PROGRESS.
HETTY'S knitting went on most prosperously for two or three days. Like
most girls, she was fond of novelty, and any new piece of work was apt
to engage all her attention,—while it was new. In the present instance,
she worked so hard and so steadily as to draw forth a caution from her
mother.
"You must be more moderate, my love. You are not used to knitting,
and unless you are careful you will make your shoulders lame and your
fingers sore, and there will be an end of your work for some time."
But Hetty could not be cautioned. She declared it did not hurt her
fingers nor tire her the least bit.
But after a few days, Mrs. Laurens noticed that the stocking was laid
down several times in the course of the evening, and finally put aside
altogether.
"What is the matter, Hetty? Have you any difficulty with your work?"
"No, mother; but I have rubbed a piece of skin off my finger in some
way, and this afternoon I went to push my needle down, and the point
went into the sore place; and now it pains me so, you can't think!"
"You should have taken advice, you see, my dear. Inexperienced knitters
are very apt—"
"But, mother," interrupted Hetty, "it was not the knitting. It was
because the skin was off."
"How came the skin off, my dear?"
Hetty could not tell. She could not deny that the finger ached badly,
but was quite sure it would be all right in the morning. In the
morning, however, it was worse than ever, swollen and inflamed, and
Mrs. Laurens decided that it must be poulticed, and that Henrietta
must stay at home and take care of it. Hetty was unwilling to let her
stocking alone; but it was clearly impossible to knit with her right
forefinger tied up in a bag of bread-and-milk, and she was obliged to
submit.
In two or three days, the finger was well, but Hetty's ardour had
evidently abated. Her stocking was not taken up the moment she entered
the house and kept in hand till bedtime. On the contrary, she found
time to read, to play, and even to make a rain-cloak for her doll,—for
Henrietta had not quite given up dolls, though she had begun to be
rather ashamed of them.
"I am afraid you are growing tired of your knitting, Hetty," said her
mother, one evening, as Henrietta, after finishing her lessons, settled
herself with a story-book. "You know it was part of the bargain that
you were to finish whatever you began."
"Yes, mother, of course. But there is plenty of time before Christmas,
and I want to finish this book directly, because Minny has promised it
to Sarah Stone."
"Very well, my dear: only you will find it very unpleasant to be
hurried at the last, and you know they must be done at the time."
Henrietta made no reply, and Mrs. Laurens dropped the subject.
"I don't seem to see Miss Hetty knitting much now a-days," said Peter
to Cecy one day, as they were taking their accustomed round on the
common. "Has she got tired of it already?"
"Why, no, I don't think she is tired of it—at least she says she
isn't," replied Cecy, after some consideration. "But you know, Peter,
she had a sore finger."
"I know she had,—two weeks ago," said Peter, smiling.
"What do you think is the reason that Hetty begins things and don't
finish them, Peter?" asked Cecy.
"I think that she don't count the cost beforehand."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why, suppose you should go, we will say, to a toy-shop, to buy a
doll's house and furniture. You see a house that pleases you, and you
say at once that you will take it; but when you come to pay for it, you
find that it will use up all your money, so that you will have nothing
left to pay for your chairs and tables, and so on. That would not be
very wise, would't?"
"Why, no," replied Cecy. "I think it would be very silly, because the
house would be of no use without any thing to put in it. The best way
would be to ask the price of the house, and then of the furniture. Then
I would count my money and see if I had enough to pay for them both,
and if I had not, then I would pick out a cheaper house—"
"Or cheaper furniture, whichever you thought best," said Peter. "That
would be counting the cost."
"But yet I don't understand why you say that Hetty did not count the
cost. She had plenty of money to buy the yarn, and it does not cost any
thing to knit."
"Not in money, perhaps; but still I think it costs something. If
Miss Hetty undertakes to knit a pair of socks by a certain time, she
must give up a good many other things. She can't spend time to read
her story-books, or play with her dolly, or walk with her little
friends, and she must sit still in the house when she would rather be
out-of-doors. Perhaps Miss Hetty didn't think of all this when she
began; and that is what I mean by saying that she didn't count the
cost."
"I see," said Cecy. "After all, Peter, I can't help wishing very much
that I could knit. I should so like to make a pair of nice warm socks
for one of Uncle David's men!"
"And I should like to have you. It would be very nice if you could
knit, not only for the sake of the soldiers, but because it would help
you to amuse yourself sometimes, when your mother is busy or wants to
be doing something else."
