Belle's pink boots

Material Information

Belle's pink boots
Mathews, Joanna H ( Joanna Hooe ), 1849-1901
Waugh, Ida, d. 1919 ( Illustrator )
E.P. Dutton (Firm) ( Publisher )
University Press (Cambridge, Mass.) ( Printer )
John Wilson and Son ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
New York
E. P. Dutton and Company
University Press ; John Wilson and Son
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
Physical Description:
200 p., [15] leaves of plates : ill. ; 22 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Sisters -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Family -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Aunts -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Strawberries -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Physicians -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Aquariums -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1881
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )


Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by Joanna H. Mathews ; with colored illustrations by Ida Waugh.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections ( with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026813166 ( ALEPH )
ALH4397 ( NOTIS )
02686565 ( OCLC )


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I. WANTED- A MODEL . . . . . . . 7


III. THE MODEL FOUND . . . . . . . 34


V. BELLE STACY . . . . . . . . . 6

VI. KITTY'S OFFERING . . . . . 71


VIII. OLIVE'S AMBITION .. .. . . . 104




XI. IN THE MIRROR . . ..... 137

XII. OLIVE'S ELEPHANT" . . . . . 151

XIII. A DISCOVERY. . ... ........ .66




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OSIE PIERSON'S sister Annie had just been married
:i^ to Fanny Delisle's uncle, young Dr. Delisle, and it
,/ greatly puzzled the two little girls, as well as their numer-
ous companions and playmates, to determine the exact degree of
relationship which now existed between these two, who had hitherto
been only the most intimate of friends and inseparables," but who,
now that their "families were married," as Rosie said, must be very
nearly related. The matrimonial arrangement was considered
delightful in all respects by Fanny, who, living with her grand-
mamma, who was old and feeble, and a grave doctor uncle, who
was considered by her friends as awfully solemn and sober," had
thus gained a gay, lively young aunt with merry, loving ways to
brighten her home, and thereby many added opportunities of com-
panionship with her favorite friend Rosie. By Rosie, however, the
new tie was not considered altogether satisfactory, in spite of her
fondness for Fanny; for "sister" had left her own old home for


that of Dr. Delisle, and Rosie missed her very much. Moreover,
Rosie had never regarded Dr. Delisle with an eye of much favor;
she had always rather resented his frequent visits to Sister Annie,
and when she heard that they were to be married, and Annie to go
and live in Dr. Delisle's home, she had quite misbehaved herself to
the doctor, and wound up with begging her papa to write to the
President, and ask him to divorce the engagement." Even Fanny's
arguments failed for a time to bring her to a more reasonable and
contented frame of mind; but she had at last resigned herself to.
circumstances, and had even begun to think she could endure the
new brother-in-law who had been so patient and forbearing with
all her whim-whams and pettishness. I rather think that the lovely
summer wedding, in which she and Fanny shared as the two least
bridesmaids, went far to reconcile her to her sister's part in the
affair, though she did confide to Lola and Violet Swan her opinion
that "it would have been nicer yet if Dr. Delisle had stayed away."
But, dear me! how much pleasanter Fanny's home had been
since Annie had been there! and Rosie had to allow this, and she
really saw almost as much of her sister as she did when Annie was
at home, there was such constant coming and going between the
two houses. Rosie was even learning to say Brother Ben with-
out much hesitation, or making a wry face over it, but here came
in the puzzle which could not be settled: if Dr. Delisle was
" brother" to Rosie and "uncle" to Fannie, what relation was
Fannie to Rosie ?


I do not know that this question is quite settled yet; so if any
among my little friends have any views on the subject, perhaps
Fanny and Rosie may be glad to hear from them.
Why don't they come ? fretted Rosie, one bright afternoon, as
she hung on the railing of the piazza, and looked down the carriage-
drive of her father's place. Sister said she would be here by four
o'clock, and I heard it strike four ever so long ago. I think it
must be near five now."
"Only ten minutes past four, darling," said Mrs. Pierson, who
had come out upon the piazza, and had now taken her seat there to
await the coming of her eldest daughter with her little niece; only
ten minutes past four, and Annie may have been detained. Per-
haps old Mrs. Delisle wanted her."
"Old Mrs. Delisle ought not to want her," pouted impatient
Rosie, who was, it must be confessed, a little spoiled and apt to be
selfish. Sister Annie is the most ours, and I wish she and Fanny
lived here all the time. Mrs. Delisle could keep Brother Ben if
she wanted to. I don't think I approve of young men," she added
reflectively, after a moment's pause. "They come to see young
ladies, and make them marry them, and then the young ladies'
little sisters and mothers don't have a very nice time."
I know we miss Annie sadly, but still I think you and I can
have a very nice time if we are only contented and pleased with
one another," said her mother.
Rosie pondered this for a moment.


"Are you contented and pleased with me, mamma ? she asked,
somewhat conscience-stricken, for she knew that she had not been
the most pleasant of companions for the past half hour.
"When you are good-natured and happy," answered her mother;
" but when you are fretful and discontented, you cannot be a com-
fort to me in sister's absence."
Well, I 'm horrid sometimes, I know, mamma," said Rosie
remorsefully, but inclined to excuse herself; "but I believe it's
just the misfortune of being married that makes me so. Before
our family married the Delisles, I used to be a great deal nicer
than I am now."
Not if you were crossed, not if everything did not go just to
please you, Rosie. You were just as impatient, just as much
inclined to be captious then as now; but your kind, over-indulgent
mamma does not remind you of this.
Mrs. Pierson gave a little sigh, and took her crewel work from
her basket without further remark. Rosie was so apt to consider
herself badly off and hardly used for the merest trifle that her
mother often wished she could teach her what a happy, pleasant lot
was hers, especially as compared with that of many other children.
If Mrs. Pierson did draw any such comparison, Rosie would give a
sort of half agreement to what her mother said, but then meet it
with some grievance, real or supposed. Oh, yes, she knew all that,
she was glad she was not like such and such an one; but then, so
and so; and of late, whenever she was discontented or put out,


she had this never-failing source of affliction in her sister's mar-
Whether she would now have found any further objections to
the present state of affairs cannot be told, for her attention was
suddenly diverted and her good humor restored by the sight of a
pretty little carriage, drawn by a beautiful pair of ponies, coming up
the carriage-way.
mamma," exclaimed Rosie, all smiles in one moment, here
is Miss Helen Shaw in her pony phaeton, and she is bringing sister
and Fanny with her."
So I see," said her mother, as she rose to receive her daughter's
Mrs. Pierson," said Miss Helen Shaw, a bright, pleasant young
lady, who was a great favorite with Rosie and Fanny as well as the
most of the children of Glenwood, Mrs. Pierson, will you forgive
me for keeping Annie beyond the time she promised to be with
you ? I wanted her to go on a little errand with me, and we were
detained longer than we expected to be; that is," she added, laugh-
ing, I was so determined not to give up my purpose that I forgot
how time was passing, although Annie had told me she must be
here by four o'clock. It was all of no use, too."
I think Rosie and I can forgive you," said Mrs. Pierson, as
Rosie, having hugged Fanny as if they had not seen one another
for six months instead of that very morning, slipped her hand into
Miss Helen's, and raised her face for a kiss. "You speak as though


you had had some disappointment, dear," said Mrs. Pierson, after
they were all seated, Fanny and Rosie upon the top step of the
piazza, within hearing of all that was said by their elders.
Oh, Mrs. Roberts has been so horrid," said Fanny to Rosie.
"I would not have believed it of her."
What did she do ?" asked Rosie, very much surprised to hear
this of kind Mrs. Roberts.
She won't let Miss Helen model Jessie," said Fanny indig-
nantly; "and at first when Miss Helen asked her, she seemed just
as mad as anything about it."
Meanwhile in answer to Mrs. Pierson's remark, Helen had
said, "Yes, I have had a disappointment, have half offended
Mrs. Roberts, and am almost, if not quite, discouraged."
About your picture? asked Mrs. Pierson.
Yes 'm," answered Helen Shaw. I cannot find a model who
at all comes up to my idea of what my central figure should be; at
least, I can find none in Glenwood or the neighborhood. Glenwood
and Glenwood children are too healthy "; and Helen laughed as she
shook her finger threateningly at the four rosy cheeks below her.
"Have you asked for Jessie Roberts as a subject?" asked the
elder lady, who had caught something of what passed between the
two little girls.
Yes, and have thereby fallen immeasurably in the good graces
of Mrs. Roberts," said Helen. If you had seen her face when
I proposed it! One would have thought that I had asked the most
dreadful and unheard-of thing."


Perhaps her spirit of independence was hurt at the idea that
Jessie should do anything for pay," said Mrs. Pierson.
"Yes," answered Helen; "but it was not alone that. She seemed
to look at it from a moral point of view, and to found her objections
to it mainly upon that. Nobody should ever have it to say,' she
said, 'that her girl's face went into a fancy picture'; and even when
I told her that Lily Ward and Tiny Seton were in the picture,
she was not to be moved, only saying that 'Mrs. Ward and Mrs.
Seton had their ideas of Christian duty to their children, and she
had hers, and must act according.' She was not to be moved."
"I think," said young Mrs. Delisle, that she was, perhaps, more
sensitive on the subject for the reason that she had taken Jessie
from the asylum. I do not know, but it struck me at the time
when she answered in such a half-offended wav."
"I should not be so sorry if I could find any other child," said
Helen; "for Jessie looks hardly frail enough now for my model.
I was astonished to see how the child has improved."
Yes," said Mrs. Delisle; ever since the warm spring weather
began, there has been a wonderful change in her. I think you need
a more fragile-looking subject than she is now, Helen."
Where to find one?" said Helen. The trouble with me is
that I can never invent a face or expression. I must have my model
for that."
But, Miss Helen," said Fanny deprecatingly, are you not glad
that poor Jessie is so much better? I should think every one in


Glenwood would be glad when she saved most all of our fathers
and brothers from a terrible accident."
Indeed I am, dear," answered Miss Helen; "yes, even if my
picture were never finished."
Now, as all this about Mrs. Roberts and Jessie and Helen
Shaw's picture may be mysterious to you, I must enlighten you
a little, and tell some of the facts which were familiar to Fanny
and Rosie.
Jessie was the adopted daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, a kind-
hearted farmer and his wife, who lived in Glenwood. About two
years since, they had lost their own two children, and wishing to
fill their places in their home, if not in their hearts, so far as might
be, and to give the comfort of a father's and mother's care to some
who had lost this, they had taken Jessie and her brother Joe from
the Orphan Asylum, and were bringing them up as if they had
been their own. Jessie had well rewarded the care and affection
bestowed upon her, and during the past autumn she had made
herself of no small importance and interest in the eyes of the
Glenwood people, and, indeed, in the eyes of all who knew of it, by
a most heroic deed, which had been the means of bringing great
danger, suffering, and trouble upon herself.
Coming home from an errand on which she had been sent by her
mother, Jessie took a path which lay along a bank above the rail-
road, and from thence she saw an old drunken man placing a log
upon the track in order to wreck the coming train. In that train,

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By a tremendous effort of strength, threw the log

from the track." [Page 15.]


