CHAPTER VII.
LITTLE TROUBLES.
Somebody said once to Susy and Flossy, when they were having a frolic in"Prudy's sitting-room," up stairs, "What happy little things! You don'tknow what trouble is, and never will, till you grow up!"
The little girls preserved a respectful silence, till the lady was outof hearing, and then held an indignant discussion as to the truth ofwhat she had said. It would have been a discussion, I mean, if they hadnot both taken the same side of the question.
"How she sighed," said Susy, "just as if she was the _melancholiest_person that ever was!" Susy was famous for the use she made ofadjectives, forming the superlatives just as it happened.
"Yes, just the way," responded Flossy. "I'd like to know what everhappened to _her_? Pshaw! She laughed this afternoon, and ate applesfast enough!"
"O, she thinks she must make believe have a dreadful time, because sheis grown up," said Susy, scornfully. "She's forgot she was ever a littlegirl! I've had troubles; I guess I have! And I know one thing, I shallremember 'em when I grow up, and not say, 'What happy little things!'to children. It's real hateful!"
Little folks have trouble, to be sure. Their hearts are full of it, andrunning over, sometimes; and how can the largest heart that ever beat be_more_ than full, and running over?
Susy had daily trials. They were sent to her because they were good forher. Shadows and night-dews are good for flowers. If the sun had shoneon Susy always, and she had never had any shadows and night dews, shewould have _scorched up_ into a selfish girl.
One of her trials was Miss Dotty Dimple. Now, she loved Dotty dearly,and considered her funny all over, from the crown of her head to thesoles of her little twinkling feet, which were squeezed into a pair ofgaiters. Dotty loved those gaiters as if they were alive. She had agreat contempt for the slippers she wore in the morning, but it was her"darlin' gaiters," which she put on in the afternoon, and loved next tofather and mother, and all her best friends.
When ladies called, she stepped very briskly across the floor, lookingdown at her feet, and tiptoeing about, till the ladies smiled, and said,"O, what sweet little boots!" and then she was perfectly happy.
Susy was not very wide awake in the morning; but Dotty was stirring assoon as there was a peep of light, and usually stole into Susy's bed tohave a frolic. Nothing but a story would keep her still, and poor Susyoften wondered which was harder, to be used as a football by Dotty, orto tell stories with her eyes shut.
"O, Dotty Dimple, keep still; can't you? There's a darling," she wouldplead, longing for another nap; "_don't_ kill me."
"No, no; me won't kill," the little one would reply; "'tisn't _pooty_ tokill!"
"O, dear, you little, cunning, darling plague, now hush, and let me goto sleep!"
Then Dotty would plant both feet firmly on Susy's chest, and say, in herteasing little voice, as troublesome as the hum of a mosquito,--
"Won't you tell me 'tory--tell me a 'tory--tell me a 'tory, Susy."
"Well, what do you want to hear?"
Now, it was natural for Susy to feel cross when she was sleepy. It costher a hard struggle to speak pleasantly, and when she succeeded in doingso, I set it down as one of her greatest victories over herself. TheQuaker motto of her grandmother, "Let patience have her perfect work,"helped her sometimes, when she could wake up enough to remember it.
"Tell 'bout little yellow gell," said the voice of the mosquito, overand over again.
Susy roused herself after the third request, and sleepily asked ifsomething else wouldn't do?
"I had a little nobby-colt."
"No, no, you _di'n't_, you _di'n't_; grandma had the nobby! Tell yellowgell."
"O," sighed Susy, "how can you want to hear that so many, many times?Well, once when I was a little bit of a girl--"
"'Bout's big as me, you _said_," put in Dotty.
"O, yes, I did say so once, and I suppose I must tell it so every time,or you'll fuss! Well, I had a yellow dress all striped off in checks--"
"Di'n't it go this way?" said Dotty, smoothing the sheet with her littlehand, "and this way?"
"What? What?" Susy roused herself and rubbed her eyes. "O, yes, it wentin checks; and I was at grandma Parlin's, and Grace--Grace--O, Grace andI went into the pasture where there were a couple of cows, a gray cowand a red cow."
