Bessie in the City

Bessie in the City

I.

LITTLE FRIENDS AT HOME

"MAMMA," said Maggie Bradford, as she sat upon the floor in her mother's room, lacing her walking boots, – "mamma, I wish I had another terrible fault."

"Why, Maggie!" said Mrs. Bradford.

"I do, indeed, mamma, – a dreadful fault, something a great deal worse than carelessness."

Mrs. Bradford was busy unpacking trunks and arranging drawers and closets; for the family had just come home from the sea-shore, where they had been spending the summer; but she was so surprised to hear Maggie say this that she turned around with her hands full, to look at her little daughter. She saw that Maggie was very much in earnest, and had some reason for this strange wish.

"And why do you wish that, daughter?" she asked.

"Because, mamma, if I had such a fault, people would be so very anxious I should cure it. Oh, dear! there's another knot in my shoe-string!" and Maggie gave a jerk and a hard pull at her boot-lace. "I do not at all wish to keep it, only to break myself of it."

"But why should you wish for a fault which would grieve your friends and trouble yourself only that you may be at the pains of curing it, Maggie? You have faults enough, dear; and if they are not what may be called very terrible, they are quite serious enough to need all your attention, and you should be thankful that it does not require a harder struggle to overcome them."

"I know that, mamma," answered Maggie, with a very grave face; "but then you see if my friends wished me very much to cure my fault, perhaps they would offer me money to do it. You know when I used to be so very, very careless, Grandpapa Duncan paid me for trying to do better, so that I might help earn the easy-chair for lame Jemmy Bent. And I want money very much, – a great deal of it, mamma."

"But that would be a very poor reason for wishing to rid yourself of a bad fault, my child. And why do you want so much money? It seems to me that you have everything given to you which a reasonable little girl can want; and besides you have your weekly allowance of six cents."

"Yes, ma'am," said Maggie, with another jerk at her boot-lace; "but Bessie and I want to save all our allowance for Christmas. We want to have two whole dollars, so that we can give presents to every one of the family and all the servants and Colonel and Mrs. Rush. And we have told every one that we are going to do it, so it would not be quite fair to take the money for anything else; would it, mamma?"

"Not if you have promised to spend it in that way," said Mrs. Bradford, with a smile at the thought of how much the two dollars were expected to furnish; "but it is wiser not to make such large promises. You should have been very sure that you wished to spend your money for presents before you said you would do so."

"But I do wish to use it for that, Mamma, and so does Bessie, but we have another plan in our minds. Bessie and I like to have plans, and this is a charity plan, mamma, and will take a great deal of money. There, now, there's that boot-lace broken! I just believe that shoemaker sells bad laces on purpose to provoke little girls. Something ought to be done to him. It's such a bother to lace my boots, and 'most always just when I have one done, the lace breaks. It's too bad!"

"Yes, it is too bad, Maggie, quite too bad that you should destroy so many laces; but I scarcely think Mr. White does his work poorly on purpose to vex his little customers. It is your own impatience and heedlessness, my daughter, which are to blame. You pull and drag at your shoe-strings, not taking time to fasten them properly, and of course they knot and break. That is the second one this week, and last week, also, you destroyed two. You say you wish to learn to dress yourself, that you may be a useful and helpful little girl; but you make more trouble than you save when you tear the buttons and strings from your clothes, or knot and fray your shoe-laces. It would have been much more convenient for me to put on your boots for you than it is to leave what I am doing to find a lace among all these trunks and boxes. Do you see, Maggie?"

"Yes, mamma," said Maggie, looking very much mortified, "but do you not think my carelessness is any better?"

"Indeed, I do, pussy. I do not wish to take from my little girl any of the credit she deserves, and you need not look so distressed. You are much more careful than you were six months ago; you have tried hard, and improved very much; but you have still something to do in that way, dear. I think you will find the old faults quite troublesome enough without wishing for new ones to cure."

"Yes, ma'am," said Maggie, "but then – "

"Well, dear, but then – what?"

"Why, mamma, I wouldn't feel as if it was quite right to wish to be paid twice over for curing myself of the same fault, and Grandpapa Duncan might think it was not fair."

"You are right, Maggie," said Mrs. Bradford, "and I am glad to hear you say that; but I should like to understand why you and Bessie wish for a great deal of money. If it is for a good purpose, I think I can put you in the way of earning some."

