that pain, and 'cause you don't have any one to love you, and take
care of you, and teach you. Wouldn't you let me be a little kind to
you?"
"If you're so sorry, give me another of them," said Dolly again,
looking at the bananas with a greedy eye. She had never tasted any
thing so delicious in her life, and the one which Bessie had given
only made her more anxious for a second.
Bessie gave a little sigh.
"I would if they were mine," she said; "but they are not, and so I
cannot give them to you."
"Be off then. You're glad I ache so; I know you are 'cause I plagued
you so."
Starr's patience was at an end; and, lifting his little charge in his
arms, he plunged through the opening in the bushes.
"Miss Bessie," he said, "you ought to let that girl alone; she's not
fit for you to care for, and it's all kindness thrown away."
Bessie looked very grave and thoughtful.
"Starr," she said, presently, "if she is fit for Jesus to care for,
she must be fit for us to care for."
Starr was silenced: he had not another word to say.
When Bessie reached her playfellows, the fire was burning famously;
but they had waited to husk the corn till she should come to have her
share in that pleasure.
"But where is your banana?" asked Maggie, when her sister divided the
Colonel's gift.
"It is gone," answered Bessie.
"Oh!" said Maggie, "why, didn't you wait to eat it with the rest of
us? But never mind, you shall have half of mine."
"Let's husk the corn now," said Harry; "we'll have the bananas by and
by."
The ears were soon stripped of their green dress and silken tassels,
and laid round the fire to roast. Then Bessie told Maggie she wanted
to tell her a secret, and drew her a little aside from the others.
"Maggie," she said, "I did not eat my banana; I gave it away."
"Did you?" said Maggie. "That was very good of you, 'cause you're so
fond of them. Who did you give it to?"
"To Dolly," answered Bessie.
"To Dolly! that bad thing!" exclaimed Maggie; "where _did_ you see
her?"
Bessie told how she and Starr had found Dolly, and of what had passed,
ending with,--
"I would have given her another banana if any of them had been mine,
Maggie; and I thought you would have given her yours too, to show her
you wanted to be kind to her, if you only knew about it."
"So I would," said Maggie, "and I wouldn't have cared if you had given
it to her. I will let you do just what you choose with any thing of
mine, Bessie, and not be a bit provoked."
"But it was not mine, you see," said Bessie, "and I didn't think it
would be right when you did not tell me to."
"I'd give it to her now, if I was to see her," said Maggie; "but then
we couldn't go and find her, you know. She might do something to us."
"I don't think she could very well," said Bessie. "It hurts her so to
move; and her speaking sounds like mine when I have the croup. Starr
said he thought she looked very sick. She's just over behind those
bushes, and some one could go and take care of us. I think she would
be sure we are sorry for her if we took it to her. Shall we ask papa
about it?"
Maggie agreed, and papa was called and told the whole story, and of
their wish to take the second banana to Dolly.
He thought it over for a moment or two, and then said he would let
them take it, and would go with them to see that no harm befell them
at Dolly's hands.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XI.
"_GOOD FOR EVIL._"
DOLLY was found lying in the same spot, and almost in the same
position, in which Bessie and Starr had left her; but now she was half
asleep.
Thinking she might receive the children's kindness in a better spirit,
if there was no older person to look on, Mr. Bradford helped his
little daughters through the screening bushes, and then drew back a
few steps where he might still watch them, and hear all that passed,
but where Dolly could not see him.
At the rustling of the children's footsteps upon the dry leaves and
branches, Dolly started and opened her heavy eyes, to see Maggie and
Bessie standing hand in hand before her. The old, fierce, defiant
look flashed into them for one moment, then died out again before
timid Maggie had time to start back and draw her sister with her.
"My Maggie came to bring you her banana," said Bessie, gently. "_I_
couldn't give it to you, 'cause it was not mine; but when I told her
you didn't have any thing to eat for 'most two days, she was sorry for
you, and said you should have it."
"It's good. I like it," said Dolly, as Maggie, summoning all her
courage, stepped slowly towards her and gave her the banana.
"Dolly," said Bessie, "will you believe now that we are sorry for you,
and want to be kind to you?"
"I s'pose so," answered Dolly, gruffly, as if she were still half
unwilling or unable to believe that they meant what they said.
They stood in silence, watching the half-famished creature as she eat
her fruit, then Bessie said,--
"Dolly, why don't you go home?"
"No, I shan't neither, I aint goin' to stir," she answered
snappishly, with one quick, suspicious glance at the children, and
another towards the trunk of the old tree against which she leaned.
