by Sophie May
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FIRST DAY'S WORK.
IN the pleasant breakfast-room, which was also a schoolroom, the twogirls were left by Aunt Mary, while she gave some orders on householdmatters. Everything was arranged here with order and neatness, but therewas nothing superfluous; there was a place for everything, andeverything seemed to be in its place, if we except a large quantity ofunbleached calico, which had been unrolled, and had spread itself uponthe floor.
'What is all that coarse stuff for?' inquired Mabel of her cousin. 'Yousurely don't call that your work, do you, Clara? I brought someembroidery with me, for I hate plain work. I hope aunt will not set meto do any.'
'I am quite sure she will, though,' replied Clara; 'and this very day,too; for she is going to cut out two night-shirts for the poor man weare going to see, and we shall have to make them, as well as pinaforesfor the children, and flannel petticoats for two old women who are inAunt Mary's district. Oh, such nice old dames they are, Mabel! I am sureyou will like them, dear; and they are so thankful for any littlekindness we do for them.'
'Such stupid, humdrum work!' exclaimed Mabel. 'I'm sure I shall bemiserable here. Hard lessons, coarse work, and looking after old andsick people! I wonder you are not moped to death, Clara; it's even worsethan I thought it would be.'
'Well, wait a little while,' said patient Clara; 'you have had noexperience yet. I know very well you will alter your mind before sixmonths are over.'
'Six months!' exclaimed Mabel; 'why, I should be dead in that time, ifmamma suffers me to remain here. But I shall tell her all about it, andbeg her to let me go home.'
The entrance of Aunt Mary broke off the dialogue of the cousins, andsoon the obnoxious calico was spread out, and fashioned into usefularticles of wearing apparel.
'Here is your new workbox, my dear Mabel,' said her aunt; 'you will findit stocked with all necessary things--thimble, and scissors, andneedles, and cotton--and all that I require of you is to keep it tidy.'
It was impossible for Mabel not to dismiss _some_, at least, of herfoolish prejudice against this kind friend, and the thanks she returnedfor the really handsome present were hearty and genuine; and on fittingon her thimble, and examining the bright scissors and the very prettyneedle, even her feelings respecting the coarse work on which they wereexpected to be employed appeared to undergo a wonderful change.
'I can't do plain work very quickly, aunt,' said Mabel, when that ladyhad given her a pair of sleeves to make; 'I never did much at home.'
'All right, my child; if you do your best, I promise you I shall besatisfied. I know you will improve in time,' said Aunt Mary, kindly.
There was no reading this morning, because Clara and Aunt Mary, whowere both rapid seamstresses, had agreed, if possible, to finish thenight-shirt that had been cut out, and take it with them in the evening,when they went to call at the cottage of poor Simmons, whom they had notseen since their return home, but of whom they had learned from Bridgeta pretty satisfactory account. The good woman had taken them under herespecial care while her mistress was away.
There was no lack of pleasant conversation when Aunt Mary was in theroom, and the work progressed well during the morning hours; but,unfortunately, about three o'clock in the afternoon some friends came tocall, and as it was evident to Miss Livesay that this would preventtheir visit to the cottage that evening, she bade the young people putaway their work, and try to find some amusement in the garden. Clarafelt sorry and disappointed at this postponement, though she saidnothing, but prepared to obey her aunt. With Mabel, however, this wasquite an unexpected pleasure, and so rapidly did she gather up her work,without folding it neatly together, that the needle ran into her finger,and brought the blood so quickly that two or three large spots weredeposited on the sleeves.
'Oh, aunt will be so cross when she sees what I have done!' said the toohasty Mabel. 'Must I try to wash the spots out, Clara?' she inquired.
'No, no!' replied her cousin; 'Bridget will do that for you with alittle brush. But I wonder, Mabel,' she added, 'at your thinking dearaunt would be _cross_ because you have had an accident. You seem to havesome very strange ideas in your head; you will know better soon, Ihope.'
The room was quickly cleared, and Clara, taking the soiled sleeve in herhand, went with her cousin into the kitchen, where they found the tidyservant-of-all-work already clean, and sitting comfortably with herknitting in hand, and the cat on her knee. Bridget readily undertook thetask required of her; and the young people, having obtained the food forthe poultry, ran off to distribute it.
A capital house Clara's feathered family had, with no rent nor taxes topay. It was a long shed under the tall trees at the bottom of thegarden, boarded over at the top, but with wire-work all across thefront, where a door was made to go in at, in order to clean out thefloor.
Inside, it was the picture of comfort, and of cleanliness too, forcareful Bridget took care of that. Old Netty and her chicks had a placeto themselves--a house within a house--so that the little ones could notmake an escape.
'Oh, I see there are two new-laid eggs,' said Clara. 'I am so glad; wecan take them to poor Simmons when we go to-morrow. I dare say there aretwo or three more in the house that I may have.'
'I thought you said the fowls were your own, to do what you liked with,'said Mabel. 'If I were you, I should sell the eggs, and not give themaway,' she added.
'And what should I do with the money?' inquired Clara. 'I haveeverything I want; aunt takes care of that.'
'But you might buy nice gloves and neckties with the money you would getfor the eggs,' urged Mabel. 'I don't see that you have much of that sortof thing.'
'I have all that I want in that way,' replied her cousin. 'I would tentimes rather give away the eggs than take money for them. When I firstcame to live with dear aunt, she had this place fitted up on purpose forme; and she bought the fowls, and food, and everything that was wanted,'said Clara. 'In three months' time I had a beautiful brood of chickens;and when they were grown, aunt asked me what I meant to do with mysurplus stock. I said that I really did not know; so she suggested thatI should sell the chickens, and give the money to the poor. "Sell thatye have, and give alms," said my aunt. "This, dear Clara, is ourSaviour's advice," she added, and I was only too glad and thankful tofollow her advice. So I made a purse, in which I save up myegg-and-chicken money, and we buy calico, and print, and flannel, andprovide other things,' said Clara, in great glee, for it was, indeed,one of her chief sources of pleasure to give to the poor.
'I'm sure you would not catch me doing in that way,' said Mabel. 'I seeno fun in keeping fowls only for the sake of giving to other people.'
'No _fun_, perhaps,' replied her cousin; 'but you would find realpleasure, Mabel, in being able to relieve the wants of the sick and theafflicted. Oh, I know,' she added, 'you will--you _must_ change yourmind when you go with us to some of the neighbouring cottages. I do hopewe shall not be prevented from going to-morrow.'
Whatever effect time and scenes were to have on our young friend Mabel,certainly her cousin's arguments and declarations produced none at thepresent; so we must close the chapter of the first day, and beginanother.
