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CHAPTER VII.
HOUSE-KEEPING

One of the greatest pleasures which Mary Bell enjoyed, in her visits at Mary Erskine's at this period, was to assist in the house-keeping. She was particularly pleased with being allowed to help in getting breakfast or tea, and in setting the table.

She rose accordingly very early on the morning after her arrival there from the woods, as described in the last chapter, and put on the working-dress which Mary Erskine had made for her, and which was always kept at the farm. This was not the working-dress which was described in a preceding chapter as the one which Mary Bell used to play in, when out among the stumps. Her playing among the stumps was two or three years before the period which we are now describing. During those two or three years, Mary Bell had wholly outgrown her first working-dress, and her mind had become improved and enlarged, and her tastes matured more rapidly even than her body had grown.

She now no longer took any pleasure in dabbling in the brook, or planting potatoes in the sand,—or in heating sham ovens in stumps and hollow trees. She had begun to like realities. To bake a real cake for breakfast or tea, to set a real table with real cups and saucers, for a real and useful purpose, or to assist Mary Erskine in the care of the children, or in making the morning arrangements in the room, gave her more pleasure than any species of child's play could possibly do. When she went out now, she liked to be dressed neatly, and take pleasant walks, to see the views or to gather flowers. In a word, though she was still in fact a child, she began to have in some degree the tastes and feelings of a woman.

"What are you going to have for breakfast?" said Mary Bell to Mary Erskine, while they were getting up.

"What should you like?" asked Mary Erskine in reply.

"Why I should like some roast potatoes, and a spider cake," said Mary Bell.

The spider cake received its name from being baked before the fire in a flat, iron vessel, called a spider. The spider was so called probably, because, like the animal of that name, it had several legs and a great round body. The iron spider, however, unlike its living namesake, had a long straight tail, which, extending out behind, served for a handle.

The spider cake being very tender and nice, and coming as it usually did, hot upon the table, made a most excellent breakfast,—though this was not the principal reason which led Mary Bell to ask for it. She liked to make the spider cake; for Mary Erskine, after mixing and preparing the material, used to allow Mary Bell to roll it out to its proper form, and put it into the spider. Then more than all the rest, Mary Bell liked to bake a spider cake. She used to take great pleasure in carrying the cake in her two hands to the fire-place, and laying it carefully in its place in the spider, and then setting it up before the fire to bake, lifting the spider by the end of the tail. She also took great satisfaction afterward in watching it, as the surface which was presented toward the fire became browned by the heat. When it was sufficiently baked upon one side it had to be turned, and then set up before the fire again, to be baked on the other side; and every part of the long operation was always watched by Mary Bell with great interest and pleasure.

Mary Erskine consented to Mary Bell's proposal in respect to breakfast, and for an hour Mary Bell was diligently employed in making the preparations.

She put the potatoes in the bed which Mary Erskine opened for them in the ashes. She rolled out the spider cake, and put it into the spider; she spread the cloth upon the table, and took down the plates, and the cups and saucers from the cupboard, and set them in order on the table. She went down into the little cellar to bring up the butter. She skimmed a pan of milk to get the cream, she measured out the tea; and at last, when all else was ready, she took a pitcher and went down to the spring to bring up a pitcher of cool water. In all these operations Bella accompanied her, always eager to help, and Mary Bell, knowing that it gave Bella great pleasure to have something to do, called upon her, continually, for her aid, and allowed her to do every thing that it was safe to entrust to her. Thus they went on very happily together.

At length, when the breakfast was ready they all sat down around the table to eat it, except the baby. He remained in the trundle-bed, playing with his play-things. His play-things consisted of three or four smooth pebble stones of different colors, each being of about the size of an egg, which his mother had chosen for him out of the brook, and also of a short piece of bright iron chain. The chain was originally a part of a harness, but the harness had become worn out, and Albert had brought in the chain and given it to the baby. The baby liked these play-things very much indeed,—both the pebbles and the chain. When he was well, and neither hungry nor sleepy, he was never tired of playing with them,—trying to bite them, and jingling them together.

