THE BEGINNING.
Monday morning was cloudy. Flora felt gloomy and dispirited, and
notwithstanding her good resolutions, not in a mood to make any extra
exertion.
Mr. Hazeley had gone to his work, Harry and Alec to school, and the
mother was in bed with a sick headache. Flora was lonely. There was much
to be done, she realized, but just where to begin she did not know.
There was no one to tell her what to do, and everything looked very dark
to her on this Monday morning.
The dishes were nicely washed, and carefully put away. The little dining
room had been swept and dusted, and looked somewhat more inviting. The
window where the sweet potato, the last link binding her with the past
at Brinton, stood, had been washed until the glass fairly shone, and now
she stood gazing listlessly out into the street.
Presently she saw Ruth, on her way home from market. When in front of
the house, Ruth looked up, and saw Flora's woe-begone face at the
window. She stopped, and gave her a smiling little nod. Flora's
countenance brightened immediately, and she hastened to meet her.
"You look lonely, this morning," was Ruth's greeting.
"Indeed, I feel so," admitted Flora.
"If you are not busy come home with me for a while."
"I should like nothing better," cried Flora. "Just wait until I tell
mother."
In a moment she was back, and the two walked on, Flora insisting on
helping Ruth with her market-basket.
Jem met them at the door of the tiny house, and conducted them in with
great dignity. Flora was delighted with everything.
"What a dear little house," she exclaimed, glancing about her
admiringly.
"I am glad you like it," said Ruth, looking pleased.
"And what a dear, little, old-fashioned housekeeper you make!"
"Do you really think so?"
"Of course I do," said Flora, heartily. "Ruth, dear," she continued,
abruptly changing the subject, "I want a talk with you."
"I shall be so glad to have you," said Ruth, seating herself, with a
pan of apples in her lap. "Sit down beside me, and you can talk while I
pare these apples."
"I will help," replied Flora. "Run, Jem dear, and get another knife for
me, like a good girl."
Jem obeyed, and soon returning, brought with her a box filled with bits
of calicoes, and various odds and ends, seated herself also, and
proceeded to fashion what she was pleased to call "doll's clothes."
"Ruth," began Flora, after they were all settled and busy, "I like you
ever so much, and I hope we always will be friends. You seem to know so
much, and you have had so much experience, that I am sure you can help
me a great deal, if you will."
"Of course, dear," was her gentle reply, "I would be glad to help you
all I can, and I shall be as pleased as possible for us to be friends.
As to my knowing much, you are mistaken; I know but very little of
anything; and experience,--well, I have had some, I suppose; but then,
it isn't the sort that would help you, I am afraid. However, I shall be
glad to do anything I can for you."
"I am sure you can help me, Ruth. You have helped me already," said
Flora, decidedly. "And I mean to do as you suggested, and try to make my
home just what I would like to have it. I don't know how to begin
exactly; and then, mother never seems to care how things go, and that
makes me feel as if I did not care either."
"I don't like to hear you talk about your mother so, Flora dear," said
Roth, in a troubled tone.
"How are you to help me, if I don't tell you just what I think and
feel?"
"Perhaps, if you were to let your mother see and know that you wanted to
help her, and make things bright, and talk with her----"
"Talk!" interrupted Flora; "I don't believe she would do it, even if I
were to try."
"Oh, but _have_ you tried yet?" asked Ruth, looking up archly. "You
cannot tell until you do."
"Very well," said Flora, laughing, "I guess I shall try. But there is
another thing," and the troubled look returned to her face. "It is about
the boys, my brothers. They stay at home scarcely ever. I don't know
where they go so often, and I am sure mother does not, and I don't
believe she cares--you need not look grave again, Ruth--I don't. Harry
and Alec seem to be good boys, and it is a pity they are not restrained.
They may get into bad company--if they are not in it already--and do
something dreadful, and bring disgrace on us all. What can I do about
that?"
"It would take a wiser head than mine to tell you that," Ruth answered;
"but you might try and see if you could not make it so pleasant at home
they would not care to be away so much."
"It seems pretty plain to me that that is easier to say than to do,"
retorted Flora, just a little impatiently.
"Yes, I know," assented Ruth, meekly; "I don't pretend to be a Solomon;
I only said you might try."
"I don't believe they would stay for me," contended Flora, stubbornly.
"That is another thing you have never tried yet," said Ruth, smiling
mischievously.
"That is so," laughed Flora, as she took two or three curly parings, and
put them on Ruth's hair, to show penitence for her contrariety. "I guess
I had better not talk any more, until I have tried to do something. I
don't know how to begin my reformatory measures, but I suppose all will
be well if I start with 'whatsoever.'"
By this time the apples were finished, and she rose to go.
"You haven't remired my doll's things," said Jem, reproachfully.
"So I have not," said Flora, and she sat down beside the little
seamstress, and began to "remire" the various articles held up for
inspection. She was compelled to see through Jem's eyes, however, for
the shapes of the garments were not so striking or familiar as to
suggest their names.
When at length she reluctantly took her leave, Ruth invited her to come
soon again, to which she laughingly replied she certainly should. After
this, matters went on more pleasantly at Flora's home. She busied
herself with making the house look as cosy and as attractive as the
shabby furniture and worn carpet would admit. She succeeded beyond her
own expectations. She was gratified also that her brothers seemed to
enjoy the improved condition of affairs, and so did her father when he
was at home. Lottie's potato was now adding its mite to the general
reform, and was sprouting nicely, sending its delicate white roots
downward into the clear water, and its closely folded leaflets upward,
to grow green in the warm sunlight. It seemed to be quite at home in the
bright window. Flora had ceased to dream when she looked at her quaint
friend. The days now, were too full to build air-castles. Mrs. Hazeley
was pleased to shift her responsibility to Flora, who enjoyed nothing
better than to have all her time occupied. Often, when tangles would
come, Flora would run over to the ever-sympathetic Ruth, and receive
advice from her. Thus, in being busy, Flora became more content, and
often, as she thought of Aunt Sarah, she knew she would not be found
fretting.
