III.
_LUCY._
Old ocean seemed to wish to make amends, during the last two days ofthe short voyage, for the tossing and rolling he had given our friendsduring the first. It was as smooth as a river almost, and broke itselfup into little wavelets which seemed formed only to sparkle and catchthe sunshine. The weather was warm and summer-like, growing more andmore so the farther south they went; and the children spent the wholeof their time on deck, even taking their meals there: for though Maggiedeclared herself “all right now,” she could not eat when taken below,and it was “such fun” to have breakfast, dinner, and tea, sent up tothem and eaten on deck in such _impromptu_ fashion, that the otherswere only too glad of the excuse of bearing her company. Mamma and Mrs.Norris preferred it too; so they had quite a sociable, cosey time of it.
As for Bessie, she wanted “no better contentment” than to sit watchingthe sea. The sky; the waves; the white sea-gulls, which now and thencame sailing round on their snowy wings; the other vessels they saw inthe far distance, or sometimes near at hand; the huge porpoises whichthrew themselves with a sudden leap and plunge out from the water andback again,--each and all had their charm for her; and, if undisturbed,she would sit for hours, her doll clasped in her arms, gazing her fill,and thinking her own thoughts. Happy, peaceful thoughts they were too,if one might judge by the expression of her sweet little face.
“How my Bessie loves the sea, does she not?” said her father, sittingdown beside her one time when he found her thus absorbed.
“Yes, papa, dearly; but then I love the real sea better.”
“But this is the real sea, darling.”
“But I mean the _real, real_ sea, papa; the true, _very_ sea,” said thelittle girl.
“I do not know how you could have more real sea than this, dear,” saidher father, rather at a loss to know what she could mean. “We are many,many miles from land. You can see none on any side. It is water, water,the real true ocean, all around us, as far and farther than our eyescan reach. You do not mean that you would have it rough and stormy?”
“Oh, no, papa!” Bessie answered, rather puzzled herself how to make hermeaning plain to her father; “but I mean that kind of sea where thewaves come slowly, slowly on the beach, all white and curly, and makethat nice sound I like so much. It does not come in this kind of a sea.”
“Oh, ho!” said her father, “I understand. It is the _seashore_ you arelonging for, even more than the open sea itself. Well, perhaps one ofthese days, you may be there again.”
“Oh! do you think I might be, papa? Oh, that would be so delightful!”and she turned her little, eager, wistful face to her father with sucha sparkle in her eye.
“I think it more than likely that such a thing will come to pass,Bessie,” said Mr. Bradford; but he did not tell her what a pleasantsurprise awaited her in the course of her summer travels.
“Papa,” she said again presently, “do not these dear little waves wehave to-day make you think of our Maggie? They seem just like her, asif they were dancing and laughing, and so glad and gay.”
“Yes,” said her father, pleased at the pretty conceit of theaffectionate little sister, “and God’s sunshine, pouring down uponthese merry waves and touching them with light and sparkle, is like thelove and tenderness which make our Maggie’s heart so gay and happy.”
“And I am a little bit of Maggie’s sunshine: am I not, papa?” asked thesweet Bessie.
The reply came in a squeeze, half a dozen smothering kisses, and asqueal meant to express affection and delight, from Maggie herself,who, coming up behind them and hearing Bessie’s question, answeredafter her own peculiar fashion.
Yes: they were both true sunbeams, these two dear little girls:sunbeams as all children may be, because they were happy; happy becausethey were good and generous and loving; sunbeams to one another and toall around them, shedding light and brightness wherever they passed.
“Bessie,” said Maggie, when she had done hugging and kissing hersister, “I’ve made a very surprising discovery. Do you see that littlegirl sitting over there? I’ve seen her before.”
“Yes,” answered Bessie. “She’s a kind of errand girl and helps thestewardess. Yesterday morning when you were so sick she brought someice for you; but I didn’t speak to her, ’cause I felt so bad aboutyou.”
“But, do you know who her father is, Bessie?”
“No,” said Bessie. “Who?”
“That man downstairs, the steam-clock man. Isn’t that very curious?”
“Why, yes. How did you find out, Maggie?”
