IX.

_MAKING GINGER-CAKES._

BUT how?

Ah! there it was. That which would have been easy and simple enough in

the beginning, had she but done as she should, and taken the mice at

once to the cook, was now a great trouble and difficulty.

For if she took them to Catherine now, the cook would ask where she had

found them, and put other questions which she would not wish to answer;

for that would involve a confession she had no mind to make, penitent

though she was, or thought herself.

And how was she to put the mice out of the way herself? She could not

tell what to do with them. Should she carry the box off somewhere, away

to the woods or down on the shore, and let the mice out there?

But then again, if she did this, she must leave the other children,

her little guests Maggie and Bessie, too; and this would excite wonder

and curiosity; more than that, she was not allowed to go out of their

own grounds alone. She might perhaps hide them in the garden-house

if she could but contrive to escape the eyes of her companions for a

few moments, but no, the black cat might return in search of Daisy's

pets, and her own fall victims to the creature. No, that plan would

never answer; but what should she do? Oh! if she only had known

beforehand what trouble and unhappiness her momentary disobedience and

deceit would bring upon her, she would never, never have yielded to

temptation, and hidden the mice. Why had she not taken time to think

about all this?

Ah, Carrie, there it is. If we only knew beforehand, if we only could

foresee the consequences of our wrong-doing, the misery and punishment

we shall bring upon ourselves, perhaps upon others, how careful

it would make us to avoid the sin! But the pleasure comes first,

the punishment after, when it is too late; and nothing is left but

repentance and regret.

Carrie had run up to the garret once more, hastily taken the box from

its hiding-place, and brought it down to the room next her mother's,

which she and Nellie shared. There she stood now, a most unhappy little

girl, as such thoughts as these chased one another through her mind,

trying to think of some plan for ridding herself of the mice, but

obliged to reject first one and then another.

What was she to do?

She was in dread this very moment lest the other children should come

upstairs and find her there with her dreadful secret; yes, it was

dreadful to Carrie now; and she felt almost angry at the innocent

little mice.

You have all heard of the unhappy man who was very anxious to have an

elephant, and at last won one in a raffle; but the moment it was his

own he did not know what to do with it, and would have been glad to

have some one take it off his hands. Those mice were as bad as so many

elephants to poor Carrie, and oh, how she wished that she had never

seen them! _Seen_ them! She had not even done that! Only _heard_ them

as they rustled in their prison-house; not very satisfactory payment

certainly for all the pain and trouble she had gone through ever since

she had taken them. The man at least could _see_ his elephant, but her

mice she had only _heard_.

And what a rustling and scratching and gnawing they were making now

within the box which stood on the table before her, where she regarded

it with puzzled, troubled face, wishing it and its occupants a thousand

miles away!

There was a little hole near the bottom of the box: had the mice

gnawed it, trying to make their escape? And how had they come in the

box, and how many were there? What a noise they made!

Forgetting her anxieties for one moment, Carrie took up the box

again, put her eye to the hole, and tried to peep within. But it was

useless, she could see nothing; and now the mice, frightened by her

movements, were as quiet,--well, as quiet as only mice can be under

such circumstances.

Carrie thought she would open the lid of the box a little and peep

within, just a very little bit, not far enough for the mice to escape,

but so she could see how many were there, and what they looked like.

Mice were such dear little things!

No sooner said than done. She raised the lid, cautiously and very

slightly at first, then a little farther, when, quick as thought, a

mouse sprang through the opening, and in a second of time was gone.

Carrie gave a start as sudden; the box fell from her hands, the

cover rolled off, and there were four or five little mice tearing

wildly about the room, seeking each one for a hiding-place, but rather

bewildered by finding themselves so abruptly turned out from their old

home, and scattered abroad upon the wide world.

But perhaps you would like to hear how the mice had come to be in the

box, and I will let you know. The mice never told _me_; but I know for

all that, and this was the way.

Mother Nibble, having strayed into the house one day, made her way

into the store-room, and there found this box with the lid partly

open, a fine stock of chocolate and barley within, and plenty of

soft, tender paper; and made up her mind that here would be a quiet,

well-provisioned house in which to bring up her young family.

And here they had remained undisturbed until that very morning, when

Nellie, putting her store-room to rights, had chanced to discover them,

and, closing them down in sudden imprisonment, had sent them to a fate

from which Carrie's naughtiness had saved them.

And they had escaped now, every one of them, and were scampering here

and there before Carrie's startled eyes.

