Kitabı oku: «Bessie at the Sea-Side», sayfa 7

XIV.
WHO IS A LADY?

IN the afternoon the children asked their grandmother if they might go down upon the beach, but she said it was still too warm, and she did not wish Bessie to go out until the sun was down.

"Grandma is going to take her nap now," said Aunt Annie; "suppose we go out on the piazza and have a store, and ask Lily and Gracie to come play with you."

"Is Miss Adams there?" asked Maggie.

"No, but the colonel has had his arm-chair taken out, and is sitting there with Mrs. Rush, and I am going there with my work; so you will be quite safe."

"Oh, then we'll go," said Bessie. She did not feel afraid where the colonel was.

"Are you going to sew with Mrs. Rush again?" asked Maggie.

Aunt Annie laughed and pinched her cheeks, telling her not to be inquisitive. For the last few days Aunt Annie had always seemed to be sewing with Mrs. Rush, and they were very busy, but they did not appear to wish to let the little girls know what they were doing. Annie was always whisking her work out of their sight, and if they asked any questions, they were put off, or told, as Maggie was now, not to be curious.

Once when they were staying with the colonel, when Mrs. Rush had gone out for a while, he sent Bessie to a certain drawer to find a knife. Bessie did as she was told, but as she was looking for it, she suddenly called out, "Oh, what a dear darling little cap! just like a dolly's. Why, does Mrs. Yush play with dolls when nobody looks at her?"

"Holloa!" said the colonel, "I forgot; come away from that drawer. I'm a nice man; can't keep my own secrets."

Maggie was going to ask some questions; but the colonel began to talk about something else, and they both forgot the little cap. But they were very curious to know why Aunt Annie and Mrs. Rush were always whispering and laughing and showing each other their work, as well as why it was so often put away when they came near. To-day Aunt Annie was embroidering a little piece of muslin, but she did not put it out of their sight, though she would answer no questions about it.

They all went out on the piazza to set about making what Maggie called, "A Grocery and Perwision Store." The piazza steps ended in two large blocks of wood, and on one of these they were to play. Aunt Annie made some paper boxes to hold some of their things, and they had clam shells for the rest. They had sand for sugar, blades of timothy grass for corn, sea-weed for smoked beef and ham, and small pebbles for eggs, with larger ones for potatoes. In short, it was quite wonderful to see the number of things they contrived to have for sale. When the colonel found what they were about, he called for a couple of clam shells, and sent his man for a piece of wood and some twine; with these he made a pair of scales, which Maggie and Bessie thought quite splendid. To be sure, one side was ever so much heavier than the other, but that did not matter in the least; neither they nor their customers would be troubled by a trifle like that. Then he gave them a couple of bullets and some shot for weights, so that the whole thing was fixed in fine style.

Maggie went to call Lily and Gracie, and when Mamie Stone heard what was going on, she asked if she might come too. Maggie said "Yes," for Mamie was not so disagreeable as she used to be when she first came to Quam Beach. However fretful and selfish she was when she was playing with other children, she was almost always pleasant when she was with Maggie and Bessie.

Maggie went back with her to their little playmates, and in a few moments they were all as busy as bees. Maggie said Bessie must be store-keeper, for she knew she did not feel like running about.

They had been playing but a little while, when Walter came up, and when he saw what they were doing, he said he would be a customer too. He was a capital playfellow, and pretended to be ever so many different people. First, he was an old negro man, then he was a naughty boy, who meddled with everything on the counter, and gave the little shop-woman a great deal of trouble, which she enjoyed very much; then he was a Frenchman, who spoke broken English; and after that, he pretended to be a cross old Irishman.

While they were playing so nicely, who should come sweeping down the piazza but Miss Adams, dressed in her riding-habit? Away went all the little girls like a flock of frightened birds. Mamie and Lily ran into the parlor, where they peeped at her from behind the blinds; Gracie scrambled into Annie Stanton's lap; Maggie squeezed herself in between the colonel and Mrs. Rush; and Bessie walked to the other side of the colonel, where she stood with her hand on his chair.

Miss Adams was vexed when she saw them all fly off so, for she had not come with any intention of interrupting or teasing them. She was going out to ride, and had walked to the window of the hall above, to see if the horses were at the door, and there she had noticed the children at their play.

Bessie stood quietly behind her counter, while the rest ran about after Maggie. She looked more pale and languid than usual that afternoon, as she always did when she had been tired or excited. All the soft pink color which had come into her cheek since she had been at Quam Beach was quite gone; it was no wonder that grandma frowned and bit her lip to keep herself from saying sharp things when she looked at her darling that day.

