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Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be Hlmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many fframes as required. The foSlowing diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmAs A des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque ie document est trop grand pour dtre reprcduit en un seul cliche, ii est film6 A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant Ie nombre d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iilustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 I MISS. WBBSTBR AVI) BBON. Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant ■Ir.^. ^ H --ijc BV PANSY cps^u^,;:} Author of Chrissy's Endeavor Judge Burnham's Daughtert Little Fishers and their Net» Christie's Christmas Ester Ried . Four Girls at Chautauqua cTs^kitL^/^ Af. /?/<^e/i ILLUSTRATED tCoronto: / WILLIAM BRIGGS, WESLEY BUILDINGS. p. W. C0ATE6, Montreal, Qu«. S, F. HUESTIS, Halifax, N.S, 1786 Entered according to the Act of the Parlitinent of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninetyi bjr WiLLlAM BmggSi Toronto, in the office of the Minister of AgricaltttrCf at Ottawa. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. THB FAJIILY OATHKRINQ CHAPTER U. THB •' DBUCIOUS SECRET " CHAPTER III. •' ABBN'T TaiNGS QUEER? " CHAPTER IV. »K" DUNMORB BRYANT CHAPTER V. " DEB DUNMORB'8 " RIVALS CHAPTER VI. ' DIONLYHAD I CHAPTER VII. A iraw ACQUAINTANCE CHAPTER VIII. ben's visit * • • • CHAPTER IX. " IK) IT, AmrBow " . ' » » 98 41 55 69 81 99 115 ' 1«9 ^ ; CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. "GETTmO INTO CLOSE QUARTERS" CHAPTER XI. "WHAT'S THE USE?" CHAPTER XII. *' I THINK AS MUCH " . . CHAPTER XIV. PATIENCE AND PEKSRVERANCE 160 167 182 CHAPTER XIII. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE " . . . . 19^ • • CHAPTER XV. DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN .... CHAPTER XVI. EBON " LENDS A HAND " • • • CHAPTER XVII. A "BUSINESS TRANSACTION" . . . . CHAPTER XVIII. "YOU WAIT AND SEE" CHAPTER XIX. "TENTHS" . CHAPTER XX. OBTTmO READY FOR THE FAIR . * 211 223 242 268 274 291 806 fj CONTEIfTS. CHAPTER XXI. A " CHANCE '• CHAPTER XXII. JUST COMMON SENSE" . • • • CHAPTER XXIII. WHO KNOWS?' CHAPTER XXIV. A HAPPT MOTHER . 824 341 858 376 5«j / M \ 1 u Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant. CHAPTER I. THB FAMILY OATHEBINa. T\AIST BRYANT sat on a low chair in -*-^ front of the fire, staring into the blaze. Her hands were folded idly in her lap, and her eyes had in them a look which the others called " far away." Daisy was thinking. She did a good deal of thinking for a girl only eight years old. The chair she sat in was a little old-fashioned splint- bottomed one, whose legs had been cut o£E, on purpose to make it a comfortable height for Daisy's little legs when they were shorter than at the time of which I write. Daisy still liked the chair very much, and always sat in it when she was thinking. The other furniture in the room matched Daisy's chair. That is, it was 7 r 8 msS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. neither newer nor nicer in any way. There was not a great deal of it. The floor had a neat strip of rag carpeting over in the part which Daisy called "the study." There was also a little square table over there, with the Bible on it, and Daisy's geography, and Ben's arithmetic, and a tiny basket that held Line's crochet work. At first, Daisy had objected to the crochet work — that it did not belong to a study — but one evening, in the very middle of Miss Sutherland's study table, what did she see but a fluffy ruffle with Miss Sutherland's needle set in its hem, and her thimble lying beside it ! Since that time the crochet basket had held peaceable possession. In front of the stand was a high-backed chair, also of the old-fashioned kind. It used to have arms, but one of them had been broken in mov- ing, and one day the other slipped out of place and fell on the floor. What Mrs. Bryant said when she saw it was, ** Now if those rods which used to support the arms were taken out, that would make a good sewing chair." So Ben took the rods out, and a sewing chair it became. Ben had also con> trived a neat little place under the stand, into THE FAMILY GATIIERINO, which Mrs. Biyant's work basket would fit. That work basket was really a sore trial to Daisy ; she felt very sure it ought not to be part of the furniture of a study. But of course mother must sit with them in the long winter evenings, and part of mother's life was that never-empty basket. One day a bright thought came to Daisy, or rather to Ben. "They have waste baskets in studies always, I guess," Daisy said, looking . thoughtfully at the offending basket. "At least Miss Sutherland does, and I suppose they all do ; I can see how they would need them. But then, yours isn't a waste basket, is it, mother ? " "I don't know about that," Ben had said, just as the last quarter cf his slice of bread was going into his mouth. " I think there's a good deal wasted out of my stockings by the time they are popped in there ; the pair I wore last week were wasted so badly that my two big toes were nothing to speak of, the last two days." "And I should say there was considerable waste to the elbow of your brown dress that went into the basket last night," Line said, reaching for a second baked potato, then de- ciding she would leave it to " warm up." 10 MtSS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Line was eleven^ and had to do her share of the thinking. Daisy turned beaming eyes on her mother. " There is a sense in which it is a waste bas- ket, after all. Don't you think so, mother? " ** Seems to be," said the mother, trying not to smile at Daisy's large phrases. "Seams to sew, you mean, mother," said Ben, who was always making puns, " to spice the dinner with," he sometimes told Line when they were having an unusually dry meal. Then they all laughed, and the question of the waste work-basket was comfortably settled. The study had almost no other furniture of its own — unless a pleasant window where the after- noon son shone in, and lovely sunsets exhibited, may be called furniture. It had a v *■■ white curtain, made of the better half of a sheet, the other pa.rt having "wasted" away. In the evening when the work was done, Daisy's low chair, and Line's green painted wooden one, and Ben's, from which the back was gone, moved into the btudy, where the arithmetic and geography, and sometimes a spelling-book, held close attention, Line's swift fingers weaving her web of crochet while she studied. Daisy had THE FAMILY GATHERING. 11 dreams of a difEereot study from this; she never peeped into Miss Sutherland's on the hill — whither she was often sent on errands, either to take home the new strip of crochet work, or the pile of fresh handkerchiefs her mother had ironed — but she told herself, "One of these days we'll have a study just like this, hammock and all." For one of the things which especially took her fancy, was that lovely gold-colored hammock which swayed gracefully to and fro, with Miss Sutherland looking lovely in her white cashmere wrapper, lounging in it, book in hand. The two great cottages of chairs which were always in this room, Daisy decided should be one for mother, and one for company ; but as for Line and Ben and herself, she could never be quite sure just what sort of chair would be the beet to read and study in. " I don't quite like the cottages for studying," she would say reflectively, " because, you see, they are so soft and fluffy, that all I want to do when I get into one is to curl up in a nice ball, and think ; and I can't ever study well when I want to think."] There was a shout of laughter over this ; and Ben said that because Daisy did her studying 12 MISS DEE DUNMORE SBTANT. I without any thinking, must be the reason why she always wanted to spell believe "e i," instead of " i e." But Mrs. Bryant took Daisy's part, declared she understood her perfectly, and that she did not think Miss Sutherl?^d's "cottages" were good chairs for studying. So that matter was still unsettled. As to the part of the room where Daisy sat, which did not belong to the study, there was a cook-stove, which at this moment was aglow; not so much because the day was unusually cold, as because Mrs. Bryant needed some irons heated just right for very fine ironing. Her table and ironing-board oc- cupied quite a large space; certain shelves ranged along the wall held all the dishes the small house owned, and these were hidden from dust behind neat calico curtains, drawn close. For the rest, there was another table where the kitchen work was done, with a little " house " under it where the pots and kettles and pans lived, curtained in. A chair apiece for the four who belonged to the family, a beautifully clean floor, a bush in the south window that occasionally put forth a red rose — that was all. Poor? Well, Mrs. Bryant and Ben and Line knew that they were. Sometimes Daisy THE FAMILY GATHERING. 18 shrewdly suspected it ; though the burdens of poverty were kept from her young shoulders as much as possible. She knew that their house was very small — ridiculously so — when com- pared with the Sutherland home. In fact I will give you a glimpse of that little cottage as it shrank away from view behind the hill, on that November day. Just a queer little cabin, with old-fashioned windows and doors. Not intended for a house at all, in the first place ; but it had grown into one, because of Mrs. Bryant's needs. Daisy knew that her mother had to work very hard to furnish even this small home with the necessaries of life. She knew, also, that in the busy season Line and Ben had to work as hard as their mother ; and as the busy season reached quite beyond the time for the schools to re-open in the fall. Line and Ben had been always behind in their studies, which had been a sore trial, not only to them, but to Daisy, ever since she could remember, because she saw an intimate connec- tion between that and her mother's sorrowful face and occasional tears. Now you are anxious to know what made **tbe busy season/' and what sort of work it i: 14 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. was in which all, even Daisy, daring this last year, could help. Why, you must know that Mrs. Bryant lived in a village where was a large canning factory. Here were canned all sorts of fruits and vege- tables — peas and beans and corn and tomatoes — and some of the various sorts had a fashion of getting themselves ripe at the same time, and of crowding themselves into the factory with a determined air that said, " Take us now, or not at all. We'll decay, we'll sour, we'll dry up, we'll ruin ourselves in some way, unless you give us immediate attention." And so true to their word were they, that all the village grew into the habit of heeding their warning, and peaches were pared, and corn husked, and the little mill which cut it from the cob was fed as fast as two busy pairs of hands could push in the com; and the great engine wheel whizzed around, and the great iron furnaces capable of taking care of several hundred cans at once, were heated; and for days and days people flew around that great building as though everything that was worth caring for in this world war; com and tomatoes, and a few such things. THE FAMILY GATHEBING. 16 Within the last year Daisy had been pro- moted, and allowed to work a few hoars of each day in the factory. What do you think she did ? You would never gness in the world, I believe, so I will have to tell yon. Hour after hour were her small neat fingers kept busy laying shining little tin covers on the filled cans, ready for the hands of the man who sealed them on ! Now confess, didn't you suppose you could cover all the tin cans there were in the world, in the space of an hour or two? Yet here was spry little Daisy working at it, day after day ! Ah ! but you see you don't begin to realize how many tin cans there are in the world. When it comes to half a million being sent out from just one factory, then you are prepared to open your eyes wide and do some thinking. One of the trying features of this business was, that it would persist in crowding itself into a few weeks of time, making everybody work day and night, as though work was all there could be of life, and then suddenly shut- ting down for a long winter, when the engine and the furnaces lay cold and still, and many of the busy workers found nothing to do. It I! 16 MISS LEE DUNMOBE BRYANT. was at this season of the year that Mrs. Bryant's ironing board came into service. For work as she would during the busy season to lay up for the winter, she found it a trying time. Harder tl an usual on this winter of which I write, because, in the very midst of the busiest season, Daisy herself had been taken sick, and lay very ill for days ; and her mother had promptly turned away from the drying com and wasting peaches, as though they were of the very smallest consequence, and hung over h'^r little daughter day and night, and "brought her through with good nursing, if ever a woman did," the doctor had said, as he drew on his gloves at that last visit. All this Daisy knew, as well as any of them, made this winter harder than any which had been since that one when the snow first fell on her father's grave. Ben had left school and gone into one of the stores as general errand boy, and some- times clerk. When Daisy asked him if he had left school "for good" he answered cheerily, "Why, of course, Daisilinda; I hope you did not think it was *for bad.'" Then he had whistled a little, to keep a troublesome lump from rising in his throat. THE FAMILY GATHERING. 17 Line, too, had loft school, and was doing the most of the work, that her mother might have all the more time for fine ironing. " It doesn't matter so much," Line had said cheerfully, to her mother. "You see we got so far behind, during the busy season, that we could not go on with our classes, anyway. And Ben and I mean to study every evening, and get ahead of the class by spring." And the mother had smiled and said, " I am blessed in my children." And they had all known that she cared very much. As for Daisy, she knew that Line cried once in a while, when she thought nobody saw her, and she knew that the doctor's bill was very long, so she thought a great deal during these days, and silently gave up some plans that she had hoped to begin to carry out. She was resolved that the others should not have all the sacrifice ; for was she not eight years old ? Among other schemes which she quietly gave up was that one of having a square of carpet, with a border to it, for the study. It had seemed to her that this would be beginning to be a little like Miss Sutherland's study. How much of a beginning it would have really been, j ir '\ 4 ^ % 18 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. you might perhaps realize more fully, could you take a careful look at the room which was Daisy's model. But Daisy realized fully that more carpet was quite out of the question this year. There had been another plan to have a motto for her study, and to have it by Thanksgiving morning. Not a lovely painted one like Miss Sutherland's, which had been very lately sent to her, and was one of the first things Daisy had seen the other day while she waited for the "change," but one worked on card-board, such as she had seen in the stores —^ such as she knew she could buy for ten cents, and the silks to work it for five cents more. "But where are the fifteen cents to come from?" Daisy asked herself with an exceedingly thoughtful face. The more she thought, the more sure she was that the motto would have to be given up. She did not know that any one understood her sacrifice; but there were more things un- derstood in that house than Daisy dreamed of. Just the evening before Thanksgiving the family were gathered in the study, mother sew* ing, as usual, Ben and Line studying, Daisy thinking. Suddenly she broke forth : "Mother, THE FAMILY GATHERING. 19 what are we going to be thankful for to- morrow?" " Thankful for ! " repeatotl the mother in a mildly astonished tone, while Ben looked up from his book and whistled softly, and Line laughed. But Daisy held her ground. " Why, yes; oughtn't we to think up things and be ready? It isn't as though we had a great many, you know." " I think we have a great many, and I think thinking them up is a very good idea," said Mrs. Bryant, as she sewed and smiled. The whole family were taken with the idea. Ben engaged to " do the example " in his note book, and the list began. "You give the first one, mother," Daisy said. " Well, in the first place we are all well, and all together." "Four healthy Bryants," wrote Ben with a flourish, only Daisy keeping her gravity the while. She was very much in earnest. "I'm thankful for this history," said Line, hugging her second-hand book; "I thought I should have to make one of my own, before I heard of this." And " One history old as the United States ^ii.^ I; 20 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. and good as nev^," went down on Ben^s list. For his first item he wrote "Fifty cents a week," explaining that it stood for his promo- tion in the store, by which he earned just so much more a week. As for Daisy, she said promptly, " A chicken most as big as a turkey." "It isn't because I want so much," she ex- plained with a flush on her cheek, " but I like it to be big, because it might almost be called a turkey; and I like the name turkey very much, for Thanksgiving." It was intensely interesting work ; more than one exclamation was made over the length of the list. "Mother," said Daisy, hesitating over her turn, " could you put down something that you hadn't got, and be thankful for that?" " Of course," said Ben, answering promptly. " Daisy Bryant hasn't the small-pox. Will that do?" " No, I don't mean that. I don't quite know how to tell what I do mean. But, mother, if you might have had a thing, and wouldn't buy it, because you thought it was right not to use the money for it, wouldn't it be a thing to be thankful for?" THE FAMILY OATIIERINO. 21 "It certainly would," said Mrs. Bryant de- cidedly. " A prudent mind, or an unselfish heart, is a great cause for gratitude." "Then, Ben, you may put down for me. Saved fifteen cents." Daisy drew a long sigh of relief, as though some important matter was settled. At this mother and older daughter exchanged glances. They knew that Daisy's own tin bank contained just fifteen cents, the sum of all her wealth, which had been accumulating for months and months. They knew just how she had been tempted to spend it, letting Sunday-school money and benevolences of all sorts, to say nothing of household needs, go to the winds. Ben knew about it, too ; and he leaned over and kissed his little sister squarely on the nose be- fore he made the record. But mother and older daughter also knew a delicious little secret, which made them smile at each other, although thero was something in the mother's eyes that glistened. Presently Ben gave a short, sharp whistle. " See here," he said, "how am I ever to get the sum of all these things? People, and books, and chicken, and house rent, all mixed up to- li 22 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. gctlicr. It is compound addition with a venge- ance I The things won't add I " " Suppose you let me do the summing up,** Mrs. Bryant said, and she took tTie note book, and wrote at the bottom of the page in her neat, plain fashion : — "ITow precious are thy thoughts unto me, O, God ! how great is the sum of thera I If I should count them they are more iu number than the sand." CHAPTER II. THB "DBLiaOUS SECRET. )t npHE way Mrs. Bryant and Line had come -^ to understand some of Daisy's wishes was in this fashion: Daisy, in one oi her thoughtful hours had asked, ** Mother, what does troth mean?" ** Troth!" repeated Ben, looking puzzled. ** Don't you mean trough ? " Daisy put down her head on her mother's arm to laugh, before she answered. She knew what trough meant, and felt sure her word was very different. ** Tell me how you have seen it used ? " said Mrs. Bryant, musing how best to explain the word to her eight-year-old daughter. M Why, in Miss Sutherland's study there is a motto hanging on the wall — a new one ; it was not there last week. And it says on it in lovely gold and brown letters, * Keep Troth.' " «3 aV ii / \\ i, \i I i L>4 A/ISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. "Oh!" said Mrs. Bryant. "Why, Daisy, suppose you and somebody you love very much had promised each other some dear and pleas- ant thing, and your friend to keep you always reminded of your promise, should buy or paint for you a motto with those words on it. If you understood the words, as often as you looked at them, they would say to you, 'Be faithful to your pledge.' " Daisy's eyes were shining. " Why, mother," slie said, " 1 think that Is lovely. Couldn't anybody think it was a motto from Jesus, to remind us of our promises to Him?" It was a very pleasant smile that Mrs. Bryant gave Daisy, then ; her little daughter certainly had some choice thoughts. "I think 'anybody' might," she said, "that is, if anybody thought of it." And she won- dered how many who used the word thought of Jesus, and the pledges he was willing to ex- change with them. Silence for a few minutes ; Ben had gone back to his arithmetic ; but he was still think- ing of the new word. Its meaning was cer- tainly very different from that of trough. THE ''DELICIOUS SECRET.'* 25 Presently Daisy, prefacing her words with a gentle little sigh which she often used, — "I think mottoes are lovely. They seera to belong to studies ; they fit them a great deal better than pictures, I think. They say things to you, you know. Well, so do pictures, some of them ; but I would just love to have a motto for our study. I could make a cardboard one if I had the cardboard; but they cost ten cents apiece ; and then, there's the silk." The sentence closed with another little sigh. That was the first the family heard of the motto, but not the last ; Daisy often spoke of it. She did not know she thought aloud so much ; she did not dream that her pitiful lit- tle sacrifice at last, of her dear plan, almost broke her mother's heart. Then Line went to thinking and planning ; and the mother helped, and Ben helped, and on Thanksgiving morning what did Daisy's astonished eyes behold when she entered the "study" but a motto in a lovely frame, hanging by a crimson cord, in just the right place on the wall ! Peace and Plenty were the words which smiled down on her ; but there was more to the motto than this. It was decorated with leaves 26 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. and flowers, and the centre piece was a figure which Daisy promptly named an angel, scatter- ing flowers, or fruits, or something, over the land. It is true the lettering on this centre piece spelled September, and the month was November. That word had been a trial to Line and Ben for a week ; they had discussed and abandoned various plans for covering it. But Daisy, after she had exulted over every pretty thing about it, had hinted that she plainly saw the trouble- some word, by saying " Peace and Plenty, those just exactly fit Thanksgiving, don't they? And how pretty that word September will be next fall I Because, you know, mottoes are for all the year round." At which both Line and Ben had laughed, as they kissed her ; and Ben said she ought to be named Sunshine instead of Daisy. Where did the motto come from ? Why, it was cut out of an old magazine that a boy in the store had given to Ben, and pasted on the cover of an old box, and covered neatly by Line with some white satin paper given her at the paper factory, and banded with gilt strips which came from the same place, As for the, THE "DELICIOUS SECRET.'' 27 crimson cord, Mrs. Bryant had produced it from a packed-away box of long-ago treasures. " It used to belong to an old picture that has faded out now," she said with a smile which played around lips that quivered. And Line and Ben handled the cord tenderly, and spoke low for the next few minutes. But what a joy that motto was to Daisy ! " It is so true ! " she said, dancing about it gleefully, that Thanksgiving morning. "We are just as peaceful as we can be ; not a bit of trouble anywhere, have we, mother ? And as for plenty — you know the chicken is very big, and you know there are to be mashed potatoes, and baked sweet apples and milk, and the chicken is to be stufEed, just like a turkey. I'm sure the motto fits." In fact, I don't suppose you can understand what the surprise was to Daisy, unless you love beauty as well as she did, and have as few things with which to gratify the taste. Moreover, the motto had a mission ; it was suggestive. The walls of the little cottage were not lathed and plastered ; were not even painted; their weather-stained unsightliness had been among Daisy's trials. On that very 1 1 28 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, afternoon, when the work was all done, the kitchen in exquisite order and deserted, and the family were gathered at leisure in the study, Mrs. Bryant having promised not to sew a stitch, because it was Thanksgiving, Daisy, gazing at the beloved motto, exclaimed, — "Mother, O, mother! why couldn't we cover the walls with pictures?" Mrs. Bryant laughed. " You dear little dreamer," she said, " where do you suppose the pictures are to come from, and how much paste and time do you suppose it would take ?" " Oh ! but I don't mean all at once. Be a long, long time, you know ; and take just a tiny teaspoonful of flour at a time ; we could afford that, couldn't we? When we found a real pretty picture anywhere, paste it up in a nice place, and in a g-r-e-a-t many months the walls would be covered." It was impossible not to laugh at the bright face and dancing eyes, and there was something so funny about it to Line and Ben, that they laughed loud and long. Mrs. Bryant was the first to recover voice. " It is a pretty thought," she said, " and I will certainly try to furnish the spoonful of floor THE '^ DELICIOUS SECRET.** 29 for my share ; but we have almost no chances for pictures, darling, and I'm afraid you will be old and gray before the walls are covered." " Well," said Daisy cheerily, " then I will put on my spectacles and sit down and enjoy them." But Daisy's ideas were not generally allowed to drop; she kept eagerly at hers until the others absorbed a little of her enthusiasm ; and Mrs. Bryant confessed that she had a picture laid away in a box which she had kept for a long time. The box was brought out, and its contents turned over and enjoyed ; it was a queer col- lection of old half -worn treasures — a shoe that belonged to the baby who died, the tiny waist of the first dress Line ever wore, a queer little tintype of Daisy herself, when she was a wee baby ; in it she had many fingers, because she would wiggle them. But the picture on which Daisy's fingers im- mediately pounced, was one of a mother bend- ing over an old-fashioned cradle in which lay a sleeping baby; while outside in the dooryard and in the distance, away up the hillside, many sheep and lambs were resting on the grass, or frisking about in the sunshine. M- u m\ mi^ • I. m ■ t 80 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. m " What a lovely, lovely picture," Daisy said. *' How very pretty it would be for Christmas. If we could only get it framed and hung by Christmas time, woulcI.:'t it be splendid? We couldn't have it so nice as my beautiful Peace and Plenty picture, of course ; but couldn't we make some kind of a frame, don't you think? There's the baby and the sheep ; and there's one shepherd. It just fits. ' While shepherds watched their flocks by night, All seated on the ground/ you know ; only He didn't have such a cradle, did He, mother ? because you know it says, — ' For his cradle was a manger, And his softest bed was hay.' Don't you believe. Line, we could fix it up ? " Subjects were very much mixed in our little Daisy's mind ; but she knew exactly what she meant ; so did her listeners ; she was so eager and happy and resolute, that it was impossible not to enter into the spirit of l;he matter with her, and before the family went to I sd on that Thanksgiving night, a wonderful frame had THE ''DELICIOUS SECRET:* 81 been planned, and the place selected for the Christmas picture to hang. But though Daisy Bryant's heart was so set on furnishing a study, she thought of other things beside books. Never a little girl of eight who loved her dollie better t'iian Daisy did her Arabella Aurelia. Much of her think- ing was done with this treasure in her arms, and between the pauses of her wisest remarks, she frequently bent over and kissed her darling. You would like me to stop just here and de- scribe that doll baby. " Was it china, or wax, or just common cloth?" That is one of the questions you know you want answered. Very well, I will tell you. It was neither cloth, nor china, nor yet wax, but just plain wood. A wooden dollie ! You never heard of such a thing ! " How could its nose and eyes and ears be made? "Were they carved or only painted?" Alas, I shall have to admit the sorrowful fact; it had no eyes, nor ears, nor nose, nor even mouth ; though I'm afraid it would have grieved its little mother to the heart to have had these defects talked about. The truth was, .