be a baby, Kate."
"I spoiled a flower this afternoon, and mother scolded me and shook me for it. She told me to be very careful with this milk, and now I have spilled the whole of it."
"Well, if you feel so bad, why need you tell her anything about it?"
"About what?" asked Kate, looking up into his face, for she did not quite understand him.
"You needn't tell her you spilled the milk. She will never find it out."
"But she will ask me."
"What if she does? Can't you tell her you gave the milk to the old woman, and that she was very much obliged to her for sending it?"
"I can do that," said Kate.
She did not like the plan, but it seemed to her just then that anything would be better than telling her motherthatshe had spilled the milk; and, wicked as it was, she resolved to do it.
Crying for spilled milk.Crying for spilled milk.
Kate did not think of the poor woman and her hungry children when she made up her mind to tell her mother such a monstrous lie.
She did not think how very wicked it was to deceive her mother, just to escape, perhaps, a severe rebuke for her carelessness.
She felt all the time that she was doing wrong, but she tried so hard to cover it up, that her conscience was not permitted to do its whole duty.
When we are tempted to do wrong, something within us tells us not to do it; but we often struggle to get rid of this feeling, and if we succeed the first time, it is easier the next time. And the more we do wrong, the easier it becomes to put down the little voicewithin us.
It was so with Kate. She had told falsehoods before, or it would not have been so easy for her to do it this time. If we do not take care of our consciences, as we do of our caps and bonnets, they are soon spoiled.
Did you ever notice that one of the wheels on your little wagon, when it becomes loose, soon wears out? The more it sags over on one side, the weaker it grows. While the wheel stands up straight, it does not seem to wear out at all.
It is just so with your conscience—your power to tell right from wrong. While you keep it up straight, it works well, and never wears out. But when it gets a little out of order, it grows worse very fast, and is not of much more value than a lighthouse without any light in it.
Kate's conscience had begun to sag overon one side. It was growing weak, and did not remind her of her wrong deeds with force enough to make itself heeded. If she could only escape the reproof of her mother, she did not care.
Thus moved by the wicked counsel of Ben Tinker, she hastened home. She tried to look as if nothing had happened, but her eyes were still very red from crying; and her mother wanted to know what had made her cry.
"Fanny Flynn struck me, and pulled my 'shaker' over my face," replied Kate.
"What did she do that for?"
"She asked me to give her a drink of the milk, and because I wouldn't, she struck me," answered Kate, placing her pail upon the kitchen table.
"She is a naughty girl, and I will go and see her mother about it. What did she sayto you?"
"She asked me for a drink of the milk."
"What did you answer?"
"I told her it was for Mrs. O'Brien's children, and that it wouldn't be right for me to give it to her, and I would not."
"Well, I will see to that. I think it is a pity if I can't send one of my children out on an errand of charity without her being treated in this manner. She shall suffer for it."
"She is a naughty girl, mother; and I never mean to speak to her again as long as I live," said Kate, with much apparent earnestness.
"You did right not to give her any of the milk, and I am glad you did not. I am happy that my daughter has been brave enough to do right, and even to suffer for doing it. You are a good girl, Kate."
"I meant to be, mother."
"What did Mrs. O'Brien say when you gave her the milk?" continued Mrs. Lamb.
"She said she was much obliged to you," replied Kate, not daring to look her mother in the face.
"Did you see the children?"
"Yes, mother."
Mrs. Lamb was going to ask more questions about the family, but something called her attention away, and Kate was saved from telling more falsehoods.
She took a book and tried to read, but she could not, for she did not feel like a good girl. The little voice within told her how wicked she had been, and she began to wish that she had not deceived her mother.
While she sat with the book in her hand, her father came home; and her mother told him what Fanny Flynn had done. He was very angry when he had heard the story, and asked Kate a great many questions aboutthe affair.
"You did well, Kate, and I am glad you were so brave and so smart," said Mr. Lamb.
"Of course I could not give her any of the milk when it was for the poor widow's hungry children."
"You did right, Kate," repeated her father. "The poor children might have had to go to bed hungry if you had given up the milk to that bad girl."
"I know it, father."
"Only think what a sad thing it would have been if the poor little ones had been sent hungry and crying to bed. That Fanny Flynn must be taken care of. When little girls get to be so bold as that, it is high time something was done."
"I think so, too, father."
"It is time for you to go to bed now, Kate," said her mother.
