Little Bessie, the Careless Girl, or, Squirrels, Nuts, and Water-Cresses

by Mary Hazelton Blanchard Wade

  CHAPTER V.

  LOST.

  "I CAN'T find it," said Bessie, about a month after the fishing party."I have hunted high and low. I cannot find it anywhere."

  Her mother, whose health was now greatly improving, was sitting in thekitchen by the blazing fire, for the weather was gradually growingcolder, and the logs were piled up a little higher on the hearth, dayby day. She was busy finishing quilting a white counterpane for aneighbor who employed her frequently to sew for her family. It was fullof quaint devices, stars and diamonds forming the border, while in thecentre was a wonderful little lamb in the act of performing some veryfrisky gambols.

  "Cannot find what?" demanded Bessie's mother.

  "My Madeira nut!" exclaimed Bessie, in a tone of despair. "Oh, whatshall I do? what shall I do?"

  Her mother stopped quilting and turned to look at her.

  "Where did you put it last?" she asked. "Surely, Bessie, you ought toremember that."

  "I have never put it in but one spot," replied Bessie; "I left it inthe drawer of my little table. When you grew better, and the tablewasn't needed any more in your bedroom for you to stand your medicineson, I got Nathan to help me take it up stairs in the garret, justas you bade me, that day last week when he was here spending theafternoon. I thought I would still keep the nut there, for I had grownused to the place, and I liked to go to the drawer and pull it out tolook at it sometimes. Oh dear, oh dear!" and Bessie burst into tears.

  "Perhaps you haven't searched well," said her mother; "come, I'll go upstairs with you. I shouldn't wonder if it had got caught in the top ofthe drawer. I have heard of such things. I lost a handkerchief that waymyself once."

  "But," sobbed Bessie, "it couldn't get caught like that without beingbroken, because it was so thin shelled, and then I should have seensome of the pieces; or the money would have fallen back into thedrawer, and I would have found _that_."

  "How much was in it?" asked her mother. "There could not have been agreat deal more than the very first silver Mr. Dart brought you for thecresses, for the rest we have spent from time to time as fast as it wasreceived. I was sorry enough to do it too."

  "I wasn't," said Bessie, brightening up a little through her tears, "Iwas glad and thankful, mother, to have it to spend. If it had not beenfor the cresses, what would have become of us all the while you were sosick?"

  "God always provides for the poor and needy," said her mother gravely,"and I am certain that He who knows even when sparrows fall would notlet us suffer. If this help had not sprung up for us through Mr. Dart,something else would have presented itself. Come, now, let us go to thegarret and look for the money."

  Bessie darted ahead of her mother as they went up the stairs, with abound and a spring that brought her to the head of the flight when hermother was on the second step. She was young and agile, and besides shewas greatly excited and in haste to begin the search. She did not gainany thing by her speed, however, for she had to wait at the landinguntil her mother had toiled slowly up.

  "Now let us look at the drawer," said her mother, when, after pausinga moment to breathe, she moved towards the table. It was a poor littleshaky thing, and of a very dilapidated appearance. It was not to bewondered at that as soon as her recovery made its presence unnecessaryin her room, she had banished it to the garret whence it had beenbrought.

  "You see there is no trace of it," said Bessie, mournfully, as shewatched her mother remove the articles the drawer contained one by one.

  No, it was not there indeed.

  Bessie pulled out the drawer, and even took the trouble to examine theaperture which contained it, but all was in vain.

  "It is certainly very strange," said her mother. "I do not see how, ifit were really in this drawer, it could have got out without help."

  "Nor I either," added Bessie, half laughing at the idea of a nutwalking off of itself. "Oh, if I could only find it! I do not mind thenut so much, although dear uncle James gave it to me last Christmas, asI do the money, for you know, mother, I asked you if I might not keepit forever, that is as long as I lived, to remember Mr. Dart's kindnessby, and to show, when I grew up, as my first earnings. Oh, I was soproud of those three pieces of silver!"

  "What were they?" asked her mother, looking over the contents of thedrawer again.

  "_Don't you remember?_" exclaimed Bessie, in a tone of great surprise,as though it were really remarkable to have forgotten. "Don't youremember? There were two twenty-five cent pieces and a ten cent piece!"and Bessie broke into fresh weeping again.

  "Don't cry about it, Bessie," said her mother, "you know crying cannotbring them back."

  "I wouldn't care," said the little girl, "if it had been _yesterday's_money, but it was the first, _the very first_ I ever earned of myself,and I meant to save it always!"

