_A TALK WITH PAPA._
MR. RANSOM had said that the family were not to wait tea for him, as he
might be late; but they were scarcely seated at the table when he came
in and took his place with them.
"Elinor," he said immediately, looking across the table at his wife, "I
met Mr. Bradford, and he told me he had seen you down on the beach with
the children. I told him he must be mistaken, as you were not fit for
such a walk, but he insisted he was right. It is not possible you were
so imprudent, is it?"
"Well, yes, if you will call it imprudence," answered Mrs. Ransom,
smiling. "I do not feel that it has hurt me."
"Your face tells whether it has hurt you or no," said her husband in a
vexed tone; "you look quite tired out: how could you do so?"
"I wanted Carrie to have the walk, and I felt more able to go with
her than to spare the nurse and take care of baby myself," answered
Mrs. Ransom, trying to check farther questioning by a side glance at
Nellie's downcast face.
But Mr. Ransom did not understand, or did not heed the look she gave
him.
"And where was our steady little woman, Nellie?" he said. "I thought
she was to be trusted to take care of the other children at any time or
in any place."
"And so she is," said Mrs. Ransom, willing, if possible, to spare
Nellie any farther mortification, "but she was occupied this afternoon."
"That's nonsense," exclaimed Mr. Ransom, with another vexed look at
his wife's pale face; "Nellie could have had nothing to do of such
importance that it must hinder her from helping you. Why did you not
send her?"
"Papa," murmured poor Nellie, "I--mamma--I--please--it was all my
fault. I--I was cross to Carrie. Please don't blame mamma."
Nellie's humble, honest confession did not much mollify her father, who
was a quick-tempered man, rather apt to be sharp with his children if
any thing went wrong; but another pleading look from his wife checked
any very severe reproof, and in answer to her "I really think the walk
did not hurt me," he contented himself with saying shortly, "I don't
agree with you," and let the matter drop.
No sooner was Nellie released from the tea-table than she was busy
again over her Bible and the slips of paper, quite lost to every thing
else around her. The children chattered away without disturbing her;
and she did not even notice that papa and mamma, as they talked in low
tones on the other side of the room, were looking at her in a manner
which would have made it plain to an observer that she was the subject
of their conversation.
By and by Daisy came to kiss her for good-night. She raised her
head slightly, and turned her cheek to her little sister, answering
pleasantly enough, but with an absent air, showing plainly that her
thoughts were busy with something else.
Daisy held strong and natural objections to this not over-civil mode of
receiving her caress, and, drawing back her rosy lips from the upraised
cheek, said,--
"No, I shan't kiss you that way. I want your mouf; it's not polite to
stick up a cheek."
An expression of impatience flitted over Nellie's face; but it was gone
in an instant, and, dropping her pencil, she put both arms about Daisy,
and gave her a hearty and affectionate kiss upon her puckered little
mouth.
Daisy was satisfied, and ran off, but, pausing as she reached the door,
she looked back at her sister and said,--
"You're an awful busy girl these days, Nellie; the play is all gone out
of you."
Nellie smiled faintly, hardly heeding the words; but other eyes which
were watching her thought also that she did indeed look as if "all
the play had gone out" of her. She returned to her work as Daisy left
her side, but even as she did so she drew herself up with a sigh, and
passed her hand wearily across her forehead.
"It is time a stop was put to this," whispered her father, and mamma
assented with a rather melancholy nod of her head.
Not two minutes had passed when Daisy's little feet were heard
pattering down the stairs again, and her glowing face appeared in the
open door.
"Ruth says she can't put baby down to put me to bed," she proclaimed
with an unmistakable air of satisfaction in the circumstances which
made it necessary for mother or sister to perform that office for her.
"Who wants to do it?" she added, looking from one to the other.
Mrs. Ransom looked over at Nellie, as if expecting she would offer to
go with Daisy; but the little girl paid no attention, did not even seem
to hear the child.
