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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/79239-0.txt b/79239-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..05233a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/79239-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4486 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79239 *** + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Timidly walking up to the door Bryda tapped +gently.] + + + + + MIXED PICKLES. + + A STORY FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. + + + By MRS. E. M. FIELD. + + + + _WITH THIRTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS BY T. PYM._ + + + + A. L. BURT COMPANY, + PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER I. + Idle Hands + + CHAPTER II. + A Princess + + CHAPTER III. + Another Terrible Scrape + + CHAPTER IV. + What Can I Do? + + CHAPTER V. + Old Roger + + CHAPTER VI. + Uncle Jack's Story + + CHAPTER VII. + Beppo + + CHAPTER VIII. + The Rest of the Story + + CHAPTER IX. + A Prince in Disguise + + CHAPTER X. + Beppo's Friend + + CHAPTER XI. + Dreadfully Frightened + + CHAPTER XII. + Some Use for Moll + + CHAPTER XIII. + More About Beppo + + CHAPTER XIV. + Beppo in Trouble + + CHAPTER XV. + Up a Tree + + CHAPTER XVI. + Poor Moll + + CHAPTER XVII. + Where Thieves Break Through + + CHAPTER XVIII. + Friend, Go Up Higher + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +"Pussy, Pussy! Come here, Puss." + +Maurice Gray, with his queer little Scotch Terrier, Toby + +Maurice fills the Syringe and sets to work + +Timidly walking up to the door Bryda tapped gently + +And where the water fell this Spring rose up + +For a whole week there were Games + +The Fairy came flying over the Town + +"Little Boy," said Bryda shyly, "where do you live?" + +"Our Father," Bryda prayed, "let me help Beppo." + +Tom, who had now become a Poet + +Bryda after looking around for Beppo, seized the Cat + +Bryda and Beppo amuse themselves walking about the Field + +Only one word, too--"Speranza." + +Bryda appeared to have thrown the Reading Book to the other end of +the room + +Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook her fist + +Bryda laughed, and then looked solemn + + + + +MIXED PICKLES. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +IDLE HANDS. + +Bryda was very lonely! Not because she was alone, for she was rather +fond of wandering off by herself, away from every one else, and +talking to herself and to the birds and flowers, and still more to +any little stream that came in her way. But then to be alone because +you fancy it, and to be alone because there is no one to play with, +are two very different things, and the last was Bryda's case. + +"If I had even a kitten," she said aloud, standing before the sundial +in her grandmother's old-fashioned garden, and looking at the shadow +that did not seem to move at all. Bryda had read of King Hezekiah, +for whom the shadow moved backward; she wished it would move a little +forward for her, and bring tea time, after which meal she might go +and sit by the couch of her invalid cousin, Salome, who had soft +fingers that rested soothingly on her rumpled hair, and a soft low +voice that told pleasant stories pleasantly, and good long ones, too. + +[Illustration: (Bryda standing at the sundial)] + +"If I had only a kitten!" + +Why, only yesterday, before Uncle Jack went away and took all the +brightness of the house with him, he said he thought there were +kittens in a loft over the stable, and he would try and catch one for +Bryda. But he had gone off on a shooting expedition, and would not +be home for days and days. And he did not know how lonely Bryda was. + +You see her father and mother had gone abroad a fortnight before this +lonely day, and had left her in charge of grandfather and +grandmother. They were very kind, but they were so old, and so fond +of going to sleep in their chairs with very grave books before them, +always open at the same place, that Bryda thought they looked more +like two wax figures from Madame Tussaud's--put, one on either side +of the fire in winter and of the big window in summer--than like real +people. + +They had lived so long, probably, that they could not care much about +anything. If you told any striking piece of news to grandmother she +only said, "Say it again, my dear. I'm a stupid old woman. Sit down +beside me, speak slowly, and always remember to wipe your shoes on +the mat." + +If you had just rushed in full of the great news that the robin's +blue eggs in that dear little nest by the garden door were gone, and +four gaping, featherless darlings were there instead, you felt that +it was much worth while to try and make grandmother enter into the +delight of the surprise. And when you had told her, she would only +say, "Very nice, my dear; very charming, I'm sure. Now run out +again, and don't get freckled." After which she would smooth down +her heavy watered-silk gown, and doze over the big grave book again. + +And grandfather was worse. He had long white hair, and a very long +white beard, and bushy white eyebrows; so that there were only two +round spots on each cheek bone, and a very narrow strip of +forehead--unless you included his nose--on which to kiss him, without +burying your face in white hair dusted with snuff. For grandfather +took a great deal of snuff, and if you--that is, if Bryda--went to +talk to him, he would say, when he was awake enough to listen, "Yes, +yes, my dear, quite so, exactly so. Give me a kiss, my dear; give me +a kiss. I want a bite from those cherries on your cheeks." + +And then came the difficulty of kissing grandfather (who did not like +to be refused) without kissing the white, snuff-scented beard, which +was only to be avoided by a sudden and rapid peck at the two rosy +circles on his cheeks, or the little bits of forehead between the +long locks. + +When Bryda's mother went away her last words were: + +"Be good to the grannies, my darling, and do all they tell you; and +don't forget father and mother." + +Here the mother's voice trembled and broke, and she got very quickly +into the carriage. + +Forget! Oh, no, Bryda could not forget And she tried "to be good to +the grannies" by kissing grandfather whenever he wished, much as she +disliked the operation, and trying to remember all grandmother said +about dry shoes, and sitting in draughts, and eating slowly, and +putting on pinafores, and various other little matters we are all +familiar with. + +Uncle Jack was quite different. We shall hear more of him. But +perhaps the house was a little too quiet for him; he was so often +away. + +The dullness did not matter to Cousin Salome. She lay in bed all the +morning, and was carefully wheeled into a little sunny sitting-room +in the afternoon; and there, when the pain was not too bad (for she +had hurt her back, and would never be well again), she was always +ready to welcome Bryda with that quiet smile on her white, loving +face, that was like moonlight on a sea that sings low and sadly on a +summer night. + +Uncle Jack was away, and Cousin Salome worse, and the governess who +was to come and teach Bryda had not arrived; and so, as we have seen, +Bryda was very lonely, and very much in want of a kitten. She looked +herself rather like a kitten that has got wet, for a kitten never +looks so forlorn as she did unless it is quite wet, and perhaps muddy +too. + +But in two minutes after this bright idea had struck her Bryda looked +much like the same kitten when it has been dried by a nice warm fire, +and fed on creamy milk, and has licked its paws and washed its face, +and is ready for the next ball of wool that some one will be kind +enough to throw on the floor for it to play with. + +Gathering some ripe summer pears, and hastily stuffing them into the +pockets of her pinafore, Bryda, hurried off to the stable. It was +locked, but the key was in the door; it turned easily, and she found +herself as she entered rather near the heels of the fat old +carriage-horses, Gog and Magog. But they would not kick; they were, +or seemed, as old and sleepy as their master and mistress. Gog in +particular would really rather be stung by a horsefly than take any +particular trouble about brushing it away. They were not animals +suited to Bryda's taste, however much grandmother might appreciate +their steady ways, They were like those horses of whom the little +girl in the poem could find nothing more interesting to tell than that + + "The tails of both hung down behind, + Their shoes were on their feet." + + +And John, the coachman, was as fat, and old, and lazy as they were. +Altogether the family coach, when the dear old folks were in it, was +quite a curiosity. They went for a short drive every day, one day +along one of the roads outside the lodge gates, and the next day +along the other, turn about, and always to the same distance, which +Uncle Jack called "going to there-and-back-again." Only on Sunday +they went to church, which was a very short way indeed, only just +outside the gates in fact, and on that day they did not sleep in the +carriage as they did on the other six days. + +But if Bryda was, as a treat, taken for a drive, it really was a +little dull. Both the grannies went to sleep, and nodded so that +poor Bryda was really afraid their heads might come off; and John the +coachman looked as if he were asleep, and Gog and Magog went along at +such a slow, solemn trot that they might well be walking in their +sleep, too. + +So Bryda was not much afraid that either of these grave old horses +would take the trouble to kick her. But she had not the same +confidence in Uncle Jack's high-spirited hunter, Paddy, who lived in +a big stall with a bar at the end, called a loose box, in which he +could walk about; and now he put his handsome head with the white +star on the forehead over this bar, and looked at Bryda as much as to +say, "What business have you here?" + +Next to Paddy's loose box there was a ladder, which went up through a +hole in the ceiling into the loft where hay was kept, and where Uncle +Jack said kittens lived. + +Carefully closing the stable door, Bryda, with her heart certainly +beating unusually fast, climbed the ladder without stopping to think +what grandmother would say, and was soon up in the loft--a delightful +place, with a raftered roof, and little windows with sprays of Ivy +pushing their way in, as if to remind the scented hay that it once +grew outside and was called green grass. + +It was a nice place! and, oh, joy! from a dark corner came the sound +Bryda longed for, a kitten's "mew!" It was not the voice of an +elderly cat, but the plaintive little "mew" of a kitten, and Bryda, +as she went toward the sound, could see a pair of very round, bright +eyes. Carefully, not to frighten the little creature, she went +toward it; but, alas! kittens born in lofts are apt to be wild and +shy, and in spite of all her coaxing, "Pussy, pussy! Come here, +puss!" the round, bright eyes went further off, and finally the +kitten took refuge in the darkest corner of all. But Bryda was not +going to be beaten by a kitten. Treading carefully and slowly, she +came nearer; one step more and she would reach the soft, furry thing. +Another moment, and it was in her arms; and Bryda, delighted, sat +down on a heap of hay, and hugged it, saying, "Now, kitty, let's +pretend!" + +[Illustration: "Pussy, pussy! Come here, puss!"] + +What fun the games are that begin "Let's pretend!" Why, one can be a +king, a queen, a judge, or a lord chancellor. We can grow up in two +minutes into happy people, who do no lessons, and can order exactly +what they like for dinner every day, and need not go to bed at the +dreadfully early hour we young folks must. + +Then, merely to eat a pear is so dull! Grown people have parties to +amuse them at dinner, the very dogs growl and play with their bones, +and the cats act a little play over every mouse they catch. + +So Bryda would be Queen Elizabeth seated on a throne, dining off +goose on that Michaelmas day when news came of the defeat of the +great Spanish Armada. The kitten should be the messenger, a pear +should be the goose. Bryda had just read this story in her English +history. Hay makes a capital throne; Bryda piled one up, and had +just sat down with much dignity, when---- + +Have you ever heard people say, when something awkward happened, they +would like to go through the floor? Poor Bryda did! She suddenly +tumbled right through the scattered hay--right through the ceiling! + +She was not really hurt, only a little bruised, after all; for she +had fallen into a sort of deep cage with strong wooden bars, into +which hay was pushed down from the loft, and the bottom of this cage +was inside Paddy's loose box, close to the manger. So that the first +thing Bryda knew, when she recovered herself enough to look round, +was that Paddy was standing looking at her, and seemed very much +surprised, as well he might be, for little girls were not generally +kept in the loft along with the hay, or poked into his stall for him +to make his dinner off. + +In fact, it is very likely that, if she had only known it, the big, +beautiful creature was much more afraid of her than she of him. + +Indeed, she was very much afraid, and grew more and more frightened +as the horse, finding she did not move, came a few steps nearer, and +then began snuffing at her. If she were to try to climb into the +loft again, which did not seem very easy, he might--he probably +would--bite her long black legs, she thought. + +It would not be very easy to climb into the loft either; the cage was +so very deep. What was the unfortunate child to do? Paddy kept on +sniffing at her, the real reason being that he could smell the pears +in her pinafore pocket. Bryda could smell them too, and a bright +idea struck her. She remembered a fairy tale about a princess who +softened the hard heart of a lion by feeding him with cake. Perhaps +this nice juicy fruit would have the same good effect on Paddy. +Perhaps, too, while he was eating it she might escape. Cautiously +she drew one out, and it went into the horse's big mouth as a +gooseberry would have gone into her own, and was as quickly +swallowed. That was a bad plan; he wanted more at once. The next +she threw on the ground; and while Paddy stooped his sleek curved +neck to pick it up, she made a desperate effort to escape. + +In vain! Hardly had she risen from her cramped position and made a +struggle to get her hands up to the floor of the loft, when the +bright eyes and big mouth were back again, and dreadfully near her +legs! + +"Oh, don't! _don't_! Paddy!" cried Bryda. "Here, you may eat all my +pears, but really I know I should not taste nice; so please don't +bite me." + +The remaining pears were soon gone; but when they came to an end the +difficulty still remained, and Paddy could not be brought to see that +he could have no more simply because there were no more. So he +sniffed and sniffed, poking his nose more and more between the bars, +and showing those dreadful teeth. He only wanted pears; but Bryda +grew perfectly wild with fright, and finally, when Paddy actually +touched her hand with a hot nose, she could bear it no longer, but +gave first one wild shriek and then another, and another, till the +spirited horse, terrified by the noise, plunged about in the loose +box, adding still more to her dismay; and even Gog and Magog pricked +up their ears, and looked round, as if they would say, "Please don't +spoil our digestion by this dreadful screaming." + +To Bryda's joy, however, the stable door opened, and old John came +tottering slowly in. + +"Oh, John! John! save me! Don't let me be eaten up!" implored +Bryda, as soon as she saw him; while Paddy became more composed, and +stopped prancing. + +Old John scratched his head; that was natural. Then he very +deliberately walked toward the ladder, muttering: + +"Well, I'm blessed if this 'ere ain't the rummiest go as ever I see!" + +Which, you will observe, was not the sort of English one finds in the +dictionaries; but then John was born before the days of school boards. + +"Oh, John! make haste!" cried Bryda again. + +But really it was a terribly long time before John climbed the +ladder, and gave his hands to the frightened child, who was soon safe +on the floor of the loft. + +"Be you hurt, miss?" asked old John, looking at her as if she were a +china figure that might have lost an arm or a leg in the fall. + +But Bryda was not hurt; only she trembled from head to foot, and, +after thanking John, turned away and walked with a grave face into +the garden again, and to the foot of the old sundial. + +The shadow had only moved on half an hour. Bryda tried to hold her +hand in such a way as to make another shadow, that should come +further over the dial. But that was a bad imitation of the real +thing, and made her think of one evening when Uncle Jack had told +her, with such a serious face, to take a candle, and go to see the +time by the old sundial; how she had actually gone, and had only +remembered when she got there that the sun was in bed, and therefore +could not tell her what she wanted to know. + +Up the pillar on which stood the dial two very large snails were +crawling--oh, so slowly! They seemed to go even more slowly than the +long hot hours. + +How amusing it would be to make them run, or rather crawl races! +Bryda gathered a nice fresh leaf, and put it at one edge of the dial. +Then she startled the two snails at the ether end, and for the next +hour or so was perfectly happy watching them, and starting them again +and again. + +But at the end of that time the biggest and fattest snail gave up the +game in disgust, finding he never could enjoy his leaf quietly when +he _had_ got it, because a giant hand always came, and would put him +back at the starting-place. + +So he drew in his horns first, and then went bodily into his house, +which those gentlemen conveniently carry on their backs. There he +sulked, and would come out no more; so Bryda threw him into a +cabbage-bed, and went indoors. + +Bryda had so many funny ways of amusing herself that Uncle Jack, who +was very fond of making jokes, declared she "lived in a jar of mixed +pickles." Indeed, these same amusements often ended by becoming +small scrapes, which he called Bryda's pickles; and we shall see that +they were of all sorts, and really "mixed." + +None are very wise at eight years old, and many of us are, like my +little Bryda, very anxious to do right and be of some use in the +world. So we will follow her as she goes into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A PRINCESS. + +Cousin Salome would see her now, and so Bryda went to the invalid's +room. + +"You look very miserable, darling," said the soft voice +compassionately, as Bryda, after kissing her cousin, stood looking +dolefully out of the window. + +"I am very miserable, Cousin Salome," she answered, feeling that she +had good cause for misery. + +"Very miserable, when you can run about and be out of doors with the +sunshine and the birds and the flowers! There must be something very +bad the matter. Come and tell me all about it." + +Bryda knelt by the couch, a little ashamed of herself. Cousin Salome +might well be miserable, so ill that she could never again hope to +walk in the sunny, scented garden. + +"It's easy for you to be good, I suppose, cousin," she said. "You +lie here all day, and don't find any mischief to get into." + +The last words were said as if mischief was a sort of thing that came +to you, and asked you to get into it--in the same way as roast pigs +run about in the fairy country, holding out a knife and fork and +crying, "Eat me, do! please!" + +"So mischief is the cause of the great misery!" said Cousin Salome, +smiling, and drawing the little girl nearer to her. "Tell me what +was the last piece of mischief." + +Bryda told all about her adventure with Paddy, and ended: + +"Oh, Cousin Salome, I've nothing to do!" + +"That's the beginning of all mischief, I am afraid, darling. Do bees +and birds get into mischief? Not they, they are too busy." + +"Well, I would make honey or a nest if I knew how," said Bryda, +laughing. "If I could paint a picture like this, I should be happy." + +Cousin Salome had been painting. She could only do a little at a +time and that with difficulty; but she had drawn a very beautiful +figure of a young girl in a rich, old-fashioned dress, sitting by an +open window, through which could be seen a great plain and a large +town some way off. The girl's face was full of wonder, and rather +sad, and she looked away at the sunset sky, as if she were thinking +of something very puzzling. Bryda took up the picture and looked at +it. + +"That is Princess Isabel of Montenaro; she is doing what you are +doing now, Bryda." + +"What I am doing, cousin?" + +"Yes; wondering what she ought to do. Do you see the town beyond the +green park? That was her father's capital, and a dreadful sickness +broke out there, so that people died by hundreds. But the king was a +hard-hearted man, and spent the days in feasting and hunting, and +paid no heed to the people's sufferings." + +"Oh, do tell me the story!" cried Bryda eagerly. + +Cousin Salome smiled. + +"The story, as I have it, is in verse. You would not like that, +Bryda?" + +"Oh, yes, yes! Please read it." + +"Can't you read it yourself?" asked Salome slyly. + +"Oh, _no!_" with great energy. "Reading is quite different from +being read to. Why, the story _tastes_ quite ten times nicer when +you listen to it!" + +So Cousin Salome opened a book that lay near, and began to read in +her gentle, tired voice, the story of the little picture she had +painted of the Princess Isabel. + +The story was all in verse, and it was a little hard for Bryda to +understand; but it told how the princess could not bear to know that +others were suffering without trying to help them. So, while the +sounds of her father's noisy feast came up into her quiet room, +Princess Isabel rose up, took off her fine dress and her jewels, and +dressed herself very simply. Then, followed only by two of her +ladies, who were unselfish like herself, Isabel went down on foot to +the plague-stricken city, and there remained, nursing the sick and +caring for the poor, till the dreadful plague was at last gone. +Meantime the king thought he could forget all about it. and spent +his time in hunting and feasting; but the pestilence came even into +his palace, and he and many of his gay court died. + +Isabel was not touched by it; and when the sad time was over she +remained in the city working for the poor people, and helping them +till she died, never thinking of her own comfort. So the people, +after she was dead, loved to call her Saint Isabel. + +"Thank you," said Bryda, and drew a long breath when the story was +finished. She had perhaps not understood it all, but one thing was +clear. + +"The princess was never idle, Cousin Salome. So I expect she never +got into mischief. But I don't think it was nice for her to have no +playtime." + +"She could wait for her playtime, dear," answered Cousin Salome +gently. "She would enjoy it all the more, perhaps, because she had +worked so hard." + +The sick lady turned a little and looked out at the quiet evening. +Noisy rooks were flying home to roost, meek cows slowly walking off +to be milked; on a large tree a peacock and his two wives were +settling themselves for sleep. + +Bryda looked out of the window, too. + +"I think the stars are afraid of the great big sun, Cousin Salome. +Do you see the way they first poke out their heads, and look to see +if he is really gone, and then come right out to do their little +shining?" + +Cousin Salome laughed, and the deep lines that sickness had written +seemed to grow fainter, and make her younger and rounder. + +"Their little worktime is just beginning. They look as if they came +out smiling, with clean bright faces, ready to do as they are bidden." + +"Poor Cousin Salome!" said Bryda, stroking the thin white hand that +lay weak and idle on the soft coverings. "You can't work or play +either. You must be very unhappy. I should be." + +"When I was your age, darling, I built myself grand castles in the +air. Oh, how many nice things I meant to do when I grew up! But I +was given a different sort of work, a much harder one to me, dear +child--the work of patiently doing nothing." + +Bryda looked sorely puzzled. + +"Never mind," went on Cousin Salome. "You are not set to that work, +Bryda, nor to a great work like Princess Isabel's. Just now you will +find there are plenty of little works ready for you to do--little +crumbs of which to make a great loaf." + +"Picking up grannie's stitches when she drops them? asked Bryda. +Grandmother's knitting was often in that sort of state. + +"That may be one thing. They are plenty more. Shall I tell you an +old German story, about the use of little things? + +"Once upon a time some people lived in a plain, at the edge of which +there was the sea. They lived here long and happily; but one sad day +the sea began to rise and overflow the plain, creeping every day a +little nearer the prosperous village. + +"So the people were sorely frightened, and tried to build earthworks; +but the sea washed away at night what they had done in the day. + +"These were days very long ago, when, according to the old stories, +God would answer men from heaven when they called to Him. + +[Illustration: (Bryda and Salome)] + +"So the people prayed and asked God to send them His great angels, +that they might make hills for them to protect their homes and fields +from the terrible waters. + +"But God answered, 'My angels have already their work; they cannot +help you in this. But to-morrow, at sunrise, I will send to you an +army of My laborers; they shall make you sand-hills.' + +"So the villagers were very glad, and next morning they rose early, +before the sun, wondering what sort of laborers these would be. + +"'Perhaps the happy spirits of our fathers will come back to help us; +perhaps men from the south country--a kind and friendly people--will +be sent to work for us. Perhaps----' + +"But all their wonder was in vain, and it was changed to surprise and +dismay when, as the sun rose, they saw coming swiftly from the east +an army of--what do you think, Bryda?" + +"Lions and tigers?" asked Bryda, with wide-open eyes. "Elephants? +People? Giants?" + +"No, indeed; neither great, strong animals, nor clever men, but +hundreds and hundreds and thousands of ants!" + +"Ants, cousin? What use would they be?" + +"You shall hear. Each ant carried one grain, or what seemed to be +one grain, of sand. On and on they came, and the ground was quite +black with their hosts. The people looked, and gradually their +murmurs grew to one great roar of discontent. But God's little +laborers paid no attention. They had their Master's will to do, and +so long as that was done they cared for neither the praise nor the +blame of His other creatures. So all day long they worked, each +little ant carrying his little load; and when the sun set there was a +great line of sandhills, so high that no waves could wash over them, +so thick that no storm could break them down, between the happy +villagers and the sea." + +"Then the people stopped grumbling, I suppose." + +"We will hope so. And perhaps they learned that God can use the +smallest things to do His work with. The little ants were as useful +in their way as the noble, unselfish Princess Isabel. Now, dear, I +am getting very tired; will you sit quietly and look at pictures, or +run away and see the grannies?" + +Bryda chose the pictures, and sat as still as a mouse in the window, +looking first at a picture, and then out of the window, and saying to +herself that she, too, would try to be of some use. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ANOTHER DREADFUL SCRAPE. + +The next morning Bryda was awakened from her pleasant morning sleep +by a strange sound. Her window was partly open, but something struck +against the upper sash; it was not a bird that had lost its way, nor +a wasp come to look for jam, for as Bryda raised her head something +that could only be a handful of light gravel or shot struck the +window again, and at the same time a clear, shrill whistle sounded +outside. + +Bryda hastily sprang up. One does not care much about dress at nine +years old, so in white nightdress and dark twisted hair she +fearlessly put her head out of the window, and saw, to her delight, +her cousin, Maurice Gray, a boy some two years younger than herself, +with his queer, ugly little Scotch terrier, Toby, standing on the +lawn. She need not be sad for want of a playmate to-day. + +[Illustration: Maurice Gray with his queer little Scotch terrier +Toby.] + +"Get up and dress!" cried Maurice. "Aren't you ashamed, my Lady +Lie-in-bed? Come out directly!" + +Bryda did not need a second invitation. A very short time indeed +passed before she was by Maurice's side. + +His father had brought him over, he said; his father wanted to see +grandfather about some business, so he had started off very early. +Maurice was dreadfully hungry, and, as the grannies never breakfasted +till ten, he and Bryda each got a thick slice of bread and jam from +the good-natured cook, and then went off to the garden, Bryda running +races with Toby, who mostly had the best of it. You see he had four +legs to Bryda's two. + +They went to the vinery, and acted a little play, which, however, +wanted a few more actors sadly. It was so puzzling for Bryda to be +both the imprisoned princess and the ogre at once; and when Maurice, +the valiant knight, slew Toby for a dragon, and stepped over his +corpse (or would have done, if Toby had been a little more dead, and +not run away every other minute), it got really puzzling, and it was +well that the breakfast-bell rang at that moment. + +Breakfast was rather a long, dull affair. Uncle James, Maurice's +father, explained to grandfather a great deal about a drainage +scheme; and grandmother, every five minutes, asked her maid Martha, +who stood behind her chair, to tell her what it was all about, which +Martha had to do in very loud whispers over and over again. + +Maurice and Bryda were very glad to run out again, with special +directions from grandmother to keep off wet grass, and not get into +mischief. This, they thought, could not possibly happen. This time +they rambled into the farmyard. Bryda would not look for more +kittens, but tried to make friends with some small balls of fluff, +which meant some day to be turkeys. At one corner of the yard was a +deep tank, or little pond, full of a dark brown, rather thick fluid, +which was used in the garden and fields, and had a great effect in +the way of making things grow. Bryda and her cousin stood looking at +it. + +"I declare," said Bryda, "it's like the Styx!" + +"I don't see any sticks," said ignorant Maurice, who had never +learned that the old heathens believed the souls of dead people went +in a ferryboat across a dark river called the Styx, and that the old +man who rowed the boat was called Charon. + +Bryda thought it would be capital fun to act this little scene. +Certainly the treacle-colored stuff in the pool looked nasty enough +to do very well for this dark river. + +As to Maurice, he was younger than his cousin, and when they were +together she always invented the games, although he had been to +school already, and thought girls generally were very little use. + +So when Bryda explained what she wanted to do, he only said that he +did not know how to act a story that he had never heard; to which +Bryda only answered quietly, and as if it were a fact no one could +think of doubting for a moment, "You don't know anything about +anything, Maurice. Sit down there--no! not on a cabbage, but on the +wheelbarrow--and I will tell you all about it." + +So she told him the story, in the middle of which the wheelbarrow +upset, because Maurice laughed. So he sat on a log of wood, and +Bryda picked up the wheelbarrow, got into it, and began in the words +of one of her lesson-books, with a little alteration to suit the +occasion. + +"Friend! Roman! Countryman! lend me your ears! I am Charon----" + +"What?" asked Maurice. + +"Don't spoil my speech! You may only say 'Hear, hear!' as they do in +Parliament." + +"But suppose I don't want to hear?" + +Bryda had no notion of what they would do under such unlikely +circumstances; so, after thinking a little, she merely said, "Don't +be silly, Maurice!" And that sort of answer puts an end to any +argument quite easily. + +"This is my dog Cerberus, with three heads," went on Bryda, pointing +to Toby. + +"My! what a lot of bones he would eat!" said his master. + +Bryda suddenly jumped down from her rather unsteady pulpit. + +"Oh, we _will_ have fun! Here, Maurice, put on my white pinafore. +You shall be a ghost, and I will get into the tub with my dog +Cerberus, and ferry you over the river," she said. + +"It won't hold two," said Maurice, looking rather doubtfully at the +rotten tub which Bryda pushed into the filthy waters, making a splash +and a most horrible smell as it went in. + +"Oh, ghosts don't want much room! Now, Cerberus, in you go!" and in +the poor dog went, hastily and ungracefully; being, in fact, thrown +in head foremost. + +After one howl he resigned himself, and lay down at the bottom of the +tub, into which unsteady boat Bryda, armed with her own small spade, +followed with Maurice's help. + +Having balanced herself by crouching down, so as to bring the center +of gravity to the right place, she proceeded to paddle, or, as she +called it, to row with the little wooden spade, splashing a good +deal, and, of course, making the tub turn round and round, and +wriggle very uncomfortably in the pool. + +[Illustration: (Bryda floating in the tub)] + +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Charon, giving up in despair, and +looking very red in the face. "We can pretend I crossed the Styx to +fetch you. Now I must speak to the soul in Latin, because, of +course, Charon and Cerberus talked Latin always." + +"I suppose Cerberus barked in Latin--all three mouths at once," said +Maurice; "what a horrid row it must have been!" + +"Now talk away," said Bryda. + +"But we don't know Latin; I've only just begun at _hic, hoec, hoc_." + +"That doesn't matter; we must make it up, of course. If we put 'us' +or 'o' at the end of every word it will sound exactly like the stuff +Cousin Ronald learns. Now: Poor-us soul-us, do-us you-us want-o to +cross over-o?" + +"Yes-o," replied Maurice promptly. + +"Then-us come-o--oh! oh!" screamed Bryda, making the last word very +long indeed; for she trod on the one tail of the dog Cerberus, +causing that remarkable animal to jump up howling. Charon's +ferryboat was not built to allow of athletic sports on board, so it +went over, and Bryda went in. + +Oh, dear! what word can describe the filthy mess into which Bryda was +plunged up to her waist! the smell of it, and the chill, horrible +feeling! Fortunately, she had just taken Maurice's hand, to help in +"the soul," who indeed felt very lucky to escape such a voyage! +Maurice was able to help her, but, soaked to the waist and ready to +cry, she scrambled up to dry land. + +By way of mending matters, the dog Cerberus, who may be supposed to +have become Toby again, had gone in altogether, and was rather +pleased with himself. So he came and had a good shake close to +Bryda, so as to splash all the rest of her small person, and then ran +round and round, expressing his delight by all sorts of queer noises. + +But, oh! here was a mess! And this after the trouble of yesterday, +and all Bryda's good resolutions! It was too dreadful, and tears +came fast to her eyes. + +But kind Maurice, instead of laughing, pitied her. "Don't cry," he +said; "can't you wash?" + +"I might _run_," said Bryda dolefully, remembering what dreadful +things happened to frocks that "ran." + +"That stuff might run off," said Maurice; "come on." + +And she followed meekly to the nearest greenhouse, where was a large +tub of fresh water, and beside it a big squirt or syringe used for +watering plants high up in the greenhouse. + +"Oh, Maurice dear, I never will call you stupid again!" cried Bryda, +delighted, as Maurice filled the syringe and set to work upon her. +What fun that was! It was almost worth the fright of that horrid +splash, and almost--not quite, perhaps--worth the disgrace Bryda +would certainly be in with nurse. Such peals of laughter followed +each shower that the quiet cows in the fields beyond lifted up their +great heavy heads, and stared with brown eyes of mild astonishment. + +[Illustration: Maurice filled the syringe and set to work.] + +Can you imagine the sort of figure Bryda was when grandmother came +out in her wheel-chair to take a turn in the sunshine? Soaked from +head to foot; streams of clean water, and others of the horribly +smelling stuff into which she had plunged, pouring off her in all +directions! She did indeed look a miserable little guilty thing, +hanging her head while grandmother looked at her through her gold +eyeglass, evidently so surprised and shocked that she could find no +words for a few minutes, and at last could only tell her she must +never! never! never! do such dreadful things again. If she did, the +consequences would be + +* * * * * * + +This row of stars must stand for those dreadful consequences, for +Bryda never heard them! Uncle James and grandfather had come up by +this time, and she fled, as fast as wet, clinging clothes would let +her, to the house. It was "out of the frying-pan into the fire," +though, for nurse's wrath was really something too dreadful; and the +way in which she ended, by saying that she supposed Miss Bryda would +like better to make mud pies in the streets than to play with other +Christians, hurt the child's feelings dreadfully. I am sorry to say +she walked out of the nursery with damp, smooth hair and a clean +frock, but with her head so very much in the air that her namesake, +Saint Bride, or Bridget, or Bryda, would have been quite shocked. + +"You see, Cousin Salome," she said afterward, "it was such a dose of +disgraces, and I meant to be so wise, and clever, and useful." + +"Did you _ask_ to be made wise, and clever, and useful?" asked Salome +gently. + +Bryda hung her head. She had forgotten that. I am afraid she +dressed so quickly in the morning to join Maurice that she never +remembered to ask the Helper of the helpless to make her what she +would like to be. + +"I have been so miserable, Cousin Salome," she added; "I don't +believe Mary, Queen of Scots, could have been more wretched if she +had had her head cut off three times running." + +How this was to be managed did not seem to strike Bryda as puzzling. +She and Maurice had so often acted the execution of Mary of Scotland, +with an armchair for the block, and an umbrella for an ax, that they +were quite used to the queen having her head cut off very often +without minding it in the least, or being any the worse for it +afterward. + +But, certainly, it is very tiresome when our most amusing games end +in some mischief that we never dreamed of doing! It was not so very +long before this dreadful accident in the tub that Bryda, who had +been reading English history, told Maurice they would act King Canute +and his courtiers on the seashore. + +So she put two chairs, and collected all the water she could from +every jug and water-bottle she could find, so as nearly to fill a +bath placed in front of the two chairs on which she and Maurice sat. + +"So they put chairs close by the seashore as the tide came in," +related Bryda, "and the little waves came nearer and nearer. And the +courtiers said, 'O king, let us move a little higher up.' But Canute +said, 'Why should we? Did you not say I was such a great king that +no doubt even the sea would obey me?' And the courtiers held their +stupid tongues, for they knew very well that they had said so. But +the tide kept on coming, and presently the courtiers got up and ran +away, for the water was halfway up the legs of their chairs, and they +had already been sitting with their knees up to their noses." + +But here Bryda, trying to get herself into this graceful position, +lost her balance, and rolled off her chair, falling on the edge of +the bath; which, of course, upset, and made a higher tide in the +nursery than had ever been seen there before, for the water flowed in +every direction, and the children, ashamed and frightened though they +were, could not help laughing at the way in which a pair of Bryda's +shoes floated about like little canoes, till one that had a hole at +the side turned over and went down. + +This happened at Bryda's own home, before her father and mother went +away. Mother was not pleased, of course; but still she was not quite +so dreadfully shocked as the grannies were at the adventure in the +old tub. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +WHAT CAN I DO? + +It was in a penitent frame of mind that Bryda awoke on Sunday +morning. She would be really good and keep out of mischief all day +long. + +Cousin Salome was better this morning, and Bryda went in to see her +after breakfast. + +"No, dear, I cannot go to church," she said, when Bryda asked if she +would go that morning; "but I dare say church will come to me. I +shall read to myself, and think of all the people all over the world +who are saying the same words of prayer, till my little room seems to +grow into a piece of a great church." And Salome's white, thin face +grew so bright and sweet that Bryda thought it looked like an angel's +face in a picture she had seen. + +The idea helped her to sit much more still than usual in the old +family coach, opposite the two dear old grannies. + +Grandfather was a very polite old gentleman, and thought people +nowadays too free and easy. Especially he held that no gentleman +ever ought to drive with ladies with his hat on; so, as soon as he +got into the carriage, he always took off his very well brushed tall +hat, and fixed it by the brim in two ribbons fastened for the purpose +along the carriage ceiling. + +Grandmother always wore a bonnet of the shape that was in fashion +when she was young, a curious coal-scuttle affair, which generally +set Bryda wondering how the wrinkled old face looked when its pink +cheeks were round, and whether, if she were to go to work with a +piece of india-rubber, she could rub out the deep lines and get the +young look back again. + +Grandmother's eyes were dim, and she liked to have the lessons and +the hymns found for her. Bryda sometimes did not care to do this; +because, if the hymn were a short one, it was sometimes half over +before she had found her own place, and was able to join, as she +dearly liked to do, in the singing. + +But to-day she really did want to be of use, so she did this small +duty cheerfully, and was rewarded by the happy way in which the old +lady smiled and nodded over the big printed book. + +The sermon seemed to have to do, in a most curious way, with the very +things of which Bryda had been thinking, and she quite started when +the rector's voice said suddenly, "Nothing to do!" and there stopped. +"Nothing to do," he said, "when the whole world is full of things +that want doing! The harvest ripe, but the laborers idle! The +people hungry, and those who have the loaves and fishes keeping +them--wasted, unused!" + +The clergyman went on to speak of works that men and women might do, +and Bryda nestled close against grandfather's shoulder and thought +sadly, "When I am grown up I may be of some use, but what a long time +off that is!" But presently she looked up again very brightly as the +kind old rector went on: + +"And now, what shall I say to the little ones? Just this, that the +Father needs them quite as much as their elders. They may not be +able to do great works, to reap the harvest field, but they may help +with cords of love to bind the sheaves; they may glean the scattered +ears, and make a little sheaf of good corn. The Lord took a "few +small fishes" to serve His great purpose; He will take little hands +and feet and hearts, and make them do His will. Only the little ones +must be _willing_." + +Yes! But he had not told Bryda what she might do, and how to set +about doing the Lord's will seemed to her very puzzling. + +She wondered about it the whole way home, and made a little plan, +which she determined to carry out at once after luncheon. When +grown-up people were very good, Bryda knew that they were fond of +caring for the poor, and that then they generally carried soup to +those who were sick, and read the Bible aloud in cottages. In her +own town home she had never been into the houses of the poor at all; +indeed, these houses were so hidden away behind the handsome streets +in which the rich lived, that she hardly knew there were such places. +But here, in the little village outside grandfather's lodge gates, +she knew poor people lived, mostly in neat cottages with honeysuckle +climbing over their trellised porches. There were most likely nice +old women there, who sat knitting in their tidy room, with spectacled +eyes, and caps as white as snow. It would be nice to go there, and +surely to visit them would be useful, and would please Him who made +use of a "few small fishes" to do His work when He was on earth. + +Full of this happy thought, Bryda descended to the kitchen. The +servants'-hall dinner was just over, the kitchen-maid was washing +plates in the scullery, and cook was sitting by the kitchen window +with a very clean apron and very smart cap; while by her stood a tall +young shepherd, in his Sunday best, and a flower in his coat. + +Bryda made her request to cook, namely, that she might have a little +soup in a jug. + +"Whatever do you want it for, miss?" asked the cook, evidently +ill-pleased by the interruption. + +"I want to do good to the poor," answered she, looking up seriously +at the cross face. + +"Dear! miss: what an old-fashioned child you are!" cried cook. But +she fetched the soup, and Bryda was much surprised to see that it was +a cold bright jelly, very nice to carry, as there could be no fear of +spilling it on her fresh Sunday frock. So off she started, and +walked quickly down the avenue and out into the pretty village, with +her soup and her testament. But now came a new puzzle--Bryda knew +none of the people in the village. To which house should she go? + +Looking round, she saw that one of the houses looked much poorer than +the others. The little garden was full of weeds, the porch shabby +and broken, with creepers that sadly wanted nailing, hanging loosely +from the wall, one poor rose quite bent to the earth with heavy +blossoms. Everything looked neglected, and Bryda thought the people +must be very poor indeed, since their home looked so wretched. +Timidly walking up to the door, for her courage began to fail her a +little, she tapped gently. + +"Open the door, Betsy," said a gruff voice inside; to which another +voice answered, grumbling: + +"Can't you do it yourself, you stupid old woman?" + +Then the door opened suddenly, and Bryda saw a rough-looking girl of +about fifteen, with a very dirty face, shock head, and untidy, torn +dress, whose voice was as rough as her look, holding the door. + +"Now, then, what do you want?" she said, frowning fiercely at her +trembling visitor. "D'yer want to know the way, or to ax a glass of +water? That's all folks like you ever troubles folks like us for, +'cept when we're ill, and then yer brings us tracks:" by which she +probably meant tracts. + +"If you please," said poor Bryda, "I thought some one might be ill +here, and so I brought some soup." + +"Come in, my dear, come in," said the old woman from her corner, and +began coughing and wheezing very loudly, groaning so dreadfully +between her attacks that Bryda was more frightened than ever, and +thought she was going to die. Perhaps some soup would do her good; +so she timidly entered the cottage, the girl immediately shutting the +door behind her, set down her little basket, and began to open it. + +"That's a nice bit o' chain round yer neck," said the rude girl, +coming behind her. "I wonder if it wouldn't look better on me." So +saying, she quickly unclasped the pretty silver chain that hung round +her visitor's neck, and put it on her own, before Bryda had time to +object. + +The old woman had, meantime, stopped coughing; she got up quickly and +seized the jug of clear soup-jelly, and began poking her shriveled +old fingers in, and so eating it. But the girl, seeing this, caught +the hand that held the jug, while the old woman was eating and +muttering all the time. + +"Soup for the sick! Oh, yes, I am very ill! Bring me some soup, my +dear; bring me plenty of soup." The rough girl caught the jug and +tried to put her own fingers in, on which a struggle followed; the +pitcher fell to the floor and broke, while the jelly was scattered +everywhere; and poor Bryda, frightened almost out of her wits, left +the two dreadful women to fight, opened the door, and ran as if they +were after her, leaving locket and chain, and her basket, and feeling +as if she were fortunate in escaping at all. + +Rushing blindly on, she hardly knew where, only feeling that she must +run, her foot caught in the root of a tree, and she fell violently to +the ground, striking her head against the trunk. Stupid as she felt, +in a moment she was trying to struggle up, when a hand was laid on +her shoulder; and, thinking it must be the dreadful girl who had so +frightened her, the poor girl screamed aloud. + +"Hush, hush! don't scream that way!" said a kind, soothing voice; an +arm gently raised her, and Bryda, looking up, saw an old man, with +cheeks like a winter-apple, white hair, and a pair of the kindest, +friendliest old eyes that ever looked through spectacles, standing +beside her. + +"Come into my cottage here, and rest a little." + +Bryda looked round her, feeling that for this time she had had enough +of the inside of cottages. + +"Do now," went on the old man. "Don't be afeard, missy! Thy +grandfather and old Roger were young together; ah! and good friends +they were, too, for all I could beat him at wrestling; he never took +it amiss, did Master George--that's your grandad, little missy. Come +in now, and welcome." Bryda gained a little courage at this speech, +and followed the old man into his cottage, close to which she had +fallen. + +As she went she could see the rude girl looking out of her house and +making ugly faces. + +"Which she need not have done," said Bryda afterward; "she was +_hideous_ already!