"Now," said Mary Erskine to the children, as they were sitting at the table, at the close of the breakfast, and after Thomas had gone away, "you may go out and play for an hour while I finish my morning work, and put the baby to sleep, and then I want you to come in and have a school."

"Who shall be the teacher?" said Mary Bell.

"You shall be one," said Mary Erskine.

"Are you going to have two teachers?" asked Mary Bell. "If you do, then we can't have any scholars;—for the baby is not old enough to go to school."

"I know it," said Mary Erskine, "but we can have three scholars without him."

"Who shall they be?" asked Mary Bell.

"You and I, and Bella," answered Mary Erskine. "I will tell you what my plan is. I expect that I shall conclude to stay here, and live in this house alone for some years to come, and the children can not go to school, for there is now nobody to take them, and it is too far for them to go alone. I must teach them myself at home, or else they can not learn. I am very sorry indeed now that I did not learn to read and write when I was a child: for that would have saved me the time and trouble of learning now. But I think I can learn now. Don't you think I can, Mary?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," said Mary Bell, "I am sure you can. It is very easy to read."

"I am going to try," continued Mary Erskine, "and so I want you to teach me. And while you are teaching me, Bella may as well begin at the same time. So that you will have two scholars."

"Three—you said three scholars," rejoined Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Mary Erskine. "You shall be the third scholar. I am going to teach you to draw."

"Do you know how to draw?" asked Mary Bell, surprised.

"No," said Mary Erskine, "but I can show you how to learn."

"Well," said Mary Bell, "I should like to learn to draw very much indeed. Though I don't see how any body can teach a thing unless they can do it themselves."

"Sometimes they can," said Mary Erskine. "A man may teach a horse to canter, without being able to canter himself."

Mary Bell laughed at the idea of a man attempting to canter, and said that she should be very glad to try to learn to draw. Mary Erskine then said that after they had finished their breakfast the children might go out an hour to walk and play, and that then when they should come in, they would find every thing ready for the school.

Mary Bell concluded to take a walk about the farm during the time which they were allowed to spend in play, before the school was to begin. So she and Bella put on their bonnets, and bidding Mary Erskine good morning, they sallied forth. As they came out at the great stoop door their attention was arrested by the sound of a cow-bell. The sound seemed to come from the barn-yard.

"Ah," said Mary Bell, "there is Queen Bess going to pasture this morning. How glad I was to see her yesterday in the woods! Let us go and see her now."

So saying she led the way around the corner of the house, by a pleasant path through the high grass that was growing in the yard, toward the barns. Bella followed her. They passed through a gate, then across a little lane, then through a gate on the other side of the lane, which led into the barn-yards. The barns, like the house, were built of logs, but they were very neatly made, and the yards around them were at this season of the year dry and green.

Mary and Bella walked on across the barn-yard until they got to the back side of the barn, when they found Thomas turning the cows into a little green lane which led to the pasture. It was not very far to the pasture bars, and so Mary Bell proposed that they should go and help Thomas drive the cows. They accordingly went on, but they had not gone far before they came to a brook, which here flowed across the lane. The cows walked directly through the brook, while Thomas got across it by stepping over some stones at one side. Mary Bell thought that the spaces were a little too wide for Bella to jump over, so she concluded not to go any farther in that direction.

Bella then proposed that they should go and see the new house. This Mary Bell thought would be an excellent plan if Bella's mother would give them leave. They accordingly went in to ask her. They found her in the back stoop, employed in straining the milk which Thomas had brought in. She was straining it into great pans. She said that she should like to have the children go and see the new house very much indeed, and she gave them the key, so that they might go into it. The children took the key and went across the fields by a winding path until they came out into the main road again, near the new house. The house was in a very pleasant place indeed. There was a green yard in front of it, and a place for a garden at one side. At the other side was a wide yard open to the road, so that persons could ride up to the door without the trouble of opening any gate. The children walked up this open yard.

