mother's main stay, and worksbeyond her strength, I am sure. Be kind to the poor girl, and put alittle pleasure into her life if you can," answered Mrs. Spenser, as shemoved about, settling comforts and luxuries for her invalid.
"I shall _have_ to talk to her, as there is no other person of my age inthe house. How are the school marms? shall you get on with them, Mamma?It will be so lonely here for us both, if we don't make friends withsome one."
"Most intelligent and amiable women all three, and we shall havepleasant times together, I am sure. You may safely cultivate Becky; Mrs.Taylor told me she was a remarkably bright girl, though she may not lookit."
"Well, I'll see. But I do hate freckles and big red hands, and roundshoulders. She can't help it, I suppose, but ugly things fret me."
"Remember that she has no time to be pretty, and be glad she is so neatand willing. Shall we read, dear? I'm ready now."
Emily consented, and listened for an hour or two while the pleasantvoice beside her conjured away all her vapors with some of Mrs. Ewing'scharming tales.
"The grass is dry now, and I want to stroll on that green lawn beforelunch. You rest, Mamma dear, and let me make discoveries all alone,"proposed Emily, when the sun shone warmly, and the instinct of all youngcreatures for air and motion called her out.
So, with her hat and wrap, and book and parasol, she set forth toexplore the new land in which she found herself.
Down the wide, creaking stairs and out upon the door-stone she went,pausing there for a moment to decide where first to go. The sound ofsome one singing in the rear of the house led her in that direction, andturning the corner she made her first pleasant discovery. A hill rosesteeply behind the farm-house, and leaning from the bank was an oldapple-tree, shading a spring that trickled out from the rocks anddropped into a mossy trough below. Up the tree had grown a wildgrape-vine, making a green canopy over the great log which served as aseat, and some one had planted maidenhair ferns about both seat andspring to flourish beautifully in the damp, shady spot.
"Oh, how pretty! I'll go and sit there. It looks clean, and I can seewhat is going on in that big kitchen, and hear the singing. I supposeit's Becky's little sisters by the racket."
Emily established herself on the lichen-covered log with her feet upon astone, and sat enjoying the musical tinkle of the water, with her eyeson the delicate ferns stirring in the wind, and the lively jingle of themultiplication-table chanted by childish voices in her ear.
Presently two little girls with a great pan of beans came to do theirwork on the back door-step, a third was seen washing dishes at a window,and Becky's brown-spotted gown flew about the kitchen as if a veryenergetic girl wore it. A woman's voice was heard giving directions, asthe speaker was evidently picking chickens somewhere out of sight.
A little of the talk reached Emily and both amused and annoyed her, forit proved that the country people were not as stupid as they looked.
"Oh, well, we mustn't mind if she _is_ notional and kind of wearing;she's been sick, and it will take time to get rid of her fretty ways.Jest be pleasant, and take no notice, and that nice mother of hers willmake it all right," said the woman's voice.
"How anybody with every mortal thing to be happy with _can_ beout-of-sorts passes me. She fussed about every piller, chair, trunk, andmite of food last night, and kept that poor tired lady trotting till Iwas provoked. She's right pleasant this morning though, and as pretty asa picture in her ruffled gown and that blue thing on her head," answeredBecky from the pantry, as she rattled out the pie-board, little dreamingwho sat hidden behind the grape-vine festoons that veiled the corner bythe spring.
"Well, she's got redder hair 'n' we have, so she needn't be so grand andtry to hide it with blue nets," added one little voice.
"Yes, and it's ever so much shorter 'n' ours, and curls all over herhead like Daisy's wool. I should think such a big girl would feel realashamed without no braids," said the other child, proudly surveying thetawny mane that hung over her shoulders,--for like most red-hairedpeople all the children were blessed with luxuriant crops of every shadefrom golden auburn to regular carrots.
"I think it's lovely. Suppose it had to be cut off when she had thefever. Wish I could get rid of my mop, it's such a bother;" and Beckywas seen tying a clean towel over the great knot that made her head lookvery like a copper kettle.
