The winter was well-nigh gone, and it had brought but little trouble to
Mrs. Bates and her small family until now; just as the new quarter
commenced she was short of funds. Pat was confined to the house with
rheumatism, and his wages had stopped, and of course that stopped the
board-money, for what he had saved went for the doctor and the
medicines, and so Nannie had to leave school and take to the basket
again. It was a pity, for she was making such rapid progress in her
studies, and would soon be promoted, but there was no help for it, the
pantry was quite empty of stores, and it could not be replenished
without means. Mrs. Flin was urgent for the rent, too, and threatened to
let the rooms to more prompt tenants. She forgot that she had never been
put off before, and that good Mr. Bond would be sure to make up all
arrearages on his return from his voyage.
It was not that she needed the money at all, for there was plenty of
silver in her coffers, but she loved to look at the shining bits; and it
did not matter to her if they did cheat some hungry one out of the
necessary morsel. Her ambition was to be equal with the Airlys in point
of establishment, therefore she toiled on to lay up the glittering
heap, and every little while she sat down by it to build up imaginary
fabrics of splendor and show. There was a house to let near her friends,
with the same external marks of gentility, and she was negotiating for
it, and it was to be furnished as nearly like her neighbor's as
possible, and she and Sammy were to emerge from the lowly obscurity that
had so long shrouded them, into the magnificence and grandeur of the
next street. It was for this important step that Mrs. Bates was to be
turned out into the chilly air, with the sick boy and the fatherless
girl. The poor woman would not have stooped to entreat for permission to
remain one moment were it not for the danger consequent on removing Pat
in his present situation; but her pleadings availed nothing with Mrs.
Flin any way, and so they went out, with the weak and suffering boy
hobbling between them, and had their things put in a basement-room,
which they called home again. It was not well for Pat down there in the
cold and wet; and they missed the bright sun, and the pure air, and the
cheering prospect, and altogether, what with the physical troubles
incident to their depression of spirits, and the struggle they had for
bread, they were getting on very ill, when a letter reached them from
Mr. Bond.
"I'm coming on finely, my child," he said--it was to
Nannie--"and look quite like Peter Bond again. The sea-voyage
made me hearty, and a good appetite, freely indulged, plumped
me up to my usual size, so that you would scarcely believe me
the same man who left you two months ago, with the skeleton
limbs losing themselves in the folds of my wide garments. Every
thing is so new and strange to me, too, that I have plenty of
amusement in watching my neighbors; and I often forget that I
am as great a lion to them, until I meet their inquisitive
gaze.
"I should like for you to be here for a little while to get
some of the delicious fruits that are so common and abundant,
and to see the negroes working among the sugar-cane and
tobacco. I can not tell you all I would like to in a letter,
but we shall have very nice times when I get back again,
talking about what I have seen and heard. I send you a few
leaves of plants which I picked while walking in the garden of
the Bishop's palace. They are unlike any you have at home, and
I know your fancy for such things. I want very much to hear how
you are getting along; if you are as attentive as ever to your
lessons and school, and if Pat is doing well in the store, and
if the attic looks just as it used to? and Nannie, you must go
to Mrs. Kinalden's before you write and see puss for me; and
don't suffer for any thing, d'ye hear? I send your mother a
little money to help her along while I am away, for fear the
work has failed. Shall come in June, if permitted.
"Your friend,
"PETER BOND."
The letter brought much joy, as well as the money that could reinstate
them in their old quarters again; but the times were still pinching,
and poor Nannie almost sunk down in the pitiless streets sometimes from
fatigue and exhaustion. She had got very weary one day, and had sold but
few of her wares, when she bethought her of May Minturn's mother, and
wondered if she would buy something for May's sake; so she sought the
house and went timidly in at the basement door. It wasn't Biddy who
opened it for her, but a strange girl who told her they didn't want any
thing; and she had not the courage to ask for the mistress, so she was
turning sadly and despondingly away, when she saw the pale sweet face at
the window and the white hand beckoning her to come up the front steps,
and a moment after, Mrs. Minturn herself admitted her into the hall.
"I thought you were at school, Nannie," said she, looking over the
articles in the basket, and selecting a goodly number, "and that you no
longer needed to go out in the cold and tire yourself with this heavy
thing," and she tried to lift the basket which her delicate arm could
scarcely uphold. "I'm sorry for you," continued she, as Nannie told her
of their misfortunes, "but come in here, I have something to propose to
you;" and she led the way to the nursery where a lovely little girl of
ten months old was amusing herself upon the floor with her playthings.
"Would you like to come and live with me, and take care of Dora?" asked
she, as Nannie stooped to caress the child, "I need Biddy as seamstress,
and you love babies and know how to please them, do you not?"
Nannie looked earnestly at the young child, and as she thought of
Winnie, it almost seemed as if she were back again, and she replied with
tears in her eyes, "Oh, ma'am, it would be so much better than that!"
pointing to the basket, "but perhaps I wouldn't suit you even if mother
will let me come!"
"Never mind that, Nannie," said Mrs. Minturn, "you will suit if you try,
I am sure; and I will give you more than you could get by trudging day
after day with your small wares; so run home and ask your mother, child,
and come to me on Monday, if you can."
"I would like it indeed!" thought Nannie, as she went homeward with a
light step. "It would be quite like minding dear Winnie!"
They had got nicely settled again in the attic, and Pat lay upon his
couch making shadows on the wall with his well arm to amuse himself, for
the hours lagged heavily; and he longed to be tugging at the great bales
and boxes again. He thought it would do well enough for women to be ill
and confined to the house week after week; but he would rather work ever
so hard than to be hived up in one particular spot so long, even with
the tender nursing and care bestowed upon him. It did not occur to him
that he needed occasionally such a convincing remembrance that he was
mortal, which he perhaps often forgot in his accustomed health and
strength. But he came to think of its object after awhile, and the
discipline worked to a charm, making him patient and gentle, and
awakening a deeper interest in the home where there is no more
sickness, so that when he felt himself growing robust again, he looked
back upon the trial with gratitude. It took a great while though to
regain what he had lost, and he had to sit for many a day in the
easy-chair with his swollen feet upon a pillow, before his limbs would
perform their accustomed office. Oh! how glad was he for the power of
locomotion, as his halting feet moved even slowly over the floor; and it
was like a recreation to him when he could walk down to the corner with
the aid of a crutch. But the limbs grew flexible at last, and he went
bounding off to his labors, thanking God that He had not made him a
cripple. The poor old man who hobbles about Broadway upon one leg, owed
many a penny to Pat's rheumatic siege, and Pat acknowledged it to
himself as he lifted his free steps and took the way to the store.