_WHO IS A LADY?_
In the afternoon the children asked their grandmother if they might go
down upon the beach, but she said it was still too warm, and she did
not wish Bessie to go out until the sun was down.
"Grandma is going to take her nap now," said Aunt Annie; "suppose we
go out on the piazza and have a store, and ask Lily and Gracie to come
play with you."
"Is Miss Adams there?" asked Maggie.
"No, but the colonel has had his arm-chair taken out, and is sitting
there with Mrs. Rush, and I am going there with my work; so you will be
quite safe."
"Oh, then we'll go," said Bessie. She did not feel afraid where the
colonel was.
"Are you going to sew with Mrs. Rush again?" asked Maggie.
Aunt Annie laughed and pinched her cheeks, telling her not to be
inquisitive. For the last few days Aunt Annie had always seemed to be
sewing with Mrs. Rush, and they were very busy, but they did not appear
to wish to let the little girls know what they were doing. Annie was
always whisking her work out of their sight, and if they asked any
questions, they were put off, or told, as Maggie was now, not to be
curious.
Once when they were staying with the colonel, when Mrs. Rush had gone
out for a while, he sent Bessie to a certain drawer to find a knife.
Bessie did as she was told, but as she was looking for it, she suddenly
called out, "Oh, what a dear darling little cap! just like a dolly's.
Why, does Mrs. Yush play with dolls when nobody looks at her?"
"Holloa!" said the colonel, "I forgot; come away from that drawer. I'm
a nice man; can't keep my own secrets."
Maggie was going to ask some questions; but the colonel began to talk
about something else, and they both forgot the little cap. But they
were very curious to know why Aunt Annie and Mrs. Rush were always
whispering and laughing and showing each other their work, as well as
why it was so often put away when they came near. To-day Aunt Annie was
embroidering a little piece of muslin, but she did not put it out of
their sight, though she would answer no questions about it.
They all went out on the piazza to set about making what Maggie called,
"A Grocery and _Perwision_ Store." The piazza steps ended in two large
blocks of wood, and on one of these they were to play. Aunt Annie made
some paper boxes to hold some of their things, and they had clam shells
for the rest. They had sand for sugar, blades of timothy grass for
corn, sea-weed for smoked beef and ham, and small pebbles for eggs,
with larger ones for potatoes. In short, it was quite wonderful to see
the number of things they contrived to have for sale. When the colonel
found what they were about, he called for a couple of clam shells, and
sent his man for a piece of wood and some twine; with these he made a
pair of scales, which Maggie and Bessie thought quite splendid. To be
sure, one side was ever so much heavier than the other, but that did
not matter in the least; neither they nor their customers would be
troubled by a trifle like that. Then he gave them a couple of bullets
and some shot for weights, so that the whole thing was fixed in fine
style.
Maggie went to call Lily and Gracie, and when Mamie Stone heard what
was going on, she asked if she might come too. Maggie said "Yes," for
Mamie was not so disagreeable as she used to be when she first came to
Quam Beach. However fretful and selfish she was when she was playing
with other children, she was almost always pleasant when she was with
Maggie and Bessie.
Maggie went back with her to their little playmates, and in a few
moments they were all as busy as bees. Maggie said Bessie must be
store-keeper, for she knew she did not feel like running about.
They had been playing but a little while, when Walter came up, and when
he saw what they were doing, he said he would be a customer too. He
was a capital playfellow, and pretended to be ever so many different
people. First, he was an old negro man, then he was a naughty boy, who
meddled with everything on the counter, and gave the little shop-woman
a great deal of trouble, which she enjoyed very much; then he was a
Frenchman, who spoke broken English; and after that, he pretended to be
a cross old Irishman.
While they were playing so nicely, who should come sweeping down the
piazza but Miss Adams, dressed in her riding-habit? Away went all the
little girls like a flock of frightened birds. Mamie and Lily ran into
the parlor, where they peeped at her from behind the blinds; Gracie
scrambled into Annie Stanton's lap; Maggie squeezed herself in between
the colonel and Mrs. Rush; and Bessie walked to the other side of the
colonel, where she stood with her hand on his chair.
Miss Adams was vexed when she saw them all fly off so, for she had not
come with any intention of interrupting or teasing them. She was going
out to ride, and had walked to the window of the hall above, to see if
the horses were at the door, and there she had noticed the children at
their play.
Bessie stood quietly behind her counter, while the rest ran about after
Maggie. She looked more pale and languid than usual that afternoon, as
she always did when she had been tired or excited. All the soft pink
color which had come into her cheek since she had been at Quam Beach
was quite gone; it was no wonder that grandma frowned and bit her lip
to keep herself from saying sharp things when she looked at her darling
that day.
Now, Miss Adams always said that she was afraid of nobody, and did not
care what people said of her; but as she watched the delicate little
child, who she knew had been brought by her parents to the sea-shore
that she might gain health and strength, she felt sorry that she had
plagued her so, and thought that she would like to make it up with
her. She went into her room, put a large packet of sugar-plums into
her pocket, and then went down stairs. She came up to Bessie just as
the little girl reached the colonel's side, and, standing before her,
said,--
"Well, Bessie, are you in a better humor yet?"
Bessie was certainly not pale now. A very bright color had come into
her cheeks, as Miss Adams spoke to her, but she said nothing.
"Come," said Miss Adams, holding out the parcel, "here are some
sugar-plums for you; come, kiss me and make up."