They went to the door, intending to unlock it with their key, but they were surprised to find that there was not any key hole. Mary Bell said that she supposed the key hole was not made yet. They tried to open the door, but they could not succeed. It was obviously fastened on the inside.

"Now how can we get in?" said Bella.

"I don't see," replied Mary Bell, "and I can't think how they locked the door without any key-hole."

"Could not we climb in at one of the windows?" said Mary Bell,—"only they are so high up!"

The children looked around at the windows. They were all too high from the ground for them to reach. There was, however, a heap of short blocks and boards which the carpenters had left in the yard near the house, and Mary Bell said that perhaps they could build up a "climbing pile" with them, so as to get in at a window. She accordingly went to this heap, and by means of considerable exertion and toil she rolled two large blocks—the ends of sticks of timber which the carpenters had sawed off in framing the house—up under the nearest window. She placed these blocks, which were about two feet long, at a little distance apart under the window, with one end of each block against the house. She then, with Bella's help, got some short boards from the pile, and placed them across these blocks from one to the other, making a sort of a flooring.

"There," said Mary Bell, looking at the work with great satisfaction, "that is one story."

Then she brought two more blocks, and laid them upon the flooring over the first two, placing the second pair of blocks, like the first, at right angles to the house, and with the ends close against it to keep them steady. On these blocks she laid a second flooring of short boards, which made the second story. She then stepped up upon the staging which she had thus built, to see if it was steady. It was very steady indeed.

"Let me get up on it," said Bella.

Bella accordingly climbed up, and she and Mary Bell danced upon it together in great glee for some time to show how steady it was.

Mary Bell then attempted to open the window. She found that she could open it a little way, but not far enough to get in. So she said that she must make one more "story." They then both went back to the pile, and got two more blocks and another board to lay across upon the top of them for a flooring, and when these were placed, Mary Bell found that she could raise the window very high. She got a long stick to put under it to hold it up, and then tried to climb in.

She found, however, that the window sill over which she was to climb was still rather too high; but, at length, after various consultations and experiments, Bella succeeded in getting up by means of the help which Mary Bell, who was large and strong, gave her, by "boosting her," as she called it, that is, pushing her up from below while she climbed by means of her arms clasped over the window sill above. Bella being thus in the house, took the key, which Mary Bell handed her for the purpose, and went along to the entry to unlock the door, while Mary Bell, stepping down from the scaffolding, went to the door on the outside, ready to enter when it should be opened. The children had no doubt that there was a key-hole in the lock on the inside, although there was none made in the door on the outside.

When, however, Bella reached the door on the inside, she called out to Mary Bell, through the door, to say that she could not find any key-hole.

"It is in the lock," said Mary Bell.

"But there is not any lock," said Bella.

"Is not there any thing?" asked Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Bella, "there is a bolt."

"Oh, very well, then, open the bolt," replied Mary Bell.

After a great deal of tugging and pushing at the bolt, Bella succeeded in getting it back, but even then the door would not come open. It was new, and it fitted very tight. Bella said that Mary Bell must push from the outside, while she held up the latch. Mary Bell accordingly pushed with all her force, and at length the door flew open, and to their great joy they found themselves both fairly admitted to the house.

They rambled about for some time, looking at the different rooms, and at the various conveniences for house-keeping which Albert had planned, and which were all just ready for use when Albert had died. There was a sink in the kitchen, with a little spout leading into it, from which the water was running in a constant stream. It came from an aqueduct of logs brought under ground. There was a tin dipper there upon the top of the post which the water-spout came out of, and Mary Bell and Bella had an excellent drink from it the first thing. The kitchen floor was covered with shavings, and the children played in them for some time, until they were tired. Then they went and got another drink.

