THE FLOWER-GARDEN.
One day Myrtle met Rosebud coming from the fishermen’s huts, looking
quite sorrowful.
“Pretty little Rosebud,” said he, “what troubles you, I pray?”
“Alas!” said Rosebud, “I have now nothing to bestow. I have seen a
little lame child, and a poor, suffering, sick young maiden, and a pale
woman, dressed all in black, who weeps every day. And I have nothing
to bestow. At the palace were so many beautiful things, and gold in
plenty. The wood-cutters’ children were so pleased when I brought
them gifts! Now I have nothing! Not even a flower! But, Myrtle,” she
cried, “we will plant flowers! and they will grow! And we will gather
such sweet nosegays! Nosegays and garlands for everybody! for all love
flowers. Flowers such as I plucked in my own garden. Bright, blooming,
fragrant flowers!” she continued, mournfully, her voice growing every
moment fainter and more sorrowful. Myrtle feared she was going to cry,
and so made haste to answer.
“But we have no seeds. And, besides, winter is coming; flowers die in
the winter.”
“True,” said Rosebud; “we will wait till spring. The rich man, who
lives behind the hill yonder, has a fine garden. I have looked through
at the beds of flowers, often; and I shall beg seeds from the gardener.”
“But the dog!” cried Myrtle. “His great, black, barking dog! he might
tear you in pieces!”
“But I shall pat his head,” said Rosebud; “and I shall say, ‘Good
doggie!’ It is not wise to be always afraid.”
* * * * *
Winter was now approaching. Storms were frequent, cold winds blew, the
sea became rough, and the high waves came roaring, tumbling, foaming to
the shore. Snow fell, fishing-boats were hauled up out of reach of the
tide, and soon the beach was covered with cakes of ice. The children
were often compelled to remain for days and weeks inside the hut.
For employment, Rosebud began to make various things of the shells
collected in summer. The sick girl had taught her. Beautiful shells
they were; pink, yellow, purple, and white, and very pretty boxes,
baskets, vases they made. Even Bess and Judy begged to learn, and
Myrtle helped too.
“And now we have something to bestow!” cried Rosebud, one day.
“This, now, shall be for the little lame child. She will look up so
pleasantly, with her soft brown eyes! And the pale woman in black,
who is weeping always, she shall have this small, pure white basket.
Perhaps she may smile for once.”
“No!” cried the old woman, looking up from the ashes,--“no, I say! They
shall be sold,--sold in the town! Can you tell me where your bread is
to come from?”
So all the pretty things were taken to the town and sold. And the old
woman, finding they brought money, compelled them to work every stormy
day until the shells were gone. But whenever it was possible to leave
the house they were made to pick up drift-wood as usual. Bitter cold
work it was, creeping among the ice-cakes and over the slippery rocks!
The days when granny was away were happy days for them. They could then
sing their songs, tell their stories, play their plays, and invite to
their hut the little children of the shore, without fearing blows from
the old staff.
In the summer Rosebud had taken very little notice of the doings of
granny. She only knew, that, although appearing quite lame, she went
often to the town; that when at home she did little but poke in the
ashes and smoke her pipe; and now Rosebud began to wonder how she fed
them all. She spoke of this to Myrtle, but he only shook his head, and
said granny would not bear to be questioned, and that she would be very
sorry if she made the old woman angry.
Now, as Rosebud had no wish to make the old woman angry, she kept her
mouth shut, but opened her eyes very wide, and wondered why granny
muttered so much to herself, and fell asleep often in her chair, and,
when asleep, muttered strange things, and whose were the voices she
heard evenings, when all the children were in bed?--gruff men’s voices.
And, when tired of wondering at all these, she would wonder about
Rupert, and why he never had come for her as he promised, and almost
hoped he would not, now that she had become accustomed to her new life,
and to Myrtle, and to all the children of the shore, and that there was
so much to be done, when winter was over, about the garden. She hoped
Rupert would leave her there, at least until the earth had been dug up
and the seeds planted, and the plants came up and budded and bloomed,
and lovely nosegays had been gathered.
Poor Rupert! Rosebud need neither have feared nor wondered concerning
his coming had she known the ill that had befallen him.
