_THE LETTER._
You are not going to hear all that Maggie and Bessie did every day at
the sea-shore, but only a few of the things that happened to them.
They liked Quam Beach more and more. Maggie did not mind the
trundle-bed so very much after a night or two, though she never seemed
to grow quite used to it; and Bessie, who had been weak and sick when
they left home, became stronger, and was soon able to run about more
with the other children.
After a few days they began to bathe in the sea. Maggie was afraid at
first, and cried when she was carried into the water; but the second
time she was braver, and she soon came to like it almost as well as
Bessie, who never was ready to come out when it was thought she had
been in long enough. She would beg her father or the bathing-woman to
let her stay just one minute more; and she would laugh when the waves
came dashing over her, so that sometimes the salt water would get into
her little mouth. But she did not mind it, and begged for another and
another wave, until papa would say that it was high time for her to
come out. Mamma said she had never seen Bessie enjoy anything so much,
and it made her feel very happy to see her little girl growing well and
strong again.
Bessie loved the sea very much, and often when her sister and little
companions were playing, she would sit quietly on some rock, looking
away out over the wide, beautiful waters, or watching and listening to
the waves as they came rolling up on the beach. People who were passing
used to turn and look at her, and smile when they saw the sweet little
face, which looked so grave and wise. But if any stranger asked her
what she was thinking about, she would only say, "Thoughts, ma'am."
Maggie did not like to sit still as Bessie did. She was well and fat
and rosy, and full of fun when she was with people she knew; and she
liked to play better than to sit on the rocks and watch the water, but
she seldom went far away from Bessie, and was always running to her
with some pretty shell or sea-weed she had found. She and Bessie and
Lily Norris would play in the sand and make little ponds or wells, and
sand pies, or pop the air bags in the sea-weed; or have some other
quiet play which did not tire Bessie. Very often Walter Stone and Tom
Norris gave them a ride in the wagon; or Tom told them nice stories;
and sometimes they all went out on the water in Mr. Jones's boat, or
took a drive with papa and mamma. Before they had been at Quam Beach
many days, they knew quite a number of the children who were staying
there; and they liked almost all of them, except fretful Mamie Stone,
who made herself so disagreeable that no one cared to play with her. In
short, there were so many things to do, and so much to see, that the
day was never long enough for them.
Then they made friends with Toby, Mr. Jones' great white dog. He was
an ugly old fellow, and rather gruff and unsociable; but, like some
people, he was in reality better than he appeared. He would never allow
any grown person but his master to pet him; and if any one tried to
pat him or make him play, he would walk away and seat himself at a
distance, with an offended air which seemed to say, "What a very silly
person you are; do you not know that I am too grave and wise a dog to
be pleased with such nonsense!"
But he was not so with little children. Though he would not play, he
let Susie and Franky pull his ears and tail, and roll and tumble over
him as much as they liked without giving them one growl. Maggie and
Bessie were rather afraid of him at first, but they soon found he was
not as fierce as he looked, and after Mr. Jones had told them how
he saved a little boy from drowning the last summer, they liked him
better, and soon came to have no fear of him.
This boy had been one of those who were boarding in the house last
year, and was a disobedient, mischievous child. One day he wanted to
go down on the beach, but it was not convenient for any one to go with
him, and his mother told him he must wait. He watched till no one saw
him, and then ran off followed by Toby, who seemed to know that he was
in mischief.
When the child reached the beach, he pulled off his shoes and stockings
and went to the water's edge where the waves could dash over his feet.
He went a little farther and a little farther, till at last a wave came
which was too strong for him. It threw him down and carried him out
into deeper water, and in another minute he would have been beyond help
had not Toby dashed in and seized hold of him. It was hard work for
Toby, for he was not a water-dog; but he held the boy till a man, who
had seen it all, came running to his help and pulled the boy out.
After this, Toby would never let the child go near the water all the
time he staid at Quam Beach. If he tried to go, Toby would take hold
of his clothes with his teeth, and no coaxings or scoldings would make
him let go till the boy's face was turned the other way.
