join in the work of making clothes for the poor little orphans; and
accordingly, when school was over and word was brought that they were
below, she was sent to bring them up to the school-room. Places were
soon found for them among their former school-mates, who were all
delighted to see them; and, as Bessie said, "it seemed quite as if they
were all young again."
Then Miss Ashton had a large basket of work brought in, and took from
it a number of little garments cut out, but not made, which she laid
upon the table before her.
"I have six skirts and six aprons here," she said, "and three calico
bags, which our little orphans must have to hold their lesson-books. I
think we had better give the bags to those who are the youngest, or the
least accustomed to sewing,--Bessie, Belle, and Mabel. Then the rest
may choose, so far as you can, whether you will take a petticoat or
an apron; but as there is more work upon the petticoats than upon the
aprons, I shall think it wiser for those who are not very industrious
and persevering to take the latter, so that they may be sure to finish
their work. Or perhaps the older ones, Nellie, Maggie, Grace, and Dora,
might take the skirts, and let the other five take aprons. As I said
yesterday, the young ladies in the other room will finish whatever you
leave."
All were satisfied with this arrangement but two.
"Miss Ashton," said Nellie Ransom, in rather a hesitating voice, as
though she thought she might be drawing upon herself the disapproval of
her classmates,--"Miss Ashton, I think perhaps I had better only take
an apron. I do not sew very fast, and I might not have a skirt done
in time; and I would rather take the apron, so that I may be sure to
finish it."
"Pooh!" said Lily, "I should think any one might have a petticoat
done in two weeks! No, not pooh, either, Nellie, I forgot that was
not courteous; but then I should think you'd have plenty of time to
make the skirt, and I'm going to take one 'stead of the apron, if Miss
Ashton will let me."
"I will let you," said her teacher. "I told you you should take what
you pleased; but, Lily, I think Nellie is a wise little girl not to
undertake more than she feels _sure_ she can do, and you would do well
to follow her example. You do not like steady work, you know, Lily, and
I should not wish the petticoat to be brought back to me half finished."
"Oh, I'd never do that!" exclaimed Lily. "I see, Miss Ashton, you
think it _probalal_ that Nellie and I will be the hare and the
tortoise,--Nellie the tortoise and I the hare; but we'll be two
tortoises, won't we, Nellie? And please let me have the petticoat,
Miss Ashton. I'll be sure, oh, _sure_ to have it finished!"
Miss Ashton did as she was asked, and handed Lily the skirt; but she
looked as if she were not quite so sure that Lily would perform all she
promised; and though she smiled as she gave the parcel to the little
girl, she shook her head doubtfully, and said,--
"Be careful, Lily, and do not put off till to morrow the task you
should do to-day."
"No, ma'am," answered Lily, confidently, "I am quite cured of that.
I wish you'd let me have two just to see how soon I will have them
finished."
"If you finish the petticoat at the end of ten days, you shall have
some other thing to make," said Miss Ashton, rather gravely. "Nellie,
my dear, here is your apron."
The work was very neatly cut out and basted; prepared so that the
little girls might not find it difficult to do, or give more trouble
than was actually necessary to their friends at home; and each one
opened her parcel and examined it with great satisfaction after they
were dismissed.
"I expect Nellie's will be sewed the best, 'cause she takes so much
pains with every thing she does," said Bessie. "Hers and Dora's will
be, for Dora is industrious too, and has a great deal of perseverance."
"I think mine will be the best," said Gracie, "for I sew very nicely.
Mrs. Bradish told mamma she never saw a child of my age sew so neatly."
"Proudy!" said Lily, "you always think you do every thing better than
anybody else; and you always go and tell when any one makes you a
compliment. Gracie, you do grow conceiteder and conceiteder every day.
Pretty soon, we won't be able to stand you at all."
"Why, Lily!" said Belle, "you're a dreadful anti-politer this morning."
"I don't care," said Lily; "Gracie does make me so mad. Yes, I do care
about being called an anti-politer too," she added on second thoughts;
"but, Gracie, I don't believe your work will be the best. I think like
Bessie, that Nellie's will be, 'cause she sews so nicely; and so does
Maggie."
