Chapter III: Progress

HETTY'S knitting went on most prosperously for two or three days. Like most girls, she was fond of novelty, and any new piece of work was apt to engage all her attention,—while it was new. In the present instance, she worked so hard and so steadily as to draw forth a caution from her mother.

"You must be more moderate, my love. You are not used to knitting, and unless you are careful you will make your shoulders lame and your fingers sore, and there will be an end of your work for some time."

But Hetty could not be cautioned. She declared it did not hurt her fingers nor tire her the least bit.

But after a few days, Mrs. Laurens noticed that the stocking was laid down several times in the course of the evening, and finally put aside altogether.

"What is the matter, Hetty? Have you any difficulty with your work?"

"No, mother; but I have rubbed a piece of skin off my finger in some way, and this afternoon I went to push my needle down, and the point went into the sore place; and now it pains me so, you can't think!"

"You should have taken advice, you see, my dear. Inexperienced knitters are very apt—"

"But, mother," interrupted Hetty, "it was not the knitting. It was because the skin was off."

"How came the skin off, my dear?"

Hetty could not tell. She could not deny that the finger ached badly, but was quite sure it would be all right in the morning. In the morning, however, it was worse than ever, swollen and inflamed, and Mrs. Laurens decided that it must be poulticed, and that Henrietta must stay at home and take care of it. Hetty was unwilling to let her stocking alone; but it was clearly impossible to knit with her right forefinger tied up in a bag of bread-and-milk, and she was obliged to submit.

In two or three days, the finger was well, but Hetty's ardour had evidently abated. Her stocking was not taken up the moment she entered the house and kept in hand till bedtime. On the contrary, she found time to read, to play, and even to make a rain-cloak for her doll,—for Henrietta had not quite given up dolls, though she had begun to be rather ashamed of them.

"I am afraid you are growing tired of your knitting, Hetty," said her mother, one evening, as Henrietta, after finishing her lessons, settled herself with a story-book. "You know it was part of the bargain that you were to finish whatever you began."

"Yes, mother, of course. But there is plenty of time before Christmas, and I want to finish this book directly, because Minny has promised it to Sarah Stone."

"Very well, my dear: only you will find it very unpleasant to be hurried at the last, and you know they must be done at the time."

Henrietta made no reply, and Mrs. Laurens dropped the subject.

"I don't seem to see Miss Hetty knitting much now a-days," said Peter to Cecy one day, as they were taking their accustomed round on the common. "Has she got tired of it already?"

"Why, no, I don't think she is tired of it—at least she says she isn't," replied Cecy, after some consideration. "But you know, Peter, she had a sore finger."

"I know she had,—two weeks ago," said Peter, smiling.

"What do you think is the reason that Hetty begins things and don't finish them, Peter?" asked Cecy.

"I think that she don't count the cost beforehand."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, suppose you should go, we will say, to a toy-shop, to buy a doll's house and furniture. You see a house that pleases you, and you say at once that you will take it; but when you come to pay for it, you find that it will use up all your money, so that you will have nothing left to pay for your chairs and tables, and so on. That would not be very wise, would't?"

"Why, no," replied Cecy. "I think it would be very silly, because the house would be of no use without any thing to put in it. The best way would be to ask the price of the house, and then of the furniture. Then I would count my money and see if I had enough to pay for them both, and if I had not, then I would pick out a cheaper house—"

"Or cheaper furniture, whichever you thought best," said Peter. "That would be counting the cost."

"But yet I don't understand why you say that Hetty did not count the cost. She had plenty of money to buy the yarn, and it does not cost any thing to knit."

"Not in money, perhaps; but still I think it costs something. If Miss Hetty undertakes to knit a pair of socks by a certain time, she must give up a good many other things. She can't spend time to read her story-books, or play with her dolly, or walk with her little friends, and she must sit still in the house when she would rather be out-of-doors. Perhaps Miss Hetty didn't think of all this when she began; and that is what I mean by saying that she didn't count the cost."

"I see," said Cecy. "After all, Peter, I can't help wishing very much that I could knit. I should so like to make a pair of nice warm socks for one of Uncle David's men!"

"And I should like to have you. It would be very nice if you could knit, not only for the sake of the soldiers, but because it would help you to amuse yourself sometimes, when your mother is busy or wants to be doing something else."

