Chapter VII

"WELL, and what did he say to ye?" asked Mrs. Ryan, as Nelly re-entered the house, where she still sat on her low stool, just as Nelly had left her; and then, before there was time to answer, "Sure I knew there was no use in going to him,—only just throwing away your money, and leaving me without so much as a penny to buy tobacco. But you're getting so set-up with your Sunday-school and your fine ways, that you think you know more than your own granny, that brought you up, and has seen real ladies and gentlemen in Ireland, such as would never demane themselves with work, as they do here."

"I have brought you some tobacco, granny," said Nelly, as soon as she could stem the tide of words. "Mr. Grayson sent it to you himself; and he was very kind, granny,—not cross at all."

"Sure he'd not be cross to you, and you coming to put money in his pocket," returned granny, slightly mollified by the sight and smell of her favourite refreshment, "and you looking and speaking as pretty as a born lady, which you are! What did he tell you, dear?"

"He told me to come again to-morrow afternoon, and he would see what he could do," replied Nelly. "He would hardly believe I had earned so much by my work; and I dare say he means to go and ask Mrs. Kirkland herself about it. But come, granny; do light your pipe and be comfortable, and I will tell you all about it while I am getting supper ready. I am afraid we shall be late with the milk."

It was not from any love of the smoke that Nelly urged granny to light her pipe; but she knew from long experience that granny's good humour was very much a matter of physical sensation. When she was comfortable, she was usually amiable; when she was uncomfortable, she was almost always cross. Mr. Grayson's tobacco was of very superior quality, and granny's spirits rose with the smoke she puffed out, till she was ready to believe that Mr. Grayson not only meant to allow them to remain in the house, but intended to make them a present of it out and out.

Nelly was not so sanguine as that. She did not expect Mr. Grayson to give them the house, nor did she see any reason why he should do so. The most she hoped was that he would allow them to remain where they were and pay for the place by degrees; and she determined in her own mind that every shilling she could spare from her earnings should go for that purpose. She finished up her work, and then set out to carry round her milk, not forgetting to take her book with her that she might read to Kitty Brown.

Kitty was secretly growing rather tired of these lessons. As long as she was decidedly Nelly's superior in learning, she was very willing to teach her, and felt a pleasant sense of patronage in so doing. But now Nelly read and wrote as well as Kitty, if not better; she had learned several sorts of work which Kitty did not know, and was always asking questions which Kitty could not answer, especially about the Bible. Kitty felt it rather a reproach to herself that Nelly, who had only been to Sunday-school six months in all her life, and hardly ever heard of a Bible before that time, should care so much more about it than she did; and it annoyed her whenever Nelly talked about heaven, as she was very fond of doing.

All these feelings were, perhaps, no more than natural. Kitty might not be able to help having them, in the first place; but she could have helped entertaining and dwelling upon them till she nourished up a spirit of envy and jealousy towards her friend which made her feel like saying and doing almost any thing disagreeable and spiteful. Hence, when Nelly produced her Testament and proposed to read over the next Sunday's lesson, Kitty answered, pettishly enough, that she hadn't time.

"It won't be but a minute, you know," pleaded Nelly, whose heart was full of things that she wished to talk over with her friend; "and it is such an interesting lesson! And oh, Kitty, Miss Powell was talking to me this morning, down at the store, about heaven; and she says,—"

"You are always talking about what Miss Powell says, as if she was the only person in the world," interrupted Kitty. "I guess my Sunday-school teacher knows as much as she does, any day."

"I am sure I never said she didn't," said Nelly, a good deal hurt by Kitty's tone and manner; "only, you know, we have always been over the lessons together; and I thought you would like to hear what she told me. I am sure I did. I don't hardly know what I should have done to-day, only for that. It seemed—" added Nelly, reverently, "it seemed just as though God sent it to me on purpose."

"Yes; that's very likely," said Kitty, half to herself, as she wrung out her cloth with a good deal more energy than was necessary. "Do you suppose God thinks so much more of you than he does of any one else, as all that comes to?"