as Jessie knew, were fathers, brothers, and husbands of Glenwood,
coming to their homes where all their dear ones awaited them,
without one thought of the awful danger before them.
No sooner had the old madman gone, than the little heroine,
with no thought of the risk to herself, flew headlong down the bank,
and by a tremendous effort of strength threw the log from the
track and into the river, thus saving the train and all its passengers,
which passed unharmed over the spot the next instant.
Jessie herself was unhurt by the train, but in another moment
the poor child was flying for her life from old Friscoe, the drunken
man, who was enraged at her interference with his fiendish scheme,
and wanted to revenge himself upon her. Light of foot, and urged
on by terror, Jessie was soon quite beyond the reach of her feeble,
staggering pursuer but she did not know that he had ceased to
chase her, and kept blindly on, until, forcing her way through a
thicket, without any knowledge of what lay beyond, she fell headlong
into a deep stone quarry. Here she lay for some hours, unconscious
and terribly injured, and here she was found by a party who had
come in search of her. For weeks and months after, it was doubt-
ful if the flickering spark of life left in the poor little bruised form
could be fanned into brightness; but at length the doctors declared
that she could live, and even, after a time, be able to walk again.
During the winter after she was fairly on her way to recovery,
Dr. Delisle had taken sole charge of the case; indeed, he had been
devoted to Jessie from the first, and she had not lacked for the very


best care and medical advice, nor, indeed, for any token of gratitude
and appreciation which the ladies and gentlemen of the neighbor-
hood could bestow upon her. A large sum of money had been
raised for her; but what Mrs. Pierson had called the sturdy
independence" of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts had refused to receive it,
and it had therefore been placed in the bank for her until she
should be a woman.
Simple, shy, unpretending little Jessie had become a heroine in
Glenwood, and the children of the place were never tired of repeat-
ing the story of her brave deed to those who had never heard of it.
But it had been a long and tedious winter to the poor little girl,
in spite of all the kindness of her friends and debtors, and it was
not until the spring came that she began to move about again.
Since then, however, she had improved so rapidly as to astonish all
who saw her; and, as you have heard, Miss Helen Shaw, who had
not seen her for some time, was quite surprised at her appearance.
Not that she was yet by any means well, or quite active, but she
would hardly now answer for a model for the wan, sunken little
invalid whom Helen desired to paint.
Helen Shaw was quite an artist, and she was, at present, painting
a picture to be called The Flower Mission," in which a party of
ladies and children were bringing flowers to a wasted and all but
dying little sufferer. And even if this had not been so, it appeared
that she would not have been allowed to choose Jessie as her model,
for kind, good-natured Mrs. Roberts had all but taken offence at


the suggestion, and had positively refused to listen to it. Perhaps
she had some dim idea floating through her mind that it would
be a reflection upon the former life of the little adopted daughter
whom she had learned to love almost as if she were her own, if she
allowed her to be painted in a hospital scene.
So Miss Helen, as you have seen, came away disappointed, for
although she had no difficulty in procuring models for her other
figures, the Glenwood children were, as she said, "so provokingly
healthy," that she could find no one else among them who would
answer for her idea.
And neither Mrs. Pierson nor Mrs. Delisle could give her any
help, or think of any child who would do for a model; and Helen
felt, as she said, quite discouraged about her picture, which she was
in haste to finish by a particular time, as it was intended as a birth-
day present and surprise to her father, who was absent from home,
and had no idea of the progress in her art which had lately been
made by his talented daughter.
"Oh, what do you think?" said Fanny, suddenly recollecting
something which was to her of vastly more importance than even
the subject of Miss Helen's model, "what do you think, Rosie ?
Aunt Annie is going to do just the very loveliest thing, and she's
going to ask your mamma about it, to see if you can go too."
Go where ? asked Rosie.
"She is going to the city to-morrow," answered Fanny, and
she is going to take you and me, too, if your mamma says 'yes'; and


she will, of course, and she's going to take us to see old Nurse
"Oh, oh!" said Rosie, clapping her hands in ecstacy, "how
lovely, how perfectly lovely! Oh, I know mamma will let me go.
She likes me to go see Nurse Campbell, and I have n't been
for ever so long; and when Nurse was here for Annie's wedding,
she asked me to come very soon, and asked me to bring you, too,
you know."
Nurse Campbell was an old woman who had for years lived with
Mrs. Pierson as nurse to her children; but about two years since
she had left the family she had served so long and so faithfully,
to keep house for her sons, who were now able to support her com-
fortably, and wanted their mother with them. But her former
nurslings were all very fond of her, and often went to see her when
they visited the city, and Rosie considered it a great treat, for the
reason that Nursey always made so much of her. And Fanny had
sometimes been there with her, and liked the visit almost as much
as her little friend Rosie did.
And do you believe," said Fanny, "she is going to take us to-
guess where she is going to take us to lunch."
I don't know where. Bigot's ? asked Rosie, who never liked
guessing, but was impatient to be told everything at once.
To the Hotel Brunswick," answered Fanny. You never went
there, did you, Rosie ? "
No, Rosie had never been to the Hotel Brunswick, had never


been inside of it, that is, although she had sometimes passed it on
her visits to the city, and had been greatly interested by such
glimpses as she could catch of its interior, to say nothing of its gay
flowers, ferns, and other decorations on the outside. Fanny had
been there once, and only once, and she always spoke of it as a
great event in her life; and to both little girls it seemed like a kind
of enchanted fairy palace.
You 've never been to the Hotel Brunswick, but then you 've
been to the Aquarium," said Fanny, "and I 've never been there,
and I do want so to go; and Uncle Ben asked Aunt Fanny if she
would take us to-morrow; but she said she thought she would not
have time. I do wish we could go."
Good-by," said Miss Helen, jumping up in her impulsive way
to take leave. All of you keep your eyes open for a model for my
sick child"; and she was presently gone, driving her pretty little
ponies down the carriage-way.
Contrary to their usual custom, the children did not watch her
out of sight; just now they were quite too much taken up with
the projected excursion to the city on the next day, and with the
desire to obtain Mrs. Pierson's consent to it, to think much more
of Miss Helen and her dainty turnout.
Mrs. Pierson did not hesitate to give her consent: of course
Rosie might go, she always was allowed to go where Annie would
take her, and, indeed, pretty much everywhere else that she chose,
provided there was no very serious objection; for it must be con-


fessed that Rosie was a very much indulged child, and in conse-
quence thereof was sometimes apt to assert her own wishes and
purposes without much regard to those of others.
However, in this case there were no difficulties in the way, no
wish or preference of any one else to consult, and Mrs. Pierson
readily agreed to let her little girl go with her kind elder sister
and Fanny.
Annie Delisle had some shopping to do, and the arrangement
was that she should keep the children with her during the first
part of the morning and until the sun grew oppressive, then take
them to Nurse Campbell's, leave them there for a time while she
visited a friend, and then return for them and take them to the
Hotel Brunswick for their lunch, and, after that, if she had been
able to accomplish her necessary shopping during the early part
of the day, to go with them to the Aquarium.
A most delightful programme, thought Rosie and Fanny; and
you will see how it was carried out.




HY do they squeeze the houses so tight
up together, mamma? "
Y" To shut out God's air and sunlight
from those that must pay to get at them
otherways," said the mother bitterly.
Do they do it on purpose for that ?"
Asked the feeble voice wonderingly,
while the sunken, wistful eyes opened
to their widest extent as they turned
towards the window, through which not
even the smallest patch of blue sky was
to be discerned unless one put one's head quite without.
The mother turned from the table at which she stood ironing,
and as she folded a towel, answered, with some self-reproach in her
tones, "Well, no, dearie, I don't suppose they do it on purpose;
but then those that build these houses don't take much thought
for those that live in them, except to get their rent."
There was a moment's silence as Mrs. Cadle laid the towel upon


the table, took up her iron again, and wearily rubbed it back and
forth, while her thoughts were evidently far from her work. So,
perhaps, were those of the little one who lay upon a couch, formed
of two chairs tied together, some comforters and pillows. The
room, although poor and scantily furnished, was neat as hands could
make it, as was the dress of the mother and child, and there was
an air of thrift and tidiness about both and in all their surround-
ings which proved that poverty, no matter how hardly it had
pressed upon them, had not as yet sunk them into disregard of
appearances, or made them squalid or slovenly. Upon a bed at the
farther end of the room lay a man in a heavy sleep, although it was
broad day, about noon: it was no drunken stupor, but a sober,
healthy, well-earned sleep, for he was brakeman on a night train,
and six nights of the week he was absent from home, and must
needs take his sleep in the daytime. Several hours of the early
morning, too, were devoted to hard work in the freight-house of
the railroad company by which he was employed, extra work, by
which he earned something more than his regular wages to help
in the daily struggle against sickness, debt, and poverty; and his
wife aided in this by taking in washing and ironing.
George Cadle was an Englishman, a brave, honest, industrious
workman, who had left his home and crossed the sea with his
family in the hope of "bettering" himself in a new, untried land.
But the first year had proved to him and his that there was not
much "better" in the exchange from an English country home


to that in the crowded city where their lot had fallen on their
first arrival. For though George had there at once obtained work,
his youngest girl, the little invalid who lay upon the chairs, had
been taken with a terrible wasting disease, which had left her
helpless and crippled. Sickness had been followed by other trouble,
which had brought expense and loss, so that the little money
which George and his wife had laid by had all melted away, and
they had even been forced to part with some of their furniture
and other prized possessions. But even this had hardly sufficed
to keep want, actual want, from the door, and many a comfort
sorely needed by the ailing child was quite beyond their means.
Since the warm summer weather had begun, little Alice's great
longing had been for the green fields and fresh air and flowers of
her well-remembered English home, cooped up as she was within
the walls of two close rooms in a city tenement-house. On
Sunday afternoon the father would carry her in his arms to one
of the parks; but all through the long, weary week, the poor little
child was deprived of the fresh, sweet air for which she longed.
All through his misfortunes and varied troubles, George Cadle
had borne a brave heart, and so had his wife until lately, when,
over-worked, worn out, and anxious, she had become almost de-
spairing, and was inclined to think and speak bitterly and com-
plainingly. But that was less for herself than for her sick child.
To-morrow will be Sunday, and then we can go to the Park,
and see the grass and the trees and the flowers," said little Alice,


breaking the silence, and brightening with the thought. I 'm so
glad; ain't you, mamma ?"
Yes, dear; if it was n't for the Sundays, I don't know where
we'd be," answered the mother, with a glance at the slumbering
form of her husband.
I wish there was just one flower left to wait with till to-morrow,"
sighed the child. They seemed to go sooner this week, did n't
they, mamma ? "
"'Cause the weather was so warm," answered Mrs. Cadle; then,
trying to speak cheerily at the first token of complaint in her child's
voice, she added, Never mind; perhaps we'll find a good lot
to-morrow, enough to last you till the next Sunday."
The flowers they spoke of were only a few daisies which they
had been suffered to gather by a sympathizing policeman, who
forbore to warn them "off the grass" when he saw the wistful
face of the little invalid in her father's arms.
As Alice spoke, there came a rap at the door.
Perhaps it might be Mrs. Campbell," said Alice, looking as if
she would be glad if it were Mrs. Campbell.
Come in!" said Mrs. Cadle; and in answer the door was flung
wide, revealing not only Mrs. Campbell, but that which to Alice's
eyes seemed almost a dazzling vision. It was a sight that was so
unusual there, that it was small wonder the little cripple was almost
bewildered when it met her eyes.
In the open doorway stood the stout figure of Mrs. Campbell, -



" Nurse Campbell," as you have heard her called: that was nothing
unusual, for she was a frequent and always a welcome visitor; but
before the ample background she afforded, stood two little girls
about Alice's age, but beautifully dressed, and each one holding a
bouquet of the loveliest flowers. They stood there for a moment,
half shyly, but looking at Alice with smiling eyes which seemed to
ask a welcome.
Perhaps you may recognize them, although Alice could not, for
the good reason that she had never seen them before.
But it may be as well to state how these unexpected visitors came
to be here.
Two more beaming faces than those of Fanny Delisle and Rosie
Pierson when they appeared at the railway station at Glenwood on
that Saturday morning, it would have been hard to find; indeed,
I may say three, for young Mrs. Delisle looked almost as radiant
and as full of enjoyment as did her little charges.
Miss Helen Shaw was at the station also, having accompanied
thither a friend who had been spending some days with her; and
as Rosie, who was full of business, ran up to her, and asked if there
were anything they could do for her in town, she answered laugh-
ingly, Yes, bring me a model." And as the train moved off, and
she waved her hand to the two sparkling, excited faces at the car
window, her last words were, Don't forget the model."
"Oh! said Rosie to Fanny, "we never could do that. Why
don't she ask us to do some really, truly thing that we could do?


