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_LITTLE SUNBEAMS._
VI.
NELLIE'S HOUSEKEEPING.
By the Author of this Volume.
I.
LITTLE SUNBEAMS.
By JOANNA H. MATHEWS, Author of the "Bessie Books." 6 vols. In a box $6.00
_Or, separately_:--
I. BELLE POWERS' LOCKET. 16mo 1.00 II. DORA'S MOTTO. 16mo 1.00 III. LILY NORRIS' ENEMY 1.00 IV. JESSIE'S PARROT 1.00 V. MAMIE'S WATCHWORD 1.00 VI. NELLIE'S HOUSEKEEPING 1.00
II.
THE FLOWERETS.
A series of Stories on the Commandments. 6 vols. In a box $3.60
"Under the general head of 'Flowerets,' this charming author has grouped six little volumes, being a series of stories on the Commandments. 'Our folks' are in love with them, and have made off with them all before we could get the first reading."--_Our Monthly._
III.
THE BESSIE BOOKS.
6 vols. In a box $7.50
"We can wish our young readers no greater pleasure than an acquaintance with dear, cute little Bessie and her companions, old and young, brute and human."--_American Presbyterian._
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, _New York_
NELLIE'S HOUSEKEEPING.
"Be good, sweet child, and let who will be clever: Do noble things, not dream them, all day long; So shalt thou make life, death, and that vast for ever. One grand, sweet song."--KINGSLEY.
BY JOANNA H. MATHEWS, AUTHOR OF THE "BESSIE BOOKS" AND THE "FLOWERETS."
NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 530 BROADWAY. 1882.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
CONTENTS.
PAGE I. HARD AT WORK 7 II. A TALK WITH PAPA 25 III. NELLIE A HOUSEKEEPER 50 IV. A COURTSHIP 70 V. WHITE MICE 94 VI. THE GRAY MICE 113 VII. THE BLACK CAT 136 VIII. DAISY'S SACRIFICE 157 IX. MAKING GINGER-CAKES 181 X. FRESH TROUBLES 204 XI. A NIGHT OF IT 224 XII. AN ALARM 236 XIII. LAST OF THE SUNBEAMS 245
NELLIE'S HOUSEKEEPING.
I.
_HARD AT WORK._
"NELLIE, will you come down to the beach now?"
"No!" with as much shortness and sharpness as the little word of twoletters could well convey.
"Why not?"
"Oh! because I can't. Don't bother me."
And, laying down the pencil with which she had been writing, NellieRansom pushed back the hair from her flushed, heated face, drew a long,weary sigh, took up the Bible which lay at her elbow, and, turningover the leaf, ran her finger slowly and carefully down the page beforeher.
Carrie stood with one elbow upon the corner of the table at which hersister sat, her chin resting in her palm as she discontentedly watchedNellie, while with the other hand she swung back and forth by onestring the broad straw hat she was accustomed to wear when playing outof doors.
"I think you might," she said presently. "Mamma says I can't go if youdon't, and I want to go so."
"I can't help it," said Nellie, still without taking her eyes from herBible. "I wish you'd stop shaking the table so."
"How soon will you come?" persisted Carrie, taking her elbow from thetable.
"When I'm ready, and not before," snapped Nellie. "I wish you'd let mealone."
Carrie began to cry.
"It's too bad," she whimpered. "Mamma says, if I go at all, I must goearly, so as to be back before sundown, 'cause my cold is so bad.There won't be any time for me to play."
Nellie made no answer, but, having found what she wanted in her Bible,began to write again, copying from the page of the Holy Book before her.
Presently Carrie, forgetting her caution, tossed down her hat, andpettishly plumped both elbows upon the table, muttering,--
"I think you're real mean."
"Stop shaking the table, or I won't go at all," said Nellie, in a loud,irritable tone. "Ask mamma to let Ruth take you."