"Of course not," replied Nelly. "That isn't it. But Kitty, the Bible says, not a sparrow falls to the ground without him, and the very hairs of our heads are all numbered. That was the very first Bible lesson I learned. And, besides, Miss Powell says that God does love me—yes, even me—just as much as if there were no one else in the world; and so why shouldn't he send me things just when I want them? It seems only natural to me. If I love people, I always want to help them. Don't you?"

"You! Oh, you are a great saint, no doubt!" said Kitty, scornfully, and feeling more and more provoked, she could not tell why. "For my part, I don't set myself up to be better than other folks. I don't pretend to be a saint. If I can get along and do as well as my neighbours, I shall be satisfied, for my part. I never knew any good come of people's setting themselves up as patterns. Look at Mr. Jenkins, how he treats Abbey."

"Oh, Kitty!" said Nelly. "Didn't I hear you say, the other day, that Abbey was enough to provoke a saint, and that you would like to see your mother get hold of her?"

"Well, well," said Kitty, assuming the superior all at once, "I haven't any time to stay here gossiping with you, Nelly. You had better take your pails and go along. It Is growing late, and Mrs. Powers won't like it. She doesn't like to have people hanging about the kitchen."

Nelly looked at Kitty for a moment without a word, and then, taking up her pails, walked out of the kitchen, and shut the door behind her with more than usual softness, leaving Kitty master of the field, but by no means satisfied with her victory. Something told her that she had acted a mean and cowardly part towards Nelly,—that she had broken her word, and disappointed her friend; and her pride also told her that she had been far from appearing to advantage, and that Nelly would have a good excuse for despising her. All these feelings did not tend to make her more good-natured or more attentive to her work; and the consequence was that she first broke a valuable china pitcher, and then was so impertinent about it that Mrs. Powers gave her a severe lecture and threatened to send her home to her mother. Kitty went to bed and cried herself to sleep; nor did she find any comfort in the thought that God saw and noticed all she did. Kitty was afraid of God when she thought of him at all. She did not love him.

Meantime, Nelly walked homewards with her heart full of grief and perplexity. It seemed to her as though every thing disagreeable in her life had all come together on this one day, which had begun so happily. She loved Kitty with all her heart, and she racked her brains in trying to think how she could have offended her. Perseverance was rather natural to Nelly, and the habit of mind had become so strengthened that she could not possibly understand that Kitty should have grown tired of her undertaking. Then there were her lessons. She had always referred all the hard words to Kitty, and now Miss Powell was so busy all the time, she did not like to trouble her. Moreover, Kitty had promised to help her with her sums, and had lent her a slate and pencil. She did not feel as though she could keep on using them while Kitty was so angry with her. And who would help her? or how was she to learn without a teacher?

As Nelly walked along the quiet moonlit street, thinking of these things, she almost ran against a lady who was just going in at her own gate.

"Why, who is this?" asked the lady.

"Nelly Ryan, ma'am," answered Nelly, hastily brushing away the tears which had run over her eyelids. "I didn't mean to run against you; but I was just thinking of something, and I did not see you."

"And I was just thinking of you, Nelly," replied the lady. "Have you all the customers you want for your milk?"

"No, ma'am; we could spare another quart since Mrs. Jay moved away."

"Mrs. Ward tells me that your milk is clean and rich, and that you always give good measure," continued Mrs. Caswell. "I should be glad to have you bring me a quart every evening, that I may have cream for coffee. The milk I take now has no cream, and it seems to be half water."

"We never put water in the milk," answered Nelly. "It is richer sometimes than others, according to the cow's feed; but we never put water in it. I can give you some to-night, if you like," she added, holding up her unemptied pail. "Mrs. Ward only took a pint, and I have a pint left."

"So much the better. Come in, and I will take it at once."

Mrs. Caswell turned out the milk, and Nelly stood meanwhile admiring the neat kitchen,—pleasanter than many parlours,—the flowers on the window-seats, the books on the shelf, and thinking to herself, "How much I should like to have our house looking just like this! I wonder if I ever could!"

As Mrs. Caswell returned the pail, she noticed the book under Nelly's arm.

"What have you there?" she asked, pleasantly.

Nelly produced her large-print Testament and Psalms which Miss Powell had given her, and which was clean and neatly covered, though bearing marks of much use.

"I was going to ask Kitty Brown to hear me read my Sunday-school lesson; but—she was busy," said Nelly, possibly stretching a point so as not to find fault with Kitty. "I don't know all the words, and sometimes she helps me."

