Mrs. Bates sat alone in the quiet room, sewing all the day, while Nannie
was at school. It was so very still that it was oppressive to her.
Winnie's cradle occupied the same spot as when the babe was in it--she
could not put it out of sight; and the little garments hung about the
room on the pegs in the corners. The wintry sun came faintly in and
shone upon the pillow of the tiny bed, and the mother, ever and anon,
cast her tearful glances to the spot that was consecrated by the
sweetest of memories. A rag-baby, that had shared Winnie's affections as
well as her pillow, still lay within the sheets, as the child's hands
had often placed it. The tin cup and spoon were upon the mantle, and the
playthings were gathered into an old willow basket, their wonted
receptacle when Winnie was there to use them. How often had she pulled
them, one by one, from their resting-place, and then restored them with
an untiring interest, only needing occasionally an encouraging glance
from mother to keep her contented by the hour together! It seemed to
Mrs. Bates as if she must still look up from her needle to give the
child some frequent sign of her care and love, but as her eye fell upon
the vacant space, it was almost too much for the overcharged heart, and
it required all her energies to master her grief sufficiently to keep
about her accustomed duties.
The poor have little leisure to nurse their sorrows: there was Nannie
left to toil for, and it was unfitting her for her necessary labors to
give vent to the rising anguish, therefore she choked back the bitter
sighs and tears, and plied her needle diligently, trying to think only
of the mercies left her. She had still plenty of work. It was wonderful
how many friends Mr. Bond had who could supply her with employment.
There were little dresses, and pinafores, and numerous other small
articles of clothing, always ready for her. She did not know how many a
needy household owed its replenishing to this same stock of ready-made
clothing which good Mr. Bond kept constantly on hand. He did not wait to
see whether such and such a thing would be needed before he had it made,
but wherever he found a ragged child he sent a suit from his
well-stocked wardrobe, and an abundant blessing flowed back upon him,
repaying him an hundredfold for clothing the naked and destitute.
Mrs. Kinalden once in awhile caught sight of the miniature suits through
the brown paper envelops that, somehow, got torn on their way to the
batchelor's room, and her indignation knew no bounds.
"It's a shame and a disgrace," said she to herself, "that he should
tarnish my house with such things, and then have the boldness to look me
in the face!" But luckily for her, she only said it to herself, and Mr.
Bond, conscious of his own integrity, kept on his even way, scattering
blessings wherever he went, and never imagining that his very Christian
deeds were the occasion of many an unjust query on the part of his
curious and suspicious landlady.
She, poor soul! fumed and fretted inwardly until the gloss and shine
were quite gone from her widowed cheeks, leaving them really sallow and
wrinkled. There's nothing like a contented, happy disposition, Mrs.
Kinalden, to preserve one's youth and beauty. You need not brush up your
fading charms before your tell-tale mirror, and try to restore your lost
luster by artificial means; it won't effect any thing. The fact is, the
trouble is internal. You must cleanse first the inner man of the heart,
and you will be surprised at the reflection of your own face then, it
will change into such a mysterious winsomeness! Never mind Mr. Bond's
actions--they can not lie at your door, but take care that your own are
as free from taint as your inexplicable neighbor's. It is not for you to
see the hidden motives that govern those about you; the best way for you
is to think favorably of every body, and you have no idea how much peace
and comfort it will bring to your own soul.
Mrs. Bates had never dreamed of questioning her benefactor's deeds, they
showed their uprightness upon the very face of them, and she had no
fellowship with her gossiping neighbors, to whose flings she could not
always be deaf. Mrs. Flin began to be more social, much to her regret,
for she had little sympathy with her loquacious guest. What was it to
her if the Airly's did keep a span, and drive out every day? she was
willing Mrs. Flin's friends should accumulate riches, and enjoy them,
too, if she did live in an humble attic, and stitch from morn till night
for her daily bread. What if Mrs. Airly had a new silk, spring and fall,
and was getting in with such good society? It did not make her a whit
the less thankful for her scanty yet neat wardrobe, nor for the few
friends it was her fortune to possess. She didn't mind if Master Sammy
was to go to a select school! She had all confidence in Mr. Bond's
judgment concerning Nannie, and rejoiced that she could feel so easy as
to the child's moral culture. She didn't care for Mrs. Flin's foolish
prattle about her great acquaintances, and her own future anticipations
of a higher station. It was not half of it that she heard; but if one
sly innuendo was sent at the good man to whom she was so much indebted,
there was a determined look that cowed the slanderous tongue before it
could speak out its full meaning. Oh! what a relief was it to the poor
widow to see the last of Mrs. Flin's bombazine gown floating out the
door, and to be sure that she was free from a repetition of the
annoyance of her company, for the day at least.
The thought of her angel child, and the solitude of her quiet home
accorded better with her sad and contemplative mood, than the foolish
clatter of her simple neighbor's gossiping member, and right glad was
she that her acquaintance extended no further than to her kind
benefactor, and to the noble and honest Pat.