Mrs. Ransom rose and held out her hand to Daisy.
"Nellie," said Mr. Ransom sharply, "are you going to let your mother go
upstairs with Daisy?"
Nellie started, and looked up confusedly.
"Oh! I didn't know. Do you want me to, mamma? Couldn't Ruth put her to
bed?" she said, showing that she had, indeed, not heard one word of
what had passed.
"Ruth cannot leave the baby," said her mother; "but I do not want you
to go unwillingly, Nellie. I would rather do it myself."
"I am quite willing, mamma," and the tone of her voice showed no want
of readiness. "I did not know you were going. Come, Daisy, dear."
But she could not refrain from a backward, longing look at her book
and papers as she left the room.
She was not unkind or cross to her little sister while she was with
her; far from it. She undressed her carefully and tenderly,--with
rather more haste than Daisy thought well, perhaps, but doing for her
all that was needful; and, if she were more silent than usual, that did
not trouble Daisy, _she_ could talk enough for both.
But her thoughts were occupied with something quite different from
the duty she had before her; she forgot one or two little things, and
would even have hurried Daisy into bed without hearing her say her
prayers, but for the child's astonished reminder. This done, and Daisy
laid snugly in her crib, she kissed her once more, and gladly escaped
downstairs. Daisy was never afraid to be left alone; besides, there was
the nurse just in the next room.
"Are you going back to that horrid writing?" asked Carrie, as Nellie
took her seat at the table again.
"I am going back to my writing," answered Nellie, dryly.
Carrie looked, as she felt, disgusted. Papa and mamma had gone out on
the piazza; but mamma would not let her be in the evening air, and she
wanted amusement within; and here was Nellie going back to that "horrid
writing," which had occupied her so much for the last three days.
Nellie had plainly neither time nor thought to bestow upon her; and she
wandered restlessly and discontentedly about the room, fretting for
"something to do."
But a few minutes had passed when a loud thump sounded overhead; and a
shriek followed, which rang through the house. There was no mistaking
the cause: Daisy had fallen out of bed, as Daisy was apt to do unless
she were carefully guarded against it; and the catastrophe was one
of such frequent occurrence, and Daisy so seldom received injury
therefrom, that none of the family were much alarmed, save her mother.
Mrs. Ransom ran upstairs, followed quickly by Nellie and Carrie, and
more slowly by her husband, who hoped and believed that Daisy had had
her usual good fortune, and accomplished her gymnastics without severe
injury to herself.
It proved otherwise this time, however; for, although not seriously
hurt, Daisy had a great bump on her forehead, which was fast swelling
and turning black, and a scratch upon her arm; and she was disposed to
make much of her wounds and bruises, and to consider herself a greatly
afflicted martyr.
How did it happen? Daisy should have been fastened in her little bed,
so that she could not fall out.
"Nellie," said Mrs. Ransom, as she held the sobbing child upon her lap
and bathed the aching little head with warm water and arnica,--"Nellie,
did you fasten up the side of the crib after you had put Daisy in bed?"
"No, mamma, I don't believe I did," said conscience-stricken Nellie. "I
don't quite remember, but I am afraid I did not."
"And why didn't you? You know she always rolls out, if it is not done,"
said her mother.
"I--I suppose I did not remember, mamma. I was thinking about something
else; and I was in such a hurry to go downstairs again. I am so sorry!"
And she laid her hand penitently on that of Daisy, who was regarding
her with an injured air, as one who was the cause of her misfortunes.
"Yes, I am afraid that was it, Nellie," said Mrs. Ransom. "Your mind
was so taken up with something else that you could not give proper
attention to your little sister. I am sorry I did not come myself to
put her to bed."
It was the second time that day that Nellie might have been helpful to
her mother, but she had only brought trouble upon her.
She stood silent and mortified.
