Chapter VIII. Merry and Molly
Now let us see how the other missionaries got on with their tasks.
Farmer Grant was a thrifty, well-to-do man, anxious to give his childrengreater advantages than he had enjoyed, and to improve the fine placeof which he was justly proud. Mrs. Grant was a notable housewife, asambitious and industrious as her husband, but too busy to spend any timeon the elegancies of life, though always ready to help the poor and sicklike a good neighbor and Christian woman. The three sons--Tom, Dick,and Harry--were big fellows of seventeen, nineteen, and twenty-one;the first two on the farm, and the elder in a store just setting up forhimself. Kind-hearted but rough-mannered youths, who loved Merry verymuch, but teased her sadly about her "fine lady airs," as they calledher dainty ways and love of beauty.
Merry was a thoughtful girl, full of innocent fancies, refined tastes,and romantic dreams, in which no one sympathized at home, though she wasthe pet of the family. It did seem, to an outsider, as if the delicatelittle creature had got there by mistake, for she looked very like atea-rose in a field of clover and dandelions, whose highest aim in lifewas to feed cows and help make root beer.
When the girls talked over the new society, it pleased Merry very much,and she decided not only to try and love work better, but to converther family to a liking for pretty things, as she called her own morecultivated tastes.
"I will begin at once, and show them that I don't mean to shirk my duty,though I do want to be nice," thought she, as she sat at supper onenight and looked about her, planning her first move.
Not a very cheering prospect for a lover of the beautiful, certainly,for the big kitchen, though as neat as wax, had nothing lovely in it,except a red geranium blooming at the window. Nor were the people allthat could be desired, in some respects, as they sat about the tableshovelling in pork and beans with their knives, drinking tea from theirsaucers, and laughing out with a hearty "Haw, haw," when anything amusedthem. Yet the boys were handsome, strong specimens, the farmer a hale,benevolent-looking man, the housewife a pleasant, sharp-eyed matron, whoseemed to find comfort in looking often at the bright face at her elbow,with the broad forehead, clear eyes, sweet mouth, and quiet voice thatcame like music in among the loud masculine ones, or the quick, nervoustones of a woman always in a hurry.
Merry's face was so thoughtful that evening that her father observed it,for, when at home, he watched her as one watches a kitten, glad to seeanything so pretty, young, and happy, at its play.
"Little daughter has got something on her mind, I mistrust. Come andtell father all about it," he said, with a sounding slap on his broadknee as he turned his chair from the table to the ugly stove, wherethree pairs of wet boots steamed underneath, and a great kettle of ciderapple-sauce simmered above.
"When I've helped clear up, I'll come and talk. Now, mother, you sitdown and rest; Roxy and I can do everything," answered Merry, pattingthe old rocking-chair so invitingly that the tired woman could notresist, especially as watching the kettle gave her an excuse forobeying.
"Well, I don't care if I do, for I've been on my feet since fiveo'clock. Be sure you cover things up, and shut the buttery door, and putthe cat down cellar, and sift your meal. I'll see to the buckwheats lastthing before I go to bed."
Mrs. Grant subsided with her knitting, for her hands were never idle;Tom tilted his chair back against the wall and picked his teeth withhis pen-knife; Dick got out a little pot of grease, to make the bootswater-tight; and Harry sat down at the small table to look over hisaccounts, with an important air,--for every one occupied this room, andthe work was done in the out-kitchen behind.
Merry hated clearing up, but dutifully did every distasteful task, andkept her eye on careless Roxy till all was in order; then she gladlywent to perch on her father's knee, seeing in all the faces about herthe silent welcome they always wore for the "little one."
"Yes, I do want something, but I know you will say it is silly," shebegan, as her father pinched her blooming cheek, with the wish that hispeaches would ever look half as well.
"Shouldn't wonder if it was a doll now;" and Mr. Grant stroked her headwith an indulgent smile, as if she was about six instead of fifteen.
"Why, father, you know I don't! I haven't played with dollies for yearsand years. No; I want to fix up my room pretty, like Jill's. I'll do itall myself, and only want a few things, for I don't expect it to look asnice as hers."
