Chapter II

NELLY watched at the gate for a long time, hoping to see again the kind young lady who had given her the flowers; but in this she was disappointed. It was, in fact, not Miss Powell's usual road to church. She had come that way to visit a sick person, and she went home by the other and shorter way. Nelly saw the young ladies who had excited her envy in the morning. They came upon her side of the street this time, and she had a nearer view of them.

"How nice they look!" she thought. "And they can go to school and learn to read and write, and, I dare say, to paint pictures, and play music on the piano; while I can't learn any thing or be anybody. It is too bad! I do think granny might let me go to school. And yet, if I did, who would there be to take care of the cow? and if she wasn't taken care of, what should we have to live on? I don't see any way out of it. Oh, dear! I wonder what I was ever made for?"

What would Nelly have said if she had known that some of those very school-girls she envied looked upon themselves as greatly abused by being made to go to school, and that they exercised far more ingenuity and pains in shirking their lessons—in trying not to learn—than would have been needed to acquire them? Nelly Ryan, leaning over her grandmother's gate, with no one to teach her even to read, thought she would be perfectly happy if she could only go to boarding-school, and walk to church on Sunday morning with a nice dress and clean collar. Nelly Lambert, who had been taught and cared for all her life,—whose father spent hundreds of dollars every year upon her education,—had been fretting that very morning at being obliged to dress and go to church, and thought if she had no lessons to learn, and nothing to do but to amuse herself all day long, SHE would be perfectly happy. Both were, no doubt, mistaken, since perfect happiness is hardly to be found in this world; but I think Nelly Lambert's mistake was the greater of the two.

Presently Kitty Brown came along home from Sunday-school, with her Bible and library-book in her hand. Kitty "lived out" with one of the families whom Nelly supplied with milk; but her mother was a neighbour of Mrs. Ryan's, and her mistress was in the habit of allowing her to go home after Sunday-school on Sundays and stay till near teatime.

Kitty had always had a liking for Nelly, and the girls would perhaps have become intimate, if Mrs. Brown had allowed it; but though she was always kind to Mrs. Ryan and her grand-daughter, she did not think Nelly a very suitable companion for Kitty. The girls always spoke when they met, however, and generally had a few minutes of gossip when Nelly carried round the milk. Kitty knew all about Lord Glengall and the former grandeur of the Butlers, and, as she had a lively imagination, and was very fond of stories, she had constructed more than one pretty romance relating to Nelly's future prospects. She used to like very much to talk over these romances with Nelly herself; but Nelly had of late become rather shy of them.

"Why, Nelly, how nice you look!" said Kitty, stopping to speak to her friend; "but what made you cut off all your hair?"

"It tangled so I could not comb it out," replied Nelly. "I wish it was straight like yours, and then I could keep it decent."

"Why, Nelly Ryan! I would give any thing in the world to have my hair curl as yours does; but it looks real pretty as it is, and it will have plenty of time to grow again before you are a young lady, you know."

"I guess it will," said Nelly. "It will have time to grow and grow white before that time comes."

"Oh, you don't know! For all you can tell, the news of your fortune may come to-morrow."

"Don't, Kitty!" said Nelly, impatiently. "I am sick of all that stuff, and I don't believe in it, either. I want to be decent now, and to have something, and not be always thinking about what will never happen. I don't feel as if I ever wanted to hear of those things again. I think about them and hear granny's stories till they all seem real to me, and then I just wake up, and every thing is as poor and mean as ever, and looks ten times worse than it did before. I am sick of it all, and I am sick of this world," said Nelly, passionately. "I should like to die and go somewhere else."

Kitty stood aghast at this outbreak from Nelly. She had never seen her in such a mood before, and she did not understand it. She did not reflect that the day-dreams which served her for amusement now and then were all her friend had to live upon. One may like some oranges once in a while, when one has had enough of solid food; but a man who had nothing else to eat would soon starve to death upon it.

"I don't think you ought to say that, Nelly," Kitty answered, at last. "If you should die and go to heaven, it would be very nice; but if you didn't, you know—"

"I don't see how I am ever to get to heaven, either," said Nelly. "I can't read the Bible or any thing, and there is no one to teach me. Well, I know one thing. I wish there had never been any such person as I am."