Now, Miss Adams always said that she was afraid of nobody, and did not care what people said of her; but as she watched the delicate little child, who she knew had been brought by her parents to the sea-shore that she might gain health and strength, she felt sorry that she had plagued her so, and thought that she would like to make it up with her. She went into her room, put a large packet of sugar-plums into her pocket, and then went down stairs. She came up to Bessie just as the little girl reached the colonel's side, and, standing before her, said, —

"Well, Bessie, are you in a better humor yet?"

Bessie was certainly not pale now. A very bright color had come into her cheeks, as Miss Adams spoke to her, but she said nothing.

"Come," said Miss Adams, holding out the parcel, "here are some sugar-plums for you; come, kiss me and make up."

"I'll forgive you," said Bessie, gravely; "but I don't want the sugar-plums."

"Oh, yes, you do!" said Miss Adams; "come and kiss me for them."

"I don't kiss people for sugar-plums," said Bessie; "and I'm sure I don't want them."

"Then come and kiss me without the sugar-plums."

"No," said Bessie, "I'll shake hands with you, but I don't kiss people I don't like."

"Oh!" said Miss Adams, "I suppose you keep all your kisses for your friend, the colonel."

"Oh, no," answered Bessie, "a great many are for papa and mamma, and the yest of the people I like."

Miss Adams saw that the colonel was laughing behind his newspaper, and she was provoked.

"And you don't like me, eh?" she said, sharply. "Don't you know it's very rude to tell a lady you don't like her, and wont kiss her?"

Bessie opened her eyes very wide. "Are you a lady?" she asked, in a tone of great surprise.

Mrs. Rush did not wish to have Miss Adams go on talking to the child, for she was afraid straightforward Bessie would say something which would cause fresh trouble; and she begged Annie Stanton to take her away; but Annie would not; she rather enjoyed the prospect, and when Mrs. Rush would have spoken herself, her husband put out his hand and stopped her.

"A lady!" repeated Miss Adams; "what do you take me for? Don't you know a lady when you see one?"

"Oh, yes," answered Bessie, innocently. "Mamma's a lady, and grandma and Aunt Annie and Mrs. Yush, and ever so many others."

"And I'm not, eh?" said Miss Adams, angrily.

Bessie did not answer, but peeped up under the colonel's paper, to see if he would help her; but he did not seem inclined to interfere. His eyes were fixed on the paper which he held before his face, and his other hand was busily engaged in smoothing his moustache.

Miss Adams was very angry. She would not have cared if she had been alone with Bessie; but she was provoked that she should tell her she was not a lady, before so many people, for two or three gentlemen had gathered near, and the colonel's amusement vexed her still more.

"You don't call me a lady, eh?" said Miss Adams again.

"How can you quarrel with such a baby about nothing, Miss Adams?" said Mrs. Rush, rising from her seat.

"She is no baby. She knows very well what she is about, and she has been put up to this," said Miss Adams, with a furious look at the colonel. "Who told you I was not a lady?"

"Nobody; I just knew it myself," said Bessie, drawing closer to the colonel, as Miss Adams came nearer to her. He threw down his paper, and put his hand over her shoulder.

"You little impertinent!" said Miss Adams, "who made you a judge, I should like to know? Not a lady, indeed!"

Poor Bessie! She would not say what she did not think, and she did not like to say what she did think; but she was tired of the dispute, and thought Miss Adams would have an answer. She gave a long sigh, and said, —

"Well, perhaps you are a kind of a lady; but if you are, it must be a kitchen or stable lady."

The gentlemen who were standing by walked quickly away; Mrs. Rush looked frightened; Annie bent her head down on Gracie's shoulder, and shook with laughter; and the colonel reached his crutches and, rising, began to steady himself.

Miss Adams stood silent a moment, and then began to speak in a voice almost choked with rage, "You little – " when the colonel interrupted her.

"Excuse me, madam," he said, "if I remind you that you have no one to blame for this but yourself. The child is straightforward and honest, accustomed to speak as she thinks; and if she has said what was better left unsaid, remember that you forced her to it. I cannot permit her to be annoyed any farther."

Helpless as he was, he looked so grand and tall as he stood there with his eyes fixed sternly on Miss Adams, that she felt abashed. Mrs. Rush had taken Bessie into her room, Annie had followed with Maggie and Gracie, and there was no one left to quarrel with but the colonel. Just at that moment the horses were led up, and she turned away and went down the steps to mount.