"Oh, would you, mamma? That would be so nice! Bessie," – as her little sister came into the room, dressed for her walk, and followed by Jane with Maggie's hat and sack in her hand, – "Bessie, mamma thinks she can let us earn some money."

"Thank you, mamma," said Bessie; "that is delighterful. I am so glad."

"I will tell you what it is for, mamma," said Maggie.

"Not now, dear," said Mrs. Bradford; "it is time for your walk, and you must let Jane put on your things. When you come home, you shall tell me, and meanwhile, I will be thinking in what way I can help you. But remember, I only promise to do so if I think well of your plan. You may think it a very wise one, while I may think it very foolish."

"Oh, mamma," said Maggie, "I am quite sure you will think this is wise. Mrs. Rush made it, and she is so very good that it must be quite right."

"Yes, I think any plan Mrs. Rush proposes for you will be a safe one," said Mrs. Bradford, with a smile.

"You mean you have trust in her, mamma?" said Bessie.

"Yes, dear. I can trust her. She is a true and faithful friend to me and to my little ones," answered Mrs. Bradford, as she stooped and kissed first one and then the other of her little girls. "And now good-by, my darlings. I will hear all when you come back. I hope you will have a pleasant walk."

"I shall not, mamma," said Maggie, with a solemn shake of her curly head. "I am so very anxious to tell you, and to hear what we can do, that I shall not enjoy my walk at all. I wish I could stay at home."

But Maggie found herself mistaken; for the day was so bright and pleasant, the park so cool, green, and shady, and so full, of other little children, that she not only enjoyed her walk very much, but for the time quite forgot her plan and her wish to earn money. And in the park, our little girls met a friend whom they were very glad to see. They were running down one of the broad paths, when Bessie saw an old gentleman coming towards them with a pleasant smile on his face. She stood still to take a second look, and then called to her sister.

"Oh, Maggie, here's our dear friend, Mr. Hall!"

"Why, so it is!" said Maggie, in glad surprise, for this was a very unexpected pleasure.

Mr. Hall lived but two or three doors from Mr. Bradford, and as he generally came for a walk in the park after his breakfast, Maggie and Bessie were almost sure to meet him when they were out in the morning. But he was not apt to be there in the afternoon, and so they had not looked for him at this time.

It so happened that Mr. Hall had stepped out upon his front stoop just as Mrs. Bradford's little flock started for their walk; and there he saw them all going down the street. He put on his hat, took his gold-headed cane, and walked out after them.

"Mr. Hall, I am very pleased to see you," said Bessie.

"And so am I, Mr. Hall," said Maggie.

"And I am very much pleased to see you," said Mr. Hall; "but I should like to know what has become of two little granddaughters of mine, who went away to the sea-shore two months since. I thought I should find them in the park; but in their place I find two little strangers, who have no name for me but Mr. Hall."

"Oh, I forgot, – Grandpapa Hall," said Maggie.

"Dear Grandpapa Hall," said Bessie, "please don't let your feelings be hurt, 'cause we only forgot for one moment. You know it's so long since we saw you."

"And did you forget me while you were away?" asked Mr. Hall.

"Oh, no," said Bessie, "we thinked about you very often, and talked about you too."

"Well, let us sit down and talk a little," said Mr. Hall, as he seated himself on a bench, and made Maggie and Bessie take their places, one on each side of him. "And so you came back from Quam Beach yesterday?" he said.

"Yes, sir," said Bessie, – "yesterday, in the afternoon. How did you know it?"

"Oh, I saw the carriages drive up, and papa and mamma and a whole regiment of little folks pouring out of them. I came out this morning, expecting to find you in the park, but you were nowhere to be seen."

"No," said Bessie, "mamma was so busy nurse and Jane had to help her, so we could not take our walk."

"Ah, to be sure, I might have thought of that, and called for you myself."

"But we helped mamma too, and she said we were of great use to her, so we could not have gone out," said Maggie.

"That was right," said Mr. Hall. "Always be of use to dear mamma when you can."

"We can't do much," said Bessie; "we are too little."

"I do not know about that," answered Mr. Hall. "These little hands and feet can help mamma a good deal, if they are only willing. If you can do nothing else, you can be quiet and patient when she is busy. If you do not make trouble, you save trouble."

"And we can 'muse baby," said Bessie.