"Anyhow mine will be done, and yours won't, I know," retorted Gracie,
who always resented very strongly the idea that any other child
could do as well or better than herself. "You always put off and
procrastinate, so that you never have any thing ready at the right
time."
"Well, I'm not going to do so any more," said Lily; "and, anyhow, I'd
rather be Pro than Proudy. It's very, very naughty to be proud, and
it's only a--a--well, an inconvenient habit to procrastinate. And I'm
pretty well cured of it now. Don't you be afraid my petticoat won't be
done; and don't let's be cross about it any more, Gracie."
Peace was restored by her last words; but here were Lily's snares and
stumbling-blocks. Firstly, that she had too much confidence in her
own strength, and was too sure that she could cure herself of this
troublesome habit if she only chose to do so; secondly, that she
hardly looked upon it as a fault at all, and did not think it of much
consequence, except just at the moment when it had brought some great
annoyance upon herself or others.
Lily was gay, light-hearted, and sweet-tempered, and trouble or
disappointment seldom oppressed her spirits long,--all good things and
great blessings in their proper times and places; but she sometimes let
this run into carelessness, and was often disposed to make too light of
her faults and their consequences. She certainly had warning and help
enough in this case, if that were all she needed.
She, Maggie and Bessie, Belle and Mabel all took the same way homeward;
and just before they parted, Maggie said,--
"I have an idea! Would it not be a good plan for us five to have a
little sewing meeting at our house for these clothes, if mamma has no
objections? And it will seem to help us along, and not let it be so
stupid; for I do hate to sew."
The other children agreed that it would be a capital arrangement; and
Maggie, turning to Bessie, asked if she thought mamma would be willing.
"For we better not make too many plans about it till we know what mamma
would say," said Maggie, "or we might 'live in hope only to die in
despair.'"
Bessie thought mamma would be quite willing, but agreed with Maggie
that it would be better not to build up too many arrangements on this
till they knew what she had to say.
"I would like to have asked all the class," said Maggie, "but I do not
think mamma wants a great many children about now; because grandmamma's
house is being painted, and she and Aunt Annie and Uncle Ruthven and
Aunt Bessie are all staying with us, and it makes a pretty large
family,--a lovely large one," she added, with a nod of satisfaction in
the present size of the household.
"We'll ask mamma if we can have a meeting once a week till our things
are all finished," said Bessie; "and we can sew on them between times,
and show each other how much we have done. And it may be a little help
to you in not putting off, Lily," she said, rather anxiously. "I would
be so sorry if your petticoat was not finished."
"Oh, never fear," said Lily; "you are all so afraid about me; and I
tell you, I'm not going to put off any more."
"I am sorry, my daughter, that you took the petticoat instead of the
apron," said Mrs. Norris, when Lily reached home and told her story
of the morning's business. "There would have been more hope of your
finishing the apron, with your unsteady ways about work and duties."
"It is not a duty for me to make this, is it, mamma?" asked Lily,
unrolling the parcel and holding up the skirt.
"Yes, it is a duty for you to do that which you have promised to do, is
it not?"
"Yes, mamma; but I need not have promised if I did not choose."
"No, you need not; but now that you have undertaken it of your own
free will, that makes it all the more a duty for you to finish it in
time. Will you sew on it a little while this afternoon, after you have
had your lunch?"
"No, mamma, I think not," said Lily. "Maggie and Bessie are going to
ask their mamma if they can have us for a sewing meeting at their
house, and I'll wait and see what they say. It will be fun."
Mrs. Norris sighed as Lily gleefully rolled up her work and tossed it
upon the table. This was not a very good beginning.
"Put it away in the large work-box, dear," she said.
"Presently, mamma; I'm just going to tell Nora about it."
"No, Lily, put it away at once. And remember, my darling, that I shall
not allow Nora to finish it for you if you fall behindhand through your
own fault."
"Oh, no, mamma," said Lily, as she obeyed her mother's order; "but I
would have put it away in a minute or two."
[Illustration]
VI.
_BUT NOT PERFORMING._
You will readily believe that Lily's "by and by" was long in coming, as
it had often been before; and this although her mamma and nurse both
invited her more than once to come and begin her petticoat.
