Little Nettie; or, Home Sunshine

"Yes, for you. Open it, and see."

So Nettie did, with some trouble, and there tumbled out upon the floor a great heavy warm blanket, new from the shop. Mr. Mathieson thought the pink in her cheeks was the prettiest thing he had seen in a long while.

"Is this for me, father?"

"I mean it to be so. See if it will go on that bed of yours, and keep you warm."

Nettie gave her father some very hearty thanks, which he took in a silent, pleased way; and then she hastened off with her blanket upstairs. How thick and warm it was! and how nicely it would keep her comfortable when she knelt all wrapped up in it on that cold floor! For a little while it would; not even a warm blanket would keep her from the cold more than a little while at a time up there. But Nettie tried its powers the first thing she did.

Did Mr. Mathieson mean the blanket to take the place of his promise? Nettie thought of that, but like a wise child she said nothing at all till the Sunday morning came. Then, before she set off for Sunday school, she came to her father's elbow.

"Father, I'll be home at a quarter after ten; will you be ready then?"

"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson.

"For my New Year's gift," said Nettie. "You know you promised I should go to church with you."

"Did I? And ain't you going to take the blanket for your New Year's gift, and let me off, Nettie?"

"No, father, to be sure not. I'll be home at a quarter past; please don't forget." And Nettie went off to school very thankful and happy, for her father's tone was not unkind. How glad she was New Year's Day had come on Sunday!

Mr. Mathieson was as good as his word. He was ready at the time, and they walked to the church together. That was a great day to Nettie. Her father and mother going to church in company with her and with each other! And when they got to church, it seemed as if every word of the prayers, and of the reading, and of the hymns, and of the sermon, struck on all Nettie's nerves of hearing and feeling. Would her father understand any of those sweet words? would he feel them? would they reach him? Nettie little thought that what he felt most, what did reach him, though he did not thoroughly understand it, was the look of her own face, though she never but once dared turn it toward him. There was a little colour in it more than usual; her eye was deep in its earnestness; and the grave set of her little mouth was broken up now and then in a way that Mr. Mathieson wanted to watch better than the straight sides of her sun-bonnet would let him. Once he thought he saw something more.

He walked home very soberly, and was a good deal on the silent order during the rest of the day. He did not go to church in the afternoon. But in the evening, as her mother was busy in and out getting supper ready, and Mr. Lumber had not come in, Mr. Mathieson called Nettie to his side.

"What were you crying for in church this forenoon?" he said low.

"Crying!" said Nettie, surprised. "Was I crying?"

"If it wasn't tears I saw dropping from under your hands on to the floor, it must have been some drops of rain that had got there, and I don't see how they could very well. There warn't no rain outside. What was it for, hey?"

There came a great flush all over Nettie's face, and she did not at once speak.

"Hey?—what was it for?"—repeated Mr. Mathieson.

The flush passed away. Nettie spoke very low, and with lips all of a quiver. "I remember. I was thinking, father, how 'all things are ready'—and I couldn't help wishing that you were ready too."

"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson, somewhat roughly. "All things ready for what?"

"Ready for you," said Nettie. "Jesus is ready to love you, and calls you—and the angels are ready to rejoice for you—and I–"

"Go on. What of you?"

Nettie lifted her eyes to him. "I am ready to rejoice too, father."

But the time of rejoicing was not yet. Nettie burst into tears.

Mr. Mathieson was not angry, yet he flung away from her with a rude "Pshaw!" and that was all the answer she got. But the truth was, that there was something in Nettie's look of tenderness, and purity, and trembling hope, that her father's heart could not bear to meet; and, what is more, that he was never able to forget.

Nettie went about her evening business, helping her mother, and keeping back the tears which were very near again; and Mr. Mathieson began to talk with Mr. Lumber, and everything was to all appearance just as it had been hitherto. And so it went on after that.

"Well I know thy troubles,
O My servant true!
Thou art very weary—
I was weary too:
But that toil shall make thee
Some day all Mine own;
And the end of sorrow
Shall be near My throne!"

CHAPTER VI.

THE HOUSE-RAISING.[1 - A festival common in America on the completion of a house.]

"In your patience possess ye your souls."—Luke xxi. 19."

It grew colder and colder in Nettie's garret—or else she grew thinner and felt it more. She certainly thought it was colder. The snow came, and piled a thick covering on the roof, and stopped up some of the chinks in the clapboarding with its white caulking; and that made the place a little better: then the winds from off the snow-covered country were keen and bitter.

One morning Nettie went to Barry secretly in his room, and asked him to bring the pail of water from the spring for her. Barry had no mind to the job.

"Why can't mother do it," he said, "if you can't?"

"Mother is busy and hasn't a minute. I always do it for her."

"Well, why can't you go on doing it? You're accustomed to it, you see, and I don't like going out so early," said Barry, stretching himself.

"I would, and I wouldn't ask you, only, Barry, somehow I don't think I'm quite strong lately, and I can hardly bring the pail—it's so heavy to me. I have to stop and rest ever so many times before I can get to the house with it."

"Well, if you stop and rest, I suppose it won't hurt you," said Barry. "I should want to stop and rest too, myself."

His little sister was turning away, giving it up, when she was met by her father, who stepped in from the entry. He looked red with anger.

"You take the pail, and go get the water!" said he to his son; "and you hear me! Don't you let Nettie bring in another pailful when you're at home, or I'll turn you out of the house. You lazy scoundrel! You don't deserve the bread you eat. Would you let her work for you, when you are as strong as sixty?"

Barry's grumbled words in answer were so very unsatisfactory, that Mr. Mathieson in a rage advanced towards him with uplifted fist; but Nettie sprang in between, and very nearly caught the blow that was meant for her brother.

"Please, father, don't!" she cried;—"please, father, don't be angry! Barry didn't think—he didn't–"

"Why didn't he?" said Mr. Mathieson. "Great lazy rascal! He wants to be flogged."

"Oh, don't!" said Nettie: "he didn't know why I asked him, or he wouldn't have refused me."

"Why did you, then?"

"Because it made my back ache so to bring it—I couldn't help asking him."

"Did you ever ask him before?"

"Never mind, please, father!" said Nettie, sweetly. "Just don't think about me, and don't be angry with Barry. It's no matter now."