Mr. Ransom took Daisy from her mother and laid her back in her crib,
taking care that she was perfectly secured this time; then went
downstairs. But Daisy was not to be consoled, unless mamma sat beside
her and held her hand till she went to sleep; so Mrs. Ransom remained
with her, dismissing Carrie also to bed.
Nellie assisted her to undress, making very sure that nothing was
forgotten this time, and then returned to see if her mother was ready
to go downstairs. But Daisy was most persistently wide awake; her fall
had roused her from her first sleep very thoroughly; and she found it
so pleasant to have mamma sitting there beside her that she had no mind
to let herself float off to the land of dreams, but kept constantly
exciting herself with such remarks as--
"Mamma, the's a lot of tadpoles in the little pond."--"Mamma, the's
lots of niggers in Newport; oh! I forgot, you told me not to say
niggers; I mean colored, black people."--"Mamma, when I'm big I'll
buy you a gold satin dress." Or suddenly rousing just as her mother
thought she was dropping off to sleep, and putting the startling
question, "Mamma, if I was a bear, would you be my mamma?" and mamma
unhappily replying "No," she immediately set up a dismal howl, which
took some time to quiet.
Finding this to be the state of affairs, and warned by her mother's
uplifted finger not to come in the room, Nellie went downstairs again,
meaning to return to her former occupation. But, to her surprise, the
Bible, which she remembered leaving open, was closed and laid aside,
her papers all gone.
"Why," she said, "who has meddled with my things, I wonder?"
"I put them all away, Nellie," said her father.
"I am going to write more, papa."
"Not to-night. Put on your hat and come out with me for a little walk,"
said Mr. Ransom.
Nellie might have felt vexed at this decided interference with her
work; but the pleasure of a moonlight walk with papa quite made up for
it, and she was speedily ready, and her hand in his.
Mr. Ransom led her down upon the beach, Nellie half expecting all the
time some reproof for the neglect which had caused so much trouble; but
her father uttered none, talking cheerfully and pleasantly on other
subjects.
It was a beautiful evening. The gentle waves, shimmering and glancing
in the moonlight, broke softly on the beach with a soothing, sleepy
sound; and the cool salt breeze which swept over them came pleasantly
to Nellie's flushed, hot cheeks and throbbing head. She and her father
had the beach pretty much to themselves at this hour; and, finding a
broad, flat stone which offered a good resting-place, they sat down
upon it, and watched the waves as they curled and rippled playfully
upon the white sands.
"Now," thought Nellie, when they were seated side by side,--"now,
surely, papa is going to find fault with me; and no wonder if he does.
Twice to-day I've made such trouble for mamma, when I never meant to do
a thing! I don't see what ailed me to-day. It has been a horrid day,
and every thing has gone wrong."
And Nellie really did not know, or perhaps I should say had not
considered, what it was that had made every thing go wrong with her for
the greater part of the day.
But no; again she was pleasantly disappointed. Papa talked on as
before, and called her attention to the white sails of a ship gleaming
far off in the silver moonlight, and told her an interesting story of a
shipwreck he had once witnessed on this coast.
As they were on their way home, however, and when they had nearly
reached the house, Mr. Ransom said,--
"Nellie, what is this you are so busy with, my daughter?"
"What, my writing do you mean, papa?" asked Nellie, looking up at him.
"Yes, some Bible lesson, is it not?"
"Not just a lesson, papa," answered Nellie. "Miss Ashton gave us three
or four subjects to study over a little this summer, if we chose, and
to find as many texts about as we could; but it is not a lesson, for we
need not do it unless we like, and have plenty of time."
"Then it is not a task she set you?" said Mr. Ransom.
"Oh, no, papa! not at all. She said she thought it would be a good plan
for us to read a little history every day, or to take any other lesson
our mammas liked, but she did not even first speak of this of herself;
for Gracie Howard asked her to give us some subjects to hunt up texts
about, and then Miss Ashton said it would be a good plan for us to
spend a little time at that if we liked, and she gave us four subjects.
