CHAPTER II.
"MELINDY."
Mrs. Brooks fulfilled her promise, and so faithfully did she workin the good cause, that a dozen little pupils were engaged for MissMilly's school before preparations were fairly made to open it. Thesedid not take long, however, as Miss Felix, the teacher, who was goingaway, sent to Mrs. Harrow's house two long forms of desks and benches,with her compliments and best wishes to Milly for her future success.
Milly fairly began to dance around the room, in the new joy of herheart, on receiving this, to her, valuable present.
"Everybody," she said, "must not be so kind to us, or I shall have asickness brought on by too much happiness."
Poor Milly! she had so long had a "sorrow-sickness," that the presentgood fortune was almost too much to endure.
For a week she went about cleaning, and sweeping, and dusting, andmaking ready generally, for the great event, the opening of her school.Singing as gayly as a lark, she moved furniture up-stairs and down,and debated over and over again upon the best arrangement for effect.The front room was to be especially devoted to the use of her class.The carpet was removed, and thoughtful Miss Felix's desks and benchesplaced in it, along the walls. Mrs. Brooks sent an old white muslindress to be made into window-curtains, and Martin spent a whole day informing a little platform out of boards, on which, when covered withgreen baize, the teacher's table and chair were to rest.
Even Elinor's sick-chamber assumed a different aspect. One day,when Mr. Brooks was in the village on business, he stepped into apaper-hanger's, and chose a cheap, but pretty paper for the lime-washedwall. It was very cheerful-looking, being formed of alternate stripesof white and rose-color; "for," said the farmer, when he reached home,"I warrant Miss Elinor grows tired of seeing the same cracks in theplaster, year in and year out. She must have something new and gay,like this, that will help to keep her spirits up!"
Mrs. Harrow and the farmer's wife pasted this paper on the wallsthemselves, with a little assistance from Nelly, who stood ready tolift benches, hand the scissors back and forth, and give any otherslight aid of which she was capable.
The house was only one-story high, with a garret, so Elinor's roomhad a slanting roof and a dormer window. Mrs. Brooks said it would bea great improvement, if the striped paper were pasted on the ceilingtoo, and joined in the peak with a wood-colored border resembling aheavy cord or rope. This made the place look, when it was done, likea pink canvas tent. The change was wonderful. An imitation of a pairof tassels of the same color and style as the rope border, which thepaper-hanger, hearing of the design, sent to the house as a present toMiss Elinor, when pasted carefully at each end of the peak, against thewall, made the illusion perfect.
Elinor said she lived in the Tent of Kindness.
The neighbors who came in to inspect all these preparations, saidElinor's was the very prettiest dormer-room they had ever seen. Therewas enough left of the old dress to curtain the single window, whichbeing done, everything was at last pronounced to be in a state ofreadiness.
And now we must go back to Nelly, who, I suppose, some of my readersremember, is the adopted daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. Nelly hadknown much sorrow in her short life, as will be seen on referenceto the little story called "NELLY AND HER FRIENDS." She hadnever experienced what it was to be loved by father and mother tillnow; and when the farmer and his wife began to teach her to call themby those sacred titles, she felt herself a very happy little girl. Shewas delighted at the prospect of attending school. She had never beento one, and, therefore, perhaps, the novelty of the thing was half theattraction.
When the important day arrived, and the child found herself seated inthe class-room with twelve or fourteen other little folks, she wasfilled with awe and dismay, so much so, that she scarcely dared turnaround to take a good look at her next neighbor, a girl of twelve, inthe shy dread that she might be caught in the act, which circumstancewould, doubtless, have occasioned her much confusion.
Miss Harrow did not give her pupils any lessons to learn this firstmorning. She said, as no one had books, it should be a day of pleasureand not of work, and on the morrow they would begin to study in earnest.
So, during the whole morning, the children drew funny little pictureson slips of paper, which were handed them for the purpose of amusingthem; and in the afternoon, the teacher made them pull their benchesclose to the fire, in cosy rows, while she told them stories.
As, with the deepest interest, Nelly gravely listened, she came to theconclusion that this was just the best school of which she had everheard, everything was _so_ pleasant.