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +OLD ROGER. + +Directly Bryda was inside the old man's cottage she was able to +collect her scattered wits, and look round at her kind friend and at +his dwelling. + +The little room into which she had come served as the old man's +sitting-room and kitchen both; the door into what would naturally +have been his little parlor was open, and she could see tools hanging +up on neat wooden racks, half-finished chairs and boxes lying about, +and in the center of the room a carpenter's bench and turning-lathe. +The carpenter himself wore a very old-fashioned dress, long blue +knitted stockings, strong low shoes with buckles, a scarf wound round +and round his throat, so that two little points of very white collar +came just under his chin, and a funny old brown coat with +peculiar-looking buttons. + +He drew a chair for Bryda near the hearth on which burned a small +wood fire, and above which were a great many memorial cards in +frames--wonderful works of art, with very black backgrounds and very +white tombs, over which leaned in exhausted attitudes drooping female +figures, supposed to be lamenting the departed in the tombs, while +usually a large weeping willow languished in one corner of the +picture. + +The carpenter himself sat down, where he had evidently been sitting +before, at a small table, on which was a very large Bible with +pictures in it. + +As he did so his eyes rested on the opposite wall, on which was a +quaint old woodcut, representing the Christ in Joseph's workshop at +Nazareth, with a glory round His heady busily making a table. Bryda +saw, it too, and could not help noticing the look of pleasure that +came into the old man's face, as if he had suddenly seen a very dear +friend. + +"You're a carpenter, Mr. Roger?" said Bryda, trying not to feel shy. + +"Ay, ay," answered the old man, turning his spectacled eyes slowly +from the picture to her face. "I make chairs and tables, and all +else that I've strength for, just as He did," pointing to the +picture. "He made them for over twenty years, but I've made them now +for twice that, and more. Nigh on to seventy years I've done the +same work as He did; and whenever I do a real neat job, missy, I say +to myself, "That's right, Roger; do 'em better and better still, and +some day you'll do one that He needn't a-been ashamed of." + +"Do you think the Lord made the best chairs and tables?" asked Bryda, +wondering. She had been so much more used to think of our Redeemer +as He taught, and worked miracles, and went about doing good, than as +the carpenter who worked quietly in a little out-of-the-way village. + +"I dunno about the best, missy; maybe He never had the best teaching +leastways, not to make grand folks' furniture. But I know every nail +He drove was put in true and straight, and never a bit of bad wood +used, or a place people wouldn't see left unfinished. All the work +He did was the best He knew to do--that I know right well, missy." + +Bryda sighed. She had come out to try and do some of the Lord's own +work--to help the poor. And she had failed so horribly, with the +best intentions! The old carpenter heard her sigh. + +"Tell old Roger how you got into trouble, missy," he said; "and maybe +a cup of tea would freshen you after all's done." + +It was only half-past three, but the old man got up and bustled +about, laying tea on the clean deal table, with a cloth still +cleaner, for Bryda and himself, a big loaf, and a little bit of +country butter. Then he put the kettle on to boil, and sat down +opposite Bryda to watch it, while she told all the story of her +adventure to her new friend, beginning with the scrape of yesterday, +and Cousin Salome's story, and ending by saying sadly that it seemed +as if there was no use for her in the world. + +"Don't fret, my dear; don't fret," said the kind old man; "the Lord +has a use for everything and everybody, if they'll ask Him to show +the way. Why, the dear Lord had need of a donkey once, and He sent +to ask for it. Didst ask Him what to do, little miss, before thou +went?" + +Bryda hung her head. That she had not done. + +"That's where the fault was," said Roger thoughtfully. "What dost +think 'ud happen if I tried to do squire's work, or parson's? They +wouldn't thrive with me, for sure." + +At this moment the cottage door opened, and the object of Bryda's +terror, the shock-headed girl, entered. In one hand she held Bryda's +locket and chain, in the other her basket, both of which she thumped +down upon the table, so that all the tea-things rattled, merely +saying, "There, take yer things, and don't come near us no more!" +She bounced out again, and banged the door behind her. + +"So it was Moll Dawson as freckened ye!" said Roger, when she was +gone; "she's a real bad 'un, that girl. I'm thinking she's one of +those lambs that run further off because they hear the Shepherd +calling." + +"I shall never dare to go near her house again," said Bryda; "but I +am glad she did not steal my locket and chain. And I wish I could +help somebody who is sick or very poor," she added, returning to her +first idea. + +The old carpenter leaned his elbows on his knees, and looked at Bryda +very earnestly. + +"When I were a young 'un," he said, "and lived in a part of the +country far away from here, there was a cold, clear spring as bubbled +up by the roadside, with the best water in all the country round, +that never dried up. And they called it 'The Child's Well,' and told +a pretty story about it." + +"Oh, do tell me!" said Bryda eagerly, roused at once by the idea of a +story, like a dog at the scent of game. + +[Illustration: (Bryda and the old Roger)] + +"Well," continued the old man, "they say that once, long years ago, +there was a little lassie troubled in mind like you, missy, and +wanting to do a bit o' work for the dear Lord. So every day, when +she left her little white bed, she knelt down and prayed summat like +this: 'Dear Lord,' says she, 'give me a little bit of Thy great work +to do.' And all day long she was kind and gentle, and always doin' a +hand's turn for some one, if it was only mindin' a babby while the +mother went out. + +"But she didn't understand, ye see, missy, that such bits o' things +could belong to the Lord's work. Till one day, as the story goes, +when it was a holiday, all the chicks went out, and were going some +way off to play. Just as they got a little way out of the village, +on the dusty, hot road, they met an old man, very foot-sore, and old +and tired-lookin'. So he says, 'For dear pity's sake, little 'uns, +give me a little water.' But the well was some way back, and the +childer in a hurry to go and play, so they one and all told him to go +on furder, and he'd find what he wanted. All but this little maid: +she stayed looking wistfully at the old man, though the others called +to her to come on. 'Sit down,' she says, 'till I fetch you some +water,' and off she runs back to the village, fills a cup, and brings +it back steady, not spillin' a drop. But when she came where she +left the old man sitting, there was a beautiful figure, all in a +white dress with, gold about it, and such a face as she had never +seen before. And He took the cup and put it to His lips, and then +with a voice like the sound of many waters--so she told the people +after--He told her, 'Even a cup of cold water, given to the very +least, shall have its reward.' And He poured out the rest of the +water, and where it fell this spring rose up. And while the little +maid looked at it, all on a sudden He was gone." + +[Illustration: And where the water fell this spring rose up.] + +"Was it an angel that she saw?" asked Bryda, in an awe-struck tone. + +"Some say it was an angel, some say it was the dear Lord Himself," +said the old carpenter, bowing his head reverently. "But I don't +rightly know, missy; I don't rightly know." + +Here the kettle made a distraction by boiling over, and old Roger +took it off and made tea. + +Then his little visitor, who had now quite recovered her spirits, +suggested that it would be "awfully nice" if they had some buttered +toast, and in two minutes he and Bryda were on two stools by the +fire, each with slice of bread at the end of a fork, the old man and +little girl as happy as it was possible to be. + +They were just going to turn their pieces and toast the other sides, +when suddenly the door opened, and Bryda's nurse entered like a whirl +wind, and stood horror-struck on the threshold. + +"Oh, Miss Bryda, you naughty, naughty girl! Whatever do you think +your poor dear mother would say, seeing you sitting there, for all +the world like a vulgar child, and every one up at the house running +about distracted, because you're lost? Come away this minute!" + +[Illustration: (Girl sitting on the grass)] + +Bryda had nothing to say for herself. She meant to do good; but it +was very naughty to slip away "unbeknown," as nurse would say, and +frighten every one. + +The old carpenter had tea alone after all, and Bryda went sorrowfully +home with her scolding nurse. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +UNCLE JACK'S STORY. + +Uncle Jack came home next day, and Bryda's spirit rose from freezing +to a very high point indeed when she saw him come into the garden, +where she was sitting rather sadly, with knitted brows, very busily +thinking, and staring hard at nothing. She was trying to think how +it was that she could not manage to be of more use; and that is a +very deep subject to think about when you are only nine years old. + +"Though, after all," said Bryda to herself, "lessons may do me some +good. When things are disagreeable, like doses and lessons, people +say they are for your good; but I don't see how they can do any one +else good." + +Just as she was thinking this, a merry whistled tune came through the +trees. Nobody could whistle like Uncle Jack. + +"What's the matter, maiden all forlorn?" asked his cheery voice. +"Here comes the man all tattered and torn to rouse you up!" + +"Oh, Uncle Jack!" said Bryda sorrowfully, "I am of no use." + +"No use! who cares about that? Perhaps you were made for ornament, +like the roses, and butterflies, and nice little singing-birds." + +"Ornament's no use," went on Bryda, sadly still. + +"Isn't it? If the world had no birds, and no flowers, and no +butterflies, and no children, only hard-working men and women and +cart-horses, what sort of place would it be?" + +"Very dull," said Bryda quickly. + +"So I should think. And supposing the birds were all harnessed to +carts, and the flowers mown down for hay, and the children set to +work in offices all day long, would that be nice?" + +Bryda laughed. "No, indeed, Uncle Jack." + +"Well, then, Bryda's work is to look merry, and good-tempered, and +happy, as if she was a tame sunbeam that the grannies kept to amuse +them." Bryda laughed still more. + +"Uncle Jack do you know you are horribly nice?" she said, dragging +him down to a seat. + +"Horribly nice? What sort of niceness is that? Like raspberry jam, +or pet kittens, or troublesome children?" All these are nice, and +horrible too. Jam is horrible when it makes you ill, kittens when +they scratch, children when they behave badly." + +"I wish I could grow up all at once," said Bryda, with a sigh; "and +then I should never get into scrapes again, and have grandmother +calling me Bridget." + +This was Bryda's idea of the worst thing that could be said to her; +when she was naughty her own mother, and the grannies too, called her +Bridget, instead of using her pet name. + +"Would you like all other children to grow up too, and have only men +and women in the world? Oh, poor Bryda! how dull you would be! +Supposing I were to tell you a story about a country where something +of the sort happened?" + +"Please, please do!" cried Bryda; "only please, Uncle Jack, don't let +it have a moral. Miss Quillnib used to tell me stories when it was +too wet to go out after lessons, and there was always a +moral--something about me, you know. And that spoiled the story, +just the way powders spoil raspberry jam." + +Uncle Jack laughed at his little niece's fancies, then settled +himself comfortably on the garden seat, lit his pipe, and went on +talking between the puffs, telling his promised story. + + +UNCLE JACK'S STORY. + +"Once upon a time," began Uncle Jack, "since we know no fairy stories +are worth hearing unless they begin with 'once upon a time.' + +"Once upon a time there was a country ruled over by a king and queen +who had no children. Having no children of their own, these +sovereigns thought other people's children a nuisance. I am afraid +they were like the fox, who said the grapes were sour because he +could not reach them, for it was well known that they wanted some of +these 'torments' very badly themselves." + +"Don't call us torments, Uncle Jack," interrupted his little niece. + +"Well, you see, madam, historians must be truthful. I am bound to +say that the king and queen passed a law in which the children were +described as 'pickles, torments, plagues, bothers, nuisances, +worries,' and by twenty-four other titles of respect which I have +forgotten. This law enacted: + +"First--That the children were to be seen and not heard. Wherefore +all children under the age of sixteen were to speak in a whisper and +laugh in a whisper." + +"They couldn't, Uncle Jack," broke in Bryda, "they could only smile!" + +"Or grin," said Uncle Jack. "So you think that a cruel law, Bryda? + +"Secondly--As the sight of a child set the royal teeth on edge, no +child was to be allowed to set foot out of doors, unless between the +hours of twelve and one on any night when there was neither moon nor +stars." + +"At that rate they would never go out," said Bryda. + +"Well, you see this was a law for the abolition of children; so they +were to be suppressed as much as possible, of course. + +"Then, thirdly, the law declared--That, as little pitchers have long +ears, no child should ever hear the conversation of grown-up people. +Therefore children were never to be admitted into any sitting-room +used by the elders of the family, nor into any kitchen or room +occupied by servants." + +"O-o-oh!" said Bryda; "did they keep them in the coal-cellar?" + +"In some houses, perhaps." + +"Fourthly--Forasmuch as play was not a profitable occupation, and led +to noise and laughter, all play-time and holidays should at once be +abolished." + +"That was a very bad law," said Bryda warmly. + +"Well, the law was passed, and was soon carried out; and any one +coming to the city would have thought there were no children, so +carefully were they kept out of sight. All the toy shops were +closed, and confectioners were ordered, under pain of death, neither +to make nor sell goodies. But one thing the king had forgotten, and +that was that, after all, there were more children than grown people +in the country. One family had nine children, another six, and so +on; so that, counting the boarding-schools, there were just three +times as many children as grown people in the capital. Well, after +about a week of this treatment (for the parents were compelled under +threat of instant execution to carry it out), it happened that there +came a night when at twelve o'clock, though it was not raining, there +was neither moon nor star to be seen. So all the children in the +city rushed forth into the park with Chinese lanterns in their hands, +making quite a fairy gathering under the trees. Oh, how delicious it +was! They ran and shouted, and played games and laughed, till +suddenly one o'clock struck; and all the king's horses, and all the +king's men, came to drive them to their homes again. But there were +hundreds and hundreds of children, and only a few soldiers with +wooden swords; for this was a very peaceable nation, and armed even +its police with only birch rods. So one of the biggest boys blew a +tin trumpet, and called all the children to him. + +"'I vote we rebel,' he said. 'We will not stand this any more; let +us drive away all the grown-ups, and have the town altogether to +ourselves.' + +"Now it so happened that a fairy had been watching all that went on +in the town, and was not at all pleased. So when she heard this bold +boy speak she thought it would be a good thing to let this rebellion +be carried out. 'Serve 'em right,' she said; 'young and old shall +all learn a lesson.' + +"So she collected a few thousand fairies, and they flew to all the +king's men, and whispered in their left ears dreadful things, which +frightened them terribly and made them believe an immense army, +instead of the troops of children, was coming to crush them all. +Then the fairies whispered in their right ears that it would be wise +to fly to a neighboring mountain where there was a large old fort, +and there take refuge. So they galloped off as fast as the king's +horses would carry them. Then the fairies flew all over the town and +whispered the same things to all the grown-up people--fathers and +mothers, old maids and old bachelors--till they, too, tumbled out of +bed, dressed in a terrible hurry, and fled to the mountain. Even the +king jumped out of bed, tied up his crown in his pocket-handkerchief, +and ran for his life in his dressing-gown, while two lords in +waiting, or gentlemen of the bedchamber, rushed after him with the +royal mantle of ermine, and the scepter and golden ball. The lord +chancellor filled his pockets with new sovereigns from the mint (for +he slept there to look after the money) and then he too ran, but +rather slowly, for he had the woolsack on his back, and it was pretty +heavy. When they asked him why he took the trouble he answered that +he thought the ground might be damp, and he already had a cold in his +head. + +"Well, all the elders being gone, the children were left in +possession of the city, at which you may well suppose they were +greatly astonished. They went on with their games for awhile; but +then the lanterns began to go out, and one after another they grew +very sleepy. So the boy with the tin trumpet blew it again, and +commanded that every one should now go to bed, and that a meeting +should be held at twelve o'clock next day in the park, at which every +child should appear. + +"Appear they did, in their Sunday clothes, those of them at least who +cared for finery; there were no mothers or nurses to object. All +were in great delight at having no one to rule them. + +"'I shall never go to bed at eight!' said one. + +"'I shall never eat rice pudding--horrid stuff!' + +"'I shall never take any more doses!' + +"'I shall never do any more lessons!' + +"'Nor I! nor I! nor I!' shouted one after another; 'we shall all do +only what we like! How happy we shall be!' + +"Only one little maid whispered, with a tear trembling on the long +lashes of her blue eyes, 'Dottie wants mother!' But Dottie was soon +comforted, and ran about as merrily as ever. + +"Meantime the elder boys and girls held a very noisy Parliament, in +which there were never less than five speaking at once. After a +great deal of chatter they determined to set up a queen; and a very +pretty little girl called May was chosen, and crowned with a crown of +flowers. + +[Illustration: (Dancing children)] + +"Next, Queen May and her council of six, three boys and three girls, +ordered that a big bonfire should be made of all lesson-books and +pinafores, for they thought pinafores were signs of an inferior +state, of being under command, as servants sometimes think their caps +are. + +"The next law was that all the raspberry jam in the city should be +set aside for the use of the queen and her court, and for those who +were invited to the royal tea parties. There was a little grumbling +about this, but finally the grumblers gave in. All this time troops +of children came pouring in from the neighboring villages with +pinafores on the end of broom sticks as flags of rebellion. Being +pretty hungry, they dispersed for dinner, which in most of the houses +was a very curious meal, as, of course, no one could cook, so they +had to forage in the kitchens and storerooms, while bands of hungry +young folks stormed the confectioners' shops, and dined off ices and +wedding-cake. + +"Then they opened the toy-shops and put them in charge of parties of +children and gradually the other shops were treated in the same way, +for buying and selling is always a game children like, and it was +such a treat to have real things to sell. Only money was such a +trouble: they were always forgetting to bring any, and the young +shopkeepers never were sure if a shilling or a sovereign was the +right price for a thing. Therefore they concluded to do without it; +and costly things were bought for kisses, while cheap ones were to be +had for saying, 'If you please,' or, if they were very small, as a +penny bun, for instance, then 'please' was enough." + +"How nice!" said Bryda. + +"Well, for a whole week there never was such happiness as the +children enjoyed. Games from morning to night, bread and jam three +times a day, no lessons, no forbidden things, and a queen of their +own age in place of the tyrant king. + +[Illustration: For a whole week there were games.] + +"But when a week was over some little murmurs began to arise. Every +morning, I ought to say, the queen sat on her throne in the royal +palace, to receive any of her subjects who liked playing at being +courtiers, and she and her council then settled any difficulty that +arose about rules of games, about the way to make the best toffee and +any other important question. + +"On this particular morning, then, rather more than a week after the +establishment of the Children's Kingdom, a very large throng entered +the queen's presence. Foremost came a troop of boys and girls, who +led in a pale, serious-looking boy as a prisoner, and brought him to +Queen May's feet. + +"'What is the charge against this prisoner?' asked the queen, with +dignity. 'Don't all speak at once,' she added, so hastily that +several courtiers giggled. + +"'Please your majesty,' said a boy, stepping forward, 'we caught him +in the act--the very act--of learning lessons!' + +"'Lessons!' cried the whole court, in every tone of disgust, anger, +grief and dismay. + +"'Lessons!' screamed the queen, and at once fainted away." + +"She didn't!" said Bryda indignantly. + +"Don't you think the shock was great enough?" asked Uncle Jack. +"Besides, she felt it part of her royal duty, perhaps. + +"Anyhow, they tickled her with feathers, and put burned cork to her +nose till she had a black mustache; and one boy brought a red-hot +poker, which he said he had heard was a good thing, though he did not +quite know how it was applied. + +"It was the best remedy, certainly, for on its appearance the queen +jumped up shrieking, and declared she was perfectly well. + +"Then the queen proceeded to try the prisoner, and requested the +whole court to act as jury. It was a very sad case of youthful +depravity--the criminal had carefully kept this one book, 'Somebody's +Arithmetic,' or 'Hangnail's Questions,' to gloat over in secret; and +even now was not at all penitent, but declared, when asked what he +had to say for himself, that it was 'stupid, and a bore,' to play +games all day long, and he was sick of them. + +"The jury could not agree as to what was to be done with such an +offender, and so he was allowed to go, and bidden 'not to do it +again,' and the queen went on to the next difficulty. Here the +throne-room became quite full of children, all in great perplexity; +for the matter was this, that the food supply was running short. The +confectioners' shops were nearly empty; there was plenty of jam, but +very little bread; and one or two boys, who had breakfasted on jam +out of a pot, eaten with a spoon, said, 'They didn't know how it +could be, but somehow they thought it did not quite agree with them.' + +"This was really very serious. Could no one cook? + +"Well, several had tried to make puddings; but somehow, though they +ought to have been quite right, _something_ was wrong, and no one +would eat them. One girl had bravely made some apple-dumplings, and +baked them quite brown; but then she could not find out how to get +the apple in, so they were no more than hard balls, and not real +apple-dumplings at all. + +"'What are we going to do?' said Queen May sorrowfully. + +"A dead silence reigned. + +"'I know!' said a boy called Eric, starting forward suddenly, and all +eyes turned to this owner of a bright idea. 'I know!' he said, +brandishing a many-bladed knife; 'I'll kill a pig!' + +"A murmur of horror arose from the girls. + +"'Oh, no!' said Queen May politely; 'my faithful subject, we will not +let you make yourself so miserable." + +"Oh, _I_ don't mind!' cried Eric; 'really, you know, I should _like_ +it!' + +"'I'll hold him for you!' cried several boys at once. + +"'Quite as if they liked it,' whispered the girls. + +"But Queen May interposed, and said the court should break up and go +to blind-man's-buff. At the same hour next day any one who had a +bright idea should come and tell it. For the rest of the day she, at +least, did not mean to bother her head. If a pig were killed, it +would have to be cooked. And shaking her curls, which were like a +crown of gold, Queen May jumped off her throne and ran out into the +park. + +"Presently the Fairy Set-'em-right came flying over the town, and saw +all the children running about and shrieking with laughter. + +[Illustration: The fairy came flying over the town.] + +"'Bless my broomstick!' she said, for she had borrowed one from a +witch to fly upon, saying she had rheumatism in her left wing. +'Bless my broomstick! this won't do at all!' + +"She did not notice that a great many children were standing about in +groups, whispering--what they dared not say aloud--that they were +getting tired of games all day, and of nothing to eat but sweet cakes +and jam at meals. + +"'I should really, really and truly, like some boiled mutton,' said +Master Archie, who was known to have had a special dislike to that +dish. + +"'I know what I shall do,' said the fairy; 'I shall make these +children feel like grownups, and then I shall fly off to the +mountain, and make the grown-ups feel like children: and if _that_ +doesn't bring them to their senses, I am sure I don't know what +will.'" + +At this exciting point a servant came to tell Uncle Jack that +grandfather wanted him, and he went off whistling, promising Bryda +the rest of the story "next time." + +But as she did not know when "next time" would be, it was rather +provoking. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +BEPPO. + +Bryda sat still where Uncle Jack had left her, thinking over his +story. + +"You see, my dear," she said to herself (Bryda had a funny way of +calling herself "my dear" when she talked to herself, and told +herself stories, or read herself little moral lectures as Miss +Quillnib her governess used to do); "You see, my dear, the thing is +this: when any one tells a story they can make things happen so that +there shall always be a good moral. Now, I am sure that town in the +story would be a very nice place, but Uncle Jack is sure to make +everything go wrong!" + +Here nurse came and carried Miss Bryda off for a walk. They went +through the village, and old Roger was at his work. The house-door +was open, and he nodded a pleasant "Good-day." + +Bryda lingered a moment. + +"Isn't this a nice day, Roger?" she said. + +"Ay, ay, little miss," answered the carpenter, "it's one of the +Lord's own days. He doesn't give us too many of them, for fear we'd +get too fond o' this place, and not be in a hurry to go to our +Father's house." + +Nurse had stopped to talk to the blacksmith. It was funny, but she +always had something special to tell the blacksmith; and he would +keep a horse waiting ever so long to be shod while they talked, +though really they never seemed to say anything very interesting. + +However, Bryda knew she would have some time to herself, so she +walked into old Roger's cottage, and sat down on a bench among the +sawdust and shavings. + +"I suppose you are very poor, aren't you, Roger?" she asked, after +watching him silently for some time. + +"Poor, missy? Well, maybe some folks 'ud think so, but there's no +man in the village richer, for all that!" + +"Then why don't you have a grander house?" + +"I'll go to my grand house by and by, missy," he answered, driving a +screw carefully. "Ah! a grand house that is indeed! It's making +ready for me all this time; but when once I go, I'll not come back +here again!" + +"I should think not!" answered Bryda, looking round the poor cottage. +"Is it a palace, Roger?" Bryda's idea of a palace was something very +splendid--golden tables, and silver chairs, and all the rest of the +furniture to match. + +"Ay, you may well call it a palace! There's no house hereabouts +would match that one," answered Roger, in his cheery voice. + +"Does any one else live there?" + +"Oh, yes! All my brothers and sisters--the children of the King." + +"Miss Bryda! Miss Bryda! You troublesome child!" called the nurse's +voice. "Come along, this minute! wherever have you got to--poking in +them low places?" + +"Nurse did not think the forge a low place," thought Bryda, but she +was obliged to go. + +"Nurse," she said, when that worthy person had done scolding, "do you +know, I am sure I may go and see that old carpenter, for he is not a +common man at all, but a prince in disguise Only fancy! Just like a +fairy tale!" + +"Fairy grandmother!" said nurse, who was not in the best of tempers; +and they went on for some way in silence through the village. + +A little outside the village stood a neat white house, in which the +doctor lived, and in front of this a woman in an Italian dress was +turning the handle of a barrel-organ, while a handsome boy of five or +six, or perhaps older--for though small, he had an old look in his +face--stood holding a little tin mug to collect pennies. There were +no pennies in it; the woman looked dreadfully pale and ill, and +coughed without stopping, and the child's big, black eyes looked very +sorrowful. + +The doctor's servant came out of the white house, and roughly ordered +them away, with abuse which shocked Bryda to hear. + +Evidently the kind doctor was not at home, for he would have been +sorry for the poor sick woman, who was trying to earn a few pence +when any one who was better off would have been in bed, carefully +nursed. + +Bryda had a penny; she meant to buy sugar-candy, but she dropped it +into the little tin, and was rewarded by a bright smile on the little +face, and "Tank you, signorina;" by which the little boy meant, +"Thank you, miss." That was nicer than sugar-candy. + +"I can't abide furriners," said nurse. "Aren't there any little +white children for you to give your money to, Miss Bryda, without +encouraging those outlandish folks to beg?" + +Bryda did not answer; she was wondering if the Lord would think her +penny of any use for His poor. It was a very little coin, but it was +all she had then. It would buy a bit of bread; and, perhaps, one of +the "few small fishes" was not worth much more. + +As they came home again Bryda saw the same woman and child toiling +along the road in front of them, entering the village again. + +The woman staggered under the weight of her barrel-organ; she seemed +very faint and weak; either she must be very ill, or she had had no +proper food. Perhaps both misfortunes were hers. + +A baker's man went riding by with some loaves in a basket. As he +passed the Italian woman the horse seemed frightened, either at her +white sleeves or at the instrument she carried, and Bryda saw him +sway violent and throw one of the loaves out upon the road. The +baker did not miss it, and rode on faster, beating his horse. + +But the little Italian boy sprang at it; and Bryda felt sure he was +cruelly hungry from the way in which he seized the bread and put it +to his mouth. He did not bite it though, but changing his mind, ran +to his mother, and held it out. + +"_Madre mia, pane!_" he cried. "My mother, bread!" he meant. + +The lad's mother looked at the loaf of bread for a moment--only a +moment; then she shook her head, and spoke to the child in Italian. +The baker had stopped at a house by the roadside; the boy was off +like the wind, and soon came up breathless, and handed him the loaf. + +The baker was a kind-hearted man, and gave the child a roll, with +which he ran back to his mother. Then he broke it in two and offered +her the large half, beginning at once to munch the other himself. +The mother took a little of the piece he had given her, but she +seemed too faint and weak to eat more than a mouthful. + +By this time Bryda and her nurse had overtaken them. + +"Little boy," said Bryda shyly, all her pity roused by the scene, +"where do you live?" + +[Illustration: "Little boy," said Bryda shyly, "where do you live?"] + +The child was not shy; he looked her full in the face with his big +black eyes, and pointed to the village. + +"In house-yesterday-next-day," he said in his broken English. + +"You are living there for a few days, are you?" asked Bryda, puzzled. + +The boy nodded. + +"Do tell me your name?" she asked again. + +"Beppo, signorina." + +Here nurse again interposed. She was a cross-grained woman, very +faithful to her duty, but with little sympathy to spare, and she did +not at all approve of "Miss Bryda's notions," about caring for the +poor. + +"When you get your governess and plenty of lessons to do, you won't +be so anxious about them low creatures, miss," she told Bryda. +"Learn to play tunes on the piano, and paint pictures like other +young ladies--that's what you've got to think about." + +But poor little Bryda, though she often, as we have seen, got into +trouble and mischief (for she was not at all a model little girl), +did really want to serve the Lord Jesus, of whose great love she had +learned, and her great wish was to know what a little girl could do +for Him. + +The Lord Jesus was always helping the poor, and she knew His faithful +servants did the same, so it was a sad puzzle to her to find such +treatment as Moll Dawson's, when she tried to do some good. Perhaps +Uncle Jack was right, and she ought not to have tried to do what was +only grown people's work. + +But here was this little Italian boy. He looked sad, and seemed +hungry and very poor, and his mother was so ill. How sad it was! + +Bryda knelt by the window when she came home, and looked up at the +beautiful blue sky, where a happy lark was singing--so high up he +ought to be nearly at the doors of heaven. + +"Our Father," she prayed, "let me help Beppo a little, for Jesus +Christ's sake." + +[Illustration: "Our Father," Bryda prayed, "let me help Beppo."] + +And this little prayer of "one of His little ones" went straight to +the ear of the loving Father, who is always more ready to hear than +we to pray; and very soon it was answered. + +God has so much work for hands, and brains, and tongues, and feet. +In this world a child who loves "helping mother," can do many a +little thing for her, and the work is sooner done, because of such +small helps. And so the great Father, who uses the little dewdrops +to water His thirsty world, will give to every happy, willing worker +_something_ to do, little works for the little ones, more to His +great angels, and at last heaven shall be full of "servants" who +"serve Him" and see His face, and are never sorrowful, or stupid, or +tired, or disappointed in anything any more. + +When Bryda had asked God to let her help Beppo she felt much happier. +She would talk by and by to Cousin Salome about him. + +Meantime she had the greatest of all treats, for in the afternoon +Uncle Jack was going to drive in his dogcart, with Paddy in the +shafts; and the pace at which Paddy went was what Uncle Jack called +"greased lightning." Anyhow, it was something very different from +the solemn jog, jog, jog, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, +four, of Gog and Magog, when the grannies took her out, and old John +dozed on the box. + +"It's so dull to have to drive alone," said Uncle Jack at lunch, with +a heavy sigh. + +"Call for Captain Tomkins, and take him out," said grandmother. + +"I'm so shy," answered Uncle Jack sadly. "But if I could find a +young lady, a very young lady of about eight or so, to come with +me----" + +"Oh! Uncle Jack, take _me_!" burst out Bryda. And so he did; and +best of all, when they were fairly started, Uncle Jack lit a big +cigar, and between the puffs went on with his fairy tale. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE REST OF THE STORY. + +"So the Fairy Set-'em-right waved her hand over the troop of +children. 'You shall all feel like grown-up people,' she said. + +"In a few minutes a strange change began to come over them all. A +great game of 'blind-man's-buff' was going on, when suddenly several +of the girls put themselves into very stiff, solemn attitudes, just +like old maids, and said, 'Really, they thought they were almost +afraid they could not play any more. Such games, especially at their +time of life, were hardly quite proper.' So they would not go on. +Others, again, declared that there was nothing they so thoroughly +enjoyed as watching people playing at these kind of amusements; but +for themselves--well, if the others did not mind, they would like +just to sit quietly and watch. So they did, and presently some of +the boys began stroking that part of their faces where a mustache +might some day grow, and remarking that 'Haw! don't know, you +know--a--this sort of thing was all very well for schoolboys, but +really--a--we could not, you know.'" + +This sentence Uncle Jack brought out with a very funny drawl, the +boys being turned in to dreadfully fashionable fellows. + +"The crowning point," continued Uncle Jack, "was reached when the +blind man, pushing down his bandage, stood still, and addressed this +altered crowd very seriously indeed. 'What miserable folly is this?' +he asked. 'Shall we mortals waste our precious flying moments in--in +what, my brethren?' + +"You see he had turned into a preacher," explained Uncle Jack. + +"'In what a miserable, frivolous occupation! catching each +other!--nay, only _trying_ to catch each other! Poor fools and +blind! let us cease, I say--' But he had no one to say it to, for +the whole audience had gone off in different directions, and the +preacher had only his little brother of five left to listen to his +wise words. 'Come along, Tommy,' said he, 'I will try and find some +one for you to play with, little man.' + +"'Play with!' answered the little brother in a tone of utter +surprise. 'My dear sir, I have no time to play. Letters, telegrams, +appointments by scores fill my time. Let me tell you, sir, there is +no busier man than your humble servant in the whole country.' + +"With which he turned about and strode off with the longest strides +his little legs in their blue sailor trousers could take; for he had +become a man of business. + +"'This is too absurd,' muttered the elder, and went off to look for +the church of which he was vicar. + +"The same remarkable change came over all the children. One little +brat who was busy teasing an unfortunate kitten stopped suddenly, and +rushed off in search of pen and paper, with which he returned, and +began at once to compose an ode 'To Tabitha.' + + "'Fairest pussy ever seen! + With mine eyes of clearest green, + Fly me not.' + +That was how it began, for he had become a poet." + +[Illustration: Tommy had now become a poet.] + +"I thought poets wrote about knights and ladies, and green fields and +the moon," remonstrated Bryda. + +"So they do. But sometimes they want a new subject, and this young +genius thought he had found one. + +"Well, all the children, without losing their child faces and +figures, turned into the sort of people they would be when they were +grown up. So of course their games seemed very dull, and they wanted +grown-up occupations. But not knowing quite how to set to work, they +were all lounging vaguely about, when the clear notes of a bugle +sounded through the city. + +"This was the well-known signal for the assembling of the whole +population in the park, and off went all these queer grown-up +children to the place of meeting. Here they were met by Queen May, +who sat on a garden-chair with her court around her, all looking very +solemn. + +"'My faithful subjects,' said the queen, 'I have sent for you to +consider a very grave question. I regret to state that the affairs +of this kingdom are in a condition which will, perhaps, be best +described as unsatisfactory.' + +"'Hear, hear!' said a gentleman of four, bowing gravely. + +"'Hear, hear!' echoed many voices. + +"'Perhaps the most unsatisfactory point is,' went on Queen May, who, +you see, talked in very grown-up language, 'is, I say, the banishment +of a large portion of the population; that portion, in fact, which we +were formerly accustomed to call our elders and betters.' + +"Cries of 'No, no!' + +"Queen May went on to explain that after all they got on badly +without these elders. With all their efforts the young folks had not +strength or skill to do a variety of things, without which the round +of life seemed likely soon to come to a standstill. So she proposed +that she and all who would go should start at once for the mountain +and fetch home the exiles. + +"There was some murmuring at this. The old law might be carried out, +and the children made wretched again. + +"'And--why, bless me,' said an elderly person of nine, as he fixed on +a double eyeglass with gold rims, 'they might actually want to send +me, me! to bed at eight o'clock!' + +"'Proper conditions would be made,' the queen said. + +"One after another all the objections were overcome, and a long +procession started, with Queen May, mounted on a white pony, at its +head. + +"On arriving at the mountain they were greatly surprised to meet the +king, that stern tyrant who wanted to stop all fun, running as hard +as his legs could carry his fat body, with his crown on the back of +his head, and a green net-bag tied on to the end of his scepter, +chasing a white butterfly. + +"'Please, your majesty,' began Queen May shyly; but the king only +looked round for a moment, and ran on, then tumbled over a furze +bush, so that his crown rolled far away, and the butterfly escaped, +while he lay there kicking. + +"The children were very much surprised at this, and thought the king +must have gone mad, and, in fact, they felt very penitent, for they +supposed his hurried flight must have been too much for the brain, so +they were to blame for this terrible alteration. + +"A little further on, however, they were still more surprised to see +a circle of the most serious old maids in the whole capital, ladies +whose time was mostly spent in making flannel garments for the poor, +or sitting at neat tea-tables with neat curls on each side of their +faces, and a neat cat, curled on a neat cushion, in a neat chair, +close at hand, and these old ladies were all screaming and laughing +like children. + +"These very respectable old ladies now looked anything but neat! +Their curls were flying in all directions, and they were screaming +with laughter, pinching each other, and making all sorts of silly +jokes over a furious game of 'hunt the slipper.' For you see they +had gone back to what they used to like when they were children. + +"Queen May looked at them gravely. + +"'Dear friends,' she said, 'at your age, is this decorous? Is it +proper? Is it even ladylike?' + +"'There it is! Catch it! Catch it!' cried one of the old ladies. + +"'Come and play with us!' cried another. + +"None of the rest paid any attention to the serious looks of the +grown-up children, who went sadly on toward the fort, hoping to find +some one more reasonable. + +"The next person they saw was the lord chancellor, a bald, stout old +gentleman, who was sitting on the woolsack, which, you remember, he +had carried away on his back. He was very busy with a pipe, and the +children thought he was smoking, and grew more hopeful. He might +have some trace of good sense left, they thought, if he could care +for such a grown-up pursuit." + +Here Uncle Jack offered his cigar to Bryda politely; but she made a +face and turned her head away. + +"I don't want to be so grown-up as _that_," she said. + +"Oh!" said Uncle Jack, with his funny face, that he always put on to +tease Bryda. "Oh, I thought you wanted to grow up all of a sudden." + +"Well--only for some things," answered she, feeling that Uncle Jack +was taking a mean advantage in remembering her sayings, and bringing +them up again. "Please go on," she added hastily. + +Uncle Jack winked at her very slowly and solemnly; then took a good +puff at his cigar, and went on. + +"When they came up he was found to be blowing soap-bubbles! + +"'A-ah!' he spluttered, trying to talk with the pipe in his mouth. +'D-don't break it, please! There!' as the bubble burst and vanished; +'it's too bad, I declare! Directly I get a really good one, big and +bright, that always happens. Have a try,' he added, offering Queen +May the pipe. + +"'I say, my lord,' said the major-general commanding the royal army, +coming up at the moment, 'can you tell me how to mend lead soldiers? +I've tried gum and glue, and one of the maids of honor tried to sew +one, but somehow they don't join properly. It's a horrid bore, and +that fellow, the speaker, won't let me have a ride on his +rocking-horse. I'd punch him, only he's six feet three, and as broad +as he's long. So I don't know what to play at.' + +"'It _is_ slow,' answered the lord chancellor, pityingly. 'Never +mind, old chap, come up to the fort and we'll make some toffee.' + +"So the elderly gentlemen went off arm-in-arm, and Queen May shook +her head sadly. + +"'They are all mad, poor things! What are we to do?' + +"'Hi! hi!' cried a voice, and looking round they saw that tall, +handsome nobleman, the master of the horse, running toward them as +fast as he could. At last, perhaps, they had found some one to speak +sensibly to. + +"'Hi! you fellows,' he cried breathlessly; 'stop a minute, will you? +Is that a circus pony? and can he do tricks? Sit up with a hat on, +and drink out of teacups, I mean.' + +"'Certainly not,' replied Queen May, with her utmost dignity. 'I +hardly understand, Lord Moyers, how you can ask such a strange +question. Did you ever see a lady, especially if she were a crowned +queen, riding a circus pony?' + +"Lord Moyers giggled, and turned head-over heels on the spot, after +which he rushed off again to join the rest of the House of Lords, who +were playing 'hi! cockalorum,' close by. + +"The procession went on very sorrowfully toward the fort. It grieved +them to see this frivolity in those to whom they had been taught to +look up. + +"'Alas, my country!' sighed Eric, the boy who, you remember, had +proposed to kill the pig before he was touched with the fairy wand. + +"Perhaps it was on arriving at the gates of the fort that the very +strangest sight was seen. The queen was a very stout and middle-aged +person, of rather stern countenance, and here she was busy with a +skipping rope--her hair loose, her royal robes tucked up, and her +crown on one side. + +"'It's the best fun and the finest exercise in the world,' she +gasped, 'If I could only skip twice to one turn of the rope!' + +"And on she went, while the children watched. But there was +something so utterly ridiculous about the sight that Queen May and +her followers, after various vain efforts to suppress their mirth, +burst into one peal of laughter, which rang merrily through the old +fort, and over the hillside. + +"It broke the charm, and in a moment the children became children +again, and the grown people became as they were before. + +"There was a large flat field on the mountain top, in front of the +gates of the old fort, and here all the exiles were in a few minutes +assembled. + +"The king was about to address them, when in a moment, no one knowing +how she came there, the Fairy Set-'em-right stood among them, close +beside his majesty. + +"'You have all learned a lesson, and I will put it into words for +you,' she said." + +"Oh, dear!" interrupted Bryda, "here comes the moral! Don't make a +very hard one, Uncle Jack, please!" + +He laughed. "I must finish this truthful story truthfully, miss. + +"She said, turning to the king and queen: + +"'Your fault was that you forgot you once were young yourselves.'" + +Bryda nodded her head very wisely. + +"'And you, children, forgot that you could not do without old people. +That wicked law is at once repealed.' + +"'Certainly, ma'am,' said the king, bowing. + +"'Children are to be children, and behave as such, and be treated as +such. Parents are parents, the children are not to forget that. Now +go home all of you, and don't forget this one one caution, _I've got +my eye on you_.' + +"With these awful words the fairy vanished. And that's the end of +the story." + +"And a very nice ending, too!" said Bryda. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A PRINCE IN DISGUISE. + +More good-tempered than usual next morning, nurse was easily +persuaded by Bryda that the village would be quite the nicest +direction for a walk. She wanted to see that nice old Roger again, +and perhaps they might even meet Beppo. She begged a roll left from +breakfast, and put it, wrapped in a sheet of old copy-book, with some +pennies, in her pocket. + +The blacksmith was in his forge, and had some very important news for +nurse, and Roger was outside his door busily weaving the cane seat of +a chair he had made, for he was a jack-of-two-trades, if not of all +trades, and made chairs from beginning to end. + +"Good morning, Roger," said Bryda, as she came up. + +"Good morning, missy. A good morning it is, though not like +yesterday. That was a sort o' wedding day, with the world in a green +dress, covered with jewels made of dewdrops, while the birds sang a +hymn, and the great gold sun came in his best blue dress to marry +her," answered the poetical Roger. + +"And to-day, Roger? What's that like?" + +"All! to-day's a good honest workin' day, missy, made for the busy +bees and all the Lord's workin' folk." + +"Cats aren't working folk," said Bryda, stroking Roger's sleek tabby. + +"Maybe cats' work is to keep lone folk company, missy," said the +disguised prince, for as such his little friend always thought of him. + +"Shall you have cats in your palace?" she asked. + +"That'll be as the king pleases, missy. I do hope so, for I be main +fond o' cats." + +"Is tabby very old? she's very lazy." + +"I don't rightly know how old she is. You see, missy, nigh on two +years ago my housecat died. Well, I suppose the village cats told +each other when they met on the house-tops at night. Anyhow I never +could open my door of a morning that there wasn't one cat, or maybe +two and three cats, applying for the situation, each one with a +first-rate character from his last place." + +Bryda laughed heartily. "How did they tell you?" + +"How? Why, bless you, little miss, it's often easier to know what +God Almighty's brutes mean than what men mean, for all we call the +brutes dumb. Tell me all about it they did, rubbin' against me and +purrin', how the master of one had gone away, and the mistress of +another was dead; and how one was a real good mouser, and another was +that honest he'd rather starve than steal. + +"Well, the long and short of it is, missy, I took Mrs. Tabby for a +month on trial, to see if she'd make a good housekeeper. An' we +suited, she and I, and she's never given me warning yet, nor I her, +so I don't think we'll part company till I go home." + +"When are you going, Roger?" asked Bryda. She could not help +puzzling a good deal over this story of the old man's, about his +palace home; but he spoke so simply and naturally that she could not +doubt that he spoke the truth. + +"I don't rightly know," he answered slowly; "I'm thinking when it's +ready they'll let me know. But I'd be main glad to stay a little +longer now, Miss Bryda, for all I've often wearied to be there. +Shall I show you why?" + +"Please do." + +The old carpenter got up and opened a door opposite to that which led +to his own little room, and there Bryda saw a touching sight. + +[Illustration: (Old Italian woman in chair with Beppo)] + +The poor Italian woman was sitting propped up with pillows in a +straight-backed old armchair, with Beppo in her arms. The child +seemed to have grown sleepy after play, or perhaps, like his +countrymen, he was accustomed to take a nap at midday. At all events +he was sleeping, and the poor sick mother was gently rocking the +heavy boy, and singing a soft little Italian cradle song: + + "Ninni, ninni, ninni, nanna, + Ninni, nanna, ninni, nolu, + Allegrezza di la mamma, + Addormentati, oh figliolu." + + +That is: + + "Joy of thy mother, + Fall asleep, oh, my little son!" + + +How white she looked and how weary! She laid her finger on her lip, +and looked at the curly black head on her knee. Roger closed the +door softly, and went back to his seat on tiptoe. + +"I think, missy," he said, "it won't be long before the Everlasting +Arms are put round her, to soothe her gently to sleep, as she do the +little 'un." + +"Is she _dying_, Roger?" asked Bryda, in an awe-struck voice. + +"Ay," answered the carpenter, wiping his spectacles, which had +suddenly grown dim. "That little black head'll not long have a +mother to lean against; though she'll want for nothing as I can get +her; and doctor, he sent her full two pints o' stuff, all for +nothing. But he shook his head, he did, and I know what he means by +that only too well; he did it to my Liz twenty-five years ago, come +March next." + +Bryda felt very sorrowful. Her own mother had gone to India, but +then she wrote letters, nice long ones, every week. And she would +come back. But poor Beppo would have no letter from his mother if +once she went away, as she knew Roger's loved wife Liz had done, for +there was an old gravestone by the old church door with that one +little word roughly cut upon it--"Liz." And on it last Sunday she +had seen the old man lay a bunch of fresh flowers, as he passed in to +pray. + +"Will you share your riches with her, Roger--that money you told me +you had stored away?" she asked. + +"My hid treasure, missy? Ah, that I will! There's so much o' +that--ah, so much!