"Oh, ho!" said Mrs. Caswell. "Well, Nelly, it is rather late to-night for you to be in the street, so I will not ask you to stay now; but if you will bring your book to-morrow evening, I will help you learn your lesson."

"Thank you, ma'am. I shall be real glad," said Nelly, gratefully.

Here was another friend raised up in time of need; and Nelly, as she hastened home, was more than ever convinced that God did love and take care of her. She was grieved about Kitty's conduct; but in her new-found sense of forgiveness, she was not disposed to be hard upon her former friend.

"Everybody feels out of sorts, sometimes," she reasoned. "I dare say something has happened to vex her. But anyhow, I am glad Mrs. Caswell is going to help me; only I hope she won't be like Mrs. Vandake,—always promising."

The next morning, Nelly was up with the sun, sweeping off the sidewalk and steps, picking up the chips and sticks about the place, and piling the wood up neatly. She then washed off the windows and doors, rubbed up the glass with a newspaper as she had seen the boys do in the shops, cleaned the stove as well as she could, and put the whole house in such order as her means would allow. Granny always slept sound and late in the morning, and Nelly rejoiced in having the place all to herself. She felt, somehow, pretty sure of seeing Mr. Grayson in the course of the day, and she meant to have every thing as decent as possible.

After breakfast, Nelly was not sorry to see granny dressing herself to go out. They had an old neighbour, a distant relation of her grandfather, who had moved away to the other end of the town; and granny now and then made a pilgrimage to see and spend the day with her. Nelly felt in her own mind that if Mr. Grayson did come, it would be much better for granny to be out of the way. As soon as she was left alone, she cleaned the floor in the best possible manner, put every thing to rights about the room, and then, as it was a mild Indian-summer day, she took her favourite seat upon the door-step, where she could keep an eye upon Crummie. Her Testament lay upon the step beside her, and she now and then looked at a verse of her lesson.

In the course of the morning, Mr. Grayson made his appearance, as she expected. He had not much to say to Nelly, however. He looked at the house, inside and out; examined the supports and the foundations; shook his head over the fence and the garden; and grunted at the drain, or what went by the name of one. He also examined Nelly's work, and asked what she expected to get for it; inquired where she got her Testament; told her she must be a good girl, learn all she could, speak the truth, and learn to pay her way; and then went away, leaving Nelly in doubt as to whether he was pleased or displeased by what he had seen.

Presently she saw him in earnest conference with Mr. Vandake. Mr. Vandake was a carpenter and joiner, who also built cisterns, and hung bells, and now and then did a little papering and painting, and was the handy-man of the whole neighbourhood, doing little odd jobs for everybody, and especially for Mr. Grayson himself, who kept him employed more than half the time.

Nelly did not know what to think of all these observations and consultations, and, therefore, wisely determined to think of them as little as possible. So she turned her attention upon her work, and employed herself as busily as she could, till it was time for her to go to Mr. Grayson's office. Then, locking up the house and committing Crummie to the care of a good-natured boy who was watching his own cow upon the common, she set out upon her mission, not without some misgivings, but upon the whole, with very good courage.

Mr. Grayson was sitting as before, writing by the bright open fire in his office.

"Sit down, Nelly," said he, kindly, pushing a chair towards her. "I am busy just now; but I shall soon have done."

Nelly waited accordingly. She had her tatting in her pocket (where she now usually carried it), and, taking it out, she worked away busily till Mr. Grayson should be at liberty to attend to her. She presently became so much engaged in disentangling an obstinate knot that she forgot all about every thing else, till Mr. Grayson spoke to her.

"Well done, Nelly! I like to see the minutes taken care of. Take care of the minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves."

Nelly started and blushed.

"I have got into the habit of working at it every minute, so that I don't know how to do without it," said she, in rather a tone of apology.

"So much the better, Nelly. I only wish all the young folks I know had the same habit. But now put it away, and give me all your attention; for I am going to talk to you very seriously,—as though you were a grownup woman."

Nelly put away her work and prepared to listen.

