NELLY hurried homewards, with her mind curiously agitated. She could
not tell whether she were more pleased at finding and renewing her
acquaintance with Miss Powell, or mortified at her want of success in
learning the work her friends had so kindly tried to teach her.
"But I won't give up!" said Nelly, passionately, to herself. "I'll
never give up till I learn, if I work at it all the rest of my life.
It looks so easy when she does it! Anyhow, I am glad I have got the
shuttle; and it was real good of that lady to give it to me. Wouldn't
it be nice, though, to have such a shop as that, all full of pretty
things, and nice ladies coming to buy them? But I don't see how I am
ever to be good for any thing unless I can manage to go to school. Oh,
dear! I wish I could see my way out somehow!"
Many people besides Nelly have wished the same thing when in
difficulties. Those are happy who, when they cannot, as the saying is,
see an inch before them, are able to trust the love and care of their
heavenly Father and to wait with patience for him to make their path
plain. But this was a lesson Nelly had not yet learned.
When she reached home, the welcome she received was not calculated to
soothe her troubled spirit. It is but doing Granny Ryan justice to
say that she was usually very good-natured. But she had been watching
the cow ever since Nelly went away, and had fallen asleep upon her
post, and the faithless animal, taking a base advantage of her owner's
drowsiness, had wandered off to parts unknown. It was a serious
misfortune; for there was great danger that the cow would be taken up
and put into the pound, in which case it would cost Mrs. Ryan a long
walk and a dollar to get her out. It is, therefore, no great wonder
that granny's temper was somewhat disturbed.
"Ye little sorrow!" she exclaimed, wrathfully, as soon as Nelly
appeared. "Where have ye been all this time, and me breaking my heart
entirely with watching the baste of a cow, that has run away after
all, and got took up by the police, very likely, and you hanging about
the street, following your own pleasure, and leaving your poor old
granny to kill herself entirely doing your work? What do you mane, you
ungrateful little crater?"
"How did she run away, and you watching her all the time?" said Nelly,
mischievously, for she was not at all alarmed at the explosion, knowing
by experience that her grandmother's wrath was seldom enduring. "You
must have gone to sleep, granny."
"Sorra a bit," replied the old woman, "but just dozing a wink with my
eyes wide open. But you may just go and look for her, my fine young
lady, for not a foot more can I stir to-day. So be off with ye, and
waste no more time."
"I want something to eat first," said Nelly.
"Indeed and ye'll not get it, then, till I go to the grocery. How was I
to get any thing, and me watching the cow all the time? Answer me that,
my Lady Eleanor!"
Nelly sighed impatiently. She had intended, as soon as she got her
dinner, to set to work at her tatting once more; and her mind had all
the way home been full of visions of wheels and clover-leaf patterns
and yokes, such as Miss Powell had showed her in the shop. And now she
must let it all go, and run about half the afternoon looking for the
wilful cow. There was no help for it, however; and, swallowing her
vexation as well as she could, she set out in search of the missing
animal. She knew her haunts tolerably well, and pursued her usual plan
of visiting them one after another in regular succession; but no cow
was to be found. Tired and discouraged at last, Nelly sat down on a
stone by the way-side and burst into tears.
"It is always the way!" she thought. "Every thing goes against me. Just
as sure as I try to do any thing, it all goes wrong. Oh, dear! I am so
tired! and I don't know what in the world to do, or where to look next."
Nelly put her hand into her pocket for the rag which represented her
handkerchief, and her fingers encountered the shuttle Mrs. Kirkland had
given her. She took it out and looked at it.
"I have got to rest a little, anyhow, and I might as well be working,"
said she. Again she tried, but with, at first, no better success. She
could make one scollop, but the next would not draw up.
"I will do it," said Nelly, "I don't care if it takes me a month!"
She laid down her shuttle and looked up, clasping her hands behind
her head, and turning her face upward to rest the aching place in
the back of her neck. As she did so, her eyes encountered a pair of
large, mild orbs, surmounted by a pair of crumpled horns, looking
down directly into her face. There was the missing cow! She had, no
doubt, tired of her ramble, and was proceeding soberly homewards, when
she was surprised by the sight of her little mistress sitting by the
side of the road. Crummie and Nelly were on the most intimate terms
of affection and confidence. Nelly never beat or abused her, never
overdrove her or forgot to give her water; and Crummie loved Nelly as
if she had been her own calf. Indeed, the people on the street where
they lived were often amused to see the cow stop and low after the
little girl if Nelly lingered behind for a moment to chat with the
other children; and when Nelly was younger, it used to be a question
whether it was Crummie that took care of Nelly, or Nelly that took care
of Crummie.
"You dear, naughty old thing!" exclaimed Nelly, jumping up, throwing
her arms round the cow's neck and giving her a good hug. "How dared you
serve poor granny such a trick while I was gone, and keep me all this
time running after you? A'n't you ashamed of yourself, madam? Tell me
that!"