--that I might share it wi' every soul as passed +the door and be none the worse off mysel'." + +"You won't want it in your palace, will you? Or is there more of it +there? Chests and chests of precious things all the palaces in fairy +tales have in them. But they are only made up," added Bryda, with a +little sigh. "That's the worst of fairy tales. But your treasures +are really true, aren't they, Roger?" + +"True when all else is false, missy; safe when all else is lost; real +when all else is a sham." + +Bryda longed to ask more about this wonderful wealth of the old man +who looked so poor. He must be a miser, she thought. + +"Roger, are all the king's sons as rich as you are? and his +daughters? or are you the eldest?" + +"There's enough for all alike, missy. No one's too rich or too poor +in our Father's house. But our Elder Brother, missy, there's none +like him--none. The only wonder is as he isn't ashamed of his +sisters and brothers, so far as he is above them, and so much greater +than ever since his work was finished." + +"Oh, do tell me about him! Oh, nurse! don't go on yet, please!" +implored Bryda, as nurse came up the little garden-path with hasty +step. + +But nurse would not stay. She always said she "couldn't abide that +old Methody carpenter;" and the real reason of her dislike was that +once before, when she had brought Bryda to stay with the grannies, +old Roger had said something she did not care to hear, because she +had helped to spread a cruel mischief-making story about the village. + +So Bryda left her roll and her pence with Roger, and went on with +nurse. + +Bryda had not seen the last of Beppo for that day. There was a +private walk through the grounds, which led to the church. The +grannies could not walk so far, and the old carriage always came to +take them to church. But this afternoon, as Bryda was wandering in +the garden, it struck her that she would like to take some flowers +and put them on the grave of Roger's dear Liz. It would please the +old man to see them there. + +Bryda, of course, had never seen Liz. + +"But I know exactly what she was like," she told herself. "She was +not very tall, but just nice; and she had violet eyes and long black +lashes, and pretty rosy cheeks--not too red, but pink like a peach. +Oh, I know she was nice! And she always wore a brown gown, and a red +handkerchief crossed on her chest. And I don't wonder Roger loved +her. I should, too, for she always spoke gently, not like nurse." + +So Bryda grew quite fond of the Liz she had thus invented while she +gathered her flowers. + +"I wonder what flower Liz was like? Cousin Salome says we ought all +to be like flowers in God's garden. If we are, I'd rather be like +some flowers than others. Here is a tall orange lily. Oh, you +great, showy thing! How stiff and proud you are! And I tell you +you're not so very pretty, after all," said Bryda severely. + +The orange lily did not seem to mind in the least, but stood up just +as proudly as ever. + +"You poppies, red and white," went on Bryda, "you have much nicer +manners: you're like ladies who are polite as well, and say nicely, +'How do you do, Mr. Jones? Will you sell me some chickens, please?' +You yellow flowers--I don't know your name--you're very nice till one +comes close, and then you smell horrid. I think you are like people +who are very polite to strangers, but are nasty and cross at home, +and slap when they play games. + +"You, dear roses," she went on, talking to all the flowers in turn, +"you are really too lovely! But I mustn't put you on Liz's grave, +because the grannies don't like you gathered; you are like beautiful +ladies in pictures, who get prettier and prettier if you go on +looking at them. + +"Here are pansies--hearts'ease, nurse calls them. That is the right +flower for Liz! She was so gentle, and good, and kind that she made +every one happy. If you fell down and were hurt, or if you had that +horrid ache all over, that comes of being naughty or unhappy, and you +told Liz, she would make you all right in no time. She shall have +hearts'ease on her grave and nothing else, except a little +mignonette, for that is quiet and sweet like she was." + +[Illustration: (Bryda and her wreath of flowers)] + +So Bryda twisted up a pretty wreath of hearts'ease and mignonette, to +take to the grave of this Liz, whose looks and character you see she +had invented for herself, for you know if the carpenter was really a +prince in disguise, of course his wife and daughter were princesses. +Bryda would take the first possible chance of asking old Roger more +about his brother and about the palace, and if he would not be sorry +that Liz could never go there with him. Meanwhile she set off down +the pretty shrubbery walk with her simple little wreath to lay on the +princess' grave. + +"No one would call her Princess Liz. I suppose she was Princess +Elizabeth," she said to herself. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +BEPPO'S FRIEND. + +Away went Miss Bryda, with her head full of Liz and her charms, the +flowers in her hand, to the churchyard. + +It was peaceful there in the quiet September sunshine, and Bryda felt +sorry to think that the dead people could not see how pretty their +resting-place looked. It was a large churchyard, with some old +vaults, and white crosses over newer graves; indeed, many generations +of old and young were asleep there. It was a city of rest, with the +gray old church for its temple in the middle; and its streets were +mossy paths, as unlike as possible to the great, noisy, restless +streets of the big towns of the living. + +Bryda put her green wreath with its purple and yellow stars on the +humble grave where there was no grand inscription like that to Sir +Jocelyn de Wraymont close by, with all his virtues in capital letters +after his name; but only that one word "Liz." + +Then she went and tried the door of the old church. It was open; the +vicar never allowed the building to be closed, unless there was some +urgent reason, so that any one who wanted to think or to pray quietly +might come in there. At first the village people thought this an odd +idea, but after a little time first one and then another found out +this quiet refuge and slipped in. There was always service morning +and evening for those who could spare time to attend; and though the +worshipers were always few, yet, as the vicar said, "they could pray +for everybody, and the Father was so gracious that if only two or +three were met together it would please Him." + +When Bryda went in there was nobody in the building but an old man, +who had just risen and was going out on tiptoe, with the sunshine +from a painted window on his bent, white head. Bryda felt sorry for +him, he seemed so old and feeble; she would have been still more +sorry had she known that it was the evil doing of his two sons, and +even of his daughter (for he was Moll Dawson's old father), that made +him look old and bent before his time; sounds of quarreling were so +often heard from the uncomfortable cottage he called home that he +often escaped to the quiet church. There he would sit by the hour, +sometimes with tears rolling slowly down his furrowed cheeks, and +then go home very weary, for when we are young we are not much the +worse for "a good cry," but old people's tears are few and bitter. + +Bryda watched this old man go out, and then stood still, wondering +whether she should go in herself, when her attention was attracted by +a low sound, like that of some one sobbing quietly. She listened; +the sound stopped a moment, then began again. It was certainly +someone crying, and for a moment she felt half-frightened, for she +could not see any one. + +Then a better thought came. Perhaps she could try and comfort some +one who was unhappy, and that might be a little bit of the "Lord's +work." She had once heard her mother say that a child was sometimes +the best of all earthly comforters. + +So very quietly she stole up the side aisle, and there, behind a +pillar, she found--Beppo! + +Yes, poor little Beppo! Crouched on the ground, half-kneeling, +leaning against the cold pillar, the poor child with passionate sobs +seemed to be pouring out all his heart. His great black eyes were +fixed on a beautiful painted window opposite. This window had been +put in to the memory of a very good and charitable young lady, whose +early death had been deeply mourned by every one who knew her, and it +showed a lovely figure, with angel's wings, and a face of pity, +gently raising a sick child, and looking at him tenderly. + +Poor little Beppo, alone and lonely, had crept into the church, and +gazing long on the beautiful window, had presently thought the kind +face was watching him with pity. + +He was in bitter grief, for his dearly-loved mother had been trying +to tell him she would soon go away never to return. She had +succeeded only too well, for the poor child, when at last he +understood, brushing past kind old Roger, rushed from the house to +the church where he could be alone. In his own country the church is +a refuge for the sorrowful, always open for any one who will enter; +so in this strange land he naturally sought the old gray building. + +Poor little boy! he was very young and very ignorant, and he had been +taught to ask for, and to hope for, the help of saints and angels. +The doctor could do little for his mother; Roger, kind as he was, +could not save her; and poor little Beppo, wild with grief, and in +the midst of strangers who could scarcely understand what he said, +threw himself before this lovely figure in the window, and thought +that at last he had found a friend to help him. + +All this Bryda learned, but really it was rather difficult. She +could not "make up" Italian that Beppo would understand, in the easy +way in which she and Maurice Grey made up Latin to talk to each other +when they played at Charon's boat. + +Then Beppo's English was very odd, and his story was so often +interrupted by sobs, that quite a long time had passed before the +little comforter was able to make out the younger child's trouble, +and to understand that he had been talking to the angel in the +beautiful window when she found him. + +[Illustration: (Bryda and Beppo)] + +Little Bryda was sadly puzzled. How was she to comfort Beppo? What +could she say? + +She could not tell him to hope his mother would get better. That the +doctor said could never be. Could she comfort Beppo with a lie? No, +never! + +She could not say the angel would do the poor dying woman good. The +angel was very beautiful, but after all she was only made of glass +and paint. + +So, after looking sadly at Beppo's tear-stained face and little +drooping figure, all she could, say was: + +"Oh, Beppo! I am so sorry!" + +And with that she threw her arms round him, and together the two +children cried, till Beppo's sobs came more gently. This little +English girl was sorry because he was unhappy. After all he was not +so lonely! + +"Children!" said a voice near them, so near that both started and +looked up. Bryda sprang to her feet, and held Beppo by the hand, +feeling as if they were both likely to be scolded for making the +church a place to cry in. + +But there was no anger on the loving, kind face of the old vicar, who +stood before them, only great pity for whatever trouble had caused +these tears. The Good Shepherd, his Master, cares as much for the +pains of His lambs as for those of His most prized sheep, and His +messenger would give as much care to these two children as to the +greatest people in the land. + +Beckoning them to follow, he went quietly down the aisle and out into +the churchyard; there, taking a hand of each, he led them to a seat +that was placed under a spreading tree among the graves. + +"Now tell me all about it," he said kindly; and Bryda forgot to be +shy as she looked into his face, and soon told all Beppo's story +while the little boy looked with wide black eyes, that had no tears +in them now, at his new friends, the old clergyman and the little +girl. + +"I see, I see!" said Mr. Joyce, for that was the vicar's name. + +"And now, Beppo, can you understand if I speak English? because then, +if I talk to you, this young lady will understand too." + +Beppo nodded his head. + +Mr. Joyce went on: "There was once a little boy, no matter how long +ago, whose little sister was very ill--so ill that the doctor said +there was no hope that she could live many days. Now in the country +where these children lived it was always believed that if any mortal +could get one leaf from the Tree of Life, that grew in the garden of +God, every illness would be cured at once. But no one had ever tried +to get this leaf, because the journey was steep and rough to the +gates of the garden, and because an Angel stood there to keep the +gate and would let no one pass. But this little boy loved his sister +so well--as well, I think, as Beppo loves his mother." + +Beppo's dark eyes filled with tears again, and the vicar laid a hand +gently on his shoulder. + +"So well that he could not have loved her more if he had tried with +all his might. And, when all other hope seemed gone, he said, 'I +will go, I will beg of the Angel at the gate to let me in for one +moment, or to give me a leaf, only one leaf, from the Tree.' + +"So he went by the long, rough way, till in the golden sunset he +stood before that great Angel, and trembling made his request. + +"'None can enter this garden but those children of the King for whom +He has sent, that they may be with Him. I can let no other enter,' +answered the Angel. + +"'But one leaf,' prayed the child, 'one little leaf to cure my +sister. The King will not be angry!'" + +"And as he spoke he could hear, though he could not see into the +garden, the Tree rustling gently, and the birds among the branches +warbling the praises of the King of Glory. + +"Only one leaf, and there were so many on the tree! 'The King, the +loving Father, cannot wish that my poor little sister should have to +suffer so, and then die and leave me all alone! Have pity upon me, +great Angel, it is such a little thing I ask!' entreated the child. + +"But the Angel looked down upon him with deep love and pity in his +eyes. + +"'The King has sent my brother, the Angel of Death, to bring your +sister to Him. She shall dwell forever in the light of His smile. +If you are allowed to keep her, will you promise me to take care that +she shall never again lie tossing on a sick bed?' + +"'How can I?' said the child, wondering. 'Not even the wisest +physicians can always heal diseases at once.' + +"'Then will you promise that she shall never be unhappy? never do +wrong, and suffer shame and sorrow? never be cold, hungry, tired? +that no one shall speak to her harshly?' asked the Angel. + +"'Not if I can help it,' answered the child. 'But perhaps I could +not always make her happy, even when I am grown up.' + +"'Then the world where you want to keep her is rather a sad place,' +the Angel said gently. 'Now I will open the gate a little, and you +shall look in for a moment, and if you still wish it, my child, I +will ask myself that you may have a leaf from the Tree of Life, that +your sister may stay upon earth with you.' + +"So the Angel who kept the golden gate opened it a very little way, +and as the mighty door rolled back for a moment, the child could see +into the Land where by the river stands the Tree of Life, and where +those who are counted worthy walk forever in white--where they need +no candle, neither light of the sun, because the smile of God is the +light of that wonderful place, and His servants shall serve Him, and +no tongue can tell the happiness that is theirs forever and ever." + +"Did the little boy see right into heaven?" asked Bryda, in a low +tone. "Oh, do tell us what he saw!" + +"I cannot tell you what he saw," answered the vicar; "you and I, +little Bryda, have to wait awhile, it may be for me a very little +while, trusting that the Father will in His mercy, for His Son's +sake, give us a place there. But this I will tell you, that the +child turned toward the beautiful Angel with eyes full of wonder and +surprise. + +"'I will not ask it now,' he said; 'I think there is no friend so +kind as the Angel of Death, who seems to us so dreadful. Oh, I wish +he would take me, too!' And the Angel answered: + +"'When all the lessons which the Father desires you to learn in His +school, which is called the Earth, are learned; when the little piece +of His great work that is meant for your hands is finished, then the +Angel will come for you too, my child, if only you are true and +faithful.' + +"And the child turned away and went back under the stars, that were +like eyes of angels watching him, back from the golden gates to his +home in the world. And as he went a golden ray shot once across his +path, and brought a sound of wonderful music, such as he had never +heard. And he knew that the golden gates had opened, and his sister +had passed in. On a little bed at home lay her body, white and +still, but he knew that it was only the dress she had worn in the +world. And the child was comforted." + +And Beppo was comforted too. As the vicar spoke, he imagined a +country more beautiful than his own Italy, where golden oranges hang +in the dark-green leaves, and the wonderful blue sea sleeps under the +blue sky, but where people are sick and sorrowful as they are +everywhere in the world. His dear mother would go to that wonderful +place, so beautiful that even this wise gentleman could not tell him +exactly what it was like. She would never cough, nor be tired nor +hungry again! + +But the bells began to ring for service. + +"Come, Beppo, I will take you home," said Mr. Joyce; and Bryda said +good-by to both, and went slowly home along the shrubbery path. + +This has been a sad chapter; but you see there are sad parts even in +the lives of children; and if Bryda was not in quite such wild +spirits as usual, she certainly did not feel unhappy that evening, +when, sitting by Cousin Salome's couch, she told her all that had +happened. + +"Don't you think," said kind Salome, "that if you were to bring Beppo +here in the afternoon, Bryda, you and I could teach him a little +about a better Friend than his angel in the window, a Friend Who can +and will help him, and Who will never die and leave him, never change +and forget him?" + +And Bryda very gladly promised to bring Beppo next day. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +DREADFULLY FRIGHTENED. + +"Miss Bryda," said Uncle Jack at breakfast next morning, "if you knew +what I know you would be a good deal wiser than you are now." + +"I dare say I should, Uncle Jack," answered Bryda, pouting. "I +suppose you mean if I knew all the dates of all the Norman kings, and +could speak French without any mistakes, and--and--several other +things." + +"Such as how many beans make five? and that useful kind of thing to +know, I suppose? But if I were a little girl, and any one told me +the very nice piece of news which I think I had better not tell you, +why, I should really and truly, I do believe, be obliged to get up +and give the person a kiss. Especially if he was young and very +handsome!" added Uncle Jack, twirling his mustache, and looking very +seriously at his niece. Evidently the only chance of getting this +news was to get up and give him a kiss, which Bryda did, and both she +and Uncle Jack were promptly scolded by grandmother, who said that in +_her_ young days she used to sit still at breakfast till every one +had finished. + +Uncle Jack begged her pardon at once, very politely indeed, and then +told Bryda his piece of news. + +"I know a field, a very little way off, where there is a hedge simply +crawling with blackberries." + +Grandmother was a little deaf, so she did not hear what he said quite +lightly, and with a little scream she said: + +"Crawling with black beetles! Oh, John! for pity's sake have them +all killed at once!" + +"I will, mother, dear, and they shall be made into jelly for your +dinner," said Uncle Jack, laughing. + +But the dear old lady grew quite excited about the black beetles, and +he had with some trouble to explain that a hedge crawling with +blackberries was a way of speaking that he had invented to make Bryda +laugh. "She so seldom does laugh, poor child!" he said. + +Well, Uncle Jack was going to shoot this morning, and he would take +Bryda to the blackberry hedge, and leave her there till he came back +again. + +So he did; and Bryda, as she marched off with a big basket on her +arm, beside Uncle Jack with a gun, made a little request. + +"Might Beppo come and help her? It would be a very little round to +pass old Roger's cottage, Bryda would like it so." + +"Why, what a little coax it is!" said Uncle Jack; "and, pray, who is +Beppo?" + +Bryda soon explained, telling Uncle Jack all about the little boy who +so much interested her and his poor mother. + +"And he's such a nice boy," she ended. "He has curly hair, and big +black eyes, and speaks such very funny English." + +"He must be a nice little boy with all those charms!" laughed Uncle +Jack. And to Roger's cottage they went. + +Roger was at home, and so was his cat. Uncle Jack began to talk to +the old man. Bryda, after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat, +and sat down on a stool to pretend it was a baby, and put it to +sleep, with her eyes continually fixed on the door of the Italian +woman's room. + +[Illustration: Bryda after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat.] + +Into this room Uncle Jack went presently, and Bryda was left alone +with Roger. Now was the time to ask him about Liz and his palace +home, and if he was not sorry Liz had died before he could go there. + +"Roger," she asked, not quite knowing how to begin, "when did you say +you were going home?" + +"As soon as I've finished the bit o' work I've had set me here, +missy. Maybe if I'd made fewer mistakes over it I'd be there by now. +It's, oh! my clumsy hands, never fit to touch it at all!" + +"Do you mean your carpentering?" asked Bryda, wondering. + +"Not quite that, Miss Bryda," answered the old man, looking away +through the little window. "It's weaving work more than carpentering +work, making a bit of the Bride's beautiful marriage dress. There's +a-many weavers set to that work, missy--ay, many they are! And some +waste the materials and do naught; an' some put gold and silver +thread into the pattern anyhow, an' it's all mixed and spoiled. But +there's some good workers weave the bright threads and the dull +threads as they were meant to be, and work real pearls on it, and +seldom make a fault. That's how my Liz worked; but I've been a +clumsy one--ah, sad and clumsy old Roger's been all his life!" + +"When will the wedding be, Roger, and where? Is it to be in the old +church here?" + +Roger shook his head. + +"When will the dress be finished, missy, the Bride's beautiful dress +that's so long a-makin'? An' where will----" + +Here Roger was interrupted, much to Bryda's grief, for Uncle Jack +came out of the sick-room, looking much less cheerful than when he +went in, and leading Beppo by the hand. He spoke in a low tone to +Roger, to whom Bryda saw him give money, and wondered why he should, +when the old man was, she believed, so rich already. Then beckoning +to Bryda, he left the cottage. + +"Now, Beppo, you shall go and play with this young lady. Will you be +very good?" he asked, outside. + +"Oh, si, si! I mean say, yes, sir!" answered the little Italian, +looking brightly at Bryda, who seemed to him now quite an old friend, +and speaking his queer English. + +So Uncle Jack led them both into his blackberry field, which was +quite as good as he had said. + +"It's simply beautiful!" Bryda said to Uncle Jack as he went away, +promising to return by and by and fetch them. + +Left alone, the two children were happy enough, and their tongues +wagged very fast indeed. Beppo told his little companion about his +own country, where oranges, hanging on dark-green trees, might be had +for the trouble of gathering; and about beautiful vineyards, with +clusters of white and purple grapes, and the merry, merry +vintage-time. Ah! if they could go back to Italy again, he was sure +his dear, dear mother would be quite well again! His father was +dead, and the mother grew poorer and poorer in her own country, and +at last she dreamed night after night that if she would go north to +England she would be able to get money for herself and her boy, and +come home quite rich. But it was not so; people did not seem to like +barrel-organs much, and the little money his mother had had all gone +to buy this instrument. + +Often they had been sent from houses with angry words; often they had +nowhere to sleep; often they had nothing to eat. + +Bryda had never known real hunger. She had known how pleasant it was +to come in tired and hungry after a long expedition, and how +delicious bread and butter tasted then, and jam! but to ache with +hunger, and, when ready to faint, not to have any food, how terrible +that must be! + +But very soon both Bryda and Beppo forgot that there ever had been +any troubles in the world, they were so busy and so happy with the +blackberries. + +What a delightful amusement blackberry hunting is! To see the basket +filling fast with the fat, sweet, well-flavored berries; to eat one +after another, because this one is crushed or that one is too nice to +part with, or a third may have a different flavor since it grows on +another bush--how nice it is! We eat, and chatter, and eat again, +till fingers and mouths are stained a dark-red color; and how we +laugh and make fun! Only one thing vexes us--that is, that the very +nicest, finest fellows always _will_ grow right up at the top of the +hedge, just out of reach even of our longest stick! They would be so +nice; but very often, after struggling a good deal, scratching faces +and hands, and getting wet feet by slipping into the ditch, we have +to give it up and own ourselves beaten. + +Never mind! we have generally quite enough for the jam or the +puddings we want to make, and in great triumph we go home, each +boasting of having gathered most! + +So Bryda and Beppo amused themselves, and wandered on at last to the +other end of the field. Here there was a gate leading into another +field, where was a very high hedge with what seemed to the children +the best blackberries they had seen. + +[Illustration: Bryda and Beppo amused themselves wandering about the +field.] + +In a moment they were through the bars of the high gate and in the +field. Just as they entered it a loud shout came from before them; +and Bryda, looking across the field, saw the terrible Moll Dawson +waving her hands and shouting to them. + +Terrified, she caught Beppo's hand, and dragged him further into the +field. On the side where the blackberries were there were also some +trees, and beyond was a little wood. They might hide in this, and be +safe. If Moll Dawson found them what would she not do? She might +take all their blackberries. She might ill-treat them in some +dreadful way. She was so big and strong, and there was no help near. +What might she not do? + +So Bryda and her companion, poor Beppo! who was frightened because +she was frightened--though he did not in the least know why--these +two fled further into the field, while Moll Dawson still beckoned and +called. + +Bryda, seeing that the girl did not come into the field, took courage +a little, and looked about her. Oh, terror! if she was frightened +before, she was now as if rooted to the ground with fear. + +Sullenly coming toward the poor children, sniffing violently as he +came, and glaring at them with wicked eyes, was an immense bull! + +"Run, Beppo!" screamed Bryda. Beppo looked at her a moment. "Run! +I am coming!" she cried; and Beppo was off like the wind toward the +gate where Moll Dawson beckoned. + +Bryda, looking round a moment, saw a great board, with "Beware of the +Bull!" nailed against a tree in the middle of the field. + +Only for a moment she looked. Was there any hope of her being able +to climb a tree? Which gate was nearest? The dreadful animal was +some little way off. If Bryda ran with Beppo she might escape. In a +second she was off; but, alas! alas! the bull was after her. + +He came on bellowing and roaring. + +Beppo was safe. He reached the gate before Bryda; but she, rushing +half-blind with terror, tripped as the fierce animal was close behind +her, and with a wild shriek fell flat on her face a yard or two from +the gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SOME USE FOR MOLL. + +Flat on your face, and a raging bull coming after you! That is a +terrible position! It is never wise to run races with a bull, or a +horse, or a greyhound, or anything else that has four legs--except, +perhaps, a very fat prize pig, or the kitchen table. What can you, +with two legs, do against four legs? + +Besides, poor Bryda felt that there was no one to help her; there was +only Moll Dawson near, of whom she was nearly as much afraid as she +was of the bull; and poor little helpless Beppo, whose eyes grew, +like those of the dog in the fairy tale, as big as saucers with +terror, as he stood, panting but safe, on the right side of the gate. + +Stay! there was one Friend, to whom Bryda had long ago learned at her +mother's knee to look for help. She had, indeed, never been in any +such danger before, but mother had, and many a time she had told +Bryda of the time of peril when the ship was said to be about to go +down on the broad Atlantic, and no help was near--no human help, at +least. And the chaplain gathered together all who could or would +come, and cried to Him Who holds the seas in the hollow of His hand. + +"In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for +succor, but of Thee, O Lord? ... Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of +our hearts; shut not Thy merciful ears unto our prayer; but spare us, +Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour!" + +So the chaplain prayed, and the sea went down, as once did the waves +of Galilee when the Lord of winds and waves willed it, and mother and +all the shipload were saved. And so Bryda cried to the loving +Saviour as she fell, and to her, too, came help in the way she least +expected. For as the bull with angry red eyes and dreadful sharp +horns had nearly reached her, when all hope seemed gone, and she had +not strength to try and rise, a shawl deftly thrown fell right over +the furious animal's head, making him stop and then turn round, +bellowing frantically, as if he meant to ask who dared to interfere +in this way with his great will and pleasure, which was to toss an +insignificant child. There were plenty of children in the world, +pray why should he not toss one if he so pleased? he seemed to ask. + +While his majesty was expressing something of this sort very noisily, +a strong hand rather roughly seized the fallen Bryda, picked her up, +and dragged her over or through--she never knew which--the great, +strong, five-barred gate, where Beppo stood already, and watched, +white with terror, having had time to take breath. + +Bryda was not white, she was red-hot and breathless, and it was +several seconds before she could collect her scattered wits enough to +see the bull tearing the shawl to pieces, with a strong wall and gate +between himself and her, and also to see that her preserver was no +other than that great object of her terror, Moll Dawson. + +"Now then," said Moll roughly, as she tried to pinch Bryda's hat into +shape again. "You're a foolish one, you are. Why didn't you stop +when you heard me screechin'?" + +"Because--I--because--" stammered Bryda, who felt she could not tell +Moll that the "screechin'" had made her run as fast as possible in +the other direction from that Moll intended. + +The girl burst into a loud laugh. "You're a softy, upon my word! So +you thought I'd eat yer blackberries and yer blessed selves arter +them! But it was out of the fryin'-pan into the fire this time, and +no mistake. Oh, I see ye blushing! Tell Moll Dawson no stories; +she's too 'cute for the likes o' you." + +"I don't want to tell stories," said poor Bryda, with tears in her +eyes. "Indeed, indeed I am grateful. That bull would have torn me +to pieces, as he is tearing your shawl." + +And Bryda turned quite sick at the sight of the great brute stamping +on fragments of the shawl, then, tearing them afresh with his horns, +bellowing all the time as if it was quite an amusement to destroy +something. + +"I shall ask grannie to give me a new shawl for you, Moll," said +Bryda. + +"Don't trouble your head, child; it's only a old rag, bless you. So +soon as I can earn a bit o' money I'll have a jacket wi' beads all +over, like a young lady. Not as that they'll take me for a lady--not +even the boys at the factory. Give me that pretty blue silk +handkerchief on your neck," went on Moll, with a sudden change of +tone. This was a command rather than a request, to judge by the tone +in which it was spoken; but Bryda hesitated--mother had given it to +her just before she went away. + +The girl, seeing she hesitated, laughed again loud and bitterly--a +laugh without merriment. + +"Oh! keep your things to yourself! I want none of them! Silk +handkerchiefs are not for the likes of me, nor nothin' else that's +good--only sharp words and crooked looks." Here Moll threw herself +down on the nearest bank, and tore some white queen-daisies to bits. + +"Here, take it, Moll!" said Bryda, as she snatched off her +handkerchief. "I am sure you are welcome to it, and anything else I +have;" and with a gentle coaxing way she tied the scarf round Moll +Dawson's neck. The rough girl looked more gracious; she bent her +neck to try and catch a glimpse of this bit of finery, then looked up +at Bryda again. + +[Illustration: (Bryda giving Moll her handkerchief)] + +"You've got a gran, too! I've seen her. Does she beat you very +often?" was her next remark. + +Bryda and Beppo both stared open-mouthed at this question. +Grandmother would as soon think of---- + +"Never!" said Bryda at last, very decidedly. + +"I suppose she's kind, then?" + +Bryda nodded expressively, + +"Well, my gran ain't," pursued poor Moll. "Beats us with the poker, +for all she pretended to be so ill and weak when you brought soup o' +Sunday, missy. We're a bad lot, we are, all but father; he'd be good +if he could, I know." + +"Oh, Moll!" said Bryda, answering the girl's miserable tone as much +as her words, "why don't you try and be good?" + +"I suppose you're good?" said the girl; "it is not hard for such as +you to keep straight." + +"Indeed, I am not good," cried truthful Bryda, remembering a great +many faults at once. "I'm so often in mischief or some trouble that +Uncle Jack says I live in a jar of mixed pickles. But I do want to +be good for all that." + +"So you will some day, when you're a fine lady. And, I warrant, +you're not real bad now. And you'd not be frightened of me any +more?" added Moll sadly, looking up at her. + +"No, indeed; we'd be fond of you--wouldn't we, Beppo?" said Bryda +eagerly. + +Beppo nodded and said, "Yes, yes." He was proud of his knowledge of +English, such as it was. + +"No one's fond of me," said Moll, still more sadly. "Jim used to be +in a fashion, but he wouldn't give his little finger to save me from +drowning. An' I'm too wicked for father to love me--or any one else +either." + +Bryda's eyes filled with tears. "God loves you, Moll," she whispered +gently. + +But Moll shook her head. "No, He don't. God Almighty may care for +the gentlefolks--seems like it. But He don't care for such as us." + +"Indeed, He does," said Bryda earnestly, quite sure this time that +there was no doubt of what she said being true. "See how he has +cared for Beppo and his mother!" + +"Did He tell the old carpenter to be good to them?" asked Moll +thoughtfully. "Well, it's not much a poor man like him can do." + +"Oh! he's not a poor man," burst out Bryda. "He's a prince really; +he told me so. And his Father's a very great King, and will take him +to live in a palace some day soon." + +"And he have gold, much gold, hid safe from de tieves," added Beppo +in his broken English. He and Bryda were sitting on the bank now +beside Moll Dawson. + +"Eh!" said Moll; "whoever would have thought it." + +"It's quite true," said Bryda, and went on to tell all about Roger's +inheritance. She was just going on to tell all about his cat, and +the funny story of all the cats with excellent "characters," when +Uncle Jack's voice was heard in the blackberry field calling her. + +At this sound Moll Dawson sprang up, nodded a hasty farewell, and +scrambled through a small breach in the hedge behind, vanishing in a +moment, in spite of Bryda's entreaties to her to stay, and let Uncle +Jack hear how she had saved them. + +Uncle Jack's cheerful brown face grew very white when he heard the +story. + +"Say nothing to the grannies, Bryda," he said. "Not because it is +right to have secrets, little maid; but because grandmother is too +old and weak to hear about anything that would frighten her. But you +and I will see what we can do for Moll Dawson, and we will ask Cousin +Salome's advice, eh?" + +Poor Moll Dawson! She had done one good deed that day. It was a +pity that in the afternoon she should do, though not intentionally, +some sad harm. + +Her brother Jim worked as garden-boy with Mr. Seymour (that was the +name of Bryda's grandfather). Moll, roaming idly about, met him as +he came from work in the evening, and in her careless, gossiping way +began to tell him all that Bryda had said about old Roger's store of +treasure, which Moll said was money he had hidden away somewhere in +his poor little cottage, like a miser. + +For Bryda did not yet understand, what is perhaps plain to any one +reading this, that the old man, accustomed as he was to live alone, +thought so much of the heavenly country where he hoped to go, and of +the many mansions in the Father's house, that he talked of them in a +way that seemed to the child to mean things on earth. So the +precious treasure of the love of Christ, and of the hope that is in +Him, seemed to little Bryda to be perishing treasures of earth--money +and jewels. And what Bryda had told Moll, Moll repeated, with +improvements of her own, to her bad brother. + +"Ah! ah!" said Jim; "he's a chicken worth plucking--eh, Moll? A +knock on the old boy's head, if he objects, and then share and share +alike for you and me." + +"You leave him alone, Jim," she answered; for the longing to be +better was working in the poor girl's darkened mind, even as the +spirit of God rested on the earth when it was "without form and +void." Christ, who died for poor Moll, was calling gently, and the +hard heart softened a little. + +"Boo," said Jim, with a hideous grimace "You're afraid o' being found +out. Split on me and tell the police, will you? Yah, that's like a +woman." + +"I'll not have it, Jim," went on Moll steadily. "I'm not afraid, +that you know right well: I'm a better thief than you by a long way, +and never was caught yet; but I'll have naught to do with this--nor +you either." + +"We'll see," said Jim, and held his tongue. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MORE ABOUT BEPPO. + +Bryda was not allowed to go alone to the village again, since her +nurse had told granny she was missing on that unfortunate Sunday +afternoon, when the whole household had turned out in pursuit of her. +She had therefore promised Beppo to meet him in the church or +churchyard at half-past five, and take him to Cousin Salome. + +For the second time she found the poor little Italian in bitter +grief. It happened that a great dark bank of clouds had covered the +sky for a great part of the day, and the church inside was so dark +that the sexton thought it well to light up the building before the +short service, which was every evening during summer at six, and in +winter much earlier. + +Tonight the choir were practicing before service, so when Beppo came +to the church at half-past five, to meet his little friend, the +building was lighted up. He came to see his beautiful angel again to +tell her, whom he still thought a great and powerful friend, all that +had happened to him. But with the darkness outside and the bright +lights within, all the colors had faded out of the window, so that, +as any one who goes into a lighted church by night can see, there was +only a dark blank space where the beautiful angel had stood. And the +passionate little southern boy said to him self that his friend had +forsaken him, that she was gone and would never come back again. + +Bryda felt that somehow he was quite wrong, but how was she to +explain, or to comfort him? + +First she told him his angel was not gone, but had only faded from +his sight, and that with daylight he would find her again. But as at +this he only sobbed afresh, and said she _was_ gone, he could not see +her, so she must be gone, Bryda tried to explain that his friend was +no real person but only a beautiful picture. This only made him very +indignant; he knew angels took care of people, his mother had often +told him so; did Bryda mean to tell him there were no angels? + +Then Bryda, not knowing how to meet these questions, proposed that he +should come with her at once to Cousin Salome; and, hand in hand, the +two children went up the long shrubbery walk to find her. + +Salome greeted them with her own bright smile, and made Beppo sit on +a low stool by her side. Soon the black eyes grew very bright and +round, when the child found that this English lady had seen his own +beautiful Italy, and seemed to love it nearly as well as he did. + +Then, when Cousin Salome began to speak to him in Italian, Beppo +fairly jumped off his stool and clapped his hands with delight. + +Here was a friend for him! Until one has gone to a strange country +and there been very lonely and sorrowful, like poor little Beppo, it +is not easy to understand the delight that he felt at hearing his own +language spoken again. + +After a little time Bryda began to tell Cousin Salome all about +Beppo's troubles, and especially the last, which seemed to the poor +little boy a very great one. + +"No, Beppo, your beautiful angel is not gone," she answered, "she is +only hidden from you for a time by the darkness. But I will tell you +both, dear children, what this little grief of Beppo's is like; and +we can make it a sort of parable. Bryda, you know what a parable is?" + +"A story that means something, isn't it?" said Bryda. + +"Yes, dear. Well, when we are young, our life is like a bright +painted window, very lovely to look at. But supposing our sky gets +dark, and some great trouble comes up like the night----" + +"Something like your illness, cousin?" said Bryda gently. + +Cousin Salome smiled. + +"Yes, perhaps, dear. Or like Beppo's great trouble, when his mother +told him she must go and be with God, and leave him alone. That +makes life seem very dark, doesn't it, Beppo?" + +Beppo nodded his head; he could not speak, because a great lump came +up in his throat and made him feel as if he must choke. + +"Well, when the night is over," went on Salome, "and the kind, bright +sun comes back again, our life looks beautiful again. But what do +people do when the church gets dark, Beppo?" + +"Light de lamps," said Beppo quickly. + +"Ah, yes! that is it! Light the lamps, and then we forget all about +the darkness outside. Inside there is warmth and light and +brightness, and sweet hymns go up to the Great White Throne of God. +And life is beautiful after all, though it is a little more sad and +solemn, as Beppo feels it now." + +Then Cousin Salome went on to talk to Beppo in Italian about a Friend +who never would forsake him, and Who was always near, though the dim +eyes of men cannot see Him; of One far more lovely and loving than +the angels, who were only servants in that great House of the +Father's, in which heaven and and earth are contained. Only +servants; but He--this Friend Who was willing to be always Beppo's +friend, if the child would look to Him and trust Him--He was the Son +of the House, and all things were His. + +Bryda listened, though she could not understand the language; and as +she listened she thought she knew the use of lessons. + +"Lessons and doses," she had said, "were supposed to do people good;" +and now she saw, at all events, one use of lessons. "If I could talk +Italian to Beppo, how nice it would be!" + +And to herself she resolved that when the new governess came--it was +to be very soon now--she would work harder than ever before, even +over lists of dates. After all she might find out some day that +there was a use for those, too! + +Beppo listened as to one who told him some strange new thing. He had +been taught by his mother much about angels watching over him with +beautiful shining wings; but very little, almost nothing, about the +loving Saviour Who was once a little boy like himself, and Who grew +up to be the Friend and Helper of any one who was in distress, and to +Whom the little troubles of His little children were as important as +the great and bitter griefs that crush the hearts of men. + +Poor little boy! he drank in every word, with great eyes fixed on +Cousin Salome's face, and it seemed to him, as it had seemed to Bryda +while she listened to the vicar's sermon, that there never could be +anything half so sweet as trying to please this loving Lord Jesus, +Who was such a kind Friend. + +But the invalid began to grow tired, and Bryda saw that she could not +talk much longer. So she got up suddenly, and carried off Beppo, and +Cousin Salome was left to her needful rest. + +It was settled first of all, though, that Bryda should give Beppo +lessons in reading every day. + +"Reading and weeding!" said Uncle Jack. "I have made love to Hayes +the gardener, and he has promised to let Beppo come and weed in the +garden; and so the little chap can earn something, and not feel quite +such a burden on old Roger." + +Beppo's mother was not to be long a burden on any one. One night, +while Beppo slept, and while it seemed that she slept, too, old +Roger, stealing in on tiptoe, found that she was indeed asleep, +wrapped in that last long sleep which no evil dreams disturb. She +would never be hungry, or thirsty, or tired again, for God had taken +His child, who, though ignorant enough, had been faithful to Him, to +that rest of which we say, "He giveth His beloved sleep." + +Close by that grave, with the one word "Liz," they made another, and +on that there was only one word, too--"Speranza." + +[Illustration: Only one word, too--"Speranza."] + +Very few of the village people knew what Cousin Salome told Bryda, +that the beautiful name of the poor Italian meant "Hope." + +Old Roger would not part with Beppo. He was a lonesome old man, he +said, and it would be a charity to let the boy stay with him. Beppo +could weed and learn to read for the present, and as soon as he knew +the language better he could go to school in the village. Every one +was well pleased with the plan, for, though some of the village +people thought old Roger rather odd, from the way he had of talking +about heaven as if it were quite near, and of Bible people as if they +were still alive, yet no one doubted his goodness; and kind Cousin +Salome promised to pay for Beppo's schooling. So it seemed that the +poor little boy, after his long wanderings, would have a happy home +and kind friends, and would soon forget his troubles. Bryda was at +first very patient with her pupil, who, to do him justice, was not +stupid; but what puzzled her most was that it did not seem natural to +the Italian child to say the English words as she did. + +Uncle Jack, coming one day into the room where these lessons were +going on, found Beppo with tearful eyes, while Bryda appeared to have +at that moment thrown the reading-book to the other end of the room, +where it lay looking like a book in disgrace in the corner, gaping +wide open, with a leaf or two scattered on the way, for it was an old +one. + +[Illustration: Bryda appeared to have thrown the reading book to the +other end of the room.] + +"What is this noise about?" said Uncle Jack, with a face of +amusement; "what's the matter now?" + +"Beppo's _too_ stupid, Uncle Jack--and I--I lost patience." + +"Lost, a valuable temper," said Uncle Jack, with a serious face; "at +least I mean 'Lost, a good temper, of no value to any one but the +owner. Is very cheerful, and marked with a capital B. The finder, +if poor, shall be handsomely rewarded on bringing it to----' + +"_Don't_, Uncle Jack!" Bryda stood on tiptoe and put her hands over +his mouth, while Beppo picked up the book and put in the scattered +leaves. "But really I can't make him understand some things. He +spells c-a-t, and then calls it 'cart,' and when at last I get him to +say 'cat,' he goes on m-a-t, 'mart!' + +"I suppose Miss Quillnib never had any such worries in teaching +Bryda?" said Uncle Jack slyly. Bryda looked a little ashamed. + +"But do you know that it is natural to him to say cart and mart +instead of cat and mat, and you will have to teach him gradually that +English does not sound like Italian, Bryda? Now suppose, by way of +variety, that _you_ say this simple little sentence after me: + +"'Aldiborontiphoscophornio!--where left you Chrononhotonthologos?" +"'Aldiboronti'--I don't know any more!" + +"_That's_ not English, Uncle Jack!" + +"Well, I assure you it comes out of an English play. So, naturally, +the actor has to say it. Try something easier: + + "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper; + A peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked. + If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper, + Where's the peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked?" + + +"Which of us three will say that very fast three times without a +mistake?" + +They all tried, and all failed, and the lesson ended in such shouts +of laughter that both the grannies hobbled in--helping each other--to +see what the fun was. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +BEPPO IN TROUBLE. + +A far worse trouble than "cat" or "mat" came to poor Beppo a few days +afterward. He worked away diligently and steadily in the garden and +was always delighted to bring home his little earnings--six silver +shillings every week--and give them to old Roger. Hayes, the +gardener, was kind to him, and so was every one, except Jim Dawson, +who also worked in the garden. + +But then, Jim Dawson was kind to no one, not even to his sister Moll, +for whom he seemed to have a sort of rough affection. Still, Jim +Dawson did his work well enough; he was very strong and got through a +good deal, if he _did_ idle sometimes when Hayes' back was turned. +So Hayes was glad to have him. + +Now Hayes had a peach tree of which he was particularly proud. It +was like his child to him, for he had grown it from a very little +thing, and had watched it day by day in the spring, when its +beautiful pink buds became pinky-white flowers, and then dropped, and +gave way to little hard balls, green and round, that would one day be +peaches. He had taken off some of these, so that the rest might be +finer, and now there were just four beautiful velvet peaches on the +little tree. Such beauties they were! and soon would come the +fruit-show; and how delightful it would be to see in the county paper +that "Mr. Hayes, head-gardener to Mr. Seymour, had the first prize +for a splendid dish of peaches grown out of doors!" + +Every morning and every evening, and several times in the day, came +Mr. Hayes looking after those treasures of his. + +Can you fancy what Mr. Hayes' good-tempered face looked like when one +day, about twelve o'clock, he came past, having already paid "his +babies" a visit once that morning and found only three? Only three! +The finest of all was gone; neatly gathered from the tree; so that +there could be no suspicion of accident in the matter. It was too +bad. + +Stooping down, Mr. Hayes carefully examined the ground to see if +there were any traces of footsteps by which he could discover the +thief. + +In one or two places the ground looked a little disturbed, as if some +one had hastily covered over the traces of steps with some loose +earth. Certainly a cunning thief had been at work, and Mr. Hayes' +rage grew more and more violent; but his rage was quite useless. +Storm at the two boys, Jim and Beppo, he could, and he did; question +all the other gardeners, and the grooms, and John the coachman, and +the kitchenmaid, and the laundrymaid, and the girl who fed and +plucked the fowls; all this he did, but nothing could bring back his +peach, and every one seemed equally innocent in the matter. Mr. +Hayes was very angry, and for two days he remained so, spending much +of his time in walking about that part of the garden, with his sharp +eyes very wide open, and a thick stick in his strong hand. + +Woe betide the unlucky thief who had gone near the peach tree on +those days! + +But by the third day Mr. Hayes' wrath had cooled a little; besides, +he had very good news from a brother in Australia by the morning +post; and so on that day he took a look at the three peaches that +were left, and then went away whistling "Rule Britannia!" It was +about the only tune he knew, and he whistled it whenever things went +well. + +It was a pity that a dark cloud should come up again that day over +the sunny landscape of Mr. Hayes' broad red face; but it is a fact +that, on coming again to visit his darlings, he found no longer +three, but only two; and under the brick wall were again traces of +steps carefully dusted over with earth, as before. + +If Mr. Hayes had been angry before, he was now simply beside himself +with passion. He did not storm, neither did he stamp this time--he +was too angry for that. + +Striding along the garden walk, without any distinct idea of where he +meant to go or what to do, Mr. Hayes encountered Beppo, who rose up +from his weeding, and looked as if he were about to speak. But the +child shrank from the furious face that looked down at him--shrank +away, and grew pale with fear. + +Hayes looked at him steadily for a moment, then spoke fiercely, +though quietly, trying to control himself. "Well, boy, what have you +to say for yourself?" + +Guilt was clearly painted on Beppo's face, and in every line of his +trembling figure as he stammered out. "P'ease--Mr. Haye--I--so +sorry. Not--mean--do it, sir! + +"Not mean!" answered Hayes in a voice like suppressed thunder. +"Sorry! what can your sorrow do, I'd like to know? Do you know what +you have done? mischief that can never be mended!" + +"Yes, sir," said Beppo humbly. + +"Yes, sir! No excuse! You little foreign brat! you come along o' +me, and get the best thrashing you ever had. Come on, I say!" + +He seized Beppo by the collar, and marching him in front, strode +toward the garden tool-house. There were plenty of sticks there that +would answer his purpose of severely punishing the wretched little +criminal, whose cries, moreover, would attract less notice there, he +thought. + +Coming toward them, the angry man and his prisoner met Bryda, singing +merrily. + +Her song soon stopped when she saw the poor little criminal in the +strong grasp of Mr. Hayes who was policeman, judge, jury, lawyers, +jailer, and executioner, all at once. + +"What _is_ the matter? What has he done?" she gasped, quite +frightened. + +Hayes stopped. + +"Done! The little varmint!" giving Beppo a shake as he held him +still. "Done, Miss Bryda! Will he dare look you in the face again? +Stolen my peaches, two of them, one after the other--heartless, +greedy, thankless little monster as he is! Stolen my peaches that I +hoped would get the prize--ay, he can't deny it!" + +"I not stolen them!" cried Beppo, in bitter distress. "Oh, Miss +Bryde! I not--I never done _that_! I often bad boy--never stole! +Never! No! No! No!" + +Bryda remembered the baker's roll, and quite believed him. He was +hungry then, but he did not steal. + +"Oh, Hayes! Indeed, indeed, I am sure he is telling the truth!" she +said earnestly. "Please don't be angry with him till you are quite +sure, at least." + +"Lor', Miss Bryda," said the gardener impatiently, "you're that taken +up with the sly little rascal you don't believe butter would melt in +his mouth. But he spoke up and said he was sorry when I taxed him +with it first. It's only the sight of you makes him bold, thinking +you'll take his part through thick and thin. A sneaking, lying +little thief! Never does he do another day's work here!" + +"Miss Bryde," said Beppo, with flashing eyes in which there were no +tears, "I not--I never did--not could--think I--steal--tell lies! I +speak de truth now, and then, both, only I did think Mr. Hayes found +something else, and I did want tell him----" + +Here Jim Dawson, who had been looking on at the little scene, stepped +up to Beppo suddenly, slipped his hand into Beppo's pocket, and drew +out a peach-stone. + +Silence fell on the little group. Bryda, distressed beyond words, +looked from one to the other. Beppo, with a strange expression of +face, looked at Jim, who stood grinning; and Hayes, after looking at +the stone for some seconds, as if to be perfectly certain of Beppo's +crime, pushed his hand more firmly into the boy's collar, strode to +the garden-house, put him in, and said, before he closed the door, +"Now, my lad, it's for your good. You bide there and think of the +flogging you'll get so soon as I've time to give it to you." + +Locking the door on the outside, he strode away, with the key in his +pocket, leaving Beppo to his miserable expectations of the flogging +that he would get; no light punishment it would be from the heavy +hand of an angry man. + +If Beppo was guilty, then miserable enough he was likely to be, with +the burdens of a theft and a lie on his mind, and the prospect of +punishment to come. + +If, as he said, though appearances were against him, he was innocent, +then he need not be very miserable, for a good conscience would be +his companion, and the Friend of little children would send him +comfort. + +Crouching down in a wretched little heap on the floor, he remained so +for some time, not crying, not trembling, but apparently thinking. +Then slowly rising, he knelt down in a corner, and, clasping his +hands, looked through the little window up to the blue sky. + +He need not look to any beautiful angel now, whose help he used to +hope for. He had another--better Friend, and quietly he said, half +aloud, "Kind Lord Jesus, don't forget Beppo. I in great trouble, +Lord Jesus!" + +Was he guilty, or not? We shall see. