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_LITTLE SUNBEAMS._
IV.
JESSIE'S PARROT.
=By the Author of this Volume.=
I.
LITTLE SUNBEAMS.
By JOANNA H. MATHEWS, Author of the "Bessie Books."
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
II.
THE FLOWERETS.
A series of Stories on the Commandments. 6 vols. In a box $3.60
"It is not easy to say too good a word for this admirable series.Interesting, graphic, impressive, they teach with great distinctnessthe cardinal lessons which they would have the youthful readerlearn."--_S. S. Times._
III.
THE BESSIE BOOKS.
6 vols. In a box $7.50
"Bessie is a very charming specimen of little girlhood. It is a lovelystory of home and nursery life among a family of bright, merry littlechildren."--_Presbyterian._
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,_New York_.
Jessie's Parrot.
FRONTISPIECE.]
JESSIE'S PARROT.
"A HAUGHTY SPIRIT GOETH BEFORE A FALL."
"He that is down need fear no fall, He that is low no pride, He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide."
BY
JOANNA H. MATHEWS,
AUTHOR OF THE "BESSIE BOOKS" AND THE "FLOWERETS."
NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 530 BROADWAY. 1876.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
CAMBRIDGE: PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE NEW SCHOLAR 9
II. AN EXCURSION 31
III. JESSIE AND HER GRANDFATHER 52
IV. THE PARROT 69
V. GRANDMAMMA HOWARD 90
VI. JEALOUSY 110
VII. A MISFORTUNE 129
VIII. "THE SPIDER AND THE FLY" 148
IX. A GUILTY CONSCIENCE 168
X. A GAME OF CHARACTERS 189
XI. CONFESSION 205
XII. THE FAIR 223
JESSIE'S PARROT.
I.
_THE NEW SCHOLAR._
"Fanny Leroy is going away from our school," said Carrie Ransom onemorning to Belle Powers and two or three more of her young schoolmates.
"Oh, dear! I'm sorry," said Belle.
"So am I," said Dora Johnson. "Why is she going?"
"Has she finished her education, and is she never going to school anymore?" asked Mabel Walton.
"Why, no," said Belle; "she's nothing but a little girl; and you don'tfinish your education till you're quite grown up and have long dresses."
"Why is she going away?" asked Lily. "I don't want her to go. I likeFanny."
"So do I. She's real nice," said Carrie; "but she is going, for all,'cause her father and mother and all her family are going to Europe andshe is going with them."
"I wish she wouldn't," said Belle; and one and another echoed theirsorrow at the loss of their schoolmate.
Fanny had always been well liked in the school; but now that they wereabout to lose her the little girls found that they were even more fondof her than they had supposed, and many regrets were expressed when, amoment later, she came in accompanied by Gracie Howard.
Fanny herself was very melancholy and low, for this was to be the lastday at school, as she informed the other children; the journey toEurope having been decided upon rather suddenly, and the departure wasto take place within a few days. Nevertheless, although she was sorryto part with her teacher and classmates, and in mortal dread of thevoyage, she felt herself rather of a heroine, and entitled to be mademuch of.
"We'll have an empty place in our school then," said Belle.
"No," said Fanny, "for my cousin Hattie is coming to take my place; itis all arranged, and Miss Ashton says she can come."
"Is she nice?" asked Lily.
"Well--yes," answered Fanny, half doubtfully.
"You don't seem to think she's so _very_," said Belle.
No, Fanny evidently had her own opinion on this subject; but as shewas not a child who was ready to speak ill of the absent, she wouldnot say more than she could help. But the interest and curiosity ofher schoolmates were aroused, and they could not be satisfied withouthearing more.
"I know Hattie," said Gracie Howard, who was more intimate with Fannyand her family than any of the other children,--"I know Hattie, and Ilike her. She thinks I am very nice. She told me so."
This was plainly the highest of recommendations in Gracie's eyes. Anyone who admired her was sure of her favor; but this fact did not havequite as much weight with her companions as it did with herself, andthey turned once more to Fanny.
"But tell us, Fanny," said Lily Norris, "why don't you like her so verymuch?"
Fanny looked, as she felt, uncomfortable at this close question.
"Why," she answered reluctantly, "I do like her; she's my cousin, youknow, so I have to; but then--but then--I think I'll let you wait tillshe comes to find out the kind of girl she is. Maybe you'll like hervery much. Gracie does."
Fanny had her own doubts whether Gracie or any of the others wouldalways continue to like Hattie as well as they might do upon a firstacquaintance; but she very properly and generously resolved not to telltales and prejudice the minds of the other children against the newcomer. Better to give Hattie all the chance she could and let it be herown fault if she were not popular with her classmates.