There was a little dark-haired boy in a blue jacket, who sat near, andwho whittled her pencil, oh _so_ sharp, every time she blunted it! Shetold Comfort, in confidence, when she went home, that this little boy'spictures were quite as good as any Martin could make. He drew shipsunder full sail, oh, beautiful! and as for those men, squaring offto fight, up in the corner of the paper, they made you think at onceof Uz and Buz the two roosters, that quarrelled every morning in thebarnyard, about which should have the most corn.
In a week or two, however, Nelly's rapture abated somewhat; and one dayshe came home with her books in her hands, and threw herself on one ofthe chairs in the kitchen, crying heartily.
"Heyday," cried Comfort, looking up from the fire, over which she wasbroiling a fish. "Heyday, what ar's the matter now?"
"O Comfort," cried Nelly, "she struck me, she struck me, before themall!"
"What!" cried Comfort, standing erect with surprise. "Miss Nelly's beenfor whippin' a'ready? Why, Nelly, shame, shame! Dis yer conduct isoncommon bad of yer."
"It wasn't Miss Harrow, at all," said Nelly, reddening; "it was thathorrid, old thing, Melindy."
"Oh, Melindy," echoed Comfort, in a tone of relief.
"Yes," continued Nelly, "she tries to get me to laugh in school, everyday. She makes eyes at me, big, round ones, _so_, Comfort."
Comfort chuckled.
"I don't wonder yer laugh, if she does that way, chile."
"But that isn't all," added Nelly indignantly. "She chews paper-balls,and sends them over the room, right at the tip of my nose. Sometimesthey stick there a second or so, till I can put up my hand; and thenthe scholars giggle-like. Oh, you've no idea, Comfort, what an awfulgirl Melindy is. She punches me, too."
"Punches, Nelly?"
"Yes, and to-day, when school was out, she gave me _such_ awhack,--right in my ribs; shall I show you how, Comfort?"
"No, thank yer," answered the old woman, laughing. She had a cause forbeing good-humored that day. "But why whack such a little critter asyou be, Nell?"
"Oh," said Nelly, hesitating, "_she_ knows."
Something in her manner made Comfort suspicious. She sat down andcalled Nelly to her. Taking hold of both her hands, she looked her fullin the eyes.
"Speak the truff," she said; "didn't yer whack Melindy _fust_?"
"Yes," said Nell, with a curious mixture of honesty and triumph, "Idid, Comfort; I gave her a _good_ one, _I tell you_! I didn't stop tothink about what I was doin' till I felt her whackin' o' _me_ backagain."
"Then she sarved yer right," said the old colored woman, going back toher fish, "and I hope she'll treat yer so every time yer begin theaggrawation."
"But she snowballed _me_ first, and called out that I was nobody'schild, and was taken out of the streets, and such like. I couldn'tstand _that_, anyhow. I _had_ to whack her, Comfort."
"No you hadn't," said Comfort, sternly, and at the same timegesticulating earnestly with the fish-fork. "It wasn't your part to doany punishin', whatsomever. Leastways, no punishment but one."
"And what's that?" demanded Nelly, making large A's and O's in thesteam that had settled on the windows. Here Martin suddenly put down abig newspaper he had been reading in a corner, and which had hidden himentirely from view.
"Have you so soon forgotten your old rule of good for evil, Nell?" heasked. "Don't you know that is what Comfort means?"
Comfort nod
ded at him approvingly.
"But Melindy is ugly, _powerful_ ugly, Martin," said Nell, coloring,"and anyway she _will_ knock all us little girls. It's born in her. Ithink she must have been meant for an Indian, that pulls the hair offyour head, like mother told us about. Doing good to Melindy is just ofno account at all."
"Did you ever try it?" asked Martin.
"Well, no-o. You see I could tell it was of no use. And Miss Harrow,she stands Melindy on a chair with a paper cap on her head, every day,at dinner-time."
"Poor girl," said Martin, "I am sorry for her."
"I'm not," said Nell, promptly, "it keeps her from mischief, you know."
Martin was silent.
Comfort began to sing a tune over her fish, interrupting herself attimes with a low, quaint laugh, as though particularly well pleasedwith some thought.