Indignation gave Merry courage to state her wishes boldly, though sheknew the boys would laugh. They did, and her mother said in a tone ofsurprise,--
"Why, child, what more can you want? I'm sure your room is always asneat as a new pin, thanks to your bringing up, and I told you to have afire there whenever you wanted to."
"Let me have some old things out of the garret, and I'll show you whatI want. It _is_ neat, but so bare and ugly I hate to be there. I do solove something pretty to look at!" and Merry gave a little shiver ofdisgust as she turned her eyes away from the large greasy boot Dick washolding up to be sure it was well lubricated all round.
"So do I, and that's a fact. I couldn't get on without my pretty girlhere, any way. Why, she touches up the old place better than a dozenflower-pots in full blow," said the farmer, as his eye went from thescarlet geranium to the bright young face so near his own.
"I wish I had a dozen in the sitting-room window. Mother says they arenot tidy, but I'd keep them neat, and I know you'd like it," broke inMerry, glad of the chance to get one of the long-desired wishes of herheart fulfilled.
"I'll fetch you some next time I go over to Ballad's. Tell me what youwant, and we'll have a posy bed somewhere round, see if we don't," saidher father, dimly understanding what she wanted.
"Now, if mother says I may fix my room, I shall be satisfied, and I'lldo my chores without a bit of fuss, to show how grateful I am," saidthe girl, thanking her father with a kiss, and smiling at her mother sowistfully that the good woman could not refuse.
"You may have anything you like out of the blue chest. There's a lot ofthings there that the moths got at after Grandma died, and I couldn'tbear to throw or give 'em away. Trim up your room as you like, and mindyou don't forget your part of the bargain," answered Mrs. Grant, seeingprofit in the plan.
"I won't; I'll work all the morning to-morrow, and in the afternoon I'llget ready to show you what I call a nice, pretty room," answered Merry,looking so pleased it seemed as if another flower had blossomed in thelarge bare kitchen.
She kept her word, and the very stormy afternoon when Jill got intotrouble, Merry was working busily at her little bower. In the blue chestshe found a variety of treasures, and ignoring the moth holes, used themto the best advantage, trying to imitate the simple comfort with a touchof elegance which prevailed in Mrs. Minot's back bedroom.
Three faded red-moreen curtains went up at the windows over the chillypaper shades, giving a pleasant glow to the bare walls. A red quilt withwhite stars, rather the worse for many washings, covered the bed, and agay cloth the table, where a judicious arrangement of books and basketsconcealed the spots. The little air-tight stove was banished, and a pairof ancient andirons shone in the fire-light. Grandma's last and largestbraided rug lay on the hearth, and her brass candlesticks adorned thebureau, over the mirror of which was festooned a white muslin skirt,tied up with Merry's red sash. This piece of elegance gave the lasttouch to her room, she thought, and she was very proud of it, settingforth all her small store of trinkets in a large shell, with an emptyscent bottle, and a clean tidy over the pincushion. On the walls shehung three old-fashioned pictures, which she ventured to borrow fromthe garret till better could be found. One a mourning piece, with a verytall lady weeping on an urn in a grove of willows, and two small boys inknee breeches and funny little square tails to their coats, looking likecherubs in large frills. The other was as good as a bonfire, being aneruption of Vesuvius, and very lurid indeed, for the Bay of Naples wasboiling like a pot, the red sky raining rocks, and a few distractedpeople lying flat upon the s
hore. The third was a really pretty sceneof children dancing round a May-pole, for though nearly a hundred yearsold, the little maids smiled and the boys pranced as gayly as if theflowers they carried were still alive and sweet.
"Now I'll call them all to see, and say that it is pretty. Then I'llenjoy it, and come here when things look dismal and bare everywhereelse," said Merry, when at last it was done. She had worked all theafternoon, and only finished at supper time, so the candles had to belighted that the toilette might look its best, and impress the beholderswith an idea of true elegance. Unfortunately, the fire smoked a little,and a window was set ajar to clear the room; an evil-disposed gust blewin, wafting the thin drapery within reach of the light, and when Merrythrew open the door proudly thinking to display her success, she washorrified to find the room in a blaze, and half her labor all in vain.