  "I think I can tell you exactly how it happened, my child. Just look atthe untidy appearance of your drawer. There are scraps in it of a greatmany things that ought not to be there. Here is a broken slate, yourworn-out work-basket, your summer sun-bonnet, empty bottles, spools ofcotton, and last but not least, about a quart of hickory nuts,--a nicearray, I am sure."

  Bessie hung her head. She was ashamed to have her disorderly waysremarked. A want of neatness was her greatest fault.

  "I was just going to clear it up to-morrow," she murmured, twitchingrather uneasily at her apron strings.

  "Oh, my little girl, that 'just going' of yours is one of the saddestthings I can hear you say. You are always '_just going_,' and yet thetime seldom comes that you do as you intend. You are full of goodintentions that you are either too lazy or too thoughtless ever tofulfil. If I did not watch over you very sharply, every thing youhave would be like this miserable looking drawer, a complete mass ofdisorder."

  "Oh, I hope not!" cried Bessie, quite appalled at the news.

  "Now," continued her mother, "I can trace the losing of your money backto your want of neatness. In all probability, when you came to thisdrawer some time to get a few of your hickory nuts, you have caughtup the Madeira among the others, carried it down stairs, and left thewhole pile lying as you often do, somewhere around the garden tillyou feel in the humor for cracking them. I want to know, in the firstplace, why your hickory nuts were ever put in this drawer among yourbooks and spools of cotton."

  Bessie had been growing warmer and warmer while her mother wasspeaking, until it seemed to her as though the tips of her ears wereon fire. Conviction forced itself upon her mind that her Madeira nutmust have gone in the way her mother described, for she remembereddistinctly having often taken two or three handfuls of nuts andcarried them in her apron down to the garden, leaving them lyingcarelessly about her favorite resorts, under the old apple-tree forinstance, or on the big flat stone by the brook. She had many just suchidle, unsystematic ways of managing. She felt she was in the wrong, soshe scarcely knew how to defend herself.

  "I don't know why I put the nuts there, mother," she said, "unless itwas to get them out of the way. They are those that are left of thebasket full I found in the woods by Mr. Dart's farm, one day when Nellyand I went there together."

  "When _will_ you learn neatness, Bessie?"

  "I don't know," sobbed Bessie, "never, I 'spect. Seems to me I growworse and worse. I don't believe I shall be half as good when I am tenas I am now when I'm only nine. I wish I had never gone nutting, andthen this would not have happened."

  "No," said her mother, smiling, "it never would, for then in allprobability you would not have met and become friendly with our goodMr. Dart. Don't make rash wishes, my little Bess, because you arevexed."

  "Oh, now I know," cried Bessie, as if struck with a sudden idea, "I putthe nuts in that drawer, mother, for _safety_. Before that they werelying spread out to dry on the floor, over by that barrel. I rememberthinking that they were thinning out pretty fast, and that the ratsmust have carried some away. I thought that if I put them in thedrawer they would last until I used them up."

  "Well," said her mother, "that betters
the case a little; but still Imust insist that you could have found many more appropriate places. Ifyou had put them in the barrel it would have been far better than amongyour spools, and I do not know but that it would have been quite assafe."

  Bessie's mother went up to the barrel in question, as she spoke, andscarcely knowing what she was doing, shoved it a little with her foot.It was empty, and yielded easily. This change in its position broughtto view the space between it and the wall, and there, what did Bessieand her mother see but a nice little pile of hickory nut-shells!

  Bessie uttered an exclamation and sprang forward. She took up two orthree, and found that a hole had been neatly nibbled in each and themeat subtracted.

  "I told you so," she said sorrowfully, letting the shells drop slowlyback to the pile; "now I know why my nuts disappeared so fast. Ithought at first that Nathan must have helped himself to a few, whenhe has been here. He often runs up stairs to get something or other toplay with, when he stays the whole afternoon, and I guessed the nutshad tempted him. Poor Nathan! I ought to have known better."

  Bessie's mother stooped and examined every shell in the pile.

  "Perhaps," said she, "master rat has carried off the Madeira too."

  "Oh, I hope so," cried the little girl; "do you see any of the piecesof it, mother? He could not harm the money you know, and that is what Icare most about getting back."

  "It is not here," said her mother, rising, "but perhaps we shall hearsomething of it yet. I want you to put on your sun-bonnet and lookcarefully about the garden. Take an hour, or two hours if necessary,but do it thoroughly. I must go down stairs now to my sewing."

