Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Madame Guizot

  CHAPTER X.

  THE GARDEN--THE LITTLE AND THE GRAND FLORA.

  As Harriet had been taught always to speak kindly to servants, she wasquite a favorite with them, and her petition to the coachman that hewould drive fast, made him put the horses into such rapid motion thatthe mile and a half was soon passed, and we were landed at Flowerhillbefore Mary had half arranged her plans of amusement for the day.Notwithstanding our speed, however, William called out, as we drove up,"What made you wait so long? I have been watching for you this greatwhile."

  Mr. Dickinson spoke to the children very pleasantly, and asked verykindly after Jessie's grandmother. As he caught my eye, however, onturning away from her, he shook his head with a look which seemed tosay, "Remember, I promise nothing."

  William was so impatient to show Jessie the flower and to exhibit hisown accomplishments as a florist, that he carried the children off atonce to the garden. Mr. Dickinson looked rather anxiously after them asthey went tripping gayly along the walks, and very soon proposed that weshould follow them. I acknowledge that, confident as I had expressedmyself to be, and as I really was, of Jessie's good behavior, my greatanxiety that she should be particularly cautious, made me a littlenervous, a little fearful that she might at least let the skirt of herdress brush off a leaf, and thus give Mr. Dickinson an excuse foradhering to his determination. I was, therefore, quite ready to join thechildren, who would, I thought, be more quiet when we were near. Thefirst sight of them, however, set my fears at rest, and I glanced at Mr.Dickinson with something of triumph. There they stood ranged around thetub in which was the strange and beautiful flower they were admiring,yet not a finger was raised even to point at it; on the contrary, theywere holding each other's hands as if they feared their ownforgetfulness. They moved away as we came up, though not far, andWilliam Temple continued to repeat to Jessie all which he had learnedfrom his uncle of the nature and habits of the plant. After I hadobserved all the beauties of this pride of the garden, and exhibited asmuch admiration for them as even Mr. Dickinson could desire, he invitedme to walk with him to a distant part of the garden, where he had someother plants scarce less beautiful or less rare than this. Little FloraTemple, who, as I have before told you, was only about two years old,had held her mother's finger and run along by her side from the house,prattling all the way of the "pitty fower" which she was going to see.She now refused to go any farther, saying, "Fola tired--stay, Willy."

  Mrs. Temple looked at Mr. Dickinson doubtfully, but as if to show theconfidence which the good conduct of the children had given him, he madeno objection, saying, indeed, "William will take good care of her,"--soshe was left.

  With a lightened heart, beginning to feel as Harriet did, _almost_ surethat Mr. Graham would have the place, I went. What happened after we hadleft the children, I must tell you as I learned it from themselves. Itseems, that finding her brother too much engaged with Jessie and his newoffice of teacher to attend much to her, Flora became weary and teasedhim to take her into the house. "Poor thing," said William, "she istired standing up. If brother Willy finds a pretty place for her, willshe sit down quite still till he runs to the house for Nursey to comeand take her up?"

  The child assented. Now, unfortunately, just by the Cactus stood aflower-stand, not intended for a parlor, but large and high, making apretty ornament in a garden when covered with small plants, which werebetter sunned in this way than if placed on the earth. This flower-standwas in the shape of a half moon; the shelves looked like steps, and werequite strong enough to bear Flora's weight, or indeed William's. Theywere dry and clean, and seemed to him to offer a very nice and safe seatfor Flora, especially as she would be within sight of the house all thetime. William was only six years old, and perhaps does not deserve to beblamed very much for forgetting, in this arrangement, that as his backwould be towards Flora in going to the house, and as the other childrenwere standing behind the flower-stand, neither he nor they would be ableto see her or provide for her safety. They had paid little attention toher, and supposed, when they missed her, that William had taken her tothe house with him, while he had in reality placed her on the thirdshelf, or step, as he called it, of the flower-stand. Giving her a fewcommon flowers to amuse her, he ran on without thought of harm. Jessiewas still occupied with the strange stalk and leaves of this wonderfulplant, which she was every minute wishing her father could see--Harriet,equally intent on guarding Mr. Dickinson's treasures from the toucheven of Jessie's dress, and Mary in looking for a weed, of which WilliamTemple had declared there was not one in his uncle's garden, when theywere all startled by a scream. It was William's voice--then followed afew eager words, "Jessie, look up--Jessie--Harriet--catch her!"