"Now you must say what _is_ couple," says Dotty.
"Then what is couple?"
"Gray cow," answers Dotty, very gravely.
"So when the cows saw us coming, they--they--O, they threw up theirheads, and stopped eating grass--in the air. I mean--threw--up--theirheads." Susy was nearly asleep.
"Up in the air?"
"Yes, of course, up in the air. (There, I _will_ wake up!) And the graycow began to run towards us, and Grace says to me, 'O, my, she thinksyou're a pumpkin!'"
"You?"
"Yes, me, because my dress was so yellow. I was just as afraid of thecow as I could be."
"Good cow! _He_ wouldn't hurt!"
"No, the cow was good, and didn't think I was a pumpkin, not the leastspeck. But I was so afraid, that I crept under the bars, and ran home."
"To grandma's house?"
"Yes; and grandma laughed."
"Well, where was me?" was the next question, after a pause.
Then, when the duty of story-telling was performed, Susy would gladlyhave gone back to "climbing the dream-tree;" but no, she must stilllisten to Dotty, though she answered her questions in an absent-mindedway, like a person "hunting for a forgotten dream."
One morning she was going to ride with her cousin Percy. It had beensome time since she had seen Wings, except in the stable, where shevisited him every day.
But Dotty had set her heart on a rag-baby which Susy had promised todress, and Prudy was anxious that Susy should play several games ofcheckers with her.
"O, dear," said the eldest sister, with the perplexed air of a motherwho has disobedient little ones to manage. "I think I have about as muchas I can bear. The _children_ always make a fuss, just as sure as Iwant to go out."
The old, impatient spirit was rising; that spirit which it was one ofthe duties of Susy's life to keep under control.
She went into the bathing-room, and drank off a glass of cold water, andtalked to herself a while, for she considered that the safest way.
"Have I any right to be cross? Yes, I think I have. Here Dotty woke meup, right in the middle of a dream, and I'm sleepy this minute. ThenPrudy is a little babyish thing, and always was--making a fuss if Iforget to call her Rosy Frances! Yes, I'll be cross, and act just as Iwant to. It's too hard work to keep pleasant; I won't try."
She walked along to the door, but, by that time, the better spirit wasstruggling to be heard.
"Now, Susy Parlin," it said, "you little girl with a pony, and a pair ofskates, and feet to walk on, and everything you want, ain't you ashamed,when you think of that dear little sister you pushed down stairs--no,didn't push--that poor little lame sister!--O, hark! there is yourmother winding up that hard splint! How would you feel with such a thingon your hip? Go, this minute, and comfort Prudy!"
The impatient feelings were gone for that time; Susy had swallowedthem, or they had flown out of the window.
"Now Rosy Frances Eastman Mary," said she, "if your splint is all fixed,I'll comb your hair."
The splint was made of hard, polished wood and brass. Under it werestrips of plaster an inch wide, which wound round and round the poorwounded limb. These strips of plaster became loose, and there was alittle key-hole in the splint, into which Mrs. Parlin put a key, andwound up and tightened the plaster every morning. This operation did nothurt Prudy at all.
"Now," said Susy, after she had combed Prudy's hair carefully, and put anet over it, until her mother should be ready to curl it, "now we willhave a game of checkers."
Prudy played in high glee, for Susy allowed her to jump all her men, andmarch triumphantly into the king-row, at the head of a victorious army.
"T
here, now, Rosy," said Susy, gently, "are you willing to let me go outriding? I can't play any more if I ride, for I must dress Dotty's doll,and feed my canary."
"O, well," said Prudy, considering the matter, "I'm sick; I tell you howit is, I'm sick, you know; but--well, you may go, Susy, if you'll makeup a story as long as a mile."
Susy really felt grateful to Prudy, but it was her own gentle mannerwhich had charmed the sick child into giving her consent.
Then Susy proceeded to dress Dotty's doll in a very simple fashion, withtwo holes for short sleeves, and a skirt with a raw edge; but she lookedkind and pleasant while she was at work, and Dotty was just as wellpleased as if it had been an elegant costume she was preparing. And itwas really good enough for a poor deformed rag-baby, with a head shapedlike a stove-pipe.
