Bessie and Her Friends

They both ran to the head of the stairs, where Jennie peeped over the balusters.

"It is her!" she whispered to Maggie. "I am just as sure, as sure. She is all dressed up nice to-day, and the other day she had on an old water-proof cloak, and a great big umbrella, and she didn't look so nice. But she's the very same."

"Let's go down and tell mamma, and see what she says," said Maggie, as the front-door closed after Aunt Patty.

Away they both rushed to the parlor; but when Jennie saw the ladies, she was rather abashed and hung back a little, while Maggie broke forth with, "Mamma, I have the greatest piece of astonishment to tell you, you ever heard. Jennie says she is quite sure Aunt Patty is the woman who put the money in the Bible and paid Dr. Dawson. But, mamma, it can't be; can it? Aunt Patty is quite too dog-in-the-mangery; is she not?"

"Maggie, dear," said her mother, "that is not a proper way for you to speak of your aunt, nor do I think it is just as you say. What do you mean by that?"

"Why, mamma, you know the dog in the manger could not eat the hay himself, and would not let the oxen eat it; and Aunt Patty would not buy the grove, or tell papa what was the reason; so was she not like the dog in the manger?"

"Not at all," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling at Maggie's reasoning. "The two cases are not at all alike. As you say, the dog would not let the hungry oxen eat the hay he could not use himself, but because Aunt Patty did not choose to buy the grove, we have no right to suppose she would not make, or has not made some other good use of her money, and if she chooses to keep that a secret, she has a right to do so. No, I do not think we can call her like the dog in the manger, Maggie."

"But do you believe she gave up the grove for that, mamma? She would not be so good and generous; would she?"

"Yes, dear, I think she would. Aunt Patty is a very generous-hearted woman, although her way of doing things may be very different from that of some other people. Mind, I did not say that she did do this, but Willie and Jennie both seem to be quite positive that she is the old lady who was at their house, and I think it is not at all unlikely."

"And shall you ask her, mamma?"

"No. If it was Aunt Patty who has been so kind, she has shown very plainly that she did not wish to be questioned, and I shall say nothing, nor must you. We will not talk about it any more now. We will wind up the musical box, and let Willie see if he likes it as well as the piano."

Very soon after this, Mrs. Granby came for Willie and Jennie, and no sooner were they outside of the door than they told of the wonderful discovery they had made. Mrs. Granby said she was not at all astonished, "one might have been sure such a good turn came out of that house, somehow."

XVI

WILLIE'S RECOVERY

Willie seemed amazingly cheered up and amused by his visit, and told eagerly of all he had heard and noticed, with a gay ring in his voice which delighted his mother. It was not so with Jennie, although she had come home with her hands full of toys and picture-books, the gifts of the kind little girls she had been to see. She seemed dull, and her mother thought she was tired of play and the excitement of seeing so much that was new and strange to her. But Mrs. Richards soon found it was worse than this.

"I don't see why I can't keep this frock on," said Jennie, fretfully, as Mrs. Granby began to unfasten her dress, which was kept for Sundays and holidays.

"Surely, you don't want to go knocking round here, playing and working in your best frock!" said Mrs. Granby. "What would it look like?"

"The other one is torn," answered Jennie, pouting, and twisting herself out of Mrs. Granby's hold.

"Didn't I mend it as nice as a new pin?" said Mrs. Granby, showing a patch nicely put in during Jennie's absence.

"It's all faded and ugly," grumbled Jennie. "I don't see why I can't be dressed as nice as other folks."

"That means you want to be dressed like little Miss Bradfords," answered Mrs. Granby. "And the reason why you ain't is because your folks can't afford it, my dearie. Don't you think your mother and me would like to see you rigged out like them, if we had the way to do it? To be sure we would. But you see we can't do more than keep you clean and whole; so there's no use wishin'."

Jennie said no more, but submitted to have the old dress put on; but the pleasant look did not come back to her face.

Anything like sulkiness or ill-temper from Jennie was so unusual that the other children listened in surprise; but her mother saw very plainly what was the matter, and hoping it would wear off, thought it best to take no notice of it at present.

The dress fastened, Jennie went slowly and unwillingly about her task of putting away her own and her brother's clothes; not doing so in her usual neat and orderly manner but folding them carelessly and tumbling them into the drawers in a very heedless fashion. Mrs. Granby saw this, but she, too, let it pass, thinking she would put things to rights when Jennie was in bed.

Pretty soon Tommy came to Mrs. Granby with some long story told in the curious jargon of which she could not understand one word.

"What does he say, Jennie?" she asked.

"I don't know," answered Jennie, crossly. "I sha'n't be troubled to talk for him all the time. He is big enough to talk for himself, and he just may do it."

"Jennie, Jennie," said her mother, in a grieved tone.

Jennie began to cry.

"Come here," said Mrs. Richards, thinking a little soothing would be better than fault-finding. "The baby is asleep; come and fix the cradle so I can put her in it."

The cradle was Jennie's especial charge, and she never suffered any one else to arrange it; but now she pulled the clothes and pillows about as if they had done something to offend her.

"Our baby is just as good as Mrs. Bradford's," she muttered, as her mother laid the infant in the cradle.

"I guess we think she is the nicest baby going," said Mrs. Richards, cheerfully; "and it's likely Mrs. Bradford thinks the same of hers."

"I don't see why Mrs. Bradford's baby has to have a better cradle than ours," muttered Jennie. "Hers is all white muslin and pink, fixed up so pretty, and ours is old and shabby."