  Bessie found it very tedious, sad work searching for her losttreasure that afternoon. She went to each of her favorite haunts, andexamined them with great minuteness, but no trace of the nut was tobe discovered. One thing seemed to her as very strange, however, andthat was, that of all the small supplies of nuts which she had latelycarried down to the garden, and of which she did not remember even tohave cracked a single one, not so much as a fragment of a shell wasnow to be found. Only the day before she had left a little strawberrybasket half filled, on the big stone by the brook, to which the readerremembers she once led Mr. Dart to survey the cresses. She had meantto sit there and crack and pick them out at once, at her leisure, butsomething attracting her attention as usual, she did not do so, butdeserted both basket and nuts. The basket was there still, but to hersurprise, it was quite empty. It lay on its side near where she hadleft it. No mark of any one having been there was to be seen in themuddy grass.

  Bessie took up the basket and gazed at it in silent astonishment. Whatcould it mean? Who would help themselves to her nuts in this way? andwhy was the basket not carried off also? She was still sitting on thestone thinking the whole singular affair over, when she heard Nathancall to her from the next house, where he lived. She looked up, andthere he was leaning over the fence. She had just been thinking of him,and it made her feel unpleasantly to see him.

  "Bess," cried he, "what do you think? father is going to give me a rideto town to-morrow."

  Bessie scarcely heard him as she rose, and holding up her empty basket,said reproachfully,--

  "Oh, Nathan, how could you climb over the fence and take my nuts?"

  "Nuts!" echoed Nathan, "what nuts? I don't know any thing about yournuts."

  "Somebody does," said Bessie, "for this basket was half full yesterday,and now it is empty. I left it here on the stone all night."

  "I never saw it," said Nathan; "that's mighty pretty of you to accuse afellow of stealing. You had better be a little careful."

  "I didn't say you _stole_, Nathan, I only--"

  "Who cares for your old nuts?" interrupted Nathan, "they're not worththe carrying off. Next thing you'll be saying I meddle with yourcresses."

  "No," said Bessie, a little sadly, "I shouldn't say that. There areonly two or three baskets-full of nice ones left, and by next week Mr.Dart will have taken them all to market. I don't _care_ about my nuts,Nathan, it isn't that, but I should like to know who took them."

  "Well, _I_ didn't, anyhow," said Nathan, "and since you are so crossabout it, I shan't stay to talk to you."

  He clambered down from the fence and walked away whistling, with hishands in his pockets.

  Some way, Bessie felt a presentiment that Nathan knew more than he saidabout the nuts. She concluded to go in and ask her mother if it couldpossibly be that he had taken the missing money.

  Her mother listened in silence to all she had to utter on the subject.Bessie told her that Nathan was aware, and had been aware from thebeginning, where the Madeira nut was kept. She said he was presentwhen she first put it in the drawer, which was indeed true, as thereader knows, and that often since, they had looked at it together.

  "My dear," said her mother, when Bessie concluded, "I do not see thatyou have any thing more than _conjecture_ on which to found yoursuspicions. It is very wrong to act on conjecture only."

  "But everybody thinks Nat is a bad boy," said Bessie eagerly; "theneighbors say he will do almost any thing. Only last Sunday he pinnedthe minister's coat tails to the shade of the church window, as hestood talking to Deacon Danbury, after meeting was over. When theminister went to walk off, down came the shade on his head and smashedhis new hat. _I_ think that a boy who will do that would take thingsthat do not belong to him."

  "Perhaps he might," said her mother quietly.

  "Well, shall I ask him about it," demanded Bessie.

  "My dear child," said her mother gravely, "your ideas of justiceare one-sided. The world would not thrive if every one acted on theprinciples you seem to advocate. Many an honest man might be imprisonedas a thief if people should take mere _conjecture_ for proof of guilt,while at the same time, many a thief would pass for an honest man. Inlaw, all persons are supposed innocent, until they are _proved_ guilty.You did not _see_ Nathan take any thing belonging to you, nor do youknow any one who did. It would be the height of cruelty then, toaccuse him without absolute proof."

  "Yes," said Bessie, "but suppose he _did_ take the nut after all."

  "Then," said her mother, "we can only leave the case to that Judge whodoeth all things well. It is better for us to suppose him innocent evenwhile he may be guilty, than to suppose him guilty when he is innocent."

  "I wish I _knew_," said Bessie, as she took up her shears and basket togo out to get the cresses for the next day's market.

  "The cold weather will soon put a stop to the cresses, I am afraid,"remarked her mother, after a pause.