“Well, Belle and Lily and I were there, while you looked at the water,and that child came and stood by us; and she looked so very wishfulat our dolls, that I told her she might hold Bessie Margaret Marion alittle while if she would be careful of her; and you don’t know howpleased she seemed then; and, Bessie, what do you think, the poor childnever had a doll in her life, ’cept only a rag one, and she has nomother or sisters or any one but her father; and the captain lets herlive with her father on board the steamer; and she tries to help thestewardess and run about; and she don’t like the sea a bit, she is sotired of being on it most all the time; and she’s just my age, only ayear older; and Lily asked her if her father was a cross patch to her,and she was rather mad at that, and said no: he was good and kind ascould be, and she loved him dearly. And so I told her Lily did not meanto make her mad,--only we thought perhaps she did not find him veryinteresting ’cause he would not talk much. But she did not seem to likethat very much either: so I said, very quickly, that maybe the reasonher father did not talk much was because he had so much thinking to do;and then she looked pleased again, and said yes, that was it, but healways talked enough to her. And then I told her I felt so very sorryfor him, ’cause he had to walk up and down that little place, withnothing to do but to look at those old clock things; and I knew I nevercould be so strict with my duty, for I would be sure to laugh or talkor something.”
“And didn’t she look pleased when you said that about her father?”asked Bessie, when Maggie had come to the end of this long story.
“Oh, yes! And she said he did not like to do it, but he had to make aliving,” answered Maggie.
“I’m real sorry for both of them,” said Bessie. “You know, Maggie, wesaid we would like to be kind to him if we could, ’cause he had sucha stupid time; and I s’pose he would be just as pleased if we did akind thing to his girl.”
“Yes,” said Maggie: “if he’s a dutiful father, he would. I was thinkingwe might give her a doll to amuse herself with.”
“Not one of ours?” said Bessie, holding Margaret Colonel Horace fast,as if she thought she was to be taken from her at once.
“Oh, no! We never could give up these dolls,” said Maggie. “We lovethem too much; and besides the Colonel gave them to us, so it wouldnever do. But then, you know, we have some of our own money with us;and I thought when the steamer stopped going and we come to that partof the world that is land again, maybe we might find a toy-store andbuy her a doll of her own.”
“Yes,” said Bessie. “Papa, do they have stores in Savannah?”
“Plenty,” answered papa, “and doubtless we shall find a toy-storewithout trouble.”
“And we may buy Lucy a doll, may we not, papa?” said Maggie. “You see,it’s pretty hard for a child to have no relations, or dolls, or otheradvantages, except only a father.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Bradford, laughing, “if you choose to spend your moneyto give pleasure to this little girl, who is so poorly off, you maycertainly do so.”
The children were delighted with their papa’s consent; and when Belleand Lily heard of the plan, they begged Maggie and Bessie to letthem join in giving this pleasure to the poor child who had so fewenjoyments. Maggie and Bessie readily agreed: and it was settled thatwhen they reached Savannah, one of the first things to be done shouldbe the purchase of a doll for Lucy Waters; for such was the name of thelittle girl.
Our four young friend
s were not the only children on the steamer withwhom Lucy had something to do, as you shall hear.
“Father,” she said, as she sat upon his knee that evening, while he wasoff duty, “there are some nice little girls on board, this trip.”
“Humph!” was all the answer she received; for, in spite of Lucy’sassertion that her father talked enough to her, he did not throw awaytoo many words, even upon her: but Lucy was used to his way, and didnot mind it, for she knew he loved her dearly.
“There are,” she insisted. “One of them let me take her doll, and itcan turn its head; and she let me do it, and move its arms too. Andanother one was kind to me when some other children said bad things tome. There they are, father: don’t you see them?” and she pointed towhere Maggie and Bessie were sitting, with their father and mother.
“Thought so,” said Waters, who was not really surly, but only silentand unsociable.
“Why how, father! Did you know about it?”
“No,” replied her father, “but thought like enough it was them when yousaid some spoke nice to you. Seem like kindly, loving, little souls.”
“There are two more nice ones, that play with ’em,” said Lucy.
“Humph!” said Waters again, “one of ’em is a saucy mischief, I guess.”
