SALLIE'S HOME TROUBLES.
SALLIE MUNSON was the daughter of a man who had sailed as Captain of a
schooner, bound for the West Indies, more than five years before the
date of our story. He left a wife and seven children, of whom Sallie was
the youngest, and the only daughter. At the time he left home she was
just past six, and was therefore now eleven.
Five long, weary, waiting years of watching, suspense and anxiety, had
left Mrs. Munson careworn and old before her time. Her eldest son was
married and settled at a distance; the second had gone with his father
as a sailor; the sixth boy, her darling, blue-eyed Jamie, was buried at
the end of her little garden; leaving four children dependant on her
labor for their support. To be sure, Abner, the oldest at home, was
nearly seventeen; but though steady and honest, he lacked energy and
thrift. When away from home he was the butt and laughing-stock of his
more shrewd companions; and so his patient mother obtained what
employment she could for him, under her own eye, and sent his brother
Joseph, a stout, fun-loving lad of fifteen, to work in a neighboring tan
yard.
Edward and Sallie went to school during the short sessions both in
summer and winter, though the care and pains it cost their mother to fit
them out in clothes and books, I can hardly describe.
Once a year Mrs. Barnes, the Captain's sister, came to the sea-shore to
spend a few days, and always brought with her a bundle of half-worn
clothes, out of which the widow made useful, if not fashionable,
garments for her family.
It was shortly after one of these visits, that Sallie wore to school a
dress, made from one given her by her aunt. It was a bright plaid, and
with great pains had been made to fit her neatly. Whether the boddice
and sleeves were in the prevailing mode, she was ignorant, until
informed by her school-mate, Matilda.
This young girl had some good traits of character. She was diligent in
her studies, and prompt in obliging a friend. But she had one terrible
failing; a love of gossip or mischief-making, which rendered her
dangerous to the peace of those with whom she associated.
This habit often led her much farther than she anticipated, and betrayed
her into sundry exaggerations which she sometimes keenly regretted.
At recess, Cynthia Manning refused to lend a new book to Matilda; and to
show her spite, she determined to make a quarrel between the cousins.
The two girls lived not far apart, and usually walked home together in
company with Hatty.
This time Matilda hurried her friend along, and began at once to say:
"It's strange you can't have anything new, without Cynthia being so
envious. Just because you've got a handsome new gown, she's so mad, she
can't say enough against it. She made all manner of fun of it behind
your back, and called it real dowdy. 'I do declare,' she said, tossing
back her head, 'for all Sallie is so set up with her new dress, I
wouldn't be seen wearing such a vulgar-looking thing.'"
This was what had made Sallie exclaim in anger against her cousin. The
reason Matilda was unwilling her companion should explain why she looked
feverish, was because she well knew Hatty's character as a peace-maker;
and her conscience loudly whispered that she had told much more than was
true.
After the girls parted, and she went into her own home, do you think she
was happy? Are quarrelsome people generally so? We shall see.
Matilda was the eldest of five children. The baby, as Master Tom, a
sturdy little fellow of two years was called, was playing near the steps
as she walked up the path from the gate. He gave a shout of welcome; but
she pushed over his pile of stones with her foot, laughed at his cry of
disappointment, and opened the door, with a frown on her face.
It was Wednesday; and the afternoon was a holiday. She felt quite sure
there would be no play for her, and was resolved to show her displeasure
at once.
She threw her pile of books into a chair, tossed her hat on another,
and, passing through the common sitting-room, asked in a complaining
tone,--
"Isn't dinner most ready?"
"Oh, Matilda!" said her mother, "you're just in time; run back as quick
as you can to the store, and ask Mr. Pratt to cut you a thick slice of
ham. Your father will be home in ten minutes, and be angry if dinner
isn't ready. There, catch up your hat, and run quick."
"It's always the way," pouted Matilda, snatching the plate her mother
held toward her. "I wanted to eat my dinner, and go nutting; but I never
can do any thing."
She did not hurry in the least; but, just outside the gate, met her two
brothers, who were quarreling about a jack-knife, one of them had found.
Instead of trying to make peace, she entered into the quarrel, and soon
had both of them railing at her.
When her father came from his toil, hungry and impatient for his dinner,
his wife was fretting; and his daughter nowhere in sight.