"You were not here yesterday," said the gentle teacher of the little
village school, as she placed her hand kindly on the curly head of one
of her pupils. It was recess time, but the little girl addressed had
not gone to frolic away the ten minutes, not even left her seat, but
sat absorbed in what seemed a fruitless attempt to make herself
mistress of an example in long division.
Her face and neck crimsoned at the remark of her teacher, but looking
up, she seemed somewhat reassured by the kind glance that met her, and
answered, "No, ma'am, I was not, but sister Nellie was."
"I remember there was a little girl who called herself Nellie Gray,
came in yesterday, but I did not know she was your sister. But why did
you not come? You seem to like to study very much."
"It was not because I didn't want to," was the earnest answer, and
then she paused and the deep flush again tinged her fair brow; "but,"
she continued after a moment of painful embarrassment, "mother cannot
spare both of us conveniently, and so we are going to take turns. I'm
going to school one day, and sister the next, and to-night I'm to
teach Nellie all I have learned to-day, and to-morrow night she will
teach me all that she learns while here. It's the only way we can
think of getting along, and we want to study very much, so as to
sometime keep school ourselves, and take care of mother, because she
has to work very hard to take care of us."
With genuine delicacy Miss M---- forbore to question the child
further, but sat down beside her, and in a moment explained the rule
over which she was puzzling her young brain, so that the hard example
was easily finished.
"You had better go out and take the air a few moments, you have
studied very hard to-day," said the teacher, as the little girl put
aside the slate.
"I had rather not--I might tear my dress--I will stand by the window
and watch the rest."
There was such a peculiar tone in the voice of her pupil as she said,
"I might tear my dress," that the teacher was led instinctively to
notice it. It was nothing but a nine-penny print of a deep hue, but it
was neatly made and had never been washed. And while looking at it,
she remembered that during the whole previous fortnight Mary Gray had
attended school regularly, she had never seen her wear but that one
dress. "She is a thoughtful little girl," said she to herself, "and
does not want to make her mother any trouble. I wish I had more such
scholars."
The next morning Mary was absent, but her sister occupied her seat.
There was something so interesting in the two little sisters, the one
eleven, and the other eighteen months younger, agreeing to attend
school by turns, that Miss M---- could not forbear observing them
very closely. They were pretty faced children, of delicate forms, the
elder with dark eyes and chestnut curls, the other with orbs like the
sky of June, her white neck veiled by a wealth of golden ringlets. She
observed in both, the same close attention to their studies, and as
Mary tarried within during the play time, so did Nellie; and upon
speaking to her as she had to her sister, she received the same
answer, "I might tear my dress."
The reply caused Miss M---- to notice the garb of her sister. She
saw at once that it was of the same piece as Mary's, and upon
scrutinizing it very closely, she became certain that it was the same
dress. It did not fit quite so nicely on Nellie, and was too long for
her, and she was evidently ill at ease when she noticed her teacher
looking at the bright pink flowers that were so thickly set on the
white ground.
The discovery was one that could not but interest a heart so
benevolent as that which pulsated in the bosom of that village
school-teacher. She ascertained the residence of their mother, and
though sorely shortened herself by a narrow purse, that same night,
having found at the only store in the place a few yards of the same
material, purchased a dress for little Nellie, and made arrangements
with the merchant to send it to her in such a way that the donor could
not be detected.
Very bright and happy looked Mary Gray on Friday morning, as she
entered the school at an early hour. She waited only to place her
books in neat order in her desk, ere she approached the teacher, and
whispering in a voice that laughed in spite of her efforts to make it
low and deferential--"After this week sister Nellie is coming to
school every day, and oh, I am so glad!"
"That is very good news," replied the teacher kindly. "Nellie is fond
of her books, I see, and I am happy to know that she can have an
opportunity to study them every day." Then she continued, a little
good-natured mischief encircling her eyes and dimpling her sweet
lips--"But can your mother spare you both conveniently?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am, yes, ma'am, she can now. Something happened that she
didn't expect, and she is as glad to have us come as we are to do so."
She hesitated a moment, but her young heart was filled to the brim
with joy, and when a child is happy it is as natural to tell the cause
as it is for a bird to warble when the sun shines. So out of the
fullness of her heart she spoke and told her teacher this little
story.
She and her sister were the only children of a very poor widow, whose
health was so delicate that it was almost impossible to support
herself and daughters. She was obliged to keep them out of school all
winter, as they had no suitable clothes to wear, but she told them
that if they could earn enough by doing odd chores for the neighbors
to buy each of them a new dress, they might go in the spring. Very
earnestly had the little girls improved their stray chances, and very
carefully hoarded the copper coins which usually repaid them. They had
nearly saved enough to buy a dress, when Nellie was taken sick, and as
the mother had no money beforehand, her own treasure had to be
expended.
"Oh, I did feel so bad when school opened and Nellie could not go,
because she had no dress," said Mary. "I told mother I wouldn't go
either, but she said I had better, for I could teach sister some, and
it would be better than no schooling. I stood it for a fortnight, but
Nellie's little face seemed all the time looking at me on the way to
school, and I couldn't be happy a bit, so I finally thought of a way
by which we could both go, and I told mother I would come one day, and
the next I would lend Nellie my dress and she might come, and that's
the way we have done this week. But last night, don't you think,
somebody sent sister a dress just like mine, and now she can come too.
Oh, if I only knew who it was, I would get down on my knees and thank
them, and so would Nellie. But we don't know, and so we've done all we
could for them--we've prayed for them--and oh, Miss M----, we are
all so glad now. Aint you too?"
"Indeed I am," was the emphatic answer. And when on the following
Monday, little Nellie, in the new pink dress, entered the schoolroom,
her face radiant as a rose in sunshine, and approaching the teacher's
table, exclaimed, in tones as musical as those of a freed fountain, "I
am coming to school every day, and oh, I am so glad!" The teacher felt
as she had never done before, that it is more blessed to give than to
receive. No millionaire, when he saw his name in public prints, lauded
for his thousand-dollar charities, was ever so happy as the poor
school-teacher who wore her gloves half a summer longer than she
ought, and thereby saved enough to buy that little fatherless girl a
calico dress.