"What's the matter, Comfort?" asked Nelly.
"Oh, nuthin'," was the answer; "I guess I'm not very miserable to-day,that's all;" and off she went in a chuckle again.
"Nelly," said Martin, after another grave pause, "you used to be abetter girl than you are now. Last summer, about the time Marm Lizydied, you tried ever so hard to be good, and you improved very muchindeed."
"I know it," said Nell, a little sadly, "and I would be good now, ifit wasn't for Melindy Porter. Ever since I've been to school I've felthard and wicked. She torments and worries me so, that I think sometimesthere's no use in tryin' to be good at all. I do and say wrong things,just when I don't mean to, all along o' Melindy."
"If you and Melindy were friends, you wouldn't feel so, would you?"
"I s'pose not, but who wants to be friends with anybody like _that_?"was the ready retort.
"Still, you would rather be friends than enemies, Nell, wouldn't you?You would prefer that this little girl"--
"Big one, ever so big," interrupted Nelly, quickly.
"You would prefer that this big girl, then, should bear you no malice,even if you didn't like her, and she didn't like you. Isn't it so?"
"Well, yes. I would like to have her stop pinchin' and pullin' thehairs of all o' us little ones. That's what I'd like, Martin."
"That's easy done, Nelly," said Martin in a confident tone.
"Easy, Martin? How easy?"
"_Be kind to her._ Show her that you bear her no ill feeling."
"But I _do bear her ill feeling_, Martin! What's the good of fibbingabout it to her? I can't go to her and say, 'Melindy, I like you everso much,' when all the time I despise her like poison, can I? I am surethat wouldn't be right."
"No," broke in Comfort, "that ar wouldn't be right, Martin, forsartain."
Martin looked a little puzzled.
"But, Comfort," he said at length, "I don't want her to speakpleasantly to Melindy till she _feels_ pleasantly. _That's_ the thing.I wouldn't have Nell _act_ an untruth, a bit more than I'd have hertell one. But I _do_ want her to try to _feel_ like givin' Melindy alittle good for her evil."
Martin said this with such a pleading, earnest look, smiling coaxinglyon Nelly as he spoke, that, for the moment, the heart of the littlegirl was softened.
"Well, Martin," she said, "you are _always_ preachin' ar'n't you? Butit's nice preachin' and I don't hate it a bit. Some day, when I getreal, _awful_ good, you'll leave off, won't you? I'll think aboutMelindy, and may-be I can screw my courage up to not mind bein' crackedat by her."
"Pray for them that uses yer spitefully," said Comfort with solemnity.
Nelly seemed struck by this.
"What, pray for Melindy?" she asked meditatingly.
"Chil'en," said the old woman, "don't never forget that ar mightysayin'. Yer may be kind and such like to yer enemys, but if yer don'ttake time to _pray_ for his poor ole soul's salvation, you might aswell not do nuthin'. That's the truff, the Gospil truff."
"Well," said Nell with a deep sigh, "I'll pray for Melindy then, andfor that bad, little Johnny Williams, too, to-night when I go to bed;but I shall have, oh, Comfort, _such_ hard work to _mean_ it, _here_!"and her hands were pressed for an instant over her breast.
The next morning, just as Nelly was starting for school, Martin drewher, mysteriously, aside.
"Which hand will you have, Nell?" he asked, holding both behind him.
"This one," she said, eagerly, touching the right hand, in which shehad caught a side glimpse of something glittering like burnished gold.
Martin smilingly extended towards her a small, oval box, covered with abeautiful golden paper.
"How very, very lovely," cried Nell, opening it.
"It is yours," said Martin, "but only yours to give away. I want you todo something with it."
"Can't I keep it? Who must I give it to?"
"Melindy!"
"Oh, Martin, I can't, I just can't,--there!"
"Then you don't wish to make her good, Nell! You want her to be crueland wicked and hard as long as she lives!"
"Oh no, no, I don't wish that _now_. I _prayed_ for her last night."The last sentence was added in a very low tone.
"You refuse then?"
She looked at him, sighed, and turned away.