■ :!l , ' ! m 82 MTss dkf: dunmoue buy ant. that Arabella Aurelia was once the arm of that large old-fashioned rocker which I told you had become Mrs. Bryant's sewing chair ! She wore, for every day, a neat dark calico apron of Mrs. Bryant's ; and on full-dress occasions a ruffled white dress which had been Daisy's own until time had worn it into shabbiness, besides making it too short and too narrow for Daisy ; but Ara- bella Aurelia was very thin, so the worn places in the waist folded in out of sight, and not having any arms of her own, the fact that there were no sleeves left to the dress, did not tiouble her at all ; she really looked very nicely in it. Daisy loved her much, as I said, and kissed her often, but it became evident in the course of time that she had many thoughts about her. For instance, one evening, when the child lay flat on her lap, and she was regarding it gravely, she said, " Mother, if I had a really truly baby, what do you suppose I'd name it?" " What do you mean, Daisy — a little sister or brother ? " " O no ! I mean a doll baby ; but a really one." " Why, I don't know ; you would name it Arabella Aurelia after this one, wouldn't you? n THE ''DELICIOUS SECBET," 88 Daisy shook her head emphatically. "O no, mother ! I never should. I wouldn't like those names for a truly dolliii. Why, you know " — she began again after a thoughtful pause, during which time she seemed to be trying to put into shape some ideas which puzzled her — " I don't know that I can explain it ; but of course this is not a really doll baby ; she nasn't any eyes, nor mouth, and I have to make believe about her all the time." Daisy sank hci- voice almost to a whisper, apparently "making be- lieve " that Arabella Aurelia could hear, and not wishing to hurt her feelings. " But if I had a real doll with all those things " — which term covered the accidents of eyes, mouth and other features — " why, I wouldn't name her such a sort of make-believe name. You know, mother, you wouldn't like to name your own daughter Arabella Aurelia, now would you?" " I don't believe I should," said Mrs. Bryant, laughing, although there did seem something pitiful in the fact that the wooden dollie, be- loved though she was, had after all so little genuineness about her, even to Daisy's imagin- ation. " Well," said Daisy, with a quickly-smothered I:: nf i' < I ' i i» i* fl m 84 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. sigh, " that is just the way I feel ; if I had a truly dollie I should want her named Mary or Caroline or Sara, or some name which belongs." Whereupon she caught up Arabella Aurelia and covered her wooden face with kisses. " Wasn't that just too pitiful for anything,*' Line said, after Daisy was sound asleep for the night, " to hear that mouse go on about that old wooden arm ? Mother, I do wish we could get Daisy a truly dollie for Christmas." Mrs. Bryant sighed and sewed and shook her head. " We might make a body," she said, " if we could get a pattern ; and we could make a suit of clothes for it at odd minutes, but I'm afraid we can't manage the head this year, Line ; it is going to be close work, you know." Yes, Line knew it ; and Ben knew it. He looked at the patches on his shoes, and at the place where more patches were needed, and shook his head and said nothing. He needed new shoes ; but at that minute, he felt willing to wear patched ones forever, if he could only get a truly dollie for Daisy. The little girl hugged her wooden one close, and kissed it more rapturously, if possible, than ever, but put no more of her thoughts about it THE ''-DELICIOUS SECRET » 86 into words intended for the family. Yet what was in her he.irt found occasional vent in words murmured to Arabella Aurelia. " You are a dear good dollie, if you are made of wood," she sometimes said between tender kisses. "You never cry, and you never pull my hair, like some babies ; to be sure you can't, because you have no arms nor mouth ; but then 1 don*t be- lieve you would if you could." . One morning she came from Miss Suther- land's with a package of soiled linen wrapped in a half-sheet of newspaper. Having disposed of the contents, she retired with her newspaper to the study, whither she always went to read, no matter what )iour of the day it was. Here she sat long, reading at first, then, with hands folded in her laj>, eyes on the floor, think- ing. Mrs. Bryant, who was hurrying about pre[)aring to take her collars and cuffs from their foamy bath, glanced at her occasionally, and wondered what was being planned. Presently came the earnest little voice, which very often had a wistful note in it that went to the mother's heart, — "Mother, do you suppose anybody wonld want to name a dollie after me ? '* 1. .!} .< ' 36 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, "I should think almost anybody might be glad to," Mrs. Bryant said, looking at the neat little figure in dark-blue calico, with a ruffle at her tiiroat. " My whole name, Daisy Isabelle Biyant ? " "Why not?" " Well, but it might not go well with her last name — the doUie's mother's name, you know." " And then again it might," said Mrs. Bryant, smiling now, in spite of her efforts to carry on her part of the conversation with becoming gravity. " What has put that idea into your mind?" "Why, I was thinking that it was almost Christmas time, and there would be a great many new dollies, and a great many names would have to be found for them, and I was thinking what if some very nice little girl should have a lovely dollie and name her after me, it would be almost like me having one." The sentence ended with a patient little sigh ; it was some minutes before Mrs. Bryant could make any answer ; then she said, " That is a very nice thought, and as people generally make presents to their namesakes, perhaps during the winter you could make some pretty little thing THE ''DELICIOUS SECRET." 87 for her to wear. For instance, I have some- thing which I think would make her a hat. Do you know any little girls who are going to have new dollies?" Daisy^s eyes had danced as she listened, but over this question she grew grave. " Yes'ra," she said, " but I don't mean any of them. I should like my namesake to live in a house where there was a piano, and a room made of glass, all for flowers, and a study ; not like ours, you know, but a truly one. Well, ours is truly, what there is of it, because we do have books " — she looked approvingly at the Bible, arithmetic and history — " and we study there ; but I mean a real large study, with rows and lows of books, and maps and history pict- ures, and — O, mother! you know just what I mean, don't you ? It seems as though I must have my namesake live in such a house as that." " But you don't know any little girls who live in such houses, darling." " No, ma'am ; I wasn't thinking of any little girls whom I know. In this j^aper I brought home there are ever so many letters from girls and boys, some of them younger than I am ; they write to the editor of the paper and ask P i i:.. ■ili m ^fTSS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. questions, and tell things. I was wondering if I couldn't write to him and ask him to speak about it to the little girls who take his paper." Now Daisy's writing was much crookeder than her thoughts generally were. Truth to tell, she did not like to write very well ; the process was so much slower than thinking, and the lines were so determined to be crooked, that by the time the third one from the copy was written, it looked like this : — As for Daisy, by the time the writing-lesson was done, she looked utterly discouraged. Her mother had often wished that her little girl had some correspondent, that she might become in- terested in letter writing; but she had not expected any scheme like this. THE '* DELICIOUS SECllETr 39 There were many diflSculties in the way, and Daisy was particular as to the style of paper to be used ; but she was, as usual, persevering ; in the course of two or three days there was written, signed and sealed, the following letter : Dbar Mr. Editor: I am a littls girl eight years old. My hair is brown; so are my eyes. I have no dollie, only a wooden arm to the old rock- ing chair; it broke off and couldn't be mended, so we made a dollie of it. She is very nice ; I love her dearly, but of course she has no mouth, nor eyes, nor anything of that kind. Her name is Arabella Aureiia; she had to be named kind of queerly, on account of being queer herself. But what I wanted to write to you about is to know if you would ask the little girls who take your paper, if they would not be so kind — only one of them, of course — as to name a new Christmas dollie after me; my name is Daisy Isabelle Bryant. I think that would be a pretty name for a dullie, only perhaps rather long, unless the last name was quite short; I suppose the Isabelle might be left out, and have only Daisy Bryant, only I like Isabelle very much. I would have named Arabella Aureiia after me, but I couldn't quite like to, on ac- count of her not having eyes nor arms. I don't expect to have a new dollie myself ever, because there are a great many things to get first, and by the time they are all got, I suppose I shall be too old for dolls; so I thought I would ask this favor of your little girls. If it can be done, just as well as not, I would like my namesake to live in a house which has a study, where they keep a great many books; because I like books myself, and we have a beginning of a study ourselves in the front part of mother's kitchen, only it has but three books in it yet; our books were burned in the fire, but I am very fond of them, and I mean to >ave rows and rows of them some day ; so I thought I'd like to have my namesake grow up among them. Mother thinks you probably won't print this letter, because, 1 il:: 40 -VASS J)Ei: T)JTNMORE BRYAJ^T. in the first place, we don't take your paper, and in the second place it is too long. I mean the letter is, you know, but I couldn't make it any shorti-r, and tell you the things you need to know, could I? And we don't take any paper at all since my father died; so if you will just please tell the little girls about it, ma\'be some of them will; and I thank you very much indeed. I am your true friend, Daisy Isabet.le Bryant. Over this letter there were many family coun- cils, and, on the part of Lit -^ and Ben, more or less objections ; but Mrs. Bryant was disposed to let her little girl have her own way in the matter. So at last the letter was addressed and stamped and dropped in the post-box. " That is the last you'll ever hear of that," said 8kej)tical Ben. " Oh ! I don't know," said faithful Daisy. " I can think about a dollie who is perhaps my namesake ; and when I'm a grown ip woman, I may meet her. I should love he- all tbe same, even if it didn't happen until I v a twenty years old." CHAPTER III. *' aeen't things queer ? " rriHE study in which Judge Dunmore sat -*- reading, would certainly have satisfied Daisy Bryant's book-loving heart. Rows and rows and rows of books ! In open book-cases and in closed book-cases ; reaching to the ceil- ing and reaching to the floor. Then t'uere was an elegant study table, and a wide old- fashioned lounge, with cushiony arms, where little Dee Dunmore often curled herself for an afternoon nap. Oh ! it was a delightful room. On the evening of which I write the family were gathered in it, and work was going on which would have relieved Daisy's mind. Mrs. Dunmore had her sewing, and Miss Edith was crocheting a new style of fascinator. Certainly if sewing and crocheting could venture into this study, Daisy need worry no more about her mother's work-basket. 41 I ill m 42 MISS DEE DTTNMORE BRYANT. At a side table under a drop-light, the only student the room now contained, a young fel- low of perhaps fourteen or fifteen, bent over his Latin grammar. Little Miss Dee sat almost in the centre of the room, caressing a new doUie. It still lacked nearly a week of Christmas, but the dollie had arrived by express from an auntie in Paris, and of course could not be left packed all that time. Judge Dunmore was reading the evening paper. Presently he looked up, and sent his eyes in search of Dee. " Is that dollie named yet, daughter? '* "No, sir. We can't decide on a name. Edith wants her to be named Dee, after me ; but I don't quite want two Dee Dunmores in the same family. Edith wants it because she likes litter" — a pause, and a slightly added flush on her cheeks over the unusual word ; then the little woman went boldly on — "litter- shun." A shout of laughter followed, but Mrs. Dunmore made haste to say, "Alliteration, dear ; you had it right, all but the beginning, and a little letter in the middle." " Well, here is a chance for you, * littershun,' "AREN'T THINGS QUEER f'' 43 and all. My son, will you excuse the interrup- tion while I read aloud a short letter?" Whereupon he read Daisy Bryant's letter to the editor quite through. Something was the matter with his glasses by the time he had finished. He took them off and gave them a vigorous rubbing. " Poor little thing ! " said Mrs. Dunmore ; and her voice trembled. " It is a lovely name," Edith said. " Daisy Isabelle Bryant. Dee, that's the very name for your dollie — * Daisy Isabelle Bryant Dunmore.' Nothing could be more elegant. If I were you, I would write to her at once, and tell her all about the dollie and describe the study ; the number of books would suit her, I think." "I shouldn't wonder if she would make a good little correspondent," Judge Dunmore said. " The editor has given us a fac-simile of her letter. The writing is rather crooked, but the spelling is perfectly correct, and the ideas are certainly well expressed." " It is very pathetic, I think,'* said Mrs. Dun- more. Amid all this talk Dee sat with her arms ciasped tightly around her dollie, her eyes meantime looking into space. Dee was doing m « ,; t ■ I -J |V,*3 m wmmmmmmtm 44 MISS DEE hVNMOUE BUY ANT. 11 some very grave thinking on her own account. Suddenly she burst forth : — " That child ought to have a new dollie of her own. The idea of her having nothing but an old wooden arm of a chair to love and kiss and put to bed ! O, dear me ! Papa, couldn't we send her a dollie for Christmas ? " "I really don't know, daughter. Could we? How much are you willing to give toward it ? " This was bringing philanthropy down to a fine point. Miss Dee had her own small purse, and was required to supply herself with certain cheap necessaries, such as lead-pencils, pens, pins, and the like, and was rigidly held to cash accounts and monthly settlements. She looked very sober over her father's question ; her mother tried to relieve her anxiety. " A neat little dollie such as the child would consider a treasure, would cost but a trifle. A dollar ought to buy one." A quick, resolute shake of the head came from Dee. " Oh I no, mamma ; if you please, I shouldn't like that at all ; my dollie is so lovely, I wouldn't want to have such a great difference between them ; a little girl who could plan about a study and all those things, would know what "AREN'T THINGS QUEER f' 45 a truly nice dollie was. Don't you think so?" "Oh! I haven't a doubt of it; but could you afford ai^ expensive dollie just now, dear ? " Pee looked troubled again. " Why, I could help," she said. " It is so nea^ to Christmas- time that 1 am rather poor, but I think — wouldn't you help buy it, dear mamma? It is benevolence, you know." " How can you prove that. Dee ? " It was the Judge who spoke now. " A dollie is a sort of luxury, you see ; and to give luxuries to the poor, is not benevolence, is it?" " Oh ! no, indeed, papa : a dollie is net a lux- ury, it is a necessity ; that is, in houses where there are no real babies ; of course I would rather have a little brother or sister a hundred times ; but I haven't, you know, and this Daisy hasn't, of course, or she would say so; and, papa, a little girl couldn't go to sleep without a dollie ; she couldn't, really. And besides, mamma says my dollie helps me to learn to sew, and to care for clothing, and plan what is needed in different seasons. It helps you in a good many ways, doesn't it, mamma ? " Judge Dunmore laughed. " Very well argued," 46 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. he said. " You have won your case ; as soon as I learn what your desires are, and how much you propose t,o give towards it yourself, I will add my contribution." "Well, papa, you know I said I was poor, and I cannot do much ; but there is a lovely dollie in Mrs. Stroator's store, and she is good, Mrs. Streator is. I think she will let us have it for what it cost her. She told me it cost her five dollars. That would be just the same as her giving something towards it, you know. I have only twenty-five cents, though, of my own to give, and that's dreadful little. Do you think we could raise five dollars, papa ? " " Try it," said Judge Dunmore. " Let us see how good an operator you are. I will give one dollar towards it." " O papa ! that's a nice beginning. Mamma, how much will you help ? " "Aren't papa and I one?" Mrs. Dunmore asked, smiling. Dee was ready with her answer: "If you are, mamma, you ought to do exa(itly what papa does, I should think." There was a sound of clapping of hands from the Judge's corner, and amid much laughing, ''AREN'T THINGS QUEER f" 47 Mrs. Dunmore declared this logic was over- powering, and she might be counted on for a dollar. Then Edith and the young student were assailed, and after some bantering agreed to give fifty cents each. ** It is gettuig on beautifully," Dee said. Her doll laid flat on the floor, while her mistress counted her chubby fingers to make sure of the result. "I know we shall get it all, but I'm sorry my part is so small. I wanted to ask her to name her dollie for me, and I don't like to give only twenty-five cents." " I could put you in the way of making it a dollar, if you chose," said Mrs. Dunmore quietly. " O, mamma ! how ? Wouldn't that be just lovely?" "The difference between the buttons you chose for your suit, and the ones I said would answer is just seventy-five cents." Dee looked grave and business-like. "But that wouldn't be my money, mamma?" " Oh ! you may do what you please with the seventy-five cents. I gave you permission to select the buttons, and you have done so. If w .1 IMlj ■ 46 MISS DEE DUN MOPE IIJIYANT. you choose now to take cheaper ones, the money thus savetl becomes yours." Dee clasped and unclasped her hands thought- fully. " Mam ran, those buttons were very ugly. They didn't shine a bit." " They were not so pretty as the more ex- pensive ones, of course ; but they are neat and appropriate." Silence and perplexity on the part of one ; then a long-drawn sigh, as she stooped to pick up her dollie. " I hate dull buttons, and I don't believe I ever quite like things that are only appropriate. If I hadn't bought that blue satin cushion, and that queer-shaped little box which broke as soon as I got home, I needn't do it, but I'm going to. You can order the dull buttons, mamma, and give me the seventy-five cents. But won't I be the only one who has made a sacrifice ? " " No, indeed," declared Miss Edith. " It was a very great sacrifice for me to give fifty cents. I had at least fifty ways of spending it, and as for Max, he is always poor, aren't yon, Max ? " " I am," said the student, " but I am a great admirer of Daisy Isabelle Bryant." '■ ''AREN'T TUINGS QUEEB >> 49 " Besides," said the motlier, " you ought to be the one to sacrifice, if it is to be done ; this is your scheme, you know. But what about the other dollar?" " I can get that easy enough," said Dee, nod- ding her head in an assured way. " The/e's Grandma. I don't feel the least bit in the world afi-aid but that she'll give it. Now, if Mrs. Streator will do her part we are all right. I'm going to name my dollie after her. I'll write and tell her so ; and I mean to ask hor to write letters to me ; may I, papa ? " " I don't know, daughter. Mrs. Streator seems to me a strange name to call a doll ; and I should think you would prefer conversing with her rather than correspondence." " Oh ! why, papa, papa ! Don't you know I mean the little girl ? " " You didn't say so, my dear. Now, I have a little plan, if yours is arranged to your mind. It is easy to read between the lines in that little girl's letter, though she didn't intend it. There are other than doll's wardrobes needed there, I imagine. What if we should put the dollie in Mrs. Streator's window, dressed ready for traveling, hang a purse on her arm, and pin the w 60 MISS DEE DVNMORE BRYANT. little girl's letter to her dress, to tell its story ? Wouldn't that be suggestive enough, mamma ? " Mrs. Dunmore agreed that it would certainly be very suggestive, and expressed her willing- ness to put some money in the purse. As for Dee, she went into a perfect ecstasy of «lo]ight, half-smothering her papa with kisses, us a rewunl for his beautiful thought. Bciii<^ an energetic little woman, she lost no time, antl by eleven o'clock of the following nn)i iiing, both Grandmr nd Mrs. Streator hav- ing been found graci' he extra dollar was secured, the dollie bought, and stood in a conspicuous centre of Mrs. Streator*8 show- window. That she was a lovely dollie, dressed in the perfection of modern style, no one could gainsay. Her elegant hat was a contribution from Miss Edith Dunmore, who stayed from the morning concert at Corning Hall to get it ready for my lady's first appearance. Truth com- pels me to tell that she found the feather in a box of castaway finery which had been made ready for the rag man, but when it was steamed, and curled with a dull-edged knife, it really looked elegant. Moreover, Miss Edith, getting deeper "ABEIPT THINGS QUEER f" 61 and deeper into the spirit of the thing, sum- moned her young friends with their castaway boxes that very afternoon, and out of bits of ribbon and velvet and lace and silk and skill manufactured such a toilet as any fashionable young lady, the size of thi^ one, might admire. Meantime, in the show-window, Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant did her pretty work. When Judge Dunmore called, he selected a strong and pretty purse, and had it fastened to the ribbons of her jacket, and a streamer of white ribbon was attached to her hat, on which was printed : "STOP AND READ MY STORY." In her hand was placed Daisy Bryant's printed letter with a few added lines of ex- planation, which the Judge himself had written. It was pretty to see how interested the people were in that show-window. It seemed as though almost everybody who came that way paused, smiling at the lovely face and curious streamer, read, smiled again, stepped inside, and gently took from her pretty kid hand, the ** story," read it, asked questions of Mrs. Strea- n mi JM Mi' I /ft 62 MISS DEE BUN MORE BRYANT. tor, then, still smiling, though some of them had almost tears in their eyes, dropped their offering into the puvse and went their way. No, I am wrong ; some of them lingered for more than that. They found Mrs. Streator polite and attentive. They found she had many useful and pretty things for sale, and sold them at reasonable prices ; some of theuL discovered that she was a widow ; that she was bravely trying to support herself and three children by means of this neat and well-kept store; that she belonged to the same church with themselves, and that, though they had never thought of it before, she certainly ought to have some of their patronage. " That was a good thought of yours, my dear," said Mrs. Streator to Dee when, on the evening of that first eventful day, she called to see how her namesake was prospering. "I hope you will have more like it come into your pretty head. I don't know how much money has been dropped into the purse, but I know I have had to empty it three times into that strons: locked box on the shelf there to make room for more. And I know I never sold so piany things in one day before. People come ''AREN'T THINGS QUUEBf' 53 in to see Miss Dollie, and see Gomethlng that they like, and buy it ; people who have never been inside my store before, Miss Dee ; and more than that, some of them promise to be good customers of mine after this. I can well SL&ord to let you have the dollie for just what I paid fcr it ; and Fll add some things to the box she travels in, see if I don't. I laid awake nights bemoaning my folly in buying so expen- sive a dollie for my modest little store, and told myself a dozen times a niglit that I would never get my money back ; and here it is the most useful person who ever looked out of my store window ! I'll not forget the little lady, nor the one who named her." " It is papa's thought, Mrs. Streator," said truthful Dee. " I thought about buying the dollie, but I never could have planned anything so nice as sending a present with her. Papa did every bit of that. He is a lawyer, you know ; and lawyers always think of things." To her mother Dee said : " Aren't things queer, mamma ? You can't do the least little bit of good to anybody without doing good to a lot of other people. There's our c'ollie and Mrs. Streator ; she says this is going to make her a ? 'i n,i 64 MISS DEE DVNMOBE BRYANT. happy New Year, because it will make her square with the Old Year. She means she will not be in debt; mamma, I didn't understand about * being square,' so I asked her. And Grandma says giving that dollar for the dollie made her think about those things she has had laid away so long to give to somebody, and she sent a bundle to old Mrs. Barnes this very day ; and papa says when ho looked at her little pink-and- white face — the dollie's, I mean — it made him think of that little bit of a girl who lives over the wagon shop, anc? he sent her father a cart- ful of things for Christmas, because he is sick, you know, and can't earn them. Aren't things real mixed up and queer ? " "No man liveth to himself," quoted the Judge, who was in the library and overheard the talk. " That is what the little one means, though she doesn't know how to express it.' »» CHAPTER IV. DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. "TN Mrs. Bryant's kitchen everything was in -*- beautiful order, though it was still quite early. The household had been astir since long before daylight, Daisy finding it impossi- ble to sleep, and her mother silently determin- ing that a quart of oil should be sacrificed, if necessary, so that her little daughter might have the full benefit of the Christmas day. It was a household in which kerosene oil, as well as everything else, was used most econom- ically; but Christmas came but once a year, and Daisy would never be just eight years old again, so the lamp was lighted before six o'clock. The excitement of examining the stocking that hung all alone by the chimney corner, was well over, and an intense excitement it had been. Almost everything in it had been a surprise to the little girl. Some of the things would 55 jt'l 66 MISS DEE DirNMORl£ BUY ANT. not go into the stocking at all, but hung in delightfully bulgy and mysterious packages, outside, with a cord attached to them, and pinned to the red stocking. For instance, Ben had, with a little help from the friendly car- penter around the corner, made for her the most complete little set of book-shelves that Daisy had ever seen. She felt certain there were none nicer in the world ; and she may be sure that none were ever made with more painstaking care. Three shelves, beautifully smooth, and stained to look like the solid black walnut of Miss Sutherland's book-cases. They were already hung, the three books placed upon them, and continually Daisy's eyes roved to that choice corner, and her heart gave strong little beats of happiness. Over the "book- case," as Daisy assured them the shelves must be called, were hanging the Christmas pictures in their gay frames. On the upper shelf were arranged with great care certain smaller treas- ures from the stocking ; a pretty heart-shaped pincushion from mother, stuck full of pins of different sizes ; a neat little box, covered with gay pictures, and lined with pink cloth to make it strong enough for the three spools and the DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT, 57 speck of .1 needle-book, with five needles placed in sliiiiiiig rows on the bit of fine notched flannel inside. There had been intense excitement over that box ; for, in addition to the spools, and the needle-book, gifts from mother, there had gleamed before Daisy's astonished eyes a real truly silver thimble, of jnst the right size for her small finger. Miss Sutherland had called one morning with some collars and cuffs that she was in haste to have laundried, and had found Mrs. Bryant busy lining the box, taking advantage of Daisy's having been sent down town on errands. Miss Sutherland had admired the pink lining, and the bright pictures, and had asked several questions ; and the night before Ghristraas had come this bit of a thimble, to- gether with a box of choice grapes for Line, and a basket of apples for Ben. But the crowning delight of Daisy's heart had been the united gift of mother. Line and Ben. This was nothing less wonderful than a bright patch-work curtain, some of the patches of silk, and some of soft bright wools ; and being hung on a strong red cord that Ben had bought with the last cent he had in the world, ■ I 1|' ill til M mSS DEE DVNMORE BRYANT. it was long enough and wide enough to curtain off the study ; so that, on occasion, it could be entirely separated from the kitchen. Could anything ever be nicer than that ? It was hard for Daisy to believe that she could ever be happier or more grateful than she was this morning. Truth to tell, I don't suppose she ever will be. With all these wonders to admire and talk over — for to each belonged half a dozen sepa- rate stories — it had been hard work to eat any breakfast, though they had bread cakes and syrup, as well as baked potatoes. " We'll be downright extravagant for once," said Line, " and have cakes, and baked potatoes, and apple sauce; and we are going to have a chicken again for dinner, larger than the one we had on Thanksgiving Day, I do believe. I tell you what, Daisy Bryant, it isn't every little girl who has such a time made over her being eight years old." Daisy fully believed this, and was happy. Now, at ten o'clock, with the kitchen in per- fect order, with the delicious smell of roasting chicken already in the air, with the curtain drawn before the lovely little study, Daisy sat DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. 