Don't you like to have a lot of things to buy, Fanny, and to come
home with lots of bundles ? "
Yes," said Fanny, "gen'ally I do; but I don't want a great
deal of shopping to do to-day, 'cause I want Aunt Annie to have
time to take us to the Aquarium."
Mrs. Delisle kept the children with her while shopping during
the early part of the day, and then she took them up to Nurse
Campbell's, where she was to leave them for an hour or so.
Nurse was delighted to see her little nursling, Rosie, and she had
also a warm welcome for Rosie's young friend. The old woman
had two or three neat rooms in a tenement-house where many other
poor people lived, and as she was better off than most of her neigh-
bors, and had a heart overflowing with goodness and sympathy, she
found ways and means for many a kind turn for those about her.
"Well, now, my honeys," she exclaimed, as Fannie and Rosie
proceeded to unpack the little baskets they had brought with them,
and to display the simple treasures they contained, -a few fresh
eggs, some nice strawberries, and some lovely flowers, -" Well, now,
my honeys, to think of your taking the trouble to bring all these to
old mammy. A sight they are to see, too, for not a strawberry
have I tasted yet this year; for they are too dear yet for the likes
of us, though they do say they are plenty. Well, well, and right
fresh from your own garden, too; this is a treat. And the beautiful
eggs, just fresh laid, they're uncommon hereabouts, and the posies!
Well, did I ever see the like of these roses? I think you 've picked


the best on the trees for your old nurse, my dears. Dear, dear!
don't the breath of them carry me out to the country? I could n't
tell you the way I long for it sometimes, more specially since this
last spell of warm weather, for it just seemed to take all the life out
of one, shut up here in such close rooms; an' only for the boys,
which can't abide bein' parted from their old mother, I 'd just come
back to ye, Rosie, my dear. 'Times I don't know as I can bide in
the city all the rest of me days."
But you need n't, 'cause mamma wants you to come out and see
us, mammy," said Rosie. She says, pack up your bag and come
back with sister and us this afternoon, and stay a week or longer,
and if you can't come this afternoon, come Monday, or as soon as
you can."
Indeed, that I will come on Monday," answered mammy, for
it's just a sniff of Glenwood air that I'm hankerin' after; and
a thankless old woman I was even to find a thought of fault
with the home the boys have for me, an' me no ways tied down, but
free to go an' come as I please. An' to think of them that's so bad
off, as there are many even in this very house, an' with no way out
of it. O my dears," with a look at the flowers and berries which
the little girls had just finished taking from their baskets, -"O
my dears, now if you did n't mind, and would n't think I did n't set
store by your gifts, if you would just give a share to a poor child
that's in this house on the floor above, -a cripple she is, an' will
never walk again, though she don't know that, an' she shut up the


week long, only Sunday when the father takes her for a breath of
fresh air in the Park. Honest, decent, hardworking people they are,
an' ye can see not used to such poor ways, neither, not such hard
poor, that is, an' little Alice just a cravin' for the green fields and
flowers that she's been used to till your heart would ache for her.
There's another girl, little Olive, they call her; but I don't take
much stock in her; I don't see how such decent folks came to have
the like of her. She's a bold kind of a child, an' to my thinkin'-
well, I 've no call to be speaking ill of her to you. But now if you
would but take the half of the eggs an' flowers an' berries to little
Alice, they're greatly more needed there than by me not that
I'd have you think I don't set store by them, but the poor child
has had but a few strawberries this year, an' they'd be that refreshin'
to her."
Nurse Campbell did not tell, garrulous as she was, that the few
strawberries Alice had enjoyed had been a gift from her, a basket
brought to her by one of her sons as a rare treat, but sacrificed by
her to the sick child up stairs.
"An' if ye 'd just bring yourselves, my dears, an' let her see your
bonny faces, 't would give her something to talk about an' think about
for days, for it's little diversion of any kind she has, poor lamb! "
Rosie and Fanny professed themselves quite willing to have
Nurse Campbell share their gifts with her little invalid neighbor,
and being quite interested, they agreed to go up with her to bestow

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So, having divided flowers, berries, and eggs (Nurse Campbell
would have put by far the largest half of each in the share for the
sick child if her little guests would have allowed her), Rosie and
Fanny followed the old woman to the door of Mrs. Cadle's room;
and thus it was that the unaccustomed view greeted the eyes of
little Alice when her mother answered the rap by a Come in! "
and Nurse Campbell flung wide the door.
I've brought my little ladies to see you," she said by way of
introduction; leastways," laying her hand on Rosie's shoulder, this
one is my own, the child I nursed from her birth, like all the rest
that came before her, till two years ago, when the boys would have
me to keep house for them; and this one is 'most as good as
belongin' to me, now that Miss Annie is married to the doctor
an' this dear little one 's his niece."
Mrs. Cadle had put down her iron, and now coming forward, bade
her visitors welcome, while Alice had not once taken her eyes from
the two children who now came in with the old nurse.
Fanny hung back a little shyly, she was rather a timid child,
- but Rosie, who had no fear of man before her eyes, rushed for-
ward, and scattered upon Alice's bed the lovely flowers she held.
But dearly as Alice loved flowers, and much as she had been
longing for them, she hardly noticed them at first, so astonished
and fascinated was she at the sight of the two little ladies before her.
For though she had seen such dainty young damsels from a dis-
tance, she had never come into close contact with them, and she


hardly knew what to make of this, of having them stand here be-
side her, showering flowers upon her bed and smiling into her face.
Where had they come from? What did they mean? She hardly
heard Nurse Campbell's explanation, or knew that this was her own
pet nursling, although the old woman had often amused her by
talking to her of Rosie and the family where she had done faithful
service for so long.
But Rosie, whose gift of speech was more ready, or at least less
timid than that of Fanny, soon enlightened her.
Yes," she said, taking up her nurse's words, yes, I 'm Nurse
Campbell's own baby, and we come to see her very often, and most
gen'ally we bring her flowers and things, and she likes 'em, and so
we brought her some to-day, and she told us all about you, how
ill you are, and how good and patient you are, and don't fret at
all hardly, and said she wanted you to have some of the flowers
and eggs and berries, half of them, so it's her present, not ours.
Next time we come, we'll bring some on purpose for you. Fanny,
why don't you give her yours ? "
Thus adjured, Fanny, who was quite bewildered by her novel
surroundings, for she had never been in any poverty-stricken home
before, came forward, and put her flowers into the hands of Alice.
Then the berries and fresh eggs were presented, and soon all con-
straint was removed on both sides; the three children were talking
together, Rosie and Fanny plying Alice with questions as to how
long she had been sick, if she were not tired of lying there, and so


Why did n't you send for my uncle, Dr. Delisle ? asked Fanny.
" He would have cured you right away; he's the very best doctor
that ever was made, and he can cure anybody in the city if they
only send for him. He 's perfectly splendid."
Rosie pursed up her lips behind Fanny's back, for the latter was
standing a little in front of her, and looked disbelieving; for this,
you know, was the one subject on which they did not altogether
agree, Rosie, although somewhat reconciled to Dr. Delisle, not
having quite such an exalted opinion of him as that which Fanny
held; but she had learned not to express too open disapproval of
her brother-in-law's merits; for Fanny, gentle and amiable as she
was, always resented that furiously.
The gentleman would likely not care for a patient the like of
her, my dear," said Mrs. Cadle; "and anyway, we've no money to
spend on new doctors; the dispensary ones have been real good and
kind, but they all say the one thing, and that's not to be had
by us."
Yes, he would," said Fanny indignantly, noticing only the first
part of Mrs. Cadle's speech. He would care about her very
much, and without any money, too! He does lots of charity."
But Rosie took up the word here before Mrs. Cadle could answer.
What is the one thing you can't have ? Port wine ? asked
Rosie, who knew that this was sometimes given to people who were
ill to strengthen them.
No, dear; it's just God's free gifts, or what he meant to be free,


- his own fresh air and sunshine, and not by spells of a Sunday or
so, but constant, for a while, at least."
There was a tone of bitterness in Mrs. Cadle's voice which some-
how kept Rosie and Fanny from asking any more questions; she
frightened them a little, so they turned to Alice again.
Nurse Campbell was just about to suggest that it was time to be
going back to her room lest Mrs. Delisle should return for her
little companions, when the door opened rather violently, and a girl
stood upon the threshold, -a girl with bold, bright eyes and flushed
cheeks, and a pert, saucy way, as great a contrast, with her looks
of perfect health and free independence, to puny, frail little Alice
as it would be easy to imagine; and Nurse Campbell at once
hastened the movements of her young ladies when she saw her.
The new-comer had a basket on her arm, which she dropped
upon the floor after one moment's stare at the visitors, and coming
forward exclaimed, Oh! what a good smell! What is it ? Straw-
berries? Oh! "
Where are your manners ? asked her mother, much mortified,
as it was easy to see. Don't you see the little ladies ? But you
never had any manners and never will, let one do what one may.
But the berries are not for you. Pick up the basket and put it
away. Where's the money? "
The child handed her mother some money, which the woman
took and counted, a look of relief coming to her anxious face as she
did so, as though she had half expected to find it wrong. But


Fanny and Rosie did not notice this, or if they did, would not have
understood it. Mrs. Campbell understood, however, or thought
she did.
That girl don't look much as if she was Alice's sister," said
Rosie when they had taken leave, promising Alice to send her some
more flowers and fruit, and as they were going down stairs to Nurse
Campbell's room.
No, she don't," said Nursey shortly; "and I don't take much
stock in that girl."
Don't what ? asked Fanny.
I mean I don't think she's a very good girl," said Nurse.
" Maybe it's partly the way her mother deals with her; she means
right, but she don't take just the right way to my thinking. "
"Well, she ought to be done something to," said Rosie indig-
nantly. I turned round just as we were going, and she was
making a face at us, a perfectly awful, ought-to-be-ashamed-of-
herself face, and we never did a thing to her, but just went there
to be kind to Alice. I never saw such a girl!"





when Mrs. Delisle came in to take her
sister and niece away with her, and, of
course, she must hear without delay of the
_43,.\ young invalid and her family. Nurse
S. Campbell had her good word for them,
"too; and the children told of the poor
little cripple's pining for fresh air and green fields.
"Could not the mother take her for an airing occasionally?"
asked Mrs. Delisle.
She could n't carry her more than a few steps, Miss Annie,
though the poor lamb is so wasted and light, for she's not over and
above strong herself, and sore over-worked, poor soul."
The cars do not run near here, not near enough for the mother
to carry her as far as that, but she might have a cab and go down
to the Staten Island Ferry, and, at least, have the sail back and
forth," said Mrs. Delisle. It is such a lovely day that it would
be well for them to go this afternoon. Suppose you propose it,


Ah, but they've not money enough to spend for cab or steam-
boat fare, Miss Annie," said Nurse. They've debts to pay, and
it's dreadful hard work putting bread in their mouths, and keeping
the roof over their heads on what they have."
I think we can arrange that," said Mrs. Delisle, as Nurse Camp-
bell had known she would do, "that is, if I have not spent too
much money this morning. I was tempted into using more than
I had intended, and was only kept from going farther by the remem-
brance that I had promised you children some little treats this
afternoon. Let me see what I can do."
And taking out her pocket-book, Mrs. Delisle began to count
over her money, while Rosie and Fannie watched her with great
interest, which was shared by Nurse Campbell. But Mrs. Delisle's
face did not look promising as she counted over what she had, and
then shook her head.
I really have been more extravagant than I thought," she said.
" I 'm afraid I cannot spare enough for them to have a cab down
to the ferry and back again. If they could only take the cars it
might be done."
Why, you have lots of money there, sister," said Rosie. "What
are you going to do with all that if you have finished your shop-
ping "
"I have but little over five dollars left, dear," answered her
sister, "and that is hardly more than enough for all we have pro-
posed to do this afternoon, the Aquarium, and our lunch at the


Brunswick. Car and steamboat fare I might spare, but not enough
for the cab, that is, if we carry out our programme," looking from
Fanny to Rosie.
For Mrs. Delisle knew very well how she could spare enough
money to send the crippled child with her mother and Mrs. Campbell
to spend the afternoon in the bracing sea air; but she would not
suggest it unless the children themselves did. She had promised
them this afternoon's pleasure: if they chose to give it up, well and
good, but she would leave it to them to propose it.
And Fanny looked at Rosie, and Rosie looked at Fanny; but, for
a moment, neither one spoke. Something of the same plan was in
the minds of both, but they did not propose to arrive at it by the
same means. You will remember that Rosie had never been to the
Hotel Brunswick, and that Fanny had never been to the Aquarium.
At length the thought that was in Fanny's mind found words.
Aunt Annie," she said, with some hesitation, "does it not cost
more to go to the Brunswick than to have our lunch at some other
place ?"
Yes," answered Mrs. Delisle, we could take a simple lunch
elsewhere at a much smaller price."
Then let's do it," said Fanny; and maybe then you could save
enough to let Alice have the cab this afternoon. Let's!"
But at this Rosie instantly burst forth.
"Ah, now! Are n't you good? You 've been at the
Brunswick and I have n't. That's very hateful of you, Fanny.


