All along the banks of the Connecticut River are little towns consisting
almost wholly of great cotton factories run by water power or steam, and
the cottages of those who labor in them. Windham is one of these towns,
and though perhaps you might not find it on the map, for it is a very
small place, it turns out thousands of yards of muslin and cotton every
year. All around the tall factory buildings are grouped the little red
and white dwellings of the weavers, like chickens around their mother
hen.
Usually these small houses are empty during working hours. All day long
the hum and clatter of machinery shake the walls, and dense volumes of
smoke pour from the tall chimneys.
But one morning everything was changed. The doors of the factories were
closed; no smoke came from the chimneys, and no sound of machinery from
the buildings. Around the cottages men stood in groups, with angry
faces, scowling and talking in low tones. Presently the sound of a drum
was heard. At this the men separated, and forming themselves into a
line, marched off.
About a quarter of a mile from the village was an open field, where a
tent had been erected for the accommodation of travelling lecturers, who
were in the habit of stopping at Windham in the summer-time.
To this tent the men were going when Nelly Austin first saw them. Nelly
lived all alone with her mother in a small house near the tent. She knew
very little of factories or factory life, for she seldom went to the
village, and had no companions living there. So when this crowd of men,
with a boy beating a drum before them, came marching along the road,
Nelly was astonished, and ran in the house to tell her mother.
Mrs. Austin was sitting by the window sewing, and grew very white when
Nelly spoke.
"Mamma," cried Nelly, "look out of the window at that big army of men!
They are going into the tent." As Nelly approached her mother she saw
that there were tears in her eyes. "Are you frightened, mamma?" she
inquired. "Do you think they will hurt us?"
"No, Nelly," answered Mrs. Austin; "they are only men from Windham. They
are dissatisfied with something the owners of the factories have done,
and so have come to the tent to talk it over. They do not want to work
until they have their own way. That is what is called 'striking.'"
"Well, then, mamma," inquired Nelly, "if they only mean to talk, why do
you feel so badly and cry?"
"Because, dear, years ago, when you were a baby, there was a strike at
Windham that ended in a terrible fight, and your papa, who owned one of
the factories, was killed and our house burned."
"How dreadful!" said Nelly. "I am so sorry!" Then she kissed her mother
softly, and with a very sober face went to the door and peeped out.
The orchard wall ran across one side of the inclosure where the tent was
placed. She ran to the wall, and climbing up on top, peeped down upon
the assembled workmen. They did not look at all blood-thirsty. Some were
even laughing; most of them had their pipes in their mouths, smoking. At
a desk on one side of the room stood a man who was talking loudly to
those around him. Every now and then Nelly heard the words "injustice,"
"never give up," "masters and men," but she could make nothing of them.
Week after week the workmen came to the tent, until Nelly grew so
accustomed to their meetings that she scarcely noticed them. But one
day, about ten weeks after their first meeting, when the strikers were
assembled under the tent, they talked so loudly and made so much noise
that Nelly clambered upon the orchard wall again, wondering what was
going to happen. She noticed that there was no pleasant laughing and
talking, as there had been at first; instead of which, the men seemed to
Nelly to be scolding and shaking their fists at one another. She tried
very hard to make out what they were saying, but as they all spoke at
once, she soon found that impossible. But still she sat perched under
the apple-tree, until at last all but two of their number got up and
went away. These two kept their seats until the rest had disappeared
down the road. Then they came just outside of the tent and stood close
to Nelly without observing her.
"I will not bear it another day," said one, looking very miserable and
angry. "My wife and young ones are starving. Can I stand by and see
that? And yet you tell me to have patience!"
"It's all Mr. Willard's fault, Bill," said the other, more quietly. "If
he would give in, all the other owners would follow his example. They
always do."
"Well, then," answered Bill, shaking his fist, "he _shall_, if I have to
kill him myself."
"Go home, Bill," said the other, in a warning voice, "and don't talk
nonsense. It will all come right in time."
Then he turned away, and left Bill alone, scowling and muttering, while
Nelly sat on the wall trembling with fear lest she might be discovered.
When Bill thought himself alone, he drew out a heavy pistol from his
pocket, and Nelly saw him load it and thrust it into the breast of his
red shirt. He then went back to the tent, and throwing himself upon one
of the benches, appeared to fall asleep.
Nelly's fright increased. "I wonder," she said to herself, "if he really
means to kill old Mr. Willard?" Then she determined to be very brave.
What was best to do she could not tell. Finally she said to herself,
"I'll just stay where I am and watch."
Nelly sat with her eyes fixed on Bill for a long time, but he did not
stir until the clock in the Windham church struck six; then he stood up,
and after looking all around, crossed the road and climbed the wall that
inclosed Mr. Willard's wood.
"There!" said Nelly; "now I _know_ he means to shoot Mr. Willard."
Nelly and every one living near knew that Mr. Willard, the richest
factory owner in Windham, walked through these woods alone every
evening, about half past six, to the post-office. Mr. Willard chose this
way to the village, because it was the shortest and pleasantest.
When Nelly saw Bill climb the wall, she knew it must be for the purpose
of meeting Mr. Willard, as the man's home was quite in an opposite
direction; so she jumped down and followed him quickly. As she reached
the upper stone of the wall inclosing the wood, she caught a glimpse of
him hurrying toward the road that led to the post-office. But by the
time she had reached the ground he was gone. So Nelly flew along without
even glancing at the pretty golden-rod and squawberries that gleamed
yellow and red between the trees.