The conflagration was over in a minute, however, for the boys tore downthe muslin and stamped out the fire with much laughter, while Mrs. Grantbewailed the damage to her carpet, and poor Merry took refuge inher father's arms, refusing to be comforted in spite of his kindcommendation of "Grandma's fixins."
The third little missionary had the hardest time of all, and her firstefforts were not much more satisfactory nor successful than the others.Her father was away from morning till night, and then had his paper toread, books to keep, or "a man to see down town," so that, after a hastyword at tea, he saw no more of the children till another evening, asthey were seldom up at his early breakfast. He thought they were welltaken care of, for Miss Bathsheba Dawes was an energetic, middle-agedspinster when she came into the family, and had been there fifteenyears, so he did not observe, what a woman would have seen at once, thatMiss Bat was getting old and careless, and everything about the housewas at sixes and sevens. She took good care of him, and thought she haddone her duty if she got three comfortable meals, nursed the childrenwhen they were ill, and saw that the house did not burn up. So MariaLouisa and Napoleon Bonaparte got on as they could, without the tendercares of a mother. Molly had been a happy-go-lucky child, contentedwith her pets, her freedom, and little Boo to love; but now she was justbeginning to see that they were not like other children, and to feelashamed of it.
"Papa is busy, but Miss Bat ought to see to us; she is paid for it,and goodness knows she has an easy time now, for if I ask her to doanything, she groans over her bones, and tells me young folks shouldwait on themselves. I take all the care of Boo off her hands, but Ican't wash my own things, and he hasn't a decent trouser to his blessedlittle legs. I'd tell papa, but it wouldn't do any good; he'd only say,'Yes, child, yes, I'll attend to it,' and never do a thing."
This used to be Molly's lament, when some especially trying eventoccurred, and if the girls were not there to condole with her, she wouldretire to the shed-chamber, call her nine cats about her, and, sittingin the old bushel basket, pull her hair about her ears, and scold allalone. The cats learned to understand this habit, and nobly did theirbest to dispel the gloom which now and then obscured the sunshine oftheir little mistress. Some of them would creep into her lap and purrtill the comfortable sound soothed her irritation; the sedate elders satat her feet blinking with such wise and sympathetic faces, that she feltas if half a dozen Solomons were giving her the sagest advice; while thekittens frisked about, cutting up their drollest capers till she laughedin spite of herself. When the laugh came, the worst of the fit was over,and she soon cheered up, dismissing the consolers with a pat all round,a feast of good things from Miss Bat's larder, and the usual speech:--
"Well, dears, it's of no use to worry. I guess we shall get alongsomehow, if we don't fret."
With which wise resolution, Molly would leave her retreat and freshenup her spirits by a row on the river or a romp with Boo, which alwaysfinished the case. Now, however, she was bound to try the new plan anddo something toward reforming not only the boy's condition, but thedisorder and discomfort of home.
"I'll play it is Siam, and this the house of a native, and I'm come toshow the folks how to live nicely. Miss Bat won't know what to make ofit, and I can't tell her, so I shall get some fun out of it, any way,"thought Molly, as she surveyed the dining-room the day her missionbegan.
The prospect was not cheering; and, if the natives of Siam live in suchconfusion, it is high time they were attended to. The breakfast-tablestill stood as it was left, with slops of coffee on the cloth; bits ofbread, egg-shells, and potato-skins lay about, and one lonely sausagewas cast away in the middle of a large platter. The furniture was dusty,stove untidy, and the carpet looked as if crumbs had been scattered tochickens who declined their breakfast. Boo was sitting on the sofa, withhis arm through a hole in the cover, hunting for some lost treasureput away there for safe keeping, like a little magpie as he was. Mollyfancied she washed and dressed him well enough; but to-day she seemed tosee more clearly, and sighed as she thought of the hard job in store forher if she gave him the thorough washing he needed, and combed out thatcurly mop of hair.
"I'll clear up first and do that by and by. I ought to have a nicelittle tub and good towels, like Mrs. Minot, and I will, too, if I buythem myself," she said, piling up cups with an energy that threateneddestruction to handles.
