_THE BROKEN NOSE._
"There comes mamma with Mamie Stone," said Maggie, as they were going
back to the hotel with Colonel and Mrs. Rush.
When Mamie saw the little girls, she ran to meet them, saying she was
going home to spend the morning with them; and Mrs. Bradford took
them all back with her. While Maggie and Bessie said their lessons,
Mamie amused herself with Franky and Nellie and the baby; and she was
delighted when nurse made her sit down on the floor, and putting the
baby in her lap, let her hold her for a few minutes. Afterwards they
all had a good play together, a doll's tea-party, and a fine swing.
Mamie stayed to dinner, and was very good all day; and very soon after
dinner, Mr. Stone came to take his daughter home. He was a grave,
serious man, and it was rather unusual to see him with such a bright
smile, and looking so happy. He said a few words in a low tone to Mrs.
Bradford and Mrs. Duncan, and they seemed pleased too, and shook hands
with him.
"Yes," he said, in answer to something Mrs. Bradford said to him, "I am
glad of it; it is the best thing in the world for Mamie."
"What is it, papa?" said Mamie, springing forward; "have you got
something for me?"
"Yes," he answered. "Will you come home and see it?"
"What is it,--a new toy?"
"The very prettiest plaything you ever had in your life," he answered,
with a smile.
Mamie clapped her hands. "Can Maggie and Bessie come too?" she asked,
turning to Mrs. Bradford.
"Not to-day," said Mrs. Bradford, "but they shall come soon."
Mamie went away with her father, while Maggie and Bessie stood and
watched her as she went skipping along by his side, looking very happy
and eager.
But when an hour or two later they went down on the beach and found
Mamie, she seemed anything but happy. Indeed, she looked as if nothing
pleasant had ever happened to her in her life. She was sitting on a
stone, the marks of tears all over her cheeks and now and then giving
a loud, hard sob. It was more than sulkiness or ill-humor; any one who
looked at the child could see that she was really unhappy. Martha, her
nurse, was sitting a little way off knitting, and not taking the least
notice of her.
Maggie and Bessie ran up to her. "What is the matter, Mamie?" asked
Maggie.
"My nose is broken," sobbed Mamie, "and my father and mother don't love
me any more."
"Oh," exclaimed Maggie, paying attention only to the first part of
Mamie's speech, "how did it get broken?"
"Baby did it."
"What baby? Not ours?"
"No, an ugly, hateful little baby that's in my mother's room."
"How did it do it?"
"I don't know; but Martha says it did, and she says that's the reason
my papa and mamma don't love me any more."
"Don't they love you?" asked Bessie.
"No, they don't," said Mamie, passionately. "Mamma tried to push me
away, and papa scolded me and took me out of the room. He never scolded
me before, and he was so angry, and it's all for that hateful little
baby. Oh, dear, oh, dear! what shall I do?"
"Wasn't you naughty?" asked Maggie.
"I sha'n't tell you," said Mamie.
"Then I know you was. If you hadn't been, you'd say, 'No!'"
Mamie did not answer. Bessie walked round her, looking at her nose,
first on one side, then on the other.
"I don't see where it's broken," she said. "It looks very good. Will it
blow now?"
"I don't know," said Mamie. "I'm afraid to try. Oh, dear!"
"Does it hurt?" asked Bessie.
"No, not much; but I expect it's going to."
"Maybe we can feel where it's broken," said Maggie. "Let's squeeze it a
little."
"I wont let you," said Mamie. "But I'll let Bessie, 'cause she's so
softly."
Bessie squeezed the nose, first very gently, then a little harder, but
it seemed all right, and felt just as a nose ought to feel. Then Mamie
let Maggie squeeze; but she pinched harder than Bessie had done, and
hurt it a little.
"Oh, you hurt! Go away!" said Mamie, and set up an angry cry.
Martha, who had been talking to Jane, rose at this. "Come, now," she
said, "just have done with this. I wont have any more crying, you bad
child."