"She can't spare Ruth, she says. The baby is fretful, and she don'tfeel well enough to take care of it herself; and I think you mightgo with me. I haven't been to the beach for four days, because I wassick," pleaded Carrie, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Well, I'm too busy to go now. You'll have to wait until I'm ready,"said Nellie. "I'll come by and by."
"By and by will leave hardly any time," said Carrie, with a wistfulglance out upon the lawn, where the shadows were already growing long.
No answer; only the rustle of Nellie's sheet of paper as she turned itover.
Carrie wandered restlessly about the room for a moment or two; then,coming back to the table, began idly to turn over some loose paperswhich lay at Nellie's right hand.
Nellie snatched them from her.
"Now, look here," she said, "if you don't go away and let me and mythings alone, I won't go to the beach at all. You hinder me all thetime, and I won't be so bothered."
"Cross, hateful thing!" said Carrie, passionately. "I don't b'lieve youmean to go at all. I wish I had a better sister than you."
Nellie turned once more to the Bible, but deigned no answer to thisoutburst.
Carrie looked back from the door, which she had reached on her way fromthe room, and said in a tone one shade less furious than her last,--
"You're always poking over your Bible now, but it don't seem to teachyou to be kind. You grow crosser and crosser every day; and you're notone bit like you used to be."
"Carrie!" called Mrs. Ransom's gentle voice from the next room; andCarrie vanished, leaving Nellie, as she had said she wished to be,alone.
Did her work go smoothly after that?
Not very, at least for a few moments. Perhaps mamma had heard all thathad passed, and Nellie did not feel quite satisfied that she shouldhave done so. What had she said to Carrie? She could hardly recollectherself, so divided had been her attention between her little sisterand the task before her; but she was quite certain that she had been"cross," and spoken to Carrie in an unkind manner, apart from herrefusal to accompany the child, who, she well knew, had been confinedto the house for the last few days, and deprived of her usual play andexercise in the open air.
But then Carrie might just as well have waited patiently a fewmoments till she was ready to go, and not bothered her so. She wouldgo presently when she had looked out three--well, no--five--six moreverses, and written them out; and once more she took up the Bible.
But the words before her eyes mingled themselves with those which weresounding in her ears.
"Not like she used to be! Crosser and crosser every day!"
Ah! none knew this better than Nellie herself, and yet she strove, orthought she did, against the growing evil.
Well, there was no use thinking about it now. She would finish the taskshe had set herself, call Carrie, make it up with her, and go to thebeach.
And once more she was absorbed in her work, in spite of aching headand burning cheeks,--so absorbed that she did not heed how time waspassing, did not heed that the six verses had grown into ten, until, asshe was searching for the eleventh, the last golden rays of the sunfell across her paper, and, looking up quickly, she
saw that he wasjust sinking in the far west. Too late for Carrie to go out now! Thepoor child had lost her afternoon stroll. Oh, she was so sorry! Howcould she forget?
Hastily shutting the Bible and pushing it from her, she gathered up herpapers, thrust them into her writing-desk, and turned the key, ran intothe hall for her hat, and went in search of Carrie.
Where was she? She had not heard the child's voice since she left herin such a temper, nor had she heard Daisy's. Probably the two littlesisters had found some other way of amusing themselves, and Carriewould have forgotten her disappointment. Well, she would be sure togive her a good play on the beach to-morrow.
Where could the children be? For, as Nellie thought this to herself,she was looking in all the places where they were usually to be found,but they were nowhere to be seen. She called in vain about house andgarden; no childish voice answered.
"I suppose Carrie is provoked with me, and won't speak to me, and won'tlet Daisy," she said to herself. "Well, I'm sure I don't care."
But she did care, though she would not acknowledge it to herself;and she sat down upon the upper step of the porch, and watched thelast rosy sunset tints fading out of the soft clouds overhead, witha restless, discontented feeling at her heart. The stillness andthe beauty of the scene did not seem to bring peace and rest to hertroubled little soul.
And why was it troubled?