"I am ready, mother, for I am tired as Ican be."
Kate was glad to get away from her father and mother, for while they were praising her for her good conduct, she knew very well that she did not deserve it.
What would her parents think if they knew that she had spilled all the milk on the ground? What would they say to her if they found out that she had told them so many lies?
The more she thought of her conduct, the more she felt that she had done wrong. She now saw that, if she had returned home and told her mother the truth, she would have excused the fault, and sent another pail of milk to the poor sick woman's hungry children.
She wished she had done so, for it would have been a great deal better to be scolded for her carelessness than to feel as guilty as she now felt. She was sure that it was farbetter to suffer a great deal than to do even a little wrong.
She was not satisfied either that her mother would have scolded her, if she had stated the whole truth to her—that Fanny Flynn had made her spill the milk.
She went to bed; but when her mother bade her good night, and took the lamp in her hand, she begged her to leave it, for she did not like to be alone in the dark.
It seemed just as though a wicked spirit was tormenting her; and though she was in the habit of going to sleep without a light, the darkness was terrible to her at this time. She did not even wish to be left alone, but she dared not ask her mother to stay with her.
When Mrs. Lamb had gone out, Kate covered her face wholly under the bedclothes, and shut her eyes as close as she could, trying in this manner to go to sleep.But her guilty conscience gave her no rest.
Kate
Then she opened her eyes, and looked around the room; but everything in the chamber seemed to mock and reproach her. Again and again she shut her eyes, and tried to sleep.
The little voice within would speak now, in the silence of her chamber. She had never felt so bad before; perhaps becauseshe had never been so wicked before. Do you want to know why she suffered so much? It was because she could not keep from her mind those hungry, crying children.
Kate tells the whole story.Kate tells the whole story.
Poor Kate! She had certainly never been so wicked in her life before. The words of her father still lingered in her ears, and she could almost hear the moans of those hungry, crying children.
She had never been sent to bed in her life without her supper, and it looked like a dreadful thing to her—perhaps even more dreadful than it really was.
If there had been nothing but the falsehoods she had told, she might have gone to sleep; but it was sad to think that she had deprived the poor children of their supper, and sent them hungry to bed. This seemed to be the most wicked part of her conduct.
I do not know how many times she turned over in the bed, nor how many times shepulled the clothes over her eyes to shut out the sad picture of those hungry and crying children that would come up before her, in spite of all she could do to prevent it.
She tried to think of other things—of the scene with Fanny; of her school; of a picnic party she had attended on the first of May; of almost everything, indeed; but it did no good. The poor children could not be banished from her mind.
Kate had been sick with the measles, with the scarlet fever, and the mumps; and she remembered how bad she felt at these times; but it seemed to her now that she would rather have all these diseases at once than suffer from a guilty conscience.
When she was sick, her mother bent over her and pitied her, and did all she could to ease her pain; and even when she was burning with fever, and racked with pain, shefelt happier than she did now.
She could not inform her mother how bad she felt, for that would expose her guilt. She heard the clock strike nine, and every moment appeared to her like an hour. Those poor little children constantly haunted her; whether her eyes were open or shut, still she saw them crying, and heard them moaning, and begging their sick mother to give them some supper.
O, Kate! how severely was she punished for the sin she had committed! Her mother and her father had praised her, but still she was unhappy.
Slowly, very slowly, the time passed away and she heard the clock strike ten. She could endure her sufferings no longer; and she burst into tears, sobbing and moaning as if her heart would break.
For some time she cried; but as her distress increased, she sobbed and moaned soloud that her father and mother, who were in the adjoining room, heard her, and hastened into the room tofindout what ailed her.
"What is the matter, my child?" anxiously asked her mother. "Haven't you been asleep since you went to bed?"
"No mother," sobbed Kate.
"What ails you? Are you sick?"
"No, mother."
"What are you crying for, then?"
"O mother!"
"Why, what ails you, child? Have you been frightened?"
"No, mother."
"Tell us what ails you, Kate," added her father.
Both of her parents were greatly alarmed about her, for they loved their little girl very much; and they knew that something must ail her, or she would not have lainawake so long, or have cried so bitterly.
"Can't you tell us what ails you, Kate?" inquired her mother, very tenderly.
"I have been very naughty, mother," replied Kate, almost choking with emotion.
"Naughty, child?"
"Yes, mother."
"I thought you had been very good," added Mr. Lamb.