59 in her own low chair, lier wooden dollie on her lap, and looked about her with satisfied smiles on her face. " Are you perfectly contented ? " her mother asked, smiling on her, as she stopped on her way to the oven door to peep into the study and see what was going on. "Yes'm, or — well, no, ma'am, not quite," said Daisy, with a little shamefaced laugh. " I did think that maybe there would some little girl write me a Christmas letter to tell me that she had named her dollie for me ; but Ben went to the office, you know, when he took the apple- basket home, and there wasn't anything." " Perhaps it will come to-morrow," said her mother soothingly, " or to-night ; but I wouldn't expect it toD much, if I were you. This is a very busy world, and little girls don't write many letters. I think it more than likely that the little girl who named her new dollie for you, meant to write and tell you all about it, but she will keep putting it off, until by and by she will think it is too late." " Then you think there is a dollie named for me ? " said Daisy, with a bright face. "Oh I I haven't a doubt of it," said Mrs. «:l J 4 m i M ■1 m AflSH DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. w Bryant, as she went in some haste to «v ard the stove, for the apple sauce was sputtering as though it meant to boil over in less than another minute. • . •- It was just then that Daisy heard an empha- tic knock at tlie back door. She sat still and listened, for her mother's quick step moved to- ward tlie door. Then she heard the follow- ing remarkable conversation : " Good-morning, ma'am ! Have you a party stopping with you by the name of Dee Dunmore Bryant ? " " Dee Dunmore Bryant ! " repeated Mrs. Bryant wonderingly, " no ; I don't know that name at all ; there is no one stopping here but my own family." * " Well, this trunk is sent to your care, or to little Miss Daisy's. The card reads plainly enough ; in fact, it's print : ' Miss Dee Dun- more Bryant, care of Miss Daisy Isabelle Bryant.' I kind of thought I'd like to see Miss ' Dee Dunmore,' if she was here, for judging from this trunk, I thought she must be about the size of my thumb." With a broad smile on his face, the village expressman stepped forward and landed in the middle of the little kitchen a trunk about two feet long, one foot wide, and i "a swbbt-pacbd little girl," TTwrJ DEE DUNMOItE BRYANT. perhaps a little more than a foot high ; a per- fect trunk, studded with brass nails, and locked and strapped in the most business-like manner. " Came by express, ma'am," said the man, his face seeming to grow broader while he looked first at Mrs. Bryant, then at the trunk. "I only hope * Miss Dee Dunmore ' isn't done up inside of it ; for it is a well-made little thing, and there wouldn't be much chance for air inside." By this time Daisy was in the kitchen, her eyes very large. There was certainly her name in neat print on the end of the dear little trunk. But who in the world was Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant, and how should they find her and let her know that they had her trunk ? This was the question which troubled the Bryant house- hold for some time. The expressman, who was a friend of Ben's, and who liked to do a good turn for his friends, went away laughing, declaring that there was nothing to pay ; or at least if there was, he would wait until Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant put in an appearance before he presented his bill ; for if she could get all her furbelows into a trunk of that size he would like mighty well to see her. 1 ^ 1* < 64 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, "I would open the thing," declared Ben, when ho had come homo and walked around it, and lifted it on hia shoulder to try its weight, and wondered and studied as much as the others. "It is sent to Daisy's care, and it's our own name, and she doesn't know how to take care of it without knowing what is inside. Halloo ! Look here. Tucked under this strap is the mite of a key, tied on with a cord ! They mean you shall open it, and take care of the things ; they may be flowers, or something that will spoil. Wouldn't you open it, mother ? " " I believe I would," said Mrs. Bryant, who began to have a theory of her own, to the effect that Miss Dee Dunmore might really be inside ; but she kept her own counsel, and looked on, while Ben, with nervous haste, unstrapped the wee trunk, and Daisy, her fingers trembling so that she could hardly do it, turned the key and threw up the lid. A complete trunk inside as well as out. Fitted up in compartments, hat- box, shoe-box, toilet-box, everything complete, all carefully closed and fastened down. On the very top, however, was a letter addressed in a round hand to Miss Daisy Isabelle Bryant I " Hurrah I " said Ben. " Here is a letter for LEE VUNMORE BUY ANT. AS you, Daisalinda ; now we will understand this mystery." " Shut down the lid of the trunk," said her thoughtful and far-seeing mother, " and let Daisy read the letter before we go any farther ; then if it is her duty to unpack the trunk, she can have the pleasure of doing it herself." So Daisy broke the seal and read aloud : — m 4' n :V sr My dear friend, Daisy Isabbllr Bryant: ["Mother, who can it be from? I have no friend to write to me." " I don't know, dear; perhaps it is some one who has writ- ten in answer to the letter you sent to the paper." " Read on," said Line, " then you will find out who it is." " Yes, hurry up ! " said Ben. '* We can't stand such sus- pense as this very long." As he spoke, his eyes danced with pleasure; he had caught a gleam of his mother's thought. What a thing it would be if somebody had really sent Daisy a dollie! And Daisy read:] I am Dee Dunmore [exclamations of astonishment and pleasure from the listeners], a little girl pretty near nine years old ; at least I was eight almost three months ago. Papa read your letter in the paper aloud to us, and as I had a new dollie come from Paris only a few weeks ago, and she hadn't any name, I named her for you right away ; she is lovely ; I have sent you her picture, so you can see for yourself. I sent mine, too, because I had none of dollie without me, and besides, I thought maybe you might like to see me, too. I am going to be your friend, you know; and to write letters to you if j'ou will answer them. I don't write xery well yet, but I am learning. Then I thought it was kind of lonesome to have onlj' a dollie who had no mouth, nor eyes, nor any of those things; I don't mean that she isn't nice, and I know you love I", i: \\\ V n 66 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. her, because sometimes maxnma rol's up a pillow for me for a dollite; and I find I love it very much; but then I couldn't get along with only that kind of a dollie, and I thought I ought to have a namesake, too ; so we made up our minds to send you one named after roe, and she is in the trunk, and we hope you will like her. [" 0, mother! " said Daisy, stopping for breath, and almost ready to cry, in her surprise and delight, "O, mother! do you think there is a real truly doUie for me in •this trunk? " " I begin to think so," said Mrs. Bryant, and she tamed away just then to look at the chicken in the oven, and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. ** Go ahead," said Ben, and Daisy read:] Mamma helped, and papa, and grandma, and all of them; Mrs. Streator did, too; so it is a present from all of us; sister Edith and her friend made the clothes, and I really think the hat is lovely. The plume is a piece of one that my auntie sent from Paris. The purse on her arm is not Dee's, but yours ; papa sent it with his love ; and he says the things in it are from your friends whc feel sure that you will make good use of them. He says ever so many friends helped send them to you; that it is a trifle from each in memoiy of the Christmas time, and the dear Saviour who said it was more blessed to give than to receive; and you are to give our regards to your mother, and tell her we hope she will let you accept these gifts for His sake. Those are papa's very words; I had a great time writing the^Ti ; I had to keep asking him over and over, what came next; it took me most all day to Mrrite this letter, and I had to copy it twice; once I blotted dreadfully, and once I got it all mixed up. It doesn't take me so long when I write just my own words, because I pick out the little bits of ones. I like to speak long words pretty well, but it is a good deal of trouble to write them ; they have so many letters, you see. Well, I hope you will love Dee Dunmore, and I'm sure you will ; I hope yon will like the name. I like Daisy Isabelle very much indeed. I never had a dollie in my life whose name I liked no well. Oh! I forgot to tell you that the dress in the bottom of the trunk is too lai^e for Dee, and too small DEE DUNMOBE BEY ANT. 67 for me, and mamma thought it possible it might fit j'ou; she says if it doesn't, your mamma will know some little girl to give it to. Now I wish you merrj' Christmas, ar .' ! i ope you will write to me. Good-bv. De.'. Du:smore. I ii] " Well, of all things in this world ! " said Ben, the minute the letter was finished ; though what "all things in this world " had to do with it, he did not explain. As for Daisy, she sat like one stunned, staring at the letter in her lap. " Why don't you open the trunk, dear, and give Dee a breath of fresh air ? " " Mother," said Daisy, " doesn't it seem almost too wonderful, some way?" Then she dived forward and raised the lid, and amid little squeals of delight, and exclamations of rapture, Miss Dee was drawn out from her wrappings and stood before them, smiling lips, blue eyes, curly hair, and all! Could I describe her, do you think, or her wardrobe, for that matter? It was, without doubt, the most elegant one that was ever un[)acked in that little village. " Do look at the silk dresses ! " said Line. "Miss Sutherland's wardrobe sinks into insig- nificance beside this one." The purse had slipped from her delicate hand 1 1- p- . f: 68 MTSS IJEE nUNMOBE BRYANT. and lay just at her side, and was heavy. Ben took it in hand, and his face grew first red, then pale, as he said at last ahnost under his breath : " Mother, there are fifty dollars in that purse. What does it all mean?" But Daisy had forgotten the purse and its contents ; she was rapturously kissing the pict- ure of a sweet-faced little girl, with a doUie in her arms. -# CHAPTER V. "deb dunmorb's" bivals. TTTHAT does it all mean?" asked Ben at last, his usually cheery face clouded over. "I don't understand it, mother. We may be poor, but we are surely not objects of charity." " This isn't charity, my boy," said Mrs Bryant, with her brightest smile, « this is grace." Then, seeing that Ben's face did not brighten, she added, speaking very kindly, but with a good deal of decision : " Ben, dear, don't allow your- self to be above receiving kindly and cordial lifts in this world, from your brothers and sisters. These are not strangers; they belong to our Father's family. We did not ai»])eal to them for a Christmas y'% but our Fntlier knows perfectly well that we are in closer quarters than usual this winter; and, while I had not reached the point of asking any one but if. -I • ' '41 fl ■ m 10 MISS DEE DUNMORE BUT ANT. Him, I am more than thankful that he has put it into the hearts of some of our brothers and sisters to give us a lift towards the rent, and the new stove which seems almost a necessity." " It seems just like beggars ! " said Ben, and his voice was almost scornful. " Why, none of us begged, my boy, though I hope our pride would not be above even that if it should be plainly shown that it was our duty. Look here, mother's boy, the feeling you are nursing now is beneath you ; it looks just enough like real honest virtue for Satan to succeed in deceiving you ; and 1 have no doubt he is very much tickled, this minute, about having done so. " To go about asking for help, or even to be willing to receive help that is unnecessary, is to have a mean nature ; but, on the other hand, to be above refusing a hearti'y offered and kindly meant lift, when one is really in need, shows a mean nature also. You will never be mean in one direction, Ben, and if I were you, I would see to it that Satan didn't outwit rae at the other end of the line, » " Well, but, mother," here interposed Line, queer and strange "it is so to have such a "DEE DUNMORE'S*' BIVALS. 11 thing happen to us ! Whoever heard of a lot of strangers starting up and sending money to people whom they don't know at all, and who didn't ask for any of their help ? " " It is strange," mused Mrs. Byrant, " when you talk about a lot of strangers, but when one thinks of Father, and the other children of the family, it isn't so strange, after all ; it is just like Him." Line laughed a little, and yet her laugh had almost a note of awe in it. Her mother's way of speaking about God was always wonderful and rather bewildering both to Ben and Line. Ben's face was clearing. He did not fully under- stand his mother, but he had great faith in her, and sense enough to see that her dignity was superior to his. He did not want to be mean, certainly. It was a new idea to him that it was possible for a person to be too small of nature to receive gifts graciously. As for Daisy, she was still so absorbed in loving Miss Dee Dunmore, that she took no part in this conversation, and indeed did not give it her usual attention. One sentence, however, had attracted her, and she gave over kissing Dee Dunmore and 'I* 'HA V 5 ; ■ ,1 ! w MISS I)EE nimMOBE BRYANT, looked thoughtfully at her mother for a full minute before she asked her grave question : " Mother, are we in need ? " " Ves," said Ben, " that's the question." Mrs. Byrant was still for so long that Line looked at her in surprise, then gave Ben a half-rei»roachful glance, as much as to say, " See how you have made her feel, with yoMV questionings ! " " Children," said Mrs. Bryant, and her voice trembled a little, despite her effort to control it, "mother doesn't tell you all her cares, because you are too young yet to bear their weight ; but now that the blessed Father in heaven has come to us in so wonderful a way, perhaps you ought to know that there are a few debts, in spite of all I could do, pressing upon us; one, in particular, that I could see no way of meet- ing; it has troubled me night and day for weeks, though I have not let any of you know about it, because I knew you were doing all you could, now, and it seemed hard to give you any more burdens to think about. A few nights ago I was able to leave it in the hands of our Father, and to say to Him that I was willing to trust to His way of leading me, "PME LUNMOBE' S" RIVAL8. 73 though it should be quite in the dark. And it did seem dark, I can tell you. I puzzled my head all one night, trying to think of ways in which help might come ; but I never thought of this one I " "Mother," said Ben, his voice grave and respectful, "I did n't understand; I mean I did not know you had a trouble." Before Mrs. Bryant could open her lips to reply to this, something else astonishing hap- pened. Another knock at the door, and an- other box on the steps; two of them, indeed, both directed very plainly to "Daisy Isabelle Byrant." " What in the world 1 " said Ben, and then fell to work with hammer and axe, to find out. Daisy, pale with excitement, laid Dee Dunmore down very carefully, and came herself to lift the soft cotton from whatever precious thing lay underneath it. Another dollie I The love- liest little old-fashioned darling! Dressed in a round waist of rich embroidery, with a full baby skirt, and a broad embroidered collar and cuffs; with real hair on her head, and real shoes on her feet, and a card in her pretty hand, which read : " I am Nellie May, and I wish you b n in i' ih ) i iT^ '!«! m. 74 Miaa DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Fve come to live with you." •* Mother ! " said Daisy, her lips fairly trem- bling. " O, mother ! " but that was just as much as the lips were capable of doing. " Hold on," said Ben, " there's more things in this box. A whole raft of dresses and things, I suppose. No, as true as my name is Benjamin Foster Bryant, there's another doll I " Sure enough, a lovely little woman in a long **newmarket" buttoned to her toes, and a charm- ing little storm hood out of which the sweetest face peeped, as Daisy bent forward to make out the name : ** From Alice Castleton to Daisy Isabelle Bryant, with happy New Year wishes." There were many other things in that box. ** A whole raft of dresses and things," as Ben had said. Also a cunning little bedstead, all made up, ready for " Nellie May " to sleep on, and a set of china dishes for her refreshments. So eager were they all, in their admiring exam- ination of the pretty things, that they almost forgot there was another box. Ben, being a boy, was ready for it first ; but declared that he could tell before opening, what was in it. There was another doll, of course. "DEE DUNMOBE'S'' RIVALS. 76 " O, no ! " Daisy said, but her cheeks were very red again, and she came over to get the first peep when the cover was lifted. The fair baby who met her gaze, asleep on her little bed, with one chubby arm thrown back of her head, and one foot doubled under her, looked BO much like life, that for a minute all four, after the first breathless exclamation horn Daisy, stood and looked, saying nothing. At last, Ben was equal to his favorite and most expressive remark : " Well, I never ! " Then they fell to unpacking. The baby was found to open its eyes as soon as it was stood on its feet. It also had brought its bed along, and a supply of lovely white "slips" Mrs. Bryant called them, and was "Little Emme- line, from New York." So a card under the pillow declared. To undertake to describe the Bryant family for the remainder of that day, would be a task quite beyond my powers. Line declared she was but six years old, she was sure, and wanted to do nothing but dress and undress dollies; and Mrs. Bryant said she did not wonder ; it was enough to make even her into a child again to see such an array of lovely dollies. i '. if K H f^^ ■v: 'n r>" J 7e MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. But if they said this at eleven o'clock, what do you think they said by seven that evening? When tlie afternoon express came in, no less than five boxes were brought to the little brown house, each of them addressed to Miss Daisy Isabelle Bryant," and each containhg a doUie ! "With the five o'clock train came seven more boxes, and by six, the little study was literally overflowing with children, sitting on the new shel-es, standing in rows against the walls, or lying on their own little beds. One of the cunningest was named : "The little girl who will not be dressed." Sure enough, a little barefooted darling, with her hair in her eyes, and her hands spread out, and for clothing only a short striped skirt with straps over her shoulders. When Line stood her against the wall, she declared that she looked for all the world like the rogue who was visiting at Dr. Priestley's, and who always ran away, the nurse said, before he was dressed in the morning. But excitement though very great, did not really reach white heat until a box larger than the others, was opened, and found to contain a very remarkable family, five in number. Two "DEE DUNMORE'S'' RIVALS. T7 great rag dolls with woolly heads, and thick red lips, and white eyes, dressed in the bright- est colors imaginable; and three sweet-faced charmingly dressed dollies, exhibiting every variety of costume. The card which accompa- nied them read: "The Misses Cecelia Rosa- monde, and Gabrielle Rushington and their two maids, Topsy and Turzy, who have all come to live with Daisy Isabelle Bryant, and bring with them the love and good wishes of the four little Cushman girls who live in Atlanta." What a pity I could not show you pictures of all those dollies 1 What a pity I could not photograph that study for you when they were all arranged for the night ! Thirty-five dolls in dignified rows around that astonished little room. Daisy had arranged and rearranged, with the help of her mother and Line ; even Ben lent a hand when the family grew too numerous for management without him. "Talk about the old woman who lived in her shoe ! " he said to Daisy, poising one of the late comers, named " Greta from over the seas," on the palm of his hand as he made careful scrutiny of the shoes she wore, " why, she was nothing \l I < 5 ^ 78 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. compared to you ! What in the world will be done with them all ? I'll have to build you an orphan asylum." " No," said Daisy, stopping short in the midst of her anxious putting of the baby to bed, arrang- ing her little arms in the same sweet way they were when she arrived, " don't say that, Ben ; they are not orphans. I am their mother." Whereupon Ben burst into the loudest laugh the little house had heard that day. " If she isn't ready to mother every one of them ! " he said. "Why, Daisy, do you mean to say you are going to adopt even this little Dutch party? She hasn't been over from Germany a month, if she has a week. She is Dutch from her plas- tered-down hair, to her queer-looking feet I " Daisy laid the baby down hastily, and came over to Ben, in her eyes a reproachful look. " Give her to me," she said, with dignity. " I don't like her made fun of, I don't really. Seems as if she could understand. I like her, if she is Dutch ; she cannot help not being as pretty as the others ; but I shall love her all the same." With a good deal of effort, Ben checked the laugh that wanted to peal forth again ; it was **DEE DUNMORE'S" RIVALS. 79 too queer, but Daisy was in as evident earnest as she had ever been in her life. She had opened her heart and taken in the whole com- pany, Dutch girl, colored "maids" and all. " She is the queerest little mixture of baby and grown-up woman I ever saw in my life ! " he said, when Daisy was at last tacked away for the night, so worn out with the unusual excite- ment that her mother could not help feeling a little anxious about her. ** Sometimes she has such wise thoughts that it seems as though she must be a great deal older than she is; and sometimes she is just a baby herself." " You ought to go and look at her now, Ben," said Line. " She is sound asleep, with Dee Dunmore in her arms, and Nellie May's bedstead close beside her crib; and the Dutch girl you laughed at, lies with her square head on the other pillow ! She said she should have to hold Dee in her arms, because she began to love her first, and could not help wanting her real close ; but she was never going to let that Dutch dollie suppose that because she was so fleshy, and her clothes were not so pretty as the others, she did not think a great deal of her ! Daisy is too funny for anything." m St r 1 it m MISS DKK DUN MORE BRYANT. "You don't citlicr of y<»n l-now whoro Arnbp]lji Aurelia is," said Mrs. Bryant. " Come w ilb me and I'll sliow yon." So they all tiptoed in, to sec Mrs. Bryant turned down the sheet with careful hand, and there was Arabella Aurdia, the beloved arm-chair dollie, lying flat upon her mother's bosom, closer even than Dee Dunmore, with all her beaut v. " She asked me," said Mrs. Bryant, when they had tiptoed back again, " whether, if I had had a prettier little girl than she, come to live with me, I would oive her her place?" " Pd like to see you find a prettier girl," said Ben, with enoroy. Then, after a moment, — "Mother, what in the world will she do with all these dolls?" " I am sure I don't know," his mother said. Then the Bryant family looked at one another and laughed. CHAPTER VI. " IFIONXYHAD ! " A ROUND the corner but a short walk from Mrs. Bryant's little cottage, lived a family whose young people were quite inti- mate friends of Ben and Line Bryant. Not that they were in the least like them, unless the likeness could be found in the fact that both mothers weib widows and were working hard to take care of their children. To Mrs. Bryant it seemed as if Mrs. Ked win's life was much harder than hers. It is true Mrs. Kedwin had three sons while she had only one ; but then Mrs. Kedwin's oldest son was gone to sea — they had not even heard from him in more than a year— and the second boy was wild and hard. Was not her own Ben worth a dozen such boys as that? Mrs. Kedwin lived in a larger house than she, much larger in fact, and some of her rooms were 8i .1 82 ynSS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. M quite fine ; but that was because she kept bonrders for a living and worked hard, day and night, almost, to keep the rooms looking as nice as she could, in order to satisfy her boarders. A " cheap boarding-house " the people further up-towii called it, thouirh the boarders them- solv(>s never thought the price they paid was hiiinll and grumbled a great deal about every- ijiiiig. Poor Mrs. Kedwin often came for a few min- ulos to ])our her troubles into Mrs. Bryant's sym])jithetic ears and to say she was "running behind " all the time ; she was sure she did not know what was to become of them. On the whole, Mrs. Bryant who did not see how her own family was to get through the winter, yet knew that she would not for a good deal have changed places with Mrs. Kedwin. As for the young people, who were about the same age as Ben and Line, it must be admitted that those two sometimes envied them, for they were still in school studying the same lessons that the Bryant young people longed to master. Yet Line confessed herself as "vexed about <»nlf the time" with Fanny Kedwin. ''Slic ought to have been named ' If lonly- '31 "IFIONLTHADr* Ik had,'" she said one day to Ben. "She is for- ever telling what she would do if she ' only had ' this or that, and she lets slip chances that might amount to something, just because she hasn't something else that would be nice to put with them. I've no patience with her." " Well," said Ben, " Rufus is just so. He hangs around Saturday mornings and tells what splendid paths he could make and how much money he could earn, if he only had one of those snow plows, while I go to work with my old worn-out snow shovel and earn a few shillings. Every little helps. But Rufus doesn't seem to think so ; if he can't do a big thing he doesn't want to do anything." One evening, not long after the arrival of the dolls, Rufus and Fanny Kedwin came to spend an hour or two with their friends. Mrs. Bryant had gone out for the evening on an errand which often took her from home. On Duane Street lived a young couple with their baby, in a lovely home all by themselves. They had discovered that if they could get Mrs. Bryant to bring her sewing and come and sit in their pretty little parlor with the door ajar into the bedroom, they could go to a lecture or concert 84 MISS BEE DUNMORE BRYANT. together, leaving their darling in her oare and feel perfectly safe and comfortable about her. So many an lionest penny did Mrs. Bryant earn in this pleasant way. Line and Ben were always glad to have her go, for they said it was a great deal easier way to earn money than to iron all the evening, or sit and sew. " Besides," said Line, " she can sit .ind sew at the same time ; be paid for staying there, as well as getting paid for the sewing — two earn- ings put into one." Little Daisy was never able to reason about it in this i)liilo80phical manner. She made no complaints, but it was so nice and comfortable to have m ' er at home in the evening, and it was so loncbome to have her gone, that Daisy, as she sat in her own little chair, with Dee Dun- more Bryant on her lap and Arabella Aurelia at her feet, looked sober and made very few re- marks. In fact she paid but little attention at first to what was being said, until Fanny, who had silently watched Line's fingers iiying for a few minutes — for Line was hemming ruffles with which to trim the skirts her mother was making for Mrs. Potter — made this remark: " If we only had a machine I might earn some t ' " IFIONLYHAD I ^' 86 money this winter. Miss Webster was askirr* mother to-day if she knew of any one who would make some plain underclothes for her. Mother said she didn't unless it wiis yniil* mother, but she said she heard your mother say she had on hand all she could do now. If we had a machine I could do them as well as not ) but there's no use in talking. I might as well wish for a piano and be done with it, as to wish for a sewing machine. I never expect to have either." " Oh ! yes, you will," said •Ben ; " Rufus will I'-iy you both, one of these days, see if he doesn't." Line was not giving very close attention to this. Her thoughts were on the sewing. " Does she want her work done on a ma- chine?" she aski'd presently. "Why, no, I don't suppose she would care about that • but then, who would do it without a raachin-j? Great long seaiiiH find lots of hem- minf,. It would just be drudgery ! 