Miss Bat, who was trailing about the kitchen, with her head pinned upin a little plaid shawl, was so surprised by the demand for a pan ofhot water and four clean towels, that she nearly dropped her snuff-box,chief comfort of her lazy soul.
"What new whimsey now? Generally, the dishes stand round till I havetime to pick 'em up, and you are off coasting or careering somewhere.Well, this tidy fit won't last long, so I may as well make the most ofit," said Miss Bat, as she handed out the required articles, and thenpushed her spectacles from the tip of her sharp nose to her sharperblack eyes for a good look at the girl who stood primly before her, witha clean apron on and her hair braided up instead of flying wildly abouther shoulders.
"Umph!" was all the comment that Miss Bat made on this unusual neatness,and she went on scraping her saucepans, while Molly returned to herwork, very well pleased with the effect of her first step, for she feltthat the bewilderment of Miss Bat would be a constant inspiration tofresh efforts.
An hour of hard work produced an agreeable change in the abode ofthe native, for the table was cleared, room swept and dusted, firebrightened, and the holes in the sofa-covering were pinned up till timecould be found to mend them. To be sure, rolls of lint lay in corners,smears of ashes were on the stove hearth, and dust still lurked onchair rounds and table legs. But too much must not be expected of anew convert, so the young missionary sat down to rest, well pleased andready for another attempt as soon as she could decide in what directionit should be made. She quailed before Boo as she looked at theunconscious innocent peacefully playing with the spotted dog, now bereftof his tail, and the lone sausage with which he was attempting to feedthe hungry animal, whose red mouth always gaped for more.
"It will be an awful job, and he is so happy I won't plague him yet.Guess I'll go and put my room to rights first, and pick up some cleanclothes to put on him, if he is alive after I get through with him,"thought Molly, foreseeing a stormy passage for the boy, who hated a bathas much as some people hate a trip across the Atlantic.
Up she went, and finding the fire out felt discouraged, thought shewould rest a little more, so retired under the blankets to read one ofthe Christmas books. The dinner-bell rang while she was still wanderinghappily in "Nelly's Silver Mine," and she ran down to find that Boo hadlaid out a railroad all across her neat room, using bits of coal forsleepers and books for rails, over which he was dragging the yellow sledladen with a dismayed kitten, the tailless dog, and the remains of thesausage, evidently on its way to the tomb, for Boo took bites at it nowand then, no other lunch being offered him.
"Oh dear! why can't boys play without making such a mess," sighed Molly,picking up the feathers from the duster with which Boo had been tryingto make a "cocky-doo" of the hapless dog. "I'll wash him right afterdinner, and that will keep h
im out of mischief for a while," shethought, as the young engineer unsuspiciously proceeded to ornament hisalready crocky countenance with squash, cranberry sauce, and gravy, tillhe looked more like a Fiji chief in full war-paint than a Christian boy.
"I want two pails of hot water, please, Miss Bat, and the big tub," saidMolly, as the ancient handmaid emptied her fourth cup of tea, for shedined with the family, and enjoyed her own good cooking in its prime.
"What are you going to wash now?"
"Boo--I'm sure he needs it enough;" and Molly could not help laughing asthe victim added to his brilliant appearance by smearing the colorsall together with a rub of two grimy hands, making a fine "Turner" ofhimself.
"Now, Maria Louisa Bemis, you ain't going to cut up no capers with thatchild! The idea of a hot bath in the middle of the day, and him fullof dinner, and croupy into the bargain! Wet a corner of a towel at thekettle-spout and polish him off if you like, but you won't risk his lifein no bath-tubs this cold day."
Miss Bat's word was law in some things, so Molly had to submit, and tookBoo away, saying, loftily, as she left the room,--
"I shall ask father, and do it to-night, for I will _not_ have mybrother look like a pig."
"My patience! how the Siamese do leave their things round," sheexclaimed, as she surveyed her room after making up the fire andpolishing off Boo. "I'll put things in order, and then mend up my rags,if I can find my thimble. Now, let me see;" and she went to exploringher closet, bureau, and table, finding such disorder everywhere that hercourage nearly gave out.
She had clothes enough, but all needed care; even her best dress had twobuttons off, and her Sunday hat but one string. Shoes, skirts, books,and toys lay about, and her drawers were a perfect chaos of soiledruffles, odd gloves, old ribbons, boot lacings, and bits of paper.
