"BREAD IN SECRET."
FOR some time after she came to Dorchester, Lolla's health continued
steadily to improve. She lost the heavy, languid look she had worn in
the morning, had a good appetite not only for her breakfast, but for
all her other meals, slept well, and ran about all day long as lively
as a kitten. She had an hour and a half of lessons in the morning,
which she said to Mr. Locke, and half an hour of sewing with Aunt
Delight after dinner; and the rest of the time she was encouraged to
play in the open air as much as she pleased. She found her way down
to the beach, where she was never weary of the marvel of seeing the
tide come in and go out. She learned the way to the few shops in the
neighbourhood, so that she could do errands; and—greatest pleasure of
all—she went several times to Savin Hill.
Savin Hill is like a large mountain seen through the wrong end of the
telescope. It has caves and precipices, rocks and cliffs, all made of a
stone which looks very much indeed like petrified plum-pudding. There
are evergreen trees called savin, Virginia creepers, and a slender,
thorny vine with glossy leaves, very pretty to look at and very
impossible to get through.
Savin Hill runs out into the bay, and commands on all sides a beautiful
view of the bay and shipping, South Boston, the Blue Hills, and the
villages round about. I have spent many pleasant hours upon the little
mountain, watching the ships and boats, the clouds and hills, and
waiting till dark to see the revolving light in the far-off lighthouse
flash out and fade as regularly as the pendulum of a clock.
Two or three times Aunt Delight and Mr. Locke had gone up on Savin Hill
with Lolla and Philly and had a little picnic. The two elders would
sit on the rocks in the shade or the sunshine, as the day happened to
be cool or warm, and read or talked while the little girls played with
their dolls and made playhouses.
Philly was a grand playmate. She was four years older than Lolla, but
she was always ready to do any thing Lolla wanted of her,—to dress the
doll, jump the rope, tell stories; or "make-believe" to any extent.
Aunt Delight did not think it would do Lolla any harm to play with her.
She had watched Philly for some months, and she saw that the child was
really trying to improve,—that she had learned to have a sense of duty
which made her careful to be good out of sight and alone as well as
before other people. Since the affair of the spoon and the plums she
had taken special pains to observe her, and she became convinced that
whoever was to blame for the spilt syrup and crumbled cake, Philly was
not. She was not so sure about some one else, but she kept her own
counsel; for Aunt Delight was one of the people who could think of
things and not talk about them,—a talent more rare than many persons
suppose, and one we would advise our young readers to cultivate.
By-and-by, however, Lolla's head began to ache once more, and again
she had no appetite for her meals. She declared it was because Mr.
Locke made her learn the multiplication-table; but Aunt Delight
was of a different opinion. She had taught many little girls the
multiplication-table without doing them any harm; and she had seen
many more headaches come from improper eating and exposure than from
lessons; and she came to the conclusion that Lolla was indulging in
something which she ought not to have. She watched her closely, but
quietly, and by-and-by she found out the truth, as you will see.
Lolla had brought some money from home. Her father had been in the
habit of giving her all his new three-cent and five-cent pieces to
put in her little money-box, and these had amounted to a considerable
sum; and, besides, she possessed other money, which had been given
her from time to time by her uncles and cousins. She had very little
temptation to spend at home, for she lived some distance from town, and
she had all the sweet things she could eat, without buying them. She
brought her money with her to Boston, intending to purchase some pretty
thing that she fancied; but it all seemed likely to go in another
direction. Lolla discovered that she could buy cakes and gingersnaps
at the baker's, and candy and chocolate at the other shops; and she
now kept on hand a constant supply of these articles, which she was
munching at every opportunity when she could do so unobserved. Now,
when a little girl eats two large ginger-cakes, a stick of chocolate,
and a dozen or so of lemon-drops after she goes to bed at night, it is
hardly necessary to blame the multiplication-table if she rises with a
headache in the morning.
Lolla hid away her store of dainties in two or three different
places,—in one of the great covered vases in the hall, in the back
part of a cupboard where she kept her shoes, and in the pockets of her
dress. Something told her all the time that she was growing mean and
deceitful and sly, and more and more fond of eating,—more like a little
pig; but she persuaded herself that she could not help it, and that it
was her aunt's fault in not giving her all she wanted.
"Won't you ever tell as long as you live and breathe?" said she to
Philly, one day, as they were playing in the lower part of the garden.
"No," said Philly, without thinking. "Tell what?"
"If I give you something," said Lolla, putting her hand in her pocket
and pulling out two or three large lumps of sugar.