"And I don't believe Mrs. Bradford's baby has a quilt made for her by her own little sister," answered the mother.

"And it has such pretty frocks, all work and tucks and nice ribbons," said Jennie, determined not to be coaxed out of her envy and ill-humor, "and our baby has to do with just a plain old slip with not a bit of trimming. 'Taint fair; it's real mean!"

"Jennie, Jennie," said her mother again, "I am sorry I let you go, if it was only to come home envious and jealous after the pretty things you've seen."

"But haven't we just as good a right to have them as anybody else?" sobbed Jennie, with her head in her mother's lap.

"Not since the Lord has not seen fit to give them to us," answered Mrs. Richards. "We haven't a right to anything. All he gives us is of his goodness; nor have we a right to fret because he has made other folks better off than us. All the good things and riches are his to do with as he sees best; and if one has a larger portion than another, he has his own reasons for it, which is not for us to quarrel with. And of all others, I wouldn't have you envious of Mrs. Bradford's family that have done so much for us."

"Yes," put in Mrs. Granby, with her cheery voice; "them's the ones that ought to be rich that don't spend all their money on themselves, that makes it do for the comfort of others that's not as well off, and for the glory of Him that gives it. Now, if it had been you or me, Jennie, that had so much given to us, maybe we'd have been selfish and stingy like; so the Lord saw it wasn't best for us."

"I don't think anything could have made you selfish or stingy, Janet Granby," said Mrs. Richards, looking gratefully at her friend. "It is a small share of this world's goods that has fallen to you, but your neighbors get the best of what does come to you."

"Then there's some other reason why it wouldn't be good for me," said Mrs. Granby; "I'm safe in believin' that, and it ain't goin' to do for us to be frettin' and pinin' after what we haven't got, when the Almighty has just been heapin' so much on us. And talkin' of that, Jennie, you wipe your eyes, honey, and come along to the kitchen with me; there's a basket Mrs. Bradford gave me to unpack. She said it had some few things for Willie, to strengthen him up a bit before his eyes were done. And don't let the father come in and find you in the dumps; that would never do. So cheer up and come along till we see what we can find."

Jennie raised her head, wiped her eyes, and followed Mrs. Granby, who, good, trusting soul, soon talked her into good-humor and content again.

Meanwhile, Maggie and Bessie were very full of the wonderful discovery of the afternoon, and could scarcely be satisfied without asking Aunt Patty if it could really be she who had been to the policeman's house and carried the money to pay his debts; also, paid Dr. Dawson for the operation on Willie's eyes. But as mamma had forbidden this, and told them that they were not to speak of it to others, they were obliged to be content with talking of it between themselves. If it were actually Aunt Patty who had done this, they should look upon her with very new feelings. They had heard from others that she could do very generous and noble actions; but it was one thing to hear of them, as if they were some half-forgotten story of the past, and another to see them done before their very eyes. Aunt Patty was not rich. What she gave to others, she must deny to herself, and they knew this must have cost her a great deal. She had given up the grove, on which she had set her heart, that she might be able to help the family in whom they were so interested, – people of whom she knew nothing but what she had heard from them. If she had really been so generous, so self-sacrificing, they thought they could forgive almost any amount of crossness and meddling.

"For, after all, they're only the corners," said Maggie, "and maybe when she tried to bear the policeman's burden, and felt bad about the grove, that made her burden heavier, and so squeezed out her corners a little more, and they scratched her neighbors, who ought not to mind if that was the reason. But I do wish we could really know; don't you, Bessie?"

Putting all things together, there did not seem much reason to doubt it. The policeman's children were positive that Mrs. Lawrence was the very lady who had been to their house, and Aunt Patty had been out on two successive days at such hours as answered to the time when the mysterious old lady had visited first them, and then Dr. Dawson.

Papa and Uncle Ruthven came home on the evening of the next day, having made arrangements that satisfied every one for the summer among the mountains. Porter's house, with its addition and new conveniences, was just the place for the party, and would even afford two or three extra rooms, in case their friends from Riverside wished to join them. The children were delighted as their father spoke of the wide, roomy old hall, where they might play on a rainy day, of the spacious, comfortable rooms and long piazza; as he told how beautiful the lake looked even in this early spring weather, and of the grand old rocks and thick woods which would soon be covered with their green summer dress. Still Bessie gave a little sigh after her beloved sea. The old homestead and Aunt Patty's cottage were about four miles from the lake, just a pleasant afternoon's drive; and at the homestead itself, where lived Mr. Bradford's cousin, the two gentlemen had passed the night. Cousin Alexander had been very glad to hear that his relations were coming to pass the summer at Chalecoo Lake, and his four boys promised themselves all manner of pleasure in showing their city cousins the wonders of the neighborhood.

"It all looks just as it used to when I was a boy," said Mr. Bradford. "There is no change in the place, only in the people." He said it with a half-sigh, but the children did not notice it as they pleased themselves with the thought of going over the old place where papa had lived when he was a boy.

"I went to the spot where the old barn was burned down, Aunt Patty," he said. "No signs of the ruins are to be seen, as you know; but as I stood there, the whole scene came back to me as freshly as if it had happened yesterday;" and he extended his hand to Aunt Patty as he spoke.

The old lady laid her own within his, and the grasp he gave it told her that years and change had not done away with the grateful memory of her long past services. She was pleased and touched, and being in such a mood, did not hesitate to express the pleasure she, too, felt at the thought of having them all near her for some months.