IT is small wonder that Nelly forgot every thing,—even her new-found
hope,—and sat down for a few minutes in dumb despair. But she was not
one to give up long at a time, and the training of the past summer had
developed her natural qualities of determination and perseverance.
Presently she began to question her grandmother and to try to get at
particulars. But the old woman would do nothing but cry and lament and
wail, till Nelly's overstrained nerves began to give way under the
excitement. She found her voice and hands beginning to tremble and her
heart to throb violently; and she felt instinctively that it would
never do to give way. She turned and went out.
"Nelly, Nelly!" called the old woman. "Don't be after going away, dear!
Don't desert your poor old granny!"
"I am not going away, granny dear," said Nelly, gently. "I will come
back in a few minutes."
As she opened the door, she found poor Crummie waiting for her drink,
and expressing as much astonishment as a cow was capable of, at the
unwonted neglect.
"Poor Crummie!" said Nelly; "you shall not suffer, at any rate, as long
as I have any thing to give you."
She went to the pump and brought a pailful of water for the cow. The
familiar action did something of itself towards calming her agitation,
as duties performed, however simple, almost always do.
She stood by the cow while she drank, and then went into the little
shed and shut the door after her. When she came out, she had been
crying, and her face was pale; but she was calm and composed as if she
had received new strength.
"Come, granny," said she, cheerfully, as she re-entered the house; "we
must have something to eat, at any rate, even if we are turned out this
very night. I am going to kindle up a fire and make you a nice, strong
cup of tea, and some toast. You will feel better when you have eaten
something."
At first granny resolutely refused to touch any food; but Nelly's
coaxing at last prevailed. She drank one cup, and then another, and
then found out that she was hungry, and ended with making a good meal.
Nelly could not eat,—the food seemed to choke her; but the tea was
refreshing and comforting.
As granny's bodily wants were supplied, her spirits rose in proportion;
and by the time she had finished her sixth cup she was ready to cast
off all her anxiety and believe that something would turn up to make
all right.
"And what if we do have to leave the old shanty? It's only for a while;
and it's not much we shall miss it when we get back to Kilmane, where
they wouldn't have it for a dog-kennel."
Nelly found it hard to repress the impatient words which rose to her
lips at this speech. But she controlled herself, and answered quietly—
"Well, never mind that now, granny. I want to hear just what Mr.
Grayson said."
"Sure I told you what he said. What does it signify? and what could you
do, if you knew,—a child like you? Don't be setting yourself above your
betters, Nelly Ryan!"
Nelly had no intention of setting herself up. But she knew that, child
as she was, she would have to do all that was to be done; and she
persisted till, partly by coaxing, partly by a little mild compulsion,
she succeeded in extracting the whole story. The place had been about
one-third paid for at first; and, since then, Mrs. Ryan had kept along
by paying her interest, and a few dollars in addition, once or twice a
year. But this last year she had not even paid her interest; and Mr.
Grayson, getting out of patience, declared that he would wait upon her
no longer.
"How did it happen that you did not pay the interest this year, granny?"
"Sure I had other uses for the money; and what was ten or fifteen
dollars to him, that's rolling in riches?"
"But if it was his, granny, he ought to have had it. People want what
is their own, if they are rich, I suppose."
"And, if he was a rale gentleman, he'd never think of disthressing a
poor widow for a few dollars. But there's no such gentlemen here as
there is at home in old Ireland."
"I am sure, granny, they do things as bad in Ireland. Didn't you tell
me, only yesterday, how Sir Patrick Byrne used to live in Paris and let
his factor squeeze the people for their rent, and take their bits of
pigs and pull down the shanty over their heads? But never mind that,"
she added, hastily. "No doubt there's good and bad both there and here.
You did not tell me how it was that you didn't pay the money this year."
"And didn't I lay it all out for you, ungrateful child that you are,
for the very clothes that you go to church in, as fine as a paycock,
and me not a dacent rag to my back nor a roof over my head? Answer me
that, miss! And you coming and telling me how the ladies called you a
ragamuffin! A pretty thing, indeed, for you to throw it in my face, and
me turning meself out of house and home for your sake!"
"I didn't mean to throw it in your face, granny. I am sure you meant
to be very kind; and the things were just what I wanted. We won't mind
about that. What did Mr. Grayson say about our going out of the house?"
But no more was to be got out of granny, except wails and reproaches.
"Well, never mind," said Nelly, after a little consideration. "How much
money have you got in the house, granny?"
Granny did not know. It was all in the broken mug on the shelf.
Nelly counted it over, and found there were almost five dollars. She
then examined into the state of the provisions.
"There is flour enough for two weeks yet, besides the meal and the
potatoes, and the great piece of pork Mrs. Ward gave us when she shut
up her house. There is tea enough for you, and you don't want sugar. I
want to take this money, granny, to put with what I have at the shop.
May-be he will let us off, after all, if we pay all we can."