Susy was delighted to find how well a little patience served her inamusing "the children." Next, she went to give Dandy his morning bath.Mrs. Parlin still thought it a dangerous practice, but had not seen Mrs.Mason, to question her about it, and Susy was too obstinate in heropinion to listen to her mother.
"I must do it," said Susy; "it has been ever so long since Dandy wasbathed, and I shouldn't take any comfort riding, mamma, if I didn'tleave him clean."
Susy plunged the trembling canary into his little bathing-bowl, in somehaste. He struggled as usual, and begged, with his weak, piping voice,to be spared such an infliction. But Susy was resolute.
"It'll do you good, Ducky Daddles; we mustn't have any lazy, dirtybirdies in this house."
Ducky Daddies rolled up his little eyes, and gasped for breath.
"O, look, mother!" cried Susy, laughing; "how funny Dandy acts! Do yousuppose it's to make me laugh? O, is he fainting away?"
"Fainting away! My dear child, he is dying!"
This was the sad truth. Mrs. Parlin fanned him, hoping to call back thelingering breath. But it was too late. One or two more throbs, and hisfrightened little heart had ceased to beat; his frail life had gone outas suddenly as a spark of fire.
Susy was too much shocked to speak. She stood holding the stiffeningbird in her hands, and gazing at it.
Mrs. Parlin was very sorry for Susy, and had too much kindness offeeling to add to her distress by saying,--
"You know how I warned you, Susy."
Susy was already suffering for her obstinacy and disregard of hermother's advice; and Mrs. Parlin believed she would lay the lesson toheart quite as well without more words. It was a bitter lesson. Susyloved dumb creatures dearly, and was just becoming very fond of Dandy.
In the midst of her trouble, and while her eyes were swollen with tears,her cousin Percy came with Wings and the sleigh to give her the promisedride. Susy no longer cared for going out: it seemed to her that herheart was almost broken.
"Well, cousin Indigo, what is the matter?" said Percy; "you look as ifthis world was a howling wilderness, and you wanted to howl too. What,crying over that bird? Poh! I can buy you a screech-owl any time, thatwill make twice the noise he could in his best days. Come, hurry, andput your things on!"
Susy buried her face in her apron.
"I'll compose a dirge for him," said Percy.
"My bird is dead, said Susy P., My bird is dead; O, deary me! He sang so sweet, te whee, te whee; He sings no more; O, deary me! Go hang his cage up in the tree, That cage I care no more to see. My bird is dead, cried Susy P."
These provoking words Percy drawled out in a sing-song voice. It wastoo much. Susy's eyes flashed through her tears.
"You've always laughed at me, Percy Eastman, and plagued me about FreddyJackson, and everything, and I've borne it like a--like a lady. But whenyou go to laughing at my poor little Dandy that's dead, and can'tspeak--"
Susy was about to say, "Can't speak for himself," but saw in time howabsurdly she was talking, and stopped short.
Percy laughed.
"Where are you going with that cage?"
"Going to put it away, where I'll never see it again," sobbed poor Susy.
"Give it to me," said Percy: "I'll take care of it for you."
If Susy's eyes had not been blinded by tears, she would have beensurprised to see the real pity in Percy's face.
He was a rollicking boy, full of merriment and bluster, and what tenderfeelings he possessed, he took such a wonderful amount of pains toconceal, that Susy never suspected he had any. She would have enjoyedher ride if she had not felt so full of grief. The day was beautiful.There had been a storm, and the trees looked as if they had beensnowballing one another; but Susy had no eye for trees, and just thenhardly cared for her pony.
Percy put the cage in the sleigh, under the buffalo robes; and whenthey reached his own door, he carried the cage into the house, whileSusy drew a sigh of relief. He offered to stuff Dandy, or have himstuffed; but Susy rejected the idea with horror.
"No, if Dandy was dead, he was all dead; she didn't want to see himsitting up stiff and cold, when he couldn't sing a speck."