Because for days past--nay, for weeks past--Nellie had been consciousof an increasing ill-humor and irritability,--"crosser and crosserevery day,"--yes, that was it; but why was it? She did not know, shecould not help it; she was sure she tried hard enough; and every nightand morning, when she said her prayers and asked not to be "led intotemptation," she always thought particularly of the temptation to becross, for that seemed what she had to struggle with in these days.
That, and one other thing.
Nellie tried to put that other ugly failing out of sight, would notbelieve that she was guilty of it; and yet it would come before hersometimes, as it did now; and as she thought of little kindnesses,even little duties unperformed and neglected, she wondered if she werereally growing selfish.
She should so hate to be selfish.
And yet--and yet--people were always asking her to do favors at suchinconvenient times, when she was so busy; and somehow she was alwaysbusy now. There was so much she wanted to do; so much to accomplishthis summer, before she returned to the city and to school; and she didnot like to be interrupted when she was reading or studying. It was sohard to put her mind to it again, and she was sure it was right to tryto improve herself all she could.
The click of the gate-latch roused her from her troublesome thoughts;and, looking around, she saw her mother crossing the lawn, Carrieholding her hand and walking quietly by her side, Daisy jumping andskipping before them.
Daisy was always skipping and jumping. What a happy, merry little thingshe was! never still one moment, except when she was asleep, and notalways so very still then, little roll-about that she was!
But where had they all been?
The toys the children had with them soon answered this question, forDaisy was pulling a wagon which had been filled with stones and shells.The most part of these, however, lay scattered here and there along theway home; for Daisy's prancings and caperings--she was supposed to be apony just now--had jolted them out of the wagon and shed them broadcaston the path.
Still the few that were left at the bottom of the wagon told whencethey had come; and the tiny spade and pail full of shells which Carrieheld told the same story.
But how tired and languid mamma looked! how wearily she walked acrossthe lawn!
Nellie ran down to meet her.
"Why, mamma!" she exclaimed. "Have you been down to the beach?"
"Yes, Nellie."
"But, mamma, you look so tired. Didn't you know that was too long awalk for you?"
Nellie, a child grave and wise for her years, always, or almost always,showed a tender, thoughtful care for her mother; and it was sometimesreally droll to see how she checked or advised her against anyimprudence, even gently reproved, as in the present case, when the deedwas done.
"You ought not to do it, mamma, you really ought not."
"I had promised Carrie that she should go this afternoon," said Mrs.Ransom, "and I could not bear that she should be disappointed afterbeing shut up in the house for four days."
"Mamma," said Carrie, "I'm sure I'd rather have stayed home than hadyou make yourself too tired. I didn't know it was too far for you. Ireally didn't. Oh, I'm so sorry you said you'd take me! Will it makeyou ill again?"
"No, dear. I think not. I do not believe it will hurt me, though I dofeel rather tired," said Mrs. Ransom, smiling cheerfully down into thelittle troubled face which looked up so penitently into her own.
Self-reproached, humbled and repentant, Nellie could find no words tosay what she would, or rather the choking feeling in her throat stifledher voice; and she could only walk silently by her mother's side untilthey reached the piazza, where Mrs. Ransom sank wearily into a chair,giving her hat and parasol into the hands of the eager little Carrie,who seemed to feel as if she could not do enough to make her mothercomfortable after the sacrifice she had made for her; and Daisy, whoalways thought she must do what Carrie did, followed her example.
Carrie brought a footstool, Daisy immediately ran for another, andnothing would do but mamma must put one foot on each. Carrie broughta cushion to put behind her, and Daisy, vanishing into the library,presently reappeared, rolling along with a sofa pillow in each hand,and was quite grieved when she found that mamma could not well makeuse of all three. Then Carrie bringing a fan, and fanning mamma, Daisymust do the same, and scratched mamma's nose, and banged her head, andthumped her cheek with the enormous Japanese affair which would aloneserve her purpose; to all of which mamma submitted with the meekestresignation, only kissing the dear little, blundering nurse, wheneversuch mishaps occurred, and saying,--
"Not quite so hard, darling."