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +UP A TREE. + +What did Bryda do when her little playmate was in such trouble? +Quite as miserable as if she herself were the criminal, she stood +still for a few minutes in the garden path. Would there be any +chance of coaxing Hayes to forgive Beppo? That was not very likely. +Mr. Hayes, with a face that was simply one frown all over, had walked +off in the other direction, and his very back frowned as she looked +after him. No, she could not appease Hayes; but some one else might +persuade him that Beppo was not guilty. Who could do this? Should +Bryda go indoors and tell the grannies all about it? That would not +be of much use. It would take so long to make them understand; and +perhaps even then they would not wish to interfere. Uncle Jack? He +had gone out. Cousin Salome would be very sorry; but she could not +come out and talk to Hayes. + +There was old Roger! + +Bryda would run off to him and soon get him to come up with her and +talk to the angry Hayes. But she must be quick; she did not know how +soon Hayes might carry out his threat of coming back to punish the +poor little prisoner. + +Bryda firmly believed he was innocent. She did not understand why +Mr. Hayes said he had confessed to having stolen the peaches; if he +had done so she was sure it was from fright. + +"And I am sure Hayes' face was enough to frighten any one," she said +to herself. + +Without stopping to think any more, off Bryda ran to the village, as +fast as her feet could carry her. + +She did not go by the shrubbery walk, but down the lane that led from +the bottom of the garden past Farmer Veitch's house. + +This farm was about halfway between the garden and the village, and +Bryda, out of breath, walked slowly as she passed it. To her great +terror she heard behind the hedge a low, deep growl. That was Farmer +Veitch's bulldog, and he was known to be savage. + +[Illustration: (Beppo praying)] + +Poor Bryda was not as brave as she used to be, since her adventure +with the bull, and this low growl made her start violently. Well, if +the gate was only shut the bulldog might growl on till to-morrow +behind it, and she would be quite safe. + +But no, the gate was open just a little way--quite enough to let a +bulldog through--even a pretty big one, as this was; and in another +moment the animal was at Bryda's heels, sniffing at her, and still +growling in a horrid, savage way that was worse than a torrent of +barks, and showing those white teeth of his that could give such +dreadful bites. + +Poor Bryda's courage quite gave way. To run was no use, the dog +could run faster. Screaming would no doubt make him bite her at +once, instead of taking his time about it. It was as bad as the +adventure with Paddy; and what made it worse was that Bryda was +strictly forbidden to go into this lane at all, because there had +been some infectious illness at Farmer Veitch's. A bull_dog_ seemed +as bad as a bull. + +Should she try the power of the human eye? She had heard various +stories of people who had subdued savage dogs by simply gazing at +them fixedly till the brute nature quailed before the human intellect. + +But that must require wonderful courage; and probably it would not +answer at all if the gazer were to look at all afraid. And poor +little Bryda was simply terrified. + +At this moment she caught sight of a tree close to her that had low +branches, most convenient for climbing. Dogs cannot climb trees, and +the cats know it--just as cats cannot fly, and the birds know it, and +act accordingly. + +In another moment, with a breathless spring and scramble Bryda was up +in the tree. The dog sprang at her, and tore a large piece of her +frock, but she was unhurt; and you may suppose she felt glad that +there was only a bit of stuff in the sharp white teeth instead of a +bit of herself! + +She lost a shoe, too, in the scramble; and the dog scratched it and +snuffed at it. Breathless, torn as to garments, with one shoeless +foot, she climbed up a little higher, so as to be quite safe, and +looked down at the dog. + +Of course he would go away now there was no chance of biting her. +And then she would jump down and run for her life to the village. +From her secure height she grew bold, and spoke valiantly to the dog. + +"Poor fellow! good dog, then! Go home, sir! Go to kennel! Home, +sir!" + +The dog only growled the more, but did not go away at all. He did +not seem to care to go home. Well, then, perhaps he would like to +hunt cats, after the cruel fashion of dogs? + +"Hunt!" went on Bryda. "Good boy! Cats! Puss, puss! Cats! After +them! catch them, good dog!" + +But this bulldog was a strange animal. He did not seem to care for +cats; but curled himself round at the foot of the tree, and kept his +eye on Bryda, who was really almost as much a prisoner as Beppo. + +Really, this was dreadful--when Bryda was in such a hurry, too! +Perhaps she would not be in time to save Beppo. Where were all the +people of the farm? She would call loudly to them: "Mrs. Veitch! +Farmer!" + +Directly she began to call, the dog jumped up barking, and sprang at +her. True, he could not quite reach her, but he came dreadfully +close, and his barks were enough to drown her calling. + +By and by, however, the farmhouse door opened, and an old woman +looked out. She was the only person near, for it was harvest, and +all the men were busy, and all the women binding sheaves with them. +Her dim eyes caught sight of a figure in the tree, and when Bryda +called again to her she laughed and shook her fist. + +[Illustration: Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook +her fist.] + +"Ay, ay!" she said. "Young thieves from the village arter farmer's +apples! Well, you bide there a bit, it'll gie ye something to +remember." + +So saying, and laughing to herself over this capital punishment for +apple-stealers, she went back into the house and shut the door. + +So there was Bryda, like Mahomet's coffin, hung between the sky and +earth; and there she sat, feeling very angry with the old woman, very +much vexed about Beppo, and very much afraid of the dog. + +That amiable animal made himself a sentinel, and declined to move. +No scolding, no coaxing on Bryda's part, had any effect. There he +was and there he meant to be; and Bryda sat on a branch, swinging her +long black legs, and wishing she had wings, so that she might fly +away from all her present troubles. + +She might have been rather amused but for two things that much +distressed her. One was Beppo's peril, and the other the knowledge +that the grannies would be vexed at her being in the lane at all, +when she had for such a good reason been forbidden to go there. + +At last she felt so downhearted that she was very much inclined to +cry, but that she would not do, because the horrible dog would see +her, and probably he would feel pleased. So there she remained. + +"I wonder where Bryda is?" said grandmother. She had been waiting +ever so long for her knitting, for which she had sent her +granddaughter to the garden. + +"I hope she is not in mischief," said Mr. Seymour. + +"Most likely she forgot," said Uncle Jack, who had come in again. "I +will go to the garden and look for the little puss." + +In the garden he did not see Hayes, but met Jim Dawson, and asked if +he had seen Miss Bryda. Jim told him that she had gone down the +lane, and off he went in pursuit. + +You may suppose Bryda was glad to hear his firm steps on the hard +ground, and to call to him as he came down the lane without fear of +his going off and leaving her. + +But Uncle Jack, though he sent the dog off and helped her down, +suppressed any inclination he may have had to laugh, and asked for +grandmother's knitting very gravely. Nor did he seem to think that +Beppo's threatened punishment justified her disobedience. + +"If he stole the fruit he deserved to be punished, and you ought not +to try and screen him, Bryda. You may be sure Hayes would be careful +not to punish him else. He has boys of his own." + +So Bryda, very downhearted, walked by his side back to the house. He +would not interfere, nor let her go on to Roger, and all she could do +was to fetch the knitting, and hope the grannies would forgive her +disobedience. + +Perhaps the reason why Bryda, with the best intentions, got into +trouble when she least expected, was because she did not stop to +think, but went off in a great hurry to carry out her plans. + +By the time she reached the garden, three quarters of an hour, or +perhaps an hour, had passed. She went straight to the tool-house. +Beppo was not there. She called, and no one answered; the gardeners +had gone to their dinner, so Bryda, rather slowly and sadly, went in +to get ready for her own. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +POOR MOLL! + +While Bryda was running wildly down the lane Cousin Salome had a very +unusual sort of visitor. An untidy girl, who had taken more time to +put ribbons in her hair than to brush it, and whose necklace of glass +beads matched ill with her unmended frock, stood by the couch of the +gentle invalid. It had taken a long while for Moll Dawson to gather +courage to come up to the house, though Cousin Salome had sent many +messages by her maid; but here she was at last, looking +half-impudent, half-bashful, and altogether uncomfortable, till +Cousin Salome gradually melted her shyness by talking about the +adventure of the bull, and about Bryda, and Beppo, and various other +things. Then gently she began to talk about the girl's own past +life, and again Moll spoke in the hard, defiant voice, which told how +truly unhappy she was. + +"Did you ever go to church?" asked Cousin Salome. + +"Yes, I went into a church once," said Moll thoughtfully, "'an' I +heard a preachin', and the parson talked about children of wrath, and +the bad place waiting for 'em." + +[Illustration: (Bryda running wildly down the lane)] + +"Oh, yes, I can read and write after a fashion," she went on, in +answer to Cousin Salome's questions. "I went to school only +half-time, and worked in the factory the other, so as not to have too +much school." + +And Moll drew herself up, and laughed and showed her white teeth, and +was, to all appearance, quite proud of being so naughty. But all the +same she gave a little sigh as she looked again at the invalid's +white, sweet face, and pitying eyes. + +"I reckon you've always been good," she went on rapidly. "It isn't +hard for the likes of you neither." + +She looked round the white, quiet room, and Cousin Salome looked, +too, and she sighed a moment before she smiled again with a happier +thought. Ah, there were temptations in that still, comfortable room, +too. Evil spirits would enter even there, and whisper discontent, +and fretfulness, and impatience to the sufferer who had lain there so +long; but Salome smiled again, because she knew that the promise was +for her and for poor Moll, "When thou passest through the waters I am +with thee." + +And in her gentle, low-toned voice she began to tell the poor +ignorant girl of that good Shepherd who gave his life for the sheep. + +"Even for me!" said Moll, at last, and buried her face in her hands +and sobbed. It seemed too good to be true. + +[Illustration: (Moll crying at Salome's bedside)] + +Cousin Salome's maid, hearing the sobs, came from the next room, +fearing that the invalid would be over-tired; and, by way of making a +change of conversation, began to tell how she had been in the garden, +of Hayes' wrath; and Beppo's punishment. + +"And no wonder he should turn out badly, ma'am," she said; "they +tramping foreigners aren't likely to come to good. Let him go to the +Union, I say." + +Moll Dawson had listened attentively. Now she rose, put on her +crushed hat, and smoothed its showy but shabby red feather. + +"I'll come again--may I, miss?" she said. "It's like going to heaven +to come in here." + +Salome gave her a ready welcome, and Moll's heavy step became a +careful tiptoe walk as she crossed the room. + +Once outside the house, however, Moll walked fast enough to the +garden, and there went all round the walks till she found Mr. Hayes. +He had finished his round of the vineries, and was going to the +tool-house, to carry out his threat to Beppo, when this wild looking +girl met him. + +"Mr. Hayes," she said, "you let that foreign boy go, will you? He +never took your peaches, no more nor you did yourself." + +"Oh!" said Hayes, looking at her with no pleased eyes, as she spoke +thus boldly; "perhaps you know who did take them, if you're so sure +it wasn't Beppo?" + +"Perhaps I do!" retorted Moll coolly; "anyhow, you'll not flog a boy +as hasn't done anything, I suppose?" + +"Unless I know who was the thief I shall suppose it was Beppo," +replied Hayes sulkily. "Why, he owned it himself; but if you can +prove some one else did it, and that the stone came into his pocket +quite by accident, why, then, of course, I shall believe you, Moll +Dawson." + +He spoke in tones of utter contempt; indeed, poor Moll was not often +treated with much respect. + +She stood still a moment, with her eyes cast down; then, as Hayes +began to move, with a great effort she said, "Well, there, then, I +took them; will that satisfy you?" + +"You did?" said Hayes, scowling at her. "I fancy you are telling +lies, Moll Dawson; they come easier to you than the truth, I know." + +Moll colored crimson, but did not answer. + +"I suppose you put the stone into Beppo's pocket so as he should be +accused," went on Hayes, looking searchingly at her. + +Moll nodded in silence. + +"I don't know who to believe, or what to to believe," he answered; "I +_know_ somebody's telling lies, and perhaps it's both of you. +Anyhow----" + +Here he walked off to the tool-house and unlocked the door. + +"Come out!" he said roughly. And Beppo came looking quite collected +now. + +"Look here, young un," said Hayes in a very much softened tone, "I've +boys of my own, and I'd be sorry to flog one of them if he didn't +deserve it. Just you look up at me now, and tell me the whole truth." + +Beppo looked up in the gardener's face, and his dark eyes were calm +and clear; he did not look like a criminal. + +His broken English was rather funny, but Hayes soon understood that +he had in truth done a small piece of mischief. His foot slipped as +he was working, and he fell against a melon-frame and broke a pane of +glass. A cut on one finger showed that he spoke the truth. As to +the peaches, he would rather starve than touch one of them. "And I +very sorry for you, Mr. Hayes," he added. + +Hayes was quite touched. + +"Go home and get your dinner. I quite believe you, my boy," he said. +"Stay, come in and have a bit of dinner with my wife and young folks." + +Beppo went, and from that day forward had a steady friend in Hayes. + +"As for you, Moll Dawson," said the gardener sharply, "you get along +out of this. And if ever I catch you anywhere near the garden again +you'll go before the magistrate, as sure as my name's Hayes." + +Moll turned away without a word, and went slowly back to the village. + +Light was coming slowly to her dark mind as the dawn comes on a +troubled sea. She had told a lie to Hayes--for what reason we shall +see; but she did not understand yet that it was a sin. "A white +lie," she called it, a lie told for a good purpose. Thinking over +all that Cousin Salome had said to her, she went slowly home and +sought her brother Jim. Close to the house she met him. + +"Jim," she said, "I've told a lie to save you to-day; now you do +something for me." + +"All right, old girl," said Jim, indifferently; "one lie more or less +don't matter much, I reckon. What do you want out of me?" + +"I said _I_ stole the peaches, instead of you," said Moll, going on +with her story. + +"My stars!" cried Jim. "What a go! I wonder old Hayes didn't half +murder you! What did he say?" + +"Never you mind," said Moll. "I've got you out of a hole, and that's +enough for you. Now you do something for me--tit for tat, Jim." + +"What's up now?" asked her brother, struck by a gentleness in her +tone which was quite new. + +"Leave yon old carpenter and his coin alone," said she. "Look here, +Jim, I never asked you to leave a good job like that for me before, +but do you give up robbing him, there's a good lad." + +"Why, whatever has come to the girl? And you the first to put it in +my head to get in at night, and make the old chap show where he keeps +those miserly savings o' his you say he hides in his house!" + +"Do you let him alone, Jim," entreated Moll. "I know you and Harry +Crowther mean to get in to-morrow night, and no one'll hinder, for +the old man's house stands a bit away. I'll not help in the job, +Jim, and if you give up too----" + +"What will you give me?" sneered Jim. "Make it worth my while, Moll, +and I might think of it." + +"How can I?" said Moll. "Give it up, Jim. Suppose you got caught?" + +"You mean to round on me!" said Jim savagely, seizing her arm as he +spoke, and crushing it in his strong fingers till Moll had to set her +teeth not to scream aloud. "You want to get your brother a nice +pleasant time in jail! You're a nice loving sister, you are! Now, +look you here, Moll; you do that, and I'll break every bone in your +body as soon as ever I get out again." + +"I'm not _quite_ so mean," answered Moll; "I never would get you into +trouble, Jim, and that you know as well as I do. But I'll do my best +to get you and Harry Crowther, too, to let an old man alone. What's +to be done with yon little dark-eyed chap, him they call Beppo, or +some such outlandish name, if you get all the old man's savings? +Precious little you care who starves so long as you get all you want. +Come now, do this one thing for me, like a good lad, Jim," she went +on, with a rough effort at coaxing him. + +But Jim only told her to mind her own business. So Moll went away +and left him. + +All the rest of the day she kept wondering how this robbery could be +prevented, and at last, as the evening closed in, an idea struck her. +If no inducement could prevail on Jim, she had this plan to fall back +on. + +She would not "round on" Jim; that is, she would tell no tales. She +would not tell tales, or give warning to his intended victims, but +she had an idea of her own. Whether she was able to carry it out +with success we shall see. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +"WHERE THIEVES BREAK THROUGH." + +Two or three nights after this, Roger and Beppo--who was now as happy +as possible--had gone to bed quietly as usual, and had both fallen +asleep, when Beppo awoke with a start, and sat up in bed. He did not +know at first why he had awakened so suddenly, and he could hear, by +the old carpenter's quiet and regular breathing, that he still slept. +But Roger was a little deaf, and the noise that woke Beppo was not +loud enough to rouse him. It was, indeed, not meant to rouse +anybody, for, as Beppo was falling to sleep again, he heard it once +more, and this time sat up in bed and strained his ears to catch the +sound. + +There could be no doubt about it: stealthy footsteps were moving +outside; whispering voices speaking close to the house; then the +latch was lifted very gently, and let down with a little click. Poor +Beppo, sitting up in bed, felt his heart beat so loud that he fancied +the people outside must hear it, although the room in which he slept +was divided from the kitchen into which thieves were trying to break. + +For a moment he sat overcome by terror, but it was only for a moment. +Quietly and quickly he stole out of bed, and proceeded to dress +himself as noiselessly as possible. He would creep out of another +window--the window of the bedroom--without disturbing Roger! And in +order to delay the thieves, in case they should get into the kitchen +before he could bring help, he bolted the bedroom door on the inside. +Then, not waiting for shoes or stockings, he gently opened the +casement window, and began to try and wriggle through. + +It was no easy matter, especially as the window was very small, and +he dared not make a sound. The house stood so much apart that he +felt it would be useless to call aloud for help; it was probable no +one would hear him except the thieves, who would not give him time +for more than one shout. All the neighbors would be sleeping the +sound sleep of working men and women, and the only chance of rousing +them would be to hammer on their doors and rattle their windows till +they woke. A policeman would take longer to find. Beppo's hasty +plan was to run for the nearest neighbors--John Broome, the +blacksmith, and Alick Thornicroft, the shepherd. + +With much difficulty he was squeezing through the tiny window, when, +in the faint starlight--for the night was very dark, except for the +pale rays of a few stars shining between spaces in the clouds--he +caught sight of a most extraordinary object. The window of the +bedroom through which he was wriggling was at the side of the house, +and he could hear the thieves working away with some tools to force +open the front window. Suddenly the slight noise they were making +ceased, and it seemed as if they too were looking at the very strange +figure that now appeared in sight. + +Slowly it came out of the shade of some dark, thick trees; a very +tall, straight figure, with one arm extended, pointing to the place +where the housebreakers stood. + +Beppo, half out of the window, gazed, horror-stricken, at this +object, which, with the superstition of his country, he felt sure was +an evil spirit, come to terrify, or perhaps to carry off, the +evildoers. They seemed frightened too, for as the figure very slowly +moved along, not, however, coming near as yet, Beppo heard them +whispering to each other. + +"Let's go home; I don't like the look of that--that thing!" + +"Who's afraid?" sneered the other voice. + +"Hush! it's speaking," said the first. + +"Jim Dawson," said a low, deep tone that seemed to come from the +figure, "I know you!" + +"Come away, Jim," whispered one of the thieves. "I'm off." + +"Stop, Harry Crowther!" said the figure. + +"Harry, you simpleton, come back!" cried Jim Dawson in the same low, +cautious tone in which he had all along spoken. "Look here, lad." + +As he spoke he stooped and picked up a heavy and rather sharp stone, +which with his whole strength he flung at the figure that stood, +still pointing at him, only a few yards off. + +When the stone struck the figure, it fell with a deep groan to the +earth; and it lay in a confused heap, motionless. + +"Well done, Jim!" said Harry Crowther; and the worthy couple went to +work again on the window frame. + +Beppo delayed no longer, but got quietly out of the window, dropped +carefully to the ground, stole away till he reached a dark shadow, +avoiding the spot where the heap lay, and then was off like the wind, +down the lane, and up the blacksmith's garden path. + +Meantime, the burglars easily made for themselves an entrance through +the window, and went searching the kitchen, poking into every nook +and corner to find the old carpenter's hidden riches. + +"This is no go!" said Crowther at last, finding absolutely nothing +but a very old silver watch, which he promptly pocketed. "We must +wake the old boy, and ask him where the 'swag' is." + +"Right, mate! Misers always have some queer hole of their own to put +their tin in," answered Jim, still hunting about the kitchen. + +The sound of a saucepan falling, which Jim's clumsy hands let go, +woke old Roger, who, seeing a light in the kitchen, suddenly appeared +in the doorway with an old coat hastily thrown over his shoulders. + +"Look! he's saved us the trouble," said one of them. + +"Ah!" growled the other. "He'll know us now, and we'll be had up for +this." + +Jim Dawson seized the poker, and, advancing to the old man, +brandished it above his head. + +"Now, look here, old Roger," he said, "we want your money, but we +don't want your life--that's no use to us. Now, just give us up +those savings, quiet and peaceable, and off we go, if you promise +first to hold that tongue of yours." + +"Old miser!" went on Harry Crowther, "where do you keep all your +gold? Out with it!" + +"I have no gold, my lad," answered old Roger. His voice trembled a +little; it may have been from cold, or from fear, or both. + +"That's a lie!" cried Jim. "Who told little miss at the house up +here about all the treasure he kept hid away? Come now, out with it +quietly, before I make you." + +"Ah! I understand," said old Roger quietly. "There's plenty of +_that_ treasure for thee, my lad, enough and to spare. It's all in +here--all in here." + +He tottered slowly across the floor--such a feeble old man he +seemed!--till he reached his little workshop on the opposite side of +the kitchen. Into this room the thieves followed him, with eyes full +of greedy expectation. Roger went up to a little table, and took +therefrom an old book in strong, plain binding, that seemed to have +been much used. + +There were probably banknotes hidden between the pages, thought the +burglars, and Jim Dawson snatched it from his hand roughly. + +"It's all there, 'where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where +thieves do not break through nor steal,'" repeated Old Roger. + +Jim Dawson rapidly searched the book, holding it upside down, that +anything loose might fall out, and examining the cover, to see if +there were any secret place. But it was only an old Bible, and with +a yell he sprang at the defenseless old man, and would have injured +him seriously, had it not been at this moment there came a sound of +the door opening, and footsteps in the kitchen. + +Beppo had come with the blacksmith and the shepherd, and a sturdy +young farmer whom he had met on the way back. + +The thieves were caught in a trap. Beppo, creeping quietly through +the larger window, had let in these kind friends; and before Jim +Dawson and his bad companion could think of escape they were seized +by strong hands and held fast. + +A policeman was soon brought, and as they and their captors were +leaving the house they passed that queer heap. + +"What's this?" said Thornicroft; "some one been following you?" + +"Some one who tried to frighten me," said Jim Dawson sullenly; "so I +up with a stone." + +"And killed your own sister," said the blacksmith, raising the figure +gently. + +It was indeed poor Moll; but she was not dead, only stunned and +senseless. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"FRIEND, GO UP HIGHER!" + +There came at last, next day, a governess for Bryda; and she, +remembering Miss Quillnib, the only teacher she had ever had, except +mother, expected an elderly lady with prim dress and iron-gray curls. +But it is hard to say if she was most surprised or pleased to see a +bright-faced young girl who could not be more than twenty-one or +twenty-two, who was nicely dressed, and looked as if she could enjoy +amusing things quite as well as Miss Bryda herself. + +Bryda put her through a short catechism when her shyness had worn off +a little, which was by the time that she and the governess had +settled down to tea in the cosy schoolroom. + +"Miss Mervyn, do you like jam?" she asked, so very gravely that the +young lady burst into an extremely merry laugh. + +"Very much," she said, trying to be as grave as her pupil; +"especially raspberry! We used to call that 'real jam,' at my home." + +"Did you?" said Bryda. "But do you like lessons better than play?" + +"Certainly not!" said Miss Mervyn. "Only the play would get very +stupid if it went on every day, all day long. So I like some +lessons, too. How should you like to live on jam without any bread, +Bryda?" + +"Not at all." + +"Well, I think the working part of the day is the bread to make the +play seem nice. How would a cake be that was only currants and +sugar?" + +Bryda laughed, and then she grew solemn again. "But I _don't_ like +dates," she said. + +[Illustration: Bryda laughed, and then grew solemn.] + +"No more do I," answered Miss Mervyn. "That is, I don't like too +many at once. But I suppose you never remember your birthday, Bryda?" + +"Twenty-first of June!" said the pupil promptly. "But then I know +all about that, and it's a very nice sort of day!" + +"Well, if I were to give you a packet of sweeties every year on the +day of the battle of Waterloo, would it be easy to remember?" + +"It might," answered Breda. + +"Then let us try to divide the day between lessons and play, so that +we may have the proper quantities of bread and jam? Shall we, dear?" + +"Yes, that will be nice! And, oh! Miss Mervyn," burst out Bryda, +"will you sometimes come and see old Roger?" She had thought of +little else all day. + +"Who is old Roger?" asked Miss Mervyn. + +Bryda poured out all the story of Roger and of Beppo, and of her +first adventure in the Dawsons' cottage, and of all that had happened +since. + +The story lasted till there came a knock at the door, and Uncle Jack +entered. + +"Well, Uncle Jack! what have they done to Jim Dawson?" cried Bryda. + +"Jim has been sent to prison," answered Uncle Jack; "when his time of +punishment is over we will see what can be done for him. And Moll is +not dead, Bryda; that is what I came up to tell you--that and +something else. Moll will recover, and when she leaves the infirmary +Cousin Salome has a little plan for her, which will take her away +among kind people, who will teach her and help her to be good." + +"What was the something else, Uncle Jack?" + +"The something else was that old Roger would like to see you +to-morrow morning, if Miss Mervyn will be good enough to take you +there, as early as possible," he said. "Roger is going to his +palace, Bryda, and he may start to-morrow, so he would like to say +good-by." + +"How nice for Roger," said Bryda. "Aren't you glad he is going, +Uncle Jack? You spoke quite sadly. I suppose you will miss old +Roger; I am sure I shall." + +"Yes, I am very glad," said Uncle Jack, in a voice that shook a +little. Evidently he would miss old Roger very much indeed. + +"Poor Liz!" said Bryda, as she went to bed, "I am so sorry she cannot +go too!" + +When Miss Mervyn and Bryda went down to Roger's cottage in the +morning, it seemed wonderfully quiet. There was no sound of the +carpenter's diligent work--all his tools were neatly laid aside. The +cottage looked as though it were Sunday. Roger was going home; he +would need his tools no more. + +Going into the inner room, they found old Roger in bed propped up +with pillows, while Beppo, crouched at the foot of the bed, kept his +big, dark eyes fixed, with a very sorrowful look, on the old man's +face. + +Then, and not till then, did Bryda suddenly understand what it all +meant; and with a little cry of "Oh, Roger, don't die!" she sprang to +the bedside. + +"Gently, dear," said Miss Mervyn following her. + +"Oh, I will be still!" sobbed Bryda; "but, oh, Roger, I _never_ +thought you meant dying, when you told me about your palace. And it +was because I did not understand, and told Moll Dawson about your +treasures, that all this has happened! Oh, it's my fault!" she +sobbed. + +"No, dear," said Miss Mervyn gently. "It is not your fault. But +next time things puzzle you, Bryda, ask some one to explain them." + +There was a smile as beautiful as the calm light of a summer's sunset +on the old man's face. How glad he seemed to be going Home! With +something of an effort he spoke: + +"They shall see the King in His beauty ... the land that is very far +off. In My Father's house ... many mansions ... a place for you ... +that means one for me too, Miss Bryda!" + +"And one for Liz," said Bryda quickly. + +"Ah! Liz will be able to show me round, she's been there for so long +... she'll teach me the ways o' the place, and the new song they sing +there. She was always a good singer, was Liz, and loved it." + +"For Beppo one place, too," said a little voice from the foot of the +bed. + +"One place for all the children of the King, if they have kept their +garments white," said Miss Mervyn. + +"Yes," went on Roger faintly, "where the Lord God giveth light... +Wipeth away all tears... One thing more... What is it?" His memory +seemed to fail, then again returned. + +"Yes, that's it... Not all rest and singing... His servants shall +serve Him ... work for old Roger ... work for Beppo ... for all, work +and rest. But there's something more ... something good----" + +His voice failed completely. + +"Yes, there is," said Miss Mervyn; "the best thing of all! 'They +shall see His Face!'" + +A smile of exquisite delight came over the old man's face. He spoke +no more, but lay back on his pillows, gazing before him and folding +his hands, as if already he had some foretaste of that wonderful +promise, given long ago to the pure in heart, "They shall see God!" + +And then, from utter weakness, he fell info a gentle sleep, like that +of a child, with that same smile on his face. + +Thus Miss Mervyn, and even Bryda and little Beppo, as they looked, +could understand how true are the words of the Apostle, "Every man +that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as He is pure." + +They would try to be of the number of those for whom the many +mansions are prepared; of those, like Roger, + + "The guileless in their way, + Who keep the ranks of battle, + Who mean the things they say." + + +They stood watching old Roger's sleep for a little while, and then +Miss Mervyn gently drew Bryda away; and Beppo and Mrs. Mears, the +kind parish nurse and Bible woman, were left to watch the sleeper. + +Before that day was ended old Roger had set out on his journey--had +gone to join Liz in the Palace of the King. + +The shock of Jim Dawson's attempted robbery, and a chill caught at +the same time, were more than Roger's enfeebled frame could stand. + +Cousin Salome wrote a little poem about him; but she said, and all +agreed with her, that the old man's life and death were a better +poem, written in God's book of history, where perhaps the names that +we think great and famous are not the most conspicuous. + +His body was laid beside that of Liz and Bryda gathered the freshest +flowers and made two wreaths every Sunday morning. + +And Beppo? A well-to-do farmer's wife, who had no child, offered to +adopt him, and make him quite like her own child. Cousin Salome was +not sure if the plan would work well, so she proposed that the boy +should go for a month at first. And he went; and at the end of the +month the farmer's wife declared that she must be allowed to keep +him, if only because he was such a capital advertisement of her good +milk and butter, since he had grown so much fatter and stronger. Now +and then he was allowed to come and spend the day with Bryda, for the +grannies said he was "a perfect little gentleman, who could do Bryda +no harm." + +Bryda had no more need to complain of being lonely, or of having +nothing to do. By the time that she had done her lessons diligently, +and played heartily with Miss Mervyn, who was very good at battledore +and shuttlecock and other capital games, and had found time to do +"something for someone else," in which Miss Mervyn was always ready +to help her, why the day was gone, and it was bedtime. That is the +great secret of not getting into scrapes, to have plenty to do, and +Uncle Jack was obliged to confess one day, when Bryda insisted on an +answer to her question, that he could no longer truthfully say that +she "lived in a jar of Mixed Pickles." + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79239 *** diff --git a/79239-h/79239-h.htm b/79239-h/79239-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e23e469 --- /dev/null +++ b/79239-h/79239-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8129 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mixed Pickles, by Mrs. E. M. Field +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center; font-size: 100% } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.contents {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight: normal; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center } + +img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</style> + +</head> + + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79239 ***</div> + + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="Timidly walking up to the door Bryda tapped gently.--Page 48."> +<br> +Timidly walking up to the door Bryda tapped gently.—<a href="#p048">Page 48</a>. +</p> + +<h1> +<br><br> + MIXED PICKLES.<br> +</h1> + +<p class="t3b"> + A STORY FOR GIRLS AND BOYS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> + By MRS. E. M. FIELD.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>WITH THIRTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS BY T. PYM.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + A. L. BURT COMPANY,<br> + PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> + CONTENTS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER I.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap01">Idle Hands</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER II.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap02">A Princess</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER III.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap03">Another Terrible Scrape</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER IV.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap04">What Can I Do?</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER V.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap05">Old Roger</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER VI.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap06">Uncle Jack's Story</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER VII.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap07">Beppo</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER VIII.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap08">The Rest of the Story</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER IX.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap09">A Prince in Disguise</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER X.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap10">Beppo's Friend</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XI.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap11">Dreadfully Frightened</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XII.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap12">Some Use for Moll</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XIII.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap13">More About Beppo</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XIV.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap14">Beppo in Trouble</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XV.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap15">Up a Tree</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XVI.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap16">Poor Moll</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XVII.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap17">Where Thieves Break Through</a><br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + CHAPTER XVIII.<br> +</p> + +<p class="contents"> + <a href="#chap18">Friend, Go Up Higher</a><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-010"> +"Pussy, Pussy! Come here, Puss." +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-028"> +Maurice Gray, with his queer little Scotch Terrier, Toby +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-036"> +Maurice fills the Syringe and sets to work +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-front"> +Timidly walking up to the door Bryda tapped gently +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-059"> +And where the water fell this Spring rose up +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-074"> +For a whole week there were Games +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-078"> +The Fairy came flying over the Town +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-086"> +"Little Boy," said Bryda shyly, "where do you live?" +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-088"> +"Our Father," Bryda prayed, "let me help Beppo." +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-093"> +Tom, who had now become a Poet +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-132"> +Bryda after looking around for Beppo, seized the Cat +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-136"> +Bryda and Beppo amuse themselves walking about the Field +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-159"> +Only one word, too—"Speranza." +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-160"> +Bryda appeared to have thrown the Reading Book to the other +end of the room +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-178"> +Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook her +fist +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-203"> +Bryda laughed, and then looked solemn +</a> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MIXED PICKLES. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER I. +<br><br> +IDLE HANDS. +</h2> + +<p> +Bryda was very lonely! Not because she +was alone, for she was rather fond of wandering +off by herself, away from every one else, and +talking to herself and to the birds and flowers, +and still more to any little stream that came in +her way. But then to be alone because you +fancy it, and to be alone because there is no +one to play with, are two very different things, +and the last was Bryda's case. +</p> + +<p> +"If I had even a kitten," she said aloud, +standing before the sundial in her +grandmother's old-fashioned garden, and looking at +the shadow that did not seem to move at all. +Bryda had read of King Hezekiah, for whom +the shadow moved backward; she wished it +would move a little forward for her, and bring +tea time, after which meal she might go and sit +by the couch of her invalid cousin, Salome, +who had soft fingers that rested soothingly on +her rumpled hair, and a soft low voice that told +pleasant stories pleasantly, and good long ones, +too. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-002"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-002.jpg" alt="(Bryda standing at the sundial)"> +</p> + +<p> +"If I had only a kitten!" +</p> + +<p> +Why, only yesterday, before Uncle Jack +went away and took all the brightness of the +house with him, he said he thought there were +kittens in a loft over the stable, and he would +try and catch one for Bryda. But he had gone +off on a shooting expedition, and would not be +home for days and days. And he did not +know how lonely Bryda was. +</p> + +<p> +You see her father and mother had gone +abroad a fortnight before this lonely day, and +had left her in charge of grandfather and +grandmother. They were very kind, but they were +so old, and so fond of going to sleep in their +chairs with very grave books before them, +always open at the same place, that Bryda +thought they looked more like two wax figures +from Madame Tussaud's—put, one on either +side of the fire in winter and of the big window +in summer—than like real people. +</p> + +<p> +They had lived so long, probably, that they +could not care much about anything. If you +told any striking piece of news to grandmother +she only said, "Say it again, my dear. I'm a +stupid old woman. Sit down beside me, speak +slowly, and always remember to wipe your +shoes on the mat." +</p> + +<p> +If you had just rushed in full of the great +news that the robin's blue eggs in that dear +little nest by the garden door were gone, and +four gaping, featherless darlings were there +instead, you felt that it was much worth while to +try and make grandmother enter into the +delight of the surprise. And when you had +told her, she would only say, "Very nice, my +dear; very charming, I'm sure. Now run out +again, and don't get freckled." After which she +would smooth down her heavy watered-silk +gown, and doze over the big grave book again. +</p> + +<p> +And grandfather was worse. He had long +white hair, and a very long white beard, and +bushy white eyebrows; so that there were only +two round spots on each cheek bone, and a very +narrow strip of forehead—unless you included +his nose—on which to kiss him, without burying +your face in white hair dusted with snuff. +For grandfather took a great deal of snuff, and if +you—that is, if Bryda—went to talk to him, +he would say, when he was awake enough to +listen, "Yes, yes, my dear, quite so, exactly so. +Give me a kiss, my dear; give me a kiss. I +want a bite from those cherries on your +cheeks." +</p> + +<p> +And then came the difficulty of kissing +grandfather (who did not like to be refused) +without kissing the white, snuff-scented beard, +which was only to be avoided by a sudden and +rapid peck at the two rosy circles on his cheeks, +or the little bits of forehead between the long +locks. +</p> + +<p> +When Bryda's mother went away her last +words were: +</p> + +<p> +"Be good to the grannies, my darling, and +do all they tell you; and don't forget father +and mother." +</p> + +<p> +Here the mother's voice trembled and broke, +and she got very quickly into the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +Forget! Oh, no, Bryda could not forget +And she tried "to be good to the grannies" by +kissing grandfather whenever he wished, much +as she disliked the operation, and trying to +remember all grandmother said about dry shoes, +and sitting in draughts, and eating slowly, and +putting on pinafores, and various other little +matters we are all familiar with. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack was quite different. We shall +hear more of him. But perhaps the house was +a little too quiet for him; he was so often +away. +</p> + +<p> +The dullness did not matter to Cousin Salome. +She lay in bed all the morning, and was carefully +wheeled into a little sunny sitting-room in +the afternoon; and there, when the pain was +not too bad (for she had hurt her back, and +would never be well again), she was always +ready to welcome Bryda with that quiet smile +on her white, loving face, that was like +moonlight on a sea that sings low and sadly on a +summer night. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack was away, and Cousin Salome +worse, and the governess who was to come and +teach Bryda had not arrived; and so, as we +have seen, Bryda was very lonely, and very +much in want of a kitten. She looked herself +rather like a kitten that has got wet, for a +kitten never looks so forlorn as she did unless +it is quite wet, and perhaps muddy too. +</p> + +<p> +But in two minutes after this bright idea had +struck her Bryda looked much like the same +kitten when it has been dried by a nice warm +fire, and fed on creamy milk, and has licked its +paws and washed its face, and is ready for the +next ball of wool that some one will be kind +enough to throw on the floor for it to play with. +</p> + +<p> +Gathering some ripe summer pears, and +hastily stuffing them into the pockets of her +pinafore, Bryda, hurried off to the stable. It +was locked, but the key was in the door; it +turned easily, and she found herself as she +entered rather near the heels of the fat old +carriage-horses, Gog and Magog. But they would +not kick; they were, or seemed, as old and +sleepy as their master and mistress. Gog in +particular would really rather be stung by a +horsefly than take any particular trouble about +brushing it away. They were not animals +suited to Bryda's taste, however much +grandmother might appreciate their steady ways, +They were like those horses of whom the little +girl in the poem could find nothing more +interesting to tell than that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "The tails of both hung down behind,<br> + Their shoes were on their feet."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +And John, the coachman, was as fat, and old, and +lazy as they were. Altogether the family coach, +when the dear old folks were in it, was quite a +curiosity. They went for a short drive every +day, one day along one of the roads outside the +lodge gates, and the next day along the other, +turn about, and always to the same distance, +which Uncle Jack called "going to +there-and-back-again." Only on Sunday they went to +church, which was a very short way indeed, +only just outside the gates in fact, and on that +day they did not sleep in the carriage as they +did on the other six days. +</p> + +<p> +But if Bryda was, as a treat, taken for a +drive, it really was a little dull. Both the +grannies went to sleep, and nodded so that poor +Bryda was really afraid their heads might come +off; and John the coachman looked as if he +were asleep, and Gog and Magog went along at +such a slow, solemn trot that they might well +be walking in their sleep, too. +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda was not much afraid that either of +these grave old horses would take the trouble +to kick her. But she had not the same +confidence in Uncle Jack's high-spirited hunter, +Paddy, who lived in a big stall with a bar at +the end, called a loose box, in which he could +walk about; and now he put his handsome +head with the white star on the forehead over +this bar, and looked at Bryda as much as to +say, "What business have you here?" +</p> + +<p> +Next to Paddy's loose box there was a ladder, +which went up through a hole in the ceiling +into the loft where hay was kept, and where +Uncle Jack said kittens lived. +</p> + +<p> +Carefully closing the stable door, Bryda, with +her heart certainly beating unusually fast, +climbed the ladder without stopping to think +what grandmother would say, and was soon up +in the loft—a delightful place, with a raftered +roof, and little windows with sprays of Ivy +pushing their way in, as if to remind the scented +hay that it once grew outside and was called +green grass. +</p> + +<p> +It was a nice place! and, oh, joy! from a +dark corner came the sound Bryda longed for, a +kitten's "mew!" It was not the voice of an +elderly cat, but the plaintive little "mew" of a +kitten, and Bryda, as she went toward the sound, +could see a pair of very round, bright eyes. +Carefully, not to frighten the little creature, she +went toward it; but, alas! kittens born in lofts +are apt to be wild and shy, and in spite of all +her coaxing, "Pussy, pussy! Come here, puss!" +the round, bright eyes went further off, and +finally the kitten took refuge in the darkest +corner of all. But Bryda was not going to be +beaten by a kitten. Treading carefully and +slowly, she came nearer; one step more and +she would reach the soft, furry thing. Another +moment, and it was in her arms; and Bryda, +delighted, sat down on a heap of hay, and +hugged it, saying, "Now, kitty, let's pretend!" +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-010"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-010.jpg" alt=""Pussy, pussy! Come here, puss!""