No, we shan't give it up; I won't, anyway. Why don't you say,
Don't let's go to the Aquarium? "
Rosie spoke in a way very unusual for her to use to her little
friend, and she looked very angry and disagreeable as she did so.
She had quite set her heart on the lunch at the Hotel Brunswick,
and she felt provoked at the idea of giving it up.
Fanny's delicate, fair skin flushed scarlet all over, and she looked
hurt, as well she might; for she was never selfish with Rosie, and
had she never taken a lunch at this famous restaurant, it would
have seemed far less of a sacrifice to give that up than to resign the
visit to the Aquarium.
And Rosie was ashamed and sorry the moment she had uttered
this unkind and undeserved speech, especially when she looked up
and caught her sister's eye fixed reproachfully upon her.
Well, then," said Fanny slowly and reluctantly, we we might
give up the Aquarium; shall we, Aunt Annie? -and let them have
the cab to go to the Island ? "
Do you think you will not be sorry afterward, darling? asked
Mrs. Delisle.
I might be sorry, I know I shall be sorry," said dear, generous,
little Fanny, -"sorry about the Aquarium, I mean; btt I would do
it all the same to let poor Alice go."
She might wait till another day, when Sister Annie can send
her some money," said Rosie, feeling very much ashamed, very
unwilling to give up either of the promised pleasures, and still


wishing to arrange a way by which Alice might have the trip at
some time.
But," said Fanny, it's such a pleasant day to-day, and Alice
looks so white and thin and tired, and I think when we go back to
our nice, fresh air in Glenwood, we might feel very sorry to think
she did n't have her sail to-day. No, I 'd rather let her go to-day
and wait for the Aquarium till another time, if you don't mind that,
Rosie. We can wait better than she can."
Yes, I 'd just as lief," said Rosie, in a low tone and with some
hesitation, not, as her Sister Annie knew, because she was unwilling
to give this up too, but because she was ashamed of the contrast
between herself and Fanny in the matter of generosity and self.
sacrifice. So it was arranged. Mrs. Delisle took some of the
money from her porte-monnaie, enough to send Alice and her
mother and Mrs. Campbell down to the Island that afternoon, and
at Mrs. Campbell's request her guests went up stairs again that they
might ask Mrs. Cadle to take this little trip for the benefit of her
child, -an offer which was gratefully accepted, after which they said
good-bye and came away.
But when they were in the street again, Rosie, who had been
very quiet and serious, almost sullen, since it had been decided that
the Aquarium was to be given up, suddenly burst into tears, heedless
of the passers-by.
Why, what is the matter, Rosie ? asked her sister, although
she could have given a good guess.

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"Oh, 'cause I 'm horrid! I 'm just perfectly horrid!" sobbed
Rosie. I think it was real, real mean in me! "
Now, to tell the truth, Fanny too had thought Rosie rather mean
in insisting upon going to take lunch at that particular restaurant
when they could have done quite well in some less expensive place,
and still have enough to send Alice on her trip, and go themselves
to the Aquarium; but she had said no word of this. But now,
when she saw Rosie so repentntat and blaming herself, she forgot
this, and she begged her little friend not to be so much distressed,
for she did not mind so very much about the Aquarium.
But I 'm always the selfishest," said Rosie, in a paroxysm of
disgust at herself, "and you're always the giving-up-est! I wish,
oh, I wish I had said I would give up this time! "
It is not too late now, Rosie," said her sister, "if you really
mean to do so. And I would not cry in the street."
Is it not too late? Can I give up now? asked Rosie, ceasing
to sob and brightening a little.
Yes, of course," said Mrs. Delisle. If you choose, we can go
somewhere and take a simple lunch, and still have enough money
left for the Aquarium."
I won't take any lunch at all," said Rosie. I 'd rather serve
myself right."
But Mrs. Delisle said that would not do at all. Rosie could not
go all day without anything to eat; if she did, she would be ill.
When Rosie had been a little naughty or selfish, and later saw her


fault, she was apt to take these sudden and violent fits of repentance,
and propose some punishment for herself which was quite unneces-
sary and could do no good either to herself or to the person whom
she thought she had injured. Sometimes she was allowed to take
her own way if it afforded her satisfaction to do so; but now Sister
Annie was quite decided, and would not allow her to go hungry all
day for the sake of punishing herself for a little wilfulness, already
repented of. And I am not quite sure if Rosie's resolution would
have been proof against the nice sandwiches and buns and cool
milk which were set before them at the restaurant where Mrs.
Delisle now took them, and I am bound to say that she enjoyed her
simple lunch quite as much as either of her companions, and was
as well satisfied as she would have been with the French dishes and
courses promised to them and which she had chosen to resign.
And then," as she said to Fanny, as they left the restaurant,
" the pleasure is not all eaten up, and we have still the Aquarium,
and can think, too, about Alice and her mother and dear old nursey
enjoying themselves, and Alice getting so much good."
Then came the Aquarium, and here Rosie was rewarded by wit-
nessing the performances of the wonderful trained horses, which she
had never seen before, as they had just been put on exhibition.
When they entered the train which was to take them home to
Glenwood, among the first persons they saw were Miss Helen Shaw
and her sister, Miss Adelaide, and they took seats in their neighbor-
hood. These young ladies had come down by a later train than that


taken by our party, and quite unexpectedly, so that Mrs. Delisle,
Fanny, and Rosie were quite surprised to see them.
Well," said Miss Helen to the children, who were on the seat
in front of her, well, and how have you enjoyed yourselves to-day?
Did you leave anything in the larder of the Hotel Brunswick ? "
Oh, we did not go to the Hotel Brunswick," said Rosie. We
did charity instead."
Well, and have you been charitable to me and brought me a
model ? laughed Miss Helen.
Helen has had no eyes for anything but the poor children she
has met to-day," said Miss Adelaide; but she could find none that
would answer her purpose."
"No," said Helen, they all looked as if their dirt and rags
positively agreed with them, and not one among them was in the
least desirable for a model for my little hospital patient. And you,
Rosie and Fanny, have done nothing for me! How unkind! I
thought better things of you."
Rosie looked at Fanny and Fanny looked at Rosie, as the same
thought struck both; but Rosie, as usual, was spokeswoman, and
said gleefully, -
Oh, but we have! We have, Miss Helen, found the most
splendidly unhealthy looking child you ever saw," splendid"
was a great word with Rosie, as you will perceive, and was used on
all occasions without any regard to its fitness, -" and she will just
do for a model. She looks awfully sick and thin and just fit for
a hospital. She will do beautifully, won't she, Fanny? "


Yes, but she is in the city, so how can Miss Helen paint her ?"
said Fanny doubtfully; "unless," she added, we could find some
way to bring her to Glenwood. Could we, do you think, Aunt
Annie? turning to Mrs. Delisle.
It would be the best thing in the world for the poor child if
we could," said Mrs. Delisle, who had been haunted all the afternoon
by the recollection of the little waxen face and wasted figure, so
unlike those of her own young relatives, pining for the fresh air
from which poverty and a hard lot had shut her out. Yes, I wish
we could think of some way to give her the change she needs."
Would she really do for a model for my picture, Annie ? asked
Miss Helen.
"Just the very face you want, I should judge," answered her
friend. It struck me the moment I looked at her, and I wished
then that you could see her. Suppose I take you there, Helen, and
you ask her parents to permit you to paint her ?"
"There! with such surroundings! exclaimed Helen, who was
especially fastidious, and always shrank from anything unpleasant.
" I could never paint in a poverty-stricken place such as I suppose
your protegee lives in."
It's not 'stricken' at all, Miss Helen," said Fanny, upon whom
this word had made a disagreeable impression, although she did
not know exactly what it meant. "It is quite clean and decent
where she lives, if it is poor, and the little girl looked very nice, too,
only not very prettily dressed."


I was wishing," said Mrs. Delisle, still speaking to Miss Helen,
"that we could bring the child to Glenwood, and give her there the
benefit of the change she needs so much, and then she would do
admirably for you, Helen. She has really a lovely face and just
the expression you would need for your picture. In any case, I
think I shall bring her up for a week or two if I can find a place
where she may board, for I have some money which was given to
me with which to 'do charity,' as Rosie says, and I think I can find
no better use for it than this. What do you say, Fanny and Rosie ? "
Fanny's looks were enough as she beamed radiantly with satis-
faction upon her aunt; and Rosie broke into an ecstasy of approba-
tion which drew the attention and caused the amusement of all who
were near her.
The next question was that of a place where the little invalid
might board.
Perhaps Mrs. Roberts might be persuaded to take her," said
Miss Helen. You know she professes to be so very grateful for
all that has been done for her Jessie that I should think she would
do anything to oblige us, or to do some good to another."
"Yes, I am sure she would be glad of the opportunity," said
Mrs. Delisle; that is a good idea, Helen. We will go and ask her
to-morrow, and if she consents, have the child brought up at once, if
her parents will agree."
The expectations of the ladies were more than realized. Mrs.
Roberts, when asked if she would give a home and care to the


crippled child, remembering with gratitude that her own adopted
daughter had been spared from the helpless condition which it was
at one time thought must be her lot, not only agreed to take the
little Alice to board in her house for a couple of months, but also
positively refused to take any pay for the same.
It would be unbecoming of me if I could not do that," she said,
when applied to by the ladies, it would be so; and a poor way of
showing my thanks to the Providence that lets me see my Jessie
*walking about on her own two feet and never a limp, in place of
lyin' on her back all her days, and those to be none too many, as
we all thought six months back."
So it was arranged to the satisfaction of all concerned, especially
to that of the children of Glenwood, who had become interested in
the little Alice by the reports of her brought by Fanny and Rosie.
The only trouble in the way, the only objection raised by Mrs.
Roberts, was that she had neither bed nor bedstead to spare for
the use of the crippled child. That she should allow her to be put
in her immaculate spare room was not to be imagined for one
instant: even Jessie had not been put there when she was ill.
This sacred chamber had little use beyond the monthly sweep-
ing, dusting, scrubbing, and bed-making to which it was subjected,
after which the windows and shutters were again closed, to remain so
until the next cleaning time arrived. Once in a great while, some
stray clergyman, or once in every two years, a cousin of Mrs.
Roberts, were honored visitors, and kept up the feeling that this was


a guest-chamber; but Jessie regarded it with even more awe and
respect than she did the parlor directly beneath, where she had lain
during the long and tedious illness from which she had now so
happily nearly recovered. Not so her brother Joe; he was no
respecter of persons, places, or things: "the best bedroom" had
no charms for him, and he was not inclined to trespass within
" the pesky, old, shut-up-hole," as he called it, to the horror of the
much scandalized Jessie.
But there was a small room on the ground floor, now used as a
kind of lumber-room, or put-all, which Mrs. Roberts could and would
give up for the accommodation of Alice, if she had but a bedstead
or cot for her, and this the ladies offered to provide, with the neces-
sary bedding.




S'AMMA," said Rosie Pierson upon the evening of the day
on which these arrangements had been concluded with
Mrs. Roberts, "mamma, I wish you were poor."
Mrs. Pierson looked up surprised, as did the elder and the
younger Mrs. Delisle, who, with Fanny, were both passing the day
at her house.
Thank you, my love," she said, so do not I."
Oh, I don't mean beggar poor, not starving poor," said Rosie,
" but poor enough not to have all the clothes you want."
Still I cannot join in your wish," said her mother, while Sister
Annie, believing she knew whence arose this extraordinary desire,
You want to copy Ben, Rosie ?"
Yes, I want to be a hero-ess. I want to make a sacrifice for
mamma. I think it's lovely," said Rosie, tying a sash about her
doll's waist, and then holding it at arm's length to observe the effect.
What's a hero-ess ? asked Fanny.
A heroine," corrected Sister Annie.


