Little Nettie; or, Home Sunshine

Then came November; and the winds began to come into the garret, not only through the open window, but through every crack between two boards. The whole garret was filled with the winds, Nettie thought. It was hard work managing then. Shutting the shutter would bar out the stars, but not the wind, she found; and to keep from being quite chilled through at her times of prayer, morning and evening, Nettie used to take the blanket and coverlets from the bed, and wrap herself in them. It was all she could do. Still, she forgot the inconveniences; and her little garret chamber seemed to Nettie very near heaven, as well as near the sky.

But all this way of life did not make her grow strong or rosy; and though Nettie never told her father that she wanted anything, her mother's heart measured the times when it ought to be told.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER

"How long, O Lord?"—Rev. vi. 10.

November days drew toward an end; December was near. One afternoon Mrs. Mathieson, wanting Nettie, went to the foot of the garret stairs to call her.

"Yes, mother. Coming."

"Fetch down your school cloak, child."

She went back to her room, and presently Nettie came in with the cloak, looking placid as usual, but very pale.

"Somebody's got to go to Mr. Jackson's, but you ain't fit, child; you ate next to nothing at noon. You can't live on porridge."

"I like it, mother; but I wasn't hungry. What's wanting from Jackson's?"

Nettie put on her cloak, and took her basket, and went out. It was after sundown already, and a keen wind swept through the village street, and swept through Nettie's brown cloak too, tight as she wrapt it about her. But though she was cold and blue, and the wind seemed to go through her as well as the cloak, Nettie was thinking of something else. She knew that her mother had eaten a very scanty, poor sort of dinner, as well as herself, and that she often looked pale and wan; and Nettie was almost ready to wish she had not given the last penny of her shilling on Sunday to the missionary-box.

"What do you want?" said Mr. Jackson, rather curtly, when Nettie's turn came to be served, and she had told her errand. "What!" he exclaimed, "seven pounds of meal, and a pound of butter, and two pounds of sugar! Well, you tell your father that I should like to have my bill settled; it's all drawn up, you see, and I don't like to open a new account till it's all square."

He turned away immediately to another customer, and Nettie felt she had got her answer. She stood a moment, very disappointed, and a little mortified, and somewhat downhearted. What should they do for supper? and what a storm there would be when her father heard about all this, and found nothing but bread and tea on the table! Slowly Nettie turned away, and slowly made the few steps from the door to the corner. She felt very blue indeed; coming out of the warm store, the chill wind made her shiver. Just at the corner somebody stopped her.

"Nettie!" said the voice of the little French baker, "what ails you? you look not well."

Nettie gave her a grateful smile, and said she was well.

"You look not like it," said Madame Auguste; "you look as if the wind might carry you off before you get home. Come to my house; I want to see you in the light."

"I haven't time; I must go home to mother, Mrs. August."

"Yes, I know! You will go home all the faster for coming this way first. You have not been to see me in these three or four weeks."

She carried Nettie along with her; it was but a step, and Nettie did not feel capable of resisting anything. The little Frenchwoman put her into the shop before her, made her sit down, and lighted a candle. The shop was nice and warm, and full of the savoury smell of fresh baking.

"We have made our own bread lately," said Nettie, in answer to the charge of not coming there.

"Do you make it good?" said Madame Auguste.

"It isn't like yours, Mrs. August," said Nettie, smiling.

"If you will come and live with me next summer, I will teach you how to do some things; and you shall not look so blue neither. Have you had your supper?"

"No; and I am just going home to get supper. I must go, Mrs. August."

"You come in here," said the Frenchwoman; "you are my prisoner. I am all alone, and I want somebody for company. You take off your cloak, Nettie, and I shall give you something to keep the wind out. You do what I bid you!"

Nettie felt too cold and weak to make any ado about complying, unless duty had forbade; and she thought there was time enough yet. She let her cloak drop, and took off her hood. The little back room to which Madame Auguste had brought her was only a trifle bigger than the bit of a shop; but it was as cozy as it was little. A tiny stove warmed it, and kept warm, too, a tiny iron pot and tea-kettle, which were steaming away. The bed was at one end, draped nicely with red curtains; there was a little looking-glass, and some prints in frames round the walls; there was Madame's little table covered with a purple cloth, and with her work and a small clock and various pretty things on it. Madame Auguste had gone to a cupboard in the wall, and taken out a couple of plates and little bowls, which she set on a little round stand; and then lifting the cover of the pot on the stove, she ladled out a bowlful of what was in it, and gave it to Nettie with one of her nice crisp rolls.

"Eat that!" she said. "I shan't let you go home till you have swallowed that to keep the cold out. It makes me all freeze to look at you."

So she filled her own bowl, and made good play with her spoon, while between spoonfuls she looked at Nettie; and the good little woman smiled in her heart to see how easy it was for Nettie to obey her. The savoury, simple, comforting broth she had set before her was the best thing to the child's delicate stomach that she had tasted for many a day.

"Is it good?" said the Frenchwoman, when Nettie's bowl was half empty.

"It's so good!" said Nettie. "I didn't know I was so hungry."

"Now you will not feel the cold so," said the Frenchwoman, "and you will go back quicker. Do you like my riz-au-gras?"

"What is it, ma'am?" said Nettie.

The Frenchwoman laughed, and made Nettie say it over till she could pronounce the words.

"Now you like it," she said, "that is a French dish. Do you think Mrs. Mat'ieson would like it?"

"I am sure she would!" said Nettie. "But I don't know how to make it."

"You shall come here, and I will teach it to you. And now you shall carry a little home to your mother, and ask her if she will do the honour to a French dish to approve it. It do not cost anything. I cannot sell much bread the winters; I live on what cost me nothing."

While saying this, Madame Auguste had filled a little pail with the riz-au-gras, and put a couple of her rolls along with it. "It must have the French bread," she said; and she gave it to Nettie, who looked quite cheered up, and very grateful.

"You are a good little girl!" she said. "How keep you always your face looking so happy? There is always one little streak of sunshine here"—drawing her finger across above Nettie's eyebrows—"and another here,"—and her finger passed over the line of Nettie's lips.

"That's because I am happy, Mrs. August."

"Always?"

"Yes, always."

"What makes you so happy always? You was just the same in the cold winter out there, as when you was eating my riz-au-gras. Now, me—I am cross in the cold, and not happy."

But the Frenchwoman saw a deeper light come into Nettie's eyes as she answered,

"It is because I love the Lord Jesus, Mrs. August, and He makes me happy."

"You?" said Madame. "My child! What do you say, Nettie? I think not I have heard you right."

"Yes, Mrs. August, I am happy because I love Jesus. I know He loves me, and He will take me to be with Him."

"Not just yet," said the Frenchwoman, "I hope. Well, I wish I was so happy as you, Nettie. Good bye!"

Nettie ran home, more comforted by her good supper, and more thankful to the goodness of God in giving it, and happy in the feeling of His goodness, than can be told. And very, very glad she was of that little tin pail in her hand she knew her mother needed. Mrs. Mathieson had time to eat the rice broth before her husband came in.

"She said she would show me how to make it," said Nettie, "and it don't cost anything."