At first, the old woman was utterly opposed to this plan. It was only
throwing it away to pay it to that old miser; and what should they do
if they gave away all their money, forbye the cow, that must have her
food?
Nelly was by no means sure that the cow would not have to go too; but
she wisely forbore to say any thing about that at present. She reminded
granny that the milk-money would be coming in on Saturday, and would
be more than enough to supply all that was wanted, and then dressed
herself to go out again, asking her granny to have an eye to Crummie.
Granny murmured something about Nelly's thinking she knew more than
anybody; but she made no more active opposition; and Nelly set out on
her expedition,—without much courage, it must be confessed, but with a
determination to do her best.
Her first visit was to Miss Powell. The shop was full of people, and
Nelly had to restrain her impatience while Miss Powell sorted worsted,
matched beads, helped people to make up their minds whether they wanted
to work camp-chairs or brackets, and to decide between Persian patterns
and flower patterns, cross-stitch or Penelope stitch, chalk beads or
crystal,—and all the thousand and one things which belong to a retail
fancy-store towards holiday time.
At last, Miss Kirkland caught sight of Nelly's distressed face, and,
going to her relief, whispered to Miss Powell,—
"Do see what that child wants. She looks the picture of distress and
impatience."
Miss Powell slipped out and drew Nelly into a corner of the ante-room.
"Now, Nelly, tell me what is the trouble; for I am sure there is
something serious the matter. But be quick; for you see how busy I am."
In a few words, Nelly told her story, ending with, "I thought I would
see how much Mrs. Kirkland owed me; and, if she would pay me, I would
carry the money to Mr. Grayson. Perhaps he would let us stay on and
make up the rest by-and-by. And, at any rate, it would do no harm to
try."
"No harm, certainly; but perhaps a great deal of good," said Miss
Powell. "Is that your plan, or granny's?"
"Mine," replied Nelly. "Granny is rather for letting it go; but I
can't bear to do that. We have paid so much on it already; and then
the neighbours all know us, and we them, and they are very kind. We
mightn't do so well with the milk anywhere else."
"Very true. Well, Nelly, I will ask Mrs. Kirkland to run over your
account. She is very busy; but no doubt she will make time, as the need
is so urgent. Come down to the desk with me."
Mrs. Kirkland was very busy, trying to be on three different floors
and in six different places all at once; but on hearing the story, she
left all, and calculated Nelly's account, while the child stood waiting
between fear and hope.
"Well, Nelly, how much do you think I owe you?"
Nelly guessed about eighteen dollars.
"More than that, Nelly. I owe you twenty-five dollars and a half:
twenty-two fifty for tatting, and the rest for work that you have done
here in the store."
Nelly drew a long breath. "I did not think it was near so much. I did
not think what I did in the store was any thing. I never expected to be
paid for that."
"But I meant to pay you, my dear. You were a great help to me, and you
did your work faithfully and well. I hope you may do a great deal more
yet. Here is your money."
Nelly could hardly believe her eyes or her fingers as she turned over
the three clean bills,—two tens and a five. She had never had a tenth
part as much in her hands before.
"Now go on and see Mr. Grayson," said Miss Powell; "and do not be
frightened if he is a little rough at first. I do not think he is a bad
man; though he is often hard and harsh in his manners. I would go with
you, if I could. But I cannot be spared; and, after all, perhaps you
will do better alone."
You may guess how Nelly's heart beat as she ascended the stairs which
led to Mr. Grayson's office. A sort of mist seemed to swim before her
eyes as she opened the door and entered; and it was half a minute
before she could distinguish objects. When she could, she saw an old
gentleman sitting at a desk, near an open fire, and busily engaged in
writing. He just glanced round, and, seeing a little girl standing at
the door, he said, hastily,—
"No, no. No beggars here. Go away, child; go away."
"If you please, sir, I am not a beggar," said Nelly, with dignity. "I
came upon business."
"Upon business!" returned Mr. Grayson, laying down his pen and turning
round. "And what may be your business, child?"
"I am Mrs. Ryan's grand-daughter, that lives in College Street," said
Nelly.
[Illustration: "And what may be your business, child?"]
But Mr. Grayson interrupted her. "And you have come to beg your
grandmother off, I suppose?—eh? Wasn't I right in saying you were a
beggar?—eh?"
"No, sir," said Nelly, with a flush of colour in her cheek and a flash
of her gray eyes. "I have got some money of my own, that I earned; and
I thought I would ask you if you were willing to take that, and let us
stay a while longer and try to pay the rest."
Mr. Grayson laid down his pen, and pushed his glasses up on his
forehead to look at Nelly. He might have looked through all his
pictures and not have seen any thing prettier or more attractive than
the neat little figure before him.
"Come here, child," said he. "Don't be afraid. Come; I want to talk to
you."
Nelly approached; and Mr. Grayson turned his arm-chair towards the
fire, and drew her close to him.
"What is your name?"
"Nelly Ryan."
"How old are you, Nelly?"