  Jessie looked up, and there stood Flora Temple on the topmost height ofthe narrow flower-stand. Attracted probably by the voices, she hadclimbed up, intending, no doubt, to get down to them on the other side.William, who first saw her, was too far away to help her, and whenJessie looked at her, she had already become frightened and was leaningforwards with her arms outstretched. Harriet ran around the stand to goup to her--Jessie saw it was too late for this--in one instant she wasstanding on the tub--the Cactus tub--the next, Flora was in her arms,the child was safe, and the flower, the splendid flower, the pride ofMr. Dickinson's garden, and admiration of his guests, lay on the ground.Falling from such a height, Flora's weight had been too much for Jessie.She had bent under it, and pressing against the stake supporting theflower, it had broken, and before Jessie could raise herself, the flowerwas at her feet. For a time it was unseen, for all were occupied withFlora, who screamed as if she had really met the fall she had sonarrowly escaped. Her nurse took her from Jessie, and moved towards thehouse with her, followed by all the children, without any one of themhaving even glanced at the Cactus. After going a short distance,however, the girls, finding they could do nothing to pacify her,returned to look for Mary's gloves and handkerchief, which she had laiddown and quite forgotten in her fright about Flora. As they came nearthe flower, Harriet was the first to perceive the mischief done, and toexclaim, "Oh, Jessie, see what you have done! What will Mr. Dickinsonsay?"

  Jessie was a timid child, and Mr. Dickinson seemed to her the most awfulperson in the world. Distressed and frightened, she stood for a minutewith her hands clasped, looking down at the prostrate flower withoutspeaking a word, then suddenly looking up, said, "Harriet, I am verysorry, but I could not help it, and I must just go to Mr. Dickinson andtell him I did it."

  "Ah, Jessie! you do not know all," said Harriet, "or it would not seemso easy to tell him that."

  "It does not seem easy, Harriet," Jessie began--but Mary interruptedher, exclaiming warmly, "Why, Harriet! I do believe you think Jessieought to have let Flora fall rather than have broken that one singleflower."

  "No, Mary, I do not think so, but I wish anybody else had done it ratherthan Jessie."

  "Why, Harriet?" said Jessie, "why would you rather anybody else had doneit?"

  "Because, Jessie, I would rather Mr. Dickinson should be angry to-daywith anybody than with you."

  "But why?" persisted Jessie.

  Harriet hesitated--then said, "I may as well tell you, Jessie; for theonly reason Aunt Kitty did not wish me to, was that you would be toosure, and there's no danger of that now."

  "Too sure of what?"

  "Why, that he would have your father for his gardener,"--and thenHarriet told of all her hopes and fears, and of my efforts, and of thebeautiful house and garden, and six hundred dollars a-year which Mr.Dickinson gave his gardener,--"And then you know, Jessie, you would notbe too far to come every day to school to Miss Bennett; and see, Jessie,there's the church," pointing to the steeple, "so near, and you knowyour grandmother wants to live near the church, and this was what mademe want you to come so very much that Mr. Dickinson might see howcareful you were, and then I was almost sure he would let your fatherhave the place; but now--" and she looked down sorrowfully at theprostrate flower.

  Jessie, who had listened wi
th wondering and eager ears, looked down tooand said nothing.

  After a short pause, Mary Mackay exclaimed, "They are coming,--I hearMr. Dickinson--but do not look so pale and so frightened, Jessie. I willtell you what I will do--I am not afraid of Mr. Dickinson--he cannot doany thing to hurt me. Now, Jessie, do not begin to say no--I am notgoing to tell a story--I am just going to _let him think_ it was I whobroke the flower."

  "No, no, Mary," said Jessie--but before she had finished speaking, Maryhad picked up the broken branch, and stood in the path before theastonished Mr. Dickinson and myself. Mrs. Temple had excused herself andreturned to the house by another way some time before. There stood Marywith the branch in her hand--the branch, with its flower broken andsoiled.

  "Mr. Dickinson," her voice faltered, and she evidently began to growfrightened, but she continued, "I am very sorry, sir, your flower hasgot broke."

  Mr. Dickinson turned first red and then pale. He said not a word toMary, but turned to me with a look which I well understood--it said asplainly as words could have done, "You see how right I was aboutchildren." This passed in an instant, for you know looks do not takelong, and before I could say a word to him--before I could even ask Maryhow it happened, Jessie stood beside her. She was very pale. Laying herhand on the branch which Mary held, she said very distinctly, though hervoice was low, "She did not break it, sir--it was I."

  We were all silent for a moment, and then Mr. Dickinson spoke, "It wasyou?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then, my dear," he continued, speaking very slowly, "I am very muchobliged to you, for you have saved me probably from a great many suchtrials. Had you been as careful and well-behaved as this lady thoughtyou, I should have been hardly able to refuse her request that I wouldtake your father as my gardener, at least on trial for one year, and atthe end of that time, I should, it seems, have had little of a garden tokeep."