"I know it. Sometimes I think I am selfish about that, Peter. Do you
think I am?"
"I don't think you are always quite so considerate as you might be,"
replied Peter. "That is one of the great troubles of being always sick.
People have to think of themselves a great deal, and it naturally makes
them a little selfish."
"I don't want to be selfish, Peter," said Cecy, rather anxiously; "but,
after all, it is very hard to lie on the sofa all day and do nothing at
all except think how one's shoulder aches."
"That's true," said Peter. "I think it is very hard,—especially when
you see others running about and playing as they please. You are
wonderfully cheerful and good-natured, considering all you have to
bear."
Cecy was silent for a while. "I am thinking about something very
important, Peter," said she at last; "but I am not sure—I want to count
the cost, you know. I am thinking whether if I did not ask mother to
cut me out any animals, or paint me any pictures, or hold me in her
lap, for several days, whether she could not find time to knit a pair
of socks: that would be something as if I had knit them myself,—not
just the same, but something like it."
"I think, as far as that goes, it would be a great deal better than
knitting them yourself, Cecy," replied Peter. "But I am afraid you
would find it very dull, wouldn't you?"
"I suppose it would be tiresome," said Cecy, with a sigh; "and I am not
sure—I have not decided yet; but, then, I do want to do something for
the poor soldiers so much, and I don't see how I can in any other way.
So don't tell any one, Peter, till I quite make up my mind. See, there
is Hetty coming, with Minny Granger. I don't like Minny half so well as
Elsie Probert; but Elsie hardly ever comes to our house now. I wonder
what is the reason?"
Henrietta and Minny were coming in the opposite directions, and, as
they met, Hetty naturally stopped to speak to her sister.
"Are you having a nice time, Cecy? Why don't you go and see the
flowers?"
"I like to walk here under the trees, and, besides, I love to watch
the squirrels. Only think, Hetty, I saw one of them walk right up on a
gentleman's knee and eat an almond out of his fingers!"
"Oh, what a story!" exclaimed Minny, thoughtlessly.
Cecy coloured in a way very unusual with her, and looked just ready to
cry.
"You are very wrong to speak in that way, Miss Minny," said Peter,
gravely. "Cecy never tells stories. I wish all the little girls I know
were as good as she is, about that."
"Well, well, I don't choose to be lectured by you," returned Minny,
colouring in her turn from vexation. "Come along, Hetty: I don't want
to stay here all day, with every one staring at us. What an impudent
man that is!" she continued, as they walked on. "I don't see how your
mother can keep him."
"Peter is not impudent," said Hetty, not at all pleased with Minny's
tone and manner. "I think some one else was impudent, for my part. You
had no business to speak so to Cecy. Mother says she never knew a child
so truthful as she is; and as for the squirrel, I have seen him do it
myself, dozens of times."
"Dear me! What a fuss about nothing!" exclaimed Minny. "What did I say,
after all? Who minds what they say to such children?"
Henrietta did not answer, and they walked along a little while in
silence.
"After all, Hetty," resumed Minny, after a pause, "I do wonder that a
lady of your mother's taste should let a poor little deformed fright,
like Cecy, be made so conspicuous. I should think she would rather keep
her out of sight. Everybody notices her, and knows who she belongs to,
of course; and people make remarks about it, I can tell you."
"People had better mind their own business, I think," replied Henrietta.
"Oh, yes, it is very easy to say that; but, you see, they don't and
won't. And, besides, it annoys other people to see such a miserable
little object."
"They may be annoyed, then," said Henrietta, who loved her sister
dearly, though she was now and then tempted to be hasty with her. "It
would be a pretty story, indeed, if poor Cecy were to lose all the good
of being in the fresh air, and seeing the people and the children,
because she is sickly and deformed! I should think you would be
ashamed, Minny Granger."
"Dear me! What a fuss for nothing!" said Minny again. "I am sure it is
nothing to me: so you need not be so angry, Henrietta. I thought you
would like to know what people say about it: that's all. How do you get
on with your knitting?"
"I have not knit much lately," replied Henrietta, blushing a little, as
she remembered how little progress the stocking had made for the last
week. "You know my finger was sore, and that got me out of the way of
it. But there will be plenty of time before Christmas."
"Have you finished one yet?"
"No, indeed: I have not got up to the heel of the first. Have you?"