She had not yet attempted to influence the boys by word, but they soon
noticed the new air of homeliness pervading the rooms, and consequently
did not go out so much as had been their custom. Alec, the younger boy,
was very mercurial and mischievous, while Harry, the elder, was quiet,
and fond of reading.
One evening Harry seemed to be more than usually inclined to be
sociable, and gave his mother and sister an animated account of
something that had happened "down town," that day. When he finished he
took up his book, and was just preparing to read, when Flora, eyeing the
volume distrustfully, asked:
"What are you reading, Harry?"
Harry looked up at her quizzically, and answered her question by
another.
"Why? What is it to you, anyway?"
"Nothing," said Flora, rather disconcerted. She was unaccustomed to
boys, and had but little tact in dealing with them.
"I thought so," replied Harry, coolly, returning to his book.
"Will you not tell me what you are reading?" again asked Flora, not
willing to be so easily vanquished.
"Why do you want to know?" demanded Harry, looking at her suspiciously.
Flora's lips again framed "nothing," but no sound came, for like a flash
she thought, "If I say that, he will say, 'I thought so,' as he did
before. No, I will give a reason," so she said:
"You seemed to be so interested in it, I thought it must be very
entertaining."
"So it is," replied Harry, throwing a mischievous glance over to the
corner at Alec, where he sat thoroughly engrossed in his favorite
pastime of whittling, and in serene thoughtlessness allowing the
clippings to fall according to their own sweet will.
Harry was confident that Flora intended to "read him a lecture upon
trashy literature," as he afterward privately told Alec. He replied:
"It is interesting, Flo, about murders, and bears, cut-throats and
burglars, and other horrors that would make you nervous to read about."
"I am not made nervous so easily as you may think, my dear boy,"
retorted Flora, condescendingly, and at the same time glancing
cautiously at Harry, to see what effect this would have.
She had determined to try and gain an influence over her brothers, and
felt that to show an interest in their occupations would be a good
beginning. She realized the task she thus imposed on herself, but she
meant to do her best, for this was another "whatsoever."
Harry was for a moment too much surprised to speak. Then he said,
saucily:
"Ah, indeed! Well, let me read some to you."
"I shall be glad for you to read to me, if you will read a story I have
just started. I feel sure you will enjoy it. If yours is a book for boys
only, I fear I could not appreciate it."
"Oh, you couldn't?" said Harry. "Why not, may I ask?"
But Flora was up and away ere the sentence was completed. Harry
congratulated himself on having put her to flight, and returned to his
book with a self-satisfied smile. Flora, however, had only gone to her
room for a paper. Hurrying back, she spread it before astonished Harry,
and, pointing to its columns, said, in a peculiarly persuasive manner:
"Now, Hal, I would be ever so glad if you would read that story aloud to
us, while I crochet, and Alec whittles on the floor."
Alec looked confused, and began to pick up some of the litter he had
made.
"Never mind, Alec," said Flora, laughing, "I will clear it up this time.
Could you not put a newspaper under you to catch the cuttings, another
time?"
"All right," said Alec, looking relieved.
"We are all ready, Harry," said Flora, sitting down and taking up her
work.
"Humph!" said Harry, glancing carelessly down the page. "There's nothing
in such a story. I don't want to read it. It is too flat."
"You are mistaken," replied Flora, spiritedly. "It's not a bit flat, and
there is something in it. It is about a brave boy who saved a train."
"Oh, yes, I know," said Harry, skeptically, "and was not hurt."
"Yes, but he did get hurt. Why not read it, and see?" suggested Flora.
"Yes, read it, Hal," said Alec; "let's see what it is, anyway."
"All right," and Harry began to read with a comical nasal twang, very
rasping to Flora's feelings, but she had the wisdom to say nothing. She
was very glad, later, because Harry gradually dropped the false tone,
and she could see by his manner that he had become interested, in spite
of himself. Alec too, had ceased whittling, and was listening intently.
Forgetting to criticise, Harry read the entire story, which, in truth,
was a pathetic little incident, very gracefully and entertainingly told.
He was silent, as he laid the paper on the table, but his thoughts were
busy.
"I was right, was I not, Harry?" asked Flora.
"Yes," drawled Harry, smilingly, "you were. I did enjoy it, and I am
glad you asked me to read it. But, let me see," he added, turning to the
clock, "what time is it? Well," and he laughed, "I was good. It is
nearly ten. Guess I will retire; I was going out, but it is too late."
Flora was secretly rejoiced to hear this, but she simply said,
"Good-night." She felt a glow of satisfaction as she realized a
beginning had been made toward gaining the hold upon her brothers she so
much desired.
"Flora, will you lend me that paper?" asked Alec, as she was preparing
to go to her room. Flora willingly placed the paper in his hand,
remarking, as she did so,
"I am glad you like the story. I have others, if you want them. Aunt
Bertha kept me well supplied."
"Good night," returned Alec, and he was gone.
Flora was more nearly content than she had been for some time, as she
sank into peaceful slumber that night.