Another moment, and they were gone, hidden safely away in nooks and

crannies such as only mice could find.

But they were out at large. Here in this very room next to mamma's;

even worse, Carrie had seen one run through the open door into mamma's

own bedroom! What was she to do? Suppose her mother should see him,

find him anywhere, even hear him scratching and nibbling on her own

premises! She had seen enough of her mother's nervous terror of a

mouse, strange, even needless it might seem to herself; but she knew

too well what a torment it was; and now!

She felt as though it was rather hard that the mice should have

escaped, and here in this very place, just at the moment when she had

been going to sacrifice her own pleasure to her mother's comfort, and

to be "as good as Daisy."

Ah! but, Carrie, there was a great difference between you and Daisy.

Your little sister had never yielded to temptation, had put aside her

own wishes at once for the sake of her mother's feelings,--put them

aside as a matter of course, and without a thought that it could or

should be otherwise.

Dear, unselfish little Daisy!

But it would not do for her to stand here, idly gazing about her. There

were the other children expecting her, perhaps looking for her; she

heard their voices even now in the hall below.

Hastily gathering up the scattered fragments of paper, tin-foil, and

crumbs of chocolate and barley which had fallen to the floor, she

collected them within the box, put the cover upon that, opened a drawer

belonging especially to herself, and thrust all beneath some other

things. Some other time, she thought, she would throw the box away;

for the present it was safe there.

This done, she ran downstairs and rejoined her sisters and brothers

and young friends, who were all still so occupied with Daisy and her

pathetic sorrow over the parting from the white mice, that they had

scarcely noticed Carrie's absence, and did not annoy her with the

questions she had dreaded.

But it was a miserable afternoon to Carrie. She felt that repentance

had come too late, and that now at any time her mother might encounter

a mouse. She was not sorry when it came to an end, and Mrs. Bradford,

returning with Mrs. Ransom from their drive, took away her own little

flock with her; Frankie carrying the white mice, which he assured Daisy

he was "only keeping" for her till he and she were married, when he

would "build her a gold house for them;" and that they were just as

much hers if they did live in his house.

Daisy watched the departure of her pets with the most pitiful of

little faces, striving with all her might to smile and look cheerful,

but failing distressingly. Mrs. Ransom hardly understood what it was

all about till Mrs. Bradford's carriage had gone, the white mice with

it; but, when she did, she overwhelmed her unselfish little darling

with so many thanks and caresses that Daisy felt repaid for her

sacrifice.

Nellie wondered what it could be that made Carrie continue so out of

spirits and almost fretful all the evening; but, having been repulsed

once or twice when she would have attempted to give sympathy or ask

questions, she found it best to let Carrie alone, even when she heard

her crying quietly to herself after they had both gone to rest, and her

sister believed her to be asleep.

But when the next morning came, and nothing had yet been seen or heard,

so far as she knew, of the escaped prisoners, Carrie's spirits rose

once more, and she believed that she should have no farther trouble

from them.

Papa was expected home upon the evening of this day, and Nellie was to

be allowed to try her hand upon his favorite ginger-cakes. Nellie had

something of a turn for cooking, and was always so careful about rules

and proportions, steady little woman that she was, that mamma was not

much afraid that she would fail, especially with good-natured Catherine

to keep an eye upon her.

Of course the making of the ginger-cakes was a very important business,

the grand event of the day to Nellie, Carrie, and Daisy; for the two

last must have a hand in them, and "help" Nellie in her operations.

More than this, they were to be allowed to roll out some "teenty

taunty" cakes for their own eating and that of their dolls. They

would have had Nellie go to her cake-making the first thing in the

morning, and leave all else till this was accomplished; but that was

not Nellie's way. "Duty before pleasure" was generally her motto; and

of late she had kept it steadily before her, and tried also to be very

sure which was the _duty_ and which the _pleasure_, feeling that she

had too often mistaken the one for the other.

But at last all the regular small housekeeping tasks were done, and,

with a pleasant consciousness of duty fulfilled, Nellie signified to

the other children that she was ready to begin her cookery.

Catherine had every thing ready for her; and Nellie with a long apron

tied about her neck and covering all her dress, her sleeves rolled

up to her shoulders, and her receipt-book lying open beside her, was

soon deep in the mysteries of mixing, while Carrie stood on the other

side of the table, sifting sugar; and Daisy, mounted on a chair beside

Nellie, ladled spoonful after spoonful of flour into the stone bowl

wherein Nellie was stirring her mixture. Nor did she spill more than a

quarter of each spoonful on the way, which, on the whole, is saying a

good deal.