“Oh!” said Lucy, “I know which one you mean. They call her Lily. Ididn’t like her so much at first; but I do now, ’cause she slapped aboy’s face who said hateful things to me.”
If Lucy imagined her father would ask what the boy had said, she wasmistaken; for he smoked away without a word more. But the memory of herwrongs was too great to be borne in silence, and presently she said,--
“Are not my clothes very nice, father?”
“Nice as I can afford, anyhow,” he answered without taking his pipefrom his lips.
“I told that boy and his sisters they were as nice as anybody’s,” saidLucy; “but maybe they’re not.” And taking off her bonnet, she turnedit round and round, eying it rather mournfully. “I don’t think thiskind of a hat is so nice as those little girls’, father; nor this longapron so nice as their short frocks. I wonder if I couldn’t make’em look better, so folks wouldn’t laugh at me.”
Now, I think Waters was somewhat mistaken when he said Lucy’s clotheswere as nice as he could afford. He had good wages, and his little girldid not want for what was necessary to make her neat and comfortable:but he did not know how to dress her; and the enormous shaker bonnet,which would have fitted a grown woman; and long, scant apron which cameto her feet,--cost no less, perhaps more, than the short frock andround straw hat, which would have been more convenient and suitable fora girl of her age.
Poor Lucy knew she looked very different from most children of herown size; but, although she kept herself very tidy, she did not seehow she was to remedy this difficulty. She was a funny little figure,certainly: more so than she was aware of; but it had never troubledher much until this afternoon, when some rude but well-dressed boysand girls, who would have been very indignant if they had been toldthey were not half so well-bred and polite as the engineer’s littledaughter, had annoyed her very much.
Maggie and Bessie had noticed these children, but, seeing how roughand boisterous they were, had rather avoided them. But that afternoon,while they, with Belle and Lily, were talking to Lucy, and asking hersome questions about her homeless, seafaring life, these boys and girlscame up to them.
Not having at that moment any dispute to settle among themselves, theywere ready to band together against any one else; and Lucy presented atempting mark for attack.
“Ho! you seem to have picked up a fine acquaintance there!” said ArthurLathrop, the eldest of the brothers.
“She is dressed in the last fashion,” said Charlotte, his sister, witha scornful look at Lucy.
“Quite the style,” joined in the other boy. “You brought your bonnetfrom the Paris Exposition: did you not, ma’am?”
Poor Lucy had not the least idea what the Paris Exposition was; but sheknew very well that these unkind children were making fun of her, andshe drew back with a hurt and angry look.
“Couldn’t you give my sisters the pattern of that lovely bonnet?” saidArthur.
“And of that outside toggery too,” said William, “whatever its name is.Not being used to such an elegant style of dress, I don’t know what tocall it.”
“You ought to be ashamed to talk so,” said Bessie, indignantly. “She’sa nice, good, little girl, who tries to be a help to every one; and ifher clothes are not so very pretty, she can’t help it. It is better tohave good clothes and be bad, than to have bad clothes and be good,”added the little girl, saying just the opposite of what she intended.
But no one noticed her mistake. The Lathrops were all too intenton their victim, the other little ones too full of sympathy andindignation, to pay much heed to a choice of words.
“Well,” returned William, provokingly, “don’t we say she is the moststylish, fashionable young lady we have seen this long time. For me, Iam struck dumb with admiration.”
“To be sure,” said Charlotte, “didn’t you say that bonnet was thelatest fashion from the Exposition?”
“Or from Noah’s ark: which is it? Pray tell us, miss,” put in Arthurwith a loud laugh.
“Let her be, you bad boys,” said Belle.
“She looks a great deal nicer than any of you,” said Lily, too anxiousto take up Lucy’s defence to think of the exact truth of her statement.
“Oh! of course, of course,” retorted Arthur. “She is quite a model. Ipropose we all ask our mothers to buy us just such clothes. Don’t leaveus, Miss Elegance;” and he caught hold of poor Lucy, who had turned torun away.
“Let her be,” said Lily.
