JOHN HENRY'S BAIRN.
I have read the story of a fairy who came down into a dark and dismal
room, where a poor girl clad in rags was cleaning the fireside, and who,
by one touch of her wand, changed everything in the room; the girl found
herself dressed in a beautiful robe, and everything around her was made
lovely and pleasant to look at. It was a new place altogether.
Now, I think that grandmother was something like that good fairy, for it
was perfectly wonderful what a change she made, in the course of a few
hours, in that dismal house. No sooner had she had a cup of tea, than
she took off her bonnet and shawl, and set to work to put things in
order. First, she gave the babies a warm bath, and cried over them, and
loved them to her heart's content; and then, as they had no clean
clothes to put on, she wrapped them in some of her own garments which
she took from her bundle, and, soothed by the unusual comfort and
cleanliness, Enoch and Elijah were soon fast asleep.
Then grandmother trotted downstairs again for more hot water, and washed
Poppy's poor sick mother, and brushed her tangled hair, and then dressed
her in one of her own clean night-gowns, smelling of the sweet field of
clover in which it had been dried, and put on the bed a pair of her own
sheets, which she had brought with her in case they might be useful.
Oh, how grateful Poppy's mother was!
'Granny,' she said, as she gave her a kiss, 'I haven't been so
comfortable never since I was ill; I declare I feel quite sleepy.'
'Well, go to sleep, my lass,' said grandmother; 'that's the very best
thing you can do.' So she laid the babies beside their mother in bed,
and she and Poppy went downstairs.
'Now, my little lass,' said the old woman, 'you and me will soon tidy
things up here.'
It was wonderful to Poppy to see how quickly her grandmother could work.
She was a brisk, active old woman, and in a very short time all the
cups, and saucers, and plates were washed and put by, the fireside was
swept, and the kitchen table was scoured. Then, leaving Poppy to wash
the floor, her grandmother carried off the heap of dirty clothes lying
in the corner into the tiny back kitchen, and, long before Poppy's
mother or the babies woke, there were two lines of little garments hung
out to be quickly dried in the scorching afternoon sun.
'And now, Poppy,' said grandmother, 'fetch my basket, my good little
lass, and we'll unpack it.'
Oh, what a basket that was! Poppy's eyes opened wide with astonishment
when she saw all that it contained. There was a whole pound of fresh
country butter, a loaf of grandmother's own home-made bread, a plum
cake she had made on purpose for Poppy, a jar of honey made by
grandmother's bees, and a box of fresh eggs laid by grandmother's hens,
a bottle of thick yellow cream, and, what Poppy liked best of all, a
bunch of roses, and southernwood and pansies, and lavender from
grandmother's garden.
It was very pleasant to get tea ready, when there were so many good
things to put on the table, and it was still more pleasant when Poppy's
mother woke, to take her a cup of tea with the good country cream in it,
and to watch how she enjoyed some thin slices of grandmother's bread and
butter, and a fresh egg laid that morning by 'little Jenny, the bonniest
hen of the lot.'
'Now, Poppy,' said grandmother, when tea was over, 'you get on your hat,
and go out a bit. You're a good little lass if ever there was one--bless
you, my darling, my own John Henry's bairn! But you want a bit of rest
and play, you do indeed.'
'Yes, that she does,' said her mother. 'Why, it's weeks since she got
out for a walk--not since I was in bed, bless her!'
So Poppy put on her hat and went out. It was a lovely summer's evening;
the great heat of the day was over, and a gentle breeze was blowing,
which was very cooling and refreshing to the tired little girl. She went
slowly past the great cathedral, and she thought how beautiful it
looked, standing out against the quiet evening sky. Then she climbed up
a flight of stone steep, and these took her to the top of the old wall,
which went all round that ancient city.
And now Poppy had a beautiful view, over the tops of the chimneys, and
across the black smoky courts, to where the green fields were lying in
the evening sunshine, and the river was lighted up by the rays of the
setting sun. And there on the top of the old city wall, in a quiet
little corner where no one could see her, Poppy knelt down, and thanked
God for hearing her prayer, and for sending grandmother to help her. On
her way home she met Jack coming to meet her. 'Poppy,' he said, 'I've
got a present for you.'
He put his hand under his thick fustian jacket and pulled out something
tied up tightly in a red cotton pocket-handkerchief.
'Come and sit on this doorstep, Poppy,' he said, 'and look what it is.'
It was a large green apple.
'Why, Jack,' said Poppy, 'where did you get it? It's a funny time of
year to get an apple; I didn't know there was any left.'
'No, it's a real curiosity,' said Jack, 'and I said to myself when I got
it, "Poppy shall have that big 'un; she was such a plucky girl that
night in the tower--she never whimpered nor nothing." So I tied him up
in that handkercher, and there he is.'
'Thank you so much, dear Jack,' said Poppy gratefully. 'But however did
you get it?'
'Why it was old Sellers, the greengrocer, gave him to me,' said
Jack,--'him as has a shop in Newcastle Street; he called me in and he
says, "Do you want a job, my lad?" and when I told him "Yes, I do," he
set me to clean out his apple-room, where he stores his apples in
winter. So he took me in, and it _was_ a sight--such a sight as _you_
never saw, Poppy! Scores of 'em all rotten and smelling. Ay, they _were_
horrid!' said Jack, making a face, 'all but half a dozen that were quite
good. Well, I picked 'em out, Poppy, and took 'em to old Sellers, and he
gave me half of 'em: so I ate one myself, and I gave one to Sally, and I
kept the biggest of 'em all for you.'
'It _was_ good of you, Jack,' said Poppy.
'Well, eat it then,' said the boy--'they're very nice--as good as can
be,' and he smacked his lips at the recollection.
But Poppy had rolled her apple up in her pinafore, and did not seem
inclined to begin to eat it.
'Whatever are you keeping it for?' said Jack, in rather a disappointed
voice.
'Jack,' said Poppy, stopping short, and looking up in his face, 'is it
for my very own?'
'Why, yes, Poppy--of course.'
'To do just whatever I like with it?'
'Why, yes, of course,' said Jack again.
'Then I shall give it to my grandmother,' said Poppy; 'she's come
to-day, and she's ever so good to us; and God sent her, and she's
cleaned the house beautiful. I shall give it to my grandmother, Jack.'
'All right,' he said; 'only I'd like you to have just one bite yourself,
Poppy, to see how good it is.'
He was quite satisfied when Poppy promised to ask her grandmother to
give her the last bite; and the little girl hastened home, feeling very
happy, and picturing out to herself what a great treat that big apple
would be to the old woman.
'Here,' she said, holding it out to her, 'it's all for you,
grandmother--only Jack wants me _just_ to have the last bite.'
'All for me,' repeated the old woman, as she looked up from the work she
had in her hand--a little old torn frock of Poppy's, which she was
mending.
'Yes,' said the child, 'all for you.'
'Well, it's a beauty, I'm sure!' said grandmother, turning it over in
her hand; 'but you see, my dear, many's the long day since I've eat an
apple. Why, my little lass, what can an old body with only two teeth
do?'
'Do try, granny,' said Poppy, holding the apple to her mouth; 'it isn't
so very hard, and Jack says it's _so_ good. Do try!'