But Miss Adams had never been so annoyed. She had no mother, or perhaps she would not have been so rough and unladylike; but she had had many a reproof from other people. Many a grave, elderly lady, and even some of her own age, had spoken, some kindly, some severely, upon the wild, boisterous manner in which she chose to behave. But she had always laughed at all they said, and went on as before. But that this innocent little child, to whom she had been so unkind, should see for herself that she had acted in an improper way, and one that was only fit for the kitchen or stable, and should tell her so, and show such surprise at hearing her call herself a lady, was very mortifying, and she could not forget it.

That evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Bradford came home, they went over to the hotel for their little girls, and Annie told them all that had happened that day. After Bessie was undressed, and had said her prayers, she sat on her mother's lap, and told her of all her troubles, and then she felt happier.

"Mamma, I'm afraid I made Miss Adams mad, when I said that, and I didn't mean to," she said.

"But why did you say it, Bessie? – it was saucy."

"Why, I had to, mamma; I didn't want to; but I couldn't break the truth; she asked me and asked me, so I had to."

"Oh, my Bessie, my Bessie!" said mamma, with a low laugh, and then she held the little girl very close in her arms, and kissed her. Bessie nestled her head down on her mamma's bosom, and her mother held her there, and rocked her long after she was fast asleep. Sometimes she smiled to herself as she sat thinking and watching her child; but once or twice a bright tear dropped down on Bessie's curls. Mamma was praying that her little girl might live to grow up and be a good Christian woman, and that she might always love the truth as she did now, even when she was older and knew it was not wise to say such things as she had done to-day.

XV.
UNCLE JOHN

"A LETTER from Uncle John!" said mamma, at the breakfast-table. "I hope Nellie is no worse. No, she is better; but the doctor has ordered sea air for her, and they all want to come here, if we can find room for them, either in this house or in the hotel."

"The hotel is full, I know," said Mr. Bradford; "I do not think there is a room to be had. I wonder if Mrs. Jones can do anything for us."

"I think not," said Mrs. Bradford. "Old Mr. Duncan must be with them wherever they go, for John is not willing to leave his father alone."

"We can ask her, at least," said Mr. Bradford.

So the next time Mrs. Jones came in with a plate full of hot cakes, she was asked if she could possibly take in Mr. Duncan's family.

"Couldn't do it," she said. "If you didn't mind scroudging, I could give 'em one room; but two, I can't do it. I've plenty of beds, but no more rooms."

Maggie and Bessie looked very much disappointed. It would be such a pleasure to have Grandpapa Duncan, and all the rest.

"Suppose we gave up this little dining-room, and took our meals in the sitting-room," said Mr. Bradford; "could you put old Mr. Duncan in here?"

"Oh, yes, well enough," said Mrs. Jones. "Didn't suppose you'd be willing to do that, York folks is so partickler."

"We would be willing to do far more than that to accommodate our friends," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling.

After a little more talk with Mrs. Jones, it was all settled; so mamma sat down to write to Uncle John, telling him they might come as soon as they chose.

"Mamma," said Maggie, "what did Mrs. Jones mean by 'scroudging'?"

"She meant to crowd."

"I sha'n't take it for one of my words," said Maggie; "I don't think it sounds nice."

"No," said mamma, laughing, "I do not think it is a very pretty word; crowd is much better."

The children went out in the front porch, greatly pleased with the idea of having their Riverside friends with them. Dear Grandpapa Duncan and Aunt Helen, merry Uncle John and little Nellie! Maggie went hopping about the path, while Bessie sat down on the steps with a very contented smile. Presently she said, —

"Maggie, if you was on the grass, what would you be?"

"I don't know," said Maggie; "just Maggie Stanton Bradford, I suppose."

"You'd be a grasshopper," said Bessie.

Maggie stopped hopping to laugh. She thought this a very fine joke; and when, a moment after, her brothers came up to the house, she told them of Bessie's "conundrum." They laughed, too, and then ran off to the barn.

Maggie sat down on the step by her sister. "Bessie," she said, "don't you think Mrs. Jones is very horrid, even if she does make us gingerbread men?"

"Not very; I think she is a little horrid."

"I do," said Maggie; "she talks so; she called papa and mamma 'York folks.'"

"What does that mean?" asked Bessie.

"I don't know; something not nice, I'm sure."

"Here comes papa," said Bessie; "we'll ask him. Papa, what did Mrs. Jones mean by York folks?"