1 wouldn't do it for anything." " I don't know," said Line, " it would be slow work, of courHc, but then, if one had nothing else to do • — I'm about run out of knitting ; I .,. . 86 MISS DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT. need up all ray yam ; it is getting so late in the season mother thinks I could hardly get my money back if I bought more. I wouldn't mind sewing by hand if I could find anybody willing to wait until I got it done. There is very little on mother's sewing she will let me do, she does such fine work most of the time." « Who is Miss Webster ? " said Ben . « Why doesn't she do her own sewing ? " " Why, she can't," said Fanny, " she is sick, ycu know. She hurt her back when she was a girl, and she can't sew, not even enough to mend her clothes, without making it ache. She does not work at all." " Oh ! is she that one who rides around in a sort of hand carriage?" asked Ben. "I've seen her. I met her this morning out riding with her dog." " She's got the cunn ingest dog out," said Ruf us ; " he knows everything you say to him ; minds as well as a boy does." i " He and Willie are great friends," said Fanny ; " lie lets Willie maul him dreadfully and doesn't growl or look cross. This morning mother scolded Willie real hard ; he would keep jumping on Ebon and it hurt him ; he squealed ''IFIONLYHAh! 87 out as if in pain, and at last mother gave Willie a box on his ear, and set him up on a chair where she told him to stay till he could behave himself. She spoke real cross, you know, and Ebon knew his playmate was being scolded. What did he do but get up slowly from the corner where he had gone to get away from Wil- lie, walk across the room and hold out his paw to Willie to shake hands! We all shouted right out, it was so cute in the old fellow, and mother let Willie get down from his chair as soon as he said he was sorry. She said it would never do to have a dog more ready to forgive than she was herself." Then Rufus had a story to tell. " That is a great dog," he said ; " Fd give a good deal if he was mine. Miss Webster tells us lots of funny stories about him. At home he is left to guard the stables a great deal of the time. They feel perfectly safe to leave fine harnesses and whips and everything out there, and the doors unlocked ; because Ebon will not allow anything to be touched unless it is some one he has been told has a right. When they got a new man ho had to be taken out and in- troduced to Ebon before he could go to work." ^\ ■ iJ ■ 1 88 MISS DEE BUNMOUE JiJiYANT. " Introduced," said Ben. " IIow do they manage that ? " " Why, just as they would introduce anybody, and tell Ebon he's come to stay and must be al- lowed to handle the robes and whips and things." Ben was not much acquainted with dogs and laughed a good deal over this idea. "I guess he wouldn't find much fault if a fellow should go to work who hadn't been in- troduced," he said. " Oh ! but he would," declared Rufus ; " Miss Webster told us of a friend of hers with whom Ebon was well acquainted. He used to pet Ebon and play with hii.i and Ebon liked him very much. But the man had never beon i»i the stables, till one day he stopp«d there to speak to Miss Webster's brother who was upsfairs look- ing for something they wanted. Nol>ody wa« there, only him »nd the dog, and he thought he would see how far the dog would let him go ; so he took hold of the whip and started for the door. In an instant Ebon was at his side growl- ing low, but in a way that meant business. Miss Webster said that man couldn't stir a step until he put down the whip. She said they y|g4 to tease the gentleman a great deal after ''tnONLYHADl" 80 thiit. T lu'y told him they felt perfectly safe sime Kl);)ii oxiilently understood his chanicter. Whereupon Daisy spoke for the first time in some minutes. "Mr. Jones ought to have that dog for a clerk." "Why?" aske*! both girls at once, while the boys turned and looked curiously at her. " Because the clerk he has now lets the girls and bovs take nuts out of the barrels when Mr. Jones is not there." " Why-ee ! " said Line. « That is stealing." " Pshaw ! " said Rufus, his face growing red. "What's a nut or two, or an apple? They didn't take a whole handful." - "I should say that ' a nut or two,' in a case like that, was a nut or two that belonged to Mr. Jones, and unless I had paid my money for them, I would much rather they would be in his hands than mine," said Ben. " I should think so," said Daisy gravely, but , Rufus only laughed, though the flush stayed on his face. ** I'd like to get M'ss Webster's sewing," said Line. " I'd like to get Miss Webster's dog," said Ben, imitating Line's tone. ?.' ''(■' \%, .,f no MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. Then they all laughed. " I can't aiTange about the dog," said Fanny good naturedly, "but I should think we could about the sewing. She really wants some done, very much, I should think ; she has spoken to mother about it two or three times. I might tell her you could do it and that your mother could help you if you came to places you didn't know how to do yourself ; that is, if you really want it. But I never would ; it is such dread- ful slow work. It will take you ages to earn a dollar." " It will not take me so long as it will to do nothing," said Line, smiling. " I'll tell you what," said Fanny, " come over to-morrow and see her for yourself. She's real pleasant ; not a bit stuck up, as some rich ladies are." " Is she rich ? " asked Ben. " I guess she is. You ought to see her ele- gant things ; sUk wrappers and embroidered skirts. She doesn't think any more about wear- ing them than I do about wearing calico. I shouldn't think she would care whether she had pretty things or not, though, lame all the while as she is ; still it must be nice to have lots of ''IFIONLYHAD! M 91 monoy. She has been here for three winters. She always boarded at the Caryl House before, where they pay twiiiity dollars a week for board. ThiiiK i that, Line Bryant! Twenty dollars for what one pertsv)a eats and sleeps in a week ! She came down to this street because she wanted to be near the little gray church on the corner. The minister there is a friend of hers, and she says on pleasant Sundays she can leave her window open and hear them sing and imagine she hears them pray. That is the way she goes to prayer meeting. She told mother once that the hardest thing for her to give up was prayer meeting. Doesn't that seem queer? I can't imagine how a person can care so much for prayer meeting. It sounds awful wicked to say it, but I always think they are the dullest places in the world. If I had to go every week I don't know what would become of me." "I don't enjoy them very well," said Line, ** but I know people who do. Mother does, and she is always sorry when somebody must have ironing done on that evening. She always goes when she can." " You don't go, do you ? " " Not very often," said Line, " this time of 'R' I \\\ % IMAGE EVALUATfON TEST TARGET (MT-3) T // ^^ O \.*'..^ i "^ 4^ 4l ^ % ^ 1.0 I.I li^ m 12.2 u B4 lit IM 2.0 1^ iy4 1^ Fh0logra]:^c Sciences CorporaliGn 23 WBT MAM STRHT WnSTn,N.Y. MSM (716) t73-4503 02 MISS DEE LUNMOBE BRYANT. year. I stay with Daisy because she is too young to be kept up. It is such a long walk from here, you know. Beu goes to take care of mother." " I don't believe Ben likes it ; do you, Ben?" " Do I what ? " aaked Ben, who had been giv- ing close attention to something Rufus was de- scribing and had not heard what Fanny said. " Do you like to go to prayer meeting ? Line said you went to take care of your mother, and 1 said I didn't believe you liked it. Do you?" " Not remarkably," said Ben, his face grave, his eyes fixed on the bit of board he was whittling. " No more do I," said Rufus promptly. " I never go unless I can't help myself. One night when Mrs. Knox was boarding at our house there was ro one to go with her and I had to, and I thought it was the dullest place out." ** Mother doesn't think so," said Daisy, in a tone that was meant to be reproachful. " Oh 1 well, your mother is older than we are," said Rufus promptly. " I mean for young folks, of course." ** Some young folks like to go," said Line. ** There was a girl in our class last summer who '^IFIONLTUADV ge said she always went at home and she wouldn't roiss going for anything ; she was so sorry she lived too far away from the cliurch here to go." "PlI bet you the meetings she was used to were different from ours," said Rufus positively. " Or else the girl was different from us." It was Ben who said this, lialf in fun and half in earnest, but Daisy was wholly in earnest. It was clear that she thought Ben had given the true reason. " I'll tell you who I like," said Rufus, after a moment's silence, "and that is the minister who preaches in the gray church. Do you know him, Ben? Miss Webster says be is nice, and I guess he is. He doesn't seem like a minister, somehow. I mean, a fellow doesn't feel afraid of him. He came along one day when we boys were having a snowball frolic. He stood and watched us a minute, then he took hold and snowballed with us, and he made a true aim every time. I'd like to hear him preach. Why don't your folks go there, Ben ? It would be ever so much nearer than where you go." « Why don't your folks ? " said Ben. Rufus laughed, and Fannie answered for him : "Our folks don't go anywhere most of the 04 MISS DEE BUNMORE BUT J NT. time. Mother is bo tired, and there is always so much to do ; besides, Sunday is the very worst day in a boarding house. The people think they must have a good dinner that day if they don't any other time, and the girls have to go out part of the day, or they think they are ill used. I don't get to Sunday school more than half the time." " Keeping boarders must be hard work," said Line with sympathy. " It must be fun, though," added Ben. ** So many different people to get acquainted with and watch how they do things I should think a fellow might learn ever so much in that way. There are some nice people come now and then." Rufus assented. "There's a man at our house now I guess you'd like. He's a writer of some sort. Letters, I guess, though people don't hire their lettArs written for them, do they ? " " Some folks do, because men who have lots of letters to answer wouldn't have time to do it themselves." ** That's so; but then, they couldn't carry them round the country and answer them. "IFIONLYHAD!'* Well, I don't know what he does, only he writes a great deal, and he has a machine to do it with." ** A machine to write with ! " exclaimed both girls at once, while Ben looked his astonishment in silence. **Yes, sir," said Rufus, enjoying the sensa- tion he had made ; ** a machine to write with ; I saw it and heard it. It prints just like books and papers." " I never heard of such a thing," said Line. " Rufus Eedwin, are you making fun of us ? " " No, Fm not ; it is all true, just as I tell you. I saw it to-day and asked him lots of questions about it ; he makes it go like lightning. I looked for you, Fanny, to come in and me it, but you hadn't got home from the grocery. After that I forgot it. He says he does all his writing on it, and that it is enough sight faster than any pen that ever was made ; easier to read, too. He takes it along with him wherever he goes. He has a case for it and he carries it in his hand. Folks think it is a valise, he says, until he un- straps it, sets it on his lap and be^ns to write ; then you ought to see them stare, he says. It is the cunningest thing out.** J li. M Ifrsw T>F.E DZTNMORE JinVANT. " I suppose it costs a great deal of money," said Ben, his eyes large and wistful. A ma- chine of any sort had a great attraction for him. " I s'pose it does," said Rufus, in a very im- portant tone. " I don't believe you could guess how much. I asked him, and I was so scared at what he said, that I whistled right out. You see it isn't so very large, for all it's so cute. It didn't seem to me it could take much time to make one, when folks once knew how, so thinks I to myself, like as not it costs as much as twenty dollars." Ben shook his head and laughed. "I should say more than that," he said, " without seeing it. It must be a new invention ; and new things always cost a great deal even if they get cheap afterwards. I believe I should have guessed as much as fifty dollars the first time." " Well, you might," said Rufus triumphantly, "and been a good deal out of the way, too. What do ycu say to a clean hundred dollars? Yes, sir," he added, while Ben was dumb with astonishment, and the girls exclaimed, " a hun- dred dollars in good hard money ! that wm what ''IFIONLYHAD!'' 97 he paid for the thing. DoesnH it seem tre- mendous?" "It seems as though a fellow could never afEord to have one," said Ben, with a half-laugh. " What in tho world would you want of one ? " Fanny asked, looking at him curiously. Ben laughed again. " It wouldn't be very easy to tell," he said. " I always feel a hankering after a new machine somehow, just as you do after a piano, you know. I never hear of one but I think I would like to own it." " Well, but," said Fanny, " I could learn to play on a piano if I had one. There would be some sense in that." " So could I learn to play on a machine if I had one," Ben said quickly. Meantime Ruf us was getting ready to answer Ben's remark about price. " I don't know," he said, " if a fellow had the money he could a£Eord to buy one, because they earn lots of money writing on them. This man says that lawyers and all soils of business men are having their letters and law papers and things copied on this machine, and they pay a great price for it. If I only had a machine I'd IW ^fISS DEK DUNMORE BRYANT. risk but that I could earn my living. I know it is an easy thing to learn. Pd risk but that I could leaiii it in less than no time. I wrote my name on it. He told me I might, and it was just as easy ! the keys go down with a touch. He said I might write on it every day and learn how. But what's the use in a fellow*s.do- ing that when he never expects to hwe one?" " Oh ! " said Ben with a long-drawn sigh that was almost a groan. "What a dreadful dunce you are, Rufus Kedwiu. How do you know what may happen to you ? " " I don't," said Rufus good naturedly. " I may tumble down on my way home and tear a hole in my best clothes. I've got on my best ones to-night because I did actually tumble down on my way home from school and got my others all muddy. There's no telling what may happen, but I'm sure of one thing as I want to be, and that is, that I haven't got a writing machine and never expect to have one, and don't mean to waste my time learning to do a thing that I'll never have a chance to do.'* ** I only wish I bad your chance," said Ben. I CHAPTER VII. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. I ! rFlHE very next day after her talk with -*- Fanny Kedwin, Line dressed Daisy in her one pretty apron of soft plaid gingham that looked like silk, and was made to tie at the shoulder in pretty loops that looked as much like ribbon as they could, being only gingham, and went *o call on the invalid lady who was so kind as to need some plain sewing done for her. There miijht have been two reasons for Line's choice of an ajn'on. She liked to have Daisy look pretty in it, and besides she made every stitch of it herself. If the lady should just happen to want to see a specimen of her sewing it might be convenient. Fanny Kedwin was not at home ; this at first frightened Line whc was timid with strangers. She turned irresolutely from the door, half- 99 '11 m ^H ' 100 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT, resolved to go home and wait until Fanny could befriend her, but the desire to secure the sewing before any one else was found gave her courage and she turned back. " Do you know whether the lady who wanted some sewing done has found anybody yet?" she asked of the girl in a very much soiled calico dress who had opened the door. The girl knew nothing about it and looked as though she would like to say, neither did she care ; but Mrs. Kedwiu was waiting at the head of the stairs to see whether she was wanted, and now came down a step or two. "Is that Caroline Bryant? Come in, Caro- line. "Was Fanny speaking to your mother about the sewing? I didn't tell her to, for I didn't suppose it would do any good. Your mother said there was so much work on those wrappers and sacks that she could not promise anything else." " No, ma'am," naid Line, " she can't ; but I thought perhaps if it was only plain work I might get it to do ; mother would see that I did it right, and I know how to sew pretty well." " You I " said Mrs. Kedwin, coming three steps farther down the stairs ; " I'm bound you \ - A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 101 do; you wouldn't be your mother's daughter if you didn't ; but then, you haven't any machine, have you, child ? " " Oh ! no, ma'am ; but Fanny thought per- haps the lady would not care if they were done by hand, if she wasn't in too great a hurry." " Care I I don't suppose she would. Of course hand work is nicer than machine work ; but who can afford the time to do it in these days?" " I can," said Line, with a bright little smile, " for the reason that I haven't anything better to do ; I mean, that will earn money. It is get- ting so late in the season mother thought there would be no use in buying more yarn. I can't help with her sewing, that is I have done all she likes to trust to me ; the rest is very particular work ; but Fa^ny said it was just plain under- clothes which were already cut, and I thought perhaps " — " So you are willing to undertake plain under- clothes by hand, are you? Well, there's a dif- ference in girls, certainly. Come up8t!*irs and I'll see what Miss Webster says. She is partic- nlar about her sewing, I guess, but I shall tell IP 102 MFSfi DEE DUN MOB E BRYANT. her that your mother's ff: nTTx^rnlE btiyant. net purpose, there was siicli a look of intelli- ueii'-e in its eyes. Daisy had carefully cut it out and thei. ;iad been seized with an iesthetic doubt as to whether it was the ])roper thing to |>lafe a goose in the study ; but now, she rea- soned, if Miss Webster wlio Imd so many beau- tiful things, believed a chicken to be an api)ro- priate jiicture for her room, surely Daisy might set u]) a goose in hers. ]\Iiss Webster received her callers with the most gracious sir.ile, insisted on their taking se.'its, s.iid she was lonely and in special need of young company, and would talk to Line about sewing after they were rested a little and had be- come acquninted. Line smiled at the idea of being tired with the short walk from her home to Mrs. Ked win's, bui grew grave with sympa^ thy as she remembered how impossible it would be for Mies Webster to take even so short a walk as that. Mrs. Ked win went away leaving them to get acquainted -.vithout her, having first made Line's cheeks flame by saying with energy: " She's to be trusted. Miss Webster. If she nays she can do your work, why, she can. Mrs. Bryant's children are to be depended upon, A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. lOB every time. I often tell my Fanny that if she does half the honor to her bringing up that the Bryant children do, I shall be satisfied. There isn't a better woman in the country than Mrs. Bryant ; and she has a hard time, like the rest of us." Line was glad to see the door close after that. It was embarrassing to be talked about in this way, even to have their hard times paraded before a stranger. Miss Webster was looking at her with an in- terested sympathetic smile on her face, and she said softly as the door closed, " It is an honor to have a mother whom people cannot help praising, isn't it ? " Someway that made everything seem nicer at once to Line. The flaming color began to die out from her cheeks, she looked up and smiled and felt more at ease. It was a very pleasant call. Miss Webster told the story of "Chicken Little" and why that particular namesake had a place in her af- fection ; then she had Line hand her a box from the bureau and displayed some brilliant plumage from South American and other tropical birds, and told little bits of interesting things about I! if ■;; ;' 106 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. the birds who had worn them, until Line as well as Daisy began to think her the wisest, sweetest woman she had ever seen. " So you know how to use your needle ? " she asked at last, when they were beginning to feel quite at home with her. "Yes*m," said Line simply: "I know how to do plain sewing pretty well, I believe. Mother taught me when I wasn't any older than Daisy, and I have helped her ever since when I could. I never undertook to do anything quite alone for other people, at least not for people who did not belong to our family ; but I think I could, and mother would show me anything I didn't know.'* <*And you work evenings, I suppose, after school duties are over?" The flush began to creep into Line's face again. ** I don't go to school this winter," she • said, speaking low. '*It was not convenient for mother to spare me; she has to be away quite often about het work, and she is sometimes kept so busy that she cannot do the housework at all ; so I have that to attend to ; and besides there were other reasons why I could not go." iShe did not propose to tell this stranger that it A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. ton had reached the point with them where she had no dress suitable to wear to school. That the plain dark calico in which she looked so neat and trim this afternoon and was her very best, was growing old and must be saved for Sunday, be- cause there was no present prospect of being able to buy even a six-cent calico. It was an undeniable fact that, despite the fifty dollars which had come to them so unexpectedly through Daisy's letter, the Bryants were very poor indeed. " It is all owing to that horrid mortgage," Ben had explained to Line when they talked things over only a night or two before. "I never understood it until the other day. Mother said it didn't seem worth while to explain to us, as long as there was no way open for us to help more than we were doing now. But I wish she had; we might have done something more, maybe, though I'm sure I don't know what." " What is a mortgage ? " Line had asked almost fretfully. It seemed to her that they were having more than their share of the burdens of life. "Why, it is when you owe somebody and *W '.' -if '4; I 108 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. can*t pay, and you give them a paper saying that if you can't pay at such a time they will have a right to sell your house, or your cow or whatever you pick out, you know; then you have to pay interest on it, every year, and that counts up like everything." " Give who a paper ? " asked Line, bewildered by Ben's grammar, and the wandering of her own thoughts. " Why, the man you owe," said Ben. Line was generally so quick to understand. " In our case it is Mr. Jenkins ; it seems mother owes him a thousand dollars." Ben had made an impressive pause at this point to give Line a chance to take in the magnitude of the trouble. "Father did, you know, and mother couldn't pay it when it was due ; but she pays the interest and he lets it run on, only he says every time that he can't wait any longer, he will have to foreclose ; that is what they call it when they sell, you know, so mother is kept in trouble about it all the time." Poor Line had felt that she did not " know " at all. These business phrases which rolled so glibly from Ben's tongue were almost as new to her as they were to Daisy. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 100 **I don't understand," she had said anxiously, " what we have got that Mr. Jenkins could sell. We haven't got anything," and she looked about the room with a bewildered, though troubled air. Few as their things were, and plain, of course they would bring something, and it would certainly be very hard to get along without them. "It's the land," said Ben gloomily. "The meadow and the garden, and this little shed of a house ; they are all mortgaged to Mr. Jen- kins. He could sell them all to-morrow, if he took a notion, and turn us out into the street, and mother is afraid a good deal of the time that he will do it. I can see that." Line's face had grown pale. Here was trouble indeed! "But how came father to owe Mr. Jenkins ? " she had asked in great anxiety. Ben's face had flushed and he had turned away for a moment, as though he had no answer for her: At last he had said, still with his back to her. " I don't know, but I guess at it ; and I think that is the real true reason why mother hasn't told you and me before. You know. Line, that father used to go to Mr. Jenkins's place a good deal once." ^■1- ';?'('' iJ 1 110 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. "I didn't know it," said Line sharply. " How should I ? No one ever told me. "What did he go there for?" "Rufus told me once," Ben said, after an- other troubled pause. "He did not do it to be mean. I came upon several of the boys sud- denly, when they were talking about something, and they all stopped. Then Rufus thought that would make me think they did not like me or something of that kind, and he explained that they were talking about a man who was beginning to drink a good dea.', and they were afraid it would make me feel badly ; so they stopped talking when they saw me. I didn't understand that at all, and I kept asking ques- tions until Rufus had to tell me that father used to drink a good while ago, before Daiiy was bom, and that is the way he lost so much money and got into Mr. Jenkins's hands." " I don't believe it," Line had said angrily ; " I don't believe one word of it. I should not think you would let Rufus Kedwin say such things about your own father, Ben Bryant." But Ben had only looked troubled and had sighed heavily for answer ; and Line, ashamed of her words, had gone away quickly lest in ;!M'l A TSEW ACqUAiyTAIQE. Ill her trouble she should say something else that was unkind. She had cried for an hour, and made her eyes so red she was ashamed to go to the store for molasses, and Ben had been very patient and kind and had gone himself, though he had just reached home after a long tramp. And, after all. Line felt obliged to con- fess to herself that the story was probably true. It explained a great many things which had been perplexing to her. It made her all the more anxious to get sewing to do to help her mother, poor mother! So there were special reasons why she was not going to explain to this stranger how she came to be too poor to go to school. Miss Webster looked interested, but asked no more questions in that direction. Instead, she turned her attention to Daisy. " Are you a little sewing woman, too ? " she asked. Daisy explained that she knew how to make quite a good many things for her dollies, and then, gathering courage from a look at the sweet face, added: "I tried to make scallops around the bottom of Arabella Aurelia*s dress ; my other little girl had embroidery on hers and I thought Arabella Aurelia might like some scallops ; but I could not cut them because Pi ■ ■ i ■ 4- t 1^ 112 3fr^.