Toby was of great use to Mrs. Jones; she said that he was as good as a
nurse. Every day she used to put Susie to sleep in a room at the head
of the garret stairs. Then she would call the dog, and leave him to
take care of the baby while she went about her work; and it seemed as
if Toby knew the right hour for Susie's nap, for he was never out of
the way at that time. He would lie and watch her till she woke up, and
then go to the head of the stairs and bark till Mrs. Jones came. Then
he knew that his duty was done, and he would walk gravely down stairs.
Sometimes Mrs. Jones put Susie on the kitchen floor, and left Toby to
look after her. He would let her crawl all round unless she went near
the fire, or the open door or kitchen stairs, when he would take her by
the waist and lift her back to the place where her mother had left her.
Susie would scold him as well as she knew how, and pound him with her
little fist; but he did not care one bit for that.
After a time Bessie grew quite fond of Toby. Maggie did not like him
so much. She liked a dog who would romp and play with her, which Toby
would never do. If his master or mistress did not want him, Toby was
generally to be found lying on the porch or sitting on the edge of the
bank above the beach, looking down on the people who were walking or
driving there. Bessie would sit down beside him and pat his rough head,
and talk to him in a sweet, coaxing voice, and he would blink his eyes
at her and flap his heavy tail upon the ground in a way that he would
do for no one else.
"Bessie," said Maggie, one day, as her sister sat patting the great
dog, "what makes you like Toby so much; do you think he is pretty?"
"No," answered Bessie, "I don't think he is pretty, but I think he is
very good and wise."
"But he is not so wise as Jemmy Bent's Shock," said Maggie; "he does
not know any funny tricks."
Jemmy Bent was a poor lame boy, and Shock was his dog,--a little
Scotch terrier with a black shaggy coat, and a pair of sharp, bright
eyes peeping out from the long, wiry hair which hung about his face.
He had been taught a great many tricks, and Maggie thought him a very
wonderful dog, but Bessie had never seemed to take much of a fancy to
him.
"But he is very useful," said Bessie, "and I don't think Shock is
pretty either; I think he is very ugly, Maggie."
"So do I," said Maggie; "but then he looks so funny and smart: I think
he looks a great deal nicer than Toby."
"I don't," said Bessie, "I don't like the look of Shock; the first time
I saw him I didn't think he was a dog."
"What did you think he was?"
"I thought he was _a animal_," said Bessie, "and I was afraid of him."
"And are you afraid of him now?"
"No, not much; but I had rather he'd stay under the bed when I go to
see Jemmy."
"I wouldn't," said Maggie, "and I can't like Toby so much as Shock. No,
I can't, Toby, and you need not look at me so about it."
Maggie's opinion did not seem to make the least difference to Toby; he
only yawned and blinked his eyes at her.
When Maggie and Bessie had been at Quam Beach about a week, they woke
one morning to find it was raining hard, and Mr. Jones said he hoped it
would keep on, for the rain was much needed. The little girls hoped it
would not, for they did not like to stay in the house all day. About
eleven o'clock they went to their mother and told her they had promised
to write a letter to Grandpapa Duncan, and asked if they might do it
now. Mamma was busy, and told them that she could not write it for them
at that time.
"But, mamma," said Maggie, "we don't want you to write it for us;
grandpapa will like it better if we do it all ourselves. I can print
it, and Bessie will help me make it up."
So mamma gave them a sheet of paper and a pencil, and they went off in
a corner to write their letter. They were very busy over it for a long
while. When it was done they brought it to their mother to see if it
was all right. There were a few mistakes in the spelling which Mrs.
Bradford corrected; but it was very nicely printed for such a little
girl as Maggie. This was the letter:--
"DEAR GRANDPAPA DUNCAN,--
"Maggie and Bessie are making up this letter, but I am
printing, because Bessie is too little. We hope you are
well, and Bessie is better and I am very well, thank you,
and every body. It rains, and we have nothing to do, and
so we are writing you a letter. We like this place; it is
nice. There is a great deal of sea here. There are two
kittens here. Mrs. Jones made us a turnover. The old cat is
very cross. Mrs. Jones put currants in it, and she put it
in the oven and the juice boiled out and made it sticky,
and it was good and we eat it all up. Dear grandpa, we hope
you are well. This is from us, Maggie and Bessie. Good-by,
dear grandpa. P. S.--We can't think of anything else to
say. My hand is tired, too.