"Heroine!" repeated Rosie. "Why, don't you know, Fanny?
It's the she of a hero, and I want to be one for mamma. It's to
make a great sacrifice of yourself for some one."
You may make some sacrifices and be a little heroine without
making it needful for mamma to become poor, Rosie," said young
Mrs. Delisle.
But it would be so lovely in me if mamma was poor," persisted
Rosie. I want to be like Ben, Sister Annie."
Who is Ben ? asked Fanny.
Oh, I forgot you did not know that story," said Rosie. Sister
Annie, won't you read it again, so Fanny can hear it ? I 'd like it too."
Oh, yes, please do, Aunt Annie! pleaded Fanny.
So coaxed, the ever-indulgent aunt and sister sent Rosie for the
paper which contained the story referred to by Rosie, and read as
follows : -
They lay on the shelf in the closet, all ready for the next day's
wear, the new jacket and pantaloons, the first really, truly jacket
and pants,' as Ben called them, which it had ever been his fortune
to possess; for hitherto Ben's clothes had been of an undecided,
rather mongrel nature, being made of such materials as came to
hand, and of such patterns as could be contrived by his mamma,
who was, as she herself said, no great hand at tailoring.' He had
worn little kilted skirts, of a rather peculiar style, too, and equally
unfashionable jackets, until his papa said it was really a shame to
have so big a boy so dressed; and he had been well laughed at by


boys of his own age who rejoiced in 'store jackets and pants.' The
only suit he had ever had, that which he was wearing now, had
then been cut down by mamma from an old one of papa's; but Ben
had never been very proud of it, and mamma always sighed over it
when she looked at it, as if she by no means thought much of her
handiwork; and as for the boys,- why, the boys made just as much
fun of this as they had done of his skirts, and were always asking
him who was his tailor. And even these were now out at the elbows
and knees, and had been patched more than once.
But a day or two since, when Ben had been out with his mother,
they had seen some boys' suits, -' real suits,' marvellously cheap,
so mamma said, and she had tried some on him, and then oh, de-
light! actually bought one for him. And to-morrow was Sunday,
when he was to wear it for the first time; and his pleasure and
excitement were so high that he could not sleep for thinking of the
new clothes and how like a big boy he should feel when he had them
on. And as he lay, proud and happy, on his little bed, he heard papa
and mamma and Sister Nellie talking in the next room, for the door
stood open. When he went to bed, he had left mamma mending
her old black dress and Nellie darning stockings.
"'It is a sore trouble to me,' said papa, 'to see you patching up
that old dress, when I hoped you would have a new one before this
"'Never mind!' said mamma cheerily. 'It is worth waiting two
months longer for my dress to see Ben's pleasure in his new


clothes. Dear little fellow! he deserves them, for he has been so
good and patient.'
Ben raised his head. What did this mean ?
"' But the worst is,' said Nellie,' that your dress is not half warm
enough, mamma; and Ben's clothes were quite warm if they were
not very fine or fashionable.'
"' I could not bear to disappoint him again,' said mamma, in her
soft and gentle tones. He was so eager when he saw the clothes
in Brinsmade's, and they were really so cheap, that I thought it a
pity to let the chance slip. Besides, Ben's old clothes are almost
past mending, they were so poor in the beginning, and he is really
too big a boy to go longer in kilts; the other boys laugh at him,
and I would not have him mortified and distressed for a dozen
new dresses.'
The dear mother! So she had given up the new dress, so long
needed, so much talked of, in order that he might have that suit of
clothes. And when would she have it now ? Not for two months,
at least, it seemed, perhaps not for longer, it was so hard to save
"anything to lay by; for, as even little Ben knew, the question of
ways and means was a very serious one in his family. It was hard
work to provide food and clothing and other necessary things out
of the small salary which papa earned now; and he knew how hard
mamma and Nellie worked and mended to keep garments that were
even decent and whole upon himself and the younger children.
Mamma's new dress! Had she really given it up that he might


have this suit of which he had been so proud, and she was not warm
enough in the old one ? for he heard papa still talking about it, and
saying that he feared she would take cold now that the winter was
coming on.
And Ben buried his head in the pillow, while great tears of
mingled love, gratitude, and sorrow started to his eyes; and his
little heart, sore with a pain it had never known before, no, not
even when the boys laughed at him, raised itself to the great
Helper. He did not quite know what to ask for, or, at least, how
to ask it, so he said his evening prayers over again, Now I lay me
down to sleep,' and then the Lord's Prayer; and when he came to
the petition, Give us this day our daily bread,' he added, 'and our
daily clothes, too; and that means a new dress for mamma, as quick
as you can let it come; dear Father in Heaven.'
He lay awake after this for a long, long time, and he heard
them still talking in the other room; but he was not interested in
what they were saying now, for they had ceased to speak of his new
clothes and mamma's lost dress, and he had an idea in his head,
and lay thinking whether he should carry it out, and whether he
could carry it out, for it would be hard oh, very hard to resolve
to do it.
Sunday morning dawned, not bright and sunny as he hoped it
would be when he went to bed on Saturday night, but in a pouring
rain and howling wind, a hard, bitter storm which kept the whole
family, except papa, within doors, for they were none of them too


well provided with waterproof garments, or other protection against
such weather. But, to the surprise of all, Ben expressed no disap-
pointment, although he did seem rather quiet and thoughtful and
unlike himself, so that mamma, believing he wanted to wear his
new clothes, offered to let him put them on. But Ben said, No, he
did not care to do so,' and although Nellie rather urged it upon
him, he, to her surprise, persisted in his refusal to put them on.
Still he remained very thoughtful, for his little mind was full of a
certain purpose.
His little mind! Nay, I think Ben had a great mind and a
great, noble heart, and both were now full of a great resolve.
The next morning, soon after breakfast, when papa had gone to
the factory, mamma to market, and Nellie was washing the break-
fast dishes, Ben slipped into the closet and took up the new suit,
which lay nicely folded in the brown paper in which it had come
from the store. Tucking it under his arm, without trusting himself
with so much as another look at it, he ran down the stairs, out of
the house, and all the way to Mr. Brinsmade's store.
There was a gentleman in the store talking to Mr. Brinsmade,
and Ben waited till he was through before he made known his own
business, although he was anxious to have it over. At last the
gentleman took a seat, saying he would 'wait till the train came in,'
and Mr. Brinsmade was at leisure.
Well, Ben, my boy, what can I do for you ?' he asked in his
hearty, cheery voice. Ah !' seeing the parcel which Ben had laid


upon the counter, new clothes don't suit, hey ? Why, I thought
they fitted to a T.'
Ben choked back something in his throat, and winking his eyes
very hard, said, with a quiver in his voice,' You you sometimes
exchange things, don't you, Mr. Brinsmade ?'
"' Certainly,' answered Mr. Brinsmade. You can have another
suit if this is not right. 'What did your mamma say was the trouble
with this ?'
Nothing, sir,' said Ben, 'only only I don't want another
suit, but something else.'
"' Oh, ho!' said Mr. Brinsmade, 'mother changed her mind, has
she ?'
"' No, sir, not mamma; but I have,' said Ben, drawing himself
up, and trying to speak bravely.
"' Well, and what do you want instead of the suit?' asked Mr.
Brinsmade, looking steadily at the boy. 'We will see what we can
do in the way of an exchange.'
If Ben had had eyes or thought for anything beyond the busi-
ness in hand, he might have noticed that the gentleman, too, was
looking at him over the top of his paper.
"' You see, Mr. Brinsmade,' said Ben, 'mamma was saving up for
a new, warm dress for herself, but she wanted me to have the clothes
'cause she knew I wanted them, so she gave up the dress and bought
me the clothes, only I did n't know it till Saturday night when I
heard them all talking about it, and they said mamma was n't warm

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enough, and I am warm enough in the old clothes, even if the boys
do laugh at me; so it was very convenient that a rainy Sunday
came, so that I need n't tell why I did not want to wear the clothes.
And so, Mr. Brinsmade, if you would n't mind taking back the suit,
and giving me some nice, warm stuff for a dress for mamma.'
"' Does your mother know of this ?' asked Mr. Brinsmade kindly.
'No, sir, if she did, she would n't let me do it; she 's the un-
selfishest mother ever lived, my mother is; but you know, Mr.
Brinsmade, I should feel awful mean in clothes all over diamonds
and gold if my mother was cold.'
"' Ahem !' said 'Mr. Brinsmade, turning round to the shelves
behind him, and pretending to be busy there, although he could not
well be looking for a dress for Ben's mother among cups and saucers
and plates.
"' Brinsmade !' said the gentleman behind the paper; and then
there was a little whispered talk between him and the store-keeper,
of which Ben heard only these words from Mr. Brinsmade : The
only thing that makes me hesitate is whether the mother would
like it.'
Was this strange gentleman meddling in his affairs, and trying
to persuade Mr. Brinsmade that mamma would not like to have him
make the exchange ? Whether that was so or not, Mr. Brinsmade
did not seem to be affected by what he said; for, with a kind word
and smile to Ben, he went to the other end of the store, and brought
forward several pieces of dark, woollen goods, which he laid before


Ben. There was a little rustle of the newspaper, and a few muttered
words, which sounded to Ben like, Something better than those.'
Who could have said that? Not the gentleman who was read-
ing the newspaper; for surely this was no affair of his.
However that might be, it is certain that Mr. Brinsmade
brought some other and nicer pieces of goods, tossing aside the
first, and bade Ben take his choice from these.
But Ben did not know much about the merit of goods, and
Mr. Brinsmade finally helped him to choose.
"' How many yards shall I give you ?' asked the merchant when
this was done.
"' I don't know, sir,' answered Ben, who had no idea how much
stuff it would take to make a dress for mamma.
Then, a bright idea striking him, he added, 'As much as the
worth of the clothes, I think.'
Ben heard something which sounded like 'Trimmings come
again from behind the newspaper; but, of course, that had nothing
to do with him or with mamma's new dress, for no trimmings were
to be seen while he was in the store, at least, nothing that he called
trimmings; and he was surprised, when Mr. Brinsmade had measured
off what seemed a great number of yards of the stuff, to see him add
to it linings, buttons, sewing silk, braid, and several other little
things, all of which he rolled up with the dress, and handed the
parcel to the boy.
"'But, Mr. Brinsmade,' said Ben, have n't you given me more


than the worth of the clothes ? I have n't any money to pay for such
a lot of things.'
'T would be hard telling the worth of that suit of clothes to
some people, my boy,' said Mr. Brinsmade; 'there's more value in
them than the mere cloth and the making.'
"'Oh, yes, the buttons and pockets I suppose you gave me
mother's buttons for those. Thank you, sir.'
And taking up his bundle, happy Ben ran home, slipped into
the closet, and put the new dress in the very spot where the clothes
had been, then ran off to school, wishing only that he could stay at
home just this morning to see mamma's surprise when she should
find the change.
But mamma's surprise did not come just in that way: it came
in the shape of a parcel and a note from Mr. Brinsmade, a note
which made tears of love and gratitude start to her eyes, and a
parcel which contained, if not the very identical suit of clothes
sacrificed by Ben, one so exactly like it that it was impossible to see
any difference. This was not his doing, Mr. Brinsmade said, and
he was not at liberty to say more; she might give all the credit to
her boy.
I leave you to guess what kind of a welcome Ben had when he
came home from school that day; but he, too, was sorely puzzled
to guess who could have sent him back his suit of clothes.
"And when papa came home that night, he brought a bit of
good news to add to the general happiness, for he had been offered


a place in the factory where he could earn nearly twice as much as
he had done before.
One Sunday, a week or two after this, Ben was walking with
his father, dressed in his new suit, which was an old story by this
time, -when papa touched his hat to some one passing; and Ben,
looking up, saw it was the gentleman who had been in Mr. Brins-
made's store.
"'Who's that, papa?' he asked.
The new master, the gentleman who has bought our factory,
and gave me my new situation the very day after he came,' answered
his father.
'Oh, I saw him before; he was in Mr. Brinsmade's store the
day I changed my clothes for mamma's new dress,' said Ben.
"'Oh ho so that's it !' said his father. 'He was in the store,
was he ? I see it all now; he said he 'd had a talk with Brinsmade,
and I see now what first made him think of me and mine.'
And he looked fondly down on his hero, and mine, little Ben."
There said Rosie exultantly, as her sister concluded the
story, there! Don't you like that, Fanny ; and don't it make you
feel like having your grandmother, or some of your people, poor, so
that you could make a great sacrifice for them, like Ben ? "
Well, I don't think it does," said Fanny, after a moment's
reflection. Once I thought I wanted to make a sacrifice of myself
for grandmamma and Uncle Ben oh, I was very anxious about it,
indeed! and then when there was some little easy thing for me


to do, just staying with grandmamma when I wanted to go out, and
things like that, I found I was not willing to do it at all, but was
very disagreeable about it. I 've grown old enough to be very
much disappointed in myself," added this small Methuselah sol-
emnly. You never know what you think you are till you have
been tried."
Rosie looked admiringly at her little friend as she concluded
this sage reflection; but she was not yet satisfied. Fired by the
example of little Ben, she was burning to distinguish herself by
some act of sacrifice or self-renunciation for her parents or some
one else. She had an uneasy consciousness that it had too often
been with herself as Fanny said it had been with her, that when
called upon to make some trifling sacrifice, to obey some simple
command, she had shown herself rebellious and selfish; and now
she strove to drown these unwelcome remembrances in her present
benevolent intentions.
Well," she said, if there 's nothing for me to do for mamma,
or any of my own people, I 'd like to do it for somebody else, for
some really, truly poor person ; would n't you, Fanny ? "
I think you two little girls did pretty well the other day in
giving up your own pleasure to give lame Alice that trip to Staten
Island," said Mrs. Pierson, fondly smoothing the flowing hair of the
eager little sprite at her side.
But when we 've made a good beginning we ought to keep on,
ought n't we, Mrs. Pierson ? said Fanny sagely.