"So you can. Halloa, little man! How do you do?" This was said to Franky, who had just come up with Jane.

Franky remembered Mr. Hall quite well, and he also remembered how the old gentleman used to give him sugar-plums out of his pocket.

"Welly well," he answered. "Me want sudar-plum."

"Oh, you naughty boy!" said Maggie.

"Dear, dear," said Mr. Hall. "I quite forgot the sugar-plums this afternoon. When I saw my little friends going up the street, I thought of nothing but the pleasure of joining them, and hurried out as quickly as I could."

"Dive Franky sudar-plums," said the child again.

"Oh, Franky!" said Bessie, "don't be so yude. You make us very mortified. Please to 'scuse him, Mr. Hall; he don't know any better, 'cause he's only three years old."

Mr. Hall laughed and offered Franky his stick to ride on, but the little boy would not take it; and when he found he could not have the sugar-plums, walked away with an offended air, which amused the old gentleman very much, though it distressed his sisters, who thought him very impolite.

"And now tell me about Quam Beach," said Mr. Hall. "You liked it very much, did you?"

"Yes, sir," said Bessie, "the sea is there."

"And you were fond of the sea?"

"Oh, yes, sir! it is beautiful, and it has waves, and they come up on the beach and bring the sea-weed and shells, and make such a pleasant sound. And we could see so far, far away out over the water, and we saw the ships and steamers too. And there are yocks that we could sit on and play on, and we liked it so much. I wish there was a sea here, Grandpapa Hall. Did you ever go to the sea-shore?"

"Yes, often, and I have been to Quam Beach, and thought it quite as pleasant as you seem to have found it."

"We used to have clam-bakes," said Maggie.

"And go out in the boat," said Bessie.

"And in the wagon for straw rides, and to swing in the barn," said Maggie.

"And over to the hotel to see grandmamma, and Colonel and Mrs. Yush," said Bessie.

"Who are Colonel and Mrs. Rush?" asked Mr. Hall.

"Old friends of papa and mamma, and new friends of me and Maggie," answered Bessie; "and we love them – oh, so much!"

"Colonel Rush is an English soldier," said Maggie, "and he was shot in a battle, so his foot had to be cut off, and he has been very sick, but he's better now."

"And they came to the city with us yesterday," said Bessie, "and went to the hotel; and Mrs. Yush is going to have a class on Sunday, and we are to go to it."

"Are you going to leave your Sunday-school?" asked Mr. Hall.

"I never went to Sunday-school," said Bessie. "Maggie did, but mamma thought I was too little; but she said I might go to Mrs. Yush, 'cause it was not too far. Mrs. Yush can't go to Sunday-school, 'cause she must yide to church with the colonel, and she cannot come back for him in time. Maggie's teacher is going away, and she is to go to Mrs. Yush too, and Lily Norris and Gracie Howard."

"We are all to go to her on Sunday mornings," said Maggie; "and when she and the colonel go to church, they are to take Bessie, if it is too cold for her to walk; so now she can go to church 'most every Sunday. Last winter she went very seldom because mamma thought the walk too long for her, and was afraid she would take cold. Don't you think it is a very nice 'rangement, Grandpapa Hall?"

"Very," said Mr. Hall, smiling at Maggie's long word, – "a very nice arrangement; and I think Mrs. Rush must be a very kind, good lady."

"She is," answered Maggie, "she's lovely."

"Grandpapa Duncan says she is as good as she is pretty, and as pretty as she is good," said Bessie.

"And the colonel is very good too," said Maggie, "and they are both very fond of us."

"That shows them to be sensible people," said Mr. Hall. "I think I must make the acquaintance of this famous Colonel and Mrs. Rush. Will you introduce me to them?"

"Oh, yes, we will," answered Bessie, "and perhaps you'll see the colonel in the park some day. He says he shall come and walk here when he feels well enough. He's going to live over there in the hotel;" and Bessie pointed to the great white building that fronted the park.

"And how is Grandpapa Duncan?" asked Mr. Hall.

"Very well, and Uncle John and Aunt Helen are well too, and Nellie is better, and has ever so many new teeth. Quam Beach did her a great deal of good. Papa and mamma are going to Riverside the day after to-morrow, and Maggie and I are going with them."