“You’re very ungrateful,” said Maggie. “This morning when you calledthe stewardess, I saw Lucy run very quick to call her. You ought to beashamed all of you. You’re as bad as the Elisha children in the Bible,that were eaten up.”
“Are you going to let her go?” asked Lily, with a threatening shake ofher head at the young tyrant, who still held Lucy fast.
“As soon as she tells us how many hundred dollars she paid for thislove of a bonnet,” said Arthur, tossing off the unlucky shaker with ajerk of his thumb and finger.
Without another word, Lily reached up her small hand, and gave the bigboy a sounding slap upon his cheek. In his surprise, he loosed his holdof Lucy, who quickly snatched up her bonnet, and made good her escape.
Arthur turned fiercely upon Lily; but she stood her ground, and notexactly caring, bully though he was, to strike back at a girl so muchsmaller than himself, he contented himself with catching her stilluplifted hand in his, and saying,--
“How dare you do that?”
“’Cause you deserved it,” said Lily, sternly.
“And I’ve a good mind to give you another,” said Belle.
“Children! Children!” said Mr. Powers, who had seen from a distancethat trouble was threatening, and had come to prevent it. “What is thematter here? Quarrelling and striking?”
“I’m striking,” said Lily, rather proud of having given a blow in whatshe considered a just cause; “but I’m not quarrelling, sir.”
“No, papa,” said Belle. “We’re not quarrelling: it’s only those bad,mean ones;” and she pointed at the Lathrops with as much scorn in hertone and manner as they had used towards Lucy.
But these children, knowing right well that their share in the disputewas by far the worst, did not choose to face Mr. Powers’s inquiries,and now scattered in all directions.
“Striking and calling names look a good deal like quarrelling,” saidMr. Powers, smiling.
“But we had to take Lucy’s side, papa,” said Belle; and neither shenor Lily was to be persuaded that it was not right for the latter tostrike a blow in Lucy’s defence. Indeed, Maggie and Bessie were ratherinclined to hold the same opinion, and all four were quite excited overLucy’s wrongs.
While Lucy was telling her father the
story, they were talking it overamong themselves; and knowing, in spite of their sympathy, that shepresented rather a comical figure, were trying to think of some meansby which they might help her to dress herself more like other children.But they did not see exactly how it was to be done, nor did Mrs.Bradford when they consulted her.
“I fear it would not do to offer Lucy clothes, my darlings,” she said:“those she wears, though odd-looking, are good and comfortable; and herfather might be offended if we offered her any thing which seemed likecharity, or let him know that we do not think her properly dressed.”
“Mamma,” said Bessie, gravely, “do you think a thing is comfortablewhen it makes a child laughed at?”
“Well, no, dear, perhaps not,” answered Mrs. Bradford, smiling, “and Iam very sorry for Lucy. Mrs. Norris and I were saying this morning thatwe wished we might tell the poor child how to make herself look lesslike a little old woman, but we thought it would not do to interfere.”
“I’d wish somebody would interfere if it was me,” said Maggie. “It mustbe most _too_ much to have a father who won’t talk, and who has suchvery bad taste.”
This was said with so much emphasis, and with such a long-drawn sigh atthe end, as if the mere thought of such misfortune were almost too muchfor Maggie, that every one laughed.
Bessie had less to say about Lucy’s troubles than any of the others;but she thought more of them: for we know how sensitive she herselfwas to ridicule, and she could not bear to think that Lucy might haveto undergo the same trial again.
“Mamma,” she said, coming to her mother’s side that evening, “thereare Lucy and her father sitting at the head of those steps, and she isshowing him those queer dressing-gown frocks of hers. Could I go andspeak to them?”
Mrs. Bradford turned to see if it was a proper place for Bessie to goto, and then gave her permission, thinking that her little girl mightpossibly see some way to help Lucy, and trusting to her good sense andkind heart not to say any thing that might give offence.
“Maybe they’re not just the right shape,” said the engineer, as Bessiecame near; “but I don’t know how you are to better them;” and he turnedover and over the two frocks, just like the one Lucy had on, which layacross his knee. “Maybe Dorothy would show you.”
“I don’t like to ask her,” said Lucy; or Dorothy the stewardess, wasrather sharp and short with her.