Certainly," said the lady; but, in spite of the old saying that
'charity begins at home,' I think your benevolent intentions might
as well seek some object outside of your own families."
You mean that we 'd better do charity to some really poor
people, and not want our own people to be poor just to be conven-
ient for us," said Rosie.
Exactly," said Mrs. Pierson; and I do not see why you should
not go on trying to help this poor, little crippled child who is coming
here to Glenwood, and who will need further comfort and help when
she goes back to the city."
Oh, yes; let's do something else, and make more sacrifices for
Miss Helen's model," said Fanny eagerly. And we 'l ask all
the other girls to help us and do something for her, too."
There's a new girl come to Glenwood, you know," said Rosie,
"- Belle Stacy. Shall we ask her to help? "
Belle Stacy? I have not heard that name before," said Mrs.
Pierson; "and who is Belle Stacy? "
"She 's a new girl who came to our dancing-school yesterday,"
answered Rosie. She has old Mr. Berry for her grandfather, and
she has come to stay there, and her mother came with her. She is
nice,-at least, I believe she is; but we're not very acquainted with
her because she's so new."
If we ask her to help us help Miss Helen's model then she
will feel sooner acquainted," said Fanny, "so that would be a very
"good' killing two birds with one stone.' "


So it was agreed that the new-comer to Glenwood, Belle Stacy,
should be asked to join with the other little girls of the place in
their benevolent efforts for the help and comfort of Miss Helen's




S, UT now we must make the acquaintance of
little Belle by introducing ourselves into her
home without ceremony.
When we first meet her, at the very time
when we have left Rosie Pierson and Fanny
Delisle talking of their kind plans for the benefit of Miss Helen's
model, and arranging whom they shall ask to join them, she is look-
ing neither pleasant nor pleased, as she sits with a frown upon her
brow and very puckered lips, gazing vacantly out over the lawn of
her home, and idly kicking one foot against the rail of the settee
on which she had thrown herself, thereby making a noise not very
agreeable to hear.
Before long this continual tap-tapping drew the attention and
grated on the nerves of her grandfather, who sat reading his paper.
Looking around, he saw the discontented face of his pet, but neither
that nor the noise which disturbed him a real naughty-girl kind
of a noise it was called forth a reprimand; indeed, he had hardly
time to utter one before Belle broke forth herself.


i . .,.


-- .J& o't


-. .1.
.{ .- J.
.i; .i



"OurP Mdancin class commenced yesterday." [Pmage 61.


It's the meanest thing I ever knew! she said, in a tone which
corresponded with her expression and manner.
Grandpapa lifted his eyebrows, for such a mood as this was not
a usual thing with Belle.
Hallo, my little Belle! and does not the world wag your way
to-day ?" asked grandpapa, in answer to the pettish exclamation.
No, grandpapa, it does not"; and again the fretful tone
matched well with the overcast face which looked up into that of
grandpapa, although the disagreeable tattoo ceased as Belle rose
from her seat, and came to the elbow of his chair.
But the clouds fled, and sunshine the sunshine which usually
reigned there came back as Belle met the kindly eyes which
looked into her own.
What is the trouble? Come here and sit on my knee, and
tell me all about it," said grandpapa; and presently Belle was estab-
lished on her favorite seat, and pouring out her woes.
Why, you see, grandpapa," she began, our dancing class com-
menced yesterday."
Well, and I thought you liked your dancing class, and the girls
you met there, so much. What has that to do with this miserable
face ? said the old gentleman.
"And so I do like my dancing class, and the girls, too, grand-
papa," answered Belle; "they're real nice; but it makes it horrid
because I have n't any boots but black ones, and all the other girls
in my class have white or pink or blue ones, just according to their


sashes; and I have to wear black ones with every colored sash I
have, and it's so horrid! Aunt Elsie gave me a lovely pink sash,
you know, and I want a pair of boots to match it, and mamma says
she can't afford them. I hate' afford more than any word I ever
heard. I don't like to be so different from the rest of the girls."
H-m! said grandpapa. And how much would these same
pink boots cost ?"
"A whole lot, grandpapa, an enormous lot, -seven dollars, just
think! It's a real shame, and there'd better be a law that shoe-
makers must not ask so much."
Now Grandpapa Barry was not considered very generous or
benevolent by the general public, but his own family had no fault
to find with him on this head; and Belle thought him perfectly
munificent. She would not have asked him to give her the coveted
pink boots, but since he had questioned her, she thought it no harm
to tell him the source of her trouble, and she had a pretty strong
suspicion and hope that he would find the way to relieve it. And
so it proved.
"Well," said the old gentleman, plunging his hand into the
depths of his pocket, and bringing thence his pocket-book, well,
I don't know that there is much use in having a grandpapa if he
cannot turn the world straight for you"; and in another minute
two new crisp bills, a five and a two, were in the hands of the de-
lighted child, who did indeed think that grandpapa had turned
the world in the right groove for her.


She ran to her mother, who gave her all the sympathy she
expected, and as she was going to the city the next day, promised
to take her with her, and buy the longed-for dancing boots.
Belle and her mother accordingly went to town the following
morning, and, compassionating her little girl's impatience to be in
possession of the boots, Mrs. Stacy went first to the shoe-store.
Oh, look, mamma !" cried Belle, when the shoemaker, having
heard what was needed, and taken the measure of her little foot,
brought a dozen or so of pairs of delicate kid boots of various
colors; "look, look! just the loveliest color, exactly to match my
new sash and she pointed to a pink pair, which were, as she said,
of just the needed shade. Belle was particularly fascinated by the
buttons upon the pair she had selected, which were of a pinkish
To Belle's delight, they fitted perfectly, and were purchased.
It is the last pair we have of them," said the shoemaker, as he
drew off the boot he had tried upon Belle's foot. Those buttons
take the eye of all the little girls."
Just as he was about rolling the shoes in paper, another cus-
tomer, with her mother, entered the store.
This was Clara Parish, who had gone to live at Glenwood just
about the time that Belle's family came to that place, but who was
by no means making her way with her new friends and classmates
there as Belle Stacy had done, although she was not an entire
stranger to some of the juvenile circle with which we have met. She,


too, was a member of the same school and dancing class; and Belle,
who had formed her own opinion of her, and that not without reason
and justice, had that very morning declared that she had sashes
of every color with boots to match; but, for all that, she was the
spoiledest thing that ever lived "; and the verdict was not far from
true, for she was one of the most selfish of children, and appeared
to believe that everything and every one ought to yield to her.
As she now came forward with her mother, and saw what the
shoemaker had in his hand, the expression of her face changed, and,
springing towards him, she exclaimed in a cross tone : -
Now you have n't gone and sold that pair of boots I wanted!
Yes, they are the very pair I saw here in the window, and wanted
'cause the buttons are so lovely; and I told you to keep them for
me, and mamma has come to buy them."
But you know I did not promise to keep them, miss, and they
have been bought by this young lady," said the shoemaker.
But I told you to keep them, and I saw them first; and you
had no right to buy them, Belle Stacy," said Clara, almost fiercely.
" I am going to have them, so now "
But Belle held fast to the boots which the shoemaker had now
handed her, and would not acknowledge Clara's claim; indeed, there
was no reason why she should.
Then followed quite a scene, Clara insisting upon her right to
have the boots because she had seen them first; but as Belle had the
right of possession, she walked away with them, leaving the little


termagant in a sad state, declaring if she could not have that pair
she would not have any, and throwing from her all those which the
shoemaker brought for her approval.
That was Clara's way; when she could not have just the thing
she wanted, she would not be satisfied with anything in its place,
and to see another have that on which she had set her heart was
quite unendurable.
And when, some hours later, she met Belle at the depot, she
had by no means recovered from her disappointment, but scowled
and pouted at Belle as if she considered herself to have been de-
frauded of her just due in the most unrighteous manner, while Belle
clung to her prize as if she feared it would be wrested from her, and
each one regarded the other with the most unfriendly eyes.
But a new turn was given to the thoughts of both children soon
after they had taken their seats in the cars, and before the train
A gentleman whom Belle and Claraknew to be a doctor, and,
as Belle said, very queerly mixed up with Fanny Delisle and
Rosie Pierson," came into the cars, followed by a working-man bear-
ing in his arms a little girl. Behind him came a woman carrying
pillows and wraps, and looking very anxious and tearful. The
child's face was so wan and pinched, that Belle, who had a most
tender little heart, was fairly startled as she met the gaze of the
hollow eyes which looked out from it. Next to the woman came
another girl, as sturdy and healthy looking as the other was feeble


and delicate; and as her eyes fell upon our party, she met their
glances with a bold look which seemed to Belle to say, I have as
much right here as you."
But neither Belle nor Clara thought much of this child after the
first moment; their attention was absorbed by the little invalid,
whose friends were now placing her upon a seat, and making her
as comfortable as possible for the trip.
0 mamma," said Belle, what is the matter with that little
girl ? Can't she walk? "
Mrs. Stacy turned to the other girl, who stood just at her elbow,
still staring at Belle, and asked the same question.
It's her back mostly; it hurts her awful bad," said the girl,
speaking to the lady, but never moving her eyes from Belle; it's
her back mostly, but sometimes it's the 'ole of her. She 's getting'
took up to the country for it, an' I wish it was me, so I do."
You would not wish to be so ill, would you ? said Mrs. Stacy,
to whom the girl made no reply; indeed, she acted as if she had not
heard the question, although that was impossible. Evidently she
was not overburdened with good manners or too much respect for
her elders and superiors. Nor did she seem to be troubled with too
much feeling, for when her father, having said good-by to the little
cripple and her mother, turned to leave the cars, and called to
her to follow him, she only said once more, I wish it was me as
was goin' to the country," and went out without another word of


All the way home Belle was much interested in watching the
young invalid and her mother, especially after Mrs. Stacy accosted
Dr. Delisle as he was passing, and asked him who she was. To
which he made answer, as you may guess, that she was going to
Glenwood for the benefit of the change and fresh air, and that she
was an especial protege of his little niece and sister.
The curiosity of Clara, too, was excited when she saw Mrs. Stacy
and the doctor talking together, and evidently about the sick child;
and as she could not hear what they said, she so far overcame her
resentment at Belle as to go over to her side of the car, and ask
what the gentleman had said about her. Nevertheless, her griev-
ances were still rankling, especially when she saw Belle lay her hand
upon the parcel containing the coveted shoes, as if she could not
trust them out of her own keeping in Clara's neighborhood; and
when the train reached Glenwood, and Clara returned to her
mother's side, she could not refrain from a parting shot in the
words: -
You're too awfully mean for anything about those shoes. I
saw them first, and I had the best right to them!"
Look at that poor little girl. Are n't you sorry for her ? said
Belle, so absorbed in this new object of interest, and so glad to find
that she was going to delightful Glenwood, that she hardly noticed
what Clara said.
But Clara made no response to the calls upon her sympathy.
Melancholy had marked her for its own because she could not have


just what she wanted, and she was not going to be pleasant or
pleased, or to feel any interest in anything else. No, indeed, not she!
Belle displayed her shoes to her grandfather with great glee,
kissing and thanking him many times again, and she did not forget
to tell him of the little cripple whom she had seen in the train, and
who had come to spend some weeks at Locust Farm, the home of
good Mrs. Roberts.
Nor was Belle allowed to forget her; for the very next morning
at school she heard of her again. It was at recess, when Fanny and
Rosie and two or three of the other children, to whom these two had
already made known their plans for the little invalid, called the rest
of their playmates together, and asked who would like to join them.
It was proposed to try and collect enough money, by their own exer-
tions, to buy a comfortable invalid carriage for Alice, one which
could be easily and lightly moved from place to place, so that her
mother or sister could roll it to the parks, where, after her return to
the city, she might enjoy the fresh air so needful for her. It would
be quite an expensive thing for such young people to purchase. An
ordinary child's carriage would be of no service to her, for it must
be one in which she could lie nearly at full length, and, though
wasted and puny, Alice was tall for her age. It must be made for
her, so Dr. Delisle had said when Rosie and Fanny had spoken to
him about it, and made strong, light, and comfortable.
The proposition met with great favor in the eyes of all the
children; each one professed herself ready and willing to help ";