Martin put his box in his pocket, and walked off in the direction ofthe barn.
At dinner-time, Nelly came home quite radiant. Lessons had gonesmoothly. Miss Harrow had praised her for industry at her books,"and, would you believe it, Martin," she added in an accent of highsatisfaction, "Melinda didn't make but two faces at me all the wholemorning! Wasn't that nice? They were pretty bad ones, though,--badenough to last! She screwed her nose all up, this way! Well, if you'llgive me the box now, I'll take it to her this afternoon. I don't feelhard against Melindy at all, now."
Martin brought it to her after dinner, with great alacrity; and Nellwalked very slowly to school with it in her hands, opening and shuttingthe lid a dozen times along the road, and eyeing it in an admiring,fascinated way, as though she would have no objection in the world toretain possession of it herself.
It was a hard effort to offer it to Melinda. So pretty a box she hadnever seen before.
"I mean to ask Martin," she thought, "if he cannot find me another justlike it."
Near the door of Mrs. Harrow's little house, Nelly encountered hertormentor, quite unexpectedly. She was standing outside, talking in aloud, boisterous way to two or three of the other children. Melinda wasa tall, rather good-looking girl, of about fourteen years of age. Shewas attired in a great deal of gaudy finery, but was far from beingneat or clean in appearance. At the present time, a large, freshly-tornhole in her dress, showed that in the interval between schools, she hadbeen exercising her warlike propensities, and had come off, whethervictor or not, a little the worse for wear. Her quilted red silk hoodwas now cocked fiercely over her eyes, in a very prophetic way. Nellyknew from that, as soon as she saw her, that she was in a bad frame ofmind.
Not daring to speak to her then, Nelly was quietly proceeding towardsthe door of the school, when with one or two tremendous strides,Melinda met her face to face.
"How did you like the big thumping I gave you yesterday?" she asked,with a grim smile.
Nelly walked on very fast, trying to keep from saying anything at all,in the fear that her indignation might express itself too plainly.
"Why don't you speak up?" cried Melinda.
Still Nelly went on in silence. Melinda walked mockingly side by sidewith her, burlesquing her walk and serious face. At last, irritatedbeyond control, Melinda put out suddenly one of her feet, anddeliberately tripped up her little schoolmate, who, before she couldeven cry out, found herself lying flat on her nose, on the snow.
The attack was made so abruptly, that Nelly had no time to see whatwas coming. Confused, stunned, angry, and hurt, she raised herselfslowly to her knees and looked around her. There was at first, a dull,bruised feeling, about her head, but this passed away. Something inthe deadly whiteness of her face made Melinda look a little alarmed,as she stood leaning against the wall, ready to continue the battle,if occasion required any efforts
of the kind; but knowing well, in thedepths of her cowardly heart, that, as the largest and strongest childat school, her victims could not, personally, revenge themselves uponher, to any very great extent. Looking her companion in the eyes, likea hunter keeping a wild animal at bay, Nelly staggered to her feet.She had meant to be so good that day! And this was the encouragementshe received! Truly, the influence of Melinda on Nelly's characterwas most pernicious. All the evil in her nature seemed aroused by theassociation. Tears, not resulting from physical pain, but from thegreat effort she still made to control her temper, rose to her eyes,as she saw a sneering smile on Melinda's countenance. Till now shehad striven to bear Martin's advice in mind; but as this sneeringsmile broke into an ill-natured laugh, Nelly's self-control gave way.Her face burned. She tossed the little golden gift, with disdainfulroughness, at her persecutor's feet, and said, in a gruff, and by nomeans conciliating voice,--
"There's a box for you, Melindy. And Martin says I mustn't hate you anymore. But I do, worse than ever! There!"
Melinda gave a contemptuous snort. She walked up to the little giltbox, set her coarse, pegged shoe upon it, and quietly ground it topieces. Then, without another word, she pushed open the school-roomdoor, entered, and banged it to again, in poor Nelly's red and angryface. The child leaned against the house and cried quietly, but almostdespairingly.
"I wanted to be good," she sobbed; "I wanted to be good so much, butshe will not let me!"
Nelly's First Schooldays Page 2