"No, I have not; I have been very wicked, and you will never forgive me."
"Why, what have you done, Kate? How strange you act, my child!"
"I can't help it, mother. If you will forgive me this time, I will never be so wicked again while I live."
"Tell us all about it, Kate, and we will forgive you," said her father, very kindly.
The poor girl sobbed so that she could not speak for some time, for the tenderness of her parents made her feel a great deal worsethan if they had scolded her severely.
"What have you done, Kate?" repeated Mrs. Lamb.
"I didn't carry the milk to Mrs. O'Brien, mother," gasped the poor penitent, as she uncovered her eyes, and looked up in the face of her parents to notice the effect of her confession upon them.
"Didn't carry it to her?" was the exclamation of her father and mother at the same time.
"No; I spilled it on the ground."
"Why, Kate! what did you do that for?"
"I couldn't help it—I mean I was careless. When Fanny Flynn struck me, I ran after her. My foot tripped, and I fell, and spilled all the milk."
"Why didn't you tell me so, Kate?"
"I didn't dare to tell you; I was afraid you would scold at me, as you did for spoilingthe peony."
Kate felt a little better now that she had confessed her fault, and she was able to look her parents in the face.
"Why, Kate, if you had only told me, I should not have scolded you. You may have been careless, but it was all the fault of Fanny Flynn."
"No, mother; I was careless. I forgot all about the milk, I was so angry."
"And so the poor children had no supper, after all," added Mr. Lamb.
"O father! It was what you said about them that made me feel so bad. I am sure I shall never be so very wicked again. Let me carry them some milk now."
"What are you talking about? It is after ten o'clock, my child."
"No matter, father; I am not afraid to go in the dark, if I can only carry themtheir supper."
"No, no, Kate. I will carry them the milk, though it is rather late, and probably they are all asleep by this time."
"But will you forgive me, father and mother?"
"Freely, my child; you have suffered severely already for your fault, and I hope it will be a lesson to you which will last as long as you live," said her father.
"It will," said Kate, earnestly.
Both her parents kissed her, in token of their forgiveness; and Mr. Lamb put on his coat, while Mrs. Lamb went to the cellar for a pail of milk, with which he soon left the house on his errand of kindness and charity.
Kate a better girl.Kate a better girl.
Kate felt a great deal better then, and before her father returned, she was fast asleep. Mr. Lamb found the poor woman still up. The children had had bread and water, but no milk, for their supper, and shewas very glad to have some for them when they waked up in the night. And she was very grateful to Mr. Lamb for thinking of her at that hour, and thanked God for giving her such kind and thoughtful friends.
From that time, Kate was a better girl, and tried hard to reform her life and character. She tried so hard, and succeeded so well, that she very soon lost the name of "Careless Kate."
Mr. Lamb went to see Fanny Flynn's parents the next day, and they promised to punish her for her conduct. After that Kate did not provoke her, and they never had any more trouble.
Now my readers have seen that Kate's fault led her into falsehood and deception, which are worse than carelessness; and I hope they will all learn to be careful and truthful.
NOTHING TO DO.
"My kitty is purringUpon the hearth rugRolled up in a bundleJust like a great bug.I wonder what kittyIs thinking about;What makes her so happyI cannot find out."She has no hard lessonsTo bother her brain,No spelling and readingTo study in vain;She ought to be happyWith nothing to doBut play all the morning—And I should be, too."
"My kitty is purringUpon the hearth rugRolled up in a bundleJust like a great bug.I wonder what kittyIs thinking about;What makes her so happyI cannot find out.
"She has no hard lessonsTo bother her brain,No spelling and readingTo study in vain;She ought to be happyWith nothing to doBut play all the morning—And I should be, too."
Thus Nellie kept thinking,And spoke out her thought.The words which she utteredHer mother's ear caught."You wish to be idleLike kitty, dear, there,And play all the morning,Or sleep in your chair?""I don't like my lessons;I think 'tis a pityI can't be as happyAs dear little kitty.That ugly old spellingI never can learn!O, into a kittyI wish I could turn!"
Thus Nellie kept thinking,And spoke out her thought.The words which she utteredHer mother's ear caught."You wish to be idleLike kitty, dear, there,And play all the morning,Or sleep in your chair?"
"I don't like my lessons;I think 'tis a pityI can't be as happyAs dear little kitty.That ugly old spellingI never can learn!O, into a kittyI wish I could turn!"