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and Rosie and Fanny went home that day jubilant in the prospect
of their success.
There was no one of the children more enthusiastic than Belle
Stacy, and as soon as she reached home, she ran for her money-box
to see how much she could give. Her funds were low; that she
knew, for she had not long since spent the greater part of her
savings in buying a birthday present for her mamma. But she had
not remembered how very little she had left; and when she found
but fifteen cents, and recalled the sums promised by some of her
young schoolmates, she felt that she could not bear to offer only
But presently her clouded face cleared, as she said to herself
that she would beg her mother for some money, a whole lot," and
thought that mamma would be ready to give it to her, so long as
this was "a real, true charity, and very deserving."
But, to her dismay, again came the answer that Belle hated so
I cannot give you much for this poor child, my darling, for I
cannot afford it; at least, not now, perhaps next quarter I may be
able to help you."
When is next quarter, mamma ? asked Belle.
Not for two months yet," answered her mother.
Next quarter now seemed a long way off to Belle. The girls
would have their contributions all taken and the carriage purchased
long before that; at least, so she feared. It might even be that Alice
would have gone back to the city before she was able to give any-


thing for her benefit. Moreover, she did not want to seem mean "
in the eyes of her new schoolmates and friends.
So she determined to tell her grandfather of the poor crippled
child, and see if he would not help to purchase the much-needed
But here again she was disappointed. Grandpapa, though lavish
to his own, was very far from generous to any such call as this, and
he pooh-poohed the idea of giving any such aid as Belle sought, and,
to her indignation, bade her tell those people to take their cripple
to some one of the hospitals in the city, where all that was proper
would be provided for her."
Poor little Belle! She was not only disappointed, but she was
hurt and grieved that grandpapa should show such indifference, and
even contempt, towards the object which was so full of interest to
What should she tell the girls the next day when she went to
school, she, who had been so full of promises to the crippled
child ?
She was so disconsolate that her mother, feeling for her, gave
her, by way of comfort, a new book which she had purchased for
her, but which she had intended to keep until her birthday, now
more than ten days off.
Nothing pleased Belle more than a new story-book, and her
clouded face brightened, and she ran off to the hammock beneath
the trees, where she settled herself comfortably and prepared for
"a good read."




"-" : B HE first thing which caught Belle's eye as
"' she turned over the leaves of the new book
3 had the title of Kitty's Offering," and, taken
by the name, she chose this first, and read
this little tale.

"It was the prettiest, daintiest little bit of muslin, lace, and
embroidery ever put together, with Kitty's own name in one corner,
all covered about with tiny leaves, flowers, and tendrils, which seemed
as if they must have been worked by fairy fingers; and it came tied
down by pink ribbons in 'oh, such a lovely box, with four little
boys, without much clothes on them, 'cept wings, carrying Christmas
For was not this Christmas morning, and had not Kitty, when
asked by grandmamma, a month since, what she most wanted for a
Christmas present, answered, 'A. broideredd hankerstuff' ?
Yes, grandmamma was the good fairy whose skilful fingers had


worked the dainty trifle; and it would be hard to tell what pains
those loving fingers would not take to please the little maiden whose
winsome looks and words found their way to all hearts.
A proud and happy child was Kitty when she received that
wonderful Christmas gift; and when she was dressed for church, and
nurse had arranged the little handkerchief in her mite of a pocket,
so that the lace edge and embroidered name might show, she felt
"rather finer and more elegantly dressed than she had ever felt in all
her little life before,
This was not the first time that Kitty had been to church ; for
three or four Sundays now she had gone with her father and mother,
and so far she had been as quiet and well-behaved as any little five-
year-old girl could be. But, whether it was the new handkerchief or
all the other unusual excitements of the day, Kitty was far more
restless that Christmas morning than she had ever been before, and
by and by she scrambled to her feet upon the seat, turning so as to
face the congregation. Seeing this kept the little woman quiet for
a time her mamma let her stand there during the reading of the
Scriptures, and Kitty amused herself with gazing about her.
Suddenly she spied, several pews off, a gentleman who often
came to her papa's house, and whom she liked very much.
"4 Mr. James never saw my new pot-hankerstuff,' said Kitty to
herself, when she had smiled at him and nodded her head like any
Chinese mandarin. He might be offended of me if I did not show
it to him.'


And pulling the little handkerchief from her pocket, she shook
it out, and holding it up by two corners as high as her hands could
reach, and quite forgetting that she was in church, she called
aloud, -
Mr. James, you could n't afford dis.'
Her mamma pulled her down pretty quickly, as you may be
sure; but all the young people around began to titter, and even the
older and graver people could not help smiling.
When Kitty remembered that she had so forgotten herself, and
"spoken aloud in church, she was very much mortified, and she laid
her head against her mamma's arm, and would not look up again for
some time, while two or three big tears of shame stole down her
When she had dried her eyes and could raise her head once
more, the minister was talking.' Kitty always thought it very
strange that such a tall, grave gentleman as the clergyman should
talk so much and so loud in church when she was not to be allowed
to speak at all.
But now, as she sat gazing up at him and listening, she pres-
ently became interested in what he was saying. She could under-
stand a good deal of what he said, and she found that he was telling
of a home which some kind ladies had started for poor little sick and
crippled children who needed kind care and a comfortable place
when they were ill.
People were talking about hard times,' he said, and the ladies


who were in charge of the hospital did indeed feel that these were
'hard times,' for they did not receive one-half the money they needed
for the wants of the sick children. And then he asked that those
who were better off, and who had many good things to be thankful
for that Christmas Day, would give of their abundance for those who
were in want.
He spoke, too, a few words to the children of the congregation.
"' There is hardly a child here,' he said, who has not some trifle
which he or she may spare for these poor little ones, who have not
such happy, pleasant homes as you have, who have not had suchl
Christmas gifts as most of you have received. Would not each one
like to send something which may give pleasure or comfort, which
will gladden the heart of some little child like yourselves? And,
dear children, remember that any offering you may make this morn-
ing is in the name and for the sake of the Baby who was born to-day
in Bethlehem, the Saviour Christ who came to give us the best
of all Christmas gifts, salvation and everlasting life.'
"Even the very smallest children present could help, he said,
and if it was but done for the love of the dear Jesus who had blessed
and called them, it would show that they wished to please Him.
Kitty heard, and she was very sure that she did wish to please
the dear Jesus whose birthday all loved to keep on this Christmas
morning, and as she listened, she wished that she, too, could give
something for those poor little children who had had no presents.
But what should it be ?

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She had no toys or picture-books with her there in church, and
her pennies were all safe at home in her money-box. If she but had
some there, or one or two of the new toys or books, she would give
them gladly for the little cripples. There were the gentlemen be-
ginning to pass round the plates for the offerings, and Kitty had
not one single thing to give.
As she thought this, her eye fell upon the new pocket-handker-
chief which lay upon her lap.
Why, she could give this, and how pleased the poor little chil-
dren would be! She did not believe that they had ever seen one
so pretty, she was sure she never had. But could she give it up,
even for these children who had so few pretty things when she had
so many?
There was a moment's struggle as the gentleman came slowly
up the aisle with the plate, taking from each person present what
they could or would give; and the organ played, and a sweet voice
sang the words,' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these
ye have done it unto me.' Then Kitty's mamma saw her carefully
fold the little handkerchief, give it one kiss, -a good-by kiss it was,
as mamma knew a moment later when the gentleman passed the
plate into the pew, and Kitty laid the dainty trifle upon it, and
raising eyes swimming in tears, forgot herself once more, and said
aloud,' It will do for dose little cripples, and I do want to help dem.'
The gentleman hesitated one moment, and glanced at Kitty's
papa as the latter laid his contribution upon the plate; but papa, who
saw what it all meant, motioned him on.


There was a very suspicious glistening in the eyes of that old
gentleman as he went on, up one side of the aisle and down the
other, bearing the plate with that tiny morsel of lace and embroidery
lying upon it, the baby's offering, which worked its mission on
its way, telling its own story, and opening many a heart to give more
largely and freely than it would have done but for that silent monitor
and example.
"Carefully treasured among mamma's dearest possessions lies
the little handkerchief, all unknown to Kitty ; but the sum which
redeemed it has gone to buy many a comfort and pleasure for the
little cripples to whom Kitty sent her offering."

Belle dropped the book beside her, and lay thinking, as she
swung gently back and forth, just touching the floor with the tips
of her toes now and then so as to keep the hammock in motion.
There was something in this little story which seemed just to fit in
with her previous mood, and to give her food for thought.
What a dear little thing!" she said to herself, to go and put
her lovely Christmas present into the collection plate to help those
poor children the clergyman was telling about. I wish I could do
something like that. Now, if they took up a collection in church for
that poor little Alice, I could put in something of my own, only I
am a great deal older than that little Kitty, and know better, so
people would laugh at me. What could I give that would help
Alice ? Let's see, there 's my my doll, there 's my pink sash,


or my oh! sitting upright in the hammock as a thought flashed
across her, my pink boots! I 've never had them on yet, so may-be
the shoemaker would give me back the money if mamma would
send them to town, and ask him. I wonder if grandpa would mind.
I don't quite like to ask him."
For Belle had a feeling that grandpapa would laugh at her, or
pooh-pooh at her notion of sacrificing herself for the sake of helping
the other children to make Alice comfortable. He had already
shown himself to be too much wanting in sympathy.
As she sat with a thoughtful and very grave face, pondering the
matter, and whether or no it would be better for her to speak to
grandpapa, the old gentleman himself came out upon the piazza, and
observing Belle's absorbed look, he asked,
What is the matter, little woman ? You have seemed unusually
quiet and quite unlike yourself all day. Are not the pink boots sat-
isfactory after all ? "
Here was her opportunity: she would run the risk of grand-
papa's displeasure or ridicule, and tell him at once what was
troubling her.
Oh, yes, grandpapa, very satisfactory indeed; they are lovely;
but I am thinking a great importance," she answered solemnly, and
with the expectation of further inquiries.
And what is this wonderful 'importance ?'" asked grandpapa,
smiling; to which Belle replied by another question.
Grandpapa, do you suppose that the shoemaker would take



back my pink boots, if mamma sent them to him, and give me back
the money ?"
Tired of them already, or have you thought of something you
would like better? asked grandpapa.
Neither, grandpapa. I am not tired of them; I have not had
them on yet, you know, and I do not know of anything I would like
better, at least, not for myself; but I would rather have the money,
if you do not mind," answered Belle, throwing herself over the side
of the hammock, and standing up before her grandfather with a very
earnest little face.
I should not mind," said grandpapa; but the shoemaker will
not take back your boots now. You should have known your own
mind better, little woman. I suppose you have that crippled child
or some other quixotic notion in your head."
With which he put on his spectacles and began to read his
newspaper, while Belle hurried away, with a feeling of having been
snubbed, and quite resentful.
Poor little Alice is n't a quixotic notion at all," she said to her-
self; she 's a very good girl, I believe, and grandpapa is very unkind
to call her a horrid name like that."
She continued quite out of spirits all day; but at night, when
her mother took her up to bed, the trouble which was weighing upon
her mind made itself known.
Mamma," she said, with a puzzled look upon her face, I think
it's queer how God lets things be."