"I know it. Sometimes I think I am selfish about that, Peter. Do you think I am?"

"I don't think you are always quite so considerate as you might be," replied Peter. "That is one of the great troubles of being always sick. People have to think of themselves a great deal, and it naturally makes them a little selfish."

"I don't want to be selfish, Peter," said Cecy, rather anxiously; "but, after all, it is very hard to lie on the sofa all day and do nothing at all except think how one's shoulder aches."

"That's true," said Peter. "I think it is very hard,—especially when you see others running about and playing as they please. You are wonderfully cheerful and good-natured, considering all you have to bear."

Cecy was silent for a while. "I am thinking about something very important, Peter," said she at last; "but I am not sure—I want to count the cost, you know. I am thinking whether if I did not ask mother to cut me out any animals, or paint me any pictures, or hold me in her lap, for several days, whether she could not find time to knit a pair of socks: that would be something as if I had knit them myself,—not just the same, but something like it."

"I think, as far as that goes, it would be a great deal better than knitting them yourself, Cecy," replied Peter. "But I am afraid you would find it very dull, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose it would be tiresome," said Cecy, with a sigh; "and I am not sure—I have not decided yet; but, then, I do want to do something for the poor soldiers so much, and I don't see how I can in any other way. So don't tell any one, Peter, till I quite make up my mind. See, there is Hetty coming, with Minny Granger. I don't like Minny half so well as Elsie Probert; but Elsie hardly ever comes to our house now. I wonder what is the reason?"

Henrietta and Minny were coming in the opposite directions, and, as they met, Hetty naturally stopped to speak to her sister.

"Are you having a nice time, Cecy? Why don't you go and see the flowers?"

"I like to walk here under the trees, and, besides, I love to watch the squirrels. Only think, Hetty, I saw one of them walk right up on a gentleman's knee and eat an almond out of his fingers!"

"Oh, what a story!" exclaimed Minny, thoughtlessly.

Cecy coloured in a way very unusual with her, and looked just ready to cry.

"You are very wrong to speak in that way, Miss Minny," said Peter, gravely. "Cecy never tells stories. I wish all the little girls I know were as good as she is, about that."

"Well, well, I don't choose to be lectured by you," returned Minny, colouring in her turn from vexation. "Come along, Hetty: I don't want to stay here all day, with every one staring at us. What an impudent man that is!" she continued, as they walked on. "I don't see how your mother can keep him."

"Peter is not impudent," said Hetty, not at all pleased with Minny's tone and manner. "I think some one else was impudent, for my part. You had no business to speak so to Cecy. Mother says she never knew a child so truthful as she is; and as for the squirrel, I have seen him do it myself, dozens of times."

"Dear me! What a fuss about nothing!" exclaimed Minny. "What did I say, after all? Who minds what they say to such children?"

Henrietta did not answer, and they walked along a little while in silence.

"After all, Hetty," resumed Minny, after a pause, "I do wonder that a lady of your mother's taste should let a poor little deformed fright, like Cecy, be made so conspicuous. I should think she would rather keep her out of sight. Everybody notices her, and knows who she belongs to, of course; and people make remarks about it, I can tell you."

"People had better mind their own business, I think," replied Henrietta.

"Oh, yes, it is very easy to say that; but, you see, they don't and won't. And, besides, it annoys other people to see such a miserable little object."

"They may be annoyed, then," said Henrietta, who loved her sister dearly, though she was now and then tempted to be hasty with her. "It would be a pretty story, indeed, if poor Cecy were to lose all the good of being in the fresh air, and seeing the people and the children, because she is sickly and deformed! I should think you would be ashamed, Minny Granger."

"Dear me! What a fuss for nothing!" said Minny again. "I am sure it is nothing to me: so you need not be so angry, Henrietta. I thought you would like to know what people say about it: that's all. How do you get on with your knitting?"

"I have not knit much lately," replied Henrietta, blushing a little, as she remembered how little progress the stocking had made for the last week. "You know my finger was sore, and that got me out of the way of it. But there will be plenty of time before Christmas."

"Have you finished one yet?"

"No, indeed: I have not got up to the heel of the first. Have you?"

