Merry and MollyNow let us see how the other missionaries goton with their tasks.
Farmer Grant was a thrifty, well-to-do man, anxious to give hischildren greater advantages than he had enjoyed, and to improvethe fine place of which he was justly proud. Mrs. Grant was anotable housewife, as ambitious and industrious as her husband,but too busy to spend any time on the elegancics of life, thoughalways ready to help the poor and sick like a good neighbor andChristian woman. The three sons--Tom, Dick, and Harry--were bigfellows of seventeen, nineteen, and twenty-one; the first two on thefarm, and the elder in a store just setting up for himself.
Kind-hearted but rough-mannered youths, who loved Merry verymuch, but teased her sadly about her "fine lady airs," as they calledher dainty ways and love of beauty.
Merry was a thoughtful girl, full of innocent fancies, refined tastes,and romantic dreams, in which no one sympathized at home,though she was the pet of the family. It did seem, to an outsider, asif the delicate little creature had got there by mistake, for shelooked very like a tea-rose in a field of clover and dandelions,whose highest aim in life was to feed cows and help make rootbeer.
When the girls talked over the new society, it pleased Merry verymuch, and she decided not only to try and love work better, but toconvert her family to a liking for pretty things, as she called herown more cultivated tastes.
"I will begin at once, and show them that I don't mean to shirk myduty, though I do want to be nice," thought she, as she sat at supperone night and looked about her, planning her first move.
Not a very cheering prospect for a lover of the beautiful, certainly,for the big kitchen, though as neat as wax, had nothing lovely in it,except a red geranium blooming at the window. Nor were thepeople all that could be desired, in some respects, as they sat aboutthe table shovelling in pork and beans with their knives, drinkingtea from their saucers, and laughing out with a hearty "Haw, haw,"when anything amused them. Yet the boys were handsome, strongspecimens, the farmer a hale, benevolent-looking man, thehousewife a pleasant, sharp-eyed matron, who seemed to findcomfort in looking often at the bright face at her elbow, with thebroad forehead, clear eyes, sweet mouth, and quiet voice that camelike music in among the loud masculine ones, or the quick,nervous tones of a woman always in a hurry.
Merry's face was so thoughtful that evening that her fatherobserved it, for, when at home, he watched her as one watches akitten, glad to see anything so pretty, young, and happy, at its play.
"Little daughter has got something on her mind, I mistrust. Comeand tell father all about it," he said, with a sounding slap on hisbroad knee as he turned his chair from the table to the ugly stove,where three pairs of wet boots steamed underneath, and a greatkettle of cider apple-sauce simmered above.
"When I've helped clear up, I'll come and talk. Now, mother, yousit down and rest; Roxy and I can do everything," answered Merry,patting the old rocking-chair so invitingly that the tired womancould not resist, especially as watching the kettle gave her anexcuse for obeying.
"Well, I don't care if I'd o, for I've been on my feet since fiveo'clock. Be sure you cover things up, and shut the buttery door, andput the cat down cellar, and sift your meal. I'll see to thebuckwheats last thing before I go to bed."Mrs. Grant subsided with her knitting, for her hands were neveridle; Tom tilted his chair back against the wall and picked his teethwith his pen-knife; Dick got out a little pot of grease, to make theboots water-tight; and Harry sat down at the small table to lookover his accounts, with an important air--for everyone occupiedthis room, and the work was done in the out-kitchen behind.
Merry hated clearing up, but dutifully did every distasteful task,and kept her eye on careless Roxy till all was in order; then shegladly went to perch on her father's knee, seeing in all the facesabout her the silent welcome they always wore for the "little one.
"Yes, I do want something, but I know you will say it is silly," shebegan, as her father pinched her blooming cheek, with the wishthat his peaches would ever look half as well.
"Shouldn't wonder if it was a doll now"; and Mr. Grant stroked herhead with an indulgent smile, as if she was about six instead offifteen.
"Why, father, you know I don't! I haven't played with dollies foryears and years. No; I want to fix up my room pretty, like Jill's. I'lldo it all myself, and only want a few things, for I don't expect it tolook as nice as hers."Indignation gave Merry courage to state her wishes boldly, thoughshe knew the boys would laugh. They did, and her mother said in atone of surprise,"Why, child, what more can you want? I'm sure your room isalways as neat as a new pin, thanks to your bringing up, and I toldyou to have a fire there whenever you wanted to.""Let me have some old things out of the garret, and I'll show youwhat I want. It is neat, but so bare and ugly I hate to be there. I doso love something pretty to look at!" and Merry gave a little shiverof disgust as she turned her eyes away from the large greasy bootDick was holding up to be sure it was well lubricated all round.
"So do I, and that's a fact. I couldn't get on without my pretty girlhere, anyway. Why, she touches up the old place better than adozen flower-pots in full blow," said the farmer, as his eye wentfrom the scarlet geranium to the bright young face so near his own.
"I wish I had a dozen in the sitting-room window. Mother says theyare not tidy, but I'd keep them neat, and I know you'd like it,"broke in Merrry, glad of the chance to get one of the long-desiredwishes of her heart fulfilled.