"Oh, my heart, what a muddle! Mrs. Minot wouldn't think much of me ifshe could see that," said Molly, recalling how that lady once said shecould judge a good deal of a little girl's character and habits by apeep at her top drawer, and went on, with great success, to guess howeach of the school-mates kept her drawer.
"Come, missionary, clear up, and don't let me find such a glory-holeagain, or I'll report you to the society," said Molly, tipping the wholedrawer-full out upon the bed, and beguiling the tiresome job by keepingup the new play.
Twilight came before it was done, and a great pile of things loomed upon her table, with no visible means of repair,--for Molly's work-basketwas full of nuts, and her thimble down a hole in the shed-floor, wherethe cats had dropped it in their play.
"I'll ask Bat for hooks and tape, and papa for some money to buyscissors and things, for I don't know where mine are. Glad I can't doany more now! Being neat is such hard work!" and Molly threw herselfdown on the rug beside the old wooden cradle in which Boo was blissfullyrocking, with a cargo of toys aboard.
She watched her time, and as soon as her father had done supper, shehastened to say, before he got to his desk,--
"Please, papa, I want a dollar to get some brass buttons and things tofix Boo's clothes with. He wore a hole in his new trousers coastingdown the Kembles' steps. And can't I wash him? He needs it, and Miss Batwon't let me have a tub."
"Certainly, child, certainly; do what you like, only don't keep me. Imust be off, or I shall miss Jackson, and he's the man I want;" and,throwing down two dollars instead of one, Mr. Bemis hurried away, with avague impression that Boo had swallowed a dozen brass buttons, and MissBat had been coasting somewhere in a bath-pan; but catching Jackson wasimportant, so he did not stop to investigate.
Armed with the paternal permission, Molly carried her point, and oh,what a dreadful evening poor Boo spent! First, he was decoyed upstairsan hour too soon, then put in a tub by main force and sternly scrubbed,in spite of shrieks that brought Miss Bat to the locked door to condolewith the sufferer, scold the scrubber, and depart, darkly prophesyingcroup before morning.
"He always howls when he is washed; but I shall do it, since youwon't, and he must get used to it. I will not have people tell me he'sneglected, if I can help it," cried Molly, working away with tears inher eyes--for it was as hard for her as for Boo; but she meant to bethorough for once in her life, no matter what happened.
When the worst was over, she coaxed him with candy and stories till thelong task of combing out the curls was safely done; then, in the cleannight-gown with a blue button newly sewed on, she laid him in bed, wornout, but sweet as a rose.
"Now, say your prayers, darling, and go to sleep with the nice redblanket all tucked round so you won't get cold," said Molly, ratherdoubtful of the effect of the wet head.
"No, I won't! Going to sleep _now!_" and Boo shut his eyes wearily,feeling that his late trials had not left him in a prayerful mood.
"Then you'll be a real little heathen, as Mrs. Pecq called you, andI don't know what I shall do with you," said Molly, longing to cuddlerather than scold the little fellow, whose soul needed looking after aswell as his body.
"No, no; I won't be a heevin! I don't want to be frowed to thetrockindiles. I will say my prayers! oh, I will!" and, rising inhis bed, Boo did so, with the devotion of an infant Samuel, for heremembered the talk when the society was formed.
Molly thought her labors were over for that night, and soon went to bed,tired with her first attempts. But toward morning she was wakened by thehoarse breathing of the boy, and was forced to patter away to Miss Bat'sroom, humbly asking for the squills, and confessing that the prophecyhad come to pass.
"I knew it! Bring the child to me, and don't fret. I'll see to him, andnext time you do as I say," was the consoling welcome she received asthe old lady popped up a sleepy but anxious face in a large flannel cap,and shook the bottle with the air of a general who had routed the foebefore and meant to do it again.
Leaving her little responsibility in Miss Bat's arms, Molly retiredto wet her pillow with a few remorseful tears, and to fall asleep,wondering if real missionaries ever killed their pupils in the processof conversion.
So the girls all failed in the beginning; but they did not give up, andsucceeded better next time, as we shall see.