I cannot say that Fanny reasoned this out in just such words; but thekind thought was in her mind, and she resolved to hold her peace andsay nothing unkind about her cousin. Would Hattie have done as much forher or for any one else? You shall judge for yourself by and by.
The parting with Fanny was rather a sad one, for the children were allfond of her, and she took it so very hardly herself, declaring thatshe never expected to see any one of them again. For Fanny, thougha very good and amiable little girl, was one who was apt to "borrowtrouble," as the saying is; that is, she was always worrying herselfabout misfortunes which would, could, or might happen to herself or herfriends.
Therefore she now expressed her expectation of never seeing any ofher young friends again, and when Lily very naturally inquired if thefamily meant to stay "for ever an' ever an' ever," said, "No, butpeople were very often drowned when they went to Europe in a steamer,and very likely she would be."
Nor was she to be persuaded to take a more cheerful view of the future,even when Dora Johnson suggested that many more people crossed theocean and returned in safety than were lost upon it. She was determinedto dwell upon the possibilities, and even probabilities of her beingshipwrecked, and took leave of her schoolmates with a view to such afate.
"Fanny did not act as if she thought we'd like her cousin Hattie verymuch, did she?" questioned Nellie Ransom as she walked homeward withGracie Howard, Dora Johnson, and Laura Middleton.
"No, she did not," said Lau
ra. "Fanny don't tell tales or say unkindthings about people, but it was quite plain she does not think so verymuch of Hattie Leroy."
"I know the reason why," said Gracie.
"What is it?" asked Laura.
"Fanny said something very hateful about me," answered Gracie, "andHattie told me of it; and just for that Fanny was mad at Hattie."
"Well, I should think Fanny might be mad," said Laura. "Hattie had noright to tell you if Fanny didn't mean her to, and I don't believe shedid."
"No," said Gracie, "I don't suppose Fanny did want me to know it; butthen she had no business to say it."
"Hattie had no business to repeat it," said Dora indignantly; "if sheis that kind of a girl I don't wonder Fanny don't like her, and I wishshe was not coming to our school."
"What did Fanny say?" asked Laura, who had her full share of curiosity.
"She said--she-er--she-er--I'm not going to tell you what she said,"answered Gracie, who was really ashamed to confess what slight causefor offence Fanny had given, and that it was her own wounded self-lovewhich made it appear so "hateful."
But although Gracie would not tell her schoolmates, I shall tell you,for I know all about it.
The mighty trouble was just this.
Hattie Leroy had but lately come to live in the city, and just when herparents were looking around for a good school to send her to, Fanny'spapa and mamma made up their minds to take her abroad. This left herplace vacant in Miss Ashton's class, and, as you have heard, it was atonce secured for her little cousin.
Meanwhile Gracie and Hattie, who had met at Fanny's house, had struckup a violent _intimate friendship_ and were now much together.
As may be supposed, Hattie was very curious respecting her futureteacher and classmates, and asked both Fanny and Gracie many questionsabout them.
But, although the accounts given by the two children agreed in mostpoints, yet, in some way, the story told by Gracie left a verydifferent impression from that of Fanny. The latter thought her teacherand classmates very nearly, if not quite, perfect, and bestowed herpraise freely and without stint. Well, and if you had heard Gracie'sreport you might have said that she did the same; but wheneverGracie said one good word for another she said a dozen for herself.One girl was a very bright scholar, but she stood second to Gracie;another was always punctual and steady, but Gracie had still a highernumber of marks for these two virtues--or at least if she did not_have_ them, she _deserved_ them, and it was the fault of some oneelse that they had not fallen to her share. Nellie Ransom wrote suchfine compositions; but then, they were by no means to be comparedto Gracie's own,--oh, dear, no! So it was with each and every one;whatever merit any child in the class possessed, Gracie's went beyondit.
So at last Hattie quite naturally asked Fanny if Gracie were really thebest child, the finest scholar, and the most admired and praised of allher classmates.
"Why, no," answered Fanny; "Gracie is a very good scholar, and 'mostalways knows her lessons perfectly; but Nellie is even better than sheis, and has kept the head of the spelling and history classes ever solong. And she generally writes the best compositions; but Gracie don'tthink so, and always says Miss Ashton is unjust if she gives Nellie thehighest marks. But Gracie _is_ very smart, and can learn quicker thanany of the rest of us; and she 'most always behaves well in school too."
"Better than any one else?" asked Hattie.