Kitty was at a stand. She did not know how to meet Nelly's mood at all. She saw that the poor girl was very unhappy, and she would have given a great deal to comfort her if she had only known how. She had a sort of indistinct idea that when people were in trouble the Bible ought some way to do them good, and she tried to think of a text; but she could remember none which seemed suitable to Nelly's present case. She had learned a great many Bible verses in her life, but it had never before occurred to her to use any of them. The only thing she could think of to console Nelly she did. She put her arm round her neck and kissed her. The honest expression of sympathy always does good. Nelly's heart felt a little lightened of its load as she returned Kitty's embrace.

"You are real good, anyway," said she. "Oh, Kitty," she added, suddenly, "will you do something for me? A lady gave me a card this morning with a picture and verses on it. Will you read it for me?"

"Of course I will," said Kitty, heartily. "Where is it?"

Nelly ran into the house and brought out her card.

"Come and sit on our steps," said Kitty. "It is shady there, and mother will know where I am."

"Well," said Nelly; and she called to her grandmother, "Granny, I am going with Kitty a little while."

"All right, dear; but don't be long, for I'll soon have the dinner ready."

Mrs. Brown met her daughter at the door with a hearty kiss. The house was not very much larger than Mrs. Ryan's; but what a contrast it presented! Every thing was in perfect order, and as clean as hands could make it. There were flowers all about,—in the little garden, on the table under the glass, on the high old-fashioned bureau, on the window-sill. Every thing was sweet and cool and fresh, from the white curtains to the clean, white door-step; and yet Mrs. Brown was not so much richer than Mrs. Ryan.

"I am going to sit down here and read to Nelly a few minutes, please, mother," said Kitty. "A lady has given her a pretty card with a hymn on it."

Mrs. Brown made no objection, and the two girls sat down side by side in the shade. The hymn was that familiar one beginning—

"Around the throne of God in heaven."

Nelly listened attentively as Kitty read it through.

"There is a real pretty tune to that," said Kitty. "Shall I sing it for you?"

"Please," said Nelly.

Kitty had a sweet little voice, and sung very nicely. When she had finished, Nelly still sat looking at the sky.

"It would be good if all that was real and true," said she, at last.

"Why, Nelly!" exclaimed Kitty, scandalized. "It is real and true. It is all in the Bible."

"I know folks say so," replied Nelly; "but it don't seem real. It seems to me just like my granny's stories. Don't it to you?"

"I never think much about it," said Kitty, honestly. "Somehow I have such good times now. But Nelly, it is surely so. I will read about it in the Bible, if you want me to. Shall I?"

Nelly assented. Kitty knew very well where in the Bible to find what she wanted. She liked to read in the book of Revelation, just as she loved Mrs. Ryan's stories, because it fed her imagination. She turned over the leaves and read the last two or three chapters. Nelly listened eagerly; and as she listened she formed images in her mind, clear and distinct, of the river of the water of life, clear as crystal—of the tree of life growing on its banks—of the golden streets, and all the rest. She drew a long breath when Kitty had finished.

"A'n't that perfectly lovely? But I don't suppose I can ever get there, though," she added, in her old, despairing tone. "They wouldn't have me there."

"Oh, yes," returned Kitty, confidently. "You can go just as well as any one else. Mother," she called, "can't Nelly go to heaven?"

"Of course she can, if she is a good girl," answered Mrs. Brown, from within. "Why not?"

"There!" said Kitty, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you so? There was a beggar once, all covered with sores, and he had nothing to eat but crumbs from a rich man's table; and when he died, the angels came and carried him to heaven."

"I suppose he was very good."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Kitty, rather doubtfully. "He must have been, of course."

"There is granny calling," said Nelly. "Thank you very much, Kitty."

"After all, I don't see how it is going to do me much good; only very good people go there," said poor Nelly, as she walked homeward. "I am sure I am not very good; and I don't see how I ever can be, living as I do. But it seems kind of pleasant to think there is such a place, after all."

The next day, as Nelly was standing by, the gate, watching her cow, which was pasturing on the common opposite, Mrs. Vandake came to her door and called her.