"Going on fourteen, sir."
"And so you have earned some money? How much?"
"Twenty-five dollars, sir; and I have five dollars more."
"Twenty-five dollars!" said Mr. Grayson, surprised. He had expected to
hear of three or four dollars at the most. "Twenty-five dollars!" he
repeated. "Pray, how could such a chit as you earn twenty-five dollars?"
"I work for Mrs. Kirkland, at the fancy-store on the corner," said
Nelly. "I make tatting for her, and sometimes I help her in the store.
I didn't think it was so much myself, till she told me."
"Tatting!" repeated the old gentleman. "I think I have seen my girl
make something she called tatting. That is the work the ladies do when
they hold a pin in their mouth, isn't it?"
Nelly laughed. She could not help taking courage from this little joke
of the old gentleman's.
"Yes, sir; but I put my pin on my waist."
"But twenty-five dollars seems a great deal to earn in such work as
that, my girl. Are you sure you are telling me the truth, now?" Nelly
did not flinch under the penetrating glance the old gentleman fixed
upon her.
"You can ask Mrs. Kirkland herself, sir. I get six shillings a spool,
and I can make two spools a week, and sometimes a little more. Mrs.
Kirkland has tatting collars worth ten dollars apiece; but I cannot
make those yet," she added, modestly. "Miss Powell is going to teach me
when she gets time. She has taught me all I know, except to read."
"Oh, indeed! And who taught you to read?"
"Kitty Brown, that lives at Mrs. Powers's, sir."
"Oh! So Kitty taught you to read? And can you write, Nelly?"
"Yes, sir."
"And who taught you that? Miss Powell?"
"No, sir. I learned out of Kitty's old copy-books. Miss Powell showed
me a little, though; and I take my copy-book to show her when I go to
the shop."
"I see! I see! Why, Nelly, you must be rather a persevering little
girl, I think."
"I don't like to give up any thing when once I begin," said Nelly. "Is
that persevering?"
"That is persevering," replied Mr. Grayson, apparently much amused;
"and an excellent thing it is. And you say you have got—how much money?"
"Twenty-five dollars that I earned, and five dollars of granny's. And
please, sir, granny would have paid in the summer, only she spent the
money to buy clothes for me to wear to Sunday-school, because I cried
because a lady called me a ragamuffin. I didn't know it till to-day."
"Oh, ho!" said Mr. Grayson. "Well, Nelly, see here. I want to think
about this matter a little and to make some inquiries. You may go home
now, and come here again to-morrow afternoon. And Nelly, you had better
not take your money home, but give it to Mrs. Kirkland to keep for you.
Your house is not very secure, and something might happen. Don't you be
troubled, my girl," he added, seeing that Nelly looked disappointed. "I
mean to do exactly what is right by you and your granny; and, anyhow, I
sha'n't turn you into the street. I dare say I was rough with the old
woman this morning. You see, Nelly, people think that because I am rich
it doesn't matter whether I have my dues or not. So they try to cheat
me; and that makes me angry."
"Granny would not cheat you," said Nelly, rather indignantly. "She
never cheated anybody."
"Good for you, Nelly! Always stand up for granny." He put his hand in
his pocket, and took out twenty-five cents. "Suppose I give you this
for your own; what will you do with it?"
"Pay it to you for the house," said Nelly, slyly.
Mr. Grayson laughed. "That would be hardly worth my while, Nelly. But
what would you buy for yourself?"
"Some tobacco for granny. She is old, you know, and she can't do
without her pipe," said Nelly, in a tone of apology. "I wish she would;
for it makes the place smell so. But please, Mr. Grayson, I would
rather you would not give me any money just now,—not when we owe you so
much. It don't seem fair, somehow."
"Well, just as you like," said Mr. Grayson. "But I think granny must
have her tobacco."
He rose as he spoke, and, taking an empty wafer-box, he stuffed it full
of tobacco from a large jar which stood on his table. "There; give that
to granny. She never smoked any like that, I am certain. You see, I am
old too, and I don't know how to do without my tobacco, either. But it
is a bad habit, Nelly,—a nasty habit. Don't you have any thing to do
with it."
"No danger, sir. I can't bear it," said Nelly, thinking, at the same
time, how strange it was that Mr. Grayson should use it himself while
he condemned it in others. She did not know the enslaving force of
habit and appetite.
"Well, good-by, Nelly. Be a good girl, sleep sound, and come here this
time to-morrow afternoon."
"Well, Nelly, what news?" asked Mrs. Kirkland, as Nelly entered the
shop to deposit her money. "I don't quite know how to read your face."
Nelly repeated all that had passed.
"I think you may be easy," said Mrs. Kirkland. "I know Mr. Grayson
pretty well,—indeed, he is my landlord,—and I don't think he means
you any harm. But remember, Nelly, whatever happens, you have always
friends in Miss Powell and in me. I advise you to go home, make your
house as clean and nice as you can, say your prayers, and trust all to
God."