Minny laughed. "I have not knit three inches yet. The yarn is so coarse, and the blue comes off on my fingers. After all, as Mr. Cheselden says, it is not exactly the work for ladies."

"But, Minny, all the ladies do it! Think of Mrs. Howard, and Mrs. and Miss Lewis,—how much they have done."

"I know that; but, after all, it is not very genteel work. But I mean to finish mine if I can—though I sha'n't make myself a slave to them. And that makes me think! Do you know I believe Elsie Probert is knitting for the soldiers, after all? I see her up at her window, or in their back parlour, day after day, with a blue yarn sock, knitting as fast as her fingers can fly."

"I don't believe they are for the soldiers," said Hetty, an ill-defined fooling of anger rising in her heart. "They are for her father or some one in the family. She would have spoken of it in school."

"I don't know: I don't believe she would, after all that was said. Anyhow, she gets help about it."

"How do you know?" asked Hetty.

"Why, you know, I can see right into their back parlour from my window. So I looked out, and there I saw Elsie knitting away very earnestly. I had a curiosity to see what she was doing: so I got mother's opera-glass, and, sure enough, it was a blue yarn stocking, with a strip of bright red yarn round the top, as if it had been put in for a mark.

"Well, I didn't think any thing about it till the next day. I was in the passenger-car, and in came Elsie with another lady,—her cousin, I believe. The lady got into the car, and as Elsie bade her good-by, I heard her say, 'Don't forget.'

"No sooner was she settled in her place than she pulled out this very sock with the red yarn in it, and knit on it all the way to Milton. So don't that look as if Miss Elsie was playing a double game?"

"It does, certainly," said Henrietta; "and yet I don't like to think so. It isn't a bit like Elsie."

"Well, now, I think it is. It is just these quiet girls that teachers think are model girls, who are always doing such things. But time will show. Don't say any thing about it, Henrietta,—because it may be her own stocking, after all; and then we should be in a fix."

Henrietta bade her friend good-by, and walked homeward, feeling rather unpleasantly about several things. She was vexed at Minny for speaking of and to Cecy as she had done, and she was annoyed at the idea that the child should be the object of remark. She thought of the small progress her sock had made, and of the great things she had talked of doing. What was to become of the two or three pairs she had promised to knit? It was now almost the end of October; and all must be done by Christmas!

"How silly I was to say so much about it!" she said to herself. "I don't see why I couldn't hold my tongue. I mean to knit all the evening, at any rate. It will be too bad if Elsie should get hers done, after all. But I don't believe it. She is always knitting for her father or some of her host of brothers."

Evening came, and, unluckily for the sock, brought with it a new monthly magazine. Hetty could not forego the pleasure of cutting the leaves and looking at the pictures. But if one does not mean to read a new book, cutting the leaves is a mere trifling with temptation.

"I will just read this one story," said Hetty. "That will not take long."

It took till bedtime, however, and the stocking lay untouched that night.

Next day was Saturday. Mrs. Laurens always insisted on Hetty's mending her own stockings, and doing sundry other similar things for herself. And when these were finished, she did not feel at all inclined to sit down with her knitting.

"Saturday is not a good day for such things. I will begin in earnest on Monday, and finish them as fast as I can."

Meantime, Cecy had been reflecting on the idea which had occurred to her mind, and came to the conclusion that she would try it, at least.

So after she was put to bed, she called her mother and suggested the project for her consideration. Mrs. Laurens was not a little surprised and delighted at such an effort at magnanimity on the part of her little daughter, and readily consented to do her share. She was always afraid that Cecy's helplessness and suffering would make her selfish, and it gave her heartfelt pleasure to see that she was capable of making such a sacrifice.

"And, mother, please don't tell Hetty,—because I should like to surprise her."

"Very well, my dear: I will keep the secret. I can easily do so by knitting while she is in school."

"Don't you think I might knit a little, just a very little, you know, mother?"

"You can try, Cecy; but you must not be disappointed if you fail. Knitting is rather hard work for those who are unaccustomed to it."

"And will you get the yarn the first thing Monday morning?"

"I cannot say that, my dear," said her mother, smiling at her eagerness,—"because it may rain, or I may be engaged. However, if that should happen, I will take part of Henrietta's and buy her some more. I promise you that, if it be possible, the socks shall be begun Monday morning."