"She meant people from New York," said Mr. Bradford.

"Then why don't she say that?" said Maggie; "it sounds better."

"Well, that is her way of talking," answered Mr. Bradford.

"Do you think it a nice way, papa?"

"Not very. I should be sorry to have you speak as she does; but you must remember that the people with whom she has lived are accustomed to talk in that way, and she does not know any better."

"Then we'll teach her," said Maggie. "I'll tell her she doesn't talk properly, and that we're going to teach her."

"Indeed, you must do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Bradford, smiling at the idea of his shy Maggie teaching Mrs. Jones; "she would be very much offended."

"Why, papa," said Bessie, "don't she like to do what is yight?"

"Yes, so far as I can tell, she wishes to do right; but probably she thinks she speaks very well, and she would think it impertinent if two such little girls were to try to teach her. It is not really wrong for a person to talk in the way she does, if they know no better. It would be wrong and vulgar for you to do so, because you have been taught to speak correctly."

"And do we do it?" said Bessie. "Do we speak coryectly?"

"Pretty well for such little girls," said papa.

"Mrs. Jones laughs at us because she says we use such big words," said Maggie; "and Mr. Jones does too. They ought not to do it, when they don't know how to talk themselves. I like grown-up words, and I am going to say them, if they do laugh."

"Well, there is no harm in that, if you understand their meaning," said papa; "but I would not feel unkindly towards Mrs. Jones; she means to be good and kind to you, and I think she is so; and you must not mind if her manner is not always very pleasant."

"But she called you and mamma particular," said Maggie, who was determined not to be pleased with Mrs. Jones.

"Well, if Mrs. Jones thinks we are too particular about some things, we think she is not particular enough; so neither one thinks the other quite perfect."

Maggie did not think this mended the matter at all. But just then the nurses came with the younger children, and after their father had played with them for a while, they all went for their morning walk on the beach.

Two days after, the party came from Riverside, and, with some crowding, were all made comfortable. They almost lived out of doors in this beautiful weather, and so did not mind some little inconveniences in the house.

Uncle John was always ready for a frolic. Now he would hire Mr. Jones' large farm wagon and two horses, cover the bottom of the wagon with straw, pack in Aunt Annie and the little Bradfords, and as many other boys and girls as it would hold, and start off for a long drive. Then he said they must have a clam-bake, and a clam-bake they had; not only one, but several. Sometimes Uncle John would invite their friends from the hotel, and they would have quite a grand affair; but, generally, they had only their own family, with Mrs. Rush, and the colonel when he was well enough to come; and the children enjoyed the smaller parties much more than they did the larger ones. First, a large, shallow hole was made in the sand, in which the clams were placed, standing on end; a fire was built on top of them, and they were left until they were well roasted, when they were pulled out and eaten with bread and butter.

When Mrs. Jones found how fond the children were of roast clams, she often had them for their breakfast or supper; but they never tasted so good as they did when they were cooked in the sand and eaten on the shore.

One cool, bright afternoon, Mr. Bradford and Mr. Duncan went down to the beach for a walk. The children had been out for some time: Maggie was racing about with the boys; Bessie, sitting on the sand beside a pool of salt water, looking into it so earnestly that she did not see her father and uncle till they were quite close to her.

"What is my little girl looking at?" said her father, sitting down on a great stone which was near.

"Such an ugly thing!" said Bessie.

Papa leaned forward and looked into the pool, and there he saw the thing Bessie thought so ugly. It was a small salt-water crab which had been left there by the tide. He was very black and had long, sprawling legs, spreading out in every direction. He lay quite still in the bottom of the pool, with his great eyes staring straight forward, and did not seem to be in the least disturbed by the presence of his visitors.

"What do you suppose he is thinking about, Bessie?" said Uncle John.

"I guess he thinks he looks pretty nasty," said Bessie; "I do."

"Bessie," said her father, "it seems to me that you and Maggie say 'nasty' very often. I do not think it is at all a pretty word for little girls to use."

"Then I wont say it," said Bessie; "but when a thing looks – looks that way, what shall I say?"

"You might say ugly," said Mr. Bradford.

"But, papa, sometimes a thing looks ugly, and not nasty. I think that animal looks ugly and nasty too."

"Tell us of something that is ugly, but not nasty," said Uncle John.