"Now fly round, deary, and get them pies ready. I'll have these fowls onin a minute, and then go to my butter. You run off and see if you can'tfind some wild strawberries for the poor girl, soon's ever you arethrough with them beans, children. We must kind of pamper her up for aspell till her appetite comes back," said the mother.
Here the chat ended, and soon the little girls were gone, leaving Beckyalone rolling out pie-crust before the pantry window. As she worked herlips moved, and Emily, still peeping through the leaves, wondered whatshe was saying, for a low murmur rose and fell, emphasized now and thenwith a thump of the rolling-pin.
"I mean to go and find out. If I stand on that wash-bench I can look inand see her work. I'll show them all that _I_'m _not_ 'fussy,' and canbe 'right pleasant' if I like."
With this wise resolution Emily went down the little path, and afterpausing to examine the churn set out to dry, and the row of pans shiningon a neighboring shelf, made her way to the window, mounted the benchwhile Becky's back was turned, and pushing away the morning-glory vinesand scarlet beans that ran up on either side peeped in with such asmiling face that the crossest cook could not have frowned on her as anintruder.
"May I see you work? I can't eat pies, but I like to watch people makethem. Do you mind?"
"Not a bit. I'd ask you to come in, but it's dreadful hot here, and notmuch room," answered Becky, crimping round the pastry before she pouredin the custard. "I'm going to make a nice little pudding for you; yourmother said you liked 'em; or would you rather have whipped cream with amite of jelly in it?" asked Becky, anxious to suit her new boarder.
"Whichever is easiest to make. I don't care what I eat. Do tell me whatyou were saying. It sounded like poetry," said Emily, leaning bothelbows on the wide ledge with a pale pink morning-glory kissing hercheek, and a savory odor reaching her nose.
"Oh, I was mumbling some verses. I often do when I work, it sort ofhelps me along; but it must sound dreadful silly," and Becky blushed asif caught in some serious fault.
"I do it, and it's a great comfort when I lie awake. I should think you_would_ want something to help you along, you work so hard. Do you likeit, Becky?"
The familiar name, the kind tone, made the plain face brighten withpleasure as its owner said, while she carefully filled a pretty bowlwith a golden mixture rich with fresh eggs and country milk,--
"No, I don't, but I ought to. Mother isn't as strong as she used to be,and there's a sight to do, and the children to be brought up, and themortgage to be paid off; so if _I_ don't fly round, who will? We aredoing real well now, for Mr. Walker manages the farm and gives us ourshare, so our living is all right; then boarders in summer and my schoolin winter help a deal, and every year the boys can do more, so I'd be areal sinner to complain if I do have to step lively all day."
Becky smiled as she spoke, and straightened her bent shoulders as ifsettling her burden for another trudge along the path of duty.
"Do you keep school? Why, how old are you, Becky?" asked Emily, muchimpressed by this new discovery.
"I'm eighteen. I took the place of a teacher who got sick last fall, andI kept school all winter. Folks seemed to like me, and I'm going to havethe same place this year. I'm so glad, for I needn't go away, and thepay is pretty good, as the school is large and the children do well. Youcan see the school-house down the valley, that red brick one where theroads meet;" and Becky pointed a floury finger, with an air of pridethat was pleasant to see.
Emily glanced at the little red house where the sun shone hotly insummer, and all the winds of heaven must rage wildly in winter time, forit stood, as country schools usually do, in the barest, most uninvitingspot f
or miles around.
"Isn't it awful down there in winter?" she asked, with a shiver at theidea of spending days shut up in that forlorn place, with a crowd ofrough country children.
"Pretty cold, but we have plenty of wood, and we are used to snow andgales up here. We often coast down, the whole lot of us, and that isgreat fun. We take our dinners and have games noon-spells, and so we geton first rate; some of my boys are big fellows, older than I am, andthey clear the roads and make the fire and look after us, and we arereal happy together."
Emily found it so impossible to imagine happiness under suchcircumstances that she changed the subject