"Go away!" screamed Mamie, as Martha came near; "you're bad yourself.
Oh, I want my mamma!"
"Your mamma don't want you then, little broken nose. Have done with
that crying."
"I'll tell mamma of you," said Mamie.
"Oh, you needn't be running with your tales now. Your mamma has got
some one else to attend to."
"That's a shame, Martha," said Jane. "She's just teasing you, Miss
Mamie; your mamma does care for you."
"Martha," said Bessie, "I'm glad you're not my nurse; I wouldn't love
you if you were."
"There's no living with her. She'll be cured of her spoiled ways now,"
said Martha, as she tried to drag the struggling, screaming child away.
But Mamie would not stir a step. She was in a great rage, and fought
and kicked and struck Martha; but just then Mrs. Bradford was seen
coming towards them.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"She's just going on this way because of the baby, ma'am," said Martha.
"Mamie," said Mrs. Bradford, "you don't look like the happy little girl
who left us a short time ago."
Mamie stopped screaming, and held out one hand to Mrs. Bradford, but
Martha kept fast hold of the other, and tried to make her come away.
"Let her come to me, Martha," said the lady; "I want to speak to her."
Martha looked sulky, but she let go of Mamie, and walked away
muttering. Mrs. Bradford sat down on the rock and took Mamie on her lap.
"Now, Mamie, what is the matter?" she asked, kindly. "I thought I
should find you so pleasant and happy."
"My nose is broken," sobbed Mamie, "and oh, dear! my papa and mamma
don't love me any more. I would not care if my nose was broken, if they
only loved me."
"They do love you just as much as they ever did," said Mrs. Bradford,
"and your nose is not broken. How should it come to be broken?"
"There's an ugly baby in mamma's room," said Mamie. "The bad little
thing did it."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Mrs. Bradford, "how could such a little thing
break your nose? Even if it were to give you a blow, which I am sure it
did not, that tiny fist could not hurt you much."
"Martha said it did," said Mamie.
"Then Martha told you what was not true. That is a very foolish, wicked
way which some people have of telling a little child that its nose
is broken, when a baby brother or sister comes to share its parents'
love. And it is quite as untrue to say that your father and mother do
not love you any longer. They love you just as much as they ever did,
and will love you more if you are kind to the baby, and set it a good
example."
"But I don't want it to be mamma's," said Mamie. "I'm her baby, and I
don't want her to have another."
"But you are six years old," said Mrs. Bradford. "You surely do not
want to be called a baby now! Why, Franky would be quite offended if
any one called him a baby. This morning, when you were playing with my
little Annie, you said you did wish you had a baby at home, to play
with all the time; and now, when God has sent you the very thing you
wanted, you are making yourself miserable about it."
"But it isn't a nice, pretty baby like yours," said Mamie. "It don't
play and crow like little Annie, and it don't love me either. It made a
face and rolled up its fist at me."
"Poor little thing!" said Mrs. Bradford, "it did not know any better.
Such very small babies do not know how to play. For some time this
little sister must be watched and nursed very carefully by its mother,
for it is weak and helpless; but when it is a little older, though it
must be cared for still, it will begin to hold up its head and take
notice, and play and crow, as Annie does. Then she will know you, and
be pleased when you come, if you are kind to her. By and by you may
help to teach her to walk and talk. Think what a pleasure that will
be! The first words Franky spoke were taught to him by Maggie, and the
first one of all was 'Mag.'"
Mamie stopped crying, and sat leaning her head against Mrs. Bradford as
she listened.
"But I know my father and mother don't love me so much now," she said.
"Mamma did try to push me away, and papa scolded me so, and he never
did it before."
"Then I am sure you deserved it. I am afraid you must have been very
naughty. Now tell me all about it," said Mrs. Bradford, smoothing back
Mamie's disordered hair, and wiping her heated, tear-stained face with
her own soft, cool handkerchief. "Perhaps we can cure some of your
troubles by talking a little about them. When your father came for you
this afternoon, it seemed to me that half his own pleasure came from
the thought that the baby was to bring so much happiness to you. That
did not look as if he did not love you; did it?"