Monday morning came, and Cecy's gratified eyes beheld the socks fairly begun. She would not be satisfied without trying to knit; and great was her pleasure when she actually accomplished a whole round without an error. She would gladly have tried another, but her mother advised her against it.

"You have done very well for the first time, my dear, and if it does you no harm, you may try again this afternoon. But you know it will be bad economy both of my time and yours to make yourself sick."

To this Cecy heartily agreed. So she lay back on her pillows and watched the rapid motion of her mother's fingers with great satisfaction, much delighted to find that she could knit and tell stories at the same time.

When Hetty went to school on Monday morning, she found all the knitters in a state of great excitement. Word had come that the socks were greatly needed and must be finished as soon as possible. Happy now were those who had made the most of their time, and long the faces of the little workwomen who had acted on the idea that there was no hurry,—they could finish their work long before Christmas. Among these last was Henrietta; and the blood mounted to her face as she thought of her poor mateless stocking not yet up to the heel. Especially was she annoyed at a proposition which was made by Rose, that all the knitters should bring their work to school the next morning and compare progress. She would gladly have opposed the idea if she could have found any reasonable pretext for so doing, but she could think of no reason but the true one, which she was ashamed to confess.

"What do you say, Elsie?" asked Rose, turning to her as she stood silently by. "Are you willing to bring your work for inspection?"

"Of course," replied Elsie: "only perhaps some of the girls would like a little more time."

"But, my dear, what difference will it make?" asked Rose. "There will be just as much time to finish them afterwards."

"Elsie wants time to get her stocking home from Milton," whispered Minny to Henrietta, who nodded assent without paying much attention to what was said. She was thinking how much she could possibly knit before to-morrow, and wondering doubtfully whether her mother would allow her to omit her music-lesson, which occupied an hour and a half on Monday afternoon.

"To be sure," said Elsie, smiling; "I know that, of course; but I was thinking that some of us might like to get our work a little further along before making a display of it."

"Then you 'are' knitting, after all, Elsie?" said Lizzy Becket.

Elsie nodded.

"Well, for my part, I like a little consistency," said Minny, decidedly. "If I had said I wouldn't knit, at least I would stick to it. Consistency above all things, I say."

"Above right, for instance?" said Rose.

Minny did not find it convenient to hear this question, but Rose persisted.

"Suppose you had made a mistake, and begun your stocking too small: would you pull it out, or would you knit it too small all the way through for the sake of being consistent?"

"How ridiculous you are, Rose! Just as if that had any thing to do with the matter!"

"I don't know why not," returned Rose. "It seems to me exactly a case in point."

"But, Minny," said Elsie, "I never said I wouldn't knit. I only said I must take time and consider the matter before I made any promise. Where is the inconsistency in that?"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Minny. "What a fuss about nothing! Who cares whether you were consistent or not?"

"But how much have you done, Elsie?" asked little Isabella Chesterfield.

"You will see to-morrow," replied Elsie, good-humouredly. "That is, if it is decided that we shall have a grand display."

"'I' am willing—" "And so am I—" was heard from one and another.

"What do you say, Henrietta?" asked Rose.

"I'm sure I don't care," replied Henrietta, pettishly. "I am heartily sick of the whole thing, any way! I wish we had never begun."

"I say, girls," said Lizzy, "let's beset Miss Armitage to let us omit the paper this week."

"A good thought—only she won't do it," said one of the girls.

"Why not?"

"Because—to begin with—she never does let us off from any thing; and, besides, didn't we promise, when we began, not to ask to be let off?"

"The idea of Miss Armitage letting any one off!" exclaimed Elsie, laughing. "And, indeed, having so promised, I don't see how we could very 'consistently,' as Minny says, try to beg off from the papers."

"That's a very different thing!" said Minny.

"Very different, I admit; but I don't think the advantage of the difference is on our side. No, no! Let's stick to our bargain, and do our best. And, girls," said Elsie, "won't you bring in your pieces to-morrow? You know I have it all to do this week."

"All what?" asked Henrietta.

"All the work upon the paper, because Jenny Price is sick, and Mary Carew is out of town. So pray be in time."