"I am not a fairy,"Her mother replied;"To me all the powerOf magic's denied;But you may be idleFrom morning till night,And see if 'do nothing'Will set your case right.""O, shall I do nothingBut play all day long,And sing with my kittyA holiday song?How happy, and merry,And joyous 'twill beTo have no hard lessons—From study be free!"
"I am not a fairy,"Her mother replied;"To me all the powerOf magic's denied;But you may be idleFrom morning till night,And see if 'do nothing'Will set your case right."
"O, shall I do nothingBut play all day long,And sing with my kittyA holiday song?How happy, and merry,And joyous 'twill beTo have no hard lessons—From study be free!"
"Do what will best please you;Be idle all day;Recite no more lessons;Do nothing but play."Then Nellie, rejoicing,Flew out of the room;Playedhide,horse, anddolly,And rode on the broom.But long before dinnerPoor Nell had "played out,"And studied, and studied,And wandered about,To find some new pleasure,Some game, or some play,To use up the hours,And end that long day;—
"Do what will best please you;Be idle all day;Recite no more lessons;Do nothing but play."Then Nellie, rejoicing,Flew out of the room;Playedhide,horse, anddolly,And rode on the broom.
But long before dinnerPoor Nell had "played out,"And studied, and studied,And wandered about,To find some new pleasure,Some game, or some play,To use up the hours,And end that long day;—
And long before eveningWas cross as a bear—Just like the McFlimseyWith "nothing to wear."And tired of nothing,And tired of play,No day was so tediousAs that idle day."O mother! my lessonsI think I will get,And then I can playAs I never played yet.I do not feel happyWith nothing to do;I cannot endure itAnother day through."
And long before eveningWas cross as a bear—Just like the McFlimseyWith "nothing to wear."And tired of nothing,And tired of play,No day was so tediousAs that idle day.
"O mother! my lessonsI think I will get,And then I can playAs I never played yet.I do not feel happyWith nothing to do;I cannot endure itAnother day through."
"I thought so, my Nellie;To make your play sweetYou must work, and be usefulTo those whom you meet.The idle are neverSo happy as theyWho work for themselvesOr for others each day."
"I thought so, my Nellie;To make your play sweetYou must work, and be usefulTo those whom you meet.The idle are neverSo happy as theyWho work for themselvesOr for others each day."
DOLLY AND I.
Mrs. Green took the doll.—Page 146.Mrs. Green took the doll.—Page 146.
Do you know what envy means? I hope you have never felt it, for it is a very wicked feeling. It is being sorry when another has any good thing. Perhaps you will know better what the word means when you have read my story; and I hope it will help you to keep the feeling away from your own heart.
Not far from Mr. Lee's house, in Riverdale, lived a man by the name of Green. He was the agent of one of the factories in the village. Mr. Green had two little girls and three sons. The boys have nothing to do with my story, and for that reason I shallnot say a great deal about them.
Katy, Mr. Green's older daughter, was ten years old. She was a pretty good girl, but she did not like to have others get good things, when she did not have any herself. If any person gave one of her brothers an apple, or an orange, she seemed to think she ought to have it.
When she was a baby, she used to cry for everything she saw, and would give her parents no peace till they gave it to her. I am sorry to say they were sometimes very weak on this point, and gave her things which she ought not to have had, just to quiet her.
Her father and mother hoped, when she grew older, she would not want everything that belonged to her brothers. If Charles had a plaything, Katy wanted it, and would cry till she got it. Very often, just to make her stop crying, her mother made poorCharley give up the thing.
But as Katy grew older, she seemed to want everything that others had just as much as ever. She was now ten years old, and still she did not like to see others have anything which she could not have. It is true she did not always say so, but she felt it just as much, and was very apt to be cross and sullen towards those whom she envied.
Nellie Green was not at all like her sister. She was only eight years old, but there was not a bit of envy in her. She would give a part, and often the whole, of her apples, oranges, candy, and playthings to her sister, and to her brothers. She liked to see them happy, and when Charley ate an apple, it tasted just as good to her as though she were eating it herself.
She was not selfish. She would always divide her good things with her friends. Did you ever see a little boy or a little girleating an apple or some candy, and another little boy or girl standing by, and looking just as if he wanted some?
Nellie always gave her friends a part, and then she not only enjoyed what she ate herself, but she enjoyed what they ate. This is the way to make apples, oranges, and candy taste good.