Perhaps Crummie's feelings were too deep for utterance. At any rate,
she made no reply, good or bad, to Nelly's question; but bending down
her head as soon as she was released, she began to crop the grass which
grew luxuriantly by the road-side.
"Indeed and that is a very good notion of yours, my lady!" said Nelly.
"The grass is far better than on the common, and I may as well watch
you here as anywhere else." So saying, Nelly settled herself on the
stone and again took up her shuttle, while Crummie went on feeding
placidly beside her. She did not notice that a gentleman passing
stopped to look at her, and then, taking out a square book from his
pocket, began sketching with a pencil. She worked away for some time,
growing more and more intent; and at last, dropping her work in her
lap, she broke into a joyful exclamation:—
"I've got it! I've done it! I've got it right! I've made three scollops
right! I've got it at last! Oh, a'n't I glad, though!"
"What have you got, my little girl?" asked a kind voice.
Nelly looked round, blushing at the thought that she had been
overheard. The gentleman with the sketch-book stood looking down at her
with a kindly, amused smile.
"What is it you, have been working at so hard all this time that I have
been looking at you?" asked the gentleman.
"I have been trying to make tatting," replied Nelly; "and I couldn't
make it go for ever so long."
"You have been very persevering," remarked the gentleman. "I am afraid
my Nelly would have thrown away the work in a pet long before she had
worked such a while as you have."
"My name is Nelly, too," said Nelly,— rather shyly adding, "I suppose
your Nelly goes to school?"
"Yes; she is at Mrs. Birch's boarding-school."
"I suppose she likes it very much?" said Nelly, rather wondering at her
own boldness in talking to the strange gentleman.
The gentleman sighed a little. "Why, no; I am afraid not. She is not
very fond of her books, and would rather play than read the most
entertaining story that ever was written."
"Well," said Nelly, with a sigh, "I believe if I could only go to
boarding-school like the young ladies who go past our house every
Sunday, I should be perfectly happy."
"Don't you go to school?" asked Mr. Lambert (for that was the
gentleman's name).
"No," replied Nelly, rather sullenly, for she felt ashamed to have the
gentleman know that she did not go to school; and then, feeling rather
ashamed of her ill-manners, she added, "My granny can't spare me to go
to school, because I have to mind the cow."
"Does your granny teach you at home, then?"
"No, sir. She says she has forgotten all her learning. But I must be
driving my cow home," added Nelly, rising hastily, for she was afraid
the gentleman would ask her, next, if she knew how to read. "Granny
will wonder what has become of me."
"But you might go to Sunday-school," said Mr. Lambert, walking on with
Nelly. "Your grandmother could spare you long enough for that, surely?"
"I have nothing to wear," said Nelly.
"That is sad, certainly. Well, Nelly, you and I have had a nice talk
together. Will you tell me your name and where you live?"
Nelly gave the information, and the gentleman set it down in his
pocket-book. Then he drew from his pocket two small pieces of money.
"See here, Nelly," said he, as he laid them in her hand, one by one.
"This ten-cent piece you may spend as you please; but this other larger
piece is an Irish coin, made a great many years ago. That is for a
keepsake to remember me by. Keep it, and let me see that you have it
safe the next time I meet you."
"I'll never spend it, the longest day I live," said Nelly, earnestly.
"I'll tie a string in it and wear it round my neck."
"There's a good girl! And what will you do with the other? But never
mind," he added, kindly, seeing Nelly hesitate. "It is yours, to do
what you like with. I dare say you will make a good use of it."
Nelly had already decided what use she would make of her ten cents, but
she did not like to tell Mr. Lambert. She had made up her mind that she
would buy a first-book and try to learn to read. She walked soberly
along, driving the cow before her, till she reached her own door.
Mrs. Ryan's anger, always very short-lived, had altogether vanished;
and she received Nelly with her usual warm welcome as she saw the cow
safe and sound.
"And where did ye find the crater, dear? Sure ye've been away a long
time, and you having nothing to eat all the day."
"She was 'way out beyond the colleges, granny. I sat down to rest, and,
the first I knew, there she was standing right over me. And oh, granny,
a grand gentleman gave me these!" pulling out the silver pieces, which
she had carried, for safety, in her mouth. "He says this one was made
in Ireland, oh, ever so many years ago; and I am to keep it for a
keepsake. But this one is mine to spend. May I have it to spend as I
like, granny?"
"Sure, dear, if the gentleman gave it to you. But what sort of a
gentleman was it?"
Nelly described him as well as she could, the old woman nodding and
making a clucking noise with her tongue. Her imagination was already
seeing in the stranger one of the Butlers of Glengall, come to find out
all about herself and her grand-child and to carry them back to all the
splendours of Kilmane Park.
