Bessie at the Sea-Side

  XX.

  _NURSE TAKEN BY SURPRISE._

  Nurse and Jane had taken all the children for a long walk. About amile up the shore lived the woman who took in Mrs. Bradford's washing.Mrs. Bradford wished to send her a message, and told Jane to go withit. There were two ways by which this house could be reached: one bythe shore, the other by a road which ran farther back, part of theway through the woods. About a quarter of a mile this side of thewasher-woman's, it turned off nearer to the shore; and here it wascrossed by the brook, which also crossed the road to the station. Itwas wider here, and deeper, and ran faster towards the sea. Over it wasbuilt a rough bridge. Two beams were laid from bank to bank; on thesewere placed large round logs, a foot or two apart, and above thesewere the planks, with a miserable broken rail. It was a pretty placethough, and the walk to it was shady and pleasant,--pleasanter than thebeach on a warm day.

  Nurse said she would walk to the bridge with the children, and restthere, while Jane went the rest of the way. When Harry and Fred heardthis, they said they would go too, for the brook was a capital placeto fish for minnows. So they all set off, the boys carrying theirfishing-rods and tin pails.

  But when they reached the bridge, they found there would be no fishing.The rains of the great storm a few days ago had swollen the brook verymuch, and there had been several heavy showers since, which had kept itfull, so it was now quite a little river, with a muddy current runningswiftly down to the sea. The tiny fish were all hidden away in somesnug hole, and the boys knew it was of no use to put out their lines.

  "Oh, bother!" said Harry. "I thought the water would be lower by thistime. Never mind, we'll have some fun yet, Fred. Let's go in and havea wade!"

  "I don't believe father would let us," said Fred. "He said we must notthe day before yesterday, and the water is as high now as it was then."

  "Let's go back, then," said Harry. "I don't want to stay here doingnothing."

  "No," said Fred. "Let's go on with Jane to the washer-woman's. She hasa pair of guinea-fowls, with a whole brood of young ones. Bessie and Isaw them the other day, when Mr. Jones took us up there in his wagon.We'll go and see them again."

  Maggie and Bessie asked if they might go too, but nurse said it wastoo far. Bessie did not care much, as she had seen the birds once, butMaggie was very much disappointed, for she had heard so much of theguinea-fowls, that she was very anxious to have a look at them. So Janesaid, if nurse would let her go, she would carry her part of the way.So at last nurse said she might. Then Franky said he wanted to go too,but he was pacified by having a stick with a line on the end of itgiven to him, with which he thought he was fishing.

  A tree which had been blown down by the gale lay near the bridge, andon this nurse sat down with baby on her knee, and Bessie and Frankybeside her. Franky sat on the end of the log, toward the water, wherehe was quite safe, if he sat still, and nurse meant to keep a close eyeon him. But something happened which made her forget him for a momentor two.

  "And I'll tell you Cinderella," said nurse to Bessie, as the otherswent off.

  "I'd yather hear about when you were a little girl on your father'sfarm," said Bessie.

  Nurse liked to talk of this, so she began to tell Bessie of the timewhen she was young, and lived at home in far-off England. Bessie hadheard it all very often, but she liked it none the less for that.Franky sat still, now and then pulling up his line, and saying, "Notone fis!" and then throwing it out again.

  Suddenly the sound of wheels was heard, and looking round, they sawMiss Adams' pony carriage, with the lady driving, and the little groombehind.

  Several times since the day when Miss Adams had teased Bessie, andBessie had called her a kitchen lady, she had shown a wish to speak tothe little girl; but she could never persuade her to come near her.Once or twice, as Bessie was passing through the hall of the hotel,Miss Adams had opened her door and called to her in a coaxing voice;but Bessie always ran off as fast as possible, without waiting toanswer. As Miss Adams passed, she nodded, drove on a little way, andthen turned back. She pulled in her horses close to nurse and Bessie.Baby crowed and shook her little hands at the carriage. It was a prettyaffair, the low basket, softly cushioned, the black ponies with theirbright, glittering harness, and the jaunty groom in his neat livery;but Bessie had no wish to get in it when Miss Adams said, "Come,Bessie, jump in and take a ride."

  "No, thank you, ma'am," said Bessie, drawing closer to nurse.

  "Yes, come," said Miss Adams, coaxingly. "I'll give you a nice ride,and bring you back quite safe to your nurse, or take you home, as youlike."

  "I'd yather not," said Bessie, taking hold of nurse's dress, as if shefeared Miss Adams might take her off by force.

  "You don't know how pleasant it is," said Miss Adams,--"come."

  "I don't want to yide," said Bessie.

