Tell Me a Story

by Mrs. Molesworth

sharp."

  What voice was that? who could it be, shouting so loudly, and waking herup in the middle of the night? Judy for a moment felt very indignant,but she was extremely sleepy, and determined to think she was dreaming;so she turned round, and was just dozing off, when again she heard thecry:

  "Betsy, Betsy, wake up with thee. Whatever's come to the child thismorning?"

  The voice seemed to come nearer and nearer, and at last a thump on thewall, close to Judy's head, it seemed to her, fairly startled her awake.

  "Up with thee, child," sounded close to her ear. "Baby's been thatcross all night I've had scarce a wink o' sleep. Thee mustn't liesnoring there."

  Suddenly all returned to Judy's memory. She was not herself; she wasBetsy.

  "I'm coming," she called out, hardly knowing what she was saying; andthen the person on the other side of the wall seemed to be satisfied,for Judy now heard her walking about, clattering fire-irons and pots andpans, evidently employed in tidying the kitchen.

  It was still what Judy thought quite dark. She had some idea of callingfor a light, but whom to call to she did not know. So, feeling verystrange and rather frightened, she got timidly out of bed, and by thelittle light that came in at the small square window, began to lookabout her. What a queer little place it was! Not a room really, only asort of "lean-to" at one side of the kitchen, barely large enough forthe narrow, rickety little bedstead, and one old chair that stood besideit, answering several purposes besides its proper one, for on it wasplaced a cracked basin and jug, and a tiny bit of looking-glass, withouta frame, fastened by a piece of string to the only remaining bar.Betsy's clothes lay in the bed, which was but poorly provided withproper blankets--the sheets were clean--everything in the place was asclean as poverty _can_ be, and indeed Betsy was, and considered herselfto be, a very fortunate little girl for having a "room" of her own atall; but to Judy, Judy who had had no training like Betsy's, Judy whofound every crumple in a rose leaf "too bad," Judy who knew as little ofother people's lives and other people's troubles as the man in themoon,--you can fancy, my dears, how the room of which little Betsy wasso proud looked to _Judy_! But she had a spirit of her own, readythough she was to grumble. With a little shiver, she began to try todress herself in the well-mended clothes, so different from her owndaintily-trimmed little garments--for _washing_ she felt to be out ofthe question; it was really _too_ cold, and besides there were no soap,or sponges, or towels to be seen.

  "I don't care," she said to herself stoutly, as she wriggled first intoone garment and then into another. "I don't care. Any way I shall haveno lessons to learn, and I shall not be bothered about keeping my frockclean. But I do wish the fairy had left me my own hair," she went onregretfully, examining the thick dark locks that hung round her face,and kept tumbling into her eyes, "my hair is _much_ nicer. I don'tbelieve Betsy ever has hers properly brushed, it _is_ so tuggy. Andwhat brown hands I've got, and such crooked nails. I wonder if Betsy'smother will cut them for me; I wonder if--"

  She was interrupted by another summons.

  "Betsy, girl, what _are_ you after this morning? I be getting downrightcross with you, child. There's father'll be back for breakfastdirectly, and you not helped me by a hand's turn this blessed morning."Judy started. She only stopped to fasten the last button of her littledark cotton frock, and calling out, "I'm coming," opened the rough doorof the little bed-room, and found herself in the kitchen. There satBetsy's mother, with the baby on her knee, and the baby but one tumblingabout at her feet, while she vainly tried to fasten the frock of anotherlittle fellow of three, who sturdily refused to stand still.

  "You must finish dressing Jock," she said, on catching sight of Judy;"Jock's a naughty boy, won't stand still for mammy to dress him; naughtyJock," she continued, giving him a little shake as she got up, whichsent him howling across the room to Judy. "It's too bad of you, Betsy,to be so lazy this morning, and me so tired with no sleep, and thelittle ones all crying; if I tell father he'll be for giving it thee,lass, to make thee stir about a bit quicker."

  "He'll give me _what_?" said Judy, perplexed. "I don't understand."