Daisy's face was radiant, and her troubles of yesterday were for the

time quite forgotten in the interest of her occupation.

"Carrie," said Nellie presently, trying to be mysterious, so that Daisy

might not know she was the subject of remark, "Carrie, don't you think

a certain person of our acquaintance has pretty well recovered?"

"Yes," answered Carrie, "you mean the youngest person in the

k-i-c-h-u-n, don't you? Oh! quite recovered."

But Daisy was too quick for them, and, immediately understanding

that she was the individual alluded to, thought herself called upon

to return to the mournful demeanor which she considered proper under

her bereavement, and, banishing the smiles from her face, she said,

dolefully,--

"You mean me! I know you mean me; and I'm not recoveryed at all, not

one bit."

"But I would if I were you," said Nellie. "When we do a kind thing for

any one, like your giving up your mice for mamma, it is better not to

let them see we feel very badly about it. That is, if we can help it;

and I think you could feel a little glad and happy now if you chose:

couldn't you?"

"Well, I don't know, I b'ieve not," answered Daisy, closing her eyes

with an expression of the most hopeless resignation. "There now!"

continued this unappreciated little mortal, opening them again, "just

look how that old flour went and spilled itself! There's only a little

speck left in the spoon!"

"Because you didn't look what you were doing," said Nellie, laughing;

"better keep your eyes open, Daisy, when you are carrying flour."

"I fink I could recovery a little if I only knew what was in that big

parcel," said Daisy, taking up another spoonful of flour, this time

with her eyes open.

"What parcel?" asked Carrie.

"That large parcel that came home yesterday," said Daisy. "It is for

papa, so mamma said it wasn't right for me to peek; and now it's in the

hall-closet where I can't even see the outside of it. I asked mamma if

I couldn't just open the closet door and look at it, but she told me

I'd better not, 'cause, if I did, it might be a temp-ta-tion," repeated

Daisy with a justifiable pride in the long word and her correct

pronunciation of it.

"Yes, I know," said Nellie, turning to kiss the chubby, befloured

little face at her side. "I know, darling; and you were a wise girl to

keep away; you've been very good yesterday and to-day. Don't put in any

more flour till I come back. I am going into the store-room for another

paper of ginger."

"Carrie," said Daisy, when Nellie had gone, "did you ever have a

temp-ta-tion?"

Carrie did not like this question; innocently as her little sister put

it, it brought back to her too plainly that yielding to temptation of

which she had so lately been guilty.

"Of course, child," she answered pettishly, "everybody does."

"Did it make you do somefing naughty?" was Daisy's still more unwelcome

question.

"Mind your own business," snapped Carrie. "Daisy, I never did see a

child who talked so much."

Daisy ventured no further remark, but stood gravely regarding Carrie

with reproving displeasure till Nellie returned, when she turned to her

and said,--

"Nellie, isn't it more politer to say, 'Please wait and talk a little

more anofer time,' than to say, 'Mind your own business, you talk too

much!'"

"I should think it was. O Daisy, what a funny child you are!" said

Nellie, much amused, and without the least suspicion that Carrie was

the offender in question. "Who has been so rude to you, darling?"

"Never mind," said Daisy. "Carrie, I won't tell tales 'bout you, if you

was rude to me,--oh, so rude!"

Nellie laughed merrily again over Daisy's fancied concealment of

Carrie's sins against her.

"I don't see what there is to laugh about," said Carrie, angrily. "You

think Daisy is so smart."

Nellie was grave in a moment, wondering, as she had had occasion to do

many times during the last twenty-four hours, what could make Carrie so

cross and ready to take offence.

"Any more flour, Nellie?" asked Daisy.

"No more now," answered her sister. "Catherine, the receipt don't _say_

cinnamon, but papa likes it so much, I think I will put some in. It

can't do any harm, can it?"

"Not at all; I'm thinking it would be an improvement myself, Miss

Nellie," answered the cook. "But then I've not a pinch of powdered

cinnamon. I used the last yesterday for the rusks."

"There's some in the dining-room," said Nellie. "Daisy, dear, you can

do that. Go to the sideboard, open the right-hand door, and bring

sister the spice-box you will see on the first shelf. Bring it very

carefully."

"Yes, I know it," said Daisy, scrambling down from her chair, and

feeling rather important in her errand. "Cafarine, don't I help a whole

lot?"