The evening brought a note from Maggie Bradford, which was as follows:--
"DEAR LILY,--Mamma says we may have the sewing meeting, and Aunt Annie
says she will take care of it up in her room, which is very kind of
her; do you not think so? When Baby Annie heard us talking about it,
she said, "Me too;" and we told her she should come if she would be
good. Mamma says she is afraid she will be a disturbance, but she
is so cunning that Bessie and I could not bear to tell her no; and
we will be very industrious, even if baby is funny. We make you a
life-member of our society for two weeks, till we have the clothes all
finished; and we will have a meeting every Thursday afternoon. Come at
three o'clock; and Aunt Annie will tell us stories or read to us till
four, while we sew, and then we will put away our work and play.
"Yours respectfully and affectionately,
"MAGGIE STANTON BRADFORD.
"P. S. Bessie says of course you'd never think of such a thing as
bringing 'Pro' to the meeting. We wouldn't believe it of you; but if
you did, we should 'speed the parting guest,' which means to turn him
out as quick as you can."
"Maggie knows so many proverbs and wise speeches, and always knows how
to make a good use of them," said Lily, when Tom finished reading this
epistle to her, she having been in too much haste to try to spell it
out for herself. "Now, Tom, what are you laughing at?"
"Why, I'm sure that is a good joke of Maggie's, and well worth being
amused at," said Tom.
"Oh, yes," said Lily, "she is very smart, and very funny too. I'm so
glad we are going to have the sewing meeting; and, indeed, I don't take
'Pro' with me."
"I am afraid he has paid us a visit this afternoon, Lily," said Mrs.
Norris.
"Why, no, dear mamma; at least, I only thought I would wait till I
heard what we were going to do at the meeting, and not begin before
them. It is nicer to begin all together."
"And I think you will find that all the other children have commenced
their work to-day," said Mrs. Norris. "But we shall see."
Lily's mamma was nearly as well pleased as her little daughter at the
arrangement she had made with the Bradford children, for she hoped that
their example, and the wish to keep pace with them, might help Lily to
conquer her besetting fault in this instance at least; and that shame
might keep her from falling behindhand with her work from week to week.
The sewing meeting being a novelty, and Lily very anxious to "see what
it would be like," she was willing to be made ready in good time the
next day; and actually arrived at the Bradfords' house eight minutes
before three o'clock, which she, as well as the other children, took to
be a decided sign of improvement in the punctuality line.
Belle was there, but not Mabel, for the latter had taken a very bad
cold, and could not come out.
The little girls were soon all settled in Aunt Annie's room, each with
her work; but Lily was rather dismayed, and quite ashamed, to find
her mother's words proved true, and that each one of the other three
children had not only commenced her work, but had completed quite a
good piece upon it. Why, there was a whole seam and part of another
done upon Maggie's petticoat; and she had not yet set the first stitch
in hers!
"Why! haven't you done any on yours yet?" asked Bessie, in amazement.
"Why didn't you begin it, Lily?"
"I thought to-day would be time enough," said Lily, rather sheepishly.
"I'm sorry now I didn't begin it."
"But it's too late to be sorry now," said Bessie, gravely shaking her
head. "Procrastination has been robbing Time again, Lily."
"Never mind, I'll sew very fast to-day," was Lily's answer.
As soon as she had the little girls all busy at their work, Aunt Annie
took up a book, and prepared to read a story to them.
But scarcely had she commenced when the door, which stood ajar, was
pushed open; and "Tootins" walked in, with an air which seemed to say
she was quite sure of her welcome.
And who was "Tootins"? you will say. A kitten?
Well, I believe she was a kind of two-footed kitten; at least, she was
as full of play and frolic and merry ways as any four-footed little
puss that ever called old cat mother. As fond of being cuddled and
petted now and then, too.
"Tootins" was the dearest, cunningest, most fascinating little
two-year-old bit of mischief that ever found out she had ten fingers,
and the number of uses they could be put to.
A mischief! I should think she was! Such restless, busy little
fingers! "Mademoiselle Touche-à-tout" Uncle Ruthven named her. Such an
inquisitive little mind! Such never-tiring, pattering little feet! Such
a sweet voice, and such a crooked, cunning tongue!