Minny laughed. "I have not knit three inches yet. The yarn is so
coarse, and the blue comes off on my fingers. After all, as Mr.
Cheselden says, it is not exactly the work for ladies."
"But, Minny, all the ladies do it! Think of Mrs. Howard, and Mrs. and
Miss Lewis,—how much they have done."
"I know that; but, after all, it is not very genteel work. But I
mean to finish mine if I can—though I sha'n't make myself a slave to
them. And that makes me think! Do you know I believe Elsie Probert is
knitting for the soldiers, after all? I see her up at her window, or in
their back parlour, day after day, with a blue yarn sock, knitting as
fast as her fingers can fly."
"I don't believe they are for the soldiers," said Hetty, an ill-defined
fooling of anger rising in her heart. "They are for her father or some
one in the family. She would have spoken of it in school."
"I don't know: I don't believe she would, after all that was said.
Anyhow, she gets help about it."
"How do you know?" asked Hetty.
"Why, you know, I can see right into their back parlour from my window.
So I looked out, and there I saw Elsie knitting away very earnestly.
I had a curiosity to see what she was doing: so I got mother's
opera-glass, and, sure enough, it was a blue yarn stocking, with a
strip of bright red yarn round the top, as if it had been put in for a
mark.
"Well, I didn't think any thing about it till the next day. I was in
the passenger-car, and in came Elsie with another lady,—her cousin, I
believe. The lady got into the car, and as Elsie bade her good-by, I
heard her say, 'Don't forget.'
"No sooner was she settled in her place than she pulled out this very
sock with the red yarn in it, and knit on it all the way to Milton. So
don't that look as if Miss Elsie was playing a double game?"
"It does, certainly," said Henrietta; "and yet I don't like to think
so. It isn't a bit like Elsie."
"Well, now, I think it is. It is just these quiet girls that teachers
think are model girls, who are always doing such things. But time will
show. Don't say any thing about it, Henrietta,—because it may be her
own stocking, after all; and then we should be in a fix."
Henrietta bade her friend good-by, and walked homeward, feeling rather
unpleasantly about several things. She was vexed at Minny for speaking
of and to Cecy as she had done, and she was annoyed at the idea that
the child should be the object of remark. She thought of the small
progress her sock had made, and of the great things she had talked of
doing. What was to become of the two or three pairs she had promised
to knit? It was now almost the end of October; and all must be done by
Christmas!
"How silly I was to say so much about it!" she said to herself. "I
don't see why I couldn't hold my tongue. I mean to knit all the
evening, at any rate. It will be too bad if Elsie should get hers done,
after all. But I don't believe it. She is always knitting for her
father or some of her host of brothers."
Evening came, and, unluckily for the sock, brought with it a new
monthly magazine. Hetty could not forego the pleasure of cutting the
leaves and looking at the pictures. But if one does not mean to read a
new book, cutting the leaves is a mere trifling with temptation.
"I will just read this one story," said Hetty. "That will not take
long."
It took till bedtime, however, and the stocking lay untouched that
night.
Next day was Saturday. Mrs. Laurens always insisted on Hetty's mending
her own stockings, and doing sundry other similar things for herself.
And when these were finished, she did not feel at all inclined to sit
down with her knitting.
"Saturday is not a good day for such things. I will begin in earnest on
Monday, and finish them as fast as I can."
Meantime, Cecy had been reflecting on the idea which had occurred to
her mind, and came to the conclusion that she would try it, at least.
So after she was put to bed, she called her mother and suggested the
project for her consideration. Mrs. Laurens was not a little surprised
and delighted at such an effort at magnanimity on the part of her
little daughter, and readily consented to do her share. She was always
afraid that Cecy's helplessness and suffering would make her selfish,
and it gave her heartfelt pleasure to see that she was capable of
making such a sacrifice.
"And, mother, please don't tell Hetty,—because I should like to
surprise her."
"Very well, my dear: I will keep the secret. I can easily do so by
knitting while she is in school."
"Don't you think I might knit a little, just a very little, you know,
mother?"
"You can try, Cecy; but you must not be disappointed if you fail.
Knitting is rather hard work for those who are unaccustomed to it."
"And will you get the yarn the first thing Monday morning?"
"I cannot say that, my dear," said her mother, smiling at her
eagerness,—"because it may rain, or I may be engaged. However, if that
should happen, I will take part of Henrietta's and buy her some more.