And meanwhile Nellie, with that horrid lump in her throat, could donothing but stand leaning against the piazza railing, wishing--oh, somuch!--that she had gone with Carrie when she asked her, and so sparedmamma all this fatigue. Mamma had uttered no word of reproach; she knewthat none was needed just now, although she feared that under the sametemptation Nellie would do the same thing again.
But what greater reproach could there be than that pale face andlanguid voice, and the knowledge that but for her selfishness--yes,selfishness, Nellie could not shut her eyes to it--mamma need not havegone to the beach.
And she knew that it was necessary and right that her mother shouldbe shielded from all possible fatigue, trouble, and anxiety; she knewthat they had all come to Newport this summer because the doctor hadrecommended that air as best for her, and that papa had taken thissmall but pretty cottage at a rather inconvenient expense, so that shemight be quite comfortable, have all her family about her, and gainall the benefit possible. Every one was so anxious and careful abouther, as there was need to be; and she had improved so much the lastfortnight in this lovely air, and under such loving care.
And now! She had been the first one to cause her any fatigue orrisk,--she who had meant to be such a good and thoughtful young nurse.
To be sure, she had never dreamed that mamma would take Carrie to thebeach, but still it was all her fault. Oh dear! oh dear!
Carrie and Daisy chattered away to one another and to their mother,while the latter sat silently resting in her easy-chair, thinking moreof Nellie than of them, thinking anxiously too.
Suddenly a choking sob broke in upon the children's prattle,--a sobthat would have its way, half stifled though it was.
"Nellie, dear!" said Mrs. Ransom. "Come here, my child,"--as Nellieturned to run away.
Nellie came with her hands over her face.
"Don't feel so badly, dear. I am not so very tired, and I do not thinkit will hurt me," said Mrs. Ransom. "I thought I was stronger than itseems I am; but
another time we will both be more careful, hey?"
And she drew away Nellie's hand, and tenderly kissed her hot, wet cheek.
Nellie went down upon one of the pair of stools occupied by hermother's feet, somewhat to Daisy's disgust, who only forgave her byreason of the distress she saw her in, and buried her face on her knee.
She was never a child of many words, and just now they failed heraltogether; but her mother needed none.
"What did Nellie do? Did she hurt herself?" asked the wondering Daisy.
"No," said Carrie. "She hasn't hurt herself, but she"--Carrie'sexplanations were not apt to prove balm to a wounded spirit, and hermother checked her by uplifted finger and a warning shake of her head,taking up the word herself.
"No," she said to Daisy. "Nellie is troubled about something, but wewon't talk about it now."
"Yes, we'll never mind, won't we?" said Daisy. "But I'll fan her tomake her feel better."
And, suiting the action to the word, she slipped down from her perchbeside her mother, and began to labor vigorously about Nellie's headand shoulders with her ponderous instrument.
Somehow this struck Nellie as funny, and even in the midst of herpenitent distress she was obliged to give a low laugh; a nervous littlelaugh it was, too, as her mother noticed.
"She's 'most better now," said Daisy, in a loud whisper, and with aconfidential nod at mamma. "I fought I'd cure her up. This is a verynice fan when people don't feel well, or feel sorry," she added, as shepaused for a moment, with an admiring look at the article in question;"it makes such a lot of wind."
And she returned desperately to her work, bringing down the fan with awhack on Nellie's head, and then apologizing with--
"Oh! I didn't mean to give you that little tap, Nellie; it will waggleabout so in my hands."
Nellie laughed again, she really could not help it, though she feltashamed of herself for doing so; and now she raised her head, wipedher eyes, and smiled at Daisy; the little one fully believing that herattentions had brought about this pleasing result.
Perhaps they had.
But although cheerfulness was for the time restored, poor Nellie'stroubles had not yet come to an end for that evening.