"I've got a right here, if I've a mind to stay. 'Taint your ground nor
Porter's neither."
"Oh, no!" said Bessie, "I did not mean that, only you have such a bad
cold, and it hurts you so to move, and these rocks are so hard, I
should think you'd be more comfortable in your bed at home."
"Guess my home's a sight more comfortable than these rocks, aint it?"
said Dolly, with a grin. "One's about as good as t'other."
"Poor Dolly!" said Bessie, "I wish you had a better home, and some one
to care for you and Lem."
"What for? I s'pose you think I wouldn't bother you then."
"I hope you wouldn't," said Bessie; "but I was not thinking about
that. It was only 'cause I am so sorry that you don't have a nice home
and plenty to eat, and people to love you. But, Dolly, you know Jesus
loves you."
"No, he don't neither," was the answer.
"But he does, indeed he does," said Bessie, earnestly; "he loves you
all the time, and it makes him sorry when you are naughty; but if you
won't do so any more, but will try to love him, he will be glad, and
then you will be his own little child, 'cause he says, 'Suffer little
children to come unto me,' and he means all children. Mrs. Rush taught
us that one Sunday."
"I say," said Dolly, "I could ha' plagued you last Sunday if I'd had a
mind to. The old dog wasn't there."
"No: Buffer was sick last Sunday afternoon," answered Bessie. "Did you
come by our Sunday bower?"
"I came by the place where you go of Sundays," said Dolly; "but I
didn't do nothin', 'cause I had a mind to hear you singin'. It sounded
nice: I liked it."
"Will you come next Sunday?" said Bessie, eager for the slightest
chance of doing Dolly good. "Mrs. Rush and the Colonel would let you,
I am sure; and they'll tell you about Jesus a great deal better than
I can, and how he loves you, and will take you to heaven, if you will
only be a good girl and love him. Wouldn't you like to hear about it?"
"Dunno," said Dolly; "I like to hear you sing. Jesus is God, aint he?"
"Yes," said Bessie, coming closer to the poor girl, and drawing Maggie
with her. "He is God's Son, and he came away from his heaven to die
for us, so we could go there, and live with him, if we would only love
him and do what he tells us. And heaven is such a beautiful place!
Dolly, the angels are there; and every one will be so happy; and no
one will be hungry or sick or tired there; and Jesus will take care of
us always, always. Wouldn't you like to go there, Dolly?"
"I'd like to go somewhere," said Dolly wearily; "I'm about tired of
this. I'd like not to be hungry, nor to have this pain no more. But
'taint likely your Jesus wants me in his beautiful place. I s'pose he
wants clean folks with nice clothes, not old dirty rags like mine."
Maggie was beginning to feel braver as she saw that Dolly was quiet
and not in a mood for mischief, and now she spoke.
"Jesus won't mind about rags if you only have a heart that loves him,"
she said. "He loves you just as much in your rags, as he loves some
other little girl who is dressed nicely."
"How do you know he loves me?" asked Dolly.
"'Cause the Bible says so," said Maggie; "so it must be true, 'cause
the Bible is God's word. And besides, Dolly, if Jesus came to die for
you, so you could go to heaven, don't you think he must love you? When
a person does a very kind thing for you, don't that make you think
they love you?"
"Did you give me them goodies 'cause you loved me?" said Dolly.
Maggie was rather disturbed at this question, and did not know how to
answer it; but Bessie, seeing her trouble, spoke for her.
"Why, no, Dolly," she said, "I'm 'fraid we don't love you very much;
you know you couldn't 'spect us to: but we wanted to be kind to you,
and to make you know we wanted to forgive you for troubling us so."
"You _was_ real good to give me them things," said Dolly; "they was
first rate. And you was good to get Lem let out too; he told me. But I
say,"--and Dolly really looked half ashamed,--"'twant him did that."
Bessie thought she was speaking of the cup.
"I don't believe very much that he did," she said. "Mr. Porter thinks
maybe the pedler-man took it, 'cause he went to Farmer Todd's house,
and after he was gone some spoons were lost; and they think he stole
them, so maybe he has my cup too."
"I didn't mean that," answered Dolly, slowly. "I meant 'twant Lem
spiled your gardens, but--I _am_ sorry I done it--there now. And Lem
aint got your cup; you can just know it."
"We try to believe he didn't," said Bessie. Then she added, with a
quiver of her lip and a tear or two gathering in her eyes, "I don't
think _any one_ could have taken it if they had known how very fond I
was of it. You see, Dolly, I had that cup a great, great many years,
ever since I was a little baby; and I always had my drink out of it,
so you see we grew up together, and I don't know how I can bear never
to see it again. I was pretty much troubled to lose my cup and my
garden too."