"I'll fetch you some next time I go over to Ballad's. Tell me whatyou want, and we'll have a posy bed somewhere round, see if wedon't," said her father, dimly understanding what she wanted.
"Now, if mother says I may fix my room, I shall be satisfied, andI'll do my chores without a bit of fuss, to show how grateful I am,"said the girl, thanking her father with a kiss, and smiling at hermother so wistfully that the good woman could not refuse.
"You may have anything you like out of the blue chest. There's alot of things there that the moths got at after Grandma died, and Icouldn't bear to throw or give 'em away. Trim up your room as youlike, and mind you don't forget your part of the bargain," answeredMrs. Grant, seeing profit in the plan.
"I won't; I'll work all the morning to-morrow, and in the afternoonI'll get ready to show you what I call a nice, pretty room,"answered Merry, looking so pleased it seemed as if another flowerhad blossomed in the large bare kitchen.
She kept her word, and the very stormy afternoon when Jill gotinto trouble, Merry was working busily at her little bower. In theblue chest she found a variety of treasures, and ignoring the mothholes, used them to the best advantage, trying to imitate the simplecomfort with a touch of elegance which prevailed in Mrs. Minot'sback bedroom.
Three faded red-moreen curtains went up at the windows over thechilly paper shades, giving a pleasant glow to the bare walls. A redquilt with white stars, rather the worse for many washings, coveredthe bed, and a gay cloth the table, where a judicious arrangementof books and baskets concealed the spots. The little air-tight stovewas banished, and a pair of ancient andirons shone in the fire-light.
Grandma's last and largest braided rug lay on the hearth, and herbrass candlesticks adorned the bureau, over the mirror of whichwas festooned a white muslin skirt, tied up with Merry's red sash.
This piece of elegance gave the last touch to her room, shethought, and she was very proud of it, setting forth all her smallstore of trinkets in a large shell, with an empty scent bottle, and aclean tidy over the pincushion. On the walls she hung threeold-fashioned pictures, which she ventured to borrow from thegarret till better could be found. One a mourning piece, with avery tall lady weeping on an urn in a grove of willows, and twosmall boys in knee breeches and funny little square tails to theircoats, looking like cherubs in large frills. The other was as good asa bonfire, being an eruption of Vesuvius, and very lurid indeed, forthe Bay of Naples was boiling like a pot, the red sky raining rocks,and a few distracted people lying flat upon the shore. The thirdwas a really pretty scene of children dancing round a May-pole, forthough nearly a hundred years old, the little maids smiled and theboys pranced as gayly as if the flowers they carried were still aliveand sweet.
"Now I'll call them all to see, and say that it is pretty. Then I'llenjoy it, and come here when things look dismal and bareeverywhere else," said Merry, when at last it was done. She hadworked all the afternoon, and only finished at supper time, so thecandles had to be lighted that the toilette might look its best, andimpress the beholders with an idea of true elegance. Unfortunately,the fire smoked a little, and a window was set ajar to clear theroom; an evil disposed gust blew in, wafting the thin draperywithin reach of the light, and when Merry threw open the doorproudly thinking to display her success, she was horrified to findthe room in a blaze, and half her labor all in vain.
The conflagration was over in a minute, however, for the boys toredown the muslin and stamped out the fire with much laughter,while Mrs. Grant bewailed the damage to her carpet, and poorMerry took refuge in her father's arms, refusing to be comforted inspite of his kind commendation of "Grandma's fixins."The third little missionary had the hardest time of all, and her firstefforts were not much more satisfactory nor successful than theothers. Her father was away from morning till night, and then hadhis paper to read, books to keep, or "a man to see down town," sothat, after a hasty word at tea, he saw no more of the children tillanother evening, as they were seldom up at his early breakfast. Hethought they were well taken care of, for Miss Bathsheba Daweswas an energetic, middle-aged spinster when she came into thefamily, and had been there fifteen years, so he did not observe,what a woman would have seen at once, that Miss Bat was gettingold and careless, and everything about the house was at sixes andsevens. She took good care of him, and thought she had done herduty if she got three comfortable meals, nursed the children whenthey were ill, and saw that the house did not burn up. So MariaLouisa and Napoleon Bonaparte got on as they could, without thetender cares of a mother. Molly had been a happy-go-lucky child,contented with her pets, her freedom, and little Boo to love; butnow she was just beginning to see that they were not like otherchildren, and to feel ashamed of it.
"Papa is busy, but Miss Bat ought to see to us; she is paid for it,and goodness knows she has an easy time now, for if I ask her todo anything, she groans over her bones, and tells me young folksshould wait on themselves. I take all the care of Boo off her hands,but I can't wash my own things, and he hasn't a decent trouser tohis blessed little legs. I'd tell papa, but it wouldn't do any good;he'd only say, 'Yes, child, yes, I'll attend to it,' and never do athing."This used to be Molly's lament, when some especially trying eventoccurred, and if the girls were not there to condole with her, shewould retire to the shed-chamber, call her nine cats about her, and,sitting in the old bushel basket, pull her hair about her ears, andscold all alone. The cats learned to understand this habit, andnobly did their best to dispel the gloom which now and thenobscured the sunshine of their little mistress. Some of them wouldcreep into her lap and............