«? DEK nUNMOUE BRYANT. ' mother's shears were t«)o larce for my liands, and the little scissors nre too dull." "Is that Ara'iclhi Aiirelia?" asked the amused lady, pointing to a very little neatly dressed doll in Daisy's arms. " Oh ! no, ma'am. This is just one of my little children. Arabella Aurelia never goes out with me. I love her very much, and I would be willing to take her, very willing indeed, but my sister Line does not think she looks suitable." Miss Webster decided in her own mind that this little eiiild-woman who had come to call on her was just the oddest morsel she had ever seen, but she kept her face properly grave and asked what was Line's objection to Arabella Aurelia. Daisy looked at Line for help, but receiving none, put aside the fiction so dear to her own heart tliat the creature in question was real flesh and blood and answered in her grave grown-up tone : " She is not a ' truly ' dollie, ma'am ; she is just the arm of the chair. It broke off and couldn't be mended, so I had it for my dollie. It has no eyes nor mouth, nor any of those things, but I love her very much. I did, long before I had any other dollie, and I always shall. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 118 I would msxke her a scalloped dress if I could." The sentence closed with that quaint little sigh which always went to Mrs. Bryant's heart. It found Miss Webster's heart on the instant. She hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. " Climb up on that chair beside the table," she said after a moment, " and open that box with the silver clasp ; I think there is a pair of scissors in it like the ones you need." Daisy gravely obeyed, got on to her knees be- fore the opened box, and looked at the gleaming things within, her face all in a wonderment of satisfaction. Silver scissors with gold handles, besides other shining things which looked like silver, but whose names and usee were unknown to her. ' " Try the scissors," said Miss Webster, mo- tioning Line to hand her a bit of cloth from the work basket ; "just make a pattern of the sort of scallop you mean and let us see if those scis- sors would do the work." Down sat the little woman, her face taking on the most business-like air, and with deft fin- gers she folded the bit of blue flannel several times, then cut dainty pointed scallops. "They are lovely!" she said, her fair face li '■'if nt ! 1 5 ';« m i .' 4' in MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. flushing. " They cut down to the very tip edge of themselves." Miss Webster laughed ; it was impossible not to. " Them I want you to take them to Arabella Aure!i:i with my compliments ; tell her they are ht'i" very own, but that if she loves you half so woll ;is you rh'servt' she vsili lend them to you wiu'iiever you wish. Tell her also that I shall Foci liiirt it' Hhe does^ not call on me as soon as lur new dress is done that I may see the scal- lops with my own eyes." CHAPTER VIII. i. BEN'S VISIT. TTTHEN Line and Daisy came back from . ' " their call on Miss Webster, Line had a good-sized bundle in her arms, in which were several pieces of work carefully cut and basted, ready for her hand. She felt triumphant, for was not this her first effort all by herself uo help support the family ? Ben was to go in the evening to get a certain kind of button for which Miss Webster had sent. *' I think it will be sure to reach me in the afternoon mail," she had said. ** You can tell your brother to come up to my room, then I can give him whatever other directions I have." "I don't want to go up to her room," Ben said, standing irresolute, hat in hand. " Why can't I just ask Fanny Eedwin to clip upstair^ and get the buttons for me ? " "5 ,11 wp.y m i i'li IM, Il« UISS DEB VUSMOBB BRYANT. .\ "But, Ben, she said you were to oome up, and she would give you any directions she might have for rae." " She can't have many new directions since three o'clock," Ben said discontentedly. "It is only five hours since you were there ; besides, Fanny can tell me the directions. I shall get them from her much straighter than I would from Miss Webster, you may depend. Won't that do, mother? I just hate to go upstairs." " Why do you, my boy ? " " O, because ! a fellow never knows where to step in a woman's room, nor how to act. It is all full of gimcracks, too ; I shall be sure to smash something, or knock down something, at least." " It seems to me that a * fellow ' of your age ought to be able to enter a lady's room and stand by the door a few minutes without do- ing any very great harm," his mother said, smiling. Ben laughed good-naturedly, though he looked a trifle shamefaced. He knew his mother did not like to hear him speak of him- self as "a fellow," and she didn't like such words as '* gimcracks," neither was she espe- BEN '8 VISIT, 117 oially pleased with the fits of exceeding shyness which occaHionally possessed him. As he still stood in apparent irresolution, the mother added, "It is barely possible that she may wish to send a message directly by you, since she took the trouble to speak of it ; at all events it would certainly be courteous to do as she said." " O, well ! " Faid Ben, " I'll go up, of course, if you say so." He went away wondering why things which did not trouble girls at all were BO hard for boys to do; wondering also if mother and Line had the least idea how he hated to go up to that lame lady's room and ask for those buttons. lie puzzled over it all the way to Mrs. Ked- win's: why such little things as these were hard, and why, since they were hard, it had to be a " fellow's " duty to do them ? " It isn't that I'm lazy," he told himself, « or selfish. I'd go up nine flights of stairs, in a minute, if it would do anybody any good." Five minutes more, and, with the puzzle still unsolved, he was knocking at Miss Webster's door, Rnfus Kedwin standing at the foot of the stairs to make sure that he chose the right door. ,1 ! « H i» i ' I! h IIA MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. "Come," said a clear, pleasant voice, and Ben, wondering why she did not say "Come in," turned the knob and obeyed. " Good-evening," said Miss Webster. " This is little Daisy's brother, I suppose? Would you mind helping yourself to this chair here by the lamp? And tell me, please, which of these buttons you think are the prettier; my cousin has sent me two kinds, and I can't decide." " i don't know much about buttons, ma'am," said Ben, with an embarrassed laugh, as he took the chair indicated, and felt that his cheeks were ablaze. " Not ? Don't you know now that there is a certain style of button which you prefer to all others for your collar?" " Why, yes'ra," he said, laughing and won- dering. How in the world did bhe know any- thing about his collar buttons? "I do like them to be just about right." •' Ah ! I was sure you did ; that is just the way I feel about my buttons, only you see I am never sure which ones will be about right, so they give me some interested mmutes. Did you ever imagine how many little things a per- BEN'S VISIT. 110 son who cannot take a step has to plan, to interest herself with ? " " Can't you step at all, ma'am ? " Ben asked, intense sympathy overcoming his timidity. "Not a step," she said, with great cheerful- ness. "That is, not by myself. When ray nurse puts both arms around me, and lets me rebt my weight against her I can walk quite nicely ; but that, you see, is pleasanter for me than for her, so I don't entertain myself in that way very often." " I don't see how you can bear it," Ben said, conscious that there was a queer lump in his throa.. " What, the not being able to walk ? Why, I know so maay trials harder than that, that fiometimes it seems not worth mentioning. What would you think if I should tell you it had been the cause of more happiness to me than any other thing in my life ? You would find it very hard to believe, wouldii't you?" she added, smiling at the look in Ben's brown eyes. " I'd believe it if you s.iid so," he answered gallantly, " but I don't see how it could be. It seems to me I would be cross and miserable all the while." m 120 MISS DEE DUNMOEE nRy.lXr. "I shall have to tell you a little bit about it," she said cheerily. " I had a little brothe. , the dearest, handsomest boy in the world ; only six vears old he was, and I was thirteen. Tn the night, when my i^.iother was sick, our house took fire. Father nearly lost his life in saving mother, who was quite helpless; and in the confusion dear little Bonnie was forgotten for the moment by everybody but me. I had run to his room, which was quite a long way from mother's, so his voice would not disturb her morning rest, but by the time I had him in my arms and was ready to run, the staircase was on fire. There was no way of escape but by the window, and the fire was making such rapid strides that I felt sure poor Bennie could not breathe the heated air long enough for them to bring a ladder, so I jumped to the ground with him in my arms. Think what a joy it was to me to be told that I had saved my little brother's life I That was the beginning of the happiness. Nothing was ever sweeter to me than my father's and mother's kisses that morn- ing ; but I have had a great deal of happiness out of it since." " Couldn't you ever walk again ? " Ben asked. BEN'S VISIT. 121 '*(), yt's! I Will Iced for several years; but the jnriij) limt the nerves of the back in some way. They kept growing weaker and weaker, and at hist they wouldn't work any more; they felt that they had done enough. But my little brother Bennie is a tall, splendid boy now almost nineteen, nnd just as good and brave II nd grand as he can be. He is going to do his work in the world and mine, too — do it better, I dare say, than I could myself — so you see I have happiness out of it ail the time. There are very few brothers in the world like mine. I couldn't begin to tell you of the number of things he does for my com- fort. He seems to be always planning some- thing new and nice for me." " I should think so ! " bnrat forth Ben, his embarrassment all gone, his eyes glowing with sympathetic feeling. " I should think he would feel as though he couldn't do enough for you." " Why ? " asked Miss Webster, smiling. " Why, because," said Ben, almost indignant that she should ask the question, "didn't you ])retty nearly give up your life for him? I should think he would almost worship you." I m V 1 ' 1 -1 i ■ -i 1 J 1 \ f ,:j ■1 f' H 122 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Miss Webster's bright kind eyes were fixed ^ upon him, her voice was eager and pleased. "I am so glad to hear you say this," she said ; " it tells me plainly that you are a servant of Jesus Christ, and think no service too much to give to Him. I wondered if you were, when I heard your sister call you Ben this afternoon. You can imagine that I am especially interested in boys of that name, so I thought about it a good deal ; I am glad to know. You do serve Him, don't you?" Then you should have seen Ben's face ! As- tonishment, dismay, extreme embarrassment, these feelings followed one another in such quick succession as to almost take his breath away. What did Miss Webster mean? What had he said to lead her to make such a mistake as this ! His eyes drooped before her earnest gaze, and he felt ashamed and pained to have to answer her question with a low-toned " No, ma'am." "Oh!" she said, in a disappointed tone, "I am so sorry to hear that. Why, I don't under- stand it. How can you, who understood so quickly what my brother Bennie felt for me, feel other than boundless gratitude and love for BEN'S VISIT. 123 your Elder Brother who gave His life for you ? I thought of course you returned His love. How is it, my boy ? Why do you not belong to Him?" Ben was silent for a few minutes, then mur- mured low something about being "too young," and felt ashamed of himself while he spoke, his reply sounded so foolish. " Too young ! " repeated Miss Webster in apparent astonishment, " that is strange. Ben- nie loved me with all his heart, years before he was as old as you; and I am sure you must know how to love. How is it with that little Daisy of ^ours who visited me to-day? You are not too young to love her?" Ben felt more ashamed than before, still there seemed to him something to say for his side of the question, and he answered sturdily that he always supposed there was more to do than just to love somebody. "Why, no," said Miss Webster quickly, " nothing more than grows out of honest loving service, you know. Your love for Daisy does not permit you to sit still and see her suffer, when you could do anything to help her. That is one form of service ; then how is it with m m M i M 'U: 124 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. your mother? Doesn't your love for her prompt you to obey her directions? What sort of love would it be which allowed you to de- liberately do that which you knew would pain her or was in any way contrary to her wishv^s ? Don't you see that honest loving means service to those who need, and loyal obedience to those who have a right to command? Aren't you old enough to love the Lord Jesus Christ and to follow his directions ? " "Yes'm," said Ben frankly, "I suppose I am. T never thought of it in that way; being a Christian always seemed to me something for old people, or for men and women, at least." "I understand; you thought it something too great for young people. It is great, cer- tainly ; but it is like some other great things, human love, for instance. Take Daisy and yourself. I know you both love your mother, but you can show it by doing for her things which Daisy cannot do, because her arms are not strong enough ; yet, to the measure of her strength, I presume she shows her love in service," " Yes'm," said Ben, but even as he spoke he gave a little sigh — th *, 130 ^f^ss itp:r hrsMoitK hryant. M i I " Why," said Ben, hesitating, while a deep crimRon flush spread all over his face, " I sup- pose I could, but " — There he stopped. He wished Miss Webster would finish the sentence for him ; he had not the least idea how to finish it ; but she looked directly at him and waited. **I don't want to," he said at last. "That is honest. I am glad you own it; but for all that I ask you to do it. And if I am not mistaken in you, you will. Didn'i; you tell me you ought, my boy ? " Ben Bryant had never in his life before had so small an opinion of himself. He had always rather prided himself on his honesty. Some- thing in Miss Webster's tone made him feel as though he was dishonest and mean. He did not want to make the promise she called for, yet he did not understand his own heart enourh to tell why. Neither did he see any honest reason for not doing so. At last, drawing a long sigh, like one who was forced beyond his inclinations, he said, <* I suppose I can do it, Miss Webster, if you think it will be of any use." She smiled on him brightly. ** I am sure it BEN'S VISIT. 181 will be of use in your case, because I take you to be faithful about anything that you under- take." Ben went home, thoughtful. Line questioned him curiously. What did he think of Miss "Webster? What had kept him so long? Did she say anything to him, beyond the directions about the work? Didn't he think she was lovely? Some of these questions he found hard to answer ; be was in no mood to tell what Miss Webster had said to him. He put Line off almost gruffly, and gave his attention to Daisy. Her face was a stud v. She had letired to the ¥ farthest corner of the trim little study, and was bent over with her elbow on her knee and her cheek resting on one hand, while in the other she held a small box of ])ennies, and one half dime, being, as Ben very well knew, all the money she had in the world. " It isn't enough to do anything with," she said at last, her voice so sad that it went to Ben's heart. "What did you want to do, Daisylinda? You are not in need of another picture-frame so soon, surely." He gave a glance around the decorated walls as he spoke. A new picture, a p. ■If J i ''^ w U^ MTSS DEE DUNMORE JiRYANT. lovely little Christmas scene, had been mounted but the day before, and hung in a conspicuous corner. " O, no ! " said Daisy, " I was not planning anything for myself. I wanted to think of some way to help mother ; I heard her tell you and Line about the money, and that she didn't know how to pay it, but I have only seventeen cents, and that won't do hardly any good at all. If I only knew soiiie way to make it grow bigger." CHAPTER IX. i( DO IT, ANYHOW » 13 EN was moving very slowly down the -*-^^ street. The night was cold, and he had his hands in his pockets. He was whist- ling to keep his courage up. The truth was, Ben was a good deal discouraged, and was also in some perplexity. Something troubled him very much ; something that he had not told his mother, nor indeed anybody else; one of the perplexities was, whether he ought to do so. He hated to get home while his mind was in such a whirl of doubt; therefore he walked slowly, though it was so chilly. In one of the pauses between the rather dole- ful whistling he was doing, came the distinct sound of a " tap, tap, tap," on a window pane. Ben stopped and listened. It came again, " tap tap, tap." " That is Miss Webster's window," Haid Ben, 133 '3 «1 m 184 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. // ) ,' looking up. "I wonder if she can be tapping for somebody? She can't walk, and maybe she wants something. But maybe it is only the elm branches tapping against the window. Dear me ! I wish I knew. I'd go up in a min- ute if she wanted anything; but it would be awkward to go and find it was only the elm- tree knocking." While he waited, the street door opened and Fanny Kedwin looked out. " Ben," she saiLt , "if that is you. Miss Webster says she wishes you would come up to her room ; she wants to see you." "It is me," said Ben, without regard to grammar, " but I don't know what she wants of me ; do you ? " He followed Fanny as he spoke, somewhat reluctantly. He admired Miss Webster very much, but felt exceedingly shy about meeting with her. "No, I don't," said Fanny shortly. "She wants to preach to you, I suppose ; she preaches to us, or about us, most of the time. She is always talking about how young folks ought to do, or might do, or something. I'm tired of her; she is just an old maid ; what do old maids "DO IT, ANYHOW.'* 186 know about young folks I should like to know ? If it had not been , for her mother would have let Rufus and me go to that masquerade party to-night. I had just the prettiest notion about a dress, and it wouldn't have cost much of any- thing. Mother was almost willing until she went and talked with Miss Webster, and then she said No, outright. I'm tired of her ; I wish she would go home; I don't care if she does pay more for her board than mother asks." By this time they were at the head of the stairs, and Ben had only a chance to say, " Seems to me you are in ill humor to-night," when Fanny knocked sharply for him at Miss Webster's door, said in answer to the invita- tion to enter, "Here's Ben Bryant, ma'am," and vanished. Ben thought it a very awkward way to introduce him, and wished he had coaxed Fanny to stay. " Come in," said Miss Webster briskly. " Did you hear my * tap, tap,' on the window ? You didn't think I was a raven, did you ? Take a seat. You are not in a hurry, I hope ? I have been watching for you all the afternoon; I wanted to send Daisy a picture." **A raven?" repeated Ben curiously. Miss ■11 m II 'It Mi; i n ••; t im ^v im ^rTss HEK n''y\fORE hryant. Webster seemed always to be saying something to surprise a person out of his embarrassment, and set him to puzzling. "Why, yes; you know the raven came tap- ping, only that was at the chiamber door. Did you never hear the story of the raven ? How when the gentleman was nearly napping, " * Suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, Rapping at the chamber door ? ' " Miss Webster's voice was very musical, and Ben was extremely fond of rhyme. He smiled as he said, " That was what came to me out there on the street, only I knew it was on a window. But T didn't know what it was; I thought maybe it might be the branch of the old elm tapping against the window, but it sounded to me like a })erson." Miss Webster nodded her head. "Just so," she said quaintly; " history repeats itself. Only you were not 'napping.' If you had been you might have said : " ' Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; But the fact is, I was napping, And so gently j'ou came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, That I scarce was sure I heard yon.' " *'t)0 IT, ANYHOW.'' 187 " Oh ! I heard it very . plainly," Ben said, laughing at he hardly knew what. "But I don't see what it has to do with a raven ! " , " Why, it was the raven who knocked ; at least that is the way the poem runs. " ' Open here I flung the shutter, When with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven Of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he ; Not a minute stopped or stayed he ; But with mien of lord or lady, Perched above my chamber door — Perched above a bust of Pallas, Just above my chamber door. Perched, and sat, and nothing more.' " Ben's amazed look set Miss Webster off into a merry langh. " You should hear the whole story," she said. " Some of it is very quaint, and some of it is very sad ; one cannot help feeling sorry for the poor fanciful brain that could get up such 9 strange conceit, and put so much sorrow and despair into it." She had for the moment for- gotten who her listener was, and lost herself in a sorrowful thought of some sort. Then she came back to Ben 'vith a smile. "I did not !.■; 'i i '■ , ;!, t:{ 1 , * r 1 ■ : 'i \ i-,' ■ ■ i f m MISS DKF. ItlJSMiUi: L;HY.i>:\\ mean to compare myself to a raven, nor to give you snatches from Poe." "Poel What a queer word. Is that the short for poetry ? " ** O, no ! " and Miss Webster laughed again, but no\\ unpleasantly. " That is the name of a famous poet who wrote the poem from which I quoted — Edgar Allan Foe ; and his poem called *The Raven' was one of those which made him famous." Ben's face crimsoned. He began to r.nder- stand that he had been exhibiting a good deal of ignorance. ** I don't know much about poetry," he said humbly, **nor books of any kind," and he nghbxi. ** Of course not," Miss Webster said brightly. "You are young yet, you see, and opportunity is all before you." " I haven't a great deal of opportunity," said poor Ben, thinking of the school to which he oonld not go. ''More than you realize, I dare say," Miss Webster replied with a wise nod of her head. ** The way to do it is to pick up little bits of knowledge wherever you find them. They lie "DO IT, ANYHOW.'' 189 around loosely all about us, only the trouble ig, we so often go blindfold. I don't suppose a day passes but that you and I add to our stock of useful information without realizing it, and fail of adding a good many little items that we might, just because we do not realize, or recognize them." Ben looked interested and puzzled. "I'm sure I don't know where mine are ; I must be b!'.nd most of the time. I don't see any of them." "Really? have not you learned a single new thing to-day? Think!" "Not a thing," Ben said promptly, then hesitated and laughed a little. "Or, I don't know ; I did learn that dried peaches had gone up two cents on a pound since yesterday ; but I don't know what particular good it will do me." "Is that so?" said Miss Webster inter- estedly. "What is the reason, I wonder? They must be getting scarce in the market; it is getting toward spring, you know. If that is so they will go higher still. I'll tell Mrs. Kedwin; she may want to lay in a supply before they take another jump.'* : 1 I ^ SI u ii Hi 1 i m A\ J < I *.>t' 140 MTSS DEK hrXMOUE Jin Y A NT. *' They will go higher," Ben said promptly ; "that ic, Mr. Perkins thinks so. I heard him talking about it to Mr. Wood. Just happened to hear it, you know. I wasn't interested; I didn't suppose I cared." " But you see you do ; your item may save Mrs. Kedwin several pennies. Oh! things fit in where one least expects them to. I've always found it so. Here is this poet whose acquaintance you are making to-night, he will do for item number two ; and there is no tell- ing when he may be useful to you." Ben laughed. This was getting to be a very queer talk, but he enjoyed it. "I don't know much about him," he said. " If he is going to be useful to me, I ought to know more than his name." " As to that," said Miss Webster with a sigh, "there is not much to know about him that could be helpful, except in the way of warning. He was a genius who wasted his life." "When did he live — ever so long ago?" asked Ben. " O, no I he belongs to this century ; has been dead only a few years. Died young, too ; only thirty-eight; and died in poverty and sorrow.'* "DO IT, anyhow:' 141 ** A scholar and a poet !" exclaimed Ben in dismay. "Yes, indeed; many a brilliant young man has been ruined by rum. I hope you fight alcohol in whatever form you find it, my friend. A boy named Benjamin should always be a foe to anything that can intoxicate." "I am," said Ben, but his face looked troubled. " Was this Mr. Poe a drunkard? " " Poor fellow, he was almost everything bad. A I do not know a sadder life belonging to a genius, than the one he lived. He must have been started wrong. His father and mother were strolling play-actors, and both died when he was a little fellow. Then a rich man named Allan adopted him", that is where his middle name came from. He was Edgar Allan Poe, you remember. "He was sent to school, and had every opportunity, and wasted them all. He was ex- pelled from the university for all sorts of dis- orderly conduct; then he quarreled with his adopted father and went o£E in anger to a for- eign country. He was going to be a soldier and do great deeds, but he brought up in a police cell in St. Petersburg. m Ml' < ! ;^i : ■ A L J' .1 ,« 14'2 MLSS DKK bUNMORE BRYANT. "His long-stt£Fering adopted father received him back, and tried again and again to make a man of him, and always failed. At last his patience was exhausted, and the poor idiot had to take care of himself for the remainder of his life. It ended, as I told yon, in a sorrowful death." "And he wrote beautiful poetry?" " Some of it is beautiful. He was a genius, and yet he was an idiot, as I said." "How very strange," Ben said, drawing a long sigh. " I did not know that people who had chances, and — and brains, ever finished up in that way." " Oh ! they do, often. The truth is, life is full of such slippery places that the only chance worth thinking about, is the one held out by the Lord Jesus Christ. Those who lean on Him are safe from falling, and no others are. Well, now you see you are slightly acquainted with Edgar Allan Poe, and with one of his poems, all growing out A my tapping on the window pane to-night. And you don't know yet why I did it. I have a picture for Daisy. Has she framed her goose yet ? " " Tes'm," said Ben, answering the smile in "DO IT, ANYHOW." 148 Miss Webster's eyes with a laugh. ** My sister Liod framed it for her with some red paper that came around some of the things at the SbOre. Did she tell you how troubled she was at first about hanging a goose in the study ? " ** Line told me," said Miss Webster, breaking into a metry laugh. " She is a dear little sister, is that Daisy. I have a picture for her which I think she will like. The child's face is not sweet, like hers, but it is pure and good, and the lamb is very natural. I took the liberty of framing it ; I hope Daisy will not object." As she spoke she drew a portfolio from the table, and produced an engraving of a gentle- faced little girl, with a kitten in her arms and a lamb at her side. The picture was "framed" with a broad band of embossed gilt paper; something altogether more elegant than any- thing Daisy's collection could boast, and yet entirely in keeping with her idea. Even Ben exclaimed over the beauty of it. " She will like it so much ! " he said eagerly ; "I can't tell you how much. She is a very queer little girl. I don't know how she happens to have such odd notions ; she does not seem a bit like other little girls." !ii' f\l- n 1 •* 1- i; 144 ,V /' /•'• ^•rr.-.u^nr r.jf'^wxT. "She is a flower," said Miss Webster ten- derly ; '■' a lovely little wild wood flower, that must not be spoiled by cultivation, and yet must be trained so that it will bloom beauti- fully for the Lord of the garden." Ben looked at her in respectful silence; lie did not quite understand this, but he gathered that Miss Webster certainly thought their little Daisy very sweet. "And now," said that lady, when she had carefully wrapped the picture in white p er, tied it with a blue cord and addressed j Daisy Isabelle Bryant, with the love of the sender, "how does Daisy Isabelle Bryant's brother get on? You have kept the promise you made me, of course?" " I've tried to," Ben said, growing gloomy at once ; " but I don't get on very well. Things are in a good deal of a muddle, and that very thing muddlen me more, I believe." " Then it is clearly your duty to tell me all about it ; beciuse if I have helped make a muddle for you, it stands to reason that 1 should try to help you out of it." "Oh! it isn't your fault," said Ben, twisting in his chair and trying to smile, ^'Only, you "DO IT, ANYHOW.'' 