When you saw her, you wanted to catch her up, and pet and hug her,
she was so fair and round and dimpled; but that did not always suit
Miss "Tootins." She thought her two small feet were made to be used,
and she did not choose that they should be deprived of any of their
privileges, except by her own free will. So she generally struggled to
be put down again; and, dear me! how sorry you were to let her go!
But sometimes, as I have said, she wanted to be cuddled and petted; and
then she would nestle to you, so dear and sweet, with her sunny head
upon your arm, her great starry eyes fastened upon your face, while
you talked baby-talk to her, or told her simple verses and stories.
Understand you, do you ask? Indeed, she understood every thing you
said; more than you could have believed possible.
Pure pink and white skin; eyes blue as heaven; golden hair; yes, real
golden hair, for when the sunlight fell upon her curls, they looked
like threads of burning gold; shoulders and hands and arms that looked
as if they were only made to be kissed; a gurgling, rippling laugh; and
oh, such cunning, wheedling ways! That is our "Tootins;" otherwise,
Baby Annie. _Our_ "Tootins," did I say? Well, I suppose I must call
her Mrs. Bradford's "Tootins;" but then, you see, I have drawn her
picture from life, and, having before my eyes just such a pet and
darling of my own, it came very natural to say "our Tootins."
But how did she come by such a funny name? you will ask again.
Well, that was a name her little brother Frankie had given her when
she was a tiny baby; no one knew why he did it, but he did, and he
always called her by it; and of late, if any one called her by any
other name, he always pretended he did not know of whom they spoke. And
so "Tootins" had come to be a sort of twin pet name with "Baby," and
little Annie was called as much by one as by the other.
As I have said, she came in as if quite assured of her welcome, for
Baby Annie was accustomed to have her society courted, and rather
imagined she was conferring a favor when she bestowed it upon her
friends. Moreover, she had been promised that she should join
the others on this occasion, why or with what purpose she did not
understand; but she knew that her sisters had talked of Belle and Lily
coming. She was fond of Belle and Lily, and had demanded a share in
their company, and here they were now. This she knew very well, and
so she came in, followed by old nurse, who had her own doubts as to
whether baby would be considered a serviceable member of the sewing
circle.
But "Tootins'" expectations proved well-founded, for she was greeted
with exclamations of pleasure; and after submitting to the necessary
amount of hugging and kissing, she was accommodated with a bench at
Aunt Annie's feet, and mammy told that she might leave her.
But was it really possible that any one thought baby was going to sit
still on that footstool? If so, she soon undeceived them; and the busy
little fingers were, as usual, searching about for what mischief they
could find to do.
First, she overturned Maggie's workbox, and having contrived, during
the picking up of the contents, secretly to possess herself of the
eyelet-piercer, was presently discovered boring holes in her own tiny
shoe. The next thing which took her fancy was a small vase of flowers,
which being within her reach was dragged over, the water spilled
upon the floor and the flowers scattered, before Aunt Annie could
prevent it. Happily, the vase was not broken, for which Miss Baby took
great credit to herself, declaring over and over again that she was
"dood,"--little Pharisee that she was.
By the time that this disturbance was over, order restored, and the
members of the sewing society settled once more in their places,
baby had retired into privacy behind the window curtain; and, being
suspiciously quiet, Aunt Annie thought proper to inquire into her
occupation, when she was discovered industriously taking pins from a
pin-cushion, and sticking them into the carpet.
"Oh, what a mischievous, naughty little girl!" said Aunt Annie. "Shall
I call mammy to take you away?"
"No, 'deed, Nan," was the answer; "Nan" being baby's name for Aunt
Annie.
"Will you be good and quiet then?"
"'Es 'deed," said baby, resigning the pin-cushion into Aunt Annie's
hands, and trotting off in search of fresh pastures.
A large trunk was in the room, the lid standing open; and Miss Stanton
had already called baby three or four times from its dangerous
neighborhood. But the straps which kept the lid from falling back
seemed to have a peculiar attraction for the little one; and once more
she went over to the corner where it was placed, and, taking hold of
one of these straps, would in another moment have crushed both tiny
hands by pulling the whole weight of the lid upon them, had not Maggie
sprung up and caught it just in time.
"You had better call nurse to take her away, Maggie; she is too
troublesome, and we shall accomplish nothing while she is here," said
her aunt, now really vexed. But when she heard this, Baby Annie put up
such a grieved lip and looked so piteous that the other children all
pleaded for her; and Miss Stanton said she would try her once more.