> +<br> +"Pussy, pussy! Come here, puss!" +</p> + +<p> +What fun the games are that begin "Let's +pretend!" Why, one can be a king, a queen, a +judge, or a lord chancellor. We can grow up in +two minutes into happy people, who do no +lessons, and can order exactly what they like for +dinner every day, and need not go to bed at the +dreadfully early hour we young folks must. +</p> + +<p> +Then, merely to eat a pear is so dull! Grown +people have parties to amuse them at dinner, +the very dogs growl and play with their bones, +and the cats act a little play over every mouse +they catch. +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda would be Queen Elizabeth seated +on a throne, dining off goose on that Michaelmas +day when news came of the defeat of the +great Spanish Armada. The kitten should be +the messenger, a pear should be the goose. +Bryda had just read this story in her English +history. Hay makes a capital throne; Bryda piled +one up, and had just sat down with much dignity, +when—— +</p> + +<p> +Have you ever heard people say, when something +awkward happened, they would like to go +through the floor? Poor Bryda did! She +suddenly tumbled right through the scattered +hay—right through the ceiling! +</p> + +<p> +She was not really hurt, only a little bruised, +after all; for she had fallen into a sort of deep +cage with strong wooden bars, into which hay +was pushed down from the loft, and the bottom +of this cage was inside Paddy's loose box, close +to the manger. So that the first thing Bryda +knew, when she recovered herself enough to +look round, was that Paddy was standing +looking at her, and seemed very much surprised, +as well he might be, for little girls were not +generally kept in the loft along with the hay, +or poked into his stall for him to make his +dinner off. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, it is very likely that, if she had only +known it, the big, beautiful creature was much +more afraid of her than she of him. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, she was very much afraid, and grew +more and more frightened as the horse, finding +she did not move, came a few steps nearer, and +then began snuffing at her. If she were to try +to climb into the loft again, which did not seem +very easy, he might—he probably would—bite +her long black legs, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +It would not be very easy to climb into the +loft either; the cage was so very deep. What +was the unfortunate child to do? Paddy kept +on sniffing at her, the real reason being that he +could smell the pears in her pinafore pocket. +Bryda could smell them too, and a bright idea +struck her. She remembered a fairy tale about a +princess who softened the hard heart of a lion by +feeding him with cake. Perhaps this nice juicy +fruit would have the same good effect on Paddy. +Perhaps, too, while he was eating it she might +escape. Cautiously she drew one out, and it +went into the horse's big mouth as a gooseberry +would have gone into her own, and was as quickly +swallowed. That was a bad plan; he wanted +more at once. The next she threw on the +ground; and while Paddy stooped his sleek +curved neck to pick it up, she made a desperate +effort to escape. +</p> + +<p> +In vain! Hardly had she risen from her +cramped position and made a struggle to get +her hands up to the floor of the loft, when the +bright eyes and big mouth were back again, +and dreadfully near her legs! +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, don't! <i>don't</i>! Paddy!" cried Bryda. +"Here, you may eat all my pears, but really I +know I should not taste nice; so please don't +bite me." +</p> + +<p> +The remaining pears were soon gone; but +when they came to an end the difficulty still +remained, and Paddy could not be brought to +see that he could have no more simply because +there were no more. So he sniffed and sniffed, +poking his nose more and more between the +bars, and showing those dreadful teeth. He +only wanted pears; but Bryda grew perfectly +wild with fright, and finally, when Paddy +actually touched her hand with a hot nose, she +could bear it no longer, but gave first one wild +shriek and then another, and another, till the +spirited horse, terrified by the noise, plunged +about in the loose box, adding still more to her +dismay; and even Gog and Magog pricked up +their ears, and looked round, as if they would +say, "Please don't spoil our digestion by this +dreadful screaming." +</p> + +<p> +To Bryda's joy, however, the stable door +opened, and old John came tottering slowly in. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, John! John! save me! Don't let me +be eaten up!" implored Bryda, as soon as she +saw him; while Paddy became more composed, +and stopped prancing. +</p> + +<p> +Old John scratched his head; that was +natural. Then he very deliberately walked +toward the ladder, muttering: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm blessed if this 'ere ain't the +rummiest go as ever I see!" +</p> + +<p> +Which, you will observe, was not the sort of +English one finds in the dictionaries; but then +John was born before the days of school +boards. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, John! make haste!" cried Bryda again. +</p> + +<p> +But really it was a terribly long time before +John climbed the ladder, and gave his hands to +the frightened child, who was soon safe on the +floor of the loft. +</p> + +<p> +"Be you hurt, miss?" asked old John, looking +at her as if she were a china figure that +might have lost an arm or a leg in the fall. +</p> + +<p> +But Bryda was not hurt; only she trembled +from head to foot, and, after thanking John, +turned away and walked with a grave face into +the garden again, and to the foot of the old +sundial. +</p> + +<p> +The shadow had only moved on half an hour. +Bryda tried to hold her hand in such a way as +to make another shadow, that should come +further over the dial. But that was a bad +imitation of the real thing, and made her think +of one evening when Uncle Jack had told her, +with such a serious face, to take a candle, and +go to see the time by the old sundial; how she +had actually gone, and had only remembered +when she got there that the sun was in bed, +and therefore could not tell her what she wanted +to know. +</p> + +<p> +Up the pillar on which stood the dial two +very large snails were crawling—oh, so slowly! +They seemed to go even more slowly than the +long hot hours. +</p> + +<p> +How amusing it would be to make them run, +or rather crawl races! Bryda gathered a nice +fresh leaf, and put it at one edge of the dial. +Then she startled the two snails at the ether +end, and for the next hour or so was perfectly +happy watching them, and starting them again +and again. +</p> + +<p> +But at the end of that time the biggest and +fattest snail gave up the game in disgust, +finding he never could enjoy his leaf quietly when +he <i>had</i> got it, because a giant hand always +came, and would put him back at the starting-place. +</p> + +<p> +So he drew in his horns first, and then +went bodily into his house, which those gentlemen +conveniently carry on their backs. There +he sulked, and would come out no more; so +Bryda threw him into a cabbage-bed, and went +indoors. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had so many funny ways of amusing +herself that Uncle Jack, who was very fond of +making jokes, declared she "lived in a jar of +mixed pickles." Indeed, these same amusements +often ended by becoming small scrapes, +which he called Bryda's pickles; and we shall +see that they were of all sorts, and really +"mixed." +</p> + +<p> +None are very wise at eight years old, and +many of us are, like my little Bryda, very +anxious to do right and be of some use in the +world. So we will follow her as she goes into +the house. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER II. +<br><br> +A PRINCESS. +</h2> + +<p> +Cousin Salome would see her now, and so +Bryda went to the invalid's room. +</p> + +<p> +"You look very miserable, darling," said the +soft voice compassionately, as Bryda, after +kissing her cousin, stood looking dolefully out +of the window. +</p> + +<p> +"I am very miserable, Cousin Salome," she +answered, feeling that she had good cause for +misery. +</p> + +<p> +"Very miserable, when you can run about +and be out of doors with the sunshine and +the birds and the flowers! There must be +something very bad the matter. Come and tell +me all about it." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda knelt by the couch, a little ashamed +of herself. Cousin Salome might well be miserable, +so ill that she could never again hope to +walk in the sunny, scented garden. +</p> + +<p> +"It's easy for you to be good, I suppose, +cousin," she said. "You lie here all day, and +don't find any mischief to get into." +</p> + +<p> +The last words were said as if mischief was a +sort of thing that came to you, and asked you +to get into it—in the same way as roast pigs +run about in the fairy country, holding out a +knife and fork and crying, "Eat me, do! please!" +</p> + +<p> +"So mischief is the cause of the great misery!" +said Cousin Salome, smiling, and drawing the +little girl nearer to her. "Tell me what was +the last piece of mischief." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda told all about her adventure with +Paddy, and ended: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Cousin Salome, I've nothing to do!" +</p> + +<p> +"That's the beginning of all mischief, I am +afraid, darling. Do bees and birds get into +mischief? Not they, they are too busy." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I would make honey or a nest if I +knew how," said Bryda, laughing. "If I could +paint a picture like this, I should be happy." +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome had been painting. She could +only do a little at a time and that with +difficulty; but she had drawn a very beautiful +figure of a young girl in a rich, old-fashioned +dress, sitting by an open window, through which +could be seen a great plain and a large town +some way off. The girl's face was full of +wonder, and rather sad, and she looked away at +the sunset sky, as if she were thinking of +something very puzzling. Bryda took up the +picture and looked at it. +</p> + +<p> +"That is Princess Isabel of Montenaro; she +is doing what you are doing now, Bryda." +</p> + +<p> +"What I am doing, cousin?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; wondering what she ought to do. Do +you see the town beyond the green park? That +was her father's capital, and a dreadful sickness +broke out there, so that people died by +hundreds. But the king was a hard-hearted man, +and spent the days in feasting and hunting, and +paid no heed to the people's sufferings." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, do tell me the story!" cried Bryda +eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"The story, as I have it, is in verse. You +would not like that, Bryda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, yes! Please read it." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you read it yourself?" asked Salome slyly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, <i>no!</i>" with great energy. "Reading is +quite different from being read to. Why, the +story <i>tastes</i> quite ten times nicer when you listen +to it!" +</p> + +<p> +So Cousin Salome opened a book that lay +near, and began to read in her gentle, tired +voice, the story of the little picture she had +painted of the Princess Isabel. +</p> + +<p> +The story was all in verse, and it was a little +hard for Bryda to understand; but it told how +the princess could not bear to know that others +were suffering without trying to help them. So, +while the sounds of her father's noisy feast +came up into her quiet room, Princess Isabel +rose up, took off her fine dress and her jewels, +and dressed herself very simply. Then, +followed only by two of her ladies, who were +unselfish like herself, Isabel went down on foot +to the plague-stricken city, and there remained, +nursing the sick and caring for the poor, till the +dreadful plague was at last gone. Meantime +the king thought he could forget all about it. +and spent his time in hunting and feasting; +but the pestilence came even into his palace, +and he and many of his gay court died. +</p> + +<p> +Isabel was not touched by it; and when the +sad time was over she remained in the city +working for the poor people, and helping them +till she died, never thinking of her own +comfort. So the people, after she was dead, loved +to call her Saint Isabel. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Bryda, and drew a long +breath when the story was finished. She had +perhaps not understood it all, but one thing +was clear. +</p> + +<p> +"The princess was never idle, Cousin Salome. +So I expect she never got into mischief. +But I don't think it was nice for her to have +no playtime." +</p> + +<p> +"She could wait for her playtime, dear," +answered Cousin Salome gently. "She would +enjoy it all the more, perhaps, because she had +worked so hard." +</p> + +<p> +The sick lady turned a little and looked out +at the quiet evening. Noisy rooks were flying +home to roost, meek cows slowly walking off +to be milked; on a large tree a peacock and +his two wives were settling themselves for +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda looked out of the window, too. +</p> + +<p> +"I think the stars are afraid of the great +big sun, Cousin Salome. Do you see the way +they first poke out their heads, and look to see +if he is really gone, and then come right out to +do their little shining?" +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome laughed, and the deep lines +that sickness had written seemed to grow +fainter, and make her younger and rounder. +</p> + +<p> +"Their little worktime is just beginning. +They look as if they came out smiling, with +clean bright faces, ready to do as they are +bidden." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Cousin Salome!" said Bryda, stroking +the thin white hand that lay weak and idle +on the soft coverings. "You can't work or play +either. You must be very unhappy. I should +be." +</p> + +<p> +"When I was your age, darling, I built myself +grand castles in the air. Oh, how many +nice things I meant to do when I grew up! +But I was given a different sort of work, a +much harder one to me, dear child—the work +of patiently doing nothing." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda looked sorely puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind," went on Cousin Salome. +"You are not set to that work, Bryda, nor to a +great work like Princess Isabel's. Just now +you will find there are plenty of little works +ready for you to do—little crumbs of which to +make a great loaf." +</p> + +<p> +"Picking up grannie's stitches when she +drops them? asked Bryda. Grandmother's +knitting was often in that sort of state. +</p> + +<p> +"That may be one thing. They are plenty +more. Shall I tell you an old German story, +about the use of little things? +</p> + +<p> +"Once upon a time some people lived in a +plain, at the edge of which there was the sea. +They lived here long and happily; but one sad +day the sea began to rise and overflow the +plain, creeping every day a little nearer the +prosperous village. +</p> + +<p> +"So the people were sorely frightened, and +tried to build earthworks; but the sea washed +away at night what they had done in the day. +</p> + +<p> +"These were days very long ago, when, +according to the old stories, God would answer +men from heaven when they called to Him. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-025"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-025.jpg" alt="(Bryda and Salome)"> +</p> + +<p> +"So the people prayed and asked God to +send them His great angels, that they might +make hills for them to protect their homes and +fields from the terrible waters. +</p> + +<p> +"But God answered, 'My angels have already +their work; they cannot help you in this. But +to-morrow, at sunrise, I will send to you an army +of My laborers; they shall make you sand-hills.' +</p> + +<p> +"So the villagers were very glad, and next +morning they rose early, before the sun, +wondering what sort of laborers these would be. +</p> + +<p> +"'Perhaps the happy spirits of our fathers +will come back to help us; perhaps men from +the south country—a kind and friendly people—will +be sent to work for us. Perhaps——' +</p> + +<p> +"But all their wonder was in vain, and it was +changed to surprise and dismay when, as the +sun rose, they saw coming swiftly from the east +an army of—what do you think, Bryda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Lions and tigers?" asked Bryda, with +wide-open eyes. "Elephants? People? Giants?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed; neither great, strong animals, +nor clever men, but hundreds and hundreds and +thousands of ants!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ants, cousin? What use would they be?" +</p> + +<p> +"You shall hear. Each ant carried one grain, +or what seemed to be one grain, of sand. On +and on they came, and the ground was quite +black with their hosts. The people looked, +and gradually their murmurs grew to one great +roar of discontent. But God's little laborers +paid no attention. They had their Master's +will to do, and so long as that was done they +cared for neither the praise nor the blame of His +other creatures. So all day long they worked, +each little ant carrying his little load; and +when the sun set there was a great line of +sandhills, so high that no waves could wash over +them, so thick that no storm could break them +down, between the happy villagers and the sea." +</p> + +<p> +"Then the people stopped grumbling, I suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"We will hope so. And perhaps they learned +that God can use the smallest things to do His +work with. The little ants were as useful in +their way as the noble, unselfish Princess Isabel. +Now, dear, I am getting very tired; will you +sit quietly and look at pictures, or run away and +see the grannies?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda chose the pictures, and sat as still as a +mouse in the window, looking first at a picture, +and then out of the window, and saying to +herself that she, too, would try to be of some use. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER III. +<br><br> +ANOTHER DREADFUL SCRAPE. +</h2> + +<p> +The next morning Bryda was awakened from +her pleasant morning sleep by a strange sound. +Her window was partly open, but something +struck against the upper sash; it was not a bird +that had lost its way, nor a wasp come to look +for jam, for as Bryda raised her head something +that could only be a handful of light gravel or +shot struck the window again, and at the same +time a clear, shrill whistle sounded outside. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda hastily sprang up. One does not care +much about dress at nine years old, so in white +nightdress and dark twisted hair she fearlessly +put her head out of the window, and saw, to +her delight, her cousin, Maurice Gray, a boy +some two years younger than herself, with his +queer, ugly little Scotch terrier, Toby, standing +on the lawn. She need not be sad for want of +a playmate to-day. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-028"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-028.jpg" alt="Maurice Gray with his queer little Scotch terrier Toby."> +<br> +Maurice Gray with his queer little Scotch terrier Toby. +</p> + +<p> +"Get up and dress!" cried Maurice. "Aren't +you ashamed, my Lady Lie-in-bed? Come out +directly!" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda did not need a second invitation. A +very short time indeed passed before she was +by Maurice's side. +</p> + +<p> +His father had brought him over, he said; his +father wanted to see grandfather about some +business, so he had started off very early. +Maurice was dreadfully hungry, and, as the +grannies never breakfasted till ten, he and +Bryda each got a thick slice of bread and jam +from the good-natured cook, and then went off +to the garden, Bryda running races with Toby, +who mostly had the best of it. You see he had +four legs to Bryda's two. +</p> + +<p> +They went to the vinery, and acted a little +play, which, however, wanted a few more actors +sadly. It was so puzzling for Bryda to be both +the imprisoned princess and the ogre at once; +and when Maurice, the valiant knight, slew +Toby for a dragon, and stepped over his corpse +(or would have done, if Toby had been a little +more dead, and not run away every other +minute), it got really puzzling, and it was well +that the breakfast-bell rang at that moment. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was rather a long, dull affair. +Uncle James, Maurice's father, explained to +grandfather a great deal about a drainage +scheme; and grandmother, every five minutes, +asked her maid Martha, who stood behind her +chair, to tell her what it was all about, which +Martha had to do in very loud whispers over +and over again. +</p> + +<p> +Maurice and Bryda were very glad to run +out again, with special directions from grandmother +to keep off wet grass, and not get into +mischief. This, they thought, could not possibly +happen. This time they rambled into the farmyard. +Bryda would not look for more kittens, +but tried to make friends with some small balls +of fluff, which meant some day to be turkeys. +At one corner of the yard was a deep tank, or +little pond, full of a dark brown, rather thick +fluid, which was used in the garden and fields, +and had a great effect in the way of making +things grow. Bryda and her cousin stood looking +at it. +</p> + +<p> +"I declare," said Bryda, "it's like the Styx!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see any sticks," said ignorant +Maurice, who had never learned that the old +heathens believed the souls of dead people went +in a ferryboat across a dark river called the +Styx, and that the old man who rowed the boat +was called Charon. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda thought it would be capital fun to act +this little scene. Certainly the treacle-colored +stuff in the pool looked nasty enough to do +very well for this dark river. +</p> + +<p> +As to Maurice, he was younger than his +cousin, and when they were together she always +invented the games, although he had been to +school already, and thought girls generally were +very little use. +</p> + +<p> +So when Bryda explained what she wanted +to do, he only said that he did not know how +to act a story that he had never heard; +to which Bryda only answered quietly, and as +if it were a fact no one could think of doubting +for a moment, "You don't know anything +about anything, Maurice. Sit down there—no! not +on a cabbage, but on the wheelbarrow—and +I will tell you all about it." +</p> + +<p> +So she told him the story, in the middle of +which the wheelbarrow upset, because Maurice +laughed. So he sat on a log of wood, and Bryda +picked up the wheelbarrow, got into it, and +began in the words of one of her lesson-books, +with a little alteration to suit the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +"Friend! Roman! Countryman! lend me +your ears! I am Charon——" +</p> + +<p> +"What?" asked Maurice. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't spoil my speech! You may only say +'Hear, hear!' as they do in Parliament." +</p> + +<p> +"But suppose I don't want to hear?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had no notion of what they would do +under such unlikely circumstances; so, after +thinking a little, she merely said, "Don't be +silly, Maurice!" And that sort of answer puts +an end to any argument quite easily. +</p> + +<p> +"This is my dog Cerberus, with three heads," +went on Bryda, pointing to Toby. +</p> + +<p> +"My! what a lot of bones he would eat!" +said his master. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda suddenly jumped down from her rather +unsteady pulpit. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, we <i>will</i> have fun! Here, Maurice, +put on my white pinafore. You shall be a +ghost, and I will get into the tub with my dog +Cerberus, and ferry you over the river," she +said. +</p> + +<p> +"It won't hold two," said Maurice, looking +rather doubtfully at the rotten tub which Bryda +pushed into the filthy waters, making a splash +and a most horrible smell as it went in. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, ghosts don't want much room! Now, +Cerberus, in you go!" and in the poor dog went, +hastily and ungracefully; being, in fact, thrown +in head foremost. +</p> + +<p> +After one howl he resigned himself, and +lay down at the bottom of the tub, into which +unsteady boat Bryda, armed with her own small +spade, followed with Maurice's help. +</p> + +<p> +Having balanced herself by crouching down, +so as to bring the center of gravity to the right +place, she proceeded to paddle, or, as she called +it, to row with the little wooden spade, splashing +a good deal, and, of course, making the tub +turn round and round, and wriggle very +uncomfortably in the pool. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-034"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-034.jpg" alt="(Bryda floating in the tub)"> +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Charon, giving +up in despair, and looking very red in the face. +"We can pretend I crossed the Styx to fetch +you. Now I must speak to the soul in Latin, +because, of course, Charon and Cerberus talked +Latin always." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose Cerberus barked in Latin—all +three mouths at once," said Maurice; "what a +horrid row it must have been!" +</p> + +<p> +"Now talk away," said Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"But we don't know Latin; I've only just +begun at <i>hic, hoec, hoc</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"That doesn't matter; we must make it up, +of course. If we put 'us' or 'o' at the end +of every word it will sound exactly like the +stuff Cousin Ronald learns. Now: Poor-us +soul-us, do-us you-us want-o to cross over-o?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes-o," replied Maurice promptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Then-us come-o—oh! oh!" screamed Bryda, +making the last word very long indeed; +for she trod on the one tail of the dog Cerberus, +causing that remarkable animal to jump up +howling. Charon's ferryboat was not built to +allow of athletic sports on board, so it went +over, and Bryda went in. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, dear! what word can describe the filthy +mess into which Bryda was plunged up to her +waist! the smell of it, and the chill, horrible +feeling! Fortunately, she had just taken +Maurice's hand, to help in "the soul," who +indeed felt very lucky to escape such a voyage! +Maurice was able to help her, but, soaked to +the waist and ready to cry, she scrambled up to +dry land. +</p> + +<p> +By way of mending matters, the dog Cerberus, +who may be supposed to have become +Toby again, had gone in altogether, and was +rather pleased with himself. So he came and +had a good shake close to Bryda, so as to splash +all the rest of her small person, and then ran +round and round, expressing his delight by all +sorts of queer noises. +</p> + +<p> +But, oh! here was a mess! And this after +the trouble of yesterday, and all Bryda's good +resolutions! It was too dreadful, and tears +came fast to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +But kind Maurice, instead of laughing, pitied +her. "Don't cry," he said; "can't you wash?" +</p> + +<p> +"I might <i>run</i>," said Bryda dolefully, remembering +what dreadful things happened to frocks +that "ran." +</p> + +<p> +"That stuff might run off," said Maurice; +"come on." +</p> + +<p> +And she followed meekly to the nearest +greenhouse, where was a large tub of fresh +water, and beside it a big squirt or syringe used +for watering plants high up in the greenhouse. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Maurice dear, I never will call you +stupid again!" cried Bryda, delighted, as Maurice +filled the syringe and set to work upon her. +What fun that was! It was almost worth the +fright of that horrid splash, and almost—not +quite, perhaps—worth the disgrace Bryda would +certainly be in with nurse. Such peals of +laughter followed each shower that the quiet +cows in the fields beyond lifted up their great +heavy heads, and stared with brown eyes of +mild astonishment. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-036"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-036.jpg" alt="Maurice filled the syringe and set to work."> +<br> +Maurice filled the syringe and set to work. +</p> + +<p> +Can you imagine the sort of figure Bryda was +when grandmother came out in her wheel-chair +to take a turn in the sunshine? Soaked from +head to foot; streams of clean water, and others +of the horribly smelling stuff into which she +had plunged, pouring off her in all directions! +She did indeed look a miserable little guilty +thing, hanging her head while grandmother +looked at her through her gold eyeglass, +evidently so surprised and shocked that she could +find no words for a few minutes, and at last +could only tell her she must never! never! never! do +such dreadful things again. If she +did, the consequences would be +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +This row of stars must stand for those +dreadful consequences, for Bryda never heard them! +Uncle James and grandfather had come up by +this time, and she fled, as fast as wet, clinging +clothes would let her, to the house. It was +"out of the frying-pan into the fire," though, +for nurse's wrath was really something too +dreadful; and the way in which she ended, by +saying that she supposed Miss Bryda would like +better to make mud pies in the streets than to +play with other Christians, hurt the child's +feelings dreadfully. I am sorry to say she walked +out of the nursery with damp, smooth hair and +a clean frock, but with her head so very much +in the air that her namesake, Saint Bride, or +Bridget, or Bryda, would have been quite +shocked. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, Cousin Salome," she said afterward, +"it was such a dose of disgraces, and I meant +to be so wise, and clever, and useful." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you <i>ask</i> to be made wise, and clever, +and useful?" asked Salome gently. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda hung her head. She had forgotten +that. I am afraid she dressed so quickly in the +morning to join Maurice that she never +remembered to ask the Helper of the helpless to +make her what she would like to be. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been so miserable, Cousin Salome," +she added; "I don't believe Mary, Queen of +Scots, could have been more wretched if she +had had her head cut off three times running." +</p> + +<p> +How this was to be managed did not seem to +strike Bryda as puzzling. She and Maurice had +so often acted the execution of Mary of Scotland, +with an armchair for the block, and an +umbrella for an ax, that they were quite used +to the queen having her head cut off very often +without minding it in the least, or being any the +worse for it afterward. +</p> + +<p> +But, certainly, it is very tiresome when our +most amusing games end in some mischief that +we never dreamed of doing! It was not so very +long before this dreadful accident in the tub +that Bryda, who had been reading English +history, told Maurice they would act King Canute +and his courtiers on the seashore. +</p> + +<p> +So she put two chairs, and collected all the +water she could from every jug and water-bottle +she could find, so as nearly to fill a bath placed +in front of the two chairs on which she and +Maurice sat. +</p> + +<p> +"So they put chairs close by the seashore as +the tide came in," related Bryda, "and the little +waves came nearer and nearer. And the courtiers +said, 'O king, let us move a little higher up.' But +Canute said, 'Why should we? Did you +not say I was such a great king that no doubt +even the sea would obey me?' And the courtiers +held their stupid tongues, for they knew +very well that they had said so. But the tide +kept on coming, and presently the courtiers got +up and ran away, for the water was halfway up +the legs of their chairs, and they had already +been sitting with their knees up to their noses." +</p> + +<p> +But here Bryda, trying to get herself into +this graceful position, lost her balance, and +rolled off her chair, falling on the edge of the +bath; which, of course, upset, and made a higher +tide in the nursery than had ever been seen there +before, for the water flowed in every direction, +and the children, ashamed and frightened +though they were, could not help laughing at +the way in which a pair of Bryda's shoes floated +about like little canoes, till one that had a hole +at the side turned over and went down. +</p> + +<p> +This happened at Bryda's own home, before +her father and mother went away. Mother was +not pleased, of course; but still she was not +quite so dreadfully shocked as the grannies were +at the adventure in the old tub. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. +<br><br> +WHAT CAN I DO? +</h2> + +<p> +It was in a penitent frame of mind that Bryda +awoke on Sunday morning. She would be +really good and keep out of mischief all day +long. +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome was better this morning, and +Bryda went in to see her after breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear, I cannot go to church," she said, +when Bryda asked if she would go that +morning; "but I dare say church will come to me. +I shall read to myself, and think of all the +people all over the world who are saying the +same words of prayer, till my little room seems +to grow into a piece of a great church." And +Salome's white, thin face grew so bright and +sweet that Bryda thought it looked like an +angel's face in a picture she had seen. +</p> + +<p> +The idea helped her to sit much more still +than usual in the old family coach, opposite the +two dear old grannies. +</p> + +<p> +Grandfather was a very polite old gentleman, +and thought people nowadays too free and +easy. Especially he held that no gentleman +ever ought to drive with ladies with his hat on; +so, as soon as he got into the carriage, he always +took off his very well brushed tall hat, and fixed +it by the brim in two ribbons fastened for the +purpose along the carriage ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +Grandmother always wore a bonnet of the +shape that was in fashion when she was young, +a curious coal-scuttle affair, which generally set +Bryda wondering how the wrinkled old face +looked when its pink cheeks were round, and +whether, if she were to go to work with a piece +of india-rubber, she could rub out the deep lines +and get the young look back again. +</p> + +<p> +Grandmother's eyes were dim, and she liked +to have the lessons and the hymns found for +her. Bryda sometimes did not care to do this; +because, if the hymn were a short one, it was +sometimes half over before she had found her +own place, and was able to join, as she dearly +liked to do, in the singing. +</p> + +<p> +But to-day she really did want to be of use, +so she did this small duty cheerfully, and was +rewarded by the happy way in which the old +lady smiled and nodded over the big printed +book. +</p> + +<p> +The sermon seemed to have to do, in a most +curious way, with the very things of which +Bryda had been thinking, and she quite started +when the rector's voice said suddenly, "Nothing +to do!" and there stopped. "Nothing to +do," he said, "when the whole world is full of +things that want doing! The harvest ripe, but +the laborers idle! The people hungry, and +those who have the loaves and fishes keeping +them—wasted, unused!" +</p> + +<p> +The clergyman went on to speak of works +that men and women might do, and Bryda +nestled close against grandfather's shoulder and +thought sadly, "When I am grown up I may +be of some use, but what a long time off that +is!" But presently she looked up again very +brightly as the kind old rector went on: +</p> + +<p> +"And now, what shall I say to the little +ones? Just this, that the Father needs them +quite as much as their elders. They may not +be able to do great works, to reap the harvest +field, but they may help with cords of love to +bind the sheaves; they may glean the scattered +ears, and make a little sheaf of good corn. The +Lord took a "few small fishes" to serve His +great purpose; He will take little hands and +feet and hearts, and make them do His will. +Only the little ones must be <i>willing</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Yes! But he had not told Bryda what she +might do, and how to set about doing the Lord's +will seemed to her very puzzling. +</p> + +<p> +She wondered about it the whole way home, +and made a little plan, which she determined +to carry out at once after luncheon. When +grown-up people were very good, Bryda knew +that they were fond of caring for the poor, and +that then they generally carried soup to those +who were sick, and read the Bible aloud in +cottages. In her own town home she had never +been into the houses of the poor at all; indeed, +these houses were so hidden away behind the +handsome streets in which the rich lived, that +she hardly knew there were such places. But +here, in the little village outside grandfather's +lodge gates, she knew poor people lived, mostly +in neat cottages with honeysuckle climbing over +their trellised porches. There were most likely +nice old women there, who sat knitting in their +tidy room, with spectacled eyes, and caps as +white as snow. It would be nice to go there, +and surely to visit them would be useful, and +would please Him who made use of a "few +small fishes" to do His work when He was on +earth. +</p> + +<p> +Full of this happy thought, Bryda descended +to the kitchen. The servants'-hall dinner was +just over, the kitchen-maid was washing plates +in the scullery, and cook was sitting by the +kitchen window with a very clean apron and +very smart cap; while by her stood a tall young +shepherd, in his Sunday best, and a flower in +his coat. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda made her request to cook, namely, that +she might have a little soup in a jug. +</p> + +<p> +"Whatever do you want it for, miss?" asked +the cook, evidently ill-pleased by the interruption. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to do good to the poor," answered +she, looking up seriously at the cross face. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear! miss: what an old-fashioned child +you are!" cried cook. But she fetched the +soup, and Bryda was much surprised to see +that it was a cold bright jelly, very nice to +carry, as there could be no fear of spilling it on +her fresh Sunday frock. So off she started, +and walked quickly down the avenue and out +into the pretty village, with her soup and her +testament. But now came a new puzzle—Bryda +knew none of the people in the village. +To which house should she go? +</p> + +<p> +<a id="p048"></a> +Looking round, she saw that one of the +houses looked much poorer than the others. +The little garden was full of weeds, the porch +shabby and broken, with creepers that sadly +wanted nailing, hanging loosely from the wall, +one poor rose quite bent to the earth with heavy +blossoms. Everything looked neglected, and +Bryda thought the people must be very poor +indeed, since their home looked so wretched. +Timidly walking up to the door, for her courage +began to fail her a little, she tapped gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Open the door, Betsy," said a gruff voice +inside; to which another voice answered, grumbling: +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you do it yourself, you stupid old +woman?" +</p> + +<p> +Then the door opened suddenly, and Bryda +saw a rough-looking girl of about fifteen, with +a very dirty face, shock head, and untidy, torn +dress, whose voice was as rough as her look, +holding the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, then, what do you want?" she said, +frowning fiercely at her trembling visitor. +"D'yer want to know the way, or to ax a glass +of water? That's all folks like you ever +troubles folks like us for, 'cept when we're ill, +and then yer brings us tracks:" by which she +probably meant tracts. +</p> + +<p> +"If you please," said poor Bryda, "I thought +some one might be ill here, and so I brought +some soup." +</p> + +<p> +"Come in, my dear, come in," said the old +woman from her corner, and began coughing +and wheezing very loudly, groaning so dreadfully +between her attacks that Bryda was more +frightened than ever, and thought she was +going to die. Perhaps some soup would do her +good; so she timidly entered the cottage, the +girl immediately shutting the door behind her, +set down her little basket, and began to open it. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a nice bit o' chain round yer neck," +said the rude girl, coming behind her. "I +wonder if it wouldn't look better on me." So +saying, she quickly unclasped the pretty silver +chain that hung round her visitor's neck, and +put it on her own, before Bryda had time to +object. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman had, meantime, stopped +coughing; she got up quickly and seized the jug +of clear soup-jelly, and began poking her +shriveled old fingers in, and so eating it. But +the girl, seeing this, caught the hand that held +the jug, while the old woman was eating and +muttering all the time. +</p> + +<p> +"Soup for the sick! Oh, yes, I am very ill! +Bring me some soup, my dear; bring me plenty +of soup." +The rough girl caught the jug and tried to +put her own fingers in, on which a struggle +followed; the pitcher fell to the floor and broke, +while the jelly was scattered everywhere; and +poor Bryda, frightened almost out of her wits, +left the two dreadful women to fight, opened +the door, and ran as if they were after her, +leaving locket and chain, and her basket, and +feeling as if she were fortunate in escaping at +all. +</p> + +<p> +Rushing blindly on, she hardly knew where, +only feeling that she must run, her foot caught +in the root of a tree, and she fell violently to +the ground, striking her head against the trunk. +Stupid as she felt, in a moment she was trying +to struggle up, when a hand was laid on her +shoulder; and, thinking it must be the dreadful +girl who had so frightened her, the poor girl +screamed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, hush! don't scream that way!" said +a kind, soothing voice; an arm gently raised her, +and Bryda, looking up, saw an old man, with +cheeks like a winter-apple, white hair, and a +pair of the kindest, friendliest old eyes that ever +looked through spectacles, standing beside her. +</p> + +<p> +"Come into my cottage here, and rest a little." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda looked round her, feeling that for this +time she had had enough of the inside of +cottages. +</p> + +<p> +"Do now," went on the old man. "Don't be +afeard, missy! Thy grandfather and old Roger +were young together; ah! and good friends +they were, too, for all I could beat him at +wrestling; he never took it amiss, did Master +George—that's your grandad, little missy. +Come in now, and welcome." Bryda gained a +little courage at this speech, and followed the +old man into his cottage, close to which she had +fallen. +</p> + +<p> +As she went she could see the rude girl +looking out of her house and making ugly faces. +</p> + +<p> +"Which she need not have done," said Bryda +afterward; "she was <i>hideous</i> already!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER V. +<br><br> +OLD ROGER. +</h2> + +<p> +Directly Bryda was inside the old man's +cottage she was able to collect her scattered +wits, and look round at her kind friend and at +his dwelling. +</p> + +<p> +The little room into which she had come +served as the old man's sitting-room and kitchen +both; the door into what would naturally have +been his little parlor was open, and she could +see tools hanging up on neat wooden racks, +half-finished chairs and boxes lying about, +and in the center of the room a carpenter's +bench and turning-lathe. The carpenter himself +wore a very old-fashioned dress, long blue knitted +stockings, strong low shoes with buckles, a scarf +wound round and round his throat, so that two +little points of very white collar came just +under his chin, and a funny old brown coat +with peculiar-looking buttons. +</p> + +<p> +He drew a chair for Bryda near the hearth +on which burned a small wood fire, and above +which were a great many memorial cards in +frames—wonderful works of art, with very +black backgrounds and very white tombs, over +which leaned in exhausted attitudes drooping +female figures, supposed to be lamenting the +departed in the tombs, while usually a large +weeping willow languished in one corner of the +picture. +</p> + +<p> +The carpenter himself sat down, where he +had evidently been sitting before, at a small +table, on which was a very large Bible with +pictures in it. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so his eyes rested on the opposite +wall, on which was a quaint old woodcut, +representing the Christ in Joseph's workshop +at Nazareth, with a glory round His heady +busily making a table. Bryda saw, it too, and +could not help noticing the look of pleasure +that came into the old man's face, as if he had +suddenly seen a very dear friend. +</p> + +<p> +"You're a carpenter, Mr. Roger?" said Bryda, +trying not to feel shy. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay," answered the old man, turning his +spectacled eyes slowly from the picture to her +face. "I make chairs and tables, and all else +that I've strength for, just as He did," pointing +to the picture. "He made them for over +twenty years, but I've made them now for twice +that, and more. Nigh on to seventy years I've +done the same work as He did; and whenever +I do a real neat job, missy, I say to myself, +"That's right, Roger; do 'em better and better +still, and some day you'll do one that He +needn't a-been ashamed of." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think the Lord made the best chairs +and tables?" asked Bryda, wondering. She +had been so much more used to think of our +Redeemer as He taught, and worked miracles, +and went about doing good, than as the carpenter +who worked quietly in a little out-of-the-way village. +</p> + +<p> +"I dunno about the best, missy; maybe +He never had the best teaching leastways, not +to make grand folks' furniture. But I know +every nail He drove was put in true and straight, +and never a bit of bad wood used, or a place +people wouldn't see left unfinished. All the +work He did was the best He knew to do—that +I know right well, missy." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda sighed. She had come out to try and +do some of the Lord's own work—to help the +poor. And she had failed so horribly, with +the best intentions! The old carpenter heard +her sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell old Roger how you got into trouble, +missy," he said; "and maybe a cup of tea +would freshen you after all's done." +</p> + +<p> +It was only half-past three, but the old man +got up and bustled about, laying tea on the +clean deal table, with a cloth still cleaner, for +Bryda and himself, a big loaf, and a little bit of +country butter. Then he put the kettle on to +boil, and sat down opposite Bryda to watch it, +while she told all the story of her adventure to +her new friend, beginning with the scrape of +yesterday, and Cousin Salome's story, and ending +by saying sadly that it seemed as if there was +no use for her in the world. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't fret, my dear; don't fret," said the +kind old man; "the Lord has a use for +everything and everybody, if they'll ask Him to show +the way. Why, the dear Lord had need of a +donkey once, and He sent to ask for it. Didst +ask Him what to do, little miss, before thou +went?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda hung her head. That she had not done. +</p> + +<p> +"That's where the fault was," said Roger +thoughtfully. "What dost think 'ud happen +if I tried to do squire's work, or parson's? +They wouldn't thrive with me, for sure." +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the cottage door opened, +and the object of Bryda's terror, the +shock-headed girl, entered. In one hand she held +Bryda's locket and chain, in the other her +basket, both of which she thumped down upon +the table, so that all the tea-things rattled, +merely saying, "There, take yer things, and +don't come near us no more!" She bounced +out again, and banged the door behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"So it was Moll Dawson as freckened ye!" +said Roger, when she was gone; "she's a real +bad 'un, that girl. I'm thinking she's one of +those lambs that run further off because they +hear the Shepherd calling." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall never dare to go near her house +again," said Bryda; "but I am glad she did not +steal my locket and chain. And I wish I could +help somebody who is sick or very poor," she +added, returning to her first idea. +</p> + +<p> +The old carpenter leaned his elbows on his +knees, and looked at Bryda very earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +"When I were a young 'un," he said, "and +lived in a part of the country far away from +here, there was a cold, clear spring as bubbled +up by the roadside, with the best water in all +the country round, that never dried up. And +they called it 'The Child's Well,' and told a +pretty story about it." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, do tell me!" said Bryda eagerly, roused +at once by the idea of a story, like a dog at the +scent of game. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-058"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-058.jpg" alt="(Bryda and the old Roger)"> +</p> + +<p> +"Well," continued the old man, "they say +that once, long years ago, there was a little +lassie troubled in mind like you, missy, and +wanting to do a bit o' work for the dear Lord. +So every day, when she left her little white +bed, she knelt down and prayed summat like +this: 'Dear Lord,' says she, 'give me a little +bit of Thy great work to do.' And all day +long she was kind and gentle, and always doin' +a hand's turn for some one, if it was only +mindin' a babby while the mother went out. +</p> + +<p> +"But she didn't understand, ye see, missy, +that such bits o' things could belong to the +Lord's work. Till one day, as the story goes, +when it was a holiday, all the chicks went out, +and were going some way off to play. Just as +they got a little way out of the village, on the +dusty, hot road, they met an old man, very +foot-sore, and old and tired-lookin'. So he says, +'For dear pity's sake, little 'uns, give me a little +water.' But the well was some way back, and +the childer in a hurry to go and play, so they +one and all told him to go on furder, and he'd +find what he wanted. All but this little maid: +she stayed looking wistfully at the old man, +though the others called to her to come on. +'Sit down,' she says, 'till I fetch you some +water,' and off she runs back +to the village, fills a cup, and +brings it back steady, not spillin' +a drop. But when she came +where she left the old man +sitting, there was a beautiful figure, all in a +white dress with, gold about it, and such a face +as she had never seen before. And He took +the cup and put it to His lips, and then with +a voice like the sound of many waters—so she +told the people after—He told her, 'Even +a cup of cold water, given to the very least, +shall have its reward.' And He poured out +the rest of the water, and where it fell this +spring rose up. And while the little maid +looked at it, all on a sudden He was gone." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-059"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-059.jpg" alt="And where the water fell this spring rose up."