  All this time nurse had been looking very grim. She was quite an oldwoman, and had lived in the family a great many years, for she hadtaken care of Mrs. Bradford herself when she was a little girl. Sheloved her and her children dearly, and would have done anything inthe world for them, and if any one brought harm or trouble to hernurslings, she ruffled up her feathers like an old hen, and thoughtherself at liberty to do or say anything she pleased.

  "And she wouldn't be let, if she did want to," she said sharply to MissAdams.

  The young lady looked at the old woman with a sparkle in her eye.

  "I'll take the baby, too, if you like," she said, mischievously; "I candrive quite well with her on my lap, and Bessie can sit beside me."

  "My baby!" said nurse, who seemed to think the baby her own specialproperty,--"my baby! Do you think I'd risk her neck in a gimcrack likethat? There isn't one of them I'd trust a hand's breadth with ye, notif ye was to go down on your bended knees."

  "I'm not likely to do that," said Miss Adams, turning round and drivingoff once more, "Well, good-by, Bessie, since you wont come."

  She had gone but a short distance, when she drew in the ponies again,jumped out, tossed the reins to the groom, and ran back to the bridge."Bessie," she said, "I want to speak to you; will you come over on theother side of the road?"

  Bessie looked as shy as Maggie might have done. "No, ma'am," sheanswered.

  "But I have something very particular to say to you, and I shall nottease or trouble you at all. Come, dear, that is a good child. If youdo not, I shall think you are angry with me still."

  "No, I'm not," said Bessie. "Well, I'll go."

  "Not with my leave," said nurse. "If you have anything to say, just sayit here, miss. You can't have anything to tell this child her old nursecan't hear."

  "Yes, I have," said Miss Adams. "Come, Bessie. I shall not pull yourhair. I want to speak to you very much. Don't you wish to do as youwould be done by?"

  "I think I'd better go; bett'n't I?" said Bessie. "I don't want her tothink I'm angry yet."

  "Sit ye still," said nurse, without looking at Miss Adams. "I sha'n'tlet ye go to have I know not what notions put into your head."

  Miss Adams looked vexed, and bit her lip, then she laughed. "Now, don'tbe cross, nurse. I am not going to say anything to Bessie which you orher mother would not approve."

  "Maybe," said nurse, dryly.

  "And if Mrs. Bradford were here, I am sure she would let Bessie come."

  "Maybe," said nurse again, beginning to trot baby rather harder thanshe liked.

  Miss Adams stood tapping the toe of her gaiter with her riding whip."I promise you," she said, "that I will let her come back to you ina moment or two, and that I will not do the least thing which couldtrouble or tease her."

  "Promises and fair words cost nothing," said nurse.

  "How dare you say that to me?" she said, losing her temper at last."Whatever else I may have done, I have never yet broken my word!Bessie,"--she said this in a softer tone,--"don't think that of me,dear. I would not say what was not true, or break a promise, for theworld." Then to nurse again: "You're an obstinate old woman, and--Lookat that child!" br />
  These last words were said in a startled tone and with a frightenedlook.

  Nurse turned her head, started up, and then stood still with fear andamazement. Finding himself unnoticed, Master Franky had concludedthat he had sat quiet long enough, and slipping off his stone, he hadscrambled up the bank and walked upon the bridge. About the centre ofthis he found a broken place in the railing through which he put thestick and line with which he was playing to fish. Putting his headthrough after it, he saw that it did not touch the water and that justin front of him was the projecting end of one of the logs. Here, hethought, he could fish better, and slipping through, he was now whereMiss Adams told nurse to look at him, stooping over, with one fat handgrasping the railing and with the other trying to make his line touchthe water. The bridge was four or five feet above the stream, andalthough a fall from it might not have been very dangerous for a grownperson, a little child like Franky might easily have been swept away bythe current, which was deepest and swiftest where he was standing.

  "Don't speak," said Miss Adams, hastily, and darting round to the otherside of the bridge, she walked directly into the water, and stoopingdown, passed under the bridge and came out under the spot where Frankystood. As she had expected, the moment he saw her, he started and fell,but Miss Adams was ready for him. She caught him in her arms, wadedthrough the water, and placed him safe and dry on the grass.

  "Oh, you naughty boy!" said nurse, the moment she had done so, "what amI to do with you now?"

  "Nosin' at all; Franky dood boy. Didn't fall in water."

  "And whose fault is that I should like to know," said Miss Adams,laughing and shaking her dripping skirts, "you little monkey? I do notknow but I should have done better to let you fall into the water andbe well frightened before I pulled you out."

  "Franky not frightened; Franky brave soldier," said the child.

  "You're a mischievous monkey, sir," said the young lady.

  "That he is," said nurse, speaking in a very different way from that inwhich she had spoken before. "And where would he have been now but foryou and the kind Providence which brought you here, miss? What would Ihave done, with the baby in my arms and he standing there? I'd neverhave thought of catching him that way. It was right cute of you, miss."