[Illustration: Lily Norris. p. 110.]
"Shall Aunt Annie tell you a pretty story?" she asked, seating the
little mischief in the corner of the sofa, where she would be out of
harm's way so long as she could be persuaded to remain there.
Baby assented eagerly, for she always liked a story; and Aunt Annie
began, the little one listening intently, with hands quietly folded in
her lap, and her great blue eyes fixed on her aunt's face.
"Once there was a little girl, and she was a very good little girl, and
always did as she was told. When her auntie said, 'You must be still,'
she was as quiet as a little mouse, and made no noise. When her mamma
said, 'Come here,' she always came; and when her nursey said, 'Do not
touch that thing,' she never touched it. She did not take the pins,
because she knew it was naughty, and that mamma would say, 'No, no;'
and she did not pull at the flowers, because she knew her auntie would
say, 'Let them alone;' and she did not touch Maggie's workbox, because
she knew she was not to have it. And oh, dear me! why, she never would
do such a naughty thing as to touch the trunk, because she knew it
would hurt her little fingers, oh, so badly! and then she would have to
cry. So every one loved this baby, and said, 'What a good little girl!
Come here, good little girl;' and gave her pretty flowers of her own,
and let her stay in the room, and did not send her away to the nursery."
Here Aunt Annie paused, to see what effect her moral tale was making
on the small listener for whose benefit it was intended. Baby was
intensely interested, and when Aunt Annie ceased speaking, gravely
ejaculated the one syllable, "More."
The other children, who thought this extremely funny, were trying to
hide their smiles that they might not spoil the lesson the story was
intended to convey.
"Then there was another little girl," continued Aunt Annie, "such a
naughty little girl, who would not mind what was said to her. When
her mamma said, 'Don't go to the head of the stairs when the gate is
open,' she would not mind, but she did go; and she fell down stairs,
and bumped her poor little head. And she took the piercer, and made
holes in her new shoes; and mamma said, 'Oh, the naughty baby! She must
sit on the bed with no shoes on because she did such a bad thing.' And
she took the scissors and cut her little fingers, and they hurt her so
badly, and bled. And the pins too, and she put them in the carpet where
they pricked grandmamma's feet; and grandmamma said, 'That naughty,
naughty baby!' And what do you think happened to her one day? She would
touch the trunk when her auntie said, 'Come away;' and the lid fell
down, and cut off all the poor little fingers, and the little girl had
no more fingers to play with, or to love mamma with, or to look at the
pretty picture-books with. Oh, poor little girl! that was because she
would not be good."
Nothing could outdo the intense gravity of the little one's face and
demeanor as she listened to this thrilling tale, and drank in each
word. It was certainly making a great impression, Aunt Annie thought.
"Now," she said, thinking to strengthen and give point to this, "who
was the good little girl who always did as she was told?"
"Tootins," said the baby, with an air of supreme self-satisfaction, and
conscious virtue, which set all the other children giggling.
"And who," asked Aunt Annie, trying to command her own face, as she put
the second question, "was the naughty little girl who did all those bad
things, and was so much hurt?"
"Na-a-an!" shouted baby, changing her air of delighted self-approbation
to one of stern reproof and bitter indignation against her would-be
teacher.
To describe the peals of gleeful laughter which followed this sudden
turning of the tables would be impossible. Roguish Lily went capering
and whirling about the room in an ecstasy of fun and enjoyment at this
capital hit; and all thought it the most excellent joke they had heard
this long time. It would have been impossible to help joining in their
merry peals of laughter, even had not Aunt Annie herself been heartily
amused at the little rogue's cuteness; and baby, finding she had said a
good thing, joined her own rippling laugh to the general merriment, to
which she further added by now saying, "Oh, dear! me so funny."
The laughter and merry voices brought mamma to see what the great joke
could be; and Miss Baby now thought proper to deprive them of her
society, slipping down from her nest on the sofa, and running to her
mother with,--
"Me better do wis my mamma."
"Tootins" always considered she had "better" do whatever she wished to
do.
And now perhaps you will say, What has all this long story about
"Tootins" to do with Lily and procrastination?