146 see, things in a fellow's life don't fit that sort of praying; and lie's got to live his life, of course, and it just makes things mixed up and miserable for nothing." "That is a grave statement and needs careful looking into. I'm not sure we would agree as to the logic. Let us take it up in sections. * Things in a fellow's life don't fit that sort of praying.' That is a statement of fact, is it? Then of course I must accept it. But the next, * he's got to live liia life, of course,' that I quar- rel with. From my standpoint I should say he hasn't got to do any such thing. If the steps we took during that last talk were true — and you and I agreed they were, and that we would abide by them — why, then it is plain that this ♦fellow's' life must be changed to fit the praying." ** That's easy to say," declared Ben sturdily, resolved on being honest at whatever cost to his politeness; "but it isn't such a very easy thing to do, I can tell you." "Nobody promised that it should be easy, my boy ; in fact we said nothing about that ; it was a secondary consideration, of course, after it had been once settled that a thing had got to lilt r % 146 MISS DEE nUNMOKE BEVAyT. be done. Do it, easily if you can, but do it, anyhovy, is the motto of such a life." " When you have first settled that you ought, there is no place for any such * suppose.' There is never an 'ought' when there is an honest *c:inn()t."' Tlje two looked at each other steadily in HileruK^ for a few moments. Apparently Miss Wei sler h: 1 not the least idea of retreating from her }>o8ition. "■Well," said Ben, at last, "I don't see my v/nv clear, I know that." "Is it something which you can tell me? Perhaps I can help you think it out." "Why, yes'ra," he said, after a moment's slightly embarrassed pause, while the red on hin cheeks grew deeper, " I could explain, but there are other things which would have to be explained before you would understand. You see the way of it is, my father is dead, and my mother has it all to do, except what little we can do to help ; and there are some debts that were made when — when " — He hesitated, and Miss Webster came to the rescue. '■'• I understand perfectly. There are debts whii'h your niotlier is trying to pay, and which "2)0 IT, anyhow:* 147 make it hard for her ; that is so often the case with a widow that it might almost be said to belong to most stories of life ; and you older ones want to help in every possible way. So much is clear. What then ? " Ben drew a long breath ; how well she had made it all sound ! And not a word had been said that reflected on his father's memory. "Well, the next thing is, it is one of the meanest towns in the world for a boy to get work in. I tramped through every street in it before I got this place in the grocery; and I shouldn't have got it then, if the boy who was there before hadn't broken his leg. There are more boys than there are places, you see, or else there is very little doing. I don't know what makes it, but I know it is as much as a fellow's head is worth to get a place to earn anything. In summer when the canning factory is open I can get work enough, but that only lasts for a little while, and it is a good while y(jt to summer." " But as I understand it you have a place in the grocery. Are you thinking about how hard it was to get it, or borrowing trouble, or what?'* " Why, you see," said Ben, then he stopped ,1(1. .iXl'% I'i! "'I !'ii 148 MISS DEE BUNMORE BRYANT. to laugh. " Maybe I am borrowing trouble ; at least I can see that something is coming. I've either got to stop one thing or the other. They sell hard cider at the grocery where I am." "Well?" said Miss Webster, looking steadily at him as he spoke these words in a significent tone ; and she waited for him to say more. " And the boys drink it ; some boys whose folks don't know it, 1 guess, and who can't afford the money for it, if that were the only thing." " Well ? " said Miss Webster again. Some way he had not imagined that It would be so hard for her to understand. " Why, the fact is," he said, dashing into the subject now with all haste, determined to make it very plain, " I'm an out and out temperance boy — beer, and cider, and all of them. I don't believe in sweet cider, let alone hard." "But you don't have to sell cider, do you?" " No'm," said Ben, speaking more slowly, the troubled look coming back into his face ; "that was what I thought all the time, until I began to do this other thing that you wanted me to, and for the life of me now, I can't seem to make them match — the praying and the living Wb^t if I don't sell it, I'm there, and the boys, "DO IT, ANYHOW.'' 149 some of them, come in to see me, and after say- ing a few words to me, they order a glass of cider, and I look on and can't say a word, be- cause I don't suppose I've any business to preach against it when I'm in the employ of the man who sells it ; and 1 suppose some of the money he pays me comes from the cider barrel. I was all right enough, because I didn't drink it myself, nor sell it to others, until I began to pray that prayer, you know, and it doesn't seem to me the two can be made to match." If Ben had been looking at Miss Webster just then, he would have seen a quick flash of pleasure come iiito her handsome eyes. But he was looking at the floor. "I comprehend the situation, I think," she said at last, after waiting for a minute to see if he had more to say ; " but I don't think I un- derstand where the perplexity comes in. Didn't I understand you to say you were in a muddle?" "Yes'm," said Ben. "Do things seem to you to fit ? " and he gave her a furtive glance. " O, no ! but, Ben, ray boy, are you really in a muddle as to which ought to be given up — • the praying or the business ? " ,11 11 '6 i 'i .!(■ CHAPTER X. "GETTING INTO CLOSE QUARTERS." r 1 1HIS was bringing things down to a fine -*- point; or, as I am afraid Ben would have expressed it, "getting a fellow into close quarters." He had no answer ready for her. Truth to tell, he was a good deal surprised. She had seemed so far from understanding him that he had, some moments before, reached the conclusion that she was not a very strong tem- perance woman, and would perhaps think him a trifle silly for attaching so much importance to a few drinks of cider. It was this thought which had increased his determination to stand by his colors. But the tone of her question put to flight all such fancies as these. It was only too evident what answer she expected him to make. "But what is a fellow to do?" he asked, almost impatiently. "There are reasons why ISO ** GETTING INTO CLOSE QUABTERS." 151 my mother ought to have the little bit I am earnmg. »» " Not if you are earning it in a way that she would not like. On which side of this question is mother, my boy ? " Then did Ben's eyes droop. " I haven't said a word to her," he muraiured at last; "she doesn't know anything about there being cider sold at the grocery. She doesn't go to a gro- cery from one year's end to another; she hardly ever even goes down that street." " On which side will she be, Ben, when you tell her about it?" That was a very ingeniously put question. How did Miss Webster find out that he was going to tell her about it? But he answered her presently, his tone still low, ** She hates cider worse, if anything, than I do." " And she hates sin, and wrong, and compro- mise with conscience of any sort, doesn't she?" No reply. Then presently, in a cheery tone : " It seems to me, Benjamin Bryant, that you are trying to answer too many questions at once. Or, to put the thought in another form, trying to take !i! m 162 MISS DEE DUNMOnE JJh'rAyr certain steps before you reach them. The first thing to do is to get away from this cider barrel ; that is, if you are settled that the two do not match ; and I certainly understood that such was your deliberate opinion. As to what you will do next, of course you cannot answer that until the next thing comes." " There isn't any * next thing ' ; there isn't another place in this town where a fellow can get any work. I've been thinking about it all the week, and I know there isn't. More than that, if I should leave Mr. Sewell now, when I've just got used to the work, it would vex him, of course, and he wouldn't recommend »> me. "All of them steps with which you have clearly nothing to do, my friend." Miss Webster spoke with a quiet smile which was intended to be encouraging ; but some way it irritated Ben. " That's easy enough to say," he said, push- ing back his chair with a vim, "but you don't know anything about how hard things are. Why, even little Daisy realized the need for helping so much that she counted out her fif- teen cents and cried because it wasn't more, «■ "GETTING INTO CLOSE QUARTERS.'* 158 and because she didn't know how to help," he lidded. " Let us talk about Daisy for a few minutes," said Miss Webster suddenly. " You have re- minded me of something which I wanted to ask you. Daisy told me about her dollies. What is she going to do with so many?" "I'm sure I don't know," Ben said, a little astonislied at the sudden change of subject. He did not feel in the mood to talk about dolls, but since Miss Webster did, there was no help for him. " She fixes them in rows about the ' study,' as she calls it, and tries to teach them a great many things; but they are about as worthless a lot of creatures as ever sat around and did nothing. We hardly know what to do with them in our little house. It seems queer that so many dolls should have been sent to her, when" — But there Ben stopped. He had almost said, "when we needed so many other things, and didn't need dolls — only one." But if there was anything he hated, it was parading their needs in any way. -Miss Webster laughed. "She tries to teach them, does she? That !■ I'll!: Is** '•' ^'' l.">? 3//.SS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. reminds me of my little sister Faith. She had a great many dolls; they accumulated, you know. The circle of relatives was large, and Faith was a great pet with them all. She clung to her dollies as treasures ; none of them seemed to wear out. She was a most imagina- tive little creature, always trying to teach her dollies what she had just learned herself. Your little Daisy reminds me of her in many ways; she doesn't look like her, as you do like my brother, but she has her sweet fanciful ways. " I must show you a picture of Faith ; I have a great many. One of father's pastimes was the taking of Faith's picture in every imagina- ble attitude ; he had an amateur photographer's outfit. There ! I see by your face that you are not quite sure what that means, and want to know. Good for you ! That illustrates what I meant by * picking up knowledge.' Why, the word amateur doesn't strictly belong to us ; it is stolen from the French partly, and partly from the Latin, as so many of our words are. There is a Latin verb amare, meaning * to love,' and amateur is made up out of it and used to describe a person who loves a certain art, or profession, or study, and pursues it when he ''GETTING INTO CLOSE QUARTERS." 166 can get a chance, but does not earn his living by it, or make it his life work." " Then I'm aa amateur machinist, I guess," Ben said, with a little laugh. "Are you? Are you fond of machinery? We must have a talk about that. Well, father took Faye's picture one day when she was pos- ing in the middle of her bed before she was dressed in the morning, trying to teach half a dozen dolls a new figure in calisthenics." Ben looked puzzled, and Miss Webster stopped to laugh. " You are fond of language, at least," she said, not at all as though his curiosity troubled her. " That is a borrowed word again, from two Greek words, one of them meaning beauty, the other strength ; and the word itself is ap- plied to an exercise of the body and limbs, its object being to strengthen the muscles, and teach grace of movement. It is reduced to a science, and is taught in most city schools nowa- days. Faith had just learned some new move- ments, and was teaching the dolls, when my father opened the door. He thought her posi- tion a graceful one, and took a picture of her. Here it is. Isn't her face sweet ? " 166 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. "Where is your sister Faith?" Ben asked, studying the pretty creature with one plump foot on tiptoe, crossed over the other. "In Heaven," said Miss Webster gently. " Faith is sure to be swift and graceful in her movements there. I often think of her as intent on some sweet service for the King." Miss Webster had the strangest way of talk- ing about Heaven, Ben thought. The next moment she laughed merrily over the " dough " faces of two of the dollies. "They were pretty dolls," she said, "but you see they did not take well in the picture. They were ' shadow struck,' or ' light struck,' I suppose. These are some of the terms which seem to belong to the profession. I remem- ber we asked father if the dolls would not sit still. "You wonder where my bright idea is, don't you ? It has to do with still another pict- ure. Father made a photograph of dollies one day, all the dollies we could gather in the neighborhood. I grouped them for a tableau, and their pictures were sold at a child's fair which was held for the benefit of the orphan asylum. They brought a good deal of money. "GETTING INTO CLOSE QUARTERS.'* 157 I thought of it when you called your sister's dollies worthless. It is never safe to pronounce anything utterly worthless in this world, my friend. Here's the picture. Did you ever see BO many cunning dollies grouped together ? " Ben looked, and laughed, and admired. "It is the cutest picture I ever saw," he said ; "I should think it would have sold well. What are they all about? Why, there's one sewing." "They are doing all sorts of things," said Miss Webster. "They represent the woman who lived in her shoe — you know she ' had so many children she didn't know what to do.' That largest one isn't really a dollie at all, but a little girl made to look like one. She really sat in a large pasteboard shoe in the tableau, but that doesn't show in the picture. They are at work getting their mother ready to go to the fair. It was a very good likeness of Nettie Chalmers; I presume that helped to sell the picture. When I came across it the other day it made me think of your Daisy's dollies. Why doesn't she go into business, Ben?" "Go into business!" said Ben, bewildered. " Why, how, ma'am ? What do you mean ?" ♦• Wouldn't a cunning littje dollie store do an I 1 >:i I H 1 r ! ■ r^ 1B8 MTSS DEE DUXMORE BRYANT. well here, don't you suppose? Besides the dolls, a great many things could be made for them to wear — dresses, you know, and bonnets, and sacks and shawls, ever so many cunning little creations. Your sister Caroline could do such work beautifully, I am sure, and I have rolls of scraps just longing to be made up into dollies* wardrobes. Why couldn't you set Daisy up as a saleswoman ? You say she wants to help mother — I don't believe but this is a chance for her." Ben looked more astonished still, but inter- ested. He laughed a little, but it was over a fancy that he had as to what Daisy might say. The more he considered the plan the more it seemed to hiii a good one. Line could cer- tainly do her part, for he had often heard his mother say that she was very skillful with her needle, and could do fancy work beautifully if there was any way to get her started. " But would people want to buy such things?" he said at last aloud, speaking doubtfully. He was so used to planning carefully about every purchase, and cutting off what did not come under the head of necessities, that it seemed strange to think of people spending money for dollies and dollies' clothes. ** GETTING J WTO CLOSE QUARTERS.*' 159 " O, yes I " said Miss Webster briskly, " hf/yie people would ; it is the only way they have of getting them. There are girls who have plenty of money, and plenty of leisure, who ounld no more make a dress for their little sistc^r's doll than they could build a house ; they haven't the talent, and donH want to spend patient labor in acquiring skill. Oh I I should think in a town of this size a very good custom could be worked up." At that moment came a sound which tikrued their thoughts in a new direction. A little clicking sound, new to Ben, and curious* He stopped in the midst of the question he was forming, to listen to it. «* Do you think that is some one «1se Hap- ping at the window?'" she asked« smiling. "That is a writing machine. Hasn't Rufus told you about it ? He was very much inter- ested in it for a few minutes. I thought he might perhaps learn to work it, but he didn't seem to care to." "He said he saw one," Ben answered eagerly, "and he tried to tell me how it went, but I couldn't understand very well. Have you seen it, Miss Webster? Does it really look like 1 f I 1* ' f ■1 1 r]> '' 1 '.'. 1 iu 1 M: {■ i; V ;l I F^ 100 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. print? And can he make it go as fast as Rufus thought ? " "I don't know how fast Rufus can think," said Miss Webster, smiling over Ben's eager- ness and his confusion of sentences, "but I know a way in which we might test it. Sup- pose you knock at that door for me, and see if we cannot stop this racket and get a glimpse of the chief performer." *: • . ; V In much delight and some trepidation, Ben tiptoed across the room and did as he was told. The " tap, tap," in the other room ceased. A moment and the door between the rooms was opened, revealing a young man with his hair somewhat rumpled and a pencil behind his ear. '■■■ ■ ^: ^ \ ',,:•■■: "Good-evening, Mr. Reynolds," said Miss "Webster cordially ; " we hope you will excuse us for interrupting, but I bave a young friend here who is very eager to see that little wizard on which you play in such a manner that it can give you back your thoughts. Would it be too much trouble to bring it in here for our especial benefit?" "Not at all," the young man said, with great promptness ; it would give him pleasure to do « < i^^'r i' •!■■ I DAIIT's rACB WAI ▲ •TUDY. i I n, ]!'■ ill ilj Pin. " GETTIJS'G INTO CLOSE QUAETEBS.'' 161 that, or anything else, for Miss Webster and her friends. So the little machine was seized with as much ease as though it had been a com- monplace piece of furniture, and set down on the table in Miss Webster's room. " She's a beauty," Mr. Reynolds said, seating himself before her, *'a regular beauty. I've never worked one who behaved quite so well ; some of them get rather confused in their minds after being knocked about on the rail- road for a few weeks, especially if they are not carefully packed ; but this one is as clear-headed as she was the day we left home. Did you ever see one work, young man? Then we'll start her off." Mr. Reynolds spoke of the little creature as though he were alive, and really it almost seemed to Ben that she was. He bent over her with parted lips and quick breathing, amazed beyond measure, when after the lapse of a few seconds the performer lifted the roller, u. d revealed in neat print the words : " John quickly extemporized five tow bags." " You see," said Mr. Reynolds apologetically, wlien Ben read the line and Miss Webster laughed over it, "I'm in the habit of writing iilU I 8^ m i ■'] \ ■'*■ ■ »*: itv: !i! i!i 163 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. those words because they contain every letter in the alphabet, and therefore it is a good sentence to learn on. It is some time since I learned, but the habit is upon me when I*m showing her off, to give that sentence for the first one." "It is a suggestive sentence, Pm sure," laughed Miss Webster. " John was a remark- able boy if he could extemporize bags, five of them, at that." Ben did not hear her ; he was intent on the machine. "I don't understand," he said. "Where is the ink?" " Not a bit of ink about it," Mr. Reynolds declared, enjoying the puzzled face. "Then it isn't a self -inker? But it prints with ink! Is that a ribbon running through there ? Why, it rolls itself up on those wheels, and the ribbon is inked, or colored, or some- thing ; I begin to understand. But where are the type?" Mr. Reynolds silently lifted the roller, then the ribbon, and pointed to the type with his finger, at the same time going through a panto- mime which told Miss Webster that he con- i *' GETTING INTO CLOSE QUARTEB8.'' 163 sidered the boy's intelligence and curiosity worthy of response. " Sit down to it," he said heartily. " Write your name and Miss Webster's name, or write *tow bags' if you want to.'' " Can't I get it out of order ? " Ben asked, his face flushing with pleasure as he took the offered seat. "O, yes! you can, but you won't. I've had boys look at it that I'd no more let try it than I would a polar bear, at least unless I was on hand to guard it all the time ; but I have a notion that you are of a different stamp." Ben hardly heard the implied compliment; he was at work trying to print his mother's name. This, after patient effort, he accom- plished. To be sure it was spelled with a little ft, and he struck n for y at first, making it bruant, but he discovered his mistake in time to correct it, and "guessed" out the way to move back the roller so as to do it. "What do you think of it?" Mr. Reynolds asked, watching his face as he looked up from this effort. " 1 can see that there is a chance to do fast work, after a fellow once learned where the if \\M li^.i ? '%. n 164 MISS DEE LUNMORE BRYANT. letters were. I don't quite understand why they have put the a so far away, though," replied Ben. " No more do I," said Mr. Reynolds signifi- cantly. " Sometime, when you get to be an expert, you must go down to the manufactory and see if you can find out. Miss Webster, there's a difference in boys, as sure as the world. I gave a young fellow of your acquaintance a chance to write his name, one day, and after struggling over it awhile he said, ' I don't see the use in learning this thing. I can write my name enough sight faster w:ith a pen.' " Both Miss Webster and Ben laughed, Ben feeling sure in his lieart that the boy was Rufus, it sounded so like him. Several more names were tried, and then with a masterly effort Ben struck off on his own account and wrote : " Suddenly there came a rapping As of some one gently tapping, Tapping at my chamber door, Only that, and nothing more." This he showed to Miss Webster, much elated because there were only two mistakes in the print. "GETTING INTO CLOSE qUARTEBS.'* 105 "That is well done," Mr. Reynolds said emphatically. "Yes," said Miss Webster, "so it is." The gentleman had reference to the machine work ; but Miss Webster thought i 1 was worth something to have remembered Poe's lines so correctly, having heard them but once. " You have a good memory," she said to Ben significantly. "Yes," said Mr. Reynolds, "he has; he recalls the position of the letters, having once used them; that shows he would make a rapid operator." Then Ben and Miss Webster exchanged looks and smiles; they understood each other, " I'll tell you what we'll do, young man " — it was Mr. Reynolds who was speaking — "well strike up a bargain, if you say so, to help each other. I'm in need of a boy to do some roller work for me, and in return for your services I'll teach you to write on that machine, or let you teach yourself, which is better ; that is, if you have any leisure evenings." " I study evenings," Ben said. " I'm at work during the day, and have to make what I can of my evenings; but that would be study. I •11 ■ I iH = ,1 l, 1 ' i ;l 166 MISS DEE DUN MOKE BRYANT. think mother would be willing, sir, and I*m sure 1 should." Ben's eyes were so full of eager delight that he did not need to add those last words. Mr. Reynolds, looking at the eyes, laughed in a pleased way. " Then we'll call it a bargain," he said, " if mother is willing. I shall only need you two evenings in a week. I don't get ready for printing oftener than that, but you may come up to ray room and practice on the machinv? a little while each evening, if you can manage the time, and I really think it will pay you to do so." Then there was a tapping at Miss Webster's door, and another caller was announced. CHAPEER XI. "what's the use?" in OOD-EVENING," said Miss Webster ^^ heartily, as the door opened in answer to her invitation and revealed a tall gentle- man. " How fortunate I you are the very per- son I want most to see, at this moment." " How fortunate for me," said the new comer in a cheery voice, as he crossed the room with brisk step, and shook hands with Miss Webster. ** It cannot be because you are lonely, either," and he glanced interestedly first at the two strangers, then at the machine on the table. "O, no I it was because I wanted you to meet my friends. Let me introduce to you Mr. Reynolds of New York; the Rev. Mr. Holden, Mr. Reynolds ; and this is my young friend, Benjamin Bryant." "Ben, how do you do?" said the cheery voice, and the boy who had imagined himself 167 > , i! !' I I ^.1 ..( t'i >i ; ■w U ' li, ; ;■. ! \iru I«8 Miss DEE DUyMOUE liRYANT. Hhy of all ministers, felt bis hand grasped in a hearty way, as though he had been an old friend. There followed as interesting a half-hour as Bon had ever spent in his life. Not only was Mr. Ilolden interested in the machine to such a degree that he asked numerous questions which Ben was longing to ask, but had not dared, but his o\ intelligent suggestions in regard to it drew out from Mr. Reynolds sev- eral important points; besides, he was appar- ently, to that young man's grer.t astonishment, interested in Ben himself. At least he asked numerous questions for which there could have been no other explanation. On the whole, it was in undisguised amaze- ment, and some dismay, that he started up sud- denly at the sound of the great clock on the corner striking nine. "Are you late?" Miss Webster asked, in answer to the dismayed face. "Will your mother worry ? I'm afraid we have been care- less. Tell her it was all owing to the tapping of an old raven on the window-pane, instead of the chamber door." She will not be worried," said Ben, smiling (( ' * WHA T '-S THE USE ? ' ' 169 over the raven, "been use I am sometimes kept at the store, and she knows I don't stay any- where but where she would be willing to have me ; but I was going to do some things this evening, and now it is gone." "All the raven's fault," said Miss Webster cheerily, " but perhaps it has not been a wasted evening. You have learned some things about the machine.'' " O, no indeed ! " Ben said eagerly ; " I have learned a great many things, and had a beauti- ful time." "And I have learned that dried peaches have gone up in price and are going higher," said the lady merrily. "Did you know that, Mr. Holden? I'm going to make a note of it to tell Mrs. Kedwin." "I didn't know it," Mr. Holden said, in the same tone. "Don't tell my landlady, please. Ben, my boy, come and see me some evening, will you? I live just around the corner in the stone house ; I shall be very glad to have a chat with you about machines, and any other interesting matter." Ben w^ent away, smiling. Their tones were very merry, but there was nothing about either I,, t- u m \k (p. i ^ 170 MI8M DEE DUNMOUK niiYANT. of them that suggested to him he was being made sport of; on the contrary it seemed as though they vere his intimate friends whom he had known a long time. He went home slowly, thinking about it all ; happy also over the fact that Mr. Reynolds had said to him, the last thing before he took his machine away, ** Come in to-morrow evening, and weUl talk business.'' That sounded delightful. Would his mother think he could spare the time to learn to work that splendid machine, he wondered? Of course it was not very probable that he could make the knowledge of use to him — not for years, at least — but then, who knew ? He had a chance to do some of his thinking aloud. Just as he turned the comer which brought him in sight of home, Rufus Eedwin joined him. "Where have you been all the evening?" he asked. "I stopped for you to go to Jimmy Brower's with me, and they said you hadn't got home yet. Your mother said she supposed you were at the store ; but when I passed the store it was closed." " Did you tell my mother so ? " Ben asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. ''WUAT\S THE USE?'' 171 " Why, no ; I hadn't passed the store then, you know, but I did five in'nutcs afterwards. Is that the game, Ben ? you been spending the evening somewhere where you would rather she wouldn't know?" Ben drew himself up proudly. " Not unless your mother's house is such a place," he said stiffly. " My mother's house I Have you been to see me ? That's great, and I was in search of you and would enough sight rather have had your company than Jimmy Brower's ; but how came you to stay? I wasn't there." **No," said Ben, laughing, in spite of his dignity, over such a manifest truth, " you were not there, I should say that was plain; but neither was I — not in your part of the house ; I was up in Miss Webster's room." Rufus gave a low whistle. " All the even- ing? poor fellow! What have you been about to get caught in such a scrape as that ? You had at least sixteen solemn lectures on the duties and responsibilities of life, I'll venture." *' I had a very pleasant evening," said Ben, with emphasis. He felt himself growing dig- nified again ; he had never liked Rufus Kedwin I ^ ii! \[ ■111! 