At last Nelly gained the wide road, and looked around. Something red
lying upon the ground attracted her attention. After a moment she
perceived that it was Bill's red shirt, and that Bill himself was
stretched upon the ground behind a large sycamore-tree, and he was
almost hidden in the long grass and weeds.
Nelly stood in the path some time, fearing to pass him, he looked so
angry and wicked. But she had determined to try and see Mr. Willard
before Bill, and so perhaps save his life. At last she heard something
that sounded like a footstep. This made her forget her dread of Bill,
and she sprang past his hiding-place like a frightened hare, and never
stopped until she reached a small rustic gate that separated the woods
from the smooth green lawn surrounding Mr. Willard's home.
From where she stood Nelly could see the wide porch of the brown-stone
house, and presently Mr. Willard himself appeared hurrying across the
grass. When his hand was on the gate, Nelly drew back, for she felt very
timid at what she was about to do.
When Mr. Willard saw Nelly, he put on his gold-rimmed eyeglass and
examined her closely, as though astonished at seeing such a small girl
all alone in the woods, with a very worried expression in her eyes.
"Well," said he, "who are you, little girl?"
"Nelly Austin," she answered, without moving.
"Austin! Austin!" repeated Mr. Willard. "Are you the daughter of Mr.
James Austin that was killed by the mob at Windham some years ago?"
"Yes, sir," answered Nelly, "and I want to tell you something."
"Very well," said Mr. Willard, patting her on the head. "I am listening.
But speak quickly, for it is late, and I must post my letters before the
mail goes out."
"Oh, Mr. Willard," cried Nelly, excitedly seizing his hand and pulling
him toward the gate, "don't go through the woods to the post-office
to-night!"
"Why not?" questioned the old gentleman in surprise.
"Because there's a dreadful man waiting behind the sycamore-tree to kill
you with a big pistol, just as they did my poor father."
"How did you learn this, Nelly?" asked Mr. Willard, wonderingly, and
looking closely at her.
Then Nelly related all she had seen and heard from her hiding-place upon
the orchard wall.
Mr. Willard stood in silence for some moments after Nelly had finished
her story; then he lifted her upon his arm, and said:
"You are a good kind girl, little Nelly, and I thank you. Do you know
that a man values his life more than anything else he possesses, and
that you have saved mine? Now, Nelly, ask me for something you would
like to have for yourself. No matter what it is, you shall have it.
Remember, I am a very rich man."
"Would you really give me anything I ask for?" said Nelly, looking
inquiringly into Mr. Willard's face.
"Yes, my dear, anything in my power. Now would you like a carriage with
two beautiful little cream-colored ponies to drive yourself? Or what
would you like? Speak out, Nelly, and don't be afraid."
"No," said Nelly, shaking her head. "Ponies would be very nice. But
that's not it. What I want would cost ever so much more, I suppose. I
want you," said she, hesitatingly, while she stroked his white beard
softly with one hand, "to please give in to the poor people at Windham."
"What a strange child!" said Mr. Willard, slowly. "And is that all,
Nelly?"
"Not quite," answered Nelly. "There's something more that I feel bad
about."
"Speak, dear, what is it?"
"You know the wicked man in the woods waiting to kill you? Well, he said
his wife and babies were starving. Please don't put him in prison."
"But, Nelly," said Mr. Willard, very kindly, "you know this man has done
very wrong. It is he and others like him who stir up discontent among
the factory people and cause these terrible 'strikes,' which only end in
keeping them idle for weeks, until they grow so miserable that dreadful
crimes are committed."
"Yes, but I want you to forgive them. Some people say they are very
reasonable in what they want this time, and you can do it just this
once. They are so poor and wretched and hungry. Please, please do!"
Mr. Willard kissed her. "Well, Nelly," he said, "I promise. The
work-people shall have their own way, and Bill shall go unpunished. Now
what shall I give you?"
"Nothing, thank you," answered Nelly, slipping from his arms. "I must go
home, for mamma doesn't know where I am. Good-by, Mr. Willard; I thank
you ever so much for your promise."
"Good-by, Nelly. Now kiss me, and take care of yourself until I see you
again."
Next morning when the factory bells rang out, it was known all over
Windham that the working people were to go to work on their own terms.
Mr. Willard had given in. Once more the doors were flung open, black
smoke rushed from the chimneys, the machinery hummed and buzzed, and
busy, cheerful forms could be seen hurrying to and fro.
But a day or two later a meeting of the factory people was called, and
then the story was told that Mr. Willard had yielded, not to the demands
of Bill and his fellows, but to the prayer of a little girl who had
forgiven the men who murdered her father, and who could not be content
to see them suffer.
Not long after, Mr. Willard called on Nelly's mother, and sat talking
with her for a long while. As he took his leave he put a folded paper in
Mrs. Austin's hand, telling her there was something for Nelly. After he
was gone Mrs. Austin opened the paper and called Nelly to her.
"This," said she, "is what is called a deed, and Mr. Willard has given
you the house we live in and the woods you love so much."
"For my own?" cried Nelly, opening her eyes very wide.
"Yes, dear," answered her mother.
"And the rabbits and squirrels and birds and everything in it?"
"Yes, dear, all of them."
I can not tell you all that Nelly said, or how much happiness there was
in the little cottage. After this Nelly and Mr. Willard became close
friends. He called her his "Wood Fairy," and they could be seen almost
every day wandering hand in hand through Nelly's wood.
[Illustration: LITTLE MOTHER HUBBARD.]