  "Hold thy tongue; I'll have none of that answering back, child," saidBetsy's mother, tired and out of patience, poor woman, though you mustnot think she was either harsh or unkind, for she was a very kind, goodmother.

  "Jock, let me dress you," said Judy, turning to the little boy, with avague idea that it would be rather amusing to act nurse to him. Jockcame towards her willingly enough, but Judy found the business less easythan she had expected. There was a button missing on his littlepetticoat, which she did not find out in time to prevent her fasteningit all crooked; and when she tried to undo it again, Jock's patience wasexhausted, and he went careering round the kitchen, Judy after him, tillthe mother in despair caught hold of him, and completed the task.

  "Your fingers seem to be all thumbs this morning," she said testily."You've not swep' up a bit, nor made th' fire, nor nothing. Go andfetch water now to fill th' kettle, or father'll be in afore it's on theboil."

  Judy turned to the fireplace, and, with some difficulty, managed to lugthe heavy old kettle as far as the front door. Just outside stood thepump, but try as she might she could not get the water to flow. She wasready to cry with vexation, pumping had always seemed such nice easywork; she had often watched the children of these very cottages fillingtheir kettles and jugs, and had envied them the fun; but now when shehad it to do she found it very different--_very_ poor fun, if indeed funat all! At last she got the water to begin to come, a poor miserablelittle trickle; at this rate the kettle would _never_ be filled, and hertears were preparing to descend, when a rough hearty voice made herjump. It was Betsy's father.

  "Pump's stiff this morning, is it, my lass?" he called out as he came upthe path. "Let's have a hand at it;" and with his vigorous pull thewater quickly appeared. He lifted the kettle into the kitchen, greatlyto Judy's relief; but Betsy's mother took a different view of thematter.

  "I don't know what's come to Betsy this morning," she said. "Lazy's noword for her. The porridge is ready, but there'll be no time to makethee a cup of coffee, father. She's been close upon a quarter of anhour filling the kettle, and baby's so cross this morning I can't puther down."

  "I must make my breakfast of porridge then," said the father; "butBetsy, girl, it's new for thee to be lazy, my lass."

  Judy felt humbled and mortified, but she said nothing. Somehow she feltas if she could not defend herself, though she knew she had honestlydone her best. The words "too bad" rose to her lips, but she did notutter them. She began to wonder how little Betsy managed to get throughher daily tasks, easy as she had imagined them to be.

  The porridge was not much to her taste, but she tried to eat it.Perhaps it was not so much the porridge itself, for it was good of itskind, which took away her appetite, as the want of the many littlethings to which she was so accustomed that their absence made her forthe first time think of them at all. The nice white tablecloth andsilver spoons on the nursery table, the neat, pretty room, and freshlydressed little brothers and sisters--all were very different from therough board, and the pewter spoons, and Betsy's father and big brothershurriedly devouring the great bowls of porridge, while the three littleones cried or quarrelled incessantly. "After all," thought Judy,"perhaps it is a good thing to have _rather_ a strict nurse, even if sheis very fussy about being neat and all that."

  But yet she felt very sorry for Betsy's mother, when she looked at herthin, careworn face, and noticed how patient she was with the babies,and how cheerfully she answered all "father's" remarks. And there beganto dawn in the little girl's mind a faint idea that perhaps there weretroubles and difficulties in the world such as she had never dreamt of,that there are a good many "too bads" in other people's lots as well asin Miss Judy's.

  Breakfast over, her troubles began again. It was washing-day, and justas she was looking forward to a ramble in the fields in gloriousindependence of nurse's warn
ings about spoiling her frock, her dreamswere put an end to by Betsy's mother's summoning her to take her placeat the tub. And oh, my dears, _real_ washing is very different workfrom the dolls' laundressing--standing round a wash-hand basin placed ona nursery chair, and wasting ever so much beautiful honey-soap in niceclean hot water, and then when the little fat hands are all "crumply"and puffy "like real washerwomen's," rinsing out the miniature garmentsin still nicer clean cold