'I 172 MISS DEE DUNMORE BltYANT. 80 little in his life as at that moment. "I think Miss Webster is one of the nicest and pleasant- est women I ever saw," he said, after a mo- ment's consideration as to how to put his thought. " Oh ! of course she is ; pleasant as June weather — a great deal of it — and *nice' is no name for it ; mother thinks so too ; but honest, Ben, don't you think she is rather, rather — well, poky, you kiiow, or something of that kind? Preacliy, maybe that's the word for it. A fellow can't go by her door, seems to me, without getting a touch of the * importance of his opportunities,' or something of that kind.'* "Well," said Ben, "if she tries to help a fellow to do a little thinking, I shouldn't think it need to hurt him. She hasn't said any more to me than moth'^r does, nor half so much. But I saw some other people to-night. I saw that writing machine you told about, and Mr. Rey- nolds, and Mr. Holden." Ben spoke as though the writing machine were one of the "people," and the first in importance; it almost seemed so to him. "Mr. Holden?" said Rufas, with a little start, "he's the last man T should want to see; I "WHAT'S THE USE?'' 173 don't like him, anyhow. What did you think of the machine ? " " It is the most wonderful thing I ever saw," Ben said heartily. " Why don't you like Mr. Holden? I thought he was splendid." " Oh ! because he meddles too much with other people's business. Never mind him ; he's nice enough for those who like him. Did you write any on the machine?" " I wrote mother's name. I'm going to learn to write on it ; that is, if I can spare the time ; he offered me the chance. He wants some work done, and he says if I will },Ive him two evenings, part of the time, I can write on the machine the other part and learn how. Isn't that a good chance ? " "Humph!" said Rufus, "a dirt cheap way of getting a fellow to work for you, I should say. Of what earthly use does he suppose it will be for you to learn to write on that machine ? In two months at the latest he will take it away, and you'll never see another, and what good will your knowledge do you ? " " How do you know I'll never see another ? Perhaps I'll have one of my own, some day." " O, well ! perhaps I'll nave a balloon and i!:!m w lilt! i;- .1 •i'l: ^1 ! » Ii i 174 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, ♦ake a ride in it to lliu moon, some day, but I (lon*t believe I will." "I don't either," said Beu, with a good- natured laugh, " because you wouldn't know how to manage one ; if you ever had a chance to learn, you would say 'What's the use?' and let it slip." *' I know the difference between chances and shams, I hope," Rufus said sharply. "I call this a sham — to get a fellow to work for noth- ing. He offered it to me, and I let him know what I thought about it — at least I hope he imderstood." *'I think he did," Ben said significantly. " Good-night, old fellow ! I'm at home, and, as the man ^n the paper said, 'I wish you were.' Just because you hate to walk alone so badly, you know, and have been walking out of your way to keep me company." And Ben went in at the kitchen door, confirmed in his resolve to learn to run the writing machine if possible. Everything was quiet in the neat little study. Daisy was asleep in her bed, but Mrs. Bryant and Line were sewing steadily. Line had a history open on the table beside her, and occa- sionally glanced at the page as she sewed. '* WHAT'S THE USE?" 175 "How late you arel" were Mrs. Bryant's first words. "Do they mean to keep you often as late as this at the store ? " "I left the store at seven o'clock, or a little after," Ben said promptly, "and I haven't seen it since." « Why, what does this mean ? Where have you been, then ? " There was a note of anxiety In the mother's voice, despite her desire to trust her boy. It was a wicked world, and the town in which they lived held many boys who delighted to prowl around the streets of evenings ; she had always felt that this was one of the roads to ruin. Was it possible that her Ben might be dropping into it without even realizing it himself ? "It was all on account of a raven tapping on the window," said Ben, bursting into a merry laugh. " At least that was what Miss Webster said, mother; I wonder if you will understand her better than I did?" Even before the mention of Miss Webster's name, Mrs. Bryant's face had cleared. No boy could come into his mother's presence with >.'■■ i ; i i; ■■.■ h 1 i- i i ;|ii Hi^- ^ ^;|' 8 ! * MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. such a cheery, innocent laugh, who had been doing anything not just right; at least that was what she thought. Perha})s she had too high an opinion of boys. " I don't know much about ravens," she said, smiling, " and you are talking in riddles. Have you been to call on Miss Webster ? " "Been there this whole evening! She tapped for me, you see, on her window. I couldn't think, at first, what the sound was; that set us to talking about the raven tapping. It is a poem. Did you ever hear of a poet named Poe, mother?" "Edgar Allan Poe?" said . .rs. Bryant, tak- ing neat stitches in the shirt front. "O, yes! Fve heard of him and his raven, 'Nevermore.' There is nothing about the doleful creature to remind mc of Jvliss Wtlister, though." " I never heard of him," said Ben, with that added note of respect in his voice which a boy cannot help feeling when he makes new discov- eries in resjard to his mother's fund of infor- mation. *' She isn't like a raven, I don't suppose. She isn't like anybody that I ever saw 1/^ fr-re ', V^'e had the nicest time!" And, liit' fhoutMi it 11 ft ' ' WIIA T ' 8 THE USE f ' ' 177 was, he launched forth into a description of his evening — a description in which the won- derful machine figured largely, of course. In the course of it he could not help contrast- ing his mother's views with tho«o of Rufus Kedvvin. "What do you think about it?" he asked, a trifle anxiously, having told her of the offer for some of his evenings. "Why, I think it is a grand opportunity," she said, with enthusiasm. "It will be a change of work, and you will be learning to make yourself useful in a new way, at the same time that you are acquiring a v/onderful art ; for it really must be wonderful to write as fast as you describe." "But there isn't any llkelihoorl that I can make it useful to me, you know," Ben said, still somewhat anxiouslv; it was right that his mother should conpider all the objectloriH in the way." I fjuould have to own a machine if I ever earned pay moiM-y in that way, and they are terribly expensive ; just tiiink, a hundred dollars ! Of course I shall never have one of my own." "How do you know that?" His mother hi' '■s iif 1 ; » ' 178 MISS BEE DUNMORE BRYANT. asked the question so coolly that it almost to6k his breath away. " Why, mother ! " he said, and stopped. She glanced up at him and quietly smiled. " It is impossible to tell what may happen in this world," she said cheerily. "A great many wonU ifiil tilings have happened, even to me. OiKH! when I w.';s a little girl, and had an op- I'orlmiity to learn how to harness a horse, I f;ai(l, ' What's the use in learning, I shall never have a horse to harness?' but I learned, and Id'cause I did, I had a chance to save a child's life. Oh! it is a long story, too long for to- night ; I'll tell you about it sometime, but it is one of the things which taught me to learn all I could in any proper direction, and be ready, when the opportunity offered, to put it in practice. You may never have a writing ma- chine, it is true, but then again, you may; stranger things than that have come to pass, my son. Since you don't know any certain future, get ready for a possible one ; that is my rule." "I'ra gJad of it," said Ben, with great hearti- riess. •♦ It i» just exactly what I wanted to do, i*ni I 'idu't Kdovv button would think it fool* "WHAT'S THE USEf" |P ish. You ought to hear Rufus Kedwin go on about it; he hasn't your ideas, I can tell you. Mother, I wish he could hear you talk, some- times. That boy needs something. I wonder if his mother — I suppose there are as great differences in mothers as in anything else." These pieces of sentences, thrown out in ■erks, set Line into a bubble of laughter. "Why, Ben," she said, "what's the matter? I should think it was a sphinx instead of a raven you had visited with to-night, by the bits of wise sentences you toss out. I should think there was a difference in mothers! If you mean Mrs. Kedwin and mother " — " Softly, softly ! " warned Mrs. Bryant. "Well, but, mother," interrupted Ben, just as Line was about to speak, "Rufus does have such queer ideas, and it seems as if " — But he broke off again. A dim idea that his mother would not approve of his saying that it seemed as though Rufus would have been better, had he been better managed by his mother, held back his sentence. To Line he said, when they were down cellar together get- ting some forgotten potatoes for morning, " Did it ever strike you that Rufus had pretty III .,;;! ' ^ -'i 180 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. ii low-down notions about what folks do, or what they might do?" " It has struck me that he has rather low- down notions about a number of things, Ben. What do you mean in particular ? " But just then a gust of wind blew the light out, and Ben did not explain. It occurred to him afterwards as a strange thing, that in the excitement of telling about the machine, and the offer, and the minister, he sliould have forgotten all about the subject which was troubling him so much when Miss Webster tapped on her window. It did not enter his mind ngain until the next morning, when he was skimming along the street on an errand for the store. Jusf as he turned inlo Dane Street a little fellow with his satchel of books on his shoulders making a cross cut across the pond for school, fell at full Ir-ngth. He did not seem to be hurt, and it was a common enough occurrence. Ben, halting a moment to see that the boy was being helped up, would have dttislied on and thought no more about it, but for a sentence which caught his ear from a rough-looking boy standing by. " Ha, ha ! f guess he's been to Sewell's and ''lyUAT'S THE USE?** 181 got a drink of his cider this morning, and it has made his legs tipsy." A coarse laugh followed these coarse words, and Ben, as he hurried on, felt the hot blood mounting to his very forehead ; " Sewell's " was the store where he spent his days in hard work. "I don't believe I'll stay there another day," he muttered. " I'll talk to mother, anyhow," M . * < tiiiii 1 \ ■I W i -.11 *f r .! i CHAPTER XII. "l THINK AS MUCH." A NOTHER thing that Ben had forgotten, "^-^ was Miss Webster's scheme for setting Daisy up in business. He thought of it at dinner-time when he saw the dolls set in solemn rows about the study, and heard Daisy's grave remark that she was afraid they "felt crowded," but it was the best she could do. But it was two days before ho had a chance to talk the matter over with his mother. Daisy was close at her side all day, and in the even- ing Mrs. Bryant went out to care for the sleeping baby while its parents were away. Meantime, he did not wait for Daisy's ab- sence to settle that other question. They were at the tea-table when he made a bold dash into what, for several reasons, was hard for him to say. " Mother, does what I earn at the store help you a good deal? " 182 11 "7 TULSK A 8 MUCn:* m "Yes, indeed," sai 1 Mrs. Bryant, with great heartiness, "you will never realize how much it helps, Ben, until you oome to bo the provider of a family ; p( rhaps you won't even then," with a bright little laugh which really covered a sigh, "because it is just possible that your pocket-book will be so well filled that you may not realize little helps, but I can assure you I do." This was a bad beginning. Ben was so silent and grave over it, that his mother, watching him a moment, hastened to add : " Not but that I believe we could get along with less, if you see your way to better things in the future by taking a little less wages now." And Line said, " O, mother I I don't see how we could." " The worst of it is," Ben said, at last, find- ing that his mother was waiting for him in some anxiety, "that I don't see any way to earn a cent anywhere else, and yet " — Then he came to a period. It was very trying, when they were all so anxious. Line felt as though she would like to shake him, and even gentle Daisy asked, "Why don't you tell about it quick, Ben ?" "I think as much," said Line. "Have you lost your place, Ben ? I'm sure I don't know !i '! ! I [:;. ,-h ii iD ' I IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ^ :/. 1.^ >/ I.I 11.25 I^|2j8 |25 lit 1^ 12.2 1^ r£ 12.0 1^1.^ 1.6 ^1 w /. V' % /; y Hiotographic Sciences Corporation ^^^I^^^^' ^.V^ 23 WIST MAIN STRHt WIBSTeR,N.Y. MSM (716)«73-4503 HH 184 MISS DEE DUN MORE BR V A NT. what we will do if you have. We just manage to live now, and that is all." Said Mrs. Bryant, "Be quiet, Caroline. Ben, niy l^oy, tell mother what it is that troubles you. Have you had any accident at the store?" "No, ma'am," said Ben, low- voiced, and wish- ing with all his heart that Line and Daisy were both asleep, "there hasn't been any accident, only I've been thinking a good deal about things lately, and I'm afraid some of them you wouldn't like — I know I don't. The long and the short of it is, mother," he said, gathering courage as he thought of the sprawling boy on the ice, and of the laughing comments, '* they sell cider at our store — lots of it. * Sweet cider,' they call it, but I don't think it is very sweet, and " — Another period. "Have you been called upon to sell cider?" Mrs. Bryant's face was growing pale, and there was a dangerous flash in her eyes such as her children seldom saw there. "O, no, ma'am! of course not. There wouldn't be any chance to think twice if I had. But you see, mother, the boys like me pretty well here in town, and they drop in there to "/ THINK AS MUCH.'' 1S6 see ine, find get in the h.abit of takii.g a glass of culcr, M'hon maybe tliey wouldn't if they didn't come for my sake in the first place. And then, anyliow, a fellow doesn't feel exactly con- sistent, somehow, to he in the store where the thing is going on, when lie has such ideas about it as I have." Mrs. "Bryant was not through with her sup- per. The bread had given out, and they were having a treat out of a cuj) of sour milk and a stale loaf from the baker's. The two, with the help of a little soda and salt, had changed into some delicious flannel-cakes, which had made Daisy wish that the bread would always give out just at supper time, so the evening meal had been prolonged beyond its usual length; but Mrs. Bryant laid down her knife and fork and came with quick step to her son's side, put one hand on his head, and with the other lifted up his face and deliberately kissed it. "And ^ you do not want nor mean to stay there," she said. " God bless you, my boy. If you had given me a hundred dollar bill of your own honest earning, it could not have begun to give me the pleasure which those words do. Of course you need not stay — not another hour. r M Sii.af m i 1 1 ■ sf .'. i Ml '',n 186 MISS DEL' DUN MORE BRYANT, We can manage, even if you find nothing else to do." Said Line, in ber most emphatic tone, "I think as much ! " As for Ben, he had a chance once more to contrast in his own mind the difference between mothers. On his way home he had had occa- sion to stop at Mrs. Kedwin^s to deliver a large order for dried peaches, and had stood talking with Rufus a moment, during which they had discussed an item of news. " Joe Bailey has gone to Peterson's saloon as a clerk," announced Rufus. "He gets real good wages, too. Did you know that, mother?" "No," said Mrs. Kedwin — "Take the apple- sauce in, Dinah ; Jane, look out for that stew, it is burning. I wish folks didn't have to have Btews and all sorts of things for their supper, after having a good dinner; it doesn't seem necessary. — I'm glad of it, Kufus: his mother needs good wages if anybody does, and Joe will save some of them for her, I suppose, though he isn't the best boy in the world, I'm afraid." Mrs. Kedwin always had to mix her conver- Bation with directions to the girls about tea, or "/ TlJnWK AS MVCBV 187 baking, or some household care. She rescued two dishes from a tumble, and gave three more orders, before she replied to Ben's dismayed exclamation. "Why, Peterson keeps a liquor saloon ! " "Well, he keeps oysters and other things, too ; still, I suppose Joe will have to help at all of it. It seems too bad, but I don't believe he'll take to liquor, he has had such a soriy example set him in his own home. He was quite a big boy when his father froze to death, after a drunken spree. I should kind of hate to have him there, if I were Mrs. Bailey ; but what can poor folks do? They have to take what work they can get, and work is very scarce in this town. I'm glad you've got a good place, Ben. I hope you'll hold on to it, and I know you will, for everybody knows you are a good steady boy, and your mother needs your help." And then Ben had gone home to the supper- table and the flannel-cakes, and told his short troubled story, because he felt that he mustn't dally with his conscience another minute, that something happened all the time to make it seem harder to take a stand. il H 1 11 Ifl l! . } A. A :*! « fk ifi 'v- 188 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. Was it much wonder that the contrast between mothers struck him forcibly? "So now," he said to himself, "it is plain sailing as far as mother is concerned. What a tiptop mother she is! The next thing is, what will Mr. Sewellsay?" What he said was to argue with his young clerk, to assure him that he had given satisfac- tion, and would be sure to rise in time; and then to do what was a very unusual thing for Mr. Sewell, actually offer him a little more wages. And then, as it finally became neces- sary for Ben to own that he had no other place in view, that he was very anxious to work, that his mother needed the money, and that the cider barrel was the sole thing in the way of hie staying where he was, Mr. Sewell, after taking it pleasantly, as a sort of joke, at first, and trying to argue him out of his position, grew positively angry, called him a fool, de- clared that he would give him no recommenda- tion whatever, and that he hoped it would be a long day before he found work that he did not deserve ; that all this palaver about princi- ple was just an excuse for getting a chance to loaf around in idleness, and that he would ruin 'I THINK AS much:' 189 his mother v.'ith his pig-headed ness, as his father had before him with bad Iiabits. "Serves me right," said Ben, drawing him- self up to his full height, and looking :is manly as possible. "All this abuse serves me right, Mr. Sewell, for having been mean enough to go to work, in the first place, in a store where they sold hard cider for sweet. If my mother had known it, I wouldn't have stayed here an hour; but I never thought of it at first. I wonder how I could have been such an idiot, and I promise you I never will be again." "Whereupon he walked out of Mr. Sewell's store, resolved never to enter it again. Tremb- ling, he was, so that be could hardly walk. The idea of that man insulting the memory of his father ! Oh ! to have been able to say " It is false, and you know it. My father had no bad habits; my father was always a grand, true man ! " "The mean, mean fellow," he said aloud, burning with indignation, " when he knew my father reformed, and for years and years before he died, never drank a drop. How could he bear to say such a thing as that to his son I " If be had not been on the public street, a •I! :Mn.l| I i, ' i i'; W: 1»" \ m \i^ •y 100 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. long way from home, I think Ben would have broken down and cried outright, so keenly did he feel the sting of the insult which had been given to his father's name. Like all insults, the bitterness of it lay in the fact that it had about it a shade of truth. But it was some- thing which must be borne in secret ; not for the world would he ha^ e let his mother know what that man had said. He brushed away a lew of the bitterest tears that had ever gath- ered in his eyes, and gave himself at once to the wearisome business of looking for a chance to earn something. A vain look, so far as this long day was concerned. There was not even a horse to be tied to a post, or untied for some lady driver; there was absolutely nothing all day by which he could earn a cent to carry home at night ; and, though it was the middle of the week, Mr. Sewell had refused to pay him anything for this week's work, assuring him he had forfeited it, at the same time re- fusing his offer to stay the week out, as Ben had supposed he must in honor do. " Fm glad he did not require it of you," Mrs. Bryant said, when told that part of the story, *^ very glad indeed. I would not have had you f cr "i THl.YK AS much:' 191 t^o days more in company with a cider barrel for all the money a month's wages would give me." It was certainly very nice to have such a mother. Nevertheless, Ben's heart was heavy during the two days that followed. Not a thing to be found to do. He had not even the pleasure of trying the new machine and mak- ing himself useful if possible to Mr. Reynolds, for that gentleman sent word that he had unex- pectedly been called out of town, and would not be able to see him until the following Monday. "A fellow might study lots, if he only could," Ben said gloomily to Line, as he stood beside her while she washed the dinner dishes on the afternoon of the second day; "but you see my mind is so upset by having nothing to do that will bring in anything, that I can't make it take to figures, or dates, or anything. I be- lieve I will learn to sew ; you and mother seem to have work enough. Here, give me that cloth ; I can dry these dishes, anyhow." Occasionally he found himself wondering whether it might not be possible that the pleas- ant-voiced young minister might know of some- thing he could get to do. Twice during the aftem«)on he was tempted to go and see, yet '>• i l\ III " V 1 !' !'.! 102 MTSF! DEE DUNMOJiE TiTiYANT. something held him back. I am glnd, on the whole, that lie did not go, because of a little conversation which Miss Webster had with the minister that evening after Ben had gone. **Thnt is an unusual boy, Richard," Miss Webster said. "He has a good face," said the minister. " He is a good boy. I am deeply interested in him, especially just now." Then she told about the motlier's circumstances, and Ben's desire to help ; and the cider barrel and the disturbed conscience. "I shouldn't be surprised if I could find employment for him," said the minister. "Can you? I hoped you could. But, Rich- ard, I wish you would wait for a few days until he works out this problem by himself. I hope he will leave there, even before he finds other work ; and I think I even hope he will have to wait a little while, after he has left, before work comes to him ; it will make him stronger for the future, I believe." " I see your point," said the minister, smiling. " Well, we will wait and see ; let the will assert itself so far as it is able." So, on the whole, I am glad Ben did not go to the minister just yet. "/ THINK AS MUCH,*' 103 That evening ho found opportunity to lay Miss Webster's scheme about Daisy before bis mother. " I don't know," she said, smiling and sigh- ing, after it had been fully talked over. " It is very kind in Miss Webster to think of it, and I do not know but it might be the beginning of help in a very small way ; but Daisy is the queerest child who was ever born, I think sometimes; there is no telling what she will think of it. I almost fancy she will oppose it, and I shouldn't like to force the child into any- thing of that kind. " Mrs. Bryant was found to understand her small daughter better than Line and Ben did ; they declared that they thought she would like the scheme very much, but she, on being told of it, looked not only grave, but deeply grieved. "Mamma! O, mamma! " she said, in the most distressed tone imaginable — a tone which had also a touch of reproach in it — " sell my chil- dren! What if I have a great many? Suppose you had thirty-five children " — " O, dear ! " said mamma. "Well, but, mamma, I know you haven't, but just suppose you had ; would you like to I i\t\ r t !v ;•, I in 1 . ' R ' 1 i 1 1 S \ 1 i «) V .■T- 194 MJ88 DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. open a store and sell them ? Would you now, k'eally ? Even if you could make as much as a whole dollar every little while?" " Daisy ! " exclaimed Line, while Ben leaned ba(;k in his chair and gave the first hearty laugh he lia lint Dainy was grave and firm. ** Mamma, would you think of such a thing for a moment?*' " Little daughter," said Mrs. Bryant, control- ling her inclination to join Ben's laugh as she saw the distress in her child's face, "there is not the least doubt in my mind that I would not think of such a thing, for a moment, not if I had twice thirty -five children. But, dear child, do you remember one thing ? My chil- dren would have souls which would live for- ever. Have yours?" Poor Daisy. She looked down at the bit of work she was doing for one of the thirty-five, choked and swallowed, and had much ado to keep back the scalding tears, while she faltered out, " I i)lay they have, mamma." " Yes, ray dear, I know you do, and that, I think, would make the trenjendous difference «'/ THiyK AS MUCH." 105 I between your case and mine. That is my little daughter's gravest fault, perhaps, that she plays too seriously. I like to have you use your imagination to a certain extent, dear; it is worth a great deal, at your age, to be able to do so, but there is imch a thing as carrying it to an extreme, and I have sometimes been afraid that you did so. Not merely in this case ; but do you remember how hard you cried when Arabella Aurelia fell into the tub of soap suds, though it did not hurt her dress, even, and you knew it wouldn't ? " However," for Daisy's head was still droop- ing, and it was evident that she had nothing to say, "we will not talk more about this now. You will never be obliged, daughter, to carry out any plan of this sort unless you wish. It would probably not amount to very much in any case, and if you. do not like to think of it as one way of helping you to learn how to be a little business woman, you need not. You are still too young to have heavy griefs, if mother and brother and sister can shield you from them; and if you really love the thirty-five with all your heart, we shall never consent to the sale of one of them. We shall find a way 'M. '■\ ■'I lii !■' m m li 196 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. out of our perplexities without that sacrifice, I fee .ure." " Of course we shall," said Ben heartily. "I shall find work very soon, mother — I feel it in my bones to-night — and Daisy need not part with one of her children. I sympathize with her." " So do I," said Line. " Poor little mouse, I remember just how I felt when my rag dollie dropped into the soap barrel and had to be burned." In many ways they tried to cheer their dar- ling, and make her feel that the thirty-five children were safe and most welcome. But for all that, she made up her mind, only a few weeks thereafter, to part with them. The pro- cesses by which she arrived at that conclusion were very queer. Hi i ''■m CHAPTER XIII. ** THERE IS A DIFFERENCE." TT^OR weeks after that talk with her mother, "^ Daisy wandered about the house in a disconsolate and preoecupied way. It seemed not possible for her to settle her mind to any- thing. Even a new book, which came to her through the post-office, from Dee Dunmore herself — a lovely history of real happenings put into such delightful story form that Jjine said it was "just as fascinating as though it hadn't happened ! " — had hard work to hold Daisy's attention long at a time. She had such a difficult question to settle. Should she go into business with her dollies? Set a price on them and actually sell them, and have them carried away from her! It seemed beyond belief. It was in vain for her to assure herself that her mother was right, and they were not 197 lilt :: H iri ■ ■ '■ 1 ;; ■1 ■ a ' ' i :'. r i l ' i :k n ■•■ i *il ' J 'I i ■ 1 ; 1 ;j \-^^ 1 ' ':'• 1 i f •i i'.:- i$ !