"I think I know some one beside Nellie to whom Quam Beach has done good," said Mr. Hall. "There is some color in these little cheeks which were so pale when you went away, and you are stronger and more able to run about; while as for Maggie, she has become quite a roly-poly."

"Mr. Hall," said Bessie, "do you know what we are going to bring from Riverside?"

"No, how should I, when no one has told me?"

"Our little dog that Donald, the gardener, gave us," said Bessie. "His name is Flossy, and he's old enough to leave his mother now; so we are to have him at home."

"Oh, I remember you told me about him in the spring. So his name is Flossy; is it?"

"Yes, sir, and he's Maggie's and mine. Do you think he will be lonely without his puppy brothers?"

"Not with two such nice little playmates as you and Maggie," said Mr. Hall. "You must bring him out every day and let him have a run in the park."

"Yes, sir, and papa is going to buy him a collar with his name on it and where he lives, so people will know he is ours if he yuns away."

"Very good," said Mr. Hall, "and now suppose we walk around a little, or nurse will think I am keeping you quiet too long."

II.

MAGGIE'S PLAN

MAGGIE thought of her "plan" again as soon as she reached home, and she and Bessie scampered away to their mamma's room to see if she were ready to attend to them. She was dressing for dinner, and so they knew they might go in and talk to her, for she said this was "Maggie's and Bessie's hour," and as she dressed, used to tell them stories, or teach them some pretty verses, or listen to them if they had anything to tell her.

"Mamma," said Maggie, "have you thought of any way that I can earn money?"

"You must tell me what it is wanted for, Maggie."

"We want to buy a library, mamma."

"What library, dear?"

"A mission library, mamma. You know my Sunday-school teacher, Miss Winslow, is going to marry a missionary; but he is not a heathen missionary."

"I hope not," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling. "You mean, I suppose, that he is not going to India to teach the heathen, but is what is called a home missionary."

"Yes, ma'am, that is it. Mrs. Rush says that he is going far out West, where the people have very few churches or Sunday-schools and scarcely any books, and they are very ignorant, and don't know much about God or how Jesus came to die for them, and I am afraid Miss Winslow wont be very comfortable out there, mamma, 'cause they don't have nice houses like ours, but just rough ones made of logs, which they call log cabins. You know Miss Winslow is a lady, and I am afraid she wont like to live in a place like that."

"Miss Winslow has thought of all that, my darling; but she is willing to put up with these hardships for the sake of carrying the glad message of salvation to those poor people."

"Yes, mamma, and Mrs. Rush says that most of them are very glad to hear it, and so glad to have the books the missionaries bring, and Mr. Long, the gentleman Miss Winslow is to marry, is going to try and have some Sunday-schools for the children who live in log cabins; and the other day, when Mrs. Rush was talking to us about having the little class in her room on Sunday, she asked us if we would not like to buy a Sunday-school library to send to those poor little children, when Miss Winslow and her missionary go out there. You can buy a nice little library for ten dollars, mamma; just think, ten dollars!"

"Yes, I know, Maggie; but ten dollars is a great deal of money for two such little girls as you and Bessie to raise in less than four months. Miss Winslow is to leave soon after the first of January, and this is now the tenth of September."

"But Bessie and I are not to do it by ourselves, mamma. Gracie Howard and Lily Norris are to help; it is to come from the class, and Mrs. Rush says if we cannot do it alone, she will help us; but she thinks the little log-cabin children will like it better if they hear it was all sent by other little children here, and we would like it better ourselves."

"And Gracie and Lily are going to try and earn money too?" asked Mrs. Bradford.

"They have their share, mamma. Gracie's grandmamma, who lives in England, always sends her some money on her birthday, – a – a – I forget what she calls it, but she says it is as much as five dollars."

"A pound?" said Mrs. Bradford.

"Yes'm, that is it. Gracie says she will give half of the money her grandmamma sent the other day, and Lily has a hundred dollars in her father's bank, and he pays her money 'cause she has it there."

"That is called paying interest," said Mrs. Bradford.

"And she has some of that saved up," said Maggie, "and she will have more before Christmas; so her share will be ready too; but Bessie and I have no money except our six cents a week, and that, you know, we promised to spend another way. And we don't want to be helped, mamma, but to try and earn the money by ourselves, if we only knew how. Do you not think it is a very nice plan, and that the log-cabin children will be very glad when they see the books?"