What do you mean ?" asked her mother. What things are
you thinking of? "
Why He don't always give us the chance of doing good," said
Belle. I wonder why He did n't let me see the little sick girl
Alice before we bought the boots, or let the girls tell me what they
were going to do for her, so that I could have given them the money
grandpapa gave me instead of buying them."
And you would rather give your money to help Alice than to
have spent it for the boots ? asked her mother.
I do not know if I would so very rather, mamma," said Belle;
but I would do it. I think every time I put on the pink boots to
go to the dancing class, I should think of poor little Alice, and how I
could not help her with the other school-girls. Indeed, I would give
the money for her if I had it now, in place of spending it for the
shoes, and be glad to do it, too."
And the earnest face which had been raised to her mother told
that she meant what she said.
I think," said her mother, that we perhaps know of some one
who would be glad to take the boots, and give you the money, if
you chose to give them up."
Who, mamma? asked Belle; then, seeing whom her mamma
meant, she added quickly, while her face changed, Oh, but I
could n't bear to give them to Clara Parish She is too hateful and
selfish, and she called me such horrid names! No, she shall not
have them."


Very well, dear," said her mother; no one will compel you to
give them up, no one will even ask you to do so: it was your own
thought, and you have the right to keep them. They are your own."
I wish papa was at home," said Belle rather repiningly ; if he
was we would have just as much money as we used to have, and
could afford things, and then he would give me something to help
the little cripple."
Mrs. Stacy sighed, and smiled rather sadly as she thought of the
husband and father toiling in a far distant land. If we had as
much money and could afford all we used to have, darling," she said,
" then papa need not have gone away."
If it was any of the other girls," said Belle, I 'd change the
boots for the money ; but I don't want that disagreeable Clara to
have my pretty pink boots with those lovely buttons. No, I don't! "
But when Belle awoke on the following morning she was of a
different mind, and soon made her purpose known to her mother.
Mamma," she said, I think I will let Clara Parish have the
pink boots, and then I shall have a whole lot of money to give
towards helping Alice. Do you think grandpapa would mind if I
made an exchano-e with Clara? "
I do not know, dear. You must ask him, and I rather think he
will tell you to do as you please," answered her mother. But,
Belle, that will be a large sum for such a little girl as you to give,
much more than any one of the other children will give."
Belle thought a moment.


No matter, mamma," she said. I feel as if I gave up the
boots for Alice, I would rather she should have all the money."
Very well, darling, it shall be as you please," said Mrs. Stacy.
At the breakfast-table, Belle stated the case to her grandfather,
telling him how Clara Parish had set her heart upon that very pair
of boots which she had been the first to secure, how disappointed
the spoiled child had been, let me do Belle the justice to say that
she omitted to report how disgracefully Clara had behaved, and
how she herself proposed, if he were willing, to resign the boots to
Clara, if she would pay what they had cost, in order that she might
have the money to give to Alice.
Would you mind if I did it, grandpapa? she asked in con-
clusion, and with a wistful look at the old gentleman.
But the pleading eyes and earnest face had no effect upon
grandpapa, who maintained that this was but nonsense and hum-
bug." However, he did not refuse his consent, although it was
given ungraciously.
Do as you please, child," he said as he rose from the table. If
you like to do it, and your mother encourages you in such a quixotic
notion, please yourself; but mind, my dear, if you choose to sacrifice
the boots, don't expect me to give you another pair in their place."
Belle was quite indignant that her grandfather should think she
believed he would make it up to her, and indeed grandpapa might
have known better than to suggest such a thing. But the truth was
that he was a little unreasonable and unjust, because his own con-


science smote him on seeing the contrast between the true gener-
osity of his little granddaughter and the manner in which he had
shut his own heart to the calls upon it.
However, he did not quite believe that Belle would carry out the
proposed sacrifice; and although he said no more on the subject, he
kept himself informed of Belle's whereabouts all that day, so that
he might know if she had been to see Clara Parish, and when he
found that she did not go, although she had ample opportunity to
do so, he said to himself that she had found it too -rcat a trial to
resign the boots.
The truth was, however, that Mrs. Stacy had bade Belle to wait
until the next day, in order that she might think it well over before
she offered the boots to Clara; but the morning brought no chance
in Belle's generous resolve, as grandpapa soon had reason to know.
This was dancing day," and when, in the afternoon, Belle came
down dressed and ready for her grandfather to drive her over to the
school where the class met, he observed that the dainty little feet
were encased in the black morocco boots which had been such a
trial to her in the presence of all the pink, blue, white, or bronze
boots worn by her classmates.
But he asked no questions, and Belle, who was still rather
affronted at him for his insinuation that she expected him to make
good her loss, maintained a dignified silence on the subject, and left
him to draw his own conclusions from the wearing of the black


If Belle had been loth to surrender the pink boots to Clara Parish
before this meeting of the dancing class, she was not less so when
it was over, for she had heard Clara say, indeed, it seemed that
Clara intended she should hear it, -
Is n't it queer in Belle Stacy's mother to let her come to dancing
school in plain black boots? She has a pair of pink ones, too, I
know, 'cause she got them away from me just when I went to buy
them; but I expect, after all, she can't afford to wear them, or her
mother is so stingy she makes her save them up. Her grandfather
is rich, too, so it's a shame. Any way, I would n't come to dancing
school at all, if I had to come in old black boots."
It does not make one bit of difference what kind of boots you
wear," said Lily Ward, who always took up arms in defence of those
who were ill spoken of, if she believed they did not deserve it, and
who had noticed Belle's hurt and vexed looks as she moved beyond
the reach of Clara's voice; it does not make one bit of difference,
and Belle is lovely and real nice. If she had boots with holes in
them, we 'd all like her just the same. We don't mind about boots,
we only care about the way people act and speak; and some people
act and speak a great deal nicer than other people, and black boots
and niceness are a great deal nicer than pink and blue boots and
Zt un-n zceness.
There could be no doubt as to the application of Lily's words,
nor did she intend that there should be, for she was at all times
plain of speech. Nevertheless, she was a privileged person and a


great pet, for she was generous and loving and had most winning
ways, and her admonitions and reproofs carried much weight with
them among her schoolfellows and playmates. So the other chil-
dren who stood about laughed, and Clara, who, moreover, was not
quick at reply, saw that their sympathies were with Belle and her
little defender.
Ill-bred or unkind speeches and sneers were never received with
favor in Miss Collins' school, the law of love and kindness generally
held supreme rule there; but Clara, being comparatively a new-
comer, had not yet laid this lesson sufficiently to heart. That she
had not learned it, or repented of her ill-feeling towards Belle, was
shown by her conduct later in the afternoon.
As she chanced to be standing alone on one side of the room,
Belle came to her, and said, with a little restraint which she could
not help in her manner and tone, Clara, if you want those pink
boots you may have them, after all, if you choose to take them."
Do you mean you '11 give them to me or sell them to me ? "
questioned Clara, quite surprised.
"I mean," answered Belle, flushing at the other's bluntness,
" that you may buy them if you like, 'cause I want the money they
cost for something else."
All right," said Clara. I '11 ask mamma for the money, and
she '11 give it to me, and I '11 buy your boots."
And so the bargain was concluded, with triumph and self-glori-
fication on the part of Clara, and on Belle's, mingled with regret at


the loss of her pretty boots, some hurt feeling and a sense of annoy-
ance that she had been obliged to give them up to Clara Parish.
If it had been any other one of her schoolmates, she thought she
should not have minded it so much. This was only natural, perhaps,
under the circumstances, and it made Belle's self-sacrifice only the
more generous so far as it concerned Alice.
There said Clara soon after to a group of her classmates, -
"there! I knew Belle Stacy could n't afford to have pink kid boots.
She is going to sell hers to me, any way, I ought to have them, for
I saw them first, and had the best right to them, and I 'm going to
give her the money they cost. She says she wants it for something
else, and she can't afford to have both. I knew she could n't afford
to have much."
It's not her fault if she can't," said Lily Ward, and she can
afford to behave very lady-ly, any way; and that's better than
affording pink boots." Then, her indignation rising at Clara's per-
sistent hostility to Belle, she added, Clara, you are the most finding-
fault girl we ever had in our school."
But you ought not to tell her so," said Daisy Protidfoot, who
was always anxious to preserve the peace.
Yes, I ought," answered free-spoken Lily. Some one ought to
be severe with her, and if no one else is, I have to be."
Great was the triumph of Belle's little champion when, on the
following morning, Rosie and Fanny came into the school-room in
a state of great excitement, the former exclaiming to such of the


scholars as were already assembled, Belle Stacy being not of the
number, -" O girls, what do you think? Belle Stacy has sent us
seven dollars for Alice Cadle! Just think of that! Is n't it splen-
did? It's more, a great deal more, than any one else has given, and
such a lot of help! Was n't it lovely of her? Seven dollars
The same thought flashed across the minds of several of the
members of the dancing class, who had been present the day before
during the discussion about Belle's pink kid boots.
Clara Parish," said Lola Swan, turning to her, what did you
pay Belle for those dancing boots? "
Seven dollars," answered Clara reluctantly, for she felt convicted
of having misjudged Belle, and knew that her classmates were think-
ing of this.
And she has given it to us for Alice !" exclaimed Fanny.
"And you called her mean, and said she could n't afford things,"
said Lily Ward reproachfully. Oh that dear Belle! How lovely
and unselfish of her to give up her dancing boots for that! I 'm
going to love her all my life, forever an' ever, and to be offended
with any one who don't love her and praise her, too."
And she looked with meaning at Clara, who did feel ashamed of
the way she had spoken of Belle, and had the grace to acknowledge
it, which, in some measure, restored her to favor with the other
You are not to suppose that Belle was to be rewarded for her
self-sacrifice by the gift of a new pair of boots from her grandfather,


for this was not so; but her'heart, and those of the other children
who were caring for the little cripple, were gladdened by the anony-
mous gift of twenty-five dollars sent for her use. Although Belle
never knew it, this was sent by her grandfather, whose conscience
had been touched and whose hand had been opened by the example
of the little child who had led him.




-4 OR the first few days after Alice was left in Mrs.
SRoberts' care, she seemed to improve wonderfully,
and her interest and pleasure in all her new surround-
ings and the fresh country scenes about her was
unbounded. True, she had a hard fit of crying and
^ homesickness on the first evening of her arrival, and
after her mother had left her to return to the city; for Mrs. Cadle
felt obliged to go back as soon as she had seen her crippled child
comfortably established in her new quarters, as she could not leave
her work; but that soon wore off, and she seemed to be more than
happy and contented for some successive days. Moreover, she was
delighted to think that she was earning something to help her
father and mother in their struggle for daily bread and shelter.
Miss Helen Shaw had paid her liberally for each sitting. Every
day the young lady came for her, and took her to her own home in
her easy little pony-wagon, where she was put into the proper atti-
tude, and the young lady painted for an hour or so; then Alice
took her nice lunch and rest, after which she sat again for a while.


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Miss Helen was careful not to tire her, although she was in great
haste to finish the picture lest her father should return, and discover
what was going on before the proper time.
But after a few days, those about her perceived that she was dull,
and, at last, seemed really unhappy. By means of much questioning
and coaxing, Jessie at length drew from her the confession that she
wanted to see some of her "own people," and she repeated the same
to her father and mother and brother Joe.
That's the good of bein' taken out the 'sylum," said Joe. You
don't have any folks to fret after."
Strange to say, Alice and Joe were great friends. This feeble,
fragile little invalid regarded with eyes of profound admiration and
wonder the big, strong boy who performed in her presence such
gymnastic and acrobatic feats for her satisfaction and his own ex-
ceeding glorification. She listened with the most undoubting faith
to the marvellous tales he told her, when they were alone together,
of his hair-breadth escapes and startling adventures, never noticing
that these tales were of a milder and less sensational character when
Jessie or any other member of the family happened to be present.
To her these were gospel truths, and she believed him to be the
hero he pictured himself, and considered him as rather unappre-
ciated by his family. Moreover, she sympathized heart and soul
with his soaring ambitions, which aimed at no less a height than to
be "head-man query, Prime Minister? to the Emp'ror of
Rooshia; for I would n't give a fig to be President of these States