  Mr. Dickinson walked on without another word or even look at the littleculprits. And I walked on too. You will think me very cruel, and so Ithought myself but a minute after, as I heard Jessie's low,half-smothered sobs, and the efforts of Harriet and Mary to console her;but I was really vexed with Jessie, for you must remember I did not knowhow she had been so unfortunate as to break the plant,--the children hadbeen too much frightened even to think of telling us that. Besides, Iwas on my way to see a new dairy of Mr. Dickinson's, and as I had askedto see it, he would have thought my leaving him unpardonably impolite. Ifear, as it was, I must have seemed very inattentive, for I often forgotto answer him while listening to poor Jessie's sobs, or looking back tothe garden walk where she still stood with her head resting on Harriet'sshoulder, while Mary held one of her hands and talked with even morethan her usual earnestness. What they said I must repeat to you as Iheard it from themselves, since it is necessary you should know it inorder to understand what afterwards happened.

  "I would not cry, Jessie," said Mary, "I would be glad my father was notto live with such a cross, bad man."

  "Oh, Mary! you do not know how badly father feels about going away. Hethinks it will kill grandmother only to hear about it--and he might havecome here if it had not been for me--I am so sorry I came. What shall Ido, Harriet?--What shall I do?"

  "Let us all go and beg Mr. Dickinson," said Mary; "I am sure if we toldhim that Jessie had done it all to keep little Flora Temple from hurtingherself, he could not be so cross."

  "Well," said Harriet, "let us try--we can do no harm--for he cannot bemore angry than he is."

  Poor Jessie was willing to try any thing, though she had little hope.When she came near us, however, her heart failed her and she drew back.Mary, who was always ready to be speaker, proposed that Jessie andHarriet should stay where they were, while she went forward and told thestory. This was agreed to, and we had scarcely entered the dairy whenMary followed us in. Breathing very hard and quick, and looking quiteflushed and agitated, she began, "Mr. Dickinson--Aunt Kitty--Aunt Kitty,I am come to tell Mr. Dickinson how Jessie broke the flower."

  "There is no occasion, my dear," said Mr. Dickinson, looking quitefretted and angry; "I do not care to know how she broke it, it is quiteenough for me to know that it is broken."

  "But I want to tell you, sir," persisted Mary, "because I am sure if youknew, you would not be angry with her."

  "Angry with her!--I am not at all angry with her. I do not doubt thatshe is a very good girl, and that I should like her very much, but notin my garden, Miss Mary--not in my garden."

  I saw that Mr. Dickinson felt worried, and that Jessie's cause was notgaining any thing from Mary's application, so taking her hand, I said,"Do not tease Mr. Dickinson, my dear,--tell Jessie Mr. Dickinson says heis not angry with her, and that Aunt Kitty loves her better than everfor having told the truth so readily and firmly."

  Mary looked very much dissatisfied, but as Mr. Dickinson turned his backto her and talked to me as if she had not been there, it was of no useto stay, and she soon left us.

  "Jessie," said Mary, when she got back to her, "Mr. Dickinson is a crossbad man, and I would not mind him at all. He said he was not angry withyou, but he was just as angry as he could be, for he would not hear aword I had to say about you--but Aunt Kitty says you must not cry, andthat she loves you better than ever for telling the truth."

  Pleased as Jessie was with my praise, it could not comfort her for herfather's loss, or give her courage to meet the dreaded Mr. Dickinson.

  "Harriet," said she, "I do want to go home."

  "Well, Jessie, you shall go--I will ask Aunt Kitty to send you there inthe carriage, and then let it come back for us."

  "No, no, Harriet--then they will all talk to me and want me to stay.It's only a little way, and I walk every week to the church--why cannotI just slip through that garden gate and get home without anybody'sknowing it? I shall feel so much better when I have told father andgrandmother all about it."

  "I dare say you will," said Harriet, "for when any thing troubles me Iwant to tell Aunt Kitty directly, and your grandmother is just the sameto you. I would tell her all, Jessie, for I am sure she would a greatdeal rather go away anywhere than to have had you tell a story."

  "That I am sure of too," said Jessie.

  "Well," said Mary, coloring up, "I did not mean to tell a story, but Ido not see what harm it would have been to let Mr. Dickinson think itwas I that broke his plant, just from seeing the branch in my hand."

  "Oh, Mary!" said Jessie, "I know you would not tell a story, and it wasvery kind in you to want to take the blame from me,--but indeed, Mary,it would not have been right, I'm sure it would not; and badly as I dofeel now, I should have felt a great deal worse if I had not told Mr.Dickinson all the truth,--but good-by, girls," for they had walked onwhile talking, and both Harriet and Mary had gone with her beyond thegate, "I'll go and tell father, and beg him to let me tell grandmotherall about it. He said last night he wished she knew, only he could notbear to tell her."

  Jessie's tears had ceased as soon as she determined to go home and tellher troubles there, and Harriet and Mary parted from her with smiles,promising to beg me to go back early, and to let them go directly to herhouse.