"I think it a very good plan, dear, and I will try to help you. You know, Maggie, we were saying this morning that you were still not quite as careful as you might be. Now I do not much like to pay you for trying to break yourself of a bad habit, but as this is for a good purpose, I will tell you what I will do. Every month between now and January, I will put by a dollar for your gloves and boot-laces. This is much more than enough to keep you well supplied, if you take proper care of them, but if you keep on losing your gloves, breaking your boot-laces, and so forth, as you do now, you will have none left for any other purpose. And remember, I cannot let you do without such little things as you may need, for the sake of the library. I cannot have you going without gloves, or with such as are torn or out at the fingers, or with broken or knotted shoe-strings. I must still keep you neat, and shall buy for you whatever I may think necessary. But if you care enough, as I hope you do, for the little Western children to be thoughtful and saving, you may still keep as much of this money as will go a good way toward your share of the ten dollars."

"And am I to have money put by for me, too, mamma?" asked Bessie.

"Yes, dear, if you wish it, I will do the same for you."

Maggie did not look as pleased as her mother had thought she would.

"What is it, Maggie?" she asked. "Does not this please you? Are you not willing to try both to help those little children, and to cure your own fault at the same time?"

"Oh, yes'm, I am willing, and I think you are very kind. But Bessie will keep a great deal more money than I shall. You know you said the other day that I had three pairs of gloves where Bessie had one."

"Never mind, Maggie," said Bessie, "I think I'll lose a few gloves."

"No, no," said Mrs. Bradford, laughing and shaking her head, – "no, no, that will not do. I cannot have one little sister trying to destroy or lose her things in order that she may be no better off than the other. And I am quite sure my Maggie would not be envious if Bessie saved more than she did."

"But I may say I will not give more money than Maggie does for the library; may I not, mamma? You know it is more hers than mine, 'cause she was Miss Winslow's scholar."

"You may do just as you please about that, dear. Each one may give as much or as little as she likes, if it is fairly earned or saved. And I can put Maggie in the way of earning money by work if she wishes for it."

"How, mamma?" asked Maggie, eagerly.

"I have several dozens of towels to be hemmed, and I intended that Jane should do them all; but I will keep out one dozen for you, and will pay you five cents apiece. And they must be done, not at your regular sewing lesson, but at other times."

Now if there was one thing more than another which Maggie disliked, it was sewing. She always called the half-hour during which her mother taught her to sew "the worst time of the day." It was strange, too, for she had quick and skilful fingers, and sewed remarkably well for a little girl of seven, and people generally like to do that which they do well. But it was not so with Maggie, and her face grew very sober when her mother said she might hem her towels.

"But, mamma," she said.

"Well, dear?"

"Mamma, you know I cannot bear to sew. I do so hate it! And a dozen towels, – that means twelve, don't it? – why, I should never, never have them done."

"It shall be just as you choose, dear. I do not say you must do them, only that you may. But, Maggie, we can seldom do much good to others without taking some trouble or using some self-denial ourselves."

"I do not know what self-denial is, mamma."

"Self-denial is to give up something we would like to have, or perhaps to do something that is disagreeable or troublesome to ourselves, for the sake of another. This morning I gave you two plums, – one for yourself, one for Bessie. One was much larger than the other, and I saw that you gave it to Bessie, keeping the smaller one for yourself. That was self-denial."

"But, mamma," said Maggie, "that was not anything much. I could not do such a greedy thing as to give my own Bessie the little plum and eat the big one myself. I would be too ashamed."

"I am glad to say that neither of my little girls is greedy or selfish," said mamma. "Do you remember the day at Quam Beach when your head was hurt, and Tom Norris came up to read a new book to you?"

"Oh, yes'm, it was so kind of him; and he read 'most all the afternoon."

"When he was on his way to our house, Mr. Howard met him and asked him to go with him to see the wreck, but although Tom had been wishing very much to go, he refused because he thought you would like him to come and read to you. That was self-denial. Mr. Long and Miss Winslow do not like to leave all their friends and their comfortable homes to go out West, but they are willing to do it, that they may teach those poor people who have no one to tell them of Jesus. That is self-denial. And if my Maggie were to take her time to hem towels for the sake of the little Western children who have no books, that would be self-denial. And there was one great self-denial, greater than any other the world can ever see. Do you know what that was, my darling?"