DAISY'S WORK.
FLOWERETS.
* * * * * *
Flowerets.
A SERIES OF STORIES ON THE COMMANDMENTS.
BY JOANNA H. MATHEWS,
_Author of the "Bessie Books."_
I. VIOLET'S IDOL. THE FIRST AND SECOND COMMANDMENTS $0.75
II. DAISY'S WORK. THE THIRD COMMANDMENT 0.75
III. ROSE'S TEMPTATION. THE FOURTH COMMANDMENT 0.75
IV. LILY'S LESSON. THE FIFTH COMMANDMENT 0.75
V. HYACINTHE AND HER BROTHERS. THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT 0.75
VI. PINKIE AND THE RABBITS. THE EIGHTH, NINTH, AND TENTH COMMANDMENTS 0.75
_The set in a neat box, $4.50._
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
_New York_.
* * * * * *
DAISY'S WORK.
The Third Commandment.
by
JOANNA H. MATHEWS,
Author of the "Bessie Books."
"Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain."
"Let your communication be yea, yea, and nay, nay; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil."
New York:Robert Carter and Brothers,530, Broadway.1870.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, byRobert Carter and Brothers,In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Cambridge:Press of John Wilson and Son.
TO _MY DEAR LITTLE COUSIN_, LULU CHAUNCEY.
CONTENTS.
PAGE I. THE LITTLE FLOWER-GIRL 11 II. A CLUSTER OF DAISIES 35 III. THE DAISY TRANSPLANTED 63 IV. DAISY'S SISTER FLOWERETS 85 V. DAISY AT STUDY 107 VI. DAISY A TEACHER 127 VII. THE SWEARING CLASS 151 VIII. DAISY'S NAME 181 IX. THE LOST FOUND 201
THE LITTLE FLOWER-GIRL.
DAISY'S WORK.
I.
THE LITTLE FLOWER-GIRL.
THERE stood our Daisy. What a Daisy it was too; what a fair, sweetfloweret; pure and innocent-looking as the blossoms over which shebent. There she stood beside her basket of flowers, a little spot ofbrightness and beauty amidst all the dust and heat and turmoil of thenoisy street, on that warm summer afternoon.
It was a street which ran beside a great railroad depot. Porters,carmen, and hackmen were calling, shouting, and swearing; passengerswere hurrying by to catch the trains which were starting every fewminutes; carriages driving up with their loads of ladies and children;and farther down the street were great trucks laden with freight, andexpress-wagons filled with baggage, which the railroad porters wereunloading with a great amount of noise and crash; and amongst it allwas Daisy, standing opposite the door of the ladies' entrance.
But not one of all those passers-by knew that she was a "Daisy,"or that those were her namesakes which she held so lovingly in herlittle hands. Now and then one stopped to buy one of the five or tencent bouquets, so tastefully arranged, which lay in her basket; andalmost all who did so had a kind word to give the child; for therewas something in her look and air which pleaded for tenderness andsympathy. It did not seem that this was her proper place; for evenin her homely dress she looked so dainty and delicate, and moved andspoke so like a little lady, that it was easy to see that she had beenaccustomed to a different kind of life. But all who noticed her, orstopped to buy her flowers, were in such haste that none had time formore than a passing interest in the child, and contented themselveswith wondering and pitying.
Down the street came a lady with a little girl, the latter skipping andjumping as she held her mother's hand. No wonder the little one washappy, and as full of play and merry pranks as any kitten; for she hadbeen spending such a pleasant day with mamma in the city, and was nowgoing back with "such lots to tell about and heaps of pretty things" toher own lovely country home.
"Oh, see, mamma!" she said, as her eye fell upon the other child, "seethose pretty flowers that dear little girl is selling. She is justabout as large as Lola Swan, and _don't_ she look nice and sweet. Won'tyou buy some flowers from her, mamma?"
"You have plenty of flowers at home, dear Lily, and we have about asmuch as we can carry now," answered her mother.
"Oh, dear mamma, but those little brenkays" (bouquets, Lily meant)"would take up such a tiny mite of room, and I want you to buy some forkindness to the little girl. She looks so sorry out of her eyes, mamma."
Moved by the pleadings of her little daughter, Mrs. Ward turned towardthe flower-girl, whom in her hurry she had nearly passed without alook, and asked the price of her bouquets.
"What a pretty pot of daisies! Can't I have that, mamma?" asked Lily.
But at this the flower-girl drew back and put one hand over the pot ofdaisies she held in the other, as if she feared it was to be taken fromher by force.