One New Year's Day, Katy's aunt, after whom she was named, sent her a beautiful wax doll. It was a very pretty doll, and the little girl was the happiest child in Riverdale when the welcome present reached her.
There was another little girl in Riverdale who was almost if not quite as happy; and that was Nellie, her sister. It is true, the doll was not for her; she did not own any of it, and Katy would hardly let her touch it; but for all this, Nellie was pleasedto see her sister so happy.
The dolly's name was Lady Jane; for Katy thought, as she was a very fine doll, she ought to have a very fine name. So, when she spoke to the doll,—and she talked a great deal with her,—she always called her Lady Jane. The two little girls had five or six other dolls, but none of them were anything near such fine ladies as Lady Jane. Their heads were made of porcelain, or rubber, or composition, and they had grown so old that they were really ugly.
Miss Lucy, who had a rubber head, looked as though she "had been through the wars." Her nose was worn out, so that she had a great hole in the end of it. I suppose, if she had wanted to sneeze, this hole would have been very handy; but Miss Lucy was a very proper young lady, and never sneezed in company. If she ever sneezed when alone, of course there was no one present to knowanything about it.
There was another hole right in the top of her head, so that if she had had any brains, they would certainly have leaked out; but as Miss Lucy was not a strong-minded woman, I suppose she had no use for brains.
One of the family of dolls was a little black girl, whose name was Dinah. She had seen hard service in her day, and did not look as though she would last much longer.
Miss Fanny had once been a fine lady, but times had gone hard with her, and her fine clothes were both ragged and dirty. But hard times were not so very bad, for she wore the same smile as when her clothes had been new and nice.
Miss Mary was a poor cripple. By a sad accident she had broken one of her legs. Katy placed her on a table one day, and either because the height from the floormade her dizzy, or because she was laid too near the edge, she had tumbled off, and one leg was so badly broken that neither a wooden nor a cork one could be fastened in its place.
Therefore Miss Mary could not walk about the room, and never went anywhere, except when she was carried. But she was not half so badly off as Miss Susie, who had broken her neck, and lost off her head. The head was tied on with a string, but it kept falling off while the family were at play; but Miss Susie did not seem to mind it at all.
She got along a great deal better without her head than you or I could without ours. Indeed, she wore the same smile upon her face whether the head was on or off—which teaches us that we ought always to be cheerful in misfortune.
Besides these fine young ladies there weretwo or three rag babies; but as you could not tell by the looks of them what they were thinking about, I will not say anything about them. They had no virtues worth telling; they never ate soup with a fork, or gave money to the poor.
Some of my readers may not think much of this family of dollies, but I am sure Katy and Nellie had fine times with them. They used to spend hours together with them, and the dollies used to do everything that anybody could do.
Miss Fanny used to visit a great deal, in spite of her dirty, ragged clothes; so did Miss Lucy, with two holes in her head, and Miss Mary, with her broken leg, and Miss Susie, with her broken neck. All of them used to go a-visiting, except Miss Dinah, and she, being a black girl, had to do the sweeping and tend the door.
These ladies were all of them so bashfulthat they would not speak in company, and Katy andNelliehad to do all the talking for them.
But they used to "make believe" the dollies talked, and this did just as well. They used to say just such things as the ladies did who called on Mrs. Green, and never left without being urged to stay longer, and also to call again; which they always promised to do.
On the whole, they were very wonderful dollies; at least they were until Lady Jane came, and she was such a fine lady, with her white silk dress and herrealhair, that none of them could shine after that.
Miss Fanny and others.Miss Fanny and others.
One day Flora Lee came to see Nellie Green, and to spend the afternoon with her.
It was in the month of November, and the weather was too cold to permit them to play in the garden; so they said they would have a good time in the house.
Katy Green had to go away, and could not play with them. Nellie was very sorry for this, for she not only liked to have her sister with her, but she also wanted the company of Lady Jane.
She told Flora how sorry she was, and they agreed that it was too bad Katy had to go away, for she was older than they, and could help them a great deal in their plays. Besides, they wanted one fine lady amongthe dollies, for they had a certain play which required just such a person.
"I wish I had brought Miss Dolly with me. I guess she is fine enough," said Flora.
"I wish you had," replied Nellie; "but as you have not, we can't help it now. I dare say Miss Fanny will do."
"I'll tell you what you can do, Nellie."
"What?"