When they at last got tired of the kitchen, they went to a window at the back side of the sitting-room, which looked out toward the garden, and commanded also a beautiful prospect beyond. They opened this window in order to see the garden better. A fresh and delightful breeze came in immediately, which the children enjoyed very much. The breeze, however, in drawing through the house, shut all the doors which the children had left open, with a loud noise, and then having no longer any egress, it ceased to come in. The air seemed suddenly to become calm; the children stood for some time at the window, looking out at the garden, and at the pond, and the mountains beyond.

At length they shut the window again, and went to the door at which they had entered, and found it shut fast. They could not open it, for there was now no one to push upon the outside. Mary Bell laughed. Bella looked very much frightened.

"What shall we do?" said she. "We can't get out."

"Oh, don't be afraid," said Mary Bell, "we will get out some way or other."

She then tried again to open the door, exerting all her strength in pulling upon the latch, but all in vain. They were finally obliged to give up the attempt as utterly hopeless.

Mary Bell then led the way to the window where Bella had got in, and looked out upon the little scaffolding. It looked as if the window was too high above the scaffolding for them to get down there safely. One of them might, perhaps, have succeeded in descending, if the other had been outside to help her down; but as it was, Mary Bell herself did not dare to make the attempt.

"I will tell you what we will do," said Mary Bell. "We will go to another window where there are no blocks below, and throw all the shavings out from the kitchen. That will make a soft bed for us to jump upon."

"Well," said Bella, "let us do that."

So they went to the kitchen, and opening one of the windows, they began to gather up the shavings in their arms from off the floor, and to throw them out. They worked very industriously at this undertaking for a long time, until the kitchen floor was entirely cleared. They picked out carefully all the sticks, and blocks, and pieces of board which were mixed with the shavings, before throwing them out, in order that there might be nothing hard in the heap which they were to jump upon. When the work was completed, and all the shavings were out, they went to the window, and leaning over the sill, they looked down.

"I wish we had some more shavings," said Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Bella, "that is too far to jump down. We can't get out any way at all." So saying, she began to cry.

"Don't cry, Bella," said Mary Bell, in a soothing tone. "It is no matter if we can't get out, for your mother knows that we came here, and if we don't come home in an hour, she will come for us and let us out."

"But perhaps there is a ladder somewhere," added Mary Bell, after a short pause. "Perhaps we can find a ladder that the carpenters have left somewhere about. If there is, we can put it out the window, and then climb down upon it. Let us go and look."

"Well," said Bella, "so we will."

The two children accordingly set off on an exploring tour to find a ladder. Mary Bell went toward the front part of the house, and Bella into the back kitchen. They looked not only in the rooms, but also in the passage-ways and closets, and in every corner where a ladder could possibly be hid. At length, just as Mary Bell was going up the stairs, in order to look into the little attic chambers, she heard Bella calling out from the back part of the house, in a tone of voice expressive of great exultation and joy.

"She has found the ladder," said Mary Bell, and leaving the stairs she went to meet her.

She found Bella running through the kitchen toward the entry where Mary Bell was, calling out with great appearance of delight,

"I've found the key-hole, Mary Bell! I've found the key-hole!"

This was indeed true. The lock to which the key that Mary Erskine had given the children belonged, was upon the back door, the principal door of the house being fastened by a bolt. Mary Bell went to the back door, and easily opened it by means of the key. Glad to discover this mode of escape from their thraldom, the children ran out, and capered about upon the back stoop in great glee. Presently they went in again and shut all the windows which they had opened, and then came out, locking the door after them, and set out on their return home.

When they arrived, they found that Mary Erskine had got every thing ready for the school.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE SCHOOL

Good teachers and proper conveniences for study, tend very much, it is true, to facilitate the progress of pupils in all attempts for the acquisition of knowledge. But where these advantages cannot be enjoyed, it is astonishing how far a little ingenuity, and resolution, and earnestness, on the part of the pupil, will atone for the deficiency. No child need ever be deterred from undertaking any study adapted to his years and previous attainments, for want of the necessary implements or apparatus, or the requisite means of instruction. The means of supplying the want of these things are always at the command of those who are intelligent, resolute, and determined. It is only the irresolute, the incompetent, and the feeble-minded that are dependent for their progress on having a teacher to show them and to urge them onward, every step of the way.