"Nelly, can you do an errand for me?"

"I guess so," replied Nelly, "if granny will mind the cow."

"I want you to go down town directly and put this letter in the post-office," continued Mrs. Vandake. "I am afraid to wait till Mr. Vandake comes home, lest I should be late for the mail; and I should not like to miss the chance of sending it. You can run right down to the general office, can't you? Ask your granny."

Mrs. Ryan made no objection, and Nelly was soon equipped in her granny's best shawl and her own ragged straw hat. Mrs. Vandake handed her the letter, and promised her a cake when she came back.

"What a pretty child!" said a lady who was visiting Mrs. Vandake. "But can you trust her? Won't she hide the letter, or throw it away to save herself trouble?"

"Oh, no," replied Mrs. Vandake. "She has often done errands for me, and always faithfully. With all their dirt and shiftlessness, both she and the old woman are strictly honest."

Nelly overheard this conversation as she stopped behind a lilac-bush to pull up her stocking; and it did her good. "There is one thing decent about us, anyway," said she.

She did her errand faithfully and quickly; but the letter once in the office, she thought there could be no harm in indulging in a little of her favourite amusement; and she began to loiter along the street, looking in at the shop-windows. The book and print store was her favourite stopping-place, but there was a great crowd of people around the door and window, looking at some new pictures; so she could not get near, and she went on to her second favourite place. This was a fancy-store,—a corner shop with a very large window, in which were elegantly arranged all sorts of pretty things,—embroidery, and patterns, and head-dresses, and wonderful buttons, and other things of which Nelly could not even guess the use. To-day the bottom of the window was one mass of beads,—marvellous beads, of all sorts, shapes and sizes,—green and blue, red and yellow, black and white: some as large as birds' eggs, others no bigger than mustard-seeds; some like silver and gold, some like dew-drops, some like sugar-candy. As the sun shone on the beads, they really formed a splendid mass of colour, which an older and more cultivated eye than Nelly's might have rested on with pleasure. The gauze curtain which hung at the back of the window was completely covered with worsted patterns,—flowers, birds, animals, and curious arabesques like nothing in particular.

Nelly stood a long time gazing at all these wonders, and then she passed through an open space into the shop behind. Here were more wonders and beauties still; but for once Nelly had no eye for them; for there, behind the counter, as if she were waiting to attend on the customers, stood the very young lady who had given Nelly the flowers! Here was a discovery! Nelly forgot all about the beads and patterns, all about the piece of cake waiting for her in Mrs. Vandake's pantry, and stood as if rooted to the spot, peeping through the vacant place in the window. Miss Powell was doing some work which looked very curious to Nelly. She had a little black thing in her hand, wound with white thread, which she poked through and through her fingers with marvellous quickness. A very pretty piece of something like lace hung down from her left hand. It did not seem to be hard work, for the lady looked about her, and sometimes talked with another young lady who sat on a stool winding worsted.

Nelly, as I said, stood as if she grew there, watching Miss Powell as she worked, unmindful of the people who now and then pushed against her. At last she was startled by a stiff piece of paper which came flying down from an upper window in the same building directly into her face. She caught it in her hand and looked at it. It was a worsted pattern like those in the window,—a pretty bunch of red and white roses. For one moment, Nelly felt tempted to keep it. She loved pretty things, and she had very few of them; but Nelly was, with all her faults, an honest child, and had never stolen the worth of a six-pence. In another minute she had reflected with a great rush of joy that here was a good excuse for going into the shop and speaking to the lady. She opened the door and entered shyly. Miss Powell was just then waiting on a customer, and Nelly stood in silence by the counter, looking at the pretty things in the show-case. Presently the young lady who was winding worsted turned and spoke to Nelly:—

"Do you want any thing, little girl?"

"I want to speak to that lady," said Nelly, pointing to Miss Powell, who had finished attending upon her customer and had gone to the back part of the store.

"Miss Powell," called the other young lady, "here is a child waiting to speak to you."

"Did you want me, my little girl?" asked Miss Powell, kindly. She did not for the moment remember Nelly, but she always spoke pleasantly to every one. She did not have, as I have sometimes seen, one sort of manner for rich customers and another for poor ones.

