Up at Merry's"Now fly round, child, and get your sweeping done up smart andearly.""Yes, mother.""I shall want you to help me about the baking, by and by.""Yes, mother.""Roxy is cleaning the cellar-closets, so you'll have to get thevegetables ready for dinner. Father wants a boiled dish, and I shallbe so busy I can't see to it.""Yes, mother."A cheerful voice gave the three answers, but it cost Merry an effortto keep it so, for she had certain little plans of her own whichmade the work before her unusually distasteful. Saturday alwayswas a trying day, for, though she liked to see rooms in order, shehated to sweep, as no speck escaped Mrs. Grant's eye, and only thegood old-fashioned broom, wielded by a pair of strong arms, wasallowed. Baking was another trial: she loved good bread anddelicate pastry, but did not enjoy burning her face over a hot stove,daubing her hands with dough, or spending hours rolling outcookies for the boys; while a "boiled dinner" was her especialhorror, as it was not elegant, and the washing of vegetables was ajob she always shirked when she could.
However, having made up her mind to do her work withoutcomplaint, she ran upstairs to put on her dust-cap, trying to look asif sweeping was the joy of her life.
"It is such a lovely day, I'd id want to rake my garden, and have awalk with Molly, and finish my book so I can get another," shesaid with a sigh, as she leaned out of the open window for a breathof the unusually mild air.
Down in the ten-acre lot the boys were carting and spreading loam;out in the barn her father was getting his plows ready; over the hillrose the smoke of the distant factory, and the river that turned thewheels was gliding through the meadows, where soon theblackbirds would be singing. Old Bess pawed the ground, eager tobe off; the gray hens were scratching busily all about the yard;even the green things in the garden were pushing through thebrown earth, softened by April rains, and there was a shimmer ofsunshine over the wide landscape that made every familiar objectbeautiful with hints of spring, and the activity it brings.
Something made the old nursery hymn come into Merry's head,and humming to herself,"In works of labor or of skillI would be busy too,"she tied on her cap, shouldered her broom, and fell to work soenergetically that she soon swept her way through the chambers,down the front stairs to the parlor door, leaving freshness andorder behind her as she went.
She always groaned when she entered that apartment, and got outof it again as soon as possible, for it was, like most countryparlors, a prim and chilly place, with little beauty and no comfort.
Black horse-hair furniture, very slippery and hard, stood againstthe wall; the table had its gift books, albums, worsted mat and uglylamp; the mantel-piece its china vases, pink shells, and clock thatnever went; the gay carpet was kept distressingly bright by closedshutters six days out of the seven, and a general air of go-to-meeting solemnity pervaded the room. Merry longed to make itpretty and pleasant, but her mother would allow of no changethere, so the girl gave up her dreams of rugs and hangings, finepictures and tasteful ornaments, and dutifully aired, dusted, andshut up this awful apartment once a week, privately resolving that,if she ever had a parlor of her own, it should not be as dismal as atomb.
The dining-room was a very different place, for here Merry hadbeen allowed to do as she liked, yet so gradual had been thechange, that she would have found it difficult to tell how it cameabout. It seemed to begin with the flowers, for her father kept hisword about the "posy pots," and got enough to make quite a littleconservatory in the bay-window, which was sufficiently large forthree rows all round, and hanging-baskets overhead. Beingdiscouraged by her first failure, Merry gave up trying to havethings nice everywhere, and contented herself with making thatone nook so pretty that the boys called it her "bower." Even busyMrs. Grant owned that plants were not so messy as she expected,and the fanner was never tired of watching "little daughter" as shesat at work there, with her low chair and table full of books.
The lamp helped, also, for Merry set up her own, and kept it sowell trimmed that it burned clear and bright, shining on the greenarch of ivy overhead, and on the nasturtium vines framing the oldglass, and peeping at their gay little faces, and at the pretty younggirl, so pleasantly that first her father came to read his paper by it,then her mother slipped in to rest on the lounge in the corner, andfinally the boys hovered about the door as if the "settin'-room" hadgrown more attractive than the kitchen.
But the open fire did more than anything else to win and hold themall, as it seldom fails to do when the black demon of an airtightstove is banished from the hearth. After the room was cleaned tillit shone, Merry begged to have the brass andirons put in, andoffered to keep them as bright as gold if her mother wouldconsent. So the great logs were kindled, and the flames wentdancing up the chimney as if glad to be set free from their prison.
It changed the whole room like magic, and no one couldresist the desire to enjoy its cheery comfort. The farmer'sthree-cornered leathern chair soon stood on one side, and mother'srocker on the other, as they toasted their feet and dozed or chattedin the pleasant warmth.