"Oh, Lolla, you shouldn't eat hard sugar," said Philly. "I heard Miss
Delight tell you it was bad for your teeth. Where did you get it?"
"That is my business, and not yours," replied Lolla, pertly. "Aunt
Delight is as full of notions as she can be. Lizzy Mercer said she knew
she would be, because she is an old maid. I hope I shall never be an
old maid."
"Oh, Lolla! How can you say so?" exclaimed Philly. "I think she is as
good as she can be. I am sure she is just like a mother to you."
"She is not a bit like 'my' mother, I can tell you," said Lolla.
"Mother always let me have all the cake I wanted."
"Well, you know yourself it wasn't good for you," returned Philly.
"Just see how much better you are than when you first came here."
"I am 'not' better," said Lolla, pettishly. "My head aches all the
time, lately. I know it is all that hateful arithmetic; but Aunt
Delight won't believe me."
"I guess it is the sweet stuff you eat," said Philly. "I am sure your
aunt would not like it if she knew how you bought candy all the time."
"You had better run and tell her," said Lolla, angrily. "I wish you
would just mind your own business. I didn't come down here to be
ordered about by a nigger."
Lolla knew very well, when she used the ugly word, that nothing
made Philly so angry or hurt her feelings so much as being called a
"nigger." She thought Philly would fly into a passion, and that then
she could tease her till she made her cry. She had done so before when
they quarrelled, and, somehow, found a great pleasure in seeing Philly
angry. This time, however, she did not succeed in her object. She
was very much hurt, and her dark eyes snapped for a moment; but she
restrained herself, and merely said,—
"I shall not play with you if you talk that way." She turned and went
into the house.
"Just like you," Lolla called after her. "Now go and sulk up in your
room all the afternoon."
Philly did not answer, and Lolla began to consider whether she had been
very wise in provoking one who could betray her secret. There was no
help for it now, however; and she determined to make it up with Philly,
and to be more careful in future.
Philly was deeply hurt, for she was fond of Lolla, but she was very
much troubled besides. She was pretty sure that the lumps of sugar came
out of Miss Delight's pantry, and she was very much afraid that if they
were missed she should be accused of taking them. The matter of the
spoon had never been cleared up, and she feared if any more suspicion
fell on her, Miss Delight would send her away. Think as she would, she
could see no way out of her trouble. She could not make up her mind to
tell Miss Delight or Sarah what had passed. She could not feel that it
would be right, and, besides, she argued, "as like as not Miss Delight
wouldn't believe me. She would naturally take part with her own niece,
and Sarah thinks Lolla is perfect. Oh, dear! I thought when I got here,
there would not be any more trouble; but seems to me there is trouble
everywhere."
Philly was right. There is trouble everywhere in this world. Happily,
however, the Refuge from trouble is everywhere as well.
"Sarah," said Philly, as they were drinking their tea that afternoon,
"why doesn't Miss Delight keep things locked up, as my old missus used
to do down in Georgia?"
"Why should she?" asked Sarah. "There is nobody to meddle with things
but you and me; and we don't either of us mean to rob her, do we?"
Philly felt that it was kind in Sarah to include her in this question.
"I'm sure I don't," said she.
"Well, Philly, I don't believe you do," said Sarah. "I had my doubts
of you a little while ago about those plums; but I have got eyes in my
head. I have watched you, and I don't believe you meddle with things
any more; though you know, Philly, you did when you first came here."
"Yes, I know; but I didn't know any better then. I do try to be a good
girl, Sarah."
"Yes, I see you do; and I must say you make out better than some folks
who have had more advantages. But you mustn't be proud of it, child: if
you are, the first you know you will be doing something bad again."
"It was queer, though, about that spoon: wasn't it?" said Philly,
emboldened by Sarah's kindness. "You know, Sarah, a mouse wouldn't take
a spoon; if he wanted the plums ever so much."
"A mouse wouldn't do a good many things," said Sarah. "A mouse wouldn't
leave the cover off the sugar-bowl and take out all the largest lumps.
A mouse isn't apt to open cupboard-doors and leave them ajar. But
we shall see. Every thing comes to the light some day. Come, hurry
and wash up your dishes; and, if you are real smart, I will ask Miss
Delight to let you go with me into Boston to-morrow."
Philly hastened to obey, feeling very much comforted at finding that
she had made a friend of Sarah, who had begun by disliking her so
greatly.
"I know what I know," said Sarah to herself; "and Miss Delight
shall know it too, if she has not penetration to find it out for
herself,—which I guess she has."