  "Yes," said Bessie, "Mr. Dart says they are getting poor now; they donot grow fast after cutting, any more, on account of the frost."

  "Never mind," said her mother cheerfully, "in the spring, which afterall is not so _very_ far off, they will become fine again, and then youcan begin to sell as fast as ever. If I am well then, as I hope andtrust I shall be, we must not touch a penny of your money, Bessie. Itshall all be saved to send you regularly to Miss Milly's school, andbuy books for you to learn out of, and perhaps, who knows, there willbe something left to put in the bank besides. This fall the cresseshave fed our poor, suffering bodies, but next spring, if nothinghappens, they shall feed my Bessie's mind."

  "School!" cried Bessie, dropping both the basket and the scissorsin her delight, "shall I _really_ go to school? And all through thewater-cresses? Why, we never thought our dear little brook would makeus so rich, did we, mother?"

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE NEST.

  ONE clear and cold morning in winter, as Bessie was passing along theroad that led by Nelly's home, she heard Martin call her from the barnwhere he was at work. He saw her passing and beckoned to her to cometo him. Bessie had the singular habit which most children possess ofstopping to ask why she was summoned, when at the same time she fullyintended to answer the call in person. So she stood still, and in aloud voice cried,

  "Mar-TIN, what _is_ it? What do you want of me?"

  "Come and see!" replied Martin, "I'v
e something nice to show you!" andthen he resumed his place at the hay-cutting machine, at which he hadbeen busy when he espied her. He was mincing the hay for the cattle toeat.

  Bessie still stood irresolute. She meant to come, but she desired hercuriosity to be gratified before she did so.

  "Mar-TIN?"

  "Well?"

  "Can't you tell me _now_ what it is?"

  "No," replied Martin, going on with his hay chopping; "I guess you willhave to come and see for yourself. It almost splits my throat to becalling out to you so."

  "I think you might tell me," said Bessie, opening the gate and walkingtowards him; "you could have done it in half the time that you havebeen talking about it. Mercy! have you cut all that pile of hay thismorning?"

  "A couple of white sheep came running eagerly up toMartin's outstretched hand."--p. 125.]

  "Yes," said Martin; "it's for the horses. I sprinkle a little water onit, and they like it a great deal better than when it is dry and uncut.It's healthier for them too."

  "I am glad I don't live on it," said Bessie. "I should be like thehorse that his master fed on shavings,--just as I got used to it Ishould die."

  "Very likely," said Martin, laughing. "Come, and I'll show you what Ispoke about." Bessie followed him as he led the way across the yard tothe part of the barn where the large folding-doors were situated. Theywere wide open, and the clear winter sunshine streamed on the floor. Anold wagon and a ladder were placed across this opening, so that noone could come in or go out without climbing over.

  "What is this for?" asked Bessie. "This wagon don't belong here,Martin. I never saw it here before."

  "That's to keep the cows out," said Martin, smiling. "We have treasuresin this part of the barn that it would not do for the cattle to get at.Here Nanny, here Jinny!"

  A pattering of little hoofs was heard on the wooden floor, and a coupleof white sheep came running eagerly up to Martin's outstretched hand.They rubbed themselves against it, and showed in various other ways howglad they were to see him.

  "Aren't they pretty?" said Bessie admiringly. "Come here, Nanny."

  But Nanny would not touch Bessie's hand, and backed up the barn,shaking her head at the sight of it, and kicking her delicate littleheels in the air.

  "They don't know you yet," said Martin, "but they are very tame, andwould soon become acquainted if you were with them every day as I am.We have had them two weeks, and already they let me play with them.They are cossets."

  "_Cossets_, Martin?"

  "Yes; that means the pets of the flock. The cosset lamb means the petlamb."

  "Pet is a prettier word than cosset," said Bessie; "I should never callthem that. I do wish mother had two such nice sheep. But why do youkeep them shut up here?"

  "You haven't seen all yet," said Martin, smiling; "just creep throughthis place and round by these wheels, and we will go in and find outwhy the cows are kept out and the sheep kept in."

  Martin helped Bessie through the obstructions, and led her to theback of the barn where, nestled in a heap of clean hay that waspiled against the opposite folding doors, she saw a little bundle ofsomething white, in which she could just detect two small, glitteringeyes.

  "It's a lamb," cried Bessie, skipping about as if she were one herself.