The boys' slippers were always ready on the hearth; and when thebig boots were once off, they naturally settled down about thetable, where the tall lamp, with its pretty shade of pressed autumnleaves, burned brightly, and the books and papers lay ready to theirhands instead of being tucked out of sight in the closet. They werebeginning to see that "Merry's notions" had some sense in them,since they were made comfortable, and good-naturedly took somepains to please her in various ways. Tom brushed his hair andwashed his hands nicely before he came to table. Dick tried tolower his boisterous laughter, and Harry never smoked in thesitting-room. Even Roxy expressed her pleasure in seeing "thingskind of spruced up," and Merry's gentle treatment of thehard-working drudge won her heart entirely.
The girl was thinking of these changes as she watered her flowers,dusted the furniture, and laid the fire ready for kindling; and, whenall was done, she stood a minute to enjoy the pleasant room, full ofspring sunshine, fresh air, and exquisite order. It seemed to giveher heart for more distasteful labors, and she fell to work at thepies as cheerfully as if she liked it.
Mrs. Grant was flying about the kitchen, getting the loaves ofbrown and white bread ready for the big oven. Roxy's voice cameup from the cellar singing "Bounding Billows," with a swashingand scrubbing accompaniment which suggested that she wasactually enjoying a "life on the ocean wave." Merry, in her neatcap and apron, stood smiling over her work as she deftly rolled andclipped, filled and covered, finding a certain sort of pleasure indoing it well, and adding interest to it by crimping the crust,making pretty devices with strips of paste and star-shapedprickings of the fork.
"Good-will giveth skill," says the proverb, and even particular Mrs.
Grant was satisfied when she paused to examine the pastry withher experienced eye.
"You are a handy child and a credit to your bringing up, though Ido say it. Those are as pretty pies as I'd wish to eat, if they bakewell, and there's no reason why they shouldn't.""May I make some tarts or rabbits of these bits? The boys likethem, and I enjoy modelling this sort of thing," said Merry, whowas trying to mould a bird, as she had seen Ralph do with clay toamuse Jill while the bust was going on.
"No, dear; there's no time for knick-knacks to-day. The beets oughtto be on this minute. Run and get 'em, and be sure you scrape thecarrots well."Poor Merry put away the delicate task she was just beginning tolike, and taking a pan went down cellar, wishing vegetables couldbe grown without earth, for she hated to put her hands in dirtywater. A word of praise to Roxy made that grateful scrubber leaveher work to poke about in the root-cellar, choosing "sech as waspretty much of a muchness, else they wouldn't bile even"; so Merrywas spared that part of the job, and went up to scrape and washwithout complaint, since it was for father. She was repaid at noonby the relish with which he enjoyed his dinner, for Merry tried tomake even a boiled dish pretty by arranging the beets, carrots,turnips, and potatoes in contrasting colors, with the beef hiddenunder the cabbage leaves.
"Now, I'll rest and read for an hour, then I'll rake my garden, or rundown town to see Molly and get some seeds," she thought toherself, as she put away the spoons and glasses, which she liked towash, that they might always be clear and bright.
"If you've done all your own mending, there's a heap of socks to belooked over. Then I'll show you about darning the tablecloths. I dohate to have a stitch of work left over till Monday," said Mrs.
Grant, who never took naps, and prided herself on sitting down toher needle at 3 P.M. every day.
"Yes, mother"; and Merry went slowly upstairs, feeling that a partof Saturday ought to be a holiday after books and work all theweek. As she braided up her hair, her eye fell upon the reflectionof her own face in the glass. Not a happy nor a pretty one just then,and Merry was so unaccustomed to seeing any other, thatinvoluntarily the frown smoothed itself out, the eyes lost theirweary look, the drooping lips curved into a smile, and, leaning herelbows on the bureau, she shook her head at herself, saying, halfaloud, as she glanced at Ivanhoe lying near,"You needn't look so cross and ugly just because you can't havewhat you want. Sweeping, baking, and darning are not so bad asbeing plagued with lovers and carried off and burnt at the stake, soI won't envy poor Rebecca her jewels and curls and romantictimes, but make the best of my own."Then she laughed, and the bright face came back into the mirror,looking like an old friend, and Merry went on dressing with care,for she took pleasure in her own little charms, and felt a sense ofcomfort in knowing that she could always have one pretty thing tolook at if she kept her own face serene and sweet. It certainlylooked so as it bent over the pile of big socks half an hour later,and brightened with each that was laid aside. Her mother saw it,and, guessing why such wistful glances went from clock towindow, kindly shortened the task of table-cloth darning by doinga good bit herself, before putting it in............