Dolly looked uneasily at her, moved restlessly on her hard bed, and
sank back again with another moan.
"I guess we'll have to go now," said Maggie.
"Will you come next Sunday and hear Mrs. Rush tell about Jesus and how
he loved you?" said Bessie. "Or papa and mamma would tell you about it
if you liked. They can do it a great deal better than we can."
"No," said Dolly, "I don't want to hear big folks. I don't mind your
speaking to me if you choose. But, I say, don't you never sing but on
Sundays?"
"Oh, yes!" said Bessie, "we sing every day and sometimes a good many
times in the day."
"I like music," said Dolly. "Lem whistles fustrate."
"Yes, we know it," said Maggie. "Once we heard him when we couldn't
see him, and we asked Mr. Porter who it was, and he told us it was
Lem; and we listened as long as we could hear him: it sounded so sweet
and clear. I never heard any one whistle like that."
"Yes," said Dolly, looking pleased; "nobody can beat _him_ at that.
S'pose you couldn't sing me a tune 'fore you go, could you? It's so
lonesome, lying here."
"Why, yes: we will if you want us to," Bessie answered readily, though
she as well as Maggie was much surprised at the request. "We'll sing,
'I want to be an angel.'"
So they stood, these two "ministering children," and sang; their
young voices rising sweet and clear amid the solemn stillness of the
grand old woods; for very still it was. As the first notes arose, the
friends whom they had left, hushed laughter and merry talk that they
might not lose one of the sweet sounds. They only knew that Maggie
and Bessie had wandered off with papa, and thought this was meant as a
pleasant surprise for them.
But it was a higher, greater Friend,--a "Friend above all
others,"--whom our little jewel-seekers were just then trying to
please; and, although they might not know it, they had that day taken
up the first link of the golden chain, by which poor Dolly's soul was
to be drawn out of the clouds and darkness in which it had lain, up
into the light and sunshine of his glorious presence. A very slight
and fragile link it might seem, but it was doubtless very precious in
the eyes of the heavenly Father, whose hands could make it strong and
lasting, and fit to shine before him in the "day when he shall make up
his jewels."
Very precious it was, too, in the eyes of the earthly father, who
watched the scene, and looking from his own tenderly cared for,
daintily dressed darlings, to the forlorn, ragged outcast, thanked God
that for all three alike had the blessed words been spoken, "Suffer
little children to come unto me."
"Is that place the song talks about that heaven you was telling
about?" asked Dolly when the children had finished "I want to be an
angel."
"Yes," said Bessie. "You do want to go there; don't you, Dolly?"
"'Taint no use wantin," said Dolly. "I'll never get there, nor Lem
neither. Sing some more."
"We'll sing 'Rest for the weary,' 'cause she said she was so tired,"
said Maggie.
When they were through, Mr. Bradford stepped from behind the bushes
which had hidden him until now.
Dolly started when she saw him, and the old look, half guilty, half
defiant, came back to her eyes. But she soon found she need not be
afraid; for, bending over her, he said, kindly,--
"My poor girl, you are in great pain, I fear. How did you hurt
yourself?"
"Didn't hurt myself," grumbled Dolly, still suspicious, and shrinking
from that grave, steady look.
"Then you are ill," said Mr. Bradford, noticing the burning cheeks and
heavy eyes, "you must not lie here, or you will be worse. Can you go
home?"
"I shan't go home," said Dolly, passionately, and with another quick
glance over her shoulder.
Mr. Bradford did not insist, though he meant she should obey him, but
said, kindly,--
"Are you still hungry? Would you like some roasted corn?"
Dolly muttered something which might be either no or yes, falling back
into her old sullenness; but Mr. Bradford answered as kindly as if she
had spoken pleasantly, and told her she should have some.
"Shall we bring it to her, papa?" asked Bessie.
Mr. Bradford said no; for he had been rather startled when he found
Dolly was ill, not hurt, as he had first supposed; and he was not
willing his little daughters should come near her again, till he was
sure what ailed her.
He told the children to bid Dolly good-by, which they did; the girl
replying in a more gentle tone than she had yet used, and then calling
Bessie back, saying, "Here, littlest one."
But when Bessie looked back to see what she wanted, she refused to
speak, and, shutting her eyes, turned her face away.
Mamma and grandmamma, Colonel and Mrs. Rush, had all arrived when our
little girls came back to the fire; and the corn was nicely roasted,
waiting to be eaten. So the merry, happy party gathered round to enjoy
it.