"Please, I found this," said Nelly, producing the pattern, which she had all the time carefully held under her shawl. "I thought it might belong in here, because it is like those in the window."

"That was very good in you," said Miss Powell. "I see you are an honest girl. I presume the pattern does belong here; though I do not understand how it came in the street."

"I think it blew out of the window," said Nelly, her heart beginning to sink as she saw that Miss Powell did not recognize her.

Just then another lady came part-way down the staircase at the back of the shop.

"Have you seen any thing of my pattern, Miss Powell?" she asked. "I left it with my work on the window, and when I came back it was gone. I am afraid it has fallen into the street; and, if so, my work is ruined."

"Is this it?" asked Miss Powell, holding up the pattern Nelly had found.

"The very thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Kirkland, joyfully. "Where did it come from?"

"This little girl found it and brought it in."

"You are a very good, honest child," said Mrs. Kirkland to Nelly; "and I am very much obliged to you. See here," she continued, taking a pretty little doll from a shelf near by, "would you like this for your own?"

Nelly hung down her head.

"Perhaps you see some other thing you would rather have?" said Mrs. Kirkland, good-naturedly. "Don't be afraid."

"Please," said Nelly, taking courage at the kindness of the lady's look and tone, and pointing to Miss Powell's work, while her heart beat fast and her colour rose, "please, I should like one of those things, if I could learn how to do that work."

"Well, I declare, what an odd little thing you are!" said Mrs. Kirkland. "What is your name?"

"Nelly Ryan," answered Nelly; and, growing still bolder, she added, speaking to Miss Powell, "I saw you yesterday by granny's gate; and you gave me some flowers and a card."

"So I did!" said Miss Powell. "I thought I had seen those gray eyes before; but you have cut your hair off, haven't you?"

"It got so tangled, and I couldn't comb it out straight," said Nelly.

"Well, but Nelly, do you really think you could learn to make tatting?" asked Miss Powell.

"I could try," answered Nelly. "It looks kind of easy!"

"It is easy after you once know how," said Miss Powell; "but it is not easy to learn."

"Do try to teach her," said Mrs. Kirkland. "Some people take it up very quickly."

Nelly looked on with great interest as Miss Powell took a shuttle, wound some thread on it, and began the work. Now, tatting, though very easy to do, is one of the hardest things in the world to teach and to learn. Nelly tried faithfully and watched closely; but after more than an hour she seemed no nearer than at first, and she began to be utterly discouraged.

"I can't do it!" said she, throwing the shuttle at last into Miss Powell's lap, while the tears rose to her eyes. "I can't see into it anyhow. I might have known I couldn't," she added. "What's the use of my ever trying to do any thing or to be anybody?"

"Oh, you must not be discouraged," said Miss Powell, touched by the tone of utter despondent hopelessness in which these last words were spoken. "You have not been nearly as long at it as I was when I first tried to learn. I was older than you are, too,—a great girl of fifteen,—but I tried the whole afternoon, and finally gave up in despair, and had a hearty cry after it."

"But you did learn?" said Nelly, much interested.

"Yes; and I will tell you how. After I went to bed, I began to reflect upon the matter, and made up my mind that I could do what other people could, and that I would not be beaten by a piece of thread. So I lighted my candle, found my shuttle, and worked at it till three o'clock in the morning. I made a quarter of a yard before I stopped. So you see I had a much harder time than you have had yet. Come; take it up and try once more."

"I can't," said Nelly; "granny will want me."

"Well, then, take the shuttle home with you and try there," said Mrs. Kirkland. "If you learn to do it right, I will give you a ball of thread to make some for yourself. You can come in the next time you come down town, and show Miss Powell or me what you have done."

"What an odd child!" she added, after Nelly had gone. "I should think there was the making of a woman in her. Do you know any thing about her, Miss Powell?"

"Only that she lives in a little tumble-down cottage on the upper part of College Street, opposite the common. I found her crying yesterday, and comforted her as well as I could. I wonder if she will succeed with her tatting?"

"I rather think she will," said Mrs. Kirkland.