"Oh! a wonderful lot! I never saw a darlin' that made herself so

useful;" and with these words of praise sounding in her ears, Daisy

went off happy.

In two minutes she was back again, breathless, with wide-open eyes, the

crimson deepening in her cheeks, but with the spice-box safely in her

clasp.

"Nellie! and Carrie! and Cafarine! all of yous! what do you fink?" she

cried. "Oh! such a fing!"

"What is the matter?" said all three at once.

"A mouse! a weally mouse in the dinin'-room. Not a white mouse, but

a nigger mouse,--oh! I forgot again,--I mean a colored person mouse,

right in the dinin'-room! What will mamma say?"

"Oh! you must be mistaken, Daisy," said Nellie, while Carrie heard the

words of her youngest sister with a sinking heart.

"No, I'm not, I'm not," persisted Daisy. "It was just as weally a mouse

as it could be. He was under the sideboard, and he ran out and under

the sofa."

"Oh dear!" said Nellie, in dismay at the news. "Catherine, there must

be mice in this house. A good many too."

"Well, no, miss, I think not," said the cook. "This is the first one"--

Down went the bowl into which Carrie was sifting her sugar, not

purposely, though she was only too thankful for the diversion it

afforded, but because she had given a violent start and knocked the

bowl with her elbow in her alarm at Catherine's words. How nearly her

secret had been discovered! But now it was safe at least for the time,

for the bowl was broken, the sugar scattered over the floor, and it was

some moments before order was restored; by which time Nellie was intent

upon cutting out her cakes, marking them with the "jigging iron," and

laying them in the bake-pans, so that she had no thought for mice,

white or gray.

Declaring herself "tired of helping," and feeling that her labors had

brought no very satisfactory result to herself or others, Carrie left

the kitchen and wandered into the dining-room, possibly to see if she

could spy the mouse Daisy had discovered. But no, there was no mouse

there, at least she could find none; and she began to hope that, after

all, the little one had been mistaken.

Oh dear! how wretched and unhappy she felt! She began to think she

would feel better if she went and told mamma, making honest confession

of what she had done, and begging her forgiveness.

Just then Daisy came into the room, and began peeping around in every

corner and under each article of furniture.

"You needn't be looking for that mouse," said Carrie, "he's gone; and,

any way, I don't believe there was any mouse there."

"There was, oh! there was," cried Daisy. "I saw him wif my own eyes

running fast, fast. But, Carrie, Nellie says we'd better not speak

about it 'fore mamma, 'cause it would trouble her."

"I don't believe it. You just thought you saw him," persisted Carrie.

"Now you've said a great many bad fings to me, but that's the baddest

one of all, and I shall leave you alone wif your own se'f," said the

offended Daisy, and walked away with her head held high.

Now it might almost have been imagined that Daisy knew that Carrie's

"own se'f" was no very pleasant company just at this time, and that she

wished to punish her by leaving her "alone wif" it; and, innocent as

she was of any such intention, she certainly had her revenge.

Carrie's own thoughts were not agreeable companions; even less so now

than they had been before Daisy came in, for her half-formed resolution

of telling all to her mother seemed less difficult than it had done

before her little sister had said that Nellie thought it best not to

speak of the mouse to mamma. If mamma was not to hear of one mouse,

it would not do to tell her that several were running at large about

the house; and Carrie could not help feeling and believing that this

was one of the escaped captives. Mice could come downstairs, that she

knew; for once, when she and Nellie had been spending the day with Lily

Norris, they had seen a little mouse hopping down from stair to stair,

and had stood motionless and silent, watching till he reached the

bottom of the flight, when his quick, bright eyes caught sight of them,

and he scampered away in a fright.

And now that it was forbidden, she was seized with a strong desire

to relieve her mind by a full confession to mamma. Then at least she

would be free from the burden of carrying about with her such a guilty

_secret_.

"Oh dear! oh dear!" she said to herself, "whenever I've done anything

naughty before, I could always go and tell mamma, and then she forgave

me, and I felt better; but now it seems as if I did not dare to tell

her this. I'd dare for myself, even if she was very much displeased and

punished me; but I suppose I mustn't dare for her. It is _too_ hard."

Ah, Carrie! so, sooner or later, we always find the way of

transgression; and oftentimes the sharpest thorns in the road are those

which we have planted with our own hands, not knowing that they will

wound our feet, and hold us back when we would retrace our steps.

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