"You can just ask Katy," said Nellie, at last.
"Why not? She will let you have her. Ofcourseshe will let you have her," added Flora, warmly.
"I don't think she will. You know we might break her neck, or lose off her legs or arms; or we might dirty her white silk dress."
"But we will be very careful. Let us go and ask her. It won't do any harm to ask her, you know. She can't do any morethan refuse."
Nellie did not like to be refused, and she tried to prevent Flora from going any farther in the matter. She was sorry to have it appear that her sister was selfish, and she thought more of this than she did of being refused.
Flora said so much that at last she thought Katy might let her have the doll, and they ran downstairs to the sitting room, to have the matter settled.
"Will you lend us your dolly, Katy?" asked Nellie, and the tones of her voice showed how doubtful she was of the result of the question.
"What dolly do you mean?" asked Katy.
"Your wax dolly—Lady Jane."
"I am very sure I shall not," replied Katy.
"We will be very careful of her," added Flora. "We won't let her be hurt a bit—youmay depend on that."
"I'm not going to let you have my dolly to break and spoil—I'm sure I shall not," said Katy, who even seemed to be angry because she was asked.
"But don't I say we won't hurt it a bit?" continued Flora. "And when you come over to my house, you shall have my dolly just as long as you want her; and her house too, and all the chairs and tables and things."
"I don't want them."
"Do please to let us have Lady Jane," teased Nellie. "We want her ever so much; and I know she won't get broken or dirty. Please to lend her to us, Katy."
"I shan't do any such thing; so it's no use to tease me. Why don't you play with your own dollies? I won't lend Lady Jane—that's flat."
Nellie felt so bad she could not help crying,—notbecause she could not have the doll, but because her sister was so harsh and unkind. She would not have cared so much if Flora had not been there, for she did not like to have her see her sister behave in this manner.
Poor Flora wanted to cry, too, when she saw how badly Nellie felt; but she tried to be brave, and placed her arm round her friend's neck, as if to let her know that she would be kind to her.
"Come, Nellie, let's go upstairs again. We won't say anything more about it," said Flora; and she led her out of the room.
"Now you won't like Katy, after this," replied Nellie.
"O, yes, I will."
"Katy would have lent us the dolly, only Aunt Jane gave it to her, and she is afraid it will be broken. If it hadn't been for this, she would have lent us Lady Jane—Iknow she would," added Nellie, wiping away her tears.
"I dare say she would; but we won't think anything more about it. And when I come over again, sometime, I will bring her something, just to show her that I don't feel hard towards her."
"What a dear, good girl you are, Flora! I was afraid you would hate her after what she said."
"O, dear, no, I should hope not. My mothertellsme I must love those who don't do what I want them to; and I try to do so; but it is very hard sometimes. I wish you had a wax doll, Nellie. You ought to have one, you are such a good girl, and love your sister so much, even when she is not kind to you."
"I wish I had one; it would be so nice to have one like Lady Jane. I should be so happy; but then if only one of us can haveone, I would rather Katy had it than have it myself."
"You are not a bit selfish, Nellie. Do you know whatselfishmeans? I do."
"I guess I do. It means when you have an apple or any candy to refuse to give a part to your sister."
"Yes, or to anybody that happens to be with you. Candy is good, but don't you like to see others eat it almost as well as you do to eat it yourself?"
"Well, yes, I think I do."
"Then you know just what I mean, and I guess we'll play 'visiting' now."
"So we will; and Miss Fanny shall be the great lady, and Dinah shall be her servant."
"Yes, and this shall be her house," said Nellie, as she placed Miss Fanny in a large arm chair which they were to "make believe"was her elegant mansion.
"You shall stay here, and I will bring Miss Mary to visit Miss Fanny."
Flora bounded over to the other side of the room, which was supposed to be the home of the other dolls, and Miss Mary, in spite of her broken leg, was soon on her way to visit the fine lady.
"Ting, a ling, a ling!" said Flora, which meant that the caller had rung the bell, and Dinahappearedat the door.
"Is Miss Fanny at home?" asked Flora, speaking for the lady with the broken leg.
"No, marm, she is not," replied Nellie, who had to speak for Dinah, because, though her mouth was very large, she could not speak for herself.
"What an awful fib!" cried Flora. "There she is; don't I see her through the door?"
"But that's just the way some of thefine folks do," replied Nellie, laughing at Flora's earnestness.