  "Two of 'em," said Martin. "Only look here!" and he pulled apartthe loose whisps of hay, and there lay revealed two of the fattest,whitest, and prettiest lambs that ever were seen. They did not seem tolike being admired, but gave utterance to a little sharp cry very muchlike a baby's. Hearing it, one of the sheep trotted up, and pushingbetween them and Martin, quietly began to lick them.

  "That's their mother," said Martin. "They are twins, and only two daysold. The other old sheep is a twin of this old one, and they are sofond of each other that we cannot keep them separate. At first we wereafraid the aunty would injure the young ones, and we shut her out inthe barn-yard, but she came and stood at the door, there by the wagon,and cried so piteously that Mr. Brooks told me she might stay in withher sister and her baby nieces. We could not bear to hear her bleatso."

  "Don't she bite or tread on them?" asked Bessie.

  "No," said Martin, "I think she is very tender with them. This morningone of the men threw a handful of hay accidentally in a lamb's face,and when it tried to push it off but couldn't, what does old aunty dobut walk up and eat it away, every whisp. I thought that was quitebright of her, and kind too. On the whole I think they are a happyfamily."

  "Does Nelly like 'em?" asked Bessie, as she patted the head of the oneMartin called the "aunty."

  "Yes," said Martin, "she thinks they are the handsomest animals on theplace. They grow fonder of her every day."

  "I hope her father don't mean to have them killed," remarked Bessie, alittle sadly.

  "No indeed," cried Martin, "he bought them for pets, and to look prettyrunning about the meadow in the summer time. He says they are too tameand loving to be killed. I shouldn't like to think of such a thing, Iam sure. There,--do see old Moolly poking her head over the wagon! Howshe does want to come in! She always was our pet before, and I supposeit makes her a little jealous. Poor Moolly,--good little Moolly."

  Martin picked up a corn-cob and rubbed the cow's ears. She stood quitestill to let him do it, and when he stopped she stretched out her headfor more and looked at him as if she had not had half her share.

  "Are the little lambs named?" asked Bessie, as she got up from the hayto go.

  "No," said Martin; "Nelly's father told her she might call them anything she wanted, but she thinks they are such funny little long-leggedthings that she cannot find names pretty enough. When they growstronger they will frisk about and be full of play."

  "I mean to run over to the house to see her and ask her about it," saidBessie. "I am real glad you called me, Martin, to look at them."

  Martin went back to his hay-cutting, and Bessie bade him good-by, andskipped along the path to the house. Bessie always skipped instead ofwalking or running, when she was particularly pleased with any thing.On knocking at the farm-house door, she was told to her great sorrowthat Nelly was not within, but when she heard that she had just startedto pay a visit to herself, that sorrow was changed to joy, and sheturned to go home with a very light heart and a pair of very brisk feet.

  "Perhaps I can overtake her," she said to herself; but go as fast asshe could, she saw nothing of Nelly on the road. When she reached home,she was so warm with the exercise that it seemed to her as though theday were a very mild one indeed. As she pushed open the door of thekitchen, her eyes were so bright and her cheeks so red from her littlerun, that her mother looked up from her work and asked what she hadbeen doing.

  "Only racing down the hill to find Nelly," panted Bessie, sinking intoa chair as she spoke. "Isn't she here? I didn't overtake her."

  "No," replied her mother, "Nelly has been here and gone. She was sorryyou were out."

  "Gone!" echoed Bessie. "Well, if that is not too bad! Mrs. Brooks saidshe had just started. I am so sorry. Did she tell you which way she wasgoing?"

  "No," said her mother, "she did not, but she said perhaps she wouldstop on her way back. Come, take off your hat and shawl and hang themup, and then begin hemming one of these towels. I am in a great hurryto get them done. They are Mrs. Raynor's, and I promised to send themhome to-morrow."

  Bessie loved to romp and play much better than to sew, and these wordsof her mother's did not consequently fill her with satisfaction. Sheknew, however, that by sewing their living was to be gained, so shechoked down the fretful words that rose to her lips. She felt that itwas hard enough for her mother to work, without having her repinings toendure also. The glow and cheerful effect of her walk, however, fadedaway as she slowly untied her hood, and hung it with her shawl on a pegbehind the door. She was deeply disappointed at Nelly's absence.

  "I wish she would have waited a little while," she said; "I don't seeher so often now the winter has set in, that I can afford to miss her.Mother, have you seen my
thimble?"

  "What!" said her mother, "lost _again_, Bessie? What shall I do withthis careless girl? There is my old one, you can use that for a littlewhile."