She said it would help to make us familiar with the Bible."
"Yes," said Mr. Ransom musingly, and as if he had not heeded, if indeed
he had heard, the last sentence of her speech.
"And I have such a long list, papa," continued Nellie, "that is, on
the first subject; and on the second I have a good many, too, but I am
not through with that. I had very few the day before yesterday; but
then, you know, Maggie Bradford came to see me, and she is doing it,
too, and she had so many more than I had that I felt quite ashamed.
Then the same afternoon I had a letter from Gracie Howard, and she told
me she had more than a hundred on the first, and nearly a hundred on
the second; so I felt I must hurry up, or maybe all the others would be
ahead of me. I've been busy all day to-day finding texts, and copying
them."
"Is that all you have done to-day?" asked Mr. Ransom.
Nellie cannot gather from his tone whether he approves or not; but
it seems to her quite impossible that he should not consider her
occupation most praiseworthy.
"Oh, no, papa!" she answered. "I have done several things besides. I
read nearly twenty pages of my history twice over, and learned every
one of the dates; then I studied a page of Speller and Definer, and a
lesson in my French Phrase-book, and did four sums, and said '7 times'
and '9 times' in the multiplication table, each four times over. 7's
and 9's are the hardest to remember, so I say those the oftenest. I did
all those lessons and half an hour's sewing before I went to my texts;
but I've been busy with those almost ever since."
"And you have had no walk, no play, all day?" questioned Mr. Ransom.
Nellie was not satisfied with her father's tone now; it did not by any
means express approbation.
"I have not played any, papa, but I had some exercise; for all the time
I was learning my French phrases, I was rolling the baby's wagon around
the gravel walk."
"And it was pretty much the same thing yesterday, was it not?" said Mr.
Ransom.
"Well, yes, papa," rather faintly.
"Nellie," said her father, "did you ever hear the old couplet, 'All
work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'?"
"Yes, papa," answered Nellie, half laughing, half reluctantly, as she
began to fear that her father intended to interfere with her plans for
study. "But am I 'a dull boy'?"
"Neither 'dull' nor a 'boy,'" answered her father, playfully shaking
the little hand in his. "But I fear there is danger of the former,
Nellie, if you go on taking so much 'work' and no 'play.' Miss Ashton
did not desire all this, if I understand you, my dear."
"Oh, no, papa! I was just doing it of myself. Miss Ashton only said,
if our papas and mammas did not object, she thought it would be wiser
for us to have a little lesson or reading every day. But you see,
papa"--Nellie hesitated, and then came to a full stop.
"Well?" said her father, encouragingly.
"Papa, I seem to be so far behind all the girls of my age in our class.
It makes me feel ashamed, and as if I must do all I could to catch up
with them."
"I do not know," said Mr. Ransom. "It seems to me that a little girl
who keeps the head of her spelling, history, and geography classes for
at least a fair share of the time, and who has taken more than one
prize for composition and steady, orderly conduct, has no need to feel
ashamed before her school-fellows."
"Well, no, papa--but--but--somehow I am not so quick as the others. I
generally know my lessons, and do keep my place in the classes about as
well as any one; but it takes me a great deal longer than it does most
of the others. Gracie Howard can learn in half the time that I can; so
can Laura Middleton, Maggie Bradford, and 'most all the girls as old as
I am, whom I know."
"And probably they know them and remember them no better than my
Nellie," said her father.
Mr. Ransom was not afraid of making his little daughter conceited or
careless by over-praise; she had not sufficient confidence in herself
or her own powers, and needed all the encouragement that could be given
to her. Too much humility, rather than too little, was Nellie's snare.