"Your beloved
"MAGGIE AND BESSIE.
"Another P. S.--God bless you."
Mamma said it was a very nice letter, and she folded it and put it in
an envelope. Then she directed it to Mr. Duncan, and put a postage
stamp on it, so that it was all ready to go with the rest of the
letters when Mr. Jones went to the post-office in the evening.
But you must learn a little about the dear old gentleman to whom the
children had been writing. His name was Duncan, and he lived at a
beautiful place called Riverside, a short distance from New York.
He was not really the children's grandfather, but his son, Mr. John
Duncan, had married their Aunt Helen; and as they were as fond of him
as he was of them, he had taught them to call him Grandpapa Duncan.
A little way from Riverside lived a poor widow named Bent. She had a
son, who a year or two since had fallen from a wall and hurt his back,
so that the doctor said he would never walk or stand again. Day after
day he lay upon his bed, sometimes suffering very much, but always
gentle, patient, and uncomplaining.
Jemmy was often alone, for hours at a time; for his mother had to work
hard to get food and medicine for her sick boy; and his sister, Mary,
carried radishes and cresses, and other green things to sell in the
streets of the city. But Jemmy's Bible and Prayer-book were always at
his side, and in these the poor helpless boy found comfort when he was
tired and lonely.
To buy a wheel chair, in which Jemmy might be out of doors, and be
rolled from place to place without trouble or pain to himself, was the
one great wish of Mrs. Bent and Mary; and they were trying to put by
money enough for this. But such a chair cost a great deal; and though
they saved every penny they could, the money came very slowly, and it
seemed as if it would be a long while before Jemmy had his chair.
Now Mrs. Bradford was one of Mary's customers; so it happened that the
children had often seen her when she came with her basket of radishes.
Bessie used to call her "yadishes," for she could not pronounce _r_:
but neither she nor Maggie had ever heard of the poor lame boy, till
one day when they were at Riverside. Playing in the garden, they saw
Mary sitting outside the gate, counting over the money she had made
by the sale of her radishes: and as they were talking to her, it came
about that she told them of the sick brother lying on his bed, never
able to go out and breathe the fresh air, or see the beautiful blue sky
and green trees, in this lovely Summer weather; and how she and her
mother were working and saving, that they might have enough to buy the
easy chair.
Our little girls were very much interested, and went back to the house
very eager and anxious to help buy the chair for Jemmy; and finding
Grandpapa Duncan on the piazza, they told him the whole story. Now our
Maggie and Bessie had each a very troublesome fault. Bessie had a quick
temper, and was apt to fly into a passion; while Maggie was exceedingly
careless and forgetful, sometimes disobeying her parents from sheer
heedlessness, and a moment's want of thought. When Mr. Duncan heard
about Jemmy Bent, he proposed a little plan to the children, that
pleased them very much.
This was about a month before they were to leave the city for the
sea-shore. Grandpapa Duncan promised that for each day, during the next
three weeks, in which Bessie did not lose her temper and give way to
one of her fits of passion, or in which Maggie did not fall into any
great carelessness or disobedience, he would give twenty cents to each
little girl. At the end of three weeks this would make eight dollars
and forty cents. When they had earned this much he would add the rest
of the money that was needed to buy the wheel chair, and they should
have the pleasure of giving it to Jemmy themselves.
The children were delighted, and promised to try hard, and they
did do their best. But it was hard work, for they were but little
girls,--Bessie only five, Maggie not quite seven. Bessie had some hard
battles with her temper. Maggie had to watch carefully that she was not
tempted into forgetfulness and disobedience. And one day Maggie failed
miserably, for she had trusted to her own strength, and not looked for
help from above. But Grandpapa Duncan gave her another trial; and, as
even such young children may do much toward conquering their faults if
they try with all their hearts, the money was all earned, the chair
bought, and Maggie and Bessie carried it to lame Jemmy. Then it would
have been hard to tell who were the most pleased, the givers or the
receivers.
Nor did Maggie and Bessie cease after this to struggle with their
faults, for from this time there was a great improvement to be seen in
both.