  "Oh, now I remember," cried Bessie, springing up, "I left it in thegarret, in the drawer of the old table, the last time I was there. I'llget it, and be down again in a moment."

  She opened the door at the foot of the stairs, and ran quickly up them.She did not notice that she left the door wide open, and that the coldair rushed into the warm kitchen, nor did she know that her mother,sighing, was obliged to rise from her work and shut it after her.

  On went Bessie, and turning the landing, began the second flight, twosteps at a time, as usual. She was very lightfooted, and owing to herdisappointment about Nelly, she did not feel quite gay enough to humthe little tunes which she generally did when going about the house,so that altogether she scarcely made any noise. Perhaps it was owingto this that, as she reached the head of the garret stairs, she sawsomething run across the floor, evidently alarmed at her unexpectedappearance. She stood still for a moment, hardly knowing what it was,and not wishing to go any further in the fear of frightening it awaybefore she could get a good look at it. She decided at once, however,from its size, that it was not a rat, for it was far too large. It hadtaken refuge behind some old furniture in a corner, and in the hopethat if she kept perfectly still, it would venture out again, she satdown on the top step, and fixed her eyes intently on the spot where shehad beheld it disappear. She had remained thus but a short time whenshe heard hasty footsteps coming from the kitchen, and a voice thatshe recognized as that of Nelly, called her name. She did not answer,for she wanted to unravel the mystery, whatever it might be, and whenNelly, still calling, followed her up to the stairs on which she sat,she put her finger on her lip by way of enjoining silence, and beckonedto her to come to her. Nelly understood in a moment, and slipping offher heavy winter walking shoes, crept up and sat down beside her.

  "Hush!" whispered Bessie, "don't make a sound. There is some sort of alittle animal concealed behind that old fire-board, and I want to seeit come out."

  She spoke so low that Nelly had difficulty in getting at the senseof what she said, but when she did, she nodded slightly, and the twolittle girls began the watch together.

  They sat there a long, long time.

  Once or twice they thought they heard a movement behind the fire-board,but they saw nothing. At last, just as they were becoming very weary ofremaining so long in the cold, Nelly caught sight of a small pointednose, projecting from one side of the board. As this nose moved slowlyforward, a pair of bright little eyes came into view also, rollingrestlessly about, as if seeking to espy danger. It was with difficultythe children could repress the exclamations that were on their lips,but with an effort they did so, and remained just as quiet as before.Encouraged by the dead stillness, the animal advanced still furtherfrom its retreat, peering all the while about it. Its body, as nearas they could see, was spotted gray and white, and so were its prettyears, which were long, and in constant motion. It ran cautiously fromits place of concealment, and at last, with a graceful, hurried spring,landed on the top of Bessie's table. Arrived there, it sat down andlooked about it again. The children did not move. The drawer of thetable, as usual, was partially open, according to Bessie's carelesshabit, and the little creature put its mites of paws carefully in thecrack, bringing them out again almost immediately with a nut, at whichat once it commenced to nibble. It was an odd sight as it sat thereon its hind legs, holding the nut in its front paws, and twisting andturning it from side to side in order to find a good place to plantits sharp teeth. Nelly glanced at Bessie and longed to burst into alaugh, but Bessie signified to her by a movement of her eye-brows andlips that she must not. It was plain enough by this time that thelittle thief was a squirrel. Bessie was quite bewildered at the thoughtthat it had been able to get in the house without her or her mother'sknowledge. She did not know that the race to which the animal belongedis proverbial for its cunning, and that often it steals a way into thehabitations of men for no other purpose than to find seeds and grainson which to live.

  Some accidental movement which Bessie made, at length startled thesquirrel from its sense of security. It leaped lightly from the tableto the floor, and disappeared behind some loose blocks of wood, nearthe fire-board. As it did so, Nelly saw that part of its tail wasmissing, looking as if torn off at about half its length.

  "Bessie!" she exclaimed eagerly, as her companion made a dart for theblocks of wood, "Bessie, as sure as you're alive, that's the samesquirrel we saw in the woods, the day we went nutting."

  "I know it," cried Bessie; "at least I am as sure as I can be, forthat one was like this, spotted white and gray, and each of them hadonly a part of a tail. To think of the little thing being so hungryas to come after my nuts! If I can only find its hole, I'll feed itregularly every day."

  "What _could_ bring it so far from the woods?" cried Nelly, laughing."I never heard of any thing more strange, even in a book."

  "You stay here and watch if it comes out again," said Bessie, "and I'llrun tell mother. Perhaps she can help find its hiding-place."

