Nellie's Housekeeping. Little Sunbeams Series

"Oh!" said Jane, the maid, much mortified, "Master Frankie, I'm ashamed of you. Mrs. Bradford never expected he'd do that, ma'am."

"No, I suppose not," said Mrs. Ransom, smiling; "but Daisy will be very glad to have you stay, and so shall I."

Daisy was called, as you have heard, and made her appearance in great glee, delighted to see Frankie, and at once inviting him to share her labors, and their reward.

The sugar had its attractions, but Frankie privately regarded the cork business with disdain. Having come, however, with the intention of making himself especially agreeable to Daisy, he did not refuse to enter into partnership; and they were soon seated on the upper step of the piazza, and busily at work.

"Frankie," said Daisy presently, luxuriating in thus having him all to herself, and in this condescending mood, "would you rafer go to heaven, or stay here and sort torks?"

"Well, I don't know as I care much about either," answered Frankie. "I'd rather dig clams. But, then, I'd want you to dig them with me, Daisy," he added, sentimentally.

The proposal was alluring certainly, but it had its objections in Daisy's eyes; and she said, in a corresponding tone, —

"I b'lieve I couldn't. They might think I was a boy if I digged clams. But, Frankie, if I went to heaven wifout you, would you cry?"

"No," answered Frankie, indignantly, "men don't cry about things like that. Maybe I wouldn't laugh much that day, but I would not cry."

Daisy was silent for a moment, then suddenly put one of those startling questions for which she was famous.

"Frankie, if I went in to bafe, and Jonah's whale came and swallowed me up, how could God get my soul out of him?"

Frankie considered for a little; then not seeing his way clear to a satisfactory answer, and unwilling to confess ignorance on any point, he said gravely and reprovingly, —

"That's not a proper question for you to ask, Daisy."

Daisy looked abashed, and said, —

"I didn't mean to ask improper kestions."

"No, I don't s'pose you did, so I thought I'd better tell you," said Frankie. "We'll talk about something else."

"They're all done," said Daisy, meaning the corks, "now we'll eat the sugar."

But the dividing of the sugar proved a difficult matter; for the lump was large and thick, and resisted the efforts of both pairs of little hands.

"I'll crack it with this stone," said Frankie; and, suiting the action to the word, he laid it upon the step and gave it a blow with the stone.

One part of the much prized morsel remained in very good condition, but the rest suffered severely under this violent treatment, and was reduced very nearly to powder.

"Just see what this horrid old stone did!" said Frankie, looking at his work in much disgust.

"Never mind," said Daisy, "you can have the whole piece, and I'll eat the mashed."

The swain made a feeble resistance to this generous offer, feeling in duty bound to do so; but Daisy insisted, and he was so moved by the magnitude of her self-sacrifice that he said, —

"Daisy, I shall make those other girls wait till you're dead, and marry you first, 'cause you're the best of all the lot."

Here Carrie joined them, for she had soon quitted Nellie, telling her that she was tired; but the true reason was that she feared her sister might say something that would force her to confess that she had not obeyed orders about the mice.

But, wherever she went, it seemed somehow as if things would be said to make her feel self-reproached and uncomfortable.

"Oh! but you're a help, Miss Carrie, and your mother'll be proud to see the forethought of you and Miss Nellie," said Catherine, when Carrie brought out her last load to the kitchen.

"What dear, helpful little girls I have!" said mamma, with a loving smile, as Carrie paused for a moment at the open door of the library, not feeling as if she could pass it without seeming to notice her mother, and yet ashamed and afraid to go in. "It almost helps me to feel stronger to see you all so considerate and anxious to do all you can for me."

Carrie smiled faintly in reply; then passed out upon the piazza. She would be safe with Daisy and Frankie, she thought, from speeches that would make her feel guilty and uncomfortable.

But no.

"What shall we do now?" asked Daisy, when the last crumb of sugar had been disposed of.

"Where are the white mice? Let's play with them a little while," said Frankie.

"Down in the garden-house," answered Daisy.

"What a funny place to keep them!" said Frankie. "Let's go and bring them up here."

"Oh, no! we mustn't," said Daisy: "we can go and play wif 'em; but they can't come here, 'cause mamma don't like 'em."

"We won't take them in the house, Daisy, only out here on the piazza."

"No, no," said Daisy, decidedly, "not out of the garden-house. Mamma might see 'em, and they would make her feel, oh! dreffully! I should fink we wouldn't do any fing mamma don't like, would we, Carrie?" she added, lifting her great, innocent eyes to her sister's face.

Carrie turned quickly away without an answer, and was glad when the next moment the two little things ran hand in hand down the path which led to the garden-house.

Carrie was not happy, – no, indeed, how could she be? A great many uncomfortable feelings were in her young breast just then. Jealousy of her little sister, whom she chose to consider more petted and indulged than herself; envy even of her motherless little playmate, Belle Powers; irritation which she dared not show against Nellie, for bidding her take the mice to Catherine; fear that her secret would be discovered, and the doubt what she was to do with the mice now that she had them: all were making her very restless and miserable.

What though she did persuade herself that Nellie had no right to give her orders; what though mamma had never forbidden her to have the mice; what though she did believe she could keep them safely hidden in some place where they need never trouble her mother, – was she any the less guilty and disobedient? And where should that place be that she was to hide them, not only from mamma, but from every one else?

VII.

THE BLACK CAT

"NELLIE, dear," said Mrs. Ransom's gentle voice at the store-room door.

"Yes, mamma," answered Nellie, from the top of a row of drawers where she had climbed to reach some jars from a shelf above her head.

"I think you have worked long enough, my daughter; and I do not wish you to take down those jars. Hannah is at leisure now, and she may come and attend to the rest of the things."

"Oh! but mamma," pleaded Nellie, "if you would just let me do it all myself. It would be so nice to tell papa that I cleared out the store-room entirely, except the very heavy things; and Hannah might be doing something else that would be a help to you."

"It would be no help to me to have you make yourself ill, dear; and papa would not think it at all nice to come home and find you tired and overworked. And it is dangerous for you to be reaching up so high. I had rather you would leave the rest to the servants."

Nellie was very sorry to stop; and for a moment she felt a little vexed. But it was only a fleeting cloud that passed over her face, and almost before her mother could mark it, it was gone. If she wanted to be a real help to mamma, she must do as mamma wished, even though it did not seem just the best thing to herself. It would have been delightful, she would have been proud to tell papa she had done as much in the store-room as mamma herself could have done if she had been well and strong; but it would not prove a real service if she troubled her mother, or made her feel anxious. Nellie did not herself think that she ran any danger of injury; but since mamma did, there was but one thing that was right to do.

"Very well, mamma," she said cheerfully, "I'll come down," and taking the hand her mother offered for her assistance, she descended from her perch.

Still it was with a little sigh that she left her task, as she thought, incomplete, and Mrs. Ransom could not help seeing that it was a disappointment to her.