"Do you know who it was, granny?" asked Nelly, observing all these
signs of intelligence.
"Ta-ta! Never you mind, dear; but eat your supper and get your work.
I'll carry your milk for you the night. I know what I know, and I guess
what I guess. Yellow hair and blue eyes! Yes, yes,—the very moral of
them!" murmured the old woman, as she sought her pails and measures.
"Just what my father was!"
"Pshaw!" said Nelly; "you are just thinking of some of those rubbishing
old Butlers. I wish there had never been any such people in the world;
and I don't half believe there ever were."
It was, perhaps, as well for Nelly's peace that Granny Ryan was making
too much noise with her tin pails to hear this irreverent speech. Nelly
would certainly have had the milk to carry round herself; and so have
lost the chance of sitting down on the door-step and working at her
tatting. She hastily finished her supper, and, without once thinking
of washing her hands, she sat down on the door-step with her work.
What was her vexation to find that she had lost the stitch again!
Nelly could have cried over her own stupidity, and was almost tempted
to give the matter up in despair; but she reflected that, as she had
done it once, there must be a way of doing it again. She remembered
Miss Powell's story of her own experience, and, like her, determined
not to be beaten by a bit of thread. She tried it faithfully, this way
and that; and, after a whole hour of steady application, she had the
satisfaction of seeing her scollops draw up into circles, more or less
regular and firm.
Here was a great triumph! She had actually learned something,—and
by herself, too! It was a triumph, greater than Nelly herself knew.
She had not only persevered and conquered a difficulty, but she had
conquered herself at the same time. She felt very much encouraged, as
she had reason to do; and, as she contemplated her work, she thought,
"If I can learn to make tatting, why can't I learn to read?" She had
already determined that the first day she went down town she would buy
a lesson-book with her ten cents. But here arose a difficulty: she did
not know what book to inquire for.
"Well, Nelly, you did not come after your piece of cake," said Mrs.
Vandake, stopping at the gate as she was passing along. "Did you put
the letter into the office?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Nelly; "but I had to go after the cow the minute
I came home. Please, Mrs. Vandake," she added, "do you know what books
children have when they first learn to read?"
"Why, yes; there are several books. There is the First Reader, and the
Primary Spelling-Book, and a good many others. Do you want one, Nelly?"
"Yes, ma'am; but I don't know which is the right one."
"Are you going to school, then?" asked Mrs. Vandake.
"No, ma'am; I am going to try and learn myself."
"I am afraid that will be hard work, Nelly; but there will be no harm
in your trying. Come over to my house to-morrow, and I will give you
one of Tony's old books that he has done using."
"Thank you!" said Nelly, her heart beating with pleasure. "I know it
will be hard work, but I mean to try."
"And what are you doing there? Making tatting?"
"Yes, ma'am; I am trying; but I don't make it look very nice yet. The
scollops won't come alike."
"You must count your stitches," said Mrs. Vandake. "Make five stitches
and join, and then two and a loop, and then five again. If you are
careful to do so, they will come alike every time."
Nelly followed the advice, and found great pleasure in observing how
neat and regular the scollops looked. She worked away till it was too
dark to see any longer, and then went to bed with a happier heart than
she had known for some time.
The first thing Nelly thought of in the morning was the book Mrs.
Vandake had promised her. She had learned the alphabet and some
words of two and three letters, and she thought she could perhaps
make out others from what she knew already. She resolved to go over
to Mrs. Vandake's the first thing after breakfast. But here a great
disappointment awaited her.
"Oh, Nelly!" said Mrs. Vandake, who was busy making cakes in the
kitchen, and was just in the act of drawing some most tempting
ginger-cakes from the oven, "I declare, it is too bad! You have come
for your book, I suppose; and I forgot all about it. I don't see how I
can look for it now," she added, seeing how disappointed Nelly looked.
"I put all Tony's books away somewhere, I know, for I thought they
might be useful to some other child; but I cannot now remember where
they are. Here are some cakes for you, and I will try and have the book
ready when you come again."
Nelly went away but half consoled for her disappointment by the hot
ginger-nuts with which Mrs. Vandake filled her pocket.
"Well, I don't know what I might do," said she; "but it seems to me
that if I made any one a promise I would try to keep it."
Mrs. Vandake had fully intended to keep her promise to Nelly about the
books. She always did intend to keep her promises when she made them;
but something was very apt to happen which put them out of her head
till the time came for their fulfilment. The something which happened
to-day was the arrival of visitors from the country.
When Nelly brought the milk that evening, she looked wistfully at Mrs.
Vandake as she turned it out, and lingered a few minutes afterwards.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Mrs. Vandake, coming back into
the kitchen and seeing Nelly still standing in the door.
"About my book, please," said Nelly.