"I'll ask papa to carry them for me, mamma," said Lily.
"Ho! ho!" said a cheery voice behind her, "so you think papa hasnothing better to do than turn expressman and carry all your traps, doyou? I wonder how many bundles are already waiting in the depot for meto put safely in the cars;" and turning about Lily saw her father, whohad overtaken his wife and little girl.
"Oh! lots and lots!" said Lily, jumping about with new glee as she sawhim. "We bought something for everybody, papa; and I bought a presentfor your birthday to-morrow; but it is a secret. Mamma is going to fillit with ink and I'll put it on your writing-table 'fore you come downin the morning; but you won't ask what it is, will you?"
"Not on any account," said Mr. Ward. "But you must make haste and buyyour flowers, or we shall not find good seats in the cars. So you wantthese daisies, do you? How much are they, my child?"
But again the flower-girl drew back.
"I couldn't sell them, sir," she said; "at least not now, not if,----"
"Oh! they are for some favorite customer, hey? You see, Lily, you can'thave them. Well, pick out your bouquets; we'll hang them about ournecks if we can't carry them any other way," said Mr. Ward. "This isthe little girl I told you about, my dear," turning to his wife, whohad been looking at the sweet, sad face of the young flower vender.
"What is your name, my child?" asked the lady.
"My name is--they call me Margaret," said the child, with hesitation inher voice and manner, and a sudden flush breaking over her face.
"There," said Mr. Ward, when, having paid for the flowers which Lilyhad chosen, he hurried his wife and daughter away; "there, my dear, Idid not say too much about that child, did I?"
"Why no," said Mrs. Ward, looking back to the small figure beside itsbasket of flowers, "there is certainly something very interesting abouther. Her speech and manner, as well as her looks, are strangely refinedand lady-like for one in her position. I wish we had time to talk moreto her."
The flower-girl looked after them and sighed,--a long, weary sigh, asshe watched the frolicsome Lily.
"Most all little girls have their fathers and mothers," she said softlyto herself; "but I don't have either. I wonder why God did take both ofmine away; if He didn't know how lonesome I would be, or why He didn'ttake me too. I don't see what good I can be to Him all alone by myself,except Betty and Jack. But then He knows, and maybe He only wants me tobe patient till He's ready to take me."
But the wistful eyes brightened again, as, having watched Lily and herfriends disappear within the door of the depot, she turned them theothe
r way to see if new customers were coming.
"There he comes," she said, as her eye fell upon a tall,broad-shouldered gentleman coming down the street, "soldier" written inevery line and motion of his figure, from the erect, stately head, downto the ringing, military tread of his firm foot.
"Good afternoon, little woman," he said, returning with a pleasantsmile her welcoming look; "is my wife's bouquet all ready?"
Taking from the corner of her basket a bouquet somewhat larger than therest, and of rather choicer flowers, she held it up to him.
"Thank you, sir," she said, as she received the price; and then, withrising color, added, "would it be too much trouble to carry this to thelady?"
"Too much trouble? No! How much is it?" he said, putting his hand againinto his pocket.
"Oh! sir, I didn't mean that. I didn't want to sell it, but to giveit to you, if you would take it to the lady you buy flowers for everyday. I want to send it to her because you are so kind to me, andbecause--because you put me in mind of--of somebody."
"That is it, is it?" said the gentleman. "Well, I can't refuse sucha pretty gift, so prettily offered. And who do I put you in mind of,pray?"
"Of my papa, sir. You do look like him."
"Humph!" said the gentleman, not much pleased at the idea that he waslike the father of this little poor child, above her station though shelooked. "And these are daisies, hey? My wife will like them."
"General, do you mean to miss the train?" said an acquaintance, as hepassed.
"Not with my own consent, certainly," said the gentleman. "I shallthank you for the lady to-morrow, my little girl."
But as he turned to go, his foot slipped upon a piece of orange-peel,thrown down by some careless person, and he had nearly fallen. He wouldhave been down altogether but for his little companion; but as heinvoluntarily put out his hand, she caught it; and that support, frailand slight as it was, was sufficient to steady him.
Kind of heart, noble and generous though he was, the soldier washasty-tempered and quick, and an oath--a fearful oath--burst from hislips.
"Ah, you were my good angel. You have saved me from a bad fall," hesaid almost in the same breath, but in a very different tone andmanner, as he turned to the child.