"No," said Fanny, rather indignantly; "there's lots of the childrenthat are just as good as she is. She's not the best one in the schoolat all. She's good enough, but not so wonderful."
"She thinks she is," said Hattie.
"That's nothing," answered Fanny; "people's thinking they are a thingdon't make them that thing, you know."
"Then you think Gracie is conceited and thinks a great deal of herself,do you?" asked Hattie.
"Why, yes," answered Fanny, though half reluctantly; "no one could helpthinking that, you know."
Fanny expressed herself in this manner more as a way of _excusing_ herown opinion of Gracie than as accusing her little playmate.
"Who do you think _is_ the best child in all the school?" asked Hattie.
"Well," answered Fanny, after a moment's reflection, "I b'lieve BellePowers is. At least I think it is the best in her to be as good as sheis, for she has to try pretty hard sometimes."
"Why?" asked inquisitive Hattie again.
"Because she has no mother, and she has always been a good deal spoiledby her papa and her old nurse. But I never saw any child who wanted tobe good more than Belle, and she tries very much; and we are all veryfond of her, and Miss Ashton excuses her things sometimes because sheis sorry for her."
"Don't that make you mad?" said Hattie.
"No," answered Fanny with much energy; "we'd be real mean if we weremad when Belle has no mother. No, indeed; no one could bear to haveBelle scolded; we all love her too much."
Now this was seemingly a most innocent conversation; was it not? andone could hardly have supposed that it would have made trouble for poorFanny as it did.
Gracie and Fanny lived within a few doors of one another, the latter alittle nearer to Miss Ashton's house than the former; and Gracie was inthe habit of stopping for Fanny on her way to school that they mightwalk there together.
But one morning a day or two after this, Fanny, standing by the windowand watching for her young friend as usual, saw her go by with hermaid without so much as turning her head or casting her eye up at thewindow where she must know Fanny awaited her.
"It is the queerest thing I ever knew," said Fanny to her father as shewalked along by his side a few moments later; "it 'most seems as ifGracie was offended with me to do so; but then she can't be, for I havenot done a thing to her. I shall ask her right away, as soon as I am atschool."
But Fanny was only just in time to take off her hat and cloak and go toher seat before the bell rang, and so had no opportunity before schoolto inquire into the cause of Gracie's strange behavior.
There was no need of words, however, to show that Gracie was indeedoffended with her, for averted looks and scornful tossings of the headshowed that plainly enough. Poor Fanny was hurt and uncomfortable, andvainly tried to imagine what she could have done that offended Gracieso much.
She ran to her as soon as recess gave her liberty to speak.
"Why, Gracie! what is the matter?" she asked. "Why did you not stop forme this morning?"
"'Cause I did not choose to," answered Gracie shortly.
"Are you mad with me?" asked Fanny, putting a very unnecessaryquestion, for it was quite plain to all beholders that this wasGracie's state of mind.
"Yes, I am; and I have a good right to be too," answered Gracie, hereyes flashing at Fanny.
"What _have_ I done?" asked the innocent Fanny.
"You need not pretend you don't know, Miss Hateful," replied Gracie,"nor pretend you haven't a guilty conscience. I've found you out! I'llnever be friends with you again."
"You ought to tell Fanny what it is, and let her make it up," saidBelle.
"She can't make it up. I've found her out before it was too late. Sheis a false, treacherous friend," said Gracie, waxing magnificent andsevere in her reproaches, as she imagined.
Poor Fanny, a tender-hearted, sensitive little thing, was overwhelmedby these upbraidings, which she was not conscious of deserving; butneither her entreaties nor those of the other children could draw morethan this from Gracie, who turned away from them with an air of greatoffence, and holding her head very high with insulted dignity.
"Augh!" said Lily Norris, who generally took up the cudgels indefence of any one whom she considered oppressed or injured, and whogenerally contrived to be quite as cutting and severe in her remarksas the offender had been; "you had better take care, Gracie; some daythat nose of yours won't come down again, it is growing so used tosticking itself up at people. If when you're grown up people call you'stuck-up-nose Miss Howard,' you won't feel very complimented; but youcan just remember it is the consequence of yo
ur being such a proudywhen you was young."
Gracie made no reply, except by raising both nose and head higherstill, which expressive motion Lily answered by saying,--
"Oh, _don't_ I feel like giving you a good slap!" with which she walkedaway, fearing perhaps that she might be too strongly tempted to put herdesire into execution.
Fanny was a good deal distressed, and the other children all felt muchsympathy for her, for, as you will doubtless do, they thought Gracie'sbehavior not only unkind but also unjust.