It may be remembered that, when Rosebud was taken from the palace, she
wore a green dress besprinkled with diamonds. Now, on the day in which
Rupert had taken her to the hut, while waiting in the wood for the
approach of evening, Rosebud, at his request, gave him those diamonds,
that he might with them pay the expenses of his journey. And, had he
known their real value, all might have gone well with him; but, as he
by no means knew the worth of these jewels, all went ill with him.
For at an inn of some great city he offered one of them for a loaf of
bread, two cuts of bacon, and a night’s lodging.
“You thief!” cried the innkeeper, and called an officer of justice,
who arrested him upon the spot. The unlucky Rupert was stripped of his
jewels and thrown into prison, where he was lying, sad and miserable,
all the time his little girl was thinking how strange it was that he
came not as he had promised.
* * * * *
But, as spring drew near, Rosebud gave up all her thinking and her
wondering, and began hoping. She hoped the weather would be mild, hoped
granny would let her have a garden, hoped the dog would not bite, hoped
the gardener would not refuse the seeds, hoped every one would come up,
hoped the high winds would not blow them over, hoped the plants would
bud, and the buds would blossom, and the blossoms would look lovely,
smell sweet, and delight everybody.
The snow now began to melt, and the grass to spring up in the fields
above the beach. Leaves came out upon the trees,--red at first, and
tender, but soon so bright and green that the birds came back to build
among them. The days grew longer, the sun shone higher in the heavens
at noonday. The fishermen again launched their boats upon the waters,
now no longer dark and ice-bound, but brightly blue, sparkling in the
sunlight.
The planting season had come. There was no need of longer putting off
their grand project. The ground was already soft. Myrtle thought it
better not to ask granny, lest she should say no, but to work in the
very early mornings, before the others were stirring. This would not
interfere with their daily tasks.
They dug up the ground, and brought basketfuls of soil from beyond the
beach; for the hut stood in a barren, sandy spot.
The dog did not bite; he was chained. The gardener was a rough man.
When he saw Rosebud coming, he caught up his stick, and cried, “Be off!
you--”
But when he looked down into her gentle, pleading face, as it was
upturned to him, he left the sentence unfinished, and said, quite
mildly, “Do you want anything of me?”
“Please, sir, some flower-seeds, for my garden, sir,” said Rosebud.
“Humph!” cried he. “And what will you pay?”
“I will pay you two shell-baskets,” said Rosebud,--“a pink and a white
shell-basket; and here they are,”--for she had made them that morning
to bring.
“Ha!” cried he. “These will please my wife! Here, take the seeds.”
And he gave Rosebud her apron full.
And when Myrtle returned with the old fisherman, who had before dawn
taken him off to fish in his boat, she ran down to meet him, and to
display all these treasures. And long the two sat together upon the
rocks, gazing with wonder at the tiny atoms from which such beautiful
things were to grow.
The garden was once more dug over, and its surface smoothed. And by the
next fine day their seeds were snug in the ground, waiting patiently,
as seeds do always, for their time to come up.
Now that the snow was gone and the weather mild, the children of the
shore could pat along on the sands again; and, hearing of the wonderful
garden, they came often to the hut, to watch the planting of the seeds,
and to see what might happen next.
There was great joy, therefore, along the shore, when the first pale,
tender sprouts appeared above the ground, and all came running to see.
For never before had there been a flower-bed upon the beach. And as for
Rosebud and Myrtle, they could hardly bear to be a single hour away,
lest some little green stranger should come to town in their absence.
Those were the days when the pewter platters got but few scrubbings,
and when the broom came to but little wear; when the pretty shells were
neglected, and the drift-wood was tumbled hastily into the baskets.
O, when would the flowers come? What color? How large? Fragrant? Would
they last?
“’Twill be a pity to pluck them,” said Rosebud, “after they have taken
so much pains to grow.”
“But then they would die on the stalk, you know,” said Myrtle.
And it was therefore agreed that the flowers should be cut off, no
matter how lovely.
And many sick people might have been cheered by them, and many a dark
room brightened, had not something happened to prevent it all. It was a
strange adventure, this that happened to our Rosebud, and should have a
chapter by itself.