> +<br> +And where the water fell this spring rose up. +</p> + +<p> +"Was it an angel that she saw?" asked +Bryda, in an awe-struck tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Some say it was an angel, some say it was +the dear Lord Himself," said the old carpenter, +bowing his head reverently. "But I don't +rightly know, missy; I don't rightly know." +</p> + +<p> +Here the kettle made a distraction by boiling +over, and old Roger took it off and made tea. +</p> + +<p> +Then his little visitor, who had now quite +recovered her spirits, suggested that it would +be "awfully nice" if they had some buttered +toast, and in two minutes he and Bryda were on +two stools by the fire, each with slice of bread +at the end of a fork, the old man and little girl +as happy as it was possible to be. +</p> + +<p> +They were just going to turn their pieces and +toast the other sides, when suddenly the door +opened, and Bryda's nurse entered like a whirl +wind, and stood horror-struck on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Miss Bryda, you naughty, naughty +girl! Whatever do you think your poor dear +mother would say, seeing you sitting there, for +all the world like a vulgar child, and every one +up at the house running about distracted, +because you're lost? Come away this minute!" +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-059b"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-059b.jpg" alt="(Girl sitting on the grass)"> +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had nothing to say for herself. She +meant to do good; but it was very naughty to +slip away "unbeknown," as nurse would say, +and frighten every one. +</p> + +<p> +The old carpenter had tea alone after all, and +Bryda went sorrowfully home with her scolding +nurse. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. +<br><br> +UNCLE JACK'S STORY. +</h2> + +<p> +Uncle Jack came home next day, and +Bryda's spirit rose from freezing to a very high +point indeed when she saw him come into the +garden, where she was sitting rather sadly, with +knitted brows, very busily thinking, and staring +hard at nothing. She was trying to think how +it was that she could not manage to be of more +use; and that is a very deep subject to think +about when you are only nine years old. +</p> + +<p> +"Though, after all," said Bryda to herself, +"lessons may do me some good. When things +are disagreeable, like doses and lessons, people +say they are for your good; but I don't see +how they can do any one else good." +</p> + +<p> +Just as she was thinking this, a merry +whistled tune came through the trees. Nobody +could whistle like Uncle Jack. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter, maiden all forlorn?" +asked his cheery voice. "Here comes the man +all tattered and torn to rouse you up!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Uncle Jack!" said Bryda sorrowfully, +"I am of no use." +</p> + +<p> +"No use! who cares about that? Perhaps +you were made for ornament, like the roses, and +butterflies, and nice little singing-birds." +</p> + +<p> +"Ornament's no use," went on Bryda, sadly +still. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't it? If the world had no birds, and +no flowers, and no butterflies, and no children, +only hard-working men and women and +cart-horses, what sort of place would it be?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very dull," said Bryda quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"So I should think. And supposing the +birds were all harnessed to carts, and the +flowers mown down for hay, and the children set +to work in offices all day long, would that be +nice?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda laughed. "No, indeed, Uncle Jack." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, Bryda's work is to look merry, +and good-tempered, and happy, as if she was a +tame sunbeam that the grannies kept to amuse +them." Bryda laughed still more. +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle Jack do you know you are horribly +nice?" she said, dragging him down to a seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Horribly nice? What sort of niceness is +that? Like raspberry jam, or pet kittens, or +troublesome children?" All these are nice, and +horrible too. Jam is horrible when it makes +you ill, kittens when they scratch, children +when they behave badly." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I could grow up all at once," said +Bryda, with a sigh; "and then I should never +get into scrapes again, and have grandmother +calling me Bridget." +</p> + +<p> +This was Bryda's idea of the worst thing +that could be said to her; when she was +naughty her own mother, and the grannies too, +called her Bridget, instead of using her pet +name. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you like all other children to grow +up too, and have only men and women in the +world? Oh, poor Bryda! how dull you would +be! Supposing I were to tell you a story +about a country where something of the sort +happened?" +</p> + +<p> +"Please, please do!" cried Bryda; "only +please, Uncle Jack, don't let it have a moral. +Miss Quillnib used to tell me stories when it +was too wet to go out after lessons, and there +was always a moral—something about me, you +know. And that spoiled the story, just the +way powders spoil raspberry jam." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack laughed at his little niece's +fancies, then settled himself comfortably on the +garden seat, lit his pipe, and went on talking +between the puffs, telling his promised story. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +UNCLE JACK'S STORY. +</p> + +<p> +"Once upon a time," began Uncle Jack, +"since we know no fairy stories are worth +hearing unless they begin with 'once upon a time.' +</p> + +<p> +"Once upon a time there was a country ruled +over by a king and queen who had no children. +Having no children of their own, these +sovereigns thought other people's children a +nuisance. I am afraid they were like the fox, +who said the grapes were sour because he could +not reach them, for it was well known that they +wanted some of these 'torments' very badly +themselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't call us torments, Uncle Jack," interrupted +his little niece. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see, madam, historians must be +truthful. I am bound to say that the king and +queen passed a law in which the children were +described as 'pickles, torments, plagues, bothers, +nuisances, worries,' and by twenty-four other +titles of respect which I have forgotten. This +law enacted: +</p> + +<p> +"First—That the children were to be seen +and not heard. Wherefore all children under +the age of sixteen were to speak in a whisper +and laugh in a whisper." +</p> + +<p> +"They couldn't, Uncle Jack," broke in Bryda, +"they could only smile!" +</p> + +<p> +"Or grin," said Uncle Jack. "So you think +that a cruel law, Bryda? +</p> + +<p> +"Secondly—As the sight of a child set the +royal teeth on edge, no child was to be allowed +to set foot out of doors, unless between the +hours of twelve and one on any night when +there was neither moon nor stars." +</p> + +<p> +"At that rate they would never go out," said Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see this was a law for the abolition +of children; so they were to be suppressed +as much as possible, of course. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, thirdly, the law declared—That, as +little pitchers have long ears, no child should +ever hear the conversation of grown-up people. +Therefore children were never to be admitted +into any sitting-room used by the elders of the +family, nor into any kitchen or room occupied +by servants." +</p> + +<p> +"O-o-oh!" said Bryda; "did they keep them +in the coal-cellar?" +</p> + +<p> +"In some houses, perhaps." +</p> + +<p> +"Fourthly—Forasmuch as play was not a +profitable occupation, and led to noise and +laughter, all play-time and holidays should at +once be abolished." +</p> + +<p> +"That was a very bad law," said Bryda warmly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, the law was passed, and was soon carried +out; and any one coming to the city would +have thought there were no children, so +carefully were they kept out of sight. All the +toy shops were closed, and confectioners were +ordered, under pain of death, neither to make +nor sell goodies. But one thing the king had +forgotten, and that was that, after all, there were +more children than grown people in the country. +One family had nine children, another six, and +so on; so that, counting the boarding-schools, +there were just three times as many children as +grown people in the capital. Well, after about +a week of this treatment (for the parents were +compelled under threat of instant execution to +carry it out), it happened that there came a +night when at twelve o'clock, though it was not +raining, there was neither moon nor star to be +seen. So all the children in the city rushed +forth into the park with Chinese lanterns in +their hands, making quite a fairy gathering +under the trees. Oh, how delicious it was! +They ran and shouted, and played games and +laughed, till suddenly one o'clock struck; and all +the king's horses, and all the king's men, came +to drive them to their homes again. But there +were hundreds and hundreds of children, and +only a few soldiers with wooden swords; for +this was a very peaceable nation, and armed +even its police with only birch rods. So one of +the biggest boys blew a tin trumpet, and called +all the children to him. +</p> + +<p> +"'I vote we rebel,' he said. 'We will not +stand this any more; let us drive away all +the grown-ups, and have the town altogether to +ourselves.' +</p> + +<p> +"Now it so happened that a fairy had been +watching all that went on in the town, and was +not at all pleased. So when she heard this bold +boy speak she thought it would be a good thing +to let this rebellion be carried out. 'Serve 'em +right,' she said; 'young and old shall all learn +a lesson.' +</p> + +<p> +"So she collected a few thousand fairies, and +they flew to all the king's men, and whispered +in their left ears dreadful things, which +frightened them terribly and made them believe an +immense army, instead of the troops of children, +was coming to crush them all. Then the fairies +whispered in their right ears that it would be +wise to fly to a neighboring mountain where +there was a large old fort, and there take refuge. +So they galloped off as fast as the king's horses +would carry them. Then the fairies flew all +over the town and whispered the same things to +all the grown-up people—fathers and mothers, +old maids and old bachelors—till they, too, +tumbled out of bed, dressed in a terrible hurry, +and fled to the mountain. Even the king +jumped out of bed, tied up his crown in his +pocket-handkerchief, and ran for his life in his +dressing-gown, while two lords in waiting, or +gentlemen of the bedchamber, rushed after him +with the royal mantle of ermine, and the scepter +and golden ball. The lord chancellor filled his +pockets with new sovereigns from the mint (for +he slept there to look after the money) and then +he too ran, but rather slowly, for he had the +woolsack on his back, and it was pretty heavy. +When they asked him why he took the trouble +he answered that he thought the ground might +be damp, and he already had a cold in his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, all the elders being gone, the children +were left in possession of the city, at which you +may well suppose they were greatly astonished. +They went on with their games for awhile; but +then the lanterns began to go out, and one after +another they grew very sleepy. So the boy +with the tin trumpet blew it again, and +commanded that every one should now go to bed, +and that a meeting should be held at twelve +o'clock next day in the park, at which every +child should appear. +</p> + +<p> +"Appear they did, in their Sunday clothes, +those of them at least who cared for finery; +there were no mothers or nurses to object. All +were in great delight at having no one to rule +them. +</p> + +<p> +"'I shall never go to bed at eight!' said one. +</p> + +<p> +"'I shall never eat rice pudding—horrid stuff!' +</p> + +<p> +"'I shall never take any more doses!' +</p> + +<p> +"'I shall never do any more lessons!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Nor I! nor I! nor I!' shouted one after +another; 'we shall all do only what we like! +How happy we shall be!' +</p> + +<p> +"Only one little maid whispered, with a tear +trembling on the long lashes of her blue eyes, +'Dottie wants mother!' But Dottie was soon +comforted, and ran about as merrily as ever. +</p> + +<p> +"Meantime the elder boys and girls held a +very noisy Parliament, in which there were +never less than five speaking at once. After a +great deal of chatter they determined to set up +a queen; and a very pretty little girl called +May was chosen, and crowned with a crown of +flowers. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-072"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-072.jpg" alt="(Dancing children)"> +</p> + +<p> +"Next, Queen May and her council of six, +three boys and three girls, ordered that a big +bonfire should be made of all lesson-books and +pinafores, for they thought pinafores were signs +of an inferior state, of being under command, +as servants sometimes think their caps are. +</p> + +<p> +"The next law was that all the raspberry +jam in the city should be set aside for the use +of the queen and her court, and for those who +were invited to the royal tea parties. There +was a little grumbling about this, but finally +the grumblers gave in. All this time troops of +children came pouring in from the neighboring +villages with pinafores on the end of broom +sticks as flags of rebellion. Being pretty +hungry, they dispersed for dinner, which in most +of the houses was a very curious meal, as, of +course, no one could cook, so they had to forage +in the kitchens and storerooms, while bands of +hungry young folks stormed the confectioners' +shops, and dined off ices and wedding-cake. +</p> + +<p> +"Then they opened the toy-shops and put +them in charge of parties of children and gradually +the other shops were treated in the same +way, for buying and selling is always a game +children like, and it was such a treat to have real +things to sell. Only money was such a trouble: +they were always forgetting to bring any, and +the young shopkeepers never were sure if a +shilling or a sovereign was the right price for a +thing. Therefore they concluded to do without +it; and costly things were bought for kisses, +while cheap ones were to be had for saying, 'If +you please,' or, if they were very small, as a +penny bun, for instance, then 'please' was +enough." +</p> + +<p> +"How nice!" said Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, for a whole week there never was +such happiness as the children enjoyed. Games +from morning to night, bread and jam three +times a day, no lessons, no forbidden things, +and a queen of their own age in place of the +tyrant king. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-074"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-074.jpg" alt="For a whole week there were games."> +<br> +For a whole week there were games. +</p> + +<p> +"But when a week was over some little murmurs +began to arise. Every morning, I ought +to say, the queen sat on her throne in the royal +palace, to receive any of her subjects who liked +playing at being courtiers, and she and her +council then settled any difficulty that arose +about rules of games, about the way to make +the best toffee and any other important question. +</p> + +<p> +"On this particular morning, then, rather +more than a week after the establishment of the +Children's Kingdom, a very large throng entered +the queen's presence. Foremost came a troop +of boys and girls, who led in a pale, +serious-looking boy as a prisoner, and brought him to +Queen May's feet. +</p> + +<p> +"'What is the charge against this prisoner?' +asked the queen, with dignity. 'Don't all +speak at once,' she added, so hastily that several +courtiers giggled. +</p> + +<p> +"'Please your majesty,' said a boy, stepping +forward, 'we caught him in the act—the very +act—of learning lessons!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Lessons!' cried the whole court, in every +tone of disgust, anger, grief and dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"'Lessons!' screamed the queen, and at once +fainted away." +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't!" said Bryda indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you think the shock was great +enough?" asked Uncle Jack. "Besides, she +felt it part of her royal duty, perhaps. +</p> + +<p> +"Anyhow, they tickled her with feathers, +and put burned cork to her nose till she had a +black mustache; and one boy brought a red-hot +poker, which he said he had heard was a good +thing, though he did not quite know how it was +applied. +</p> + +<p> +"It was the best remedy, certainly, for on its +appearance the queen jumped up shrieking, and +declared she was perfectly well. +</p> + +<p> +"Then the queen proceeded to try the +prisoner, and requested the whole court to act +as jury. It was a very sad case of youthful +depravity—the criminal had carefully kept this +one book, 'Somebody's Arithmetic,' or 'Hangnail's +Questions,' to gloat over in secret; and +even now was not at all penitent, but declared, +when asked what he had to say for himself, that +it was 'stupid, and a bore,' to play games all +day long, and he was sick of them. +</p> + +<p> +"The jury could not agree as to what was to +be done with such an offender, and so he was +allowed to go, and bidden 'not to do it again,' +and the queen went on to the next difficulty. +Here the throne-room became quite full of +children, all in great perplexity; for the matter +was this, that the food supply was running +short. The confectioners' shops were nearly +empty; there was plenty of jam, but very little +bread; and one or two boys, who had breakfasted +on jam out of a pot, eaten with a spoon, +said, 'They didn't know how it could be, but +somehow they thought it did not quite agree +with them.' +</p> + +<p> +"This was really very serious. Could no one cook? +</p> + +<p> +"Well, several had tried to make puddings; +but somehow, though they ought to have been +quite right, <i>something</i> was wrong, and no one +would eat them. One girl had bravely made +some apple-dumplings, and baked them quite +brown; but then she could not find out how to +get the apple in, so they were no more than +hard balls, and not real apple-dumplings at all. +</p> + +<p> +"'What are we going to do?' said Queen +May sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +"A dead silence reigned. +</p> + +<p> +"'I know!' said a boy called Eric, starting +forward suddenly, and all eyes turned to this +owner of a bright idea. 'I know!' he said, +brandishing a many-bladed knife; 'I'll kill a +pig!' +</p> + +<p> +"A murmur of horror arose from the girls. +</p> + +<p> +"'Oh, no!' said Queen May politely; 'my +faithful subject, we will not let you make +yourself so miserable." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, <i>I</i> don't mind!' cried Eric; 'really, +you know, I should <i>like</i> it!' +</p> + +<p> +"'I'll hold him for you!' cried several boys at once. +</p> + +<p> +"'Quite as if they liked it,' whispered the girls. +</p> + +<p> +"But Queen May interposed, and said the +court should break up and go to blind-man's-buff. +At the same hour next day any one who +had a bright idea should come and tell it. For +the rest of the day she, at least, did not mean +to bother her head. If a pig were killed, it +would have to be cooked. And shaking her +curls, which were like a crown of gold, Queen +May jumped off her throne and ran out into +the park. +</p> + +<p> +"Presently the Fairy Set-'em-right came +flying over the town, and saw all the children +running about and shrieking with laughter. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-078"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-078.jpg" alt="The fairy came flying over the town."> +<br> +The fairy came flying over the town. +</p> + +<p> +"'Bless my broomstick!' she said, for she +had borrowed one from a witch to fly upon, +saying she had rheumatism in her left wing. +'Bless my broomstick! this won't do at all!' +</p> + +<p> +"She did not notice that a great many children +were standing about in groups, whispering—what +they dared not say aloud—that they +were getting tired of games all day, and of +nothing to eat but sweet cakes and jam at +meals. +</p> + +<p> +"'I should really, really and truly, like some +boiled mutton,' said Master Archie, who was +known to have had a special dislike to that +dish. +</p> + +<p> +"'I know what I shall do,' said the fairy; +'I shall make these children feel like grownups, +and then I shall fly off to the mountain, +and make the grown-ups feel like children: +and if <i>that</i> doesn't bring them to their senses, +I am sure I don't know what will.'" +</p> + +<p> +At this exciting point a servant came to +tell Uncle Jack that grandfather wanted him, +and he went off whistling, promising Bryda the +rest of the story "next time." +</p> + +<p> +But as she did not know when "next time" +would be, it was rather provoking. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. +<br><br> +BEPPO. +</h2> + +<p> +Bryda sat still where Uncle Jack had left +her, thinking over his story. +</p> + +<p> +"You see, my dear," she said to herself (Bryda +had a funny way of calling herself "my dear" +when she talked to herself, and told herself +stories, or read herself little moral lectures as +Miss Quillnib her governess used to do); +"You see, my dear, the thing is this: when +any one tells a story they can make things +happen so that there shall always be a good +moral. Now, I am sure that town in the story +would be a very nice place, but Uncle Jack is +sure to make everything go wrong!" +</p> + +<p> +Here nurse came and carried Miss Bryda off +for a walk. They went through the village, +and old Roger was at his work. The house-door +was open, and he nodded a pleasant +"Good-day." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda lingered a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't this a nice day, Roger?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay, little miss," answered the carpenter, +"it's one of the Lord's own days. He doesn't +give us too many of them, for fear we'd get too +fond o' this place, and not be in a hurry to go +to our Father's house." +</p> + +<p> +Nurse had stopped to talk to the blacksmith. +It was funny, but she always had something +special to tell the blacksmith; and he would +keep a horse waiting ever so long to be shod +while they talked, though really they never +seemed to say anything very interesting. +</p> + +<p> +However, Bryda knew she would have some +time to herself, so she walked into old Roger's +cottage, and sat down on a bench among the +sawdust and shavings. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you are very poor, aren't you, +Roger?" she asked, after watching him silently +for some time. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor, missy? Well, maybe some folks 'ud +think so, but there's no man in the village +richer, for all that!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then why don't you have a grander house?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll go to my grand house by and by, +missy," he answered, driving a screw carefully. +"Ah! a grand house that is indeed! It's +making ready for me all this time; but when +once I go, I'll not come back here again!" +</p> + +<p> +"I should think not!" answered Bryda, looking +round the poor cottage. "Is it a palace, +Roger?" Bryda's idea of a palace was something +very splendid—golden tables, and silver +chairs, and all the rest of the furniture to +match. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, you may well call it a palace! There's +no house hereabouts would match that one," +answered Roger, in his cheery voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Does any one else live there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes! All my brothers and sisters—the +children of the King." +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Bryda! Miss Bryda! You troublesome +child!" called the nurse's voice. "Come +along, this minute! wherever have you got +to—poking in them low places?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nurse did not think the forge a low place," +thought Bryda, but she was obliged to go. +</p> + +<p> +"Nurse," she said, when that worthy person +had done scolding, "do you know, I am sure I +may go and see that old carpenter, for he is not +a common man at all, but a prince in disguise +Only fancy! Just like a fairy tale!" +</p> + +<p> +"Fairy grandmother!" said nurse, who was +not in the best of tempers; and they went on +for some way in silence through the village. +</p> + +<p> +A little outside the village stood a neat white +house, in which the doctor lived, and in front of +this a woman in an Italian dress was turning +the handle of a barrel-organ, while a handsome +boy of five or six, or perhaps older—for though +small, he had an old look in his face—stood +holding a little tin mug to collect pennies. +There were no pennies in it; the woman looked +dreadfully pale and ill, and coughed without +stopping, and the child's big, black eyes looked +very sorrowful. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor's servant came out of the white +house, and roughly ordered them away, with +abuse which shocked Bryda to hear. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently the kind doctor was not at home, +for he would have been sorry for the poor sick +woman, who was trying to earn a few pence +when any one who was better off would have +been in bed, carefully nursed. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had a penny; she meant to buy sugar-candy, +but she dropped it into the little tin, and +was rewarded by a bright smile on the little +face, and "Tank you, signorina;" by which the +little boy meant, "Thank you, miss." That +was nicer than sugar-candy. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't abide furriners," said nurse. "Aren't +there any little white children for you to give +your money to, Miss Bryda, without encouraging +those outlandish folks to beg?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda did not answer; she was wondering if +the Lord would think her penny of any use for +His poor. It was a very little coin, but it was +all she had then. It would buy a bit of bread; +and, perhaps, one of the "few small fishes" was +not worth much more. +</p> + +<p> +As they came home again Bryda saw the +same woman and child toiling along the road in +front of them, entering the village again. +</p> + +<p> +The woman staggered under the weight of +her barrel-organ; she seemed very faint and +weak; either she must be very ill, or she had +had no proper food. Perhaps both misfortunes +were hers. +</p> + +<p> +A baker's man went riding by with some +loaves in a basket. As he passed the Italian +woman the horse seemed frightened, either at +her white sleeves or at the instrument she +carried, and Bryda saw him sway violent and +throw one of the loaves out upon the road. The +baker did not miss it, and rode on faster, beating +his horse. +</p> + +<p> +But the little Italian boy sprang at it; and +Bryda felt sure he was cruelly hungry from the +way in which he seized the bread and put it +to his mouth. He did not bite it though, but +changing his mind, ran to his mother, and held +it out. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Madre mia, pane!</i>" he cried. "My mother, +bread!" he meant. +</p> + +<p> +The lad's mother looked at the loaf of bread +for a moment—only a moment; then she shook +her head, and spoke to the child in Italian. The +baker had stopped at a house by the roadside; +the boy was off like the wind, and soon came +up breathless, and handed him the loaf. +</p> + +<p> +The baker was a kind-hearted man, and gave +the child a roll, with which he ran back to his +mother. Then he broke it in two and offered +her the large half, beginning at once to munch +the other himself. The mother took a little of +the piece he had given her, but she seemed too +faint and weak to eat more than a mouthful. +</p> + +<p> +By this time Bryda and her nurse had overtaken +them. +</p> + +<p> +"Little boy," said Bryda shyly, all her pity +roused by the scene, "where do you live?" +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-086"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-086.jpg" alt=""Little boy," said Bryda shyly, "where do you live?""> +<br> +"Little boy," said Bryda shyly, "where do you live?" +</p> + +<p> +The child was not shy; he looked her full in +the face with his big black eyes, and pointed to +the village. +</p> + +<p> +"In house-yesterday-next-day," he said in his +broken English. +</p> + +<p> +"You are living there for a few days, are +you?" asked Bryda, puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +The boy nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Do tell me your name?" she asked again. +</p> + +<p> +"Beppo, signorina." +</p> + +<p> +Here nurse again interposed. She was a +cross-grained woman, very faithful to her duty, +but with little sympathy to spare, and she did +not at all approve of "Miss Bryda's notions," +about caring for the poor. +</p> + +<p> +"When you get your governess and plenty of +lessons to do, you won't be so anxious about +them low creatures, miss," she told Bryda. +"Learn to play tunes on the piano, and paint +pictures like other young ladies—that's what +you've got to think about." +</p> + +<p> +But poor little Bryda, though she often, as +we have seen, got into trouble and mischief (for +she was not at all a model little girl), did really +want to serve the Lord Jesus, of whose great +love she had learned, and her great wish was to +know what a little girl could do for Him. +</p> + +<p> +The Lord Jesus was always helping the poor, +and she knew His faithful servants did the +same, so it was a sad puzzle to her to find such +treatment as Moll Dawson's, when she tried to +do some good. Perhaps Uncle Jack was right, +and she ought not to have tried to do what was +only grown people's work. +</p> + +<p> +But here was this little Italian boy. He +looked sad, and seemed hungry and very poor, +and his mother was so ill. How sad it was! +</p> + +<p> +Bryda knelt by the window when she came +home, and looked up at the beautiful blue sky, +where a happy lark was singing—so high up +he ought to be nearly at the doors of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +"Our Father," she prayed, "let me help +Beppo a little, for Jesus Christ's sake." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-088"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-088.jpg" alt=""Our Father," Bryda prayed, "let me help Beppo.""> +<br> +"Our Father," Bryda prayed, "let me help Beppo." +</p> + +<p> +And this little prayer of "one of His little +ones" went straight to the ear of the loving +Father, who is always more ready to hear than +we to pray; and very soon it was answered. +</p> + +<p> +God has so much work for hands, and brains, +and tongues, and feet. In this world a child +who loves "helping mother," can do many a +little thing for her, and the work is sooner done, +because of such small helps. And so the great +Father, who uses the little dewdrops to water +His thirsty world, will give to every happy, +willing worker <i>something</i> to do, little works for +the little ones, more to His great angels, and at +last heaven shall be full of "servants" who +"serve Him" and see His face, and are never +sorrowful, or stupid, or tired, or disappointed in +anything any more. +</p> + +<p> +When Bryda had asked God to let her help +Beppo she felt much happier. She would talk +by and by to Cousin Salome about him. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime she had the greatest of all treats, +for in the afternoon Uncle Jack was going to +drive in his dogcart, with Paddy in the shafts; +and the pace at which Paddy went was what +Uncle Jack called "greased lightning." Anyhow, +it was something very different from the +solemn jog, jog, jog, one, two, three, four, one, +two, three, four, of Gog and Magog, when the +grannies took her out, and old John dozed on +the box. +</p> + +<p> +"It's so dull to have to drive alone," said +Uncle Jack at lunch, with a heavy sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"Call for Captain Tomkins, and take him +out," said grandmother. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so shy," answered Uncle Jack sadly. +"But if I could find a young lady, a very young +lady of about eight or so, to come with me——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Uncle Jack, take <i>me</i>!" burst out +Bryda. And so he did; and best of all, when +they were fairly started, Uncle Jack lit a big +cigar, and between the puffs went on with his +fairy tale. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. +<br><br> +THE REST OF THE STORY. +</h2> + +<p> +"So the Fairy Set-'em-right waved her hand +over the troop of children. 'You shall all feel +like grown-up people,' she said. +</p> + +<p> +"In a few minutes a strange change began to +come over them all. A great game of +'blind-man's-buff' was going on, when suddenly +several of the girls put themselves into very +stiff, solemn attitudes, just like old maids, and +said, 'Really, they thought they were almost +afraid they could not play any more. Such +games, especially at their time of life, were +hardly quite proper.' So they would not go +on. Others, again, declared that there was +nothing they so thoroughly enjoyed as watching +people playing at these kind of amusements; +but for themselves—well, if the others did not +mind, they would like just to sit quietly and +watch. So they did, and presently some of the +boys began stroking that part of their faces +where a mustache might some day grow, and +remarking that 'Haw! don't know, you +know—a—this sort of thing was all very well for +schoolboys, but really—a—we could not, you +know.'" +</p> + +<p> +This sentence Uncle Jack brought out with +a very funny drawl, the boys being turned in to +dreadfully fashionable fellows. +</p> + +<p> +"The crowning point," continued Uncle +Jack, "was reached when the blind man, pushing +down his bandage, stood still, and addressed +this altered crowd very seriously indeed. +'What miserable folly is this?' he asked. +'Shall we mortals waste our precious flying +moments in—in what, my brethren?' +</p> + +<p> +"You see he had turned into a preacher," +explained Uncle Jack. +</p> + +<p> +"'In what a miserable, frivolous occupation! +catching each other!—nay, only <i>trying</i> to catch +each other! Poor fools and blind! let us cease, +I say—' But he had no one to say it to, for +the whole audience had gone off in different +directions, and the preacher had only his little +brother of five left to listen to his wise words. +'Come along, Tommy,' said he, 'I will try and +find some one for you to play with, little man.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Play with!' answered the little brother +in a tone of utter surprise. 'My dear sir, I +have no time to play. Letters, telegrams, +appointments by scores fill my time. Let me +tell you, sir, there is no busier man than your +humble servant in the whole country.' +</p> + +<p> +"With which he turned about and strode off +with the longest strides his little legs in their +blue sailor trousers could take; for he had +become a man of business. +</p> + +<p> +"'This is too absurd,' muttered the elder, and +went off to look for the church of which he was +vicar. +</p> + +<p> +"The same remarkable change came over all +the children. One little brat who was busy +teasing an unfortunate kitten stopped suddenly, +and rushed off in search of pen and paper, with +which he returned, and began at once to +compose an ode 'To Tabitha.' +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'Fairest pussy ever seen!<br> + With mine eyes of clearest green,<br> + Fly me not.'<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +That was how it began, for he had become a poet." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-093"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-093.jpg" alt="Tommy had now become a poet."> +<br> +Tommy had now become a poet. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought poets wrote about knights and +ladies, and green fields and the moon," +remonstrated Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"So they do. But sometimes they want a +new subject, and this young genius thought he +had found one. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, all the children, without losing their +child faces and figures, turned into the sort of +people they would be when they were grown +up. So of course their games seemed very dull, +and they wanted grown-up occupations. But +not knowing quite how to set to work, they +were all lounging vaguely about, when the clear +notes of a bugle sounded through the city. +</p> + +<p> +"This was the well-known signal for the +assembling of the whole population in the park, +and off went all these queer grown-up children +to the place of meeting. Here they were met +by Queen May, who sat on a garden-chair with +her court around her, all looking very solemn. +</p> + +<p> +"'My faithful subjects,' said the queen, 'I +have sent for you to consider a very grave +question. I regret to state that the affairs of +this kingdom are in a condition which will, +perhaps, be best described as unsatisfactory.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Hear, hear!' said a gentleman of four, +bowing gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"'Hear, hear!' echoed many voices. +</p> + +<p> +"'Perhaps the most unsatisfactory point is,' +went on Queen May, who, you see, talked in +very grown-up language, 'is, I say, the banishment +of a large portion of the population; that +portion, in fact, which we were formerly +accustomed to call our elders and betters.' +</p> + +<p> +"Cries of 'No, no!' +</p> + +<p> +"Queen May went on to explain that after +all they got on badly without these elders. +With all their efforts the young folks had not +strength or skill to do a variety of things, +without which the round of life seemed likely +soon to come to a standstill. So she proposed +that she and all who would go should start at +once for the mountain and fetch home the exiles. +</p> + +<p> +"There was some murmuring at this. The +old law might be carried out, and the children +made wretched again. +</p> + +<p> +"'And—why, bless me,' said an elderly person +of nine, as he fixed on a double eyeglass +with gold rims, 'they might actually want to +send me, me! to bed at eight o'clock!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Proper conditions would be made,' the +queen said. +</p> + +<p> +"One after another all the objections were +overcome, and a long procession started, with +Queen May, mounted on a white pony, at its +head. +</p> + +<p> +"On arriving at the mountain they were +greatly surprised to meet the king, that stern +tyrant who wanted to stop all fun, running as +hard as his legs could carry his fat body, with +his crown on the back of his head, and a green +net-bag tied on to the end of his scepter, chasing +a white butterfly. +</p> + +<p> +"'Please, your majesty,' began Queen May +shyly; but the king only looked round for a +moment, and ran on, then tumbled over a furze +bush, so that his crown rolled far away, and the +butterfly escaped, while he lay there kicking. +</p> + +<p> +"The children were very much surprised at +this, and thought the king must have gone mad, +and, in fact, they felt very penitent, for they +supposed his hurried flight must have been too +much for the brain, so they were to blame for +this terrible alteration. +</p> + +<p> +"A little further on, however, they were still +more surprised to see a circle of the most serious +old maids in the whole capital, ladies whose +time was mostly spent in making flannel garments +for the poor, or sitting at neat tea-tables +with neat curls on each side of their faces, and +a neat cat, curled on a neat cushion, in a neat +chair, close at hand, and these old ladies were +all screaming and laughing like children. +</p> + +<p> +"These very respectable old ladies now looked +anything but neat! Their curls were flying in +all directions, and they were screaming with +laughter, pinching each other, and making all +sorts of silly jokes over a furious game of 'hunt +the slipper.' For you see they had gone back +to what they used to like when they were +children. +</p> + +<p> +"Queen May looked at them gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"'Dear friends,' she said, 'at your age, is this +decorous? Is it proper? Is it even ladylike?' +</p> + +<p> +"'There it is! Catch it! Catch it!' cried +one of the old ladies. +</p> + +<p> +"'Come and play with us!' cried another. +</p> + +<p> +"None of the rest paid any attention to the +serious looks of the grown-up children, who went +sadly on toward the fort, hoping to find some +one more reasonable. +</p> + +<p> +"The next person they saw was the lord +chancellor, a bald, stout old gentleman, who was +sitting on the woolsack, which, you remember, +he had carried away on his back. He was very +busy with a pipe, and the children thought he +was smoking, and grew more hopeful. He +might have some trace of good sense left, they +thought, if he could care for such a grown-up +pursuit." +</p> + +<p> +Here Uncle Jack offered his cigar to Bryda +politely; but she made a face and turned her +head away. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to be so grown-up as <i>that</i>," she +said. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" said Uncle Jack, with his funny face, +that he always put on to tease Bryda. "Oh, I +thought you wanted to grow up all of a sudden." +</p> + +<p> +"Well—only for some things," answered she, +feeling that Uncle Jack was taking a mean +advantage in remembering her sayings, and +bringing them up again. "Please go on," she +added hastily. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack winked at her very slowly and +solemnly; then took a good puff at his cigar, +and went on. +</p> + +<p> +"When they came up he was found to be +blowing soap-bubbles! +</p> + +<p> +"'A-ah!' he spluttered, trying to talk with +the pipe in his mouth. 'D-don't break it, +please! There!' as the bubble burst and +vanished; 'it's too bad, I declare! Directly I +get a really good one, big and bright, that +always happens. Have a try,' he added, +offering Queen May the pipe. +</p> + +<p> +"'I say, my lord,' said the major-general +commanding the royal army, coming up at the +moment, 'can you tell me how to mend lead +soldiers? I've tried gum and glue, and one of +the maids of honor tried to sew one, but +somehow they don't join properly. It's a horrid +bore, and that fellow, the speaker, won't let me +have a ride on his rocking-horse. I'd punch +him, only he's six feet three, and as broad as +he's long. So I don't know what to play at.' +</p> + +<p> +"'It <i>is</i> slow,' answered the lord chancellor, +pityingly. 'Never mind, old chap, come up to +the fort and we'll make some toffee.' +</p> + +<p> +"So the elderly gentlemen went off arm-in-arm, +and Queen May shook her head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +"'They are all mad, poor things! What are +we to do?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Hi! hi!' cried a voice, and looking round +they saw that tall, handsome nobleman, the +master of the horse, running toward them as +fast as he could. At last, perhaps, they had +found some one to speak sensibly to. +</p> + +<p> +"'Hi! you fellows,' he cried breathlessly; +'stop a minute, will you? Is that a circus +pony? and can he do tricks? Sit up with a hat on, +and drink out of teacups, I mean.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Certainly not,' replied Queen May, with +her utmost dignity. 'I hardly understand, +Lord Moyers, how you can ask such a strange +question. Did you ever see a lady, especially +if she were a crowned queen, riding a circus +pony?' +</p> + +<p> +"Lord Moyers giggled, and turned head-over +heels on the spot, after which he rushed off +again to join the rest of the House of Lords, who +were playing 'hi! cockalorum,' close by. +</p> + +<p> +"The procession went on very sorrowfully +toward the fort. It grieved them to see this +frivolity in those to whom they had been taught +to look up. +</p> + +<p> +"'Alas, my country!' sighed Eric, the boy +who, you remember, had proposed to kill the +pig before he was touched with the fairy wand. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps it was on arriving at the gates of +the fort that the very strangest sight was seen. +The queen was a very stout and middle-aged +person, of rather stern countenance, and here +she was busy with a skipping rope—her hair +loose, her royal robes tucked up, and her crown +on one side. +</p> + +<p> +"'It's the best fun and the finest exercise in +the world,' she gasped, 'If I could only skip +twice to one turn of the rope!' +</p> + +<p> +"And on she went, while the children +watched. But there was something so utterly +ridiculous about the sight that Queen May and +her followers, after various vain efforts to +suppress their mirth, burst into one peal of +laughter, which rang merrily through the old +fort, and over the hillside. +</p> + +<p> +"It broke the charm, and in a moment the +children became children again, and the grown +people became as they were before. +</p> + +<p> +"There was a large flat field on the mountain +top, in front of the gates of the old fort, +and here all the exiles were in a few minutes +assembled. +</p> + +<p> +"The king was about to address them, when +in a moment, no one knowing how she came +there, the Fairy Set-'em-right stood among them, +close beside his majesty. +</p> + +<p> +"'You have all learned a lesson, and I will +put it into words for you,' she said." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dear!" interrupted Bryda, "here comes +the moral! Don't make a very hard one, Uncle +Jack, please!" +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. "I must finish this truthful +story truthfully, miss. +</p> + +<p> +"She said, turning to the king and queen: +</p> + +<p> +"'Your fault was that you forgot you once +were young yourselves.'" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda nodded her head very wisely. +</p> + +<p> +"'And you, children, forgot that you could +not do without old people. That wicked law is +at once repealed.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Certainly, ma'am,' said the king, bowing. +</p> + +<p> +"'Children are to be children, and behave as +such, and be treated as such. Parents are +parents, the children are not to forget that. Now +go home all of you, and don't forget this one +one caution, <i>I've got my eye on you</i>.' +</p> + +<p> +"With these awful words the fairy vanished. +And that's the end of the story." +</p> + +<p> +"And a very nice ending, too!" said Bryda. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. +<br><br> +A PRINCE IN DISGUISE. +</h2> + +<p> +More good-tempered than usual next morning, +nurse was easily persuaded by Bryda that +the village would be quite the nicest direction +for a walk. She wanted to see that nice old +Roger again, and perhaps they might even meet +Beppo. She begged a roll left from breakfast, +and put it, wrapped in a sheet of old copy-book, +with some pennies, in her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +The blacksmith was in his forge, and had +some very important news for nurse, and Roger +was outside his door busily weaving the cane +seat of a chair he had made, for he was a +jack-of-two-trades, if not of all trades, and made +chairs from beginning to end. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Roger," said Bryda, as she +came up. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, missy. A good morning it +is, though not like yesterday. That was a sort +o' wedding day, with the world in a green dress, +covered with jewels made of dewdrops, while +the birds sang a hymn, and the great gold sun +came in his best blue dress to marry her," +answered the poetical Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"And to-day, Roger? What's that like?" +</p> + +<p> +"All! to-day's a good honest workin' day, +missy, made for the busy bees and all the +Lord's workin' folk." +</p> + +<p> +"Cats aren't working folk," said Bryda, stroking +Roger's sleek tabby. +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe cats' work is to keep lone folk +company, missy," said the disguised prince, for +as such his little friend always thought of him. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall you have cats in your palace?" she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +"That'll be as the king pleases, missy. I do +hope so, for I be main fond o' cats." +</p> + +<p> +"Is tabby very old? she's very lazy." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't rightly know how old she is. You +see, missy, nigh on two years ago my housecat +died. Well, I suppose the village cats told +each other when they met on the house-tops at +night. Anyhow I never could open my door of +a morning that there wasn't one cat, or maybe +two and three cats, applying for the situation, +each one with a first-rate character from his last +place." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda laughed heartily. "How did they tell you?" +</p> + +<p> +"How? Why, bless you, little miss, it's +often easier to know what God Almighty's +brutes mean than what men mean, for all we +call the brutes dumb. Tell me all about it +they did, rubbin' against me and purrin', how +the master of one had gone away, and the +mistress of another was dead; and how one was a +real good mouser, and another was that honest +he'd rather starve than steal. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, the long and short of it is, missy, I +took Mrs. Tabby for a month on trial, to see if +she'd make a good housekeeper. An' we suited, +she and I, and she's never given me warning +yet, nor I her, so I don't think we'll part +company till I go home." +</p> + +<p> +"When are you going, Roger?" asked Bryda. +She could not help puzzling a good deal over +this story of the old man's, about his palace +home; but he spoke so simply and naturally +that she could not doubt that he spoke the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't rightly know," he answered slowly; +"I'm thinking when it's ready they'll let me +know. But I'd be main glad to stay a little +longer now, Miss Bryda, for all I've often +wearied to be there. Shall I show you why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Please do." +</p> + +<p> +The old carpenter got up and opened a door +opposite to that which led to his own little +room, and there Bryda saw a touching sight. +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-106"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-106.jpg" alt="(Old Italian woman in chair with Beppo)"> +</p> + +<p> +The poor Italian woman was sitting propped +up with pillows in a straight-backed old +armchair, with Beppo in her arms. The child +seemed to have grown sleepy after play, or +perhaps, like his countrymen, he was accustomed +to take a nap at midday. At all events he was +sleeping, and the poor sick mother was gently +rocking the heavy boy, and singing a soft little +Italian cradle song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Ninni, ninni, ninni, nanna,<br> + Ninni, nanna, ninni, nolu,<br> + Allegrezza di la mamma,<br> + Addormentati, oh figliolu."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +That is: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Joy of thy mother,<br> + Fall asleep, oh, my little son!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +How white she looked and how weary! She +laid her finger on her lip, and looked at the +curly black head on her knee. Roger closed the +door softly, and went back to his seat on tiptoe. +</p> + +<p> +"I think, missy," he said, "it won't be long +before the Everlasting Arms are put round her, +to soothe her gently to sleep, as she do the little +'un." +</p> + +<p> +"Is she <i>dying</i>, Roger?" asked Bryda, in an +awe-struck voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," answered the carpenter, wiping his +spectacles, which had suddenly grown dim. +"That little black head'll not long have a +mother to lean against; though she'll want for +nothing as I can get her; and doctor, he sent +her full two pints o' stuff, all for nothing. But +he shook his head, he did, and I know what he +means by that only too well; he did it to my +Liz twenty-five years ago, come March next." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda felt very sorrowful. Her own mother +had gone to India, but then she wrote letters, +nice long ones, every week. And she would +come back. But poor Beppo would have no +letter from his mother if once she went away, +as she knew Roger's loved wife Liz had done, +for there was an old gravestone by the old +church door with that one little word roughly +cut upon it—"Liz." And on it last Sunday +she had seen the old man lay a bunch of fresh +flowers, as he passed in to pray. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you share your riches with her, Roger—that +money you told me you had stored +away?