Dolly was not forgotten; for Maggie and Bessie picked out a couple of
nice, brown ears, and Starr was sent to carry them to her,--an errand
which he did not do very willingly. He came back, saying that he had
found her angry, and that she refused to touch or look at the corn.
When all had had enough, Mr. Bradford asked Mr. Stanton if he would
go with him and see the poor girl, and tell, if he could, what might
be done for her. Uncle Ruthven was not a doctor, but he knew a good
deal about medicine, and had often practised it in his travels when no
physician was at hand. He willingly agreed to see Dolly, and the two
gentlemen went off immediately.
As Mr. Bradford had expected, his brother-in-law pronounced Dolly to
be very sick. She would answer no questions, but it was easy to see
that she had a bad cold and a high fever, and that the pain, which
became so bad when she moved, was rheumatism. Mr. Stanton at once
said that she must no longer lie upon the hard, cold rock; she must
go home: but it seemed to be doubtful if she could walk. When the
gentlemen tried to raise her, they found this no longer doubtful, but
quite impossible: the girl's cramped limbs could not hold her up; she
could not stir one step. Perhaps she would not have gone had she been
able to do so, for she broke forth into angry cries and refusals to be
moved, which were only stopped by a violent fit of coughing.
These cries brought the Colonel, with Mrs. Stanton and Starr, to see
if they could be of any assistance; and Colonel Rush, finding there
was difficulty in moving Dolly, proposed that his camp chair should be
brought, and the sick girl carried home in that.
No sooner said than done. Starr was sent for the chair, and when it
was brought, Dolly was gently raised and placed in it. She would still
have resisted, but she saw that the gentlemen were determined, and it
was such agony to move that she thought it as well to submit. When she
was in the chair, Mr. Stanton and Starr raised it, and began to move
off.
"Wait a bit! wait a bit!" exclaimed Dolly.
"Well, what is it?" asked Mr. Stanton, kindly.
"S'pose I might as well tell," muttered Dolly, as if speaking to
herself; "he'll just come back and get it, and I'd liever she'd have
it. I say," she added, in a louder tone, "I want to speak to the
little gals' pa."
"Well?" said Mr. Bradford, coming nearer.
"You won't say Lem took it, will you?" asked Dolly.
"I would not say Lem took any thing unless I was quite sure of it,"
said the gentleman.
"Well, then, you just may be sure he didn't take it, and I didn't
neither; 'twas the pedler, and I seen where he put it. He didn't know
I was behind the bushes, but I seen him. That's why I stayed about, so
as to scare him off if he came; but Lem didn't know nothin' about it.
I guess I'll tell where he put it, 'cause the little gal was good to
me after I plagued her. Jes' you put your hand in that hole, and see
what you find;" and, with trembling fingers, she pointed to a hole in
the trunk of the old tree against which she had been leaning.
Mr. Bradford put his hand into the opening, and, after feeling about
a little, drew forth a bundle. Opening it, he found not only what he
had expected to see, Bessie's lost cup, but also Farmer Todd's silver
spoons, and one or two other small articles which he thought must have
been stolen. The finding of the spoons with the cup, made it almost
certain that Lem had not taken the latter; and Mr. Bradford was very
glad that he had not suffered appearances to make him judge the boy
too harshly.
And now Mr. Stanton and Starr moved on with the chair. They carried
it as steadily as possible, but the way was rough, and with all their
care every step gave great pain to Dolly. Mr. Bradford and Mrs.
Stanton followed to see what could be done to make the poor creature
comfortable. Comfortable! that seemed a hopeless task, indeed, when
they reached the wretched hovel and looked about them.
Dolly was laid upon the pile of leaves and rags which served for a
bed; and Mr. and Mrs. Stanton stayed with her while Mr. Bradford,
taking Starr with him, went back to beg from Mrs. Porter what was
needful for her.
[Illustration]
XII.
_UNCLE RUTHVEN'S WORK._
DOLLY, quite tired out with pain, had sunk into a restless sleep;
and Mr. and Mrs. Stanton were sitting on the rocks outside the door,
waiting till Mr. Bradford should return, when a sweet, clear whistle,
like a bird-call, rang through the wood. It was repeated again, and
yet again, and was plainly some signal. Each time it came nearer,
and at the third sounded close at hand; and the next instant Lem
sprang round a point of the rock. As he caught sight of the lady and
gentleman before the hovel door, he started, and, after staring at
them for one instant, turned to run away.
But Mr. Stanton's voice stopped him.