When Mary Bell and Bella returned home they found that Mary Erskine had made all the preparations necessary for the commencement of the school. She had made a desk for the two children by means of the ironing-board, which was a long and wide board, made very smooth on both sides. This board Mary Erskine placed across two chairs, having previously laid two blocks of wood upon the chairs in a line with the back side of the board, in such a manner as to raise that side and to cause the board to slope forward like a desk. She had placed two stools in front of this desk for seats.

Upon this desk, at one end of it, the end, namely, at which Bella was to sit, Mary Erskine had placed a small thin board which she found in the shop, and by the side of it a piece of chalk. This small board and piece of chalk were to be used instead of a slate and pencil.

At Mary Bell's end of the desk there was a piece of paper and a pen, which Mary Erskine had taken out of her work-table. By the side of the paper and pen was Bella's picture-book. This picture-book was a small but very pretty picture-book, which Mary Bell had given to Bella for a present on her birth-day, the year before. The picture-book looked, as it lay upon the desk, as if it were perfectly new. Mary Erskine had kept it very carefully in her work-table drawer, as it was the only picture-book that Bella had. She was accustomed to take it out sometimes in the evening, and show the pictures to Bella, one by one, explaining them at the same time, so far as she could guess at the story from the picture itself, for neither she herself, nor Bella, could understand a word of the reading. On these occasions Mary Erskine never allowed Bella to touch the book, but always turned over the leaves herself, and that too in a very careful manner, so as to preserve it in its original condition, smooth, fresh, and unsullied.

Mary Bell and Bella looked at the desk which Mary Erskine had prepared for them, and liked it very much indeed.

"But where are you going to study?" asked Mary Bell.

"I shall study at my work-table, but not now. I can't study until the evening. I have my work to do, all the day, and so I shall not begin my studies until the evening when you children are all gone to bed. And besides, there is only one pen."

"Oh, but you will not want the pen," said Mary Bell. "You are going to learn to read."

"No," said Mary Erskine. "I am going to learn to write first."

"Not first," said Mary Bell. "We always learn to read, before we learn to write."

"But I am going to learn to write first," said Mary Erskine. "I have been thinking about it, and I think that will be best. I have got the plan all formed. I shall want you to set me a copy, and then this evening I shall write it."

"Well," said Mary Bell, "I will. The first copy must be straight marks."

"No," said Mary Erskine, "the first thing is to learn to write my name. I shall never have any occasion to write straight marks, but I shall want to write my name a great many times."

"Oh, but you can't begin with writing your name," said Mary Bell.

"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I am going to begin with Mary: only Mary. I want you to write me two copies, one with the letters all separate, and the other with the letters together.

"Well," said Mary Bell, "I will." So she sat down to her desk, taking up her pen, she dipped it into the inkstand. The inkstand had been placed into the chair which Mary Bell's end of the ironing-board rested upon. It could not stand safely on the board itself as that was sloping.

Mary Bell wrote the letters M—A—R—Y, in a large plain hand upon the top of the paper, and then in a same line she wrote them again, joining them together in a word. Mary Erskine stood by while she wrote, examining very attentively her method of doing the work, and especially her way of holding the pen. When the copy was finished, Mary Erskine cut it off from the top of the paper and pinned it up against the side of the room, where she could look at it and study the names of the letters in the intervals of her work during the day.

"There," said she in a tone of satisfaction when this was done. "I have got my work before me. The next thing is to give Bella hers."

It was decided that Bella should pursue a different method from her mother. She was to learn the letters of the alphabet in regular order, taking the first two, a and b, for her first lesson. Mary Bell made copies of those two letters for her, with the chalk, upon the top of the board. She made these letters in the form of printed and not written characters, because the object was to teach Bella to read printed books.