"Oh, your book!" returned Mrs. Vandake, rather sharply. "Don't tease
about it, child. I told you I would get it for you as soon as I could;
and you should not ask me over and over again so. Beggars mustn't be
choosers."
Mrs. Vandake would have deeply regretted her words had she known how
Nelly was wounded by them, for she was as good-natured as she was
careless. But she was rather annoyed at being reminded of her forgotten
promise, and, as she was apt to do, she said the first thing which came
into her head, without stopping to think of its effect on her hearer.
Nelly looked at her for a moment, and then turned and went away without
a word.
"Well, I declare, what a glance!" said a young lady who came into the
room just as Nelly left it. "She looked at you as if she would like to
eat you on the spot."
"Well, she had some excuse,—poor little thing!" said Mrs. Vandake, who
did not feel altogether comfortable. "She wants to learn to read, and I
promised to find her an old spelling-book; and this is the second time
I have forgotten it. I will hunt it up to-morrow the very first thing I
do."
"Poor thing!" said another lady in the parlour to her companion; "if
she never learns to read till Almira remembers to find her a book, she
will die in ignorance."
Poor Nelly walked homewards with her empty pails, her lips quivering,
and her eyes constantly filling with indignant tears, in spite of her
best endeavours to wink them away.
"I'll never take a book from her,—not if I never have one!" she
thought. "She did promise twice over to give me a spelling-book, and of
her own accord. I never asked her. And then to call me a beggar! I'll
tell granny; see if I don't! I never begged of her, and I never will.
But I won't give it up. I will have a book some way or other."
This resolution brought Nelly to the house where Kitty Brown lived.
Kitty was at work in the garden, helping her mistress to plant out a
border of blue violets.
"Oh, here is Nelly—punctual Nelly—with her milk," said Mrs. Powers,
looking up. "Go in with Nelly, Kitty, and put it away."
"What does 'punctual' mean, Kitty?" asked Nelly, as she stood waiting
for her pail.
"Why, it means doing a thing at the right time and when you say you
will," answered Kitty. "Mrs. Powers calls you punctual because she says
you always come when you promise. You don't say you will, and then
disappoint her. I heard her say, the other day, that it was a good
thing about you."
"Well, I mean to be," said Nelly. "I know it provokes me when
people promise to do things for me, and then forget. It makes me
just hopping." And she went on to tell her friend all about the
spelling-book, concluding with,—
"Now, wasn't it mean, Kitty, to call me a beggar, when I never asked
her for the book?"
"I don't believe she meant to call you a beggar, Nelly," said Kitty.
"It is just a saying people have; that is all."
"She needn't have said it to me, anyhow," said Nelly, not altogether
pleased with what she thought a want of sympathy on Kitty's part.
"No; it wasn't polite. But Nelly, I wouldn't lay it up, if I were
you. She is a real good-natured woman, after all. Don't you know
how she used to give us flowers last summer? But what do you want a
spelling-book for, Nelly?"
"I want to try and learn to read," said Nelly. "I thought if I had a
book perhaps I could get some one to help me now and then."
"Why, yes; you could bring your book round here when you came with the
milk, and I could tell you the words, you know, and then you could be
studying them over between-times. But Nelly, how much money have you
got?"
"Only ten cents. Won't that be enough?"
"It would buy a primer; but I don't think it will buy a primary
spelling-book, which would be the best for you," said Kitty, dubiously.
"But I know what you can do, Nelly. When you go to get your book, ask
for a second-hand one. They have them, I know, for people are always
changing; and I dare say you could get a nice book for your ten cents."
"I wish I had the name written down," said Nelly.
"I will ask Mrs. Powers to write it for you," said. Kitty. She found
a pencil and a piece of paper, which she carried out to Mrs. Powers
in the garden, and presently returned. "Here it is," said she, "all
written out plain:—'Sanders's Primary Spelling-Book, second-hand copy.'
Don't Mrs. Powers write a pretty hand?"
"It looks real pretty and plain," said Nelly. "Well, good-night, Kitty,
and thank you very much."
"And Nelly," said Kitty, detaining her friend a moment, "if I was
you, I wouldn't mind Mrs. Vandake. Forgive and forget, you know. And
besides, Nelly," she added, seeing a dubious expression in Nelly's
face, "the Bible says we ought to forgive people who offend us, or else
God won't forgive us; and then what should we do? Because, you know, we
all do wrong things."
"Is that really in the Bible?" asked Nelly. "Then it must be true, of
course. How nice it must be to read it! I have thought about what you
read about heaven ever since. Will you read me more some day?"
"Yes, indeed," replied Kitty. "I will read all you want next Sunday."
And, with a warm kiss, the little friends parted.
"Mother needn't be afraid of Nelly's hurting me," thought Kitty, as she
returned to her planting. "She is a great deal better than I am."