"You see, Nelly, there are several things to be considered," said Mr. Grayson. "It is not merely that your grandmother does not pay her interest punctually,—though that is always annoying to a business man,—but it is the state in which she keeps the place. It is an injury to all the rest of my property to have such an untidy, tumble-down concern in the midst of it. Nobody likes to buy a place next to such slovenly neighbours; and it has really lost me the sale of two or three lots."

"I see," said Nelly, as Mr. Grayson paused. "I should not like it myself."

"Well, then, you can see that there was some excuse for my being displeased. I have waited upon your grandmother, time after time and year after year, more than I ever did upon any one else; because she was poor and a widow, and I felt sorry for her. People say I am hard-hearted and grasping, and all that, you know; and I don't know but they are right, sometimes. But I have not been hard upon her."

"No, sir," said Nelly; "I don't think you have."

"But I can't always go on waiting," continued Mr. Grayson; "and I can't have all the rest of my property injured. That would not be reasonable. However, I am interested in you, Nelly, for your own sake. I have been making inquiries about you. Mrs. Kirkland tells me that you are very industrious and persevering about your work, that you are perfectly honest and extremely desirous to improve. The neighbours tell me the same thing,—that you are honest and punctual in your dealings about your milk, always giving good quality and good measure."

Mr. Grayson paused and looked at Nelly, who blushed high at the praise, while she wondered at what might be coming next.

"I have been thinking over the whole matter," continued Mr. Grayson, once more; "and I have come to this conclusion. I shall let you keep the place, and not ask you for any money, either principal or interest, for a year, on the following conditions."

Nelly listened with all her ears and all her mind.

"You shall lay out all the money you have in hand in repairs upon the house and the place. Mr. Vandake will do the work for you as reasonably as any one. He works for me, and will follow my directions. That is the first condition. Do you understand it?"

"Yes, sir," said Nelly.

"In the second place, having put the place in order, you shall keep it in order. You shall keep the yard clean, both before and behind. You shall not throw your dish-water and slops on the top of the ground or into the street. You shall not scatter swill about. You shall keep the cow tied up in her own part of the yard when she is not running out; and, next spring, you shall either cultivate the garden or put it into grass. You shall keep the windows mended and the fence whole. On these conditions, and no other, you shall keep the place; and you shall not be asked to pay any thing upon it till the first day of next November,—that is, about a year from this time."

"But if I have the money, I should like to pay," Nelly ventured to say.

Mr. Grayson smiled. "Oh, very well. You may make a payment upon the first day of May, if you have ten or twenty dollars to spare. Now, Nelly, I expect you to keep strictly to these conditions; for I intend to do so myself; and I shall not feel myself bound by my part of the bargain unless you keep to yours. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," said Nelly; "and I will do my best. But—"

"Well, but what?"

"I don't know what granny will say. She thinks there is no use in keeping things so nice; and she will not keep Crummie tied up, whatever I say."

"She must keep her tied up, or she won't have any place at all to keep her in," said Mr. Grayson, decidedly. "Tell her so."

"Please, sir," said Nelly, "would you write it all out plain on a piece of paper, so I can read it to granny and to myself? I can read plain writing now."

"Can you?" asked Mr. Grayson. "Read the directions on this letter."

Nelly read, "Mr. John Webster, 96 Wall Street, New York."

"So you can read figures too! Do you know any arithmetic?"

"I am just beginning to learn," said Nelly. "But I haven't got any slate, except Kitty Brown's; and she wants hers back." (For Kitty had sent her word to that effect that very morning).

"Oh, she wants it back, does she? Well, Nelly, you shall not be dependent upon Kitty for a slate any longer. Stop into the book-store, as you go along, and buy yourself a slate. Tell them to charge it to my account."

"I don't believe they will let me have it," said Nelly.

"That is well thought of. I will write you an order."

He wrote something on a paper and handed it to Nelly, who read, "Please let Miss Nelly Ryan have a slate worth twenty-five cents, two pencils, a steel pen and handle, and one quire of ruled foolscap paper."

"That will keep you going for some time," said Mr. Grayson. "Now go and get your things; and tell granny what I say, and make her understand that I am in earnest," he added, laying his hand on Nelly's shoulder. "Remember, I am a man of my word. I have spoken to Vandake; and he will do every thing necessary, at a reasonable rate. Good-by, Nelly."