  Nelly went with her as far as the foot of the stairs to get her shoes,for her feet were now growing very cold. Then she returned to thegarret, but nothing more had been seen of the squirrel when Bessieappeared with her mother.

  "It was here, just here, that it went out of sight," cried Bessie;"somewhere by these blocks and this old fire-board."

  Her mother laughed, and said if there were nothing worse than asquirrel in the house, she should be glad.

  "We must look," she added, "and perhaps we can discover its nest; thatis, if it has one here, for, Bessie, it has just occurred to me thatthis is the way your Madeira nut disappeared. If we can find the nestwe may find your money too," and she began to move out the furniturefrom the wall.

  At the mention of the Madeira nut, Bessie colored deeply, and reallyseemed struck with true shame.

  "Oh, mother," she said, "to think that I have never, all this while,cleaned out that drawer! Some of the nuts are still in it, and theother things too, just as they were that day when I lost my money. Ihave meant to clear it out so many times!"

  Her mother turned and looked at her sorrowfully.

  "Bessie," she said, "I have for years done all I could do, to makea careful, neat little girl, out of a careless, untidy one. I ambeginning now to leave you to yourself, hoping that time will helpyou to see yourself as others see you. I have noticed often that yourdrawer remained in the same condition, but I did not speak of it."

  "Oh, mother," cried Bessie, frightened, "don't leave me to myself,_don't_. I shall never learn to be good at all, that way. Oh, don'tgive me up yet."

  "My poor child," said her mother, "if you will only _try_, so that Ican _see_ you trying, my confidence in you will come back, but nototherwise. I want something more than empty promises. You forget themas soon as you make them."

  "But I will try, I will _really_ try _this_ time," said Bessie withtears in her eyes. "I'm _lazy_, mother, I'm _real_ lazy, but I am notas bad as I might be. I'll clean the drawer just as soon as we look forthe nest, _sure_."

  "Well," said her mother, half smiling at the little girl's dolefultone, "well, I will give you this one more chance. We will take thedrawer for a new starting point. Come, Nelly, let us search now for thesquirrel's hole. It must be somewhere about here, for it would nevercome up by the stairs, I think."

  They began a thorough hunt, lifting up every light article in theout-garret, where they were, and dragging the more ponderous furniturefrom their places. It was a sort of store-away place for things not inevery-day use, and therefore it took some time to examine every thing.An occasional pile of nibbled nut-shells was all that was brought tolight.

  "Well," said Nelly, laughing, as she looked under the last article, alittle broken chair belonging to Bessie. "Well, I don't see but thatMadame Squirrel has escaped us. I can't meet with a trace of her, formy p
art, beyond these nut-shells."

  "Nor I either," wofully added Bessie.

  "Yet how could it have run away from us, since we can find no hole inthe floor, and Nelly did not see it run into any of these other rooms?"asked Bessie's mother.

  "Perhaps it is hidden in the furniture itself," remarked Nelly.

  "Stop a moment," said Bessie's mother, as Nelly began to pull out thedrawers of an old bureau, "here are some crossbeams in the wall by thefire-board, that look very much as though a set of sharp teeth hadnibbled a hole in them,--yes, it is so! Well, I think we've tracked thesquirrel now! The place is such a little way from the floor, that itcould jump in and scamper off through the walls, before any one couldmolest it. Perhaps it is far away in the woods, laughing at us, at thisminute."

  The children drew near the beams in question, with strong curiosity. Itwas indeed as Bessie's mother said; there were the marks of teeth inthe wood, and just where the beams joined was a hole quite large enoughfor a squirrel to pass through.

  "It is the same one we saw in the woods, I know it is," said Nelly,"but what should bring it here?"

  "Perhaps, in time, we can tame it; that is if we have not alreadyfrightened it away. _May_ I try to tame it, mother?"

  "Yes," said her mother. "I think Bunny will make a pretty pet. We canstrew a few grains of corn, or a few nuts about its hole every day,until it learns to regard us as its friends; but a little girl thatI know must get into the good habit of putting her things in theirproper places, and shutting her table drawers _tight_, or it willcontinue to help itself to more valuable things, and make itself aplague to us. I do not doubt that Bunny has your money in its nest atthis minute. It thought, probably, that it was carrying off a good,sound nut."

  "Yes," said Bessie, "and I dare say it was it that ran off with thosein my basket, and all the others in the garden. Poor, dear Nathan! Imust tell him about it, and ask him to forget my cross words. One of mySunday-school hymns says, 'Kind words can never die.' I wonder if theunkind words live forever too. Do they, mother?"