  "I saw it was the only way," said Miss Adams. "I knew he would be offthat slippery log if he was startled."

  "I thank you again and again, miss," said the nurse, "and so will hismother; there's your beautiful dress all spoiled."

  "Oh! that's nothing," said Miss Adams, giving her dress another shake;"it was good fun. But now, when I have saved one of your chickens froma ducking, you cannot think I would hurt the other if you let me haveher for a moment."

  "Surely I will," said nurse; "but you are not going to stand and talkin such a pickle as that? You'll catch your death of cold."

  "No fear," said Miss Adams, "I am tough. Come now, Bessie." She heldout her hand to the little girl, and now that she had saved herbrother, she went with her willingly. She was not afraid of her anymore, though she wondered very much what the lady could have to say toher which nurse might not hear.

  "You'll excuse me for speaking as I did before, miss, but I'm an oldwoman, and cross sometimes, and then you see--" Nurse hesitated.

  "Yes, I see. I know I deserved it all," said Miss Adams, and then sheled Bessie to the other side of the road. "Suppose I lift you up here,Bessie; I can talk to you better." She lifted her up and seated her onthe stone wall which ran along the road.

  "Now," she said, leaning her arms upon the wall, "I want to ask yousomething."

  "I know what you want to ask me," said Bessie, coloring.

  "What is it, then?"

  "You want me to say I'm sorry 'cause I said that to you the other day,and I am sorry. Mamma said it was saucy. But I didn't mean to be saucy.I didn't know how to help it, you asked me so much."

  "You need not be sorry, Bessie. I deserved it, and it was not that Iwas going to speak about. I wanted to ask you to forgive me for beingso unkind to you. Will you?"

  "Oh, yes, ma'am! I did forgave you that day, and mamma told mesomething which made me very sorry for you."

  "What was it? Would she like you to repeat it?"

  "I guess she wont care. She said your father and mother died when youwere a little baby, and you had a great deal of money, more than wasgood for you, and you had no one to tell you how to take care of it; soif you did things you ought not to, we ought to be sorry for you, andnot talk much about them."

  Miss Adams stood silent a moment, and then she said, slowly,--

  "Yes, if my mother had lived, Bessie, I might have been different. Isuppose I do many things I should not do if I had a mother to careabout it; but there is no one to care, and I don't know why I shouldmyself. I may as well take my fun."

  "Miss Adams," said Bessie, "hasn't your mother gone to heaven?"

  "Yes, I suppose so," said the young lady, looking a littlestartled,--"yes, I am sure of it. They say she was a good woman."

  "Then don't she care up there?"

  "I don't know. They say heaven is a happy place. I should not think mymother could be very happy even there, if she cared about me and saw menow."

  "Do you mean she wouldn't like to see you do those things you say youought not to do?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why don't you do things that will make her happy? I would try to,if my mother went to heaven."

  "What would you do?"

  "I don't know," said Bessie.

  "I suppose you would not pull little girls' hair, or tease them, orbehave like a kitchen lady."

  "Please don't speak of that any more," said Bessie, coloring.

  "And your mother thinks I have too much money; does she? Well, I do notknow but I have, if having more than I know what to do with is havingtoo much."

  "Why don't you give some away?" Bessie asked.

  "I do, and then am scolded for it. I drove down the other day to takesome to those shipwrecked people, and the next day Mr. Howard came tome with his long face and told me I had done more harm than good; forsome of them had been drinking with the money I gave them, and had afight and no end of trouble. That is always the way. I am tired ofmyself, of my money, and everything else."

  Bessie did not know what to make of this odd young lady, who wastalking in such a strange way to her, but she could not help feelingsorry for her as she stood leaning on the wall with a tired,disappointed look on her face, and said these words in a troubled voice.

  "Miss Adams," she said, "why don't you ask our Father in heaven to giveyou some one to take care of you and your money, and to make you--"Bessie stopped short.

  "Well," said Miss Adams, smiling, "to make me what?"

  "I am afraid you would not like me to say it," said Bessie, fidgetingon her hard seat. "I think I had better go to nurse."

  "You shall go, but I would like to hear what you were going to say. Tomake me what?"

  "To make you behave yourself," said Bessie, gravely, not quite sure shewas doing right to say it.

  But Miss Adams laughed outright, then looked grave again.

  "There are plenty of people would like to take care of my money,Bessie, and there are some people who try, or think they try, to makeme behave myself; but not because they care for me, only because theyare shocked by the things I do. So I try to shock them more than ever."

  Bessie was sure this was not right, but she did not like to tell MissAdams so.

  "But I am sorry I shocked you, Bessie, and made you think me no lady.Now tell me that you forgive me, and shake hands with me. I am goingaway to-morrow, and may never see you again."