Bessie came close.
“Would you be offended if some one tried to be kind to Lucy?” sheasked, seizing her opportunity.
She was quite surprised to see how pleasantly Waters smiled as heanswered,--
“Not I. Those that are friends to my Lucy are friends to me.”
“Some children laughed at her,” said Bessie, wishing to put the case asgently as she could.
The engineer frowned and nodded.
“I told him,” said Lucy.
“There’s no excuse for them,” continued Bessie, looking out overthe waters as if she were talking more to herself than to the man,“but perhaps they would not have done it, if--if--if Lucy’s clotheswere--were a little prettier.”
“And I’ll warrant if your power was as good as your will, you’d makethem prettier for her,” answered the engineer. “You’re a kind littlelady. Lucy was just asking me if I could tell her how to fix up herthings a bit; but I don’t know. Old Mrs. Sims, who does her washing andsewing, she bought them, and I didn’t see but they were all right; butnow Lucy says they’re not, and she can’t do ’em over.”
Lucy stood listening in amazement to this unusually long speech fromher father, who was very rarely so sociable with any one as he now waswith Bessie.
“But you wouldn’t mind if mamma was to try and help her, would you?”Bessie asked in a coaxing voice.
“Mind!” said the engineer, “I’d be only too thankful, and so wouldmy Lucy; but such a lady as your mamma doesn’t want to bother with alittle stranger girl.”
“Oh, yes, she does!” said Bessie, eagerly, “and mamma don’t think ita bit of bother if she can do a kind thing for some one; and she saidshe would like to fix Lucy up, ’cause she was such a nice, tidy child.Come and show her these, Lucy;” and without waiting for more words, shesnatched up one gown, and taking Lucy by the hand drew her after her,telling her to bring the other two with her.
Lucy obeyed rather timidly; but the kind manner and words of the twoladies, Mrs. Bradford and Mrs. Norris, soon put her at her ease, andshe became deeply interested in the plans for putting what Bessiecalled “the dressing-gown” frocks into proper shape.
There were four of them, all alike, of a good but dull gingham, withoutthe least shape or fit, save what was given by a string about thewaist; very long and scant,--so scant, that the ladies decided it wouldtake two to make one suitable frock. Lucy asked and readily obtainedleave from her father for this; and Mrs. Bradford allowed the fourlittle girls to begin the work that very night by ripping apart theseams.
She and Mrs. Norris went to work also that evening; and when thesteamer came into port the following night, Lucy was made happy byhaving one dress made in a manner proper for a girl of her age; andknowing that the second was surely promised to her by Mrs. Bradford.Belle presented her with “the doll of moderation,” which she hadbrought with her, she and her young friends having concluded to keeptheir money for another purpose instead of buying a new one.
The day on which the vessel started on her return voyage, Mr. Bradfordand Mr. Powers drove down with their little daughters and Lily Norris;and the children brought Lucy not only her own gingham frock, but alsotwo others, of bright, simple calico, all nicely made up; and a strawhat with a blue ribbon upon it. These were all their own presents,bought with their own money, only the making having been paid forby their mammas; so that the engineer could find no fault with thekindness done to his little girl by these thoughtful young strangers.
Lucy was contented beyond measure with her new clothes; but no wordscould do justice to her satisfaction and pleasure in her doll. What atreasure it was! What a delight in her rather lonely little life! Shetalked to it, and caressed it, slept with it in her arms at night,kissed it the first thing in the morning, dressed and undressed it,and learned to use her needle in fashioning clothes for it. Her fathermight be too busy to attend to her; Dorothy might snub her; fretful,impatient passengers send her hither and thither till she was ready todrop from fatigue,--she had one solace and delight that repaid her forall: the recollection of that little china head, and the staring, blueeyes which lay upon the pillow in her berth, the kisses which she wouldrun and snatch now and then, till her time was her own once more, andshe could pet and nurse her little treasure to her heart’s content.
And so our four little travellers have begun their journey with a kinddeed which brought pleasure and comfort, such as they did not dream of,into this poor, craving, young heart, which had had so little to feedupon; and went upon their way followed by blessings and grateful, happymemories.