"I'll forgive you," said Bessie, gravely; "but I don't want the
sugar-plums."
"Oh, yes, you do!" said Miss Adams; "come and kiss me for them."
"I don't kiss people for sugar-plums," said Bessie; "and I'm sure I
don't want them."
"Then come and kiss me without the sugar-plums."
"No," said Bessie, "I'll shake hands with you, but I don't kiss people
I don't like."
"Oh!" said Miss Adams, "I suppose you keep all your kisses for your
friend, the colonel."
"Oh, no," answered Bessie, "a great many are for papa and mamma, and
the yest of the people I like."
Miss Adams saw that the colonel was laughing behind his newspaper, and
she was provoked.
"And you don't like me, eh?" she said, sharply. "Don't you know it's
very rude to tell a lady you don't like her, and wont kiss her?"
Bessie opened her eyes very wide. "Are you a lady?" she asked, in a
tone of great surprise.
Mrs. Rush did not wish to have Miss Adams go on talking to the child,
for she was afraid straightforward Bessie would say something which
would cause fresh trouble; and she begged Annie Stanton to take her
away; but Annie would not; she rather enjoyed the prospect, and when
Mrs. Rush would have spoken herself, her husband put out his hand and
stopped her.
"A lady!" repeated Miss Adams; "what do you take me for? Don't you know
a lady when you see one?"
"Oh, yes," answered Bessie, innocently. "Mamma's a lady, and grandma
and Aunt Annie and Mrs. Yush, and ever so many others."
"And I'm not, eh?" said Miss Adams, angrily.
Bessie did not answer, but peeped up under the colonel's paper, to see
if he would help her; but he did not seem inclined to interfere. His
eyes were fixed on the paper which he held before his face, and his
other hand was busily engaged in smoothing his moustache.
Miss Adams was very angry. She would not have cared if she had been
alone with Bessie; but she was provoked that she should tell her she
was not a lady, before so many people, for two or three gentlemen had
gathered near, and the colonel's amusement vexed her still more.
"You don't call me a lady, eh?" said Miss Adams again.
"How can you quarrel with such a baby about nothing, Miss Adams?" said
Mrs. Rush, rising from her seat.
"She is no baby. She knows very well what she is about, and she has
been put up to this," said Miss Adams, with a furious look at the
colonel. "Who told you I was not a lady?"
"Nobody; I just knew it myself," said Bessie, drawing closer to the
colonel, as Miss Adams came nearer to her. He threw down his paper, and
put his hand over her shoulder.
"You little impertinent!" said Miss Adams, "who made you a judge, I
should like to know? Not a lady, indeed!"
Poor Bessie! She would not say what she did not think, and she did not
like to say what she did think; but she was tired of the dispute, and
thought Miss Adams would have an answer. She gave a long sigh, and
said,--
"Well, perhaps you are a kind of a lady; but if you are, it must be a
kitchen or stable lady."
The gentlemen who were standing by walked quickly away; Mrs. Rush
looked frightened; Annie bent her head down on Gracie's shoulder, and
shook with laughter; and the colonel reached his crutches and, rising,
began to steady himself.
Miss Adams stood silent a moment, and then began to speak in a voice
almost choked with rage, "You little--" when the colonel interrupted
her.
"Excuse me, madam," he said, "if I remind you that you have no one to
blame for this but yourself. The child is straightforward and honest,
accustomed to speak as she thinks; and if she has said what was better
left unsaid, remember that you forced her to it. I cannot permit her to
be annoyed any farther."
Helpless as he was, he looked so grand and tall as he stood there with
his eyes fixed sternly on Miss Adams, that she felt abashed. Mrs. Rush
had taken Bessie into her room, Annie had followed with Maggie and
Gracie, and there was no one left to quarrel with but the colonel. Just
at that moment the horses were led up, and she turned away and went
down the steps to mount.
But Miss Adams had never been so annoyed. She had no mother, or perhaps
she would not have been so rough and unladylike; but she had had many
a reproof from other people. Many a grave, elderly lady, and even some
of her own age, had spoken, some kindly, some severely, upon the wild,
boisterous manner in which she chose to behave. But she had always
laughed at all they said, and went on as before. But that this innocent
little child, to whom she had been so unkind, should see for herself
that she had acted in an improper way, and one that was only fit for
the kitchen or stable, and should tell her so, and show such surprise
at hearing her call herself a lady, was very mortifying, and she could
not forget it.
That evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Bradford came home, they went over
to the hotel for their little girls, and Annie told them all that
had happened that day. After Bessie was undressed, and had said her
prayers, she sat on her mother's lap, and told her of all her troubles,
and then she felt happier.
"Mamma, I'm afraid I made Miss Adams mad, when I said that, and I
didn't mean to," she said.
"But why did you say it, Bessie?--it was saucy."
"Why, I had to, mamma; I didn't want to; but I couldn't _break the
truth_; she asked me and asked me, so I had to."
"Oh, my Bessie, my Bessie!" said mamma, with a low laugh, and then she
held the little girl very close in her arms, and kissed her. Bessie
nestled her head down on her mamma's bosom, and her mother held her
there, and rocked her long after she was fast asleep. Sometimes she
smiled to herself as she sat thinking and watching her child; but
once or twice a bright tear dropped down on Bessie's curls. Mamma
was praying that her little girl might live to grow up and be a good
Christian woman, and that she might always love the truth as she did
now, even when she was older and knew it was not wise to say such
things as she had done to-day.