His good angel! Ah, yes! More than he knew, his good angel. Thoselittle hands should from this time hold him from falling into the sinof which he had just been guilty.
Years ago General Forster would have been shocked at the thought ofletting such words escape his lips, though even then he was none tooreverent or careful in speaking of sacred persons or things; but inthe bustle and excitement of war he had, alas! like many another braveman, allowed himself to fall into the habit of taking God's holyname in vain. But careless though he might be before men in momentsof forgetfulness, or when his hasty temper got the better of him, heseldom or never suffered himself to use such words before women orchildren; why, you shall learn.
"Why, have I hurt you?" he asked, seeing with surprise her startled andtroubled face.
"No, sir, oh! no," she answered, catching her breath, "but, but"--
"Well, but what?"
"But I am so sorry;" and that she was so was proved, as she covered herface with her hands and burst into tears.
"Sorry for what?" he asked.
She gave him no answer, but shrank a little away.
"Sorry for what?" he repeated, as if determined to know; and the toneof command, which seemed to say he was used to instant obedience,forced her to speak, whether she would or no.
"Sorry for those words you said, sir," she sobbed.
"Those words? What words?" But his question answered itself as itwas spoken; for his wicked words, which but for this would have beenforgotten the next instant, came back to him, and he stood rebukedbefore this poor little flower-girl. He repented already; but repentedonly because he had distressed this simple child, in whom he took somuch interest, not yet because he had grieved and offended the Holy Onewhose name he had profaned.
Still he was vexed too.
"Why, you don't mean to say," he said rather impatiently, "that younever hear such words as those, standing here as you do, half the day,with those rough men and boys about you?"
"Oh, yes, sir!" she said, plaintively. "I do hear such words, often,often. I try not to; but I can't help it, you see; and it makes me sosorry. But I thought those poor men and boys could not know how toread, and had never been taught better, or perhaps they did not knowwhat God had said in His commandments. But I did not think gentlemensaid such things; and I liked you _so_ much."
And did she like him less now? He, the _gentleman_, the rich man, feltthat he could not wish to lose the respect and liking of this littlechild whom he thought so far beneath him, and he was ashamed and sorry.He knew that it was not impertinence, but only her innocent simplicityand truthfulness, which had caused her to say what she did. But to knowthat he was in the wrong and to acknowledge it, were one and the samething with this true-hearted man.
"You are right, Margaret," he said, forgetting how fast the momentswere flying. "_Gentlemen_ should not say such things, especially beforeladies and children. It is bad manners; but I forgot myself just then."
She took her hands from her face and looked up at him. There was anunspoken question in the clear, earnest eyes, and it was plain that shewas not yet satisfied.
"Well," he said smiling at her, "what troubles you still? Let me haveit all."
"I was only thinking what difference could it make, sir."
"What difference could what make?"
"Whether it was ladies and children who heard it, sir," she answeredtimidly. "God hears it all the same, doesn't He? And it can't make anydifference to Him who else hears it."
She looked up as she spoke at the blue sky overhead, and the look andthe words brought to him a sudden sense of God's constant presence andnearness. He had known it well enough before,--that the Almighty Eyesaw him always; that the Almighty Ear heard him always; but he hadnever felt it as he did now. The gentle, timid reproof had gone fardeeper than the little giver had intended, and her hearer felt ashamedthat he had confessed to her that he would pay a respect to a woman orchild which he did not feel it needful to pay to his Maker. He couldmake her no answer.
"_You_ behind time, General?" said the voice of another friend as hehurried past; and the scream of the warning whistle told the gentlemanthat he had no time to lose.
"I'll see you to-morrow. Good-by, my child. God bless you," he saidhurriedly, and rushed away.
But just in time; he was the last passenger, and stepped upon theplatform of a car as the train was put in motion. The jar threw himonce more a little off his balance, and he caught by the rail to savehimself, while again hasty, profane words rose to his lips.
But they did not pass them. What though no human ear should hear; "Godheard them all the same," and they were checked before even the summerwind could catch them; and in their place the angels carried up theheart-breathed prayer, "God keep me from them in time to come."
His next neighbor in the cars thought General Forster remarkably silentand unsociable that afternoon. He would not talk, but buried himselfbehind his newspaper. If the neighbor had looked closer he would haveseen that the General's eyes were fixed, not on the paper held beforehis face, but on the little pot of daisies which rested on his knee.And over the delicate pink and white blossoms was breathed a vow,--avow registered in heaven and faithfully kept on earth.
A CLUSTER OF DAISIES.