"Now," said Mary Erskine to Bella, "you must study a and b for half an hour. I shall tell you when I think the half hour is out. If you get tired of sitting at your desk, you may take your board and your chalk out to the door and sit upon the step. You must spend all the time in making the letters on the board, and you may say a and b while you are making the letters, but besides that you must not speak a word. For every time that you speak, except to say a and b, after I tell you to begin, you will have to pick up a basket of chips."

Picking up baskets of chips was the common punishment that Bella was subjected to for her childish misdemeanors. There was a bin in the stoop, where she used to put them, and a small basket hanging up by the side of it. The chip-yard was behind the house, and there was always an abundant supply of chips in it, from Albert's cutting. The basket, it is true, was quite small, and to fill it once with chips, was but a slight punishment; but slight punishments are always sufficient for sustaining any just and equitable government, provided they are certain to follow transgression, and are strictly and faithfully enforced. Bella was a very obedient and submissive child, though she had scarcely ever been subjected to any heavier punishment than picking up chips.

"Shall I begin now?" said Bella.

"No," replied her mother, "wait, if you like, till Mary Bell has taken her lesson."

"I don't see how I am going to draw," said Mary Bell, "without any pencil."

"You will have to draw with the pen," said Mary Erskine. "I am very sorry that I have not got any pencil for you."

So saying, Mary Erskine took up the picture-book, and began turning over the leaves, to find, as she said, the picture of a house. She should think, she said, that the picture of a house would be a good thing to begin with.

She found a view of a house in the third picture in the book. There was a great deal in the picture besides the house, but Mary Erskine said that the house alone should be the lesson. There was a pond near it, with a shore, and ducks and geese swimming in the water. Then there was a fence and a gate, and a boy coming through the gate, and some trees. There was one large tree with a swing hanging from one of the branches.

"Now, Mary," said Mary Erskine, speaking to Mary Bell, "you may take the house alone. First you must look at it carefully, and examine all the little lines and marks, and see exactly how they are made. There is the chimney, for example. See first what the shape of the outline of it is, and look at all those little lines, and those, and those," continued Mary Erskine, pointing to the different parts of the chimney. "You must examine in the same way all the other lines, in all the other parts of the picture, and see exactly how fine they are, and how near together they are, so that you can imitate them exactly. Then you must make some little dots upon your paper to mark the length and breadth of the house, so as to get it of the right shape; and then draw the lines and finish it all exactly as it is in the book."

Bella looked over very attentively, while her mother was explaining these things to Mary Bell, and then said that she would rather draw a house than make letters.

"No," said her mother, "you must make letters."

"But it is harder to make letters than it is to make a house," said Bella.

"Yes," said her mother, "I think it is."

"And I think," said Bella, "that the littlest scholar ought to have the easiest things to do."

Mary Erskine laughed, and said that in schools, those things were not done that seemed best to the scholars, but those that seemed best to the teachers.

"Then," said Mary Bell, "why must not you write marks."

Mary Erskine laughed still more at this, and said she acknowledged that the children had got her penned up in a corner.

"Now," said Mary Erskine, "are you ready to begin; because when you once begin, you must not speak a word till the half hour is out."

"Yes," said the children, "we are ready."

"Then begin," said Mary Erskine.

The children began with great gravity and silence, each at her separate task, while Mary Erskine went on with her own regular employment. The silence continued unbroken for about five minutes, when Bella laid down her chalk in a despairing manner, saying,

"O dear me! I can't make a a."

"There's one basket of chips," said Mary Erskine.

"Why I really can't," said Bella, "I have tried three times."

"Two baskets of chips," said her mother. "Make two marks on the corner of your board," she continued, "and every time you speak put down another, so that we can remember how many baskets of chips you have to pick up."

Bella looked rather disconsolate at receiving this direction. She knew, however, that she must obey. She was also well aware that she would certainly have to pick up as many baskets of chips as should be indicated by the line of chalk marks. She, therefore, resumed her work, inwardly resolving that she would not speak another word. All this time, Mary Bell went on with her drawing, without apparently paying any attention to the conversation between Bella and her mother.