"Oh! mother," said Nannie, throwing her hood upon the table and brushing
the hair off from her flushed forehead, "school's so nice! Miss Coit's
one of the dearest ladies; and she says I'll be one of her best scholars
if I keep on as I've begun; and we have such beautiful singing, and
Christmas is 'most here, and then we are to have a tree hung all over
with presents for the children! Won't it be grand, mother?" and she laid
her hand on her mother's arm to force her to stop working and attend to
her.
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Bates, "it's glad I am for ye, Nannie; but what's
that in your hand, child?" taking the paper and looking upon the little
curl within.
"Oh! mother," replied Nannie in a sad tone, "it's May Minturn's, she
that loved our baby, and she's gone where Winnie is; and her mother's
such a pale sweet lady! She gave me this, because she said May and
Winnie are as sisters up in heaven."
That was such a pleasant thought to Mrs. Bates. She was too sensible a
woman to wish to do away with the distinctions which are productive of
much good in this life, but it was a happiness to feel that in the
other world, the good and pure could all mingle as brethren; that
despoiled of the external marks of roughness which make so much
difference here, the spirit could appear in its real loveliness so that
it would be neither loathsome nor repulsive. She did not expect those
who were fitted by the advantages of education and refinement for a high
position in life, to stoop to an equality with those whose more humble
stations were wisely allotted them. She appreciated their self-denial
and kindness in seeking out the lowly ones, and aiding them in their
efforts to struggle upward, and no taint of envy or hatred toward those
whom God had chosen to place above her in this world, ever found its way
to her heart. So with a meek and contented mind she pursued her quiet
way, never murmuring because of blessings withheld, but grateful for the
unmerited favors so richly heaped upon her. She had a great deal to be
thankful for! Nannie was in a good way, and Pat was just like a son to
her, doing her errands, and helping her about the wood and water as if
she were his own mother. He had come to board with them now, for it had
grown so bad in his own home, and he had vainly tried to make it
better--so he left them altogether, and Mrs. Bates had a rough couch
constructed, and she covered it with neat print; and there in the outer
room Pat slept. He was up betimes in the morning, and had the fire made
and the kettle on to boil, and then he heard Nannie study, while her
mother got the breakfast ready; and by this means he acquired the same
knowledge himself, for Pat was ready to learn, if he had been kept down
all his life with no culture nor teaching.
His board helped them, and their kindness and affection helped him more
than he had ever been aided since his birth, for he came to think he was
of some consequence to somebody, and this makes a wondrous difference to
a person. It made Pat particular in his manners and neat in his dress,
and it brought a peculiar joy to his heart to know that the house was a
gainer by his coming to it. Mr. Bond had got him a situation as porter
in the establishment of one of his mercantile friends, and his employer
thought every thing of the diligent and honest lad, and gave him good
wages, so that he had a trifle to lay up, besides providing his board
and clothing, and getting an occasional present for Mrs. Bates or
Nannie. It was altogether a very thrifty household now, and Mr. Bond
felt no uneasiness about going awhile to leave them.
He had had a lingering cough ever since his illness, and the doctor
ordered change of air and a warmer climate, and so he must go. It was
very hard to leave his snug room, and to turn away from the silent face
that was ever looking upon him, and it cost him many a serious pang to
give up the care of his favorite puss to the tender mercies of Mrs.
Kinalden; but it would be wrong to tamper with his health, and he must
crush all regrets and disinclinations, and perhaps he might return
sooner than even his physician had hoped. He waited but one
moment--after the carriage came to bear him to the boat bound for
Cuba--to take his farewell of the objects of his deepest regard, and
then went more gravely down stairs than was his wont.
Mrs. Kinalden felt a sort of sorrow as she closed the blinds of his
room, making all dark, and then turned the key in the lock, while puss
preceded her to her own sitting-room, and she bestowed sundry endearing
epithets upon the animal, even patting her back in a friendly sort of
way as she stooped to smooth the rug for her to lie upon. It was
something to miss the step that for years had been heard in the house,
and to see the place that he had so longed filled at table occupied by
another.
Mrs. Kinalden had a heart after all, so you would have thought had you
seen how often the silk handkerchief was applied to her eyes in the
course of that day.