For, although such scenes as this were becoming quite too frequentin consequence of Gracie's ever increasing vanity and conceit, shegenerally was ready enough to proclaim the cause of offence; butnow she was not only "hateful," as Lily called it, but "mysterious"also, and would give Fanny no opportunity of explaining the supposedgrievance.
Fanny went home both unhappy and vexed,--Gracie still carrying matterswith a high hand and refusing even to walk on the same side of thestreet with her--and finding her cousin there, as was quite natural,she told her of the trouble with Gracie.
Had Fanny not been too much disturbed to pay much attention to Hattie'smanner, she might have seen that she looked uncomfortable when shetold her story, fidgeting and coloring and having so little to saythat Fanny thought her wanting in sympathy. But it was not until thenext day that she discovered that Hattie was really the cause of thedifficulty with Gracie. By that time she had heard that she was to sailfor Europe in a few days, and this made her more unwilling than ever tobe on bad terms with her young friend.
Meeting Gracie in the street, the poor little grieved heart overflowed,and rushing up to her, Fanny exclaimed, "Oh, Gracie! don't be crosswith me any more, for I'm going to Europe, and I expect I'll be drownedin the steamer, and then you'll be sorry you did not make up with me."
This affecting prospect somewhat mollified Gracie's vexation; but stillshe answered in a tone of strong resentment,--
"Well, then; and why did you say hateful things about me to Hattie?"
"I didn't," said Fanny, who had so little intention of making unkindremarks about Gracie that she had really forgotten her conversationwith Hattie. "I didn't. I never said a thing about you."
"Hattie said you did," answered Gracie; "she says you told her Ithought myself very wonderful, but I was not; and that 'most all thegirls were better scholars than me."
"I didn't," said Fanny indignantly.
"And she says," continued Gracie, "that you said 'cause I thoughtmyself good did not make me good, and that Nellie wrote bettercompositions than I did. And she says"--this was plainly the first andworst count in Gracie's eyes--"she says you said no one could helpknowing I was conceited and stuck up."
This last speech suddenly recalled to Fanny's mind what she _had_ said,and she was dismayed; nor could she see how she was to explain it toGracie.
She was fond of Gracie, who, when her self-conceit did not come in herway, was really a pleasant and lovable child; and, oh! how she did wishshe had never allowed Hattie to lead her into that conversation abouther schoolmates.
She colored violently and exclaimed,--
"Well, I did say that, but I did not say it in that way, Gracie. Idon't quite know how it was, but it did not seem so bad as that when Isaid it. And Hattie asked me, so I couldn't help saying what I thought;but it wasn't of my own accord and--and--well, you know, Gracie, mostall of us do think you think a good deal of yourself--but--oh, dear! itwas too mean for Hattie to go and tell you; and somehow I suppose she'smade you think it was worse than it was. 'Cause I didn't mean to sayany thing hateful about you; but Hattie asked such a lot of questions,and I never thought she'd go and tell; and I'm going away, and I expectI'll never come back, and, oh, dear, it's too mean!"
All this Fanny poured forth in a very distressed and excited manner,finishing by a burst of tears.
Yes, it was indeed "too mean," and Gracie felt that Fanny had beenshabbily treated. She had listened to Hattie's tell-tale report witha half-ashamed feeling, knowing that Fanny could never have thoughtthat her words would be repeated; and, although anger and mortificationhad taken a strong hold upon her heart, she could not help seeing thatFanny had more cause of complaint than she had.
So she put her arm about Fanny's neck, and, with what she consideredmagnanimous forgiveness, told her not to cry any more and she would"stop being mad."
And when they talked the matter over and Fanny recalled what she _had_said, both of Gracie and of the other children in the class, it couldnot but be seen that Hattie had exaggerated as well as "told tales," somaking mischief and bringing discord between the two little friends.And had Fanny been revengeful, or too proud to overlook Gracie'sunkindness and beg her to tell her what had come between them thetrouble might have been lasting, and they have parted for a long timewith bitterness and resentment rankling in their breasts.
But now there was peace between them once more, though Gracie did stillsecretly feel some vexation at Fanny for even allowing that she couldbe wrong, and took great credit to herself for being so forgiving andgenerous.
And now you will not wonder that Fanny did not feel disposed to thinkHattie "so very nice," although she, far more generous and charitablethan her cousin, would not tell tales and prejudice the minds of herfuture schoolmates against her.
But Gracie hardly thought the less of Hattie for what she had learnedof her; for she always liked any one who admired her, and this Hattieprofessed to do; perhaps she really did so, for, as I have said, Graciewas a pleasant child, and very clever in many things.