Bessie looked very hard at her uncle. Now Mr. Duncan was not at all a handsome man. He had a pleasant, merry, good-natured face, but he was certainly no beauty. Bessie looked at him, and he looked back at her, with his eyes twinkling, and the corners of his mouth twitching with a smile, for he thought he knew what was coming.

"Well?" he said, when Bessie did not speak for a moment.

"Uncle John," said she, very gravely, "I think you are ugly, but I do not think you are nasty, a bit."

Uncle John laughed as if he thought this a capital joke; and Mr. Bradford smiled as he said, "It don't do to ask Bessie questions to which you do not want a straightforward answer."

"But I want to know about 'nasty,'" said Bessie. "Is it saying bad grammar, like Mrs. Jones, to say it?"

"Not exactly," said Mr. Bradford, "and you may say it when a thing is really nasty; but I think you often use it when there is no need. Perhaps this little fellow does look nasty as well as ugly; but the other day I heard Maggie say that Mamie Stone was a nasty, cross child. Now, Mamie may be cross, – I dare say she often is, – but she certainly is not nasty, for she is always neat and clean. And this morning I heard you say that you did not want 'that nasty bread and milk.' The bread and milk was quite good and sweet, and not at all nasty; but you called it so because you did not fancy it."

"Then did I tell a wicked story?" asked Bessie, looking sober at the thought of having said what was not true.

"No," said papa, "you did not tell a wicked story, for you did not mean to say that which was not so. But it is wrong to fall into the habit of using words which seem to say so much more than we mean. But do not look so grave about it, my darling; you did not intend to do anything that was not right, I am sure." —

"But, papa," said Bessie, "why did God make ugly things?"

"Because he thought it best, Bessie. He made everything in the way which best fitted it for the purpose for which he intended it. This little crab lives under the sea, where he has a great many enemies, and where he has to find his food. With these round, staring eyes which stand out so far from his head, he can look in every direction and see if any danger is near, or if there is anything which may do for him to eat. With these long, awkward legs, he can scamper out of the way, and with those sharp claws, he fights, for he is a quarrelsome little fellow. He can give a good pinch with them, and you had better not put your fingers too near them. Under that hard, black shell, he has a tender body, which would be hurt by the rocks and stones among which he lives, if he had not something to protect it."

Uncle John took up a stick. "Here, Johnny Crab," he said, "let us see how you can fight;" and he put the stick in the water and stirred up the crab. The moment he was touched, the crab began to move all his legs, and to scuttle round the pool as if he wanted to get out. But Uncle John did not mean to let him come out until he had shown Bessie what a nip he could give with those pincers of his. He pushed him back, and put the stick close to one of his larger claws. The crab took hold of it, as if he were very angry, and such a pinch as he gave it!

"See there, Bessie," said Uncle John, "are you not glad it is not one of your little fingers he has hold of?"

"Yes," said Bessie, climbing on her father's knee as the crab tried to get out. "I didn't know he could pinch like that."

"Or you would not have sat so quietly watching him, eh, Bessie?" said Uncle John. "Well, romp," – to Maggie, as she rushed up to them, rosy and out of breath, and jumping upon the rock behind him, threw both arms around his neck, – "well, romp, here is a gentleman who wishes to make your acquaintance."

"Why, Uncle John, what a horrid, nasty thing! What is it?" said Maggie, as her uncle pushed back the crab, which was still trying to get out of the pool.

"There it goes again," said Uncle John, – "horrid, nasty thing! Poor little crab!"

"Maggie," said Bessie, "we must not say 'nasty.' Papa says it means what we do not mean, and it's unproper. Tell her about it, papa."

"No," said papa, "we will not have another lecture now. By and by you may tell her. I think you can remember all I have said."

"Now see, Maggie," said Uncle John, "you have hurt the crab's feelings so that he is in a great hurry to run off home. I am sure his mother thinks him a very handsome fellow, and he wants to go and tell her how he went on his travels and met a monster who had the bad taste to call him 'a horrid, nasty thing.'"

"Oh," said Bessie, laughing, "what a funny Uncle John you are! But I should think it would hurt the crab's feelings a great deal more to be poked with a stick, and not to be let to go home when he wants to. I don't believe he knows what Maggie says."

"I think you are about right, Bessie; I guess we must let him go."

So the next time the crab tried to come out of the pool, Uncle John put the stick by his claw, and when he took hold of it, lifted him out of the water and laid him on the sand. Away the crab scampered as fast as his long legs could carry him, moving in a curious side-long fashion, which amused the children very much. They followed him as near to the water's edge as they were allowed to go, and then ran back to their father.