PACKING THE BOX.
THE next day’s lessons passed over with the usual amount of weariness on
the part of the teacher, dulness on that of little Eddy, and
carelessness on that of his sister. It was with great difficulty that
Mrs. Ellerslie could keep the attention of Lily to the tasks which she
had to learn. The thoughts of the little girl were constantly wandering,
now to her brother, now to her play, now to some project in her mind,
while she tried the patience of her mother almost as much by the
numerous little bad habits which seemed to spring up like weeds in
neglected ground.
“Lily, do hold up your head!—My child, you must not stand upon one
foot!—Little girls ought not to bite their lips!—What! you have been at
your nails again!” Such were the sentences which, from the lips of the
anxious parent, constantly interrupted the course of the studies. I
began to wonder whether little girls could find any peculiar enjoyment
in biting their finger-ends—whether they thought it becoming to look
hunchbacked, or merely delighted in teasing their teachers, and
defeating the efforts of those who love them to make them lady-like and
agreeable. As I am a needle, and not a little girl, I cannot tell which
of these three motives it was that influenced the conduct of Lily. If
any of my young readers ever follow her example, I beg them to decide
the question.
At length lessons were finished, and the tired teacher was free, but not
to rest. Oh no! but to pack up a box for her sister in India, which must
be despatched before one o’clock.
“Now, my darlings, run up and get ready for your walk.”
Lily sauntered slowly up to the window. “Oh, I’m so glad! it’s raining
fast!” said she. “I have something that I particularly want to do. See,
mamma, what Lizzie gave me yesterday!” And she drew, from a little
pocket in her dress, a very small parcel, and opening it, displayed to
view a reel of bright, glittering gold thread.
“Very pretty; and what will you make of it, my dear?” said Mrs.
Ellerslie, kindly pausing in her occupation of clearing away
school-books and slates, Lily never dreaming of offering her assistance.
“I’m going to ornament a pen-wiper for George,” replied the child;
“don’t you think that it will please him very much? May I stay here and
work it beside you?”
Mrs. Ellerslie nodded her head in assent, but looked a little grave;
perhaps she would have preferred being left for an hour in quiet, and
had some idea what the permission would cost her.
“And may I stay here too, mamma?” inquired Eddy. “I want to look at you
packing all these things. Do let me stay, darling mamma!”
She could not resist his entreaty; so there he pretty quietly stood,
watching his mother as she hastily spread the table with various
parcels, brown paper, oil-skin, a tin box, and string.
“Mamma,” said Lily, standing on one foot, with the golden thread
dangling from her hand, “don’t you think that this will look well upon a
dark ground?”
“Yes, my love,” answered Mrs. Ellerslie, her voice half drowned in the
rustling of paper.
“Mamma, do you think blue or green would look best?”
“I really cannot think about it at all just now. My box must be ready
before one. Now, my Eddy, you must not open the parcels.”
“I was just peeping in a little, mamma.”
“Don’t come to the table, my sweet boy! Mamma is very busy indeed.”
Eddy trotted off without saying another word.
“Mamma,” began Lily again, “do you think that you have a bit of
dark-blue cloth or velvet, whichever you please, to give me for the
sides of my pen-wiper?”
“I dare say I have some upstairs in my wardrobe.”
“Could I go and get it, mamma?”
“No; you know that I never allow you to search there,” said the lady,
who, having lined the bright tin box with paper, was trying every
possible position in which an awkward shaped parcel could take up least
room.
Lily remained silent for a few minutes, but without occupying herself
with anything but the thought how she could persuade her mother to give
her at once what she had set her heart upon obtaining. At length she
cautiously commenced with, “I am rather in a hurry to begin.”
“I will look out the piece for you when next I go upstairs.”
Lily gave a very audible sigh.
“This would be just the time for working,” murmured she.
“I shall have no peace till I get it for the child,” exclaimed Mrs.
Ellerslie, half to herself; and the too indulgent mother left her
parcels and her box, to commence a search for some small remnants of
cloth, which, to judge by the length of her absence, she had a good deal
of trouble in finding.
“Now, do not interrupt me any more,” she said, as she placed them in the
eager hand of Lily, and turned, by more active exertions, to make up for
the time which she had lost.
The girl bore them off in triumph to her work-box; but here a new
difficulty arose. She snipped off this corner and that corner, by the
aid of Mrs. Scissors, but could not satisfy herself with the shape.
Again she approached her mother at the table: “Please to make me a good
round, mamma. I have tried, but I cannot do it myself.”
“You can wait a little, my dear.” Mrs. Ellerslie was pressing down the
lid of the box, which seemed evidently determined not to close, and she
looked certainly heated and tired.
Again I heard that naughty, impatient sigh; again the tender mother
yielded to importunity; the round was cut out, and a minute’s peace
secured.
“Where’s the string?” said Mrs. Ellerslie quickly, moving the box,
lifting paper, glancing under the table. The lines on her forehead were
plain enough now.
Lily was busily employed trying to force the bright golden thread though
my little eye. I saw plainly that she could never succeed, and I felt
exceedingly mortified; for what could be a higher object of ambition to
a needle than to be threaded with gold? Lily saw that her mother was
hunting and searching for the lost piece of string, but she never
stirred to assist her.
“Where can it be? I’m sure that I brought some down! Where can I have
laid the string?”
“Here it is!” cried Eddy, suddenly becoming aware that his mother wanted
something which he had himself carried off. He had been quietly amusing
himself in his corner, tying chairs, stool, sofa, and bell-rope
together, with a liberal expenditure of string and a very large
allowance of tight knots.
It was Mrs. Ellerslie’s turn to be impatient, as, hastily endeavouring
to undo the child’s work, she exclaimed, “How on earth shall I unfasten
all this?”
“It’s my harness, mamma, and these are my horses! Oh, are you vexed?” he
added, looking up in her face, and reading, from her harassed
expression, that he had again been guilty of causing her trouble. “I’m
very sorry, mamma; I’ll never do so any more.”
Even in the midst of her hurry, the gentle mother stooped down to give
him a kiss. She had another hurried run upstairs to bring more string,
for she had not the spare time to undo all his knots; but no angry word
passed her lips. She let Eddy stand beside her at the table, even
trusted him to hold a match which she had lighted, and employed him to
ring the bell.
“I am so glad that it is done at last!” cried the lady, sinking wearily
on the sofa, as the box—it was barely packed in time—was carried by a
servant from the room.
“And I helped you, mamma!” said Eddy proudly.
“I shall never manage this!” cried Lily impatiently. “Oh, the tiresome
needle!—stupid thread!”
“I am at leisure now,” said her mother; “bring your work to me, my dear
child.”
“One would need a bodkin to hold such great coarse cord,” exclaimed
Lily.
What a name to give to the most delicate flexible thread which had ever
employed the ingenuity of man to beat out from a single grain of gold!
“If you had waited a little, I should have shown you what to do. The
gold thread must not be passed through the thick cloth at all, but be
fastened down to it with a little fine cotton. Thread your needle, and I
will show you the way.”
Oh, the patience and love of a mother! Alas, that it should often be
met, if not with actual ingratitude, yet with that selfish want of
consideration which receives every kindness as a matter of course, and
never makes the smallest sacrifice in return!
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