  Bessie put her little hand in Miss Adams', and lifted up her face toher.

  "I'll kiss you now," she said, "and I'm sorry I wouldn't that day."

  The young lady looked pleased, and stooping, she kissed her two orthree times, then took her hand to lead her back to nurse. Nurse wasjust rising from her seat and looking anxiously up at the sky.
r />   "There's a cloud coming over the sun," she said; "I'm afraid it isgoing to rain."

  "I expect it is," said Miss Adams; "I saw there was a shower coming asI drove down the hill, but I did not think it would be here for sometime yet."

  Just then the boys and Jane came running up to them, Jane carryingMaggie in her arms.

  "Oh, nursey!" called Maggie, "it's going to gust. We thought you wouldbe gone home. Why, there's Miss Adams!"--and Maggie stopped. Not onlyshe, but all the rest of the party were very much surprised to seeMiss Adams standing there, and seeming so friendly with Bessie andnurse. But there was no time to say anything.

  There was indeed a gust coming. The edge of a black cloud was justshowing itself over the woods which had hidden it till now from nurse.

  "Make haste!" cried Harry; "I never saw a cloud come up so fast."

  "Quick, nurse!" said Miss Adams; "jump into the pony carriage with thelittle ones, and we will be home in less than no time. Quick, now!"

  Nurse made no objections now to the "gimcrack." She thought of nothingbut how to get her babies home before the storm should overtake them.She bundled into the carriage with baby, while Miss Adams, laughing asif she enjoyed the fun, packed in Maggie, Bessie, and Franky besideher. "Hurry up, now, Tip!" she said to the groom, and giving the poniesa crack with her whip, away they dashed down the road.

  "Now, boys, try if we can outrun the clouds. See who'll be first atthe bend in the road. One, two, three, and away!" and off she went,with Fred and Harry after her, while Jane stood still for a moment inamazement at the pranks of this strange young lady, and then followedas fast as her feet could carry her.

  Meanwhile, on went the carriage with its precious load, nurse, as soonas they were fairly started, wishing they were all out again, and everyminute begging Tip to drive carefully, and not upset them, to whichhe did not pay the least attention. But they reached home withoutaccident, and found papa and Uncle John setting out to meet them.

  It was growing very dark now. The black cloud had covered nearly thewhole sky, and a white line was moving swiftly along the water, showingthat a furious wind was sweeping over the waves. In another minute theywere in the house, and right glad was the anxious mother to see herlittle ones.

  "But where are Harry and Fred?" she said; "and how came you home inthat?" looking at the carriage.

  "Miss Adams sent us," said Maggie, "and the boys are coming with her."

  "And she didn't let him fall in, mamma," said Bessie, "and she is allwet. But she only laughed. She's been talking to me, and I was sorryfor her, and she's sorry 'cause she pulled my hair. I kissed her, so weare friends now."

  "Miss Adams!" said Mrs. Bradford, in great surprise.

  "Yes, ma'am, Miss Adams," said nurse, giving baby to her mother, "andsurely I think she's turned over a new leaf. She's been talking toBessie as tame as a lamb, and making friends with her, and that afterme giving her a piece of my mind. And she saved that boy there (oh, younaughty fellow!) from drowning; for what could I have done?"

  "Saved my boy from drowning!" said Mrs. Bradford, turning pale.

  Then nurse told how Miss Adams' presence of mind had saved Franky froma fall, and probably from being carried away and drowned. Just as shefinished her story, the young lady and the boys came up.

  Mr. and Mrs. Bradford went out on the piazza, to meet Miss Adams, butshe did not mean to come in, nor could she be persuaded to do so,though the large drops of rain were beginning to plash heavily down;nor would she listen to any thanks from Mrs. Bradford.

  "But you are heated with your run," said Mrs. Bradford, "come in andhave some dry clothes. You will be drenched in this pouring rain, andwill take cold."

  "No fear," said Miss Adams, laughing. "The second wetting will do me noharm; nothing ever hurts me. Good-by. Good-by, dear little Bessie." Shestooped to kiss her, and running down the bank, snatched the reins fromthe groom, jumped into the carriage, and kissing her hand, drove awaythrough all the rain.

  "Strange, wild girl," said Mrs. Bradford, with a sigh, as she turnedinto the house.

  "But there must be some good in her, mamma, when she gave up hercarriage to the children, and walked or rather ran all the way here,"said Harry; "and she didn't seem to think she'd done anything at all.How she did scud though! I don't like to see a woman act the way shedoes, and I can't quite forgive her about Carlo and Bessie; but I dothink there's some good in her."

  "Ah, Harry," said his mother. "There is some good in every one, if weonly knew how to find it."