  "I hope not," was the answer, "but many an unkind word leaves a stingin the mind of the person to whom it is said, long after the one whouttered it has entirely forgotten it. I don't believe Nathan, forinstance, will soon cease to remember that you asked him why he tookyour nuts. You acted too impulsively."

  "Too _what_, mother?" asked Bessie, curiously.

  "Too _impulsively_. That is, you did not wait to consider the matter,but spoke out just as you felt, as soon as you saw him. You mustcertainly ask him to excuse you. If you are always very gentle to himin future, perhaps your offence will be forgotten. There is no end tothe soothing effect of those 'kind words that never die!'"

  "He was cross enough with _me_ about it," said Bessie, reflectively."I think a few kind words would not hurt _him_ to say."

  "We have nothing to do with Nathan as to that," said her mother. "If hechooses to be ill-tempered, it is his own business, while it is ours tobear it from him patiently. It is only by such means that we can teachhim how wrong he is."

  "I think that is pretty hard to do," said Bessie, shaking her head,"don't you, Nelly? _I_ always want to answer right straight back."

  "And if you do," said her mother, "you will find that you invariablymake the case worse than before. A noble poet, whose works you may readwhen you are older, has said, 'Be silent and endure!' and experiencewill prove to you both, that this silence and this endurance is thetrue key to happiness. Now, run down stairs, Bessie, and bring me upthe little saw. The idea has just come to me, to saw away some of theboard at the side of these beams. That will give us a good view of whatis going on in the wall, and will not hurt its appearance much, either."

  Bessie soon reappeared with the saw, which, as it was small, hermother had no difficulty in handling. She took it from her and beganoperations at once, inserting the sharp end of it in a crevice in thewood, and moving it gradually across the grain, until the end of theboard fell on the floor, where the sawdust already lay.

  "Oh, let me see!" cried Bessie, in wild delight at this exposure of thesquirrel's haunt. And

  "Oh, let _me_ see _too_!" cried Nelly.

  But Bessie's mother said she thought she had better take a peep first,so she lowered her eyes to the aperture and looked in. It was dark,and her eyes, accustomed to the sun-light, at first could distinguishnothing. Gradually, however, she found that she could see a little wayaround the hole with great distinctness, and it was not long before asmall heap of rags, apparently, attracted her attention on one of thecorner beams.

  "What is it, mother? what do you find?" cried Bessie, as her mother putin her hand to feel what this heap could be. Something warm met thetouch of her fingers, and she drew back, slightly startled.

  On examining further, she found that this was indeed the animal's nest,and that these soft, warm objects, curled up in it so nicely, wereprobably her little young ones.

  "There!" she said, laughing, "come see, children, what I have found!Here is the squirrel's nest, and two of her little babies!"

  The girls peered eagerly through the hole at these newly discoveredtreasures.

  "The darlings!" cried Bessie, "we can surely tame these littlecreatures, mother, they are so young. It will be no trouble at all."

  "We must not take them from the nest," replied her mother. "If wecan tame them by kindness, and by gradually accustoming them to ourharmless visits, I am very willing to make pets of them."

  "Oh, how pleasant that will be," exclaimed Bessie, in an ecstasy. "Dolook, Nelly, at their pretty eyes. I don't know but that I shall bejust as well satisfied with my two little squirrels as you are withyour two lambs."

  As she spoke, she put in her hand to touch the tiny animals on thehead, and smooth them softly, but something at the side of the nestsuddenly arrested her attention, and she did not do so.

  "Oh, mother," she cried, "I do believe here is my Madeira nut, amongthis rubbish and empty hickory shells about the nest. I do believeit,--I do believe it! It _looks_ like it, I am positive of that. Itseems whole, too. I don't think it has been nibbled at all! How glad Iam!"

  "Can you reach it?" asked her mother; "if you can, do so."

  Bessie made what she called "a long arm," and in a moment more sheseized the nut and brought it into open daylight.

  "Oh, mother," she said, dancing around the garret joyfully, "it _is_ mynut! Here is a little place in the side where the squirrel has bitten,and you can see the money right through it! She found that there wasnothing good to eat in it, so she stopped just in time not to spoil itentirely. I am so glad--I am so glad!"

  THE END.

  * * * * *

  Transcriber's Notes:

  Obvious punctuation errors repaired. The varied hyphenation of"watercress" and "water-cress" was retained.

  Page 20, "lewer" changed to "lower" (the lower half which)