I promise you that, if it be possible, the socks shall be begun Monday
morning."
Monday morning came, and Cecy's gratified eyes beheld the socks fairly
begun. She would not be satisfied without trying to knit; and great was
her pleasure when she actually accomplished a whole round without an
error. She would gladly have tried another, but her mother advised her
against it.
"You have done very well for the first time, my dear, and if it does
you no harm, you may try again this afternoon. But you know it will be
bad economy both of my time and yours to make yourself sick."
To this Cecy heartily agreed. So she lay back on her pillows
and watched the rapid motion of her mother's fingers with great
satisfaction, much delighted to find that she could knit and tell
stories at the same time.
When Hetty went to school on Monday morning, she found all the knitters
in a state of great excitement. Word had come that the socks were
greatly needed and must be finished as soon as possible. Happy now
were those who had made the most of their time, and long the faces
of the little workwomen who had acted on the idea that there was no
hurry,—they could finish their work long before Christmas. Among these
last was Henrietta; and the blood mounted to her face as she thought
of her poor mateless stocking not yet up to the heel. Especially was
she annoyed at a proposition which was made by Rose, that all the
knitters should bring their work to school the next morning and compare
progress. She would gladly have opposed the idea if she could have
found any reasonable pretext for so doing, but she could think of no
reason but the true one, which she was ashamed to confess.
"What do you say, Elsie?" asked Rose, turning to her as she stood
silently by. "Are you willing to bring your work for inspection?"
"Of course," replied Elsie: "only perhaps some of the girls would like
a little more time."
"But, my dear, what difference will it make?" asked Rose. "There will
be just as much time to finish them afterwards."
"Elsie wants time to get her stocking home from Milton," whispered
Minny to Henrietta, who nodded assent without paying much attention to
what was said. She was thinking how much she could possibly knit before
to-morrow, and wondering doubtfully whether her mother would allow her
to omit her music-lesson, which occupied an hour and a half on Monday
afternoon.
"To be sure," said Elsie, smiling; "I know that, of course; but I was
thinking that some of us might like to get our work a little further
along before making a display of it."
"Then you 'are' knitting, after all, Elsie?" said Lizzy Becket.
Elsie nodded.
"Well, for my part, I like a little consistency," said Minny,
decidedly. "If I had said I wouldn't knit, at least I would stick to
it. Consistency above all things, I say."
"Above right, for instance?" said Rose.
Minny did not find it convenient to hear this question, but Rose
persisted.
"Suppose you had made a mistake, and begun your stocking too small:
would you pull it out, or would you knit it too small all the way
through for the sake of being consistent?"
"How ridiculous you are, Rose! Just as if that had any thing to do with
the matter!"
"I don't know why not," returned Rose. "It seems to me exactly a case
in point."
"But, Minny," said Elsie, "I never said I wouldn't knit. I only said I
must take time and consider the matter before I made any promise. Where
is the inconsistency in that?"
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Minny. "What a fuss about nothing! Who cares whether
you were consistent or not?"
"But how much have you done, Elsie?" asked little Isabella Chesterfield.
"You will see to-morrow," replied Elsie, good-humouredly. "That is, if
it is decided that we shall have a grand display."
"'I' am willing—" "And so am I—" was heard from one and another.
"What do you say, Henrietta?" asked Rose.
"I'm sure I don't care," replied Henrietta, pettishly. "I am heartily
sick of the whole thing, any way! I wish we had never begun."
"I say, girls," said Lizzy, "let's beset Miss Armitage to let us omit
the paper this week."
"A good thought—only she won't do it," said one of the girls.
"Why not?"
"Because—to begin with—she never does let us off from any thing; and,
besides, didn't we promise, when we began, not to ask to be let off?"
"The idea of Miss Armitage letting any one off!" exclaimed Elsie,
laughing. "And, indeed, having so promised, I don't see how we could
very 'consistently,' as Minny says, try to beg off from the papers."
"That's a very different thing!" said Minny.
"Very different, I admit; but I don't think the advantage of the
difference is on our side. No, no! Let's stick to our bargain, and do
our best. And, girls," said Elsie, "won't you bring in your pieces
to-morrow? You know I have it all to do this week."
"All what?" asked Henrietta.
"All the work upon the paper, because Jenny Price is sick, and Mary
Carew is out of town. So pray be in time."
[Illustration]