"No, but he was angry with me."
"Tell me what happened after you went home with him?"
Mamie put her finger in her mouth and hung her head, but after a moment
she looked up and said,--
"He took me into mamma's room, and there was a woman there I did not
know, and that baby was in the bed with mamma."
"And what then?"
"Mamma told me to come and see my darling little sister, and I cried
and said I would not have her for my sister, and she should not stay
there. And papa said I was naughty, and that woman said she would not
have such a noise there, and I must go away if I was not quiet, and
that made me madder. I wasn't going to be sent out of my own mamma's
room for that baby. If she was its nurse, she could take it away. It
hadn't any business there, and then--then--"
Mamie was beginning to feel ashamed, and to see that the most of her
trouble came from her own naughtiness.
"Well, dear," said Mrs. Bradford, gently, "and then?"
"And then I tried to pull the baby away, and I tried to slap the bad
little thing."
"Oh, Mamie!" exclaimed Maggie and Bessie.
"That was the reason your papa was angry, was it not?" asked Mrs.
Bradford.
"Yes, ma'am. Mamma pushed me away, and papa carried me out of the room,
and oh, he did scold me so! He called Martha, and told her to take me
away. Then she said my nose was broken, and papa and mamma would not
love me any more, because the baby had come. Oh! I would be good, if
they would let me go back to mamma, and she would love me."
"She does love you just as much as ever. You see, my child, you
frightened and disturbed her when you tried to hurt that tender little
baby. She cares for you just as much as she did before, and I am sure
she is grieving now because you were naughty, and had to be sent away
from her. And your papa, too, when you see him, only tell him you mean
to be a good child, and kind to the baby, and you will find you are
still his own little Mamie, whom he loves so dearly, and for whose
comfort and pleasure he is always caring. I am sorry Martha has told
you such cruel, wicked stories. There is not a word of truth in them,
and you must always trust your father and mother. I am sure your dear
little sister will be as great a delight to you as Annie is to Maggie
and Bessie, and that you will learn to love her dearly; but you must
be kind and loving yourself, dear, not selfish and jealous, if you
should have to give up a little to baby. It was jealousy which made you
so unhappy. Jealousy is a wicked, hateful feeling, one which is very
displeasing in the sight of God, and which makes the person who gives
way to it very miserable."
"It was Martha who made her jealous," said Maggie. "Martha is a very
bad nurse; she is not fit to have the care of a child. Nurse said so,
and that she told wicked stories; so she does, for I have heard her
myself she is very _deceptious_."
"Well," said her mother, "I hope Mamie will be too wise to mind what
Martha says after this."
"I will try to be good," said Mamie, "and I do love you, Mrs. Bradford.
Do you think, when the baby is older, I can hold her on my lap like I
did Annie?"
"I have not a doubt of it. I cannot tell you in how many ways she will
be a pleasure to you, if you teach her to be fond of you, and she will
be, as your father said, the very prettiest plaything you have ever
had. There comes your papa now;" and Mamie, looking up, saw her father
coming towards them.
Mr. Stone looked grave and troubled, and turned his eyes anxiously
towards Mamie as he spoke to Mrs. Bradford.
"Here is a little girl who thinks she has not behaved well, and wishes
to tell you so," said Mrs. Bradford.
Mr. Stone held out his arms to Mamie, and in another moment she was
clinging round his neck, with her face against his.
"Oh, I will be good! Will you please love me again?"
"Love you? and who ever thought of not loving you?" said Mr. Stone.
"Poor little woman, you did not think your father would ever cease to
love his own Mamie? Not if a dozen daughters came. No, indeed, my pet;
and now do you not want to go and see your poor mamma again, and be a
good, quiet girl? She is feeling very badly about you."
So Mamie went off with her father, feeling quite satisfied that her
nose was as good as ever, and that her father and mother loved her just
as much as they had done before the baby came to claim a share of their
hearts.