"Yes, papa," she answered. "I suppose I do _remember_ as well as any of
the rest, and I seldom miss in my lessons; but I don't see why it is
that often when Miss Ashton asks us some question about a lesson that
has gone before, or about something that I know quite well, the words
do not seem to come to me very quick, and one of the others will answer
before I can. Miss Ashton is very good about that, papa, and sometimes
it seems as if she knew I was going to answer; for she will say,
'Nellie, you know that, do you not, my dear?' and make the others wait
till I can speak. But, papa, even then it makes me feel horridly, for
it seems as if I was stupid not to be quick as the others, and I can't
bear to have them waiting for me to find my words. So I want to study
all I can, even out of school and in vacation."
Nellie's voice shook, and her father saw in the moonlight that the eyes
she raised to him were full of tears.
"And you think that all this extra study is going to help you, my
little girl?" he said.
"Why, yes, I thought it would, papa. I want to learn a great deal, for,
oh, I would so like to be quick and clever, to study as fast and answer
as well as Maggie, Gracie, or Lily! Please don't think I am vexed if
the other children go above me in my classes, or that I am jealous,
papa; I don't mean to be, but I would like to be very wise, and to know
a great deal."
"I certainly shall not think you are envious of your schoolmates and
playfellows, my daughter, however far they may outstrip you, and papa
can feel for you in your want of readiness and quickness of speech, for
he is troubled sometimes in the same way himself; but, Nellie, this
is a misfortune rather than a fault, and, though you would do well to
correct it as far as you can, I do not know that you are taking the
right way; and I am sure, my dear, that you have plainer and nearer
duties just now."
"You say that, papa, because I was disobliging to Carrie this
afternoon, and careless with dear little Daisy to-night, and I know it
serves me right; but do you think it is not a very great duty for me to
improve myself all I can?"
"Certainly, Nellie, I think it your duty to make the most of your
advantages, and that you should try to improve yourself as much as you
can at proper times and in proper places; but I do not think it wise or
right that my little girl should spend the time that she needs for rest
or play in what is to her hard work and study. My child, you are doing
now four times as much as you should do, while at the same time you are
forgetting or neglecting the little every-day duties that fall to you.
Is it not so?"
"I dare say you think so, papa, after to-day," answered Nellie, with
quivering voice; "but I can try not to let myself be so taken up again
with my lessons, and then there will be no harm in it, will there?"
"Have you felt very well, quite like yourself, during the last few
days, Nellie?"
"Well, no, sir," said Nellie, reluctantly. "Not quite. I feel rather
tired every morning when I wake up, and my head aches a good deal 'most
all the time. And--and--I _don't_ feel quite like myself, for I feel
cross and hateful, and I don't think I usually am very cross, papa."
"And the harder you work, the worse you feel; is it not so?"
"Well, I don't know, papa; but you do not think study makes my head
ache, or makes me cross, do you?"
"Certainly I do, dear; too much study, too much work, which may make
Nell a dull girl, if she does not take care. Your little mind has
become over-tired, Nellie; so has your little body; and health and even
temper must suffer."
"I'll try not to be cross or careless again, papa," said Nellie,
humbly. "And there is no need for me to play if I do not choose, is
there?"
"Who gave you your health and good spirits, Nellie?"
"Why, God, papa!"
"And do you think it right, then, for you to do any thing which
destroys or injures either?"
"No, papa," more slowly still, as she saw his meaning.
They had been standing for the last few moments at the foot of the
piazza steps, where mamma sat awaiting them; and now, stooping to kiss
his thoughtful, sensible little daughter, Mr. Ransom said,--
"We have had talk enough for to-night, Nellie; and it is past your
bed-time. Think over what we have said, and to-morrow I will talk
to you again. Put texts and lessons quite out of your head for the
present, and go to sleep as soon as you can. Good-night, my child."
Nellie bade him good-night, and, kissing her mother also, obeyed, going
quietly and thoughtfully upstairs. That was nothing new for Nellie; but
her mother's anxious ear did not fail to notice that, spite of the walk
and talk with papa, her foot had not its usual spring and lightness.
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