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"My hid treasure, missy? Ah, that I will! +There's so much o' that—ah, so much!—that I +might share it wi' every soul as passed the door +and be none the worse off mysel'." +</p> + +<p> +"You won't want it in your palace, will you? +Or is there more of it there? Chests and chests +of precious things all the palaces in fairy tales +have in them. But they are only made up," +added Bryda, with a little sigh. "That's the +worst of fairy tales. But your treasures are +really true, aren't they, Roger?" +</p> + +<p> +"True when all else is false, missy; safe +when all else is lost; real when all else is a +sham." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda longed to ask more about this +wonderful wealth of the old man who looked +so poor. He must be a miser, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger, are all the king's sons as rich as you +are? and his daughters? or are you the eldest?" +</p> + +<p> +"There's enough for all alike, missy. No +one's too rich or too poor in our Father's house. +But our Elder Brother, missy, there's none like +him—none. The only wonder is as he isn't +ashamed of his sisters and brothers, so far as +he is above them, and so much greater than +ever since his work was finished." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, do tell me about him! Oh, nurse! don't +go on yet, please!" implored Bryda, as +nurse came up the little garden-path with hasty +step. +</p> + +<p> +But nurse would not stay. She always said +she "couldn't abide that old Methody carpenter;" +and the real reason of her dislike was +that once before, when she had brought Bryda +to stay with the grannies, old Roger had said +something she did not care to hear, because she +had helped to spread a cruel mischief-making +story about the village. +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda left her roll and her pence with +Roger, and went on with nurse. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had not seen the last of Beppo for +that day. There was a private walk through +the grounds, which led to the church. The +grannies could not walk so far, and the old +carriage always came to take them to church. +But this afternoon, as Bryda was wandering in +the garden, it struck her that she would like to +take some flowers and put them on the grave of +Roger's dear Liz. It would please the old man +to see them there. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda, of course, had never seen Liz. +</p> + +<p> +"But I know exactly what she was like," she +told herself. "She was not very tall, but just +nice; and she had violet eyes and long black +lashes, and pretty rosy cheeks—not too red, but +pink like a peach. Oh, I know she was nice! +And she always wore a brown gown, and a red +handkerchief crossed on her chest. And I +don't wonder Roger loved her. I should, too, +for she always spoke gently, not like nurse." +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda grew quite fond of the Liz she had +thus invented while she gathered her flowers. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder what flower Liz was like? Cousin +Salome says we ought all to be like flowers +in God's garden. If we are, I'd rather be like +some flowers than others. Here is a tall orange +lily. Oh, you great, showy thing! How stiff +and proud you are! And I tell you you're not +so very pretty, after all," said Bryda severely. +</p> + +<p> +The orange lily did not seem to mind in the +least, but stood up just as proudly as ever. +</p> + +<p> +"You poppies, red and white," went on Bryda, +"you have much nicer manners: you're like +ladies who are polite as well, and say nicely, +'How do you do, Mr. Jones? Will you sell me +some chickens, please?' You yellow flowers—I +don't know your name—you're very nice till +one comes close, and then you smell horrid. I +think you are like people who are very polite +to strangers, but are nasty and cross at home, +and slap when they play games. +</p> + +<p> +"You, dear roses," she went on, talking to all +the flowers in turn, "you are really too lovely! +But I mustn't put you on Liz's grave, because +the grannies don't like you gathered; you are +like beautiful ladies in pictures, who get prettier +and prettier if you go on looking at them. +</p> + +<p> +"Here are pansies—hearts'ease, nurse calls +them. That is the right flower for Liz! She +was so gentle, and good, and kind that she +made every one happy. If you fell down and +were hurt, or if you had that horrid ache all +over, that comes of being naughty or unhappy, +and you told Liz, she would make you all right +in no time. She shall have hearts'ease on her +grave and nothing else, except a little mignonette, +for that is quiet and sweet like she was." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-113"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-113.jpg" alt="(Bryda and her wreath of flowers)"> +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda twisted up a pretty wreath of +hearts'ease and mignonette, to take to the grave +of this Liz, whose looks and character you see +she had invented for herself, for you know if +the carpenter was really a prince in disguise, of +course his wife and daughter were princesses. +Bryda would take the first possible chance of +asking old Roger more about his brother and +about the palace, and if he would not be sorry +that Liz could never go there with him. +Meanwhile she set off down the pretty shrubbery +walk with her simple little wreath to lay on the +princess' grave. +</p> + +<p> +"No one would call her Princess Liz. I suppose +she was Princess Elizabeth," she said to +herself. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER X. +<br><br> +BEPPO'S FRIEND. +</h2> + +<p> +Away went Miss Bryda, with her head full +of Liz and her charms, the flowers in her hand, +to the churchyard. +</p> + +<p> +It was peaceful there in the quiet September +sunshine, and Bryda felt sorry to think that the +dead people could not see how pretty their +resting-place looked. It was a large churchyard, +with some old vaults, and white crosses +over newer graves; indeed, many generations of +old and young were asleep there. It was a city +of rest, with the gray old church for its temple +in the middle; and its streets were mossy +paths, as unlike as possible to the great, noisy, +restless streets of the big towns of the living. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda put her green wreath with its purple +and yellow stars on the humble grave where +there was no grand inscription like that to Sir +Jocelyn de Wraymont close by, with all his +virtues in capital letters after his name; but +only that one word "Liz." +</p> + +<p> +Then she went and tried the door of the old +church. It was open; the vicar never allowed +the building to be closed, unless there was +some urgent reason, so that any one who wanted +to think or to pray quietly might come in there. +At first the village people thought this an odd +idea, but after a little time first one and then +another found out this quiet refuge and slipped +in. There was always service morning and +evening for those who could spare time to attend; +and though the worshipers were always few, +yet, as the vicar said, "they could pray for +everybody, and the Father was so gracious +that if only two or three were met together it +would please Him." +</p> + +<p> +When Bryda went in there was nobody in +the building but an old man, who had just +risen and was going out on tiptoe, with the +sunshine from a painted window on his bent, +white head. Bryda felt sorry for him, he +seemed so old and feeble; she would have been +still more sorry had she known that it was the +evil doing of his two sons, and even of his +daughter (for he was Moll Dawson's old father), +that made him look old and bent before his +time; sounds of quarreling were so often heard +from the uncomfortable cottage he called home +that he often escaped to the quiet church. +There he would sit by the hour, sometimes with +tears rolling slowly down his furrowed cheeks, +and then go home very weary, for when we are +young we are not much the worse for "a good +cry," but old people's tears are few and bitter. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda watched this old man go out, and then +stood still, wondering whether she should go in +herself, when her attention was attracted by a +low sound, like that of some one sobbing quietly. +She listened; the sound stopped a moment, then +began again. It was certainly someone crying, +and for a moment she felt half-frightened, for +she could not see any one. +</p> + +<p> +Then a better thought came. Perhaps she +could try and comfort some one who was +unhappy, and that might be a little bit of the +"Lord's work." She had once heard her mother +say that a child was sometimes the best of all +earthly comforters. +</p> + +<p> +So very quietly she stole up the side aisle, +and there, behind a pillar, she found—Beppo! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, poor little Beppo! Crouched on the +ground, half-kneeling, leaning against the cold +pillar, the poor child with passionate sobs +seemed to be pouring out all his heart. His +great black eyes were fixed on a beautiful +painted window opposite. This window had +been put in to the memory of a very good and +charitable young lady, whose early death had +been deeply mourned by every one who knew +her, and it showed a lovely figure, with angel's +wings, and a face of pity, gently raising a sick +child, and looking at him tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +Poor little Beppo, alone and lonely, had +crept into the church, and gazing long on the +beautiful window, had presently thought the +kind face was watching him with pity. +</p> + +<p> +He was in bitter grief, for his dearly-loved +mother had been trying to tell him she would +soon go away never to return. She had succeeded +only too well, for the poor child, when at +last he understood, brushing past kind old +Roger, rushed from the house to the church +where he could be alone. In his own country +the church is a refuge for the sorrowful, always +open for any one who will enter; so in this +strange land he naturally sought the old gray +building. +</p> + +<p> +Poor little boy! he was very young and very +ignorant, and he had been taught to ask for, +and to hope for, the help of saints and angels. +The doctor could do little for his mother; +Roger, kind as he was, could not save her; and +poor little Beppo, wild with grief, and in the +midst of strangers who could scarcely +understand what he said, threw himself before this +lovely figure in the window, and thought that +at last he had found a friend to help him. +</p> + +<p> +All this Bryda learned, but really it was +rather difficult. She could not "make up" +Italian that Beppo would understand, in the +easy way in which she and Maurice Grey made +up Latin to talk to each other when they played +at Charon's boat. +</p> + +<p> +Then Beppo's English was very odd, and his +story was so often interrupted by sobs, that +quite a long time had passed before the little +comforter was able to make out the younger +child's trouble, and to understand that he had +been talking to the angel in the beautiful +window when she found him. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-120"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-120.jpg" alt="(Bryda and Beppo)"> +</p> + +<p> +Little Bryda was sadly puzzled. How was +she to comfort Beppo? What could she say? +</p> + +<p> +She could not tell him to hope his mother +would get better. That the doctor said could +never be. Could she comfort Beppo with a lie? +No, never! +</p> + +<p> +She could not say the angel would do the +poor dying woman good. The angel was very +beautiful, but after all she was only made of +glass and paint. +</p> + +<p> +So, after looking sadly at Beppo's tear-stained +face and little drooping figure, all she could, say +was: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Beppo! I am so sorry!" +</p> + +<p> +And with that she threw her arms round him, +and together the two children cried, till Beppo's +sobs came more gently. This little English girl +was sorry because he was unhappy. After all +he was not so lonely! +</p> + +<p> +"Children!" said a voice near them, so near +that both started and looked up. Bryda sprang +to her feet, and held Beppo by the hand, feeling +as if they were both likely to be scolded for +making the church a place to cry in. +</p> + +<p> +But there was no anger on the loving, kind +face of the old vicar, who stood before them, +only great pity for whatever trouble had caused +these tears. The Good Shepherd, his Master, +cares as much for the pains of His lambs as for +those of His most prized sheep, and His +messenger would give as much care to these two +children as to the greatest people in the land. +</p> + +<p> +Beckoning them to follow, he went quietly +down the aisle and out into the churchyard; +there, taking a hand of each, he led them to a +seat that was placed under a spreading tree +among the graves. +</p> + +<p> +"Now tell me all about it," he said kindly; +and Bryda forgot to be shy as she looked into +his face, and soon told all Beppo's story while +the little boy looked with wide black eyes, that +had no tears in them now, at his new friends, +the old clergyman and the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +"I see, I see!" said Mr. Joyce, for that was +the vicar's name. +</p> + +<p> +"And now, Beppo, can you understand if I +speak English? because then, if I talk to you, +this young lady will understand too." +</p> + +<p> +Beppo nodded his head. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Joyce went on: "There was once a +little boy, no matter how long ago, whose little +sister was very ill—so ill that the doctor said +there was no hope that she could live many +days. Now in the country where these children +lived it was always believed that if any mortal +could get one leaf from the Tree of Life, that +grew in the garden of God, every illness would +be cured at once. But no one had ever tried +to get this leaf, because the journey was steep +and rough to the gates of the garden, and +because an Angel stood there to keep the gate +and would let no one pass. But this little boy +loved his sister so well—as well, I think, as +Beppo loves his mother." +</p> + +<p> +Beppo's dark eyes filled with tears again, +and the vicar laid a hand gently on his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"So well that he could not have loved her +more if he had tried with all his might. And, +when all other hope seemed gone, he said, 'I +will go, I will beg of the Angel at the gate to +let me in for one moment, or to give me a leaf, +only one leaf, from the Tree.' +</p> + +<p> +"So he went by the long, rough way, till in +the golden sunset he stood before that great +Angel, and trembling made his request. +</p> + +<p> +"'None can enter this garden but those +children of the King for whom He has sent, that +they may be with Him. I can let no other +enter,' answered the Angel. +</p> + +<p> +"'But one leaf,' prayed the child, 'one little +leaf to cure my sister. The King will not be +angry!'" +</p> + +<p> +"And as he spoke he could hear, though he +could not see into the garden, the Tree rustling +gently, and the birds among the branches +warbling the praises of the King of Glory. +</p> + +<p> +"Only one leaf, and there were so many on +the tree! 'The King, the loving Father, cannot +wish that my poor little sister should have to +suffer so, and then die and leave me all alone! +Have pity upon me, great Angel, it is such a +little thing I ask!' entreated the child. +</p> + +<p> +"But the Angel looked down upon him with +deep love and pity in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"'The King has sent my brother, the Angel +of Death, to bring your sister to Him. She +shall dwell forever in the light of His smile. +If you are allowed to keep her, will you promise +me to take care that she shall never again lie +tossing on a sick bed?' +</p> + +<p> +"'How can I?' said the child, wondering. +'Not even the wisest physicians can always heal +diseases at once.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Then will you promise that she shall never +be unhappy? never do wrong, and suffer shame +and sorrow? never be cold, hungry, tired? that +no one shall speak to her harshly?' asked the +Angel. +</p> + +<p> +"'Not if I can help it,' answered the child. +'But perhaps I could not always make her +happy, even when I am grown up.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Then the world where you want to keep +her is rather a sad place,' the Angel said gently. +'Now I will open the gate a little, and you +shall look in for a moment, and if you still wish +it, my child, I will ask myself that you may +have a leaf from the Tree of Life, that your +sister may stay upon earth with you.' +</p> + +<p> +"So the Angel who kept the golden gate +opened it a very little way, and as the mighty +door rolled back for a moment, the child could +see into the Land where by the river stands the +Tree of Life, and where those who are counted +worthy walk forever in white—where they +need no candle, neither light of the sun, +because the smile of God is the light of that +wonderful place, and His servants shall serve +Him, and no tongue can tell the happiness that +is theirs forever and ever." +</p> + +<p> +"Did the little boy see right into heaven?" +asked Bryda, in a low tone. "Oh, do tell us +what he saw!" +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell you what he saw," answered +the vicar; "you and I, little Bryda, have to +wait awhile, it may be for me a very little while, +trusting that the Father will in His mercy, for +His Son's sake, give us a place there. But this +I will tell you, that the child turned toward +the beautiful Angel with eyes full of wonder +and surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"'I will not ask it now,' he said; 'I think +there is no friend so kind as the Angel of +Death, who seems to us so dreadful. Oh, I +wish he would take me, too!' And the Angel +answered: +</p> + +<p> +"'When all the lessons which the Father +desires you to learn in His school, which is +called the Earth, are learned; when the little +piece of His great work that is meant for your +hands is finished, then the Angel will come for +you too, my child, if only you are true and +faithful.' +</p> + +<p> +"And the child turned away and went back +under the stars, that were like eyes of angels +watching him, back from the golden gates to +his home in the world. And as he went a +golden ray shot once across his path, and +brought a sound of wonderful music, such as he +had never heard. And he knew that the golden +gates had opened, and his sister had passed in. +On a little bed at home lay her body, white and +still, but he knew that it was only the dress she +had worn in the world. And the child was +comforted." +</p> + +<p> +And Beppo was comforted too. As the +vicar spoke, he imagined a country more +beautiful than his own Italy, where golden +oranges hang in the dark-green leaves, and the +wonderful blue sea sleeps under the blue sky, +but where people are sick and sorrowful as they +are everywhere in the world. His dear mother +would go to that wonderful place, so beautiful +that even this wise gentleman could not tell +him exactly what it was like. She would never +cough, nor be tired nor hungry again! +</p> + +<p> +But the bells began to ring for service. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Beppo, I will take you home," said +Mr. Joyce; and Bryda said good-by to both, +and went slowly home along the shrubbery +path. +</p> + +<p> +This has been a sad chapter; but you see +there are sad parts even in the lives of children; +and if Bryda was not in quite such wild spirits +as usual, she certainly did not feel unhappy that +evening, when, sitting by Cousin Salome's +couch, she told her all that had happened. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you think," said kind Salome, "that +if you were to bring Beppo here in the afternoon, +Bryda, you and I could teach him a little about +a better Friend than his angel in the window, +a Friend Who can and will help him, and Who +will never die and leave him, never change and +forget him?" +</p> + +<p> +And Bryda very gladly promised to bring +Beppo next day. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. +<br><br> +DREADFULLY FRIGHTENED. +</h2> + +<p> +"Miss Bryda," said Uncle Jack at breakfast +next morning, "if you knew what I know you +would be a good deal wiser than you are now." +</p> + +<p> +"I dare say I should, Uncle Jack," answered +Bryda, pouting. "I suppose you mean if I +knew all the dates of all the Norman kings, and +could speak French without any mistakes, +and—and—several other things." +</p> + +<p> +"Such as how many beans make five? and +that useful kind of thing to know, I suppose? +But if I were a little girl, and any one told me +the very nice piece of news which I think I had +better not tell you, why, I should really and +truly, I do believe, be obliged to get up and +give the person a kiss. Especially if he was +young and very handsome!" added Uncle Jack, +twirling his mustache, and looking very seriously +at his niece. +Evidently the only chance of getting this +news was to get up and give him a kiss, which +Bryda did, and both she and Uncle Jack were +promptly scolded by grandmother, who said +that in <i>her</i> young days she used to sit still at +breakfast till every one had finished. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack begged her pardon at once, very +politely indeed, and then told Bryda his piece +of news. +</p> + +<p> +"I know a field, a very little way off, where +there is a hedge simply crawling with blackberries." +</p> + +<p> +Grandmother was a little deaf, so she did not +hear what he said quite lightly, and with a +little scream she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Crawling with black beetles! Oh, John! for +pity's sake have them all killed at once!" +</p> + +<p> +"I will, mother, dear, and they shall be made +into jelly for your dinner," said Uncle Jack, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +But the dear old lady grew quite excited +about the black beetles, and he had with some +trouble to explain that a hedge crawling with +blackberries was a way of speaking that he had +invented to make Bryda laugh. "She so seldom +does laugh, poor child!" he said. +</p> + +<p> +Well, Uncle Jack was going to shoot this +morning, and he would take Bryda to the blackberry +hedge, and leave her there till he came +back again. +</p> + +<p> +So he did; and Bryda, as she marched off +with a big basket on her arm, beside Uncle +Jack with a gun, made a little request. +</p> + +<p> +"Might Beppo come and help her? It would +be a very little round to pass old Roger's +cottage, Bryda would like it so." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what a little coax it is!" said Uncle +Jack; "and, pray, who is Beppo?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda soon explained, telling Uncle Jack all +about the little boy who so much interested her +and his poor mother. +</p> + +<p> +"And he's such a nice boy," she ended. "He +has curly hair, and big black eyes, and speaks +such very funny English." +</p> + +<p> +"He must be a nice little boy with all those +charms!" laughed Uncle Jack. And to Roger's +cottage they went. +</p> + +<p> +Roger was at home, and so was his cat. Uncle +Jack began to talk to the old man. Bryda, +after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat, +and sat down on a stool to pretend it was a +baby, and put it to sleep, with her eyes +continually fixed on the door of the Italian woman's +room. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-132"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-132.jpg" alt="Bryda after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat."> +<br> +Bryda after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat. +</p> + +<p> +Into this room Uncle Jack went presently, +and Bryda was left alone with Roger. Now +was the time to ask him about Liz and his +palace home, and if he was not sorry Liz had +died before he could go there. +</p> + +<p> +"Roger," she asked, not quite knowing how +to begin, "when did you say you were going home?" +</p> + +<p> +"As soon as I've finished the bit o' work I've +had set me here, missy. Maybe if I'd made +fewer mistakes over it I'd be there by now. +It's, oh! my clumsy hands, never fit to touch it +at all!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean your carpentering?" asked +Bryda, wondering. +</p> + +<p> +"Not quite that, Miss Bryda," answered the +old man, looking away through the little +window. "It's weaving work more than carpentering +work, making a bit of the Bride's beautiful +marriage dress. There's a-many weavers set to +that work, missy—ay, many they are! And +some waste the materials and do naught; an' +some put gold and silver thread into the pattern +anyhow, an' it's all mixed and spoiled. But +there's some good workers weave the bright +threads and the dull threads as they were meant +to be, and work real pearls on it, and seldom +make a fault. That's how my Liz worked; but +I've been a clumsy one—ah, sad and clumsy old +Roger's been all his life!" +</p> + +<p> +"When will the wedding be, Roger, and +where? Is it to be in the old church here?" +</p> + +<p> +Roger shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"When will the dress be finished, missy, the +Bride's beautiful dress that's so long a-makin'? +An' where will——" +</p> + +<p> +Here Roger was interrupted, much to Bryda's +grief, for Uncle Jack came out of the sick-room, +looking much less cheerful than when he went +in, and leading Beppo by the hand. He spoke +in a low tone to Roger, to whom Bryda saw him +give money, and wondered why he should, when +the old man was, she believed, so rich already. +Then beckoning to Bryda, he left the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Beppo, you shall go and play with +this young lady. Will you be very good?" he +asked, outside. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, si, si! I mean say, yes, sir!" answered +the little Italian, looking brightly at Bryda, +who seemed to him now quite an old friend, and +speaking his queer English. +</p> + +<p> +So Uncle Jack led them both into his blackberry +field, which was quite as good as he had +said. +</p> + +<p> +"It's simply beautiful!" Bryda said to Uncle +Jack as he went away, promising to return by +and by and fetch them. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, the two children were happy +enough, and their tongues wagged very fast +indeed. Beppo told his little companion about +his own country, where oranges, hanging on +dark-green trees, might be had for the trouble +of gathering; and about beautiful vineyards, +with clusters of white and purple grapes, and +the merry, merry vintage-time. Ah! if they +could go back to Italy again, he was sure his +dear, dear mother would be quite well again! +His father was dead, and the mother grew +poorer and poorer in her own country, and at +last she dreamed night after night that if she +would go north to England she would be able +to get money for herself and her boy, and come +home quite rich. But it was not so; people +did not seem to like barrel-organs much, and +the little money his mother had had all gone +to buy this instrument. +</p> + +<p> +Often they had been sent from houses with +angry words; often they had nowhere to sleep; +often they had nothing to eat. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had never known real hunger. She +had known how pleasant it was to come in +tired and hungry after a long expedition, and +how delicious bread and butter tasted then, +and jam! but to ache with hunger, and, when +ready to faint, not to have any food, how +terrible that must be! +</p> + +<p> +But very soon both Bryda and Beppo forgot +that there ever had been any troubles in the +world, they were so busy and so happy with +the blackberries. +</p> + +<p> +What a delightful amusement blackberry +hunting is! To see the basket filling fast with +the fat, sweet, well-flavored berries; to eat one +after another, because this one is crushed or +that one is too nice to part with, or a third may +have a different flavor since it grows on another +bush—how nice it is! We eat, and chatter, +and eat again, till fingers and mouths are stained +a dark-red color; and how we laugh and make +fun! Only one thing vexes us—that is, that +the very nicest, finest fellows always <i>will</i> grow +right up at the top of the hedge, just out of +reach even of our longest stick! They would +be so nice; but very often, after struggling a +good deal, scratching faces and hands, and +getting wet feet by slipping into the ditch, we +have to give it up and own ourselves beaten. +</p> + +<p> +Never mind! we have generally quite enough +for the jam or the puddings we want to make, +and in great triumph we go home, each boasting +of having gathered most! +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda and Beppo amused themselves, and +wandered on at last to the other end of the +field. Here there was a gate leading into +another field, where was a very high hedge with +what seemed to the children the best +blackberries they had seen. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-136"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-136.jpg" alt="Bryda and Beppo amused themselves wandering about the field."> +<br> +Bryda and Beppo amused themselves wandering about the field. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment they were through the bars of +the high gate and in the field. Just as they +entered it a loud shout came from before them; +and Bryda, looking across the field, saw the +terrible Moll Dawson waving her hands and +shouting to them. +</p> + +<p> +Terrified, she caught Beppo's hand, and +dragged him further into the field. On the +side where the blackberries were there were +also some trees, and beyond was a little wood. +They might hide in this, and be safe. If Moll +Dawson found them what would she not do? +She might take all their blackberries. She +might ill-treat them in some dreadful way. She +was so big and strong, and there was no help +near. What might she not do? +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda and her companion, poor Beppo! who +was frightened because she was frightened—though +he did not in the least know why—these +two fled further into the field, while Moll +Dawson still beckoned and called. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda, seeing that the girl did not come into +the field, took courage a little, and looked about +her. Oh, terror! if she was frightened before, +she was now as if rooted to the ground with +fear. +</p> + +<p> +Sullenly coming toward the poor children, +sniffing violently as he came, and glaring at +them with wicked eyes, was an immense bull! +</p> + +<p> +"Run, Beppo!" screamed Bryda. Beppo +looked at her a moment. "Run! I am coming!" +she cried; and Beppo was off like the wind +toward the gate where Moll Dawson beckoned. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda, looking round a moment, saw a great +board, with "Beware of the Bull!" nailed +against a tree in the middle of the field. +</p> + +<p> +Only for a moment she looked. Was there +any hope of her being able to climb a tree? +Which gate was nearest? The dreadful animal +was some little way off. If Bryda ran with +Beppo she might escape. In a second she was +off; but, alas! alas! the bull was after her. +</p> + +<p> +He came on bellowing and roaring. +</p> + +<p> +Beppo was safe. He reached the gate before +Bryda; but she, rushing half-blind with terror, +tripped as the fierce animal was close behind +her, and with a wild shriek fell flat on her +face a yard or two from the gate. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XII. +<br><br> +SOME USE FOR MOLL. +</h2> + +<p> +Flat on your face, and a raging bull coming +after you! That is a terrible position! It is +never wise to run races with a bull, or a horse, +or a greyhound, or anything else that has four +legs—except, perhaps, a very fat prize pig, or +the kitchen table. What can you, with two +legs, do against four legs? +</p> + +<p> +Besides, poor Bryda felt that there was no +one to help her; there was only Moll Dawson +near, of whom she was nearly as much afraid +as she was of the bull; and poor little helpless +Beppo, whose eyes grew, like those of the dog +in the fairy tale, as big as saucers with terror, +as he stood, panting but safe, on the right side +of the gate. +</p> + +<p> +Stay! there was one Friend, to whom Bryda +had long ago learned at her mother's knee to +look for help. She had, indeed, never been in +any such danger before, but mother had, and +many a time she had told Bryda of the time of +peril when the ship was said to be about to go +down on the broad Atlantic, and no help was +near—no human help, at least. And the chaplain +gathered together all who could or would +come, and cried to Him Who holds the seas in +the hollow of His hand. +</p> + +<p> +"In the midst of life we are in death: of +whom may we seek for succor, but of Thee, +O Lord? ... Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets +of our hearts; shut not Thy merciful ears unto +our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O +God most mighty, O holy and merciful +Saviour!" +</p> + +<p> +So the chaplain prayed, and the sea went +down, as once did the waves of Galilee when +the Lord of winds and waves willed it, and +mother and all the shipload were saved. And +so Bryda cried to the loving Saviour as she fell, +and to her, too, came help in the way she least +expected. For as the bull with angry red eyes +and dreadful sharp horns had nearly reached +her, when all hope seemed gone, and she had +not strength to try and rise, a shawl deftly +thrown fell right over the furious animal's head, +making him stop and then turn round, bellowing +frantically, as if he meant to ask who dared +to interfere in this way with his great will and +pleasure, which was to toss an insignificant +child. There were plenty of children in the +world, pray why should he not toss one if he so +pleased? he seemed to ask. +</p> + +<p> +While his majesty was expressing something +of this sort very noisily, a strong hand rather +roughly seized the fallen Bryda, picked her up, +and dragged her over or through—she never +knew which—the great, strong, five-barred +gate, where Beppo stood already, and watched, +white with terror, having had time to take +breath. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda was not white, she was red-hot +and breathless, and it was several seconds +before she could collect her scattered wits enough +to see the bull tearing the shawl to pieces, with +a strong wall and gate between himself and +her, and also to see that her preserver was no +other than that great object of her terror, Moll +Dawson. +</p> + +<p> +"Now then," said Moll roughly, as she tried +to pinch Bryda's hat into shape again. "You're +a foolish one, you are. Why didn't you stop +when you heard me screechin'?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because—I—because—" stammered Bryda, +who felt she could not tell Moll that the +"screechin'" had made her run as fast as +possible in the other direction from that Moll +intended. +</p> + +<p> +The girl burst into a loud laugh. "You're a +softy, upon my word! So you thought I'd eat +yer blackberries and yer blessed selves arter +them! But it was out of the fryin'-pan into +the fire this time, and no mistake. Oh, I see +ye blushing! Tell Moll Dawson no stories; +she's too 'cute for the likes o' you." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to tell stories," said poor Bryda, +with tears in her eyes. "Indeed, indeed I am +grateful. That bull would have torn me to +pieces, as he is tearing your shawl." +</p> + +<p> +And Bryda turned quite sick at the sight of +the great brute stamping on fragments of the +shawl, then, tearing them afresh with his horns, +bellowing all the time as if it was quite an +amusement to destroy something. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall ask grannie to give me a new shawl +for you, Moll," said Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't trouble your head, child; it's only a +old rag, bless you. So soon as I can earn a bit +o' money I'll have a jacket wi' beads all over, +like a young lady. Not as that they'll take me +for a lady—not even the boys at the factory. +Give me that pretty blue silk handkerchief on +your neck," went on Moll, with a sudden +change of tone. This was a command rather +than a request, to judge by the tone in which it +was spoken; but Bryda hesitated—mother +had given it to her just before she went away. +</p> + +<p> +The girl, seeing she hesitated, laughed again +loud and bitterly—a laugh without merriment. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! keep your things to yourself! I want +none of them! Silk handkerchiefs are not for +the likes of me, nor nothin' else that's +good—only sharp words and crooked looks." Here +Moll threw herself down on the nearest bank, +and tore some white queen-daisies to bits. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, take it, Moll!" said Bryda, as she +snatched off her handkerchief. "I am sure you +are welcome to it, and anything else I have;" +and with a gentle coaxing way she tied the +scarf round Moll Dawson's neck. The rough +girl looked more gracious; she bent her neck +to try and catch a glimpse of this bit of finery, +then looked up at Bryda again. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-145"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-145.jpg" alt="(Bryda giving Moll her handkerchief)"> +</p> + +<p> +"You've got a gran, too! I've seen her. +Does she beat you very often?" was her next +remark. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda and Beppo both stared open-mouthed +at this question. Grandmother would as soon +think of—— +</p> + +<p> +"Never!" said Bryda at last, very decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose she's kind, then?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda nodded expressively, +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my gran ain't," pursued poor Moll. +"Beats us with the poker, for all she pretended +to be so ill and weak when you brought soup +o' Sunday, missy. We're a bad lot, we are, all +but father; he'd be good if he could, I know." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Moll!" said Bryda, answering the girl's +miserable tone as much as her words, "why +don't you try and be good?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you're good?" said the girl; "it +is not hard for such as you to keep straight." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, I am not good," cried truthful +Bryda, remembering a great many faults at +once. "I'm so often in mischief or some trouble +that Uncle Jack says I live in a jar of mixed +pickles. But I do want to be good for all +that." +</p> + +<p> +"So you will some day, when you're a fine +lady. And, I warrant, you're not real bad now. +And you'd not be frightened of me any more?" +added Moll sadly, looking up at her. +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed; we'd be fond of you—wouldn't +we, Beppo?" said Bryda eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Beppo nodded and said, "Yes, yes." He was +proud of his knowledge of English, such as it +was. +</p> + +<p> +"No one's fond of me," said Moll, still more +sadly. "Jim used to be in a fashion, but he +wouldn't give his little finger to save me from +drowning. An' I'm too wicked for father to +love me—or any one else either." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda's eyes filled with tears. "God loves +you, Moll," she whispered gently. +</p> + +<p> +But Moll shook her head. "No, He don't. +God Almighty may care for the gentlefolks—seems +like it. But He don't care for such as us." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, He does," said Bryda earnestly, +quite sure this time that there was no doubt of +what she said being true. "See how he has +cared for Beppo and his mother!" +</p> + +<p> +"Did He tell the old carpenter to be good to +them?" asked Moll thoughtfully. "Well, it's +not much a poor man like him can do." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! he's not a poor man," burst out Bryda. +"He's a prince really; he told me so. And +his Father's a very great King, and will take +him to live in a palace some day soon." +</p> + +<p> +"And he have gold, much gold, hid safe from +de tieves," added Beppo in his broken English. +He and Bryda were sitting on the bank now +beside Moll Dawson. +</p> + +<p> +"Eh!" said Moll; "whoever would have thought it." +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite true," said Bryda, and went on to +tell all about Roger's inheritance. She was just +going on to tell all about his cat, and the funny +story of all the cats with excellent "characters," +when Uncle Jack's voice was heard in the +blackberry field calling her. +</p> + +<p> +At this sound Moll Dawson sprang up, +nodded a hasty farewell, and scrambled through +a small breach in the hedge behind, vanishing +in a moment, in spite of Bryda's entreaties to +her to stay, and let Uncle Jack hear how she +had saved them. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack's cheerful brown face grew very +white when he heard the story. +</p> + +<p> +"Say nothing to the grannies, Bryda," he +said. "Not because it is right to have secrets, +little maid; but because grandmother is too old +and weak to hear about anything that would +frighten her. But you and I will see what we +can do for Moll Dawson, and we will ask Cousin +Salome's advice, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Poor Moll Dawson! She had done one good +deed that day. It was a pity that in the +afternoon she should do, though not intentionally, +some sad harm. +</p> + +<p> +Her brother Jim worked as garden-boy with +Mr. Seymour (that was the name of Bryda's +grandfather). Moll, roaming idly about, met +him as he came from work in the evening, and +in her careless, gossiping way began to tell him +all that Bryda had said about old Roger's store +of treasure, which Moll said was money he had +hidden away somewhere in his poor little +cottage, like a miser. +</p> + +<p> +For Bryda did not yet understand, what is +perhaps plain to any one reading this, that the +old man, accustomed as he was to live alone, +thought so much of the heavenly country where +he hoped to go, and of the many mansions in +the Father's house, that he talked of them in a +way that seemed to the child to mean things on +earth. So the precious treasure of the love of +Christ, and of the hope that is in Him, seemed to +little Bryda to be perishing treasures of +earth—money and jewels. And what Bryda had told +Moll, Moll repeated, with improvements of her +own, to her bad brother. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! ah!" said Jim; "he's a chicken worth +plucking—eh, Moll? A knock on the old boy's +head, if he objects, and then share and share +alike for you and me." +</p> + +<p> +"You leave him alone, Jim," she answered; +for the longing to be better was working in the +poor girl's darkened mind, even as the spirit of +God rested on the earth when it was "without +form and void." Christ, who died for poor +Moll, was calling gently, and the hard heart +softened a little. +</p> + +<p> +"Boo," said Jim, with a hideous grimace +"You're afraid o' being found out. Split on +me and tell the police, will you? Yah, that's +like a woman." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll not have it, Jim," went on Moll steadily. +"I'm not afraid, that you know right well: I'm +a better thief than you by a long way, and +never was caught yet; but I'll have naught to +do with this—nor you either." +</p> + +<p> +"We'll see," said Jim, and held his tongue. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII. +<br><br> +MORE ABOUT BEPPO. +</h2> + +<p> +Bryda was not allowed to go alone to the +village again, since her nurse had told granny +she was missing on that unfortunate Sunday +afternoon, when the whole household had +turned out in pursuit of her. She had therefore +promised Beppo to meet him in the church +or churchyard at half-past five, and take him +to Cousin Salome. +</p> + +<p> +For the second time she found the poor little +Italian in bitter grief. It happened that a +great dark bank of clouds had covered the sky +for a great part of the day, and the church +inside was so dark that the sexton thought it +well to light up the building before the short +service, which was every evening during +summer at six, and in winter much earlier. +</p> + +<p> +Tonight the choir were practicing before +service, so when Beppo came to the church at +half-past five, to meet his little friend, the +building was lighted up. He came to see his +beautiful angel again to tell her, whom he still +thought a great and powerful friend, all that +had happened to him. But with the darkness +outside and the bright lights within, all the +colors had faded out of the window, so that, as +any one who goes into a lighted church by night +can see, there was only a dark blank space +where the beautiful angel had stood. And +the passionate little southern boy said to him +self that his friend had forsaken him, that she +was gone and would never come back again. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda felt that somehow he was quite wrong, +but how was she to explain, or to comfort him? +</p> + +<p> +First she told him his angel was not gone, +but had only faded from his sight, and that +with daylight he would find her again. But as +at this he only sobbed afresh, and said she <i>was</i> +gone, he could not see her, so she must be +gone, Bryda tried to explain that his friend was +no real person but only a beautiful picture. +This only made him very indignant; he knew +angels took care of people, his mother had +often told him so; did Bryda mean to tell him +there were no angels? +</p> + +<p> +Then Bryda, not knowing how to meet these +questions, proposed that he should come with +her at once to Cousin Salome; and, hand in +hand, the two children went up the long +shrubbery walk to find her. +</p> + +<p> +Salome greeted them with her own bright +smile, and made Beppo sit on a low stool by +her side. Soon the black eyes grew very bright +and round, when the child found that this English +lady had seen his own beautiful Italy, and +seemed to love it nearly as well as he did. +</p> + +<p> +Then, when Cousin Salome began to speak +to him in Italian, Beppo fairly jumped off his +stool and clapped his hands with delight. +</p> + +<p> +Here was a friend for him! Until one has +gone to a strange country and there been very +lonely and sorrowful, like poor little Beppo, it +is not easy to understand the delight that he +felt at hearing his own language spoken again. +</p> + +<p> +After a little time Bryda began to tell +Cousin Salome all about Beppo's troubles, and +especially the last, which seemed to the poor +little boy a very great one. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Beppo, your beautiful angel is not +gone," she answered, "she is only hidden from +you for a time by the darkness. But I will +tell you both, dear children, what this little +grief of Beppo's is like; and we can make it a +sort of parable. Bryda, you know what a +parable is?" +</p> + +<p> +"A story that means something, isn't it?" +said Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear. Well, when we are young, our +life is like a bright painted window, very lovely +to look at. But supposing our sky gets dark, +and some great trouble comes up like the +night——" +</p> + +<p> +"Something like your illness, cousin?" said +Bryda gently. +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, perhaps, dear. Or like Beppo's great +trouble, when his mother told him she must go +and be with God, and leave him alone. That +makes life seem very dark, doesn't it, Beppo?" +</p> + +<p> +Beppo nodded his head; he could not speak, +because a great lump came up in his throat and +made him feel as if he must choke. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, when the night is over," went on +Salome, "and the kind, bright sun comes back +again, our life looks beautiful again. But what +do people do when the church gets dark, Beppo?" +</p> + +<p> +"Light de lamps," said Beppo quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes! that is it! Light the lamps, and +then we forget all about the darkness outside. +Inside there is warmth and light and +brightness, and sweet hymns go up to the Great +White Throne of God. And life is beautiful +after all, though it is a little more sad and +solemn, as Beppo feels it now." +</p> + +<p> +Then Cousin Salome went on to talk to +Beppo in Italian about a Friend who never +would forsake him, and Who was always near, +though the dim eyes of men cannot see Him; +of One far more lovely and loving than the +angels, who were only servants in that great +House of the Father's, in which heaven and +and earth are contained. Only servants; but +He—this Friend Who was willing to be always +Beppo's friend, if the child would look to Him +and trust Him—He was the Son of the House, +and all things were His. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda listened, though she could not understand +the language; and as she listened she +thought she knew the use of lessons. +</p> + +<p> +"Lessons and doses," she had said, "were +supposed to do people good;" and now she saw, +at all events, one use of lessons. "If I could +talk Italian to Beppo, how nice it would be!" +</p> + +<p> +And to herself she resolved that when the +new governess came—it was to be very soon +now—she would work harder than ever before, +even over lists of dates. After all she might +find out some day that there was a use for +those, too! +</p> + +<p> +Beppo listened as to one who told him some +strange new thing. He had been taught by his +mother much about angels watching over him +with beautiful shining wings; but very little, +almost nothing, about the loving Saviour Who +was once a little boy like himself, and Who +grew up to be the Friend and Helper of any +one who was in distress, and to Whom the little +troubles of His little children were as important +as the great and bitter griefs that crush the +hearts of men. +</p> + +<p> +Poor little boy! he drank in every word, +with great eyes fixed on Cousin Salome's face, +and it seemed to him, as it had seemed to +Bryda while she listened to the vicar's sermon, +that there never could be anything half so +sweet as trying to please this loving Lord +Jesus, Who was such a kind Friend. +</p> + +<p> +But the invalid began to grow tired, and +Bryda saw that she could not talk much longer. +So she got up suddenly, and carried off Beppo, +and Cousin Salome was left to her needful rest. +</p> + +<p> +It was settled first of all, though, that Bryda +should give Beppo lessons in reading every day. +</p> + +<p> +"Reading and weeding!" said Uncle Jack. +"I have made love to Hayes the gardener, and +he has promised to let Beppo come and weed in +the garden; and so the little chap can earn +something, and not feel quite such a burden on +old Roger." +</p> + +<p> +Beppo's mother was not to be long a burden +on any one. One night, while Beppo slept, and +while it seemed that she slept, too, old Roger, +stealing in on tiptoe, found that she was indeed +asleep, wrapped in that last long sleep which +no evil dreams disturb. She would never be +hungry, or thirsty, or tired again, for God had +taken His child, who, though ignorant enough, +had been faithful to Him, to that rest of which +we say, "He giveth His beloved sleep." +</p> + +<p> +Close by that grave, with the one word "Liz," +they made another, and on that there was only +one word, too—"Speranza." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-159"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-159.jpg" alt="Only one word, too--"Speranza.""> +<br> +Only one word, too—"Speranza." +</p> + +<p> +Very few of the village people knew what +Cousin Salome told Bryda, that the beautiful +name of the poor Italian meant "Hope." +</p> + +<p> +Old Roger would not part with Beppo. He +was a lonesome old man, he said, and it would +be a charity to let the boy stay with him. +Beppo could weed and learn to read for the +present, and as soon as he knew the language +better he could go to school in the village. +Every one was well pleased with the plan, for, +though some of the village people thought old +Roger rather odd, from the way he had of talking +about heaven as if it were quite near, and +of Bible people as if they were still alive, yet no +one doubted his goodness; and kind Cousin +Salome promised to pay for Beppo's schooling. +So it seemed that the poor little boy, after his +long wanderings, would have a happy home and +kind friends, and would soon forget his troubles. +Bryda was at first very patient with her +pupil, who, to do him justice, was not stupid; +but what puzzled her most was that it did not +seem natural to the Italian child to say the +English words as she did. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Jack, coming one day into the room +where these lessons were going on, found Beppo +with tearful eyes, while Bryda appeared to have +at that moment thrown the reading-book to the +other end of the room, where it lay looking like +a book in disgrace in the corner, gaping wide +open, with a leaf or two scattered on the way, +for it was an old one. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-160"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-160.jpg" alt="Bryda appeared to have thrown the reading book to the other end of the room."> +<br> +Bryda appeared to have thrown the reading book to the other end <br> +of the room. +</p> + +<p> +"What is this noise about?" said Uncle Jack, +with a face of amusement; "what's the matter now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Beppo's <i>too</i> stupid, Uncle Jack—and I—I +lost patience." +</p> + +<p> +"Lost, a valuable temper," said Uncle Jack, +with a serious face; "at least I mean 'Lost, a +good temper, of no value to any one but the +owner. Is very cheerful, and marked with a +capital B. The finder, if poor, shall be +handsomely rewarded on bringing it to——' +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Don't</i>, Uncle Jack!" Bryda stood on tiptoe +and put her hands over his mouth, while Beppo +picked up the book and put in the scattered +leaves. "But really I can't make him understand +some things. He spells c-a-t, and then +calls it 'cart,' and when at last I get him to +say 'cat,' he goes on m-a-t, 'mart!' +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose Miss Quillnib never had any such +worries in teaching Bryda?" said Uncle Jack +slyly. Bryda looked a little ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +"But do you know that it is natural to him +to say cart and mart instead of cat and mat, and +you will have to teach him gradually that +English does not sound like Italian, Bryda? +Now suppose, by way of variety, that <i>you</i> say +this simple little sentence after me: +</p> + +<p> +"'Aldiborontiphoscophornio!—where left you +Chrononhotonthologos?" +"'Aldiboronti'—I don't know any more!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>That's</i> not English, Uncle Jack!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I assure you it comes out of an English +play. So, naturally, the actor has to say it. +Try something easier: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper;<br> + A peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked.<br> + If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper,<br> + Where's the peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked?"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Which of us three will say that very fast +three times without a mistake?" +</p> + +<p> +They all tried, and all failed, and the lesson +ended in such shouts of laughter that both the +grannies hobbled in—helping each other—to +see what the fun was. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV. +<br><br> +BEPPO IN TROUBLE. +</h2> + +<p> +A far worse trouble than "cat" or "mat" +came to poor Beppo a few days afterward. He +worked away diligently and steadily in the +garden and was always delighted to bring home +his little earnings—six silver shillings every +week—and give them to old Roger. Hayes, +the gardener, was kind to him, and so was every +one, except Jim Dawson, who also worked in +the garden. +</p> + +<p> +But then, Jim Dawson was kind to no one, +not even to his sister Moll, for whom he seemed +to have a sort of rough affection. Still, Jim +Dawson did his work well enough; he was +very strong and got through a good deal, if he +<i>did</i> idle sometimes when Hayes' back was +turned. So Hayes was glad to have him. +</p> + +<p> +Now Hayes had a peach tree of which he +was particularly proud. It was like his child +to him, for he had grown it from a very little +thing, and had watched it day by day in the +spring, when its beautiful pink buds became +pinky-white flowers, and then dropped, and gave +way to little hard balls, green and round, that +would one day be peaches. He had taken off +some of these, so that the rest might be finer, +and now there were just four beautiful velvet +peaches on the little tree. Such beauties they +were! and soon would come the fruit-show; +and how delightful it would be to see in the +county paper that "Mr. Hayes, head-gardener +to Mr. Seymour, had the first prize for a +splendid dish of peaches grown out of doors!" +</p> + +<p> +Every morning and every evening, and several +times in the day, came Mr. Hayes looking after +those treasures of his. +</p> + +<p> +Can you fancy what Mr. Hayes' good-tempered +face looked like when one day, about +twelve o'clock, he came past, having already +paid "his babies" a visit once that morning +and found only three? Only three! The +finest of all was gone; neatly gathered from +the tree; so that there could be no suspicion +of accident in the matter. It was too +bad. +</p> + +<p> +Stooping down, Mr. Hayes carefully examined +the ground to see if there were any traces of +footsteps by which he could discover the thief. +</p> + +<p> +In one or two places the ground looked a +little disturbed, as if some one had hastily +covered over the traces of steps with some loose +earth. Certainly a cunning thief had been at +work, and Mr. Hayes' rage grew more and more +violent; but his rage was quite useless. Storm +at the two boys, Jim and Beppo, he could, and +he did; question all the other gardeners, and +the grooms, and John the coachman, and the +kitchenmaid, and the laundrymaid, and the girl +who fed and plucked the fowls; all this he did, +but nothing could bring back his peach, and +every one seemed equally innocent in the matter. +Mr. Hayes was very angry, and for two days he +remained so, spending much of his time in +walking about that part of the garden, with his +sharp eyes very wide open, and a thick stick in +his strong hand. +</p> + +<p> +Woe betide the unlucky thief who had gone +near the peach tree on those days! +</p> + +<p> +But by the third day Mr. Hayes' wrath had +cooled a little; besides, he had very good news +from a brother in Australia by the morning +post; and so on that day he took a look at the +three peaches that were left, and then went +away whistling "Rule Britannia!" It was +about the only tune he knew, and he whistled +it whenever things went well. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pity that a dark cloud should come +up again that day over the sunny landscape of +Mr. Hayes' broad red face; but it is a fact that, +on coming again to visit his darlings, he found +no longer three, but only two; and under the +brick wall were again traces of steps carefully +dusted over with earth, as before. +</p> + +<p> +If Mr. Hayes had been angry before, he was +now simply beside himself with passion. He +did not storm, neither did he stamp this +time—he was too angry for that. +</p> + +<p> +Striding along the garden walk, without any +distinct idea of where he meant to go or what +to do, Mr. Hayes encountered Beppo, who rose +up from his weeding, and looked as if he were +about to speak. But the child shrank from the +furious face that looked down at him—shrank +away, and grew pale with fear. +</p> + +<p> +Hayes looked at him steadily for a moment, +then spoke fiercely, though quietly, trying to +control himself. "Well, boy, what have you +to say for yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +Guilt was clearly painted on Beppo's face, +and in every line of his trembling figure as he +stammered out. "P'ease—Mr. Haye—I—so +sorry. Not—mean—do it, sir! +</p> + +<p> +"Not mean!" answered Hayes in a voice like +suppressed thunder. "Sorry! what can your +sorrow do, I'd like to know? Do you know +what you have done? mischief that can never +be mended!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir," said Beppo humbly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir! No excuse! You little foreign +brat! you come along o' me, and get the best +thrashing you ever had. Come on, I say!" +</p> + +<p> +He seized Beppo by the collar, and marching +him in front, strode toward the garden +tool-house. There were plenty of sticks there that +would answer his purpose of severely punishing +the wretched little criminal, whose cries, moreover, +would attract less notice there, he thought. +</p> + +<p> +Coming toward them, the angry man and his +prisoner met Bryda, singing merrily. +</p> + +<p> +Her song soon stopped when she saw the +poor little criminal in the strong grasp of +Mr. Hayes who was policeman, judge, jury, lawyers, +jailer, and executioner, all at once. +</p> + +<p> +"What <i>is</i> the matter? What has he done?" +she gasped, quite frightened. +</p> + +<p> +Hayes stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"Done! The little varmint!" giving Beppo +a shake as he held him still. "Done, Miss +Bryda! Will he dare look you in the face +again? Stolen my peaches, two of them, one +after the other—heartless, greedy, thankless +little monster as he is! Stolen my peaches that +I hoped would get the prize—ay, he can't +deny it!" +</p> + +<p> +"I not stolen them!" cried Beppo, in bitter +distress. "Oh, Miss Bryde! I not—I never +done <i>that</i>! I often bad boy—never stole! +Never! No! No! No!" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda remembered the baker's roll, and quite +believed him. He was hungry then, but he did +not steal. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hayes! Indeed, indeed, I am sure he +is telling the truth!" she said earnestly. "Please +don't be angry with him till you are quite sure, +at least." +</p> + +<p> +"Lor', Miss Bryda," said the gardener +impatiently, "you're that taken up with the sly +little rascal you don't believe butter would melt +in his mouth. But he spoke up and said he +was sorry when I taxed him with it first. It's +only the sight of you makes him bold, thinking +you'll take his part through thick and thin. A +sneaking, lying little thief! Never does he do +another day's work here!" +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Bryde," said Beppo, with flashing eyes +in which there were no tears, "I not—I never +did—not could—think I—steal—tell lies! I +speak de truth now, and then, both, only I did +think Mr. Hayes found something else, and I +did want tell him——" +</p> + +<p> +Here Jim Dawson, who had been looking on +at the little scene, stepped up to Beppo +suddenly, slipped his hand into Beppo's pocket, +and drew out a peach-stone. +</p> + +<p> +Silence fell on the little group. Bryda, +distressed beyond words, looked from one to the +other. Beppo, with a strange expression of +face, looked at Jim, who stood grinning; and +Hayes, after looking at the stone for some +seconds, as if to be perfectly certain of Beppo's +crime, pushed his hand more firmly into the +boy's collar, strode to the garden-house, put him +in, and said, before he closed the door, "Now, +my lad, it's for your good. You bide there and +think of the flogging you'll get so soon as I've +time to give it to you." +</p> + +<p> +Locking the door on the outside, he strode +away, with the key in his pocket, leaving Beppo +to his miserable expectations of the flogging +that he would get; no light punishment it would +be from the heavy hand of an angry man. +</p> + +<p> +If Beppo was guilty, then miserable enough +he was likely to be, with the burdens of a theft +and a lie on his mind, and the prospect of +punishment to come. +</p> + +<p> +If, as he said, though appearances were +against him, he was innocent, then he need not +be very miserable, for a good conscience would +be his companion, and the Friend of little +children would send him comfort. +</p> + +<p> +Crouching down in a wretched little heap on +the floor, he remained so for some time, not +crying, not trembling, but apparently thinking. +Then slowly rising, he knelt down in a corner, +and, clasping his hands, looked through the +little window up to the blue sky. +</p> + +<p> +He need not look to any beautiful angel +now, whose help he used to hope for. He had +another—better Friend, and quietly he said, +half aloud, "Kind Lord Jesus, don't forget +Beppo. I in great trouble, Lord Jesus!" +</p> + +<p> +Was he guilty, or not? We shall see. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XV. +<br><br> +UP A TREE. +</h2> + +<p> +What did Bryda do when her little playmate +was in such trouble? Quite as miserable +as if she herself were the criminal, she stood +still for a few minutes in the garden path. +Would there be any chance of coaxing Hayes +to forgive Beppo? That was not very likely. +Mr. Hayes, with a face that was simply one +frown all over, had walked off in the other +direction, and his very back frowned as she +looked after him. No, she could not appease +Hayes; but some one else might persuade him +that Beppo was not guilty. Who could do +this? Should Bryda go indoors and tell the +grannies all about it? That would not be of +much use. It would take so long to make them +understand; and perhaps even then they would +not wish to interfere. Uncle Jack? He had +gone out. Cousin Salome would be very sorry; +but she could not come out and talk to Hayes. +</p> + +<p> +There was old Roger! +</p> + +<p> +Bryda would run off to him and soon get him +to come up with her and talk to the angry +Hayes. But she must be quick; she did not +know how soon Hayes might carry out his +threat of coming back to punish the poor little +prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda firmly believed he was innocent. She +did not understand why Mr. Hayes said he had +confessed to having stolen the peaches; if he +had done so she was sure it was from fright. +</p> + +<p> +"And I am sure Hayes' face was enough to +frighten any one," she said to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Without stopping to think any more, off +Bryda ran to the village, as fast as her feet +could carry her. +</p> + +<p> +She did not go by the shrubbery walk, but +down the lane that led from the bottom of the +garden past Farmer Veitch's house. +</p> + +<p> +This farm was about halfway between the +garden and the village, and Bryda, out of breath, +walked slowly as she passed it. To her great +terror she heard behind the hedge a low, deep +growl. That was Farmer Veitch's bulldog, and +he was known to be savage. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-174"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-174.jpg" alt="(Beppo praying)"> +</p> + +<p> +Poor Bryda was not as brave as she used to +be, since her adventure with the bull, and this +low growl made her start violently. Well, if +the gate was only shut the bulldog might growl +on till to-morrow behind it, and she would be +quite safe. +</p> + +<p> +But no, the gate was open just a little +way—quite enough to let a bulldog through—even a +pretty big one, as this was; and in another +moment the animal was at Bryda's heels, +sniffing at her, and still growling in a horrid, +savage way that was worse than a torrent of +barks, and showing those white teeth of his +that could give such dreadful bites. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Bryda's courage quite gave way. To +run was no use, the dog could run faster. +Screaming would no doubt make him bite her +at once, instead of taking his time about it. +It was as bad as the adventure with Paddy; +and what made it worse was that Bryda was +strictly forbidden to go into this lane at all, +because there had been some infectious illness +at Farmer Veitch's. A bull<i>dog</i> seemed as bad +as a bull. +</p> + +<p> +Should she try the power of the human +eye? She had heard various stories of people +who had subdued savage dogs by simply +gazing at them fixedly till the brute nature +quailed before the human intellect. +</p> + +<p> +But that must require wonderful courage; +and probably it would not answer at all if the +gazer were to look at all afraid. And poor +little Bryda was simply terrified. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment she caught sight of a tree +close to her that had low branches, most +convenient for climbing. Dogs cannot climb trees, +and the cats know it—just as cats cannot fly, +and the birds know it, and act accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +In another moment, with a breathless spring +and scramble Bryda was up in the tree. The +dog sprang at her, and tore a large piece of her +frock, but she was unhurt; and you may suppose +she felt glad that there was only a bit +of stuff in the sharp white teeth instead of a +bit of herself! +</p> + +<p> +She lost a shoe, too, in the scramble; and the +dog scratched it and snuffed at it. Breathless, +torn as to garments, with one shoeless foot, she +climbed up a little higher, so as to be quite +safe, and looked down at the dog. +</p> + +<p> +Of course he would go away now there was +no chance of biting her. And then she would +jump down and run for her life to the village. +From her secure height she grew bold, and +spoke valiantly to the dog. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor fellow! good dog, then! Go home, +sir! Go to kennel! Home, sir!" +</p> + +<p> +The dog only growled the more, but did not +go away at all. He did not seem to care to go +home. Well, then, perhaps he would like to +hunt cats, after the cruel fashion of dogs? +</p> + +<p> +"Hunt!" went on Bryda. "Good boy! Cats! +Puss, puss! Cats! After them! catch them, +good dog!" +</p> + +<p> +But this bulldog was a strange animal. He +did not seem to care for cats; but curled himself +round at the foot of the tree, and kept his +eye on Bryda, who was really almost as much a +prisoner as Beppo. +</p> + +<p> +Really, this was dreadful—when Bryda was +in such a hurry, too! Perhaps she would not +be in time to save Beppo. Where were all the +people of the farm? She would call loudly to +them: "Mrs. Veitch! Farmer!" +</p> + +<p> +Directly she began to call, the dog jumped +up barking, and sprang at her. True, he could +not quite reach her, but he came dreadfully +close, and his barks were enough to drown her +calling. +</p> + +<p> +By and by, however, the farmhouse door +opened, and an old woman looked out. She +was the only person near, for it was harvest, +and all the men were busy, and all the women +binding sheaves with them. Her dim eyes +caught sight of a figure in the tree, and when +Bryda called again to her she laughed and +shook her fist. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-178"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-178.jpg" alt="Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook her fist."> +<br> +Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook her fist. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay!" she said. "Young thieves from +the village arter farmer's apples! Well, you +bide there a bit, it'll gie ye something to +remember." +</p> + +<p> +So saying, and laughing to herself over this +capital punishment for apple-stealers, she went +back into the house and shut the door. +</p> + +<p> +So there was Bryda, like Mahomet's coffin, +hung between the sky and earth; and there +she sat, feeling very angry with the old woman, +very much vexed about Beppo, and very much +afraid of the dog. +</p> + +<p> +That amiable animal made himself a sentinel, +and declined to move. No scolding, no coaxing +on Bryda's part, had any effect. There he was +and there he meant to be; and Bryda sat on a +branch, swinging her long black legs, and +wishing she had wings, so that she might fly away +from all her present troubles. +</p> + +<p> +She might have been rather amused but for +two things that much distressed her. One +was Beppo's peril, and the other the knowledge +that the grannies would be vexed at her being +in the lane at all, when she had for such a good +reason been forbidden to go there. +</p> + +<p> +At last she felt so downhearted that she was +very much inclined to cry, but that she would +not do, because the horrible dog would see her, +and probably he would feel pleased. So there +she remained. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder where Bryda is?" said grandmother. +She had been waiting ever so long for +her knitting, for which she had sent her +granddaughter to the garden. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope she is not in mischief," said Mr. Seymour. +</p> + +<p> +"Most likely she forgot," said Uncle Jack, +who had come in again. "I will go to the +garden and look for the little puss." +</p> + +<p> +In the garden he did not see Hayes, but met +Jim Dawson, and asked if he had seen Miss +Bryda. Jim told him that she had gone down +the lane, and off he went in pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +You may suppose Bryda was glad to hear his +firm steps on the hard ground, and to call to +him as he came down the lane without fear of +his going off and leaving her. +</p> + +<p> +But Uncle Jack, though he sent the dog off +and helped her down, suppressed any inclination +he may have had to laugh, and asked for +grandmother's knitting very gravely. Nor did +he seem to think that Beppo's threatened +punishment justified her disobedience. +</p> + +<p> +"If he stole the fruit he deserved to be +punished, and you ought not to try and screen him, +Bryda. You may be sure Hayes would be careful +not to punish him else. He has boys of +his own." +</p> + +<p> +So Bryda, very downhearted, walked by his +side back to the house. He would not interfere, +nor let her go on to Roger, and all she +could do was to fetch the knitting, and hope +the grannies would forgive her disobedience. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps the reason why Bryda, with the best +intentions, got into trouble when she least +expected, was because she did not stop to think, +but went off in a great hurry to carry out her +plans. +</p> + +<p> +By the time she reached the garden, three +quarters of an hour, or perhaps an hour, had +passed. She went straight to the tool-house. +Beppo was not there. She called, and no one +answered; the gardeners had gone to their +dinner, so Bryda, rather slowly and sadly, went +in to get ready for her own. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI. +<br><br> +POOR MOLL! +</h2> + +<p> +While Bryda was running wildly down the +lane Cousin Salome had a very unusual sort of +visitor. An untidy girl, who had taken more +time to put ribbons in her hair than to brush it, +and whose necklace of glass beads matched ill +with her unmended frock, stood by the couch +of the gentle invalid. It had taken a long while +for Moll Dawson to gather courage to come up +to the house, though Cousin Salome had sent +many messages by her maid; but here she was +at last, looking half-impudent, half-bashful, and +altogether uncomfortable, till Cousin Salome +gradually melted her shyness by talking about +the adventure of the bull, and about Bryda, and +Beppo, and various other things. Then gently +she began to talk about the girl's own past life, +and again Moll spoke in the hard, defiant voice, +which told how truly unhappy she was. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you ever go to church?" asked Cousin Salome. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I went into a church once," said Moll +thoughtfully, "'an' I heard a preachin', and the +parson talked about children of wrath, and the +bad place waiting for 'em." +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-183"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-183.jpg" alt="(Moll crying at Salome's bedside)"> +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, I can read and write after a fashion," +she went on, in answer to Cousin Salome's +questions. "I went to school only half-time, and +worked in the factory the other, so as not to +have too much school." +</p> + +<p> +And Moll drew herself up, and laughed and +showed her white teeth, and was, to all appearance, +quite proud of being so naughty. But all +the same she gave a little sigh as she looked +again at the invalid's white, sweet face, and +pitying eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I reckon you've always been good," she +went on rapidly. "It isn't hard for the likes of +you neither." +</p> + +<p> +She looked round the white, quiet room, and +Cousin Salome looked, too, and she sighed a +moment before she smiled again with a happier +thought. Ah, there were temptations in that +still, comfortable room, too. Evil spirits would +enter even there, and whisper discontent, and +fretfulness, and impatience to the sufferer who +had lain there so long; but Salome smiled again, +because she knew that the promise was for her +and for poor Moll, "When thou passest through +the waters I am with thee." +</p> + +<p> +And in her gentle, low-toned voice she began +to tell the poor ignorant girl of that good +Shepherd who gave his life for the sheep. +</p> + +<p> +"Even for me!" said Moll, at last, and buried +her face in her hands and sobbed. It seemed +too good to be true. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-185"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-185.jpg" alt="(Moll crying at Salome's bedside)"> +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome's maid, hearing the sobs, came +from the next room, fearing that the invalid +would be over-tired; and, by way of making a +change of conversation, began to tell how she +had been in the garden, of Hayes' wrath; and +Beppo's punishment. +</p> + +<p> +"And no wonder he should turn out badly, +ma'am," she said; "they tramping foreigners +aren't likely to come to good. Let him go to +the Union, I say." +</p> + +<p> +Moll Dawson had listened attentively. Now +she rose, put on her crushed hat, and smoothed +its showy but shabby red feather. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll come again—may I, miss?" she said. +"It's like going to heaven to come in here." +</p> + +<p> +Salome gave her a ready welcome, and Moll's +heavy step became a careful tiptoe walk as she +crossed the room. +</p> + +<p> +Once outside the house, however, Moll walked +fast enough to the garden, and there went all +round the walks till she found Mr. Hayes. He +had finished his round of the vineries, and was +going to the tool-house, to carry out his threat +to Beppo, when this wild looking girl met him. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Hayes," she said, "you let that foreign +boy go, will you? He never took your peaches, +no more nor you did yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" said Hayes, looking at her with no +pleased eyes, as she spoke thus boldly; "perhaps +you know who did take them, if you're so +sure it wasn't Beppo?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps I do!" retorted Moll coolly; "anyhow, +you'll not flog a boy as hasn't done +anything, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Unless I know who was the thief I shall +suppose it was Beppo," replied Hayes sulkily. +"Why, he owned it himself; but if you can +prove some one else did it, and that the stone +came into his pocket quite by accident, why, +then, of course, I shall believe you, Moll Dawson." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke in tones of utter contempt; indeed, +poor Moll was not often treated with much respect. +</p> + +<p> +She stood still a moment, with her eyes cast +down; then, as Hayes began to move, with a +great effort she said, "Well, there, then, I took +them; will that satisfy you?" +</p> + +<p> +"You did?" said Hayes, scowling at her. "I +fancy you are telling lies, Moll Dawson; they +come easier to you than the truth, I know." +</p> + +<p> +Moll colored crimson, but did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you put the stone into Beppo's +pocket so as he should be accused," went on +Hayes, looking searchingly at her. +</p> + +<p> +Moll nodded in silence. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know who to believe, or what to +to believe," he answered; "I <i>know</i> somebody's +telling lies, and perhaps it's both of you. Anyhow——" +</p> + +<p> +Here he walked off to the tool-house and +unlocked the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Come out!" he said roughly. And Beppo +came looking quite collected now. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, young un," said Hayes in a very +much softened tone, "I've boys of my own, and +I'd be sorry to flog one of them if he didn't +deserve it. Just you look up at me now, and +tell me the whole truth." +</p> + +<p> +Beppo looked up in the gardener's face, and +his dark eyes were calm and clear; he did +not look like a criminal. +</p> + +<p> +His broken English was rather funny, but +Hayes soon understood that he had in truth +done a small piece of mischief. His foot +slipped as he was working, and he fell against +a melon-frame and broke a pane of glass. A +cut on one finger showed that he spoke the +truth. As to the peaches, he would rather starve +than touch one of them. "And I very sorry +for you, Mr. Hayes," he added. +</p> + +<p> +Hayes was quite touched. +</p> + +<p> +"Go home and get your dinner. I quite +believe you, my boy," he said. "Stay, come in +and have a bit of dinner with my wife and +young folks." +</p> + +<p> +Beppo went, and from that day forward had +a steady friend in Hayes. +</p> + +<p> +"As for you, Moll Dawson," said the +gardener sharply, "you get along out of this. +And if ever I catch you anywhere near the +garden again you'll go before the magistrate, +as sure as my name's Hayes." +</p> + +<p> +Moll turned away without a word, and went +slowly back to the village. +</p> + +<p> +Light was coming slowly to her dark mind +as the dawn comes on a troubled sea. She had +told a lie to Hayes—for what reason we shall +see; but she did not understand yet that it +was a sin. "A white lie," she called it, a lie +told for a good purpose. Thinking over all +that Cousin Salome had said to her, she went +slowly home and sought her brother Jim. Close +to the house she met him. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim," she said, "I've told a lie to save you +to-day; now you do something for me." +</p> + +<p> +"All right, old girl," said Jim, indifferently; +"one lie more or less don't matter much, I +reckon. What do you want out of me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I said <i>I</i> stole the peaches, instead of you," +said Moll, going on with her story. +</p> + +<p> +"My stars!" cried Jim. "What a go! I +wonder old Hayes didn't half murder you! +What did he say?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never you mind," said Moll. "I've got you +out of a hole, and that's enough for you. Now +you do something for me—tit for tat, Jim." +</p> + +<p> +"What's up now?" asked her brother, struck +by a gentleness in her tone which was quite new. +</p> + +<p> +"Leave yon old carpenter and his coin alone," +said she. "Look here, Jim, I never asked you +to leave a good job like that for me before, +but do you give up robbing him, there's a good +lad." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, whatever has come to the girl? And +you the first to put it in my head to get in at +night, and make the old chap show where he +keeps those miserly savings o' his you say he +hides in his house!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you let him alone, Jim," entreated Moll. +"I know you and Harry Crowther mean to get +in to-morrow night, and no one'll hinder, for the +old man's house stands a bit away. I'll not +help in the job, Jim, and if you give up too——" +</p> + +<p> +"What will you give me?" sneered Jim. +"Make it worth my while, Moll, and I might +think of it." +</p> + +<p> +"How can I?" said Moll. "Give it up, Jim. +Suppose you got caught?" +</p> + +<p> +"You mean to round on me!" said Jim +savagely, seizing her arm as he spoke, and +crushing it in his strong fingers till Moll had to +set her teeth not to scream aloud. "You want +to get your brother a nice pleasant time in jail! +You're a nice loving sister, you are! Now, look +you here, Moll; you do that, and I'll break +every bone in your body as soon as ever I get +out again." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not <i>quite</i> so mean," answered Moll; "I +never would get you into trouble, Jim, and that +you know as well as I do. But I'll do my best +to get you and Harry Crowther, too, to let an +old man alone. What's to be done with yon +little dark-eyed chap, him they call Beppo, or +some such outlandish name, if you get all the +old man's savings? Precious little you care who +starves so long as you get all you want. Come +now, do this one thing for me, like a good lad, +Jim," she went on, with a rough effort at coaxing him. +</p> + +<p> +But Jim only told her to mind her own business. +So Moll went away and left him. +</p> + +<p> +All the rest of the day she kept wondering +how this robbery could be prevented, and at +last, as the evening closed in, an idea struck her. +If no inducement could prevail on Jim, she had +this plan to fall back on. +</p> + +<p> +She would not "round on" Jim; that is, she +would tell no tales. She would not tell tales, +or give warning to his intended victims, but she +had an idea of her own. Whether she was +able to carry it out with success we shall see. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII. +<br><br> +"WHERE THIEVES BREAK THROUGH." +</h2> + +<p> +Two or three nights after this, Roger and +Beppo—who was now as happy as possible—had +gone to bed quietly as usual, and had both +fallen asleep, when Beppo awoke with a start, +and sat up in bed. He did not know at first +why he had awakened so suddenly, and he could +hear, by the old carpenter's quiet and regular +breathing, that he still slept. But Roger was +a little deaf, and the noise that woke Beppo was +not loud enough to rouse him. It was, indeed, +not meant to rouse anybody, for, as Beppo was +falling to sleep again, he heard it once more, and +this time sat up in bed and strained his ears to +catch the sound. +</p> + +<p> +There could be no doubt about it: stealthy +footsteps were moving outside; whispering +voices speaking close to the house; then the +latch was lifted very gently, and let down with +a little click. Poor Beppo, sitting up in bed, +felt his heart beat so loud that he fancied the +people outside must hear it, although the room +in which he slept was divided from the kitchen +into which thieves were trying to break. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he sat overcome by terror, but +it was only for a moment. Quietly and quickly +he stole out of bed, and proceeded to dress +himself as noiselessly as possible. He would +creep out of another window—the window of +the bedroom—without disturbing Roger! And +in order to delay the thieves, in case they should +get into the kitchen before he could bring help, +he bolted the bedroom door on the inside. +Then, not waiting for shoes or stockings, he +gently opened the casement window, and began +to try and wriggle through. +</p> + +<p> +It was no easy matter, especially as the +window was very small, and he dared not make a +sound. The house stood so much apart that he +felt it would be useless to call aloud for help; +it was probable no one would hear him except +the thieves, who would not give him time for +more than one shout. All the neighbors would +be sleeping the sound sleep of working men and +women, and the only chance of rousing them +would be to hammer on their doors and rattle +their windows till they woke. A policeman +would take longer to find. Beppo's hasty plan +was to run for the nearest neighbors—John +Broome, the blacksmith, and Alick Thornicroft, +the shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +With much difficulty he was squeezing +through the tiny window, when, in the faint +starlight—for the night was very dark, except +for the pale rays of a few stars shining between +spaces in the clouds—he caught sight of a most +extraordinary object. The window of the +bedroom through which he was wriggling was at +the side of the house, and he could hear the +thieves working away with some tools to force +open the front window. Suddenly the slight +noise they were making ceased, and it seemed +as if they too were looking at the very strange +figure that now appeared in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly it came out of the shade of some dark, +thick trees; a very tall, straight figure, with one +arm extended, pointing to the place where the +housebreakers stood. +</p> + +<p> +Beppo, half out of the window, gazed, horror-stricken, +at this object, which, with the superstition +of his country, he felt sure was an evil +spirit, come to terrify, or perhaps to carry off, the +evildoers. They seemed frightened too, for as +the figure very slowly moved along, not, +however, coming near as yet, Beppo heard them +whispering to each other. +</p> + +<p> +"Let's go home; I don't like the look of that—that thing!" +</p> + +<p> +"Who's afraid?" sneered the other voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush! it's speaking," said the first. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim Dawson," said a low, deep tone that +seemed to come from the figure, "I know you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Come away, Jim," whispered one of the +thieves. "I'm off." +</p> + +<p> +"Stop, Harry Crowther!" said the figure. +</p> + +<p> +"Harry, you simpleton, come back!" cried +Jim Dawson in the same low, cautious tone in +which he had all along spoken. "Look here, lad." +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke he stooped and picked up a +heavy and rather sharp stone, which with his +whole strength he flung at the figure that +stood, still pointing at him, only a few yards +off. +</p> + +<p> +When the stone struck the figure, it fell with +a deep groan to the earth; and it lay in a +confused heap, motionless. +</p> + +<p> +"Well done, Jim!" said Harry Crowther; +and the worthy couple went to work again on +the window frame. +</p> + +<p> +Beppo delayed no longer, but got quietly out +of the window, dropped carefully to the ground, +stole away till he reached a dark shadow, +avoiding the spot where the heap lay, and then was +off like the wind, down the lane, and up the +blacksmith's garden path. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, the burglars easily made for +themselves an entrance through the window, and +went searching the kitchen, poking into every +nook and corner to find the old carpenter's +hidden riches. +</p> + +<p> +"This is no go!" said Crowther at last, +finding absolutely nothing but a very old silver +watch, which he promptly pocketed. "We +must wake the old boy, and ask him where +the 'swag' is." +</p> + +<p> +"Right, mate! Misers always have some +queer hole of their own to put their tin in," +answered Jim, still hunting about the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of a saucepan falling, which Jim's +clumsy hands let go, woke old Roger, who, +seeing a light in the kitchen, suddenly appeared +in the doorway with an old coat hastily thrown +over his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Look! he's saved us the trouble," said one +of them. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" growled the other. "He'll know us +now, and we'll be had up for this." +</p> + +<p> +Jim Dawson seized the poker, and, advancing +to the old man, brandished it above his +head. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, look here, old Roger," he said, "we +want your money, but we don't want your +life—that's no use to us. Now, just give us up +those savings, quiet and peaceable, and off we +go, if you promise first to hold that tongue of +yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Old miser!" went on Harry Crowther, +"where do you keep all your gold? Out with +it!" +</p> + +<p> +"I have no gold, my lad," answered old +Roger. His voice trembled a little; it may +have been from cold, or from fear, or both. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a lie!" cried Jim. "Who told little +miss at the house up here about all the treasure +he kept hid away? Come now, out with it +quietly, before I make you." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! I understand," said old Roger quietly. +"There's plenty of <i>that</i> treasure for thee, my +lad, enough and to spare. It's all in here—all +in here." +</p> + +<p> +He tottered slowly across the floor—such a +feeble old man he seemed!—till he reached his +little workshop on the opposite side of the +kitchen. Into this room the thieves followed +him, with eyes full of greedy expectation. +Roger went up to a little table, and took +therefrom an old book in strong, plain binding, that +seemed to have been much used. +</p> + +<p> +There were probably banknotes hidden between +the pages, thought the burglars, and Jim +Dawson snatched it from his hand roughly. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all there, 'where neither moth nor rust +doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break +through nor steal,'" repeated Old Roger. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Dawson rapidly searched the book, holding +it upside down, that anything loose might +fall out, and examining the cover, to see if there +were any secret place. But it was only an old +Bible, and with a yell he sprang at the +defenseless old man, and would have injured him +seriously, had it not been at this moment there +came a sound of the door opening, and footsteps +in the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +Beppo had come with the blacksmith and the +shepherd, and a sturdy young farmer whom he +had met on the way back. +</p> + +<p> +The thieves were caught in a trap. Beppo, +creeping quietly through the larger window, +had let in these kind friends; and before Jim +Dawson and his bad companion could think of +escape they were seized by strong hands and +held fast. +</p> + +<p> +A policeman was soon brought, and as they +and their captors were leaving the house they +passed that queer heap. +</p> + +<p> +"What's this?" said Thornicroft; "some one +been following you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Some one who tried to frighten me," said +Jim Dawson sullenly; "so I up with a stone." +</p> + +<p> +"And killed your own sister," said the +blacksmith, raising the figure gently. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed poor Moll; but she was not +dead, only stunned and senseless. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII. +<br><br> +"FRIEND, GO UP HIGHER!" +</h2> + +<p> +There came at last, next day, a governess +for Bryda; and she, remembering Miss Quillnib, +the only teacher she had ever had, except +mother, expected an elderly lady with prim +dress and iron-gray curls. But it is hard to say +if she was most surprised or pleased to see a +bright-faced young girl who could not be more +than twenty-one or twenty-two, who was nicely +dressed, and looked as if she could enjoy +amusing things quite as well as Miss Bryda +herself. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda put her through a short catechism +when her shyness had worn off a little, which +was by the time that she and the governess had +settled down to tea in the cosy schoolroom. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Mervyn, do you like jam?" she asked, +so very gravely that the young lady burst into +an extremely merry laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Very much," she said, trying to be as grave +as her pupil; "especially raspberry! We used +to call that 'real jam,' at my home." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you?" said Bryda. "But do you like +lessons better than play?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly not!" said Miss Mervyn. "Only +the play would get very stupid if it went on +every day, all day long. So I like some lessons, +too. How should you like to live on jam +without any bread, Bryda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I think the working part of the day +is the bread to make the play seem nice. How +would a cake be that was only currants and +sugar?" +</p> + +<p> +Bryda laughed, and then she grew solemn +again. "But I <i>don't</i> like dates," she said. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-203"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-203.jpg" alt="Bryda laughed, and then grew solemn."> +<br> +Bryda laughed, and then grew solemn. +</p> + +<p> +"No more do I," answered Miss Mervyn. +"That is, I don't like too many at once. But I +suppose you never remember your birthday, Bryda?" +</p> + +<p> +"Twenty-first of June!" said the pupil +promptly. "But then I know all about that, +and it's a very nice sort of day!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if I were to give you a packet of +sweeties every year on the day of the battle of +Waterloo, would it be easy to remember?" +</p> + +<p> +"It might," answered Breda. +</p> + +<p> +"Then let us try to divide the day between +lessons and play, so that we may have the proper +quantities of bread and jam? Shall we, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that will be nice! And, oh! Miss +Mervyn," burst out Bryda, "will you sometimes +come and see old Roger?" She had thought of +little else all day. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is old Roger?" asked Miss Mervyn. +"Who is old Roger?" asked Miss Mervyn. +</p> + +<p> +Bryda poured out all the story of Roger and +of Beppo, and of her first adventure in the +Dawsons' cottage, and of all that had happened +since. +</p> + +<p> +The story lasted till there came a knock at +the door, and Uncle Jack entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Uncle Jack! what have they done to +Jim Dawson?" cried Bryda. +</p> + +<p> +"Jim has been sent to prison," answered +Uncle Jack; "when his time of punishment is +over we will see what can be done for him. +And Moll is not dead, Bryda; that is what I +came up to tell you—that and something else. +Moll will recover, and when she leaves the +infirmary Cousin Salome has a little plan for +her, which will take her away among kind +people, who will teach her and help her to be +good." +</p> + +<p> +"What was the something else, Uncle Jack?" +</p> + +<p> +"The something else was that old Roger +would like to see you to-morrow morning, if +Miss Mervyn will be good enough to take you +there, as early as possible," he said. "Roger is +going to his palace, Bryda, and he may start +to-morrow, so he would like to say good-by." +</p> + +<p> +"How nice for Roger," said Bryda. "Aren't +you glad he is going, Uncle Jack? You spoke +quite sadly. I suppose you will miss old Roger; +I am sure I shall." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I am very glad," said Uncle Jack, in a +voice that shook a little. Evidently he would +miss old Roger very much indeed. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Liz!" said Bryda, as she went to bed, +"I am so sorry she cannot go too!" +</p> + +<p> +When Miss Mervyn and Bryda went down to +Roger's cottage in the morning, it seemed +wonderfully quiet. There was no sound of the +carpenter's diligent work—all his tools were neatly +laid aside. The cottage looked as though it +were Sunday. Roger was going home; he +would need his tools no more. +</p> + +<p> +Going into the inner room, they found old +Roger in bed propped up with pillows, while +Beppo, crouched at the foot of the bed, kept his +big, dark eyes fixed, with a very sorrowful look, +on the old man's face. +</p> + +<p> +Then, and not till then, did Bryda suddenly +understand what it all meant; and with a little +cry of "Oh, Roger, don't die!" she sprang to +the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +"Gently, dear," said Miss Mervyn following her. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I will be still!" sobbed Bryda; "but, +oh, Roger, I <i>never</i> thought you meant dying, +when you told me about your palace. And it +was because I did not understand, and told +Moll Dawson about your treasures, that all this +has happened! Oh, it's my fault!" she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +"No, dear," said Miss Mervyn gently. "It +is not your fault. But next time things puzzle +you, Bryda, ask some one to explain them." +</p> + +<p> +There was a smile as beautiful as the calm +light of a summer's sunset on the old man's +face. How glad he seemed to be going Home! +With something of an effort he spoke: +</p> + +<p> +"They shall see the King in His beauty ... the +land that is very far off. In My Father's +house ... many mansions ... a place for +you ... that means one for me too, Miss Bryda!" +</p> + +<p> +"And one for Liz," said Bryda quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! Liz will be able to show me round, she's +been there for so long ... she'll teach me the +ways o' the place, and the new song they sing +there. She was always a good singer, was Liz, +and loved it." +</p> + +<p> +"For Beppo one place, too," said a little voice +from the foot of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +"One place for all the children of the King, +if they have kept their garments white," said +Miss Mervyn. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," went on Roger faintly, "where the +Lord God giveth light... Wipeth away all +tears... One thing more... What is it?" His +memory seemed to fail, then again returned. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that's it... Not all rest and singing... +His servants shall serve Him ... work +for old Roger ... work for Beppo ... for all, +work and rest. But there's something more +... something good——" +</p> + +<p> +His voice failed completely. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, there is," said Miss Mervyn; "the +best thing of all! 'They shall see His +Face!'" +</p> + +<p> +A smile of exquisite delight came over the +old man's face. He spoke no more, but lay +back on his pillows, gazing before him and folding +his hands, as if already he had some foretaste +of that wonderful promise, given long ago +to the pure in heart, "They shall see God!" +</p> + +<p> +And then, from utter weakness, he fell info a +gentle sleep, like that of a child, with that same +smile on his face. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Miss Mervyn, and even Bryda and +little Beppo, as they looked, could understand +how true are the words of the Apostle, "Every +man that hath this hope in him purifieth +himself, even as He is pure." +</p> + +<p> +They would try to be of the number of those +for whom the many mansions are prepared; of +those, like Roger, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "The guileless in their way,<br> + Who keep the ranks of battle,<br> + Who mean the things they say."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +They stood watching old Roger's sleep for a +little while, and then Miss Mervyn gently drew +Bryda away; and Beppo and Mrs. Mears, the +kind parish nurse and Bible woman, were left to +watch the sleeper. +</p> + +<p> +Before that day was ended old Roger had set +out on his journey—had gone to join Liz in the +Palace of the King. +</p> + +<p> +The shock of Jim Dawson's attempted robbery, +and a chill caught at the same time, +were more than Roger's enfeebled frame could +stand. +</p> + +<p> +Cousin Salome wrote a little poem about +him; but she said, and all agreed with her, that +the old man's life and death were a better poem, +written in God's book of history, where perhaps +the names that we think great and famous +are not the most conspicuous. +</p> + +<p> +His body was laid beside that of Liz and +Bryda gathered the freshest flowers and made +two wreaths every Sunday morning. +</p> + +<p> +And Beppo? A well-to-do farmer's wife, +who had no child, offered to adopt him, and +make him quite like her own child. Cousin +Salome was not sure if the plan would work +well, so she proposed that the boy should go +for a month at first. And he went; and at the +end of the month the farmer's wife declared that +she must be allowed to keep him, if only +because he was such a capital advertisement of +her good milk and butter, since he had grown +so much fatter and stronger. Now and then he +was allowed to come and spend the day with +Bryda, for the grannies said he was "a perfect +little gentleman, who could do Bryda no harm." +</p> + +<p> +Bryda had no more need to complain of being +lonely, or of having nothing to do. By the time +that she had done her lessons diligently, and +played heartily with Miss Mervyn, who was +very good at battledore and shuttlecock and other +capital games, and had found time to do "something +for someone else," in which Miss Mervyn +was always ready to help her, why the day was +gone, and it was bedtime. That is the great +secret of not getting into scrapes, to have plenty +to do, and Uncle Jack was obliged to confess +one day, when Bryda insisted on an answer to +her question, that he could no longer truthfully +say that she "lived in a jar of Mixed Pickles." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79239 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/79239-h/images/img-002.jpg b/79239-h/images/img-002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ceb03c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/79239-h/images/img-002.jpg diff --git a/79239-h/images/img-010.jpg b/79239-h/images/img-010.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef3f2ef --- /dev/null +++ b/79239-h/images/img-010.jpg diff --git a/79239-h/images/img-025.jpg b/79239-h/images/img-025.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b840582 --- /dev/null +++ b/79239-h/images/img-025.jpg diff 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