"Do not run off again," he said, kindly; "your sister is very sick,
and lying here in the house. Come and see her."
Lem stood a moment, half doubtful; then rushed past the gentleman
into the house. He came out again presently, his eyes wide open with
astonishment and alarm.
"What you been a doin' to her?" he said, fiercely.
"We found her lying upon the rocks, unable to move," said Mr. Stanton,
not heeding the angry tone, "and so brought her here in this chair. We
have sent to Mrs. Porter for some things to make a bed for her, but no
bed can be kept fit for her unless it is quite dry; and I fear this
roof of yours is not water-tight. I wonder if you and I could not make
it so. Do you know where you can buy some straw?"
"Know where there's plenty of straw for them as can pay for it,"
answered Lem.
"Oh, well," said Mr. Stanton, cheerfully, "you find the straw, and
I'll do the paying. There; bring as many bunches as they will give
you for that," and he put fifty cents into Lem's hand.
The boy gazed at the money open-mouthed,--probably he had never in
his life had so much, honestly come by, in his hands at once,--turned
it over, stared at Mr. Stanton, and then again at the money. That any
one should trust him with money, or with any thing that had the least
value, was something so new that he could scarcely believe his own
senses.
"They'll say I didn't come by it fair, and won't give me no straw," he
said at last, thrusting the money back upon Mr. Stanton.
The gentleman knew this was only too likely, and too well deserved;
and, taking a pencil and slip of paper from his pocket-book, he wrote
a few words, and handed the paper to Lem.
Lem could neither read nor write, but he was no fool; and he knew that
those few black marks would do more for him than any amount of talking
on his own part; but he was even yet a little suspicious. He stood
hesitating for a moment, looking back into the house, where his sister
lay moaning in her uneasy sleep, then darted away into the path which
led down the mountain.
"Do you think he is to be trusted, Ruthven?" said Mrs. Stanton. "Will
he come back?"
"I think so," replied her husband; "any way, I thought I would try it.
It may give me some hold upon him."
In less time than could have been thought possible by one who knew the
distance he had to go, Lem was back; but a good deal had been done in
the mean time. Mr. Bradford had returned with Starr and John Porter,
bringing a straw bed and pillow, a coarse but clean pair of sheets,
and a blanket. Good old Mrs. Porter came too, full of pity for the
forlorn, sick child, and carrying a kettle of tea, ready milked and
sugared.
The bed had been made,--upon the floor, to be sure: there was no other
place to put it,--Dolly had been given some medicine, her fevered
face and hands washed, and she laid in the bed. A fire had been
kindled without, and the tea warmed afresh; and when Lem came back
with the straw, Mrs. Porter was just offering Dolly a drink. She took
it eagerly; but, although she knew Lem, she would not speak to him,
and soon sank again into an uneasy sleep or stupor. Lem had brought
six bundles of straw; and, throwing them down, he handed Mr. Stanton
some change, saying the man from whom he had bought them could let him
have no more, and had given him back that money.
Mr. Stanton privately asked John Porter how much the straw should have
cost, and found that Lem had brought him the right change. So here was
something gained: the boy had been true to his trust for once.
"Now we will go to work," said Mr. Stanton to Lem; and he told him to
follow him deeper into the woods, where he soon cut down a dozen or so
of tall, slender saplings, and bade Lem strip them of their leaves
and branches.
When these were finished, some long strips of birch bark were cut
by Mr. Stanton, while Lem stood looking on, and wondering if it
were possible the gentleman could be taking so much trouble for him
and Dolly, and what in the world he could be going to do with those
things. That was soon seen. When all had been made ready and carried
to the hut, Mr. Stanton made Lem climb upon the low roof, and,
directing him how to lay the straw so as to cover the worst part,
bound it in its place with the saplings, and tied them down with the
strips of birch. Lem wondered and admired as the strong, firm fingers
twisted and knotted, making all close and tight, and at last broke out
with,--
"I say, mister, was you brought up to roof-mending?"
"Not exactly," replied Mr. Stanton, with a smile; "but I have had to
contrive many a strange roof for myself and others. What should you
say to a roof made of a single leaf, large enough to shelter twelve
men from a scorching sun? Or to one of snow; ay, to roof, walls,
floor, all of snow,--making a warm, comfortable home too?"
"Are you the fellow they tell about that's hunted lions and tigers and
wild beasts?" asked Lem, gazing with new interest at the gentleman.
"I am the man," said Mr. Stanton.
"And never got ate up?" questioned Lem, eagerly.
"I am here to answer for that, though I have been pretty near it once
or twice. Should you like to hear some of my adventures some time?"