^''i )! '^i r *.r u 1 ! ' M 198 MISS DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT, *< truly " children, and it was extremely foolish in her to act as though they were. ** But then," would poor Daisy's heart say to her common sense, in a sorrowful undertone, "neither am I a * truly* woman. I'm just a little girl, and things have to be real when I play, or there would be no pleasure in playing." Nevertheless, the Bryants were very poor. To add to their anxieties the mother herself was sick for one whole week. Not dangerously 80 — at least she said it was " only a cold," and the pain in her head was " only neuralgia " — but it kept her from her work for more than a week, and that meant serious additions to their anxieties. Daisy felt sure of it, though very little was said before her. The mother did not help her with her prob- lem, though more than once petitioned by both Line and Ben to do so. " Mother, why don't you tell the mouse to keep her dear thirty-five and be joyful in them?" Ben would ask, and add heartily, " I'm at work again, and I see a way to earn quite a little before summer ; and we can manage, I feel sure." Then Line would come : "Motherie, don't you think Daisy looks pale? *'TB^RE JS A DIFFERENCE.'' 1J)9 The poor little mouse is worrying, I'm afraid, about her dollies. Couldn't you tell her there is no need for her selling them ? I really think it is almost as hard for her as it would be for what she calls a * truly ' mother to do such a thing." Then would Mrs. Bryant smile and shake her head, though she looked a little bit anxious at the same time. " I don't think it wise to interfere, children. Daisy is young to deal with such questions; but at the same time, in some things she is older than her years. It is the ever-repeated question which has to be fought out in all lives sooner or later — shall I do for myself, or for others? That is, shall I make self the object, or only the means to an end? I may be talk- ing above even you two," she would add, with a wan smile ; " you are so patient under the cares and responsibilities which generally be- long to men and women instead of to such young shoulders as yours, and you are so intel- ligent and appreciative that I am sometimes in danger of forgetting that your minds are young." Then would Ben and Line exchange quiet Hi; ■ i . ! 't: ■ ■ f •I i ^ i ;■ i it . y ■ ! ' ^ >M M I; ij \1 1 '■ i i ;((■ ' u i'A 1 '■' m \A 'il 200 MISS DEia DXJNMOBE BRYANT. glances wliich said as plainly as words could have done, "Poor mother, dear mother! we will never let her guess that we are young; we are old and strong, and she shall lean on us." And they would sigh almost impatiently sometimes, for the days when they could lift from her every burden. They felt sure the days wou'id come. After a moment of silence Mrs. Bryant would try to explain further. "Bosides, I am more than doubtful about the wisdom of encouraging Daisy to make play-life so real. Her imagina- tion needs guiding or checking. I hardly know what it needs, and I hardly feel competent to deal with it ; but T am quite sure that she must come to a decision about this matter all by her- self. I feel sure that she will, if we are quiet and patient, and that it will be a decision which will help her in the future." But Mrs. Bryant was mistaken ; Daisy did not reach the decision without help. Instead, one of the forlornest little girls who lived on Smith Alley, more than a mile awny from the little brown house of the Biyants, helped her. The early spring days were upon them while this grave quostioti \v;,is pondiMg. Some of '*TUEliE IS A DIFFERENCE.'' 201 those deceitful days often belonging to early sjiring, wlien the sun shines warm and bright, and the early birds appear, and the summer makes believe she has changed the plans of years and is just at the door, coaxing the buds to swell before their time, wooing young duck- lings who have come into the world early along with all other too early things, to take some delightful swims in the pond, wooing the foolish children to coax to wear their thin dresses, and leave off shoes and stockings for just a little while, wooing some foolish mothers to give consent. By and by there comes a day when the ducklings are sorry they were bom; when the birds sit in ruffled-up balls with one foot under them, and wish they had listened to reason and staved in the South : when the buds on the trees wish they had not swelled ; when the Ijoarse, sneezing, croupy children wish the spring had not "made believe" arrive, and then let winter, and frost, and coughs, and sore throats in at the door she left ajar when she retreated. All these things were happening this spring in the town where the Bryants lived. And though Daisys— her mother being sensible — ;•¥ } Ml ; . » 1 1' ' ■:] M M :l ■• I i'U M :■ 1 ?rJ2 MISS DEB DUN MORE BRYANT. Btill wore her thick plaid dress and her vinter shoes and stockings, there were children, espe- cially some living on Smith Alley, who kicked off their worn shoes and ragged stockings — which, truth to tell, they sometimes did even earlier than this, because they were too worn to be kept on — and rejoiced in the pretense of summer. It was on one of these lovely afternoon de- ceptions that Daisy, coming with Line from Mrs. Martin's with a basket of spring sewing for Line to do, saw a sight which filled her with pity and dismay. Two children from Smith Alley, bare as to feet and ankles, ragged as to dress, uncouth as to hair and hands, one of them perhaps ten years old and the other a wee baby of a creature, played just above the stream where some silly ducklings swam. What the argument had been, or how she was per- suaded into thinking it the thing to do Daisy did not know, but just as she crossed the bridge above where they were, down went the younger one's soiled and ragged and bat- tered dolly irto the water. The ducks were astonished and hurried away from it. They need not have done so ; the current was swift, " THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.'' 2oa and the dolly herself made all speed down the stream out of reach, presently out of sight. The loud wail which arose from the younger Smith Alley child as she saw her treasure dis- appear, went to Daisy's very heart. " She threw it in herself I " she said to Line, horror in her voice. " She drowned it. How could she? Oh! how could she?" " Hush, Daisy," said Line ; " she wanted it to swim, I suppose, like the ducks; she thought it could. Daisy, dear, how foolish I " for Daisy was crying bitterly. " It was only a worn-out broken doll. O, dear ! " said Line to herself, " mother is right ; these things are all too real to Daisy. What shall I do with her? We can't go through town with her in such distress." But Daisy had already checked her sobs, and was waiting for the Smith Alley children to come toward them, the younger one being borne in her sister's arms, and still crying passionately. " Yes, ma'am," explained the girl, in answer to Line's question, " she thought it could swim, you see, like the ducks. She is so little, you know; poor little young one, she loved her dolly so much. No, ma'am, she hasn't any A. hi ': i! . f. !• I .t 1 11 Mil 204 MIS 8 DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. other, this was all the one she ever had. It was broke, but she loved it. Never mind, Sallie, don't cry any more ; father will hear you, maybe." The suggestion seemed to hush the wild cry- ing a little. Daisy could not imagine why, but Line could, and her face darkened over the thought. " Are you Mrs. Zimmerman's children ? " she asked. "Yes, ma'am," said the girl; "we live down there at the end of the saw-mill, or behind it, in that red house." Line nodded, and drew Daisy's hand in her own to lead her away. She did not know what more to say, but she felt that she understood perfectly why the mention of "father" had quieted the almost baby. "Old Joe," the worst drunkard in town, was Mrs. Zimmerman's hus- band. She explained a little to Daisy as they walked away ; she thought it might be well to with- draw her thoughts from the drowned dollie. " He is a drunkard, Daisy, the father is, and very cross to the children when he has been drinking, which is most all the time. I have "THERE 18 A DIFFERENCE." 205 heard that he whipped that little girl once, until her flesh was so sore her mother had to wet cloths all night in something cooling and lay on it." " Why don't they put him in prison ? " asked Daisy, in wide-eyed horror. " 1 don't know ; they can't, I suppose. Be- sides, sometimes he is good and kind, and works hard to take care of them all, and kisses that veiy little girl. It is only when he has been drinking whiskey that he is bad." " Then why does he drink it ? " "He can't help it, he says. He is a poor, weak man, you know, who has done wrong so many times, and learned to want the whiskey 80 much, that when he goes by where it is and smells it he can't let it alone. He wants to — I heard him say so ; and he will go without for weeks, and then a time will come when he can't seem to let it alone." " But, Line, why don't they — why don't men — good men, help him, and put all the whiskey where he can't ever get a smell of it, or buy it if he wanted to ? '* " Ah 1 " said Line, setting her lips firmly in a way she had when she felt that she could say :. i'J >:i:V, In ■ 1 i5 IJi i . '', ' '\n i^ { . ■ "i ! . J' .-. 206 MISS DEE DUNMORE BUY A NT. a great deal if she wanted to, but knew it was better not to do so, " that question is too hard for me to answer; you must go to some of those good men and find out." However, Daisy didn't; she went home to her study and her own little chair, and took Arabella Aurelia in her arms and sat silent and thoughtful for a long time, with the traces of tears still on her face. At last she came to her mother, Arabella Aurelia still in her arms. " Mamma, you know that story we read last Sunday about the boy who had his tenths?" " I remember." "Well, couldn't he, I mean couldn't anybody give tenths of things as well as money ? " ""Why, certainly, if their things were such as could be divided. I knew a man who did that with his garden, and his wood-lot, and indeed all that he had. When there were ten baskets of potatoes dug he had the tenth one laid in a heap by itself to give to the poor. When the cabbages were brought in each tenth one was laid aside ; when his wood was drawn to town to be sold, he said the tenth load was the Lord's, This is sometimes a very ! I I 1 ** THERE 18 A DIFFERENCE." 207 nice way to do. Has my Daisy anything she would like to divide into tenths?" *'I was thinking, mamma, if I went into business, you know" — the voice was low, but controlled, and there was an air of grave resolve about her face such as had not been seen for days — "I could, that is, couldn't I — wouldn't I have a right to give one tenth of all my dollies to — to other little girls who were poor and couldn't buy any ? Would that be giving to the Lord, mother?" " I certainly think it would, Daisy. If you use your property to make others happy, be- cause you want to follow His rule of living, He has promised to accept the gift as made to Him." Yet while she made this grave explanation, Mrs. Bryant was divided, as she often was when she talked with this queer little daughter, between the desire to laugh or to cry, she could hardly tell which. " Well," said Daisy, after another reflective pause, still speaking in that grave, womanly tone, *^ I have almost decided — yes, I may say I have quite decided to do it." A long-■' Ui m 212 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, "It's a sort of sleight of hand," he said, coming to the rescue. "You take hold of it in this way ; not as though you were afraid of it, but as though you didn't care in the least how much noJse it made, and give it a quick jerk, and the thing is done. Fact is, when it discovers you are indifferent to its movements, and are simply in a hurry to get on, it gives over being hateful and slips into place." Then Ben tried it again, but it grated horri- bly, and he felt sure it was "sleight of hand." "You are still afraid of it," Mr. Reynolds said. "Keep at it; you won't hurt the crea- ture, and you'll conquer her after awhile." And he did. Only a few minutes' persever- ing effort, and not Mr. Reynolds himself could make the roller roll into place more smoothly than it did it for him. Next came a quarrel with the capitals. Small Vs and small «'s where there should be capitals insisted on put- ting in their appearance. That "upper case" key Ben inwardly pronounced a "nuisance" before he became accustomed to it ; he even went so far as to say to Mr. Reynolds, "I should think there might be a thing contrived by which you could touch that with your foot, IWf. m PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE. 218 or with something else than your fingers, when both hands want to be busy at something else." "Ah!'' said Mr. Reynolds, pausiug in the busy race of his pen over the paper, and look- ing up reflectively at Ben. "As the man did with his music, eh? Perhaps there's an idea in that. Somebody ought to think it out." Ben did not know what the man did with his music ; he was tempted to inquire, but Mr. Reynolds was writing again as hard as ever, and besides, he himself was having a struggle with the exclamation point. It seemed deter- mined to take the place of every period he wanted. Very slow work Ben found it that first evening. Not a line had he succeeded in writing with absolute correctness, though he used up paper enough to alarm him, had not Mr. Reynolds kindly called it "waste paper," and told him to use as much as he liked with- out any qualms of conscience. Finding the position of the letters was such laborious business that Ben was reminded more than once of the boy Mr. Reynolds told abo'it, and who, you will remember, he shrewdly sus- pected was Rufus Kedwin, who said he "di<1n't see what folks wanted to write on machines • ;. Ml- 1 1 ,'i" i 1^ 1 :'. 1 "■ 1 1,1' L i I i If f r ' ^ if'. ' ;j . ■ i 1*^ I ■' ' f ■3 1 214 MISS DEE nUNMnnE BRYANT. for, that he could write enough sight faster with a pen." However, Ben being of another metal, the only effect his diiRcuIties had upon him was to make him resolve that he would conquer the thing, capitals, periods and all, and that before very long, too, or his name wasn't Benjamin Foster Bryant. To this end he paused in his work long enough to make a careful diagram of the key-board on a sheet of paper, and place it carefully in his pocket. Mr. Reynolds, notic- ing the silence of the machine, wondered if he had grown weary of it, and glanced up to won- der why he was scribbling on paper; but as the machine presently wont to click, clicking again, and kept it up with laborious steadiness for the next half-liour, he asked no questions. Presently Ben was called to a new conjuring instrument. " Come and look on," said Mr. Reynolds. "You might as well be learning how to manage the thing ; you will be wanting to print some notices on it, or something of the sort, one of these days. This thing that I write with is not a pencil, you see, nor yet a pen ; it is called a stylus. I don't use ink, you will observe, nor has it any lead in it; it is PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE. 215 simply a sharp steel point made to write on this stone. I've nearly finished the page, but you can see how the last lines are written." "Why, it is just common writing," Ben said, wondering why he should be called to look on at such work. ** That's all," said Mr. Reynolds, " just com- mon writing, but it will multiply itself in a most uncommon fashion, you will see presently." Ben watched. The writing finished the sheet of paper was laid carefully over another, the whole fastened into a frame — which looked for all the world like a slate frame — and then, to Ben's horror, Mr. Reynolds deliberately took an ink-roller which lay on an ink-slate at his right, and deliberately smeared the whole fair surface. "You've ruined it!" declared the boy, speaking his thoughts aloud in his excitement. "Looks like it, doesn't it?" said Mr. Rey- nolds cheerfully, "but the fact is, I'm just getting the thing ready to be useful. I wonder how many such processes are going on with people? Our Miss Webster would make a wonderful lesson out of that, but I havea't the knack." f ■ ' M i! f li I til ill i M 2'fl MTSf^ DKF, T)rx\rnuE nHYANT. ! While he talked, he worked. A sheet of blank paper was laid on a blotting pad, down came the frame with its blacketied sheet, over it went the remorseless roller, like a grim little horror bent on destruction, th^n the frame was lifted, and behold, a fair and perfect copy of what Mr. Reynolds had written lay there. " There we are ! " said Mr, Reynolds, in in- tense satisfaction, " works like a daisy, just as she always does. Nov/, my boy, if you will proceed to making the copies, I will inclose them in these envelopes, which I have already addressed, and we shall be ready for the morn* ing mail before we know it. After you get a little used to the thing, I have a notion that you can manage the whole affair, addressing and all, and save my time for the other work which is crowding me." Ben thought to himself with much satisfac- tion that he could certainly manage the " ad- dressing." He had not taken exceeding pains to learn how to hold his pen, and acquire a fair round business hand, for nothing. He had been called the best writer in school many a time. Truth to tell, it was the thing he had aimed for. PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE. 217 1 !■ Perhaps it would not be a surprise to you if I were to confess that this boy friend of mine was quite inclined to aim for the top in any- thing he undertook. But he was just now too much absorbed in this new wonder to be able to give much thought to the commonplace matter of writing with a pen. Each fair sheet that he carefully laid on the frame, and apparently ruined with the grim roller, as it presented itself before him a perfect transcript of the copy, filled him with astonishment and delight. Having made, in the space of a very few minutes, as many as twenty-five copies, and finding that the power was by no means exhausted, he ventured a few questions. Mr. Reynolds was engaged in noth- ing more formidable than folding sheets of paper and slipping them into envelopes, he ought certainly to be able to talk. " What is the name of this thing, Mr. Rey- nolds?" " That thing, young man, is a Mimeograph. Isn't that a high-sounding name for you? A wonderful invention it is, of a wonderful man by the name of Edison. You may have hap- pened to hear of him." .■ '? t i 1^ ^''il! i'if '. 218 Miaa DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. **Yes, sir, I bave," said Ben, speaking re- spectfully, and in a subdued tone. It almost took bis breatb away to think that be was really 80 near to the great man of whom he had read as to be using one of his inventions. " I have read about his machines, and thought about them a good deal, but I never supposed I should see one." **That is one of his latest; hasn't been patented very long. I've only had it a few months, but it works as well as this, every time ; did the first time I tried it, in fact. It is about as labor-saving a thing for a man who needs a good many copies as I can imagine. I used to use their jelly pads, and a£fairs of that kind, until I got tired to death of them ; some- times they'd work, and sometimes they wouldn't — oftener wouldn't than would, for me — and they were sticky, messy things, anyway. I was glad to see the last of them. How many copies are you getting, my boy ? I don't think I want more than a hundred of that sort. I have to keep watch of that creature ; she throws out a hundred copies before I realize what I'm about, and goes right on adding to them, almost in spite of me. There's a kind of fascination PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE. 219 in printing just one more, to see if it will be as bright and clear as the others have been." " How many copies can you make of one writing?" asked Ben, his eyes twinkling over Mr. Reynolds' queer way of speaking of all machines as though they were human beings. " That's a question 1 can't answer," said Mr, Reynolds, as he laid a pile of sealed letters in the mail-box at his side. "Ten, fifteen, twenty- two — I've got fifty-five of these ready ; just see how many you have there. I've printed two hundred and fifty copies, and she has felt as fresh and lively on the two hundred and fiftieth as she did on the first. How long she would go on in that fashion I can't tell — not from experience-- 1 haven't happened to want more copies than that. But next week, if I have good luck, you and I will try her metal a little ; I shall have a paper then of which I shall want to make several thousand copies. I'll want her to copy the type-writer, too, which is a little more ticklish work ; at least it always seems to me so, perhaps because I haven't practised on it very long ; but she does it like a daisy." A daisy must certainly have been Mr. Rey- mi ! ; ' 1 ( * * hi i 1 , ■ .1 : >; • ■ :i/ '^!i 1 J I ' ^11 h } r^ i> i» \\ II' r 'r "I * -■ \i 220 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT, nold's favorite flower ; he always referred to it when he wanted to express special excellence. "The type-writer!" echoed Ben. "Can she copy that?" And then he asked no more questions. He was dumb with admiration. There was time for no more practice on the type-writer that evening, but Ben carried home the diagram he had made and displayed it to Line while she was washing the breakfast dishes. "I'm bound to learn the thing this very day," he said, with a vigorous shake of his head. "The letters, you know, they had the dizziest way of flying about on that key- board ! You never saw the like. Why, some of the time I could have declared that there wasn't an ' ^ ' on the thing, yet there it would be, right before my eyes. I'm going to place every letter in my mind, this day, in such a way that it will have hard work to get out again. There are only twenty-six of them, you know. Pity if a fellow can't place twenty- six letters in one day. I can do that as well without the machine, you see, as with it." " Why, so you can," said Line, in admiration. "What a boy you are to think of things, Ben. Look here, why wouldn't it be a good idea for « PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE. 221 me to learn them too ? I might practice on a "make-believe" machine. Daisy can make believe anything under the sun, and I might follow her example in this, and learn to write by imagination. Then, when you get your machine, you see, I could do copying for you." The sentence closed with a merry laugh, but Ben, who smiled to keep her company, did it in an absent-minded sort of way, then suddenly burst forth with, "It is a capital idea. Look here, Line, I'll make you a board, a regular key- board, in wood, with the shape of the keys marked on it, all in their places, and you prac- tise moving your fingers over it, writing words, you know, until you can do it like lightning." "All right," said Line, still laughing, but impressed with the idea, nevertheless. "I'm sure I don't see why I can't learn a good deal in that way." "What Ben learned that day may be gathered in part from Mr. Reynolds, who watched him the next evening in silent astonishment as he ran in his paper, and after a few seconds' care- ful survey of the key-board, wrote without hesitation and without mistake a long para- graph from a book which lay at his side. i (; m' A ii \l ■■ *;.( ') M !!i ' i i, I' \ li ■F 222 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Presently the teacher spoke : " See here, my boy, did you dream that out last night, or make a machine and set it up to practice on, or what? You didn't learn the position of the letters like that last evening ! " ** I made a machine," said Ben, laughing, ** a piece of one. I made a diagram of the key- board and learned it by heart to-day." " You'll do," said Mr. Reynolds ; but for what he would " do " he did not say. Ho watched for a few moments longer, then went back to his writing with a queer smile on his face. ■A uf CHAPTER XV. DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. I'l t iJ^ (i MEANTIME, plans for setting Daisy up in business went forward rapidly. There was much talk as to how the store should be advertised. So interested were all parties concerned that Mr. Reynolds heard some of the talk, and questioned as to its mean- ing, then proposed that some "posters" or " dodgers " be gotten out, made on the won- derful Mimeograph. This was delightful, but the perplexing question was, what should be put on them? " Miss Daisy Bryant will open a doll store at her mother^s house on Saturday at ten o'clock." This was the beginning of one of the " dodgers." Ben wrote it on a bit of type- writer "scrap" paper, spread it out on his knee, studied it thoughtfully, and shook his head. " I don't like it, mother. I can't exactly 223 W ii \'0 ] '.•H I !;' t ;■ I V :\ m I i i 224 JJfLSS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. tell why — that is, I can't put it into words, but I don't like Daisy's name on pieces of paper blowing around town." His mother smiled a little sadly, as she said, " Isn't that foolish, Ben, ray boy ? There is nothing wrong about Daisy's going into busi- ness — no disgrace, certainly — why should it not be announced on dodgers ? " Ben looked perplexed, but not convinced. "I don't know," he said again, in anxious tone; "but, mother, Daisy is'such a little bit of a girl to have her name spread around and talked about, and people asking questions and laughing. Don't you know what I mean? I don't like it a bit. If it was my namf ^ wby, of course" — And Ben drew himself up proudly, and looked as much like a man as a boy of his size could. " I understand." Mrs. Bryant spoke gently and sympathetically. "You want to shield your little sister from all that you can. I like the feeling, my son, and hope and believe it will grow with your growth, and develop with your manhood. There is nothing wrong in spreading her name about, but you would like it better to keep the name close av home. DAISY AS A BUSIJffESS WOMAN, 225 Well, how can we advertise her business ? It will not do to say that Benjamin Bryant has opened a doll store ! " Ben laughed. " I should think not," he said, then relapsed into perplexed thought. "How would it do," said Line, pausing in the hem she was making on Miss Webster's white skirt, " to announce the business in the name of Misa Dee Dunmore Bryant? People who know us would inquire what it meant, and be very much amused ; I shouldn't be surprised if it would help along." Ben looked greatly relieved. "It takes a girl to think of things," he said, with a nod of admiration for the bright-eyed girl beside him. "I think that is a very bright idea; one doesn't care anything about a doll's name being tossed about town, and it would be a very unique way of managing." " Where did you get that word ? " Line asked, a little in doubt whether to be amused at Ben's largeness in producing new words every little while, or pleased with the evident strides his education was taking. "What word — unique V Oh I I picked it up. It is one of Mr. Reynolds' favorites; he says llTt ■'t t u h 1 ' i. ' 1 f >• .1 ' till !!;;, i I 226 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. things are * unique' when I should say they were odd, only odd hasn't quite the meaniag of the other, after all. Mother, I wish I knew French. I'd like to know some language be- side my own, it would be such fun ; and a great many French words seem to me to be very expressive." "There is a great difference between * unique* and 'odd,' in my opinion," his uaother said* "Oddity has an element of queemess in it, while a thing may be * unique' because it stands alone in its excellence or beauty." " That's so," said Ben emphatically, and once more he felt that little thrill of respect for his mother. How much she knew that a great many nice good mothers knew nothing about t And yet she had to take in clear starching in order to live. "She sha'n't always," saii Ben, drawing in his breath with a little suddei;^ r ch, which meant with him suppressed energy biul jg its time. But this he said to himself. "Miss "Webster reads French," said line; "I saw a whole shelf full of French books when I was there the other day, and she aske^ me to give her one which had her mark in, to read after I was gone. It was poetry," added line, DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 227 with a grave little sigh. Nobody but Caroline Bryant knew how much she wanted to have a first-class education. " Mother " — it was Daisy's soft voice which next took up tlic thrme before them — "do you think if it isn't a nice thing for me to have my name put on, on those dodger things Ben told about, that I ought to have Dee's name there? Ought I to have her put where it would not be nice for me to be ?" How was anybody to help laughing over such a question ? Ben shouted. Even after he caught a glimpse of Daisy's grieved look, and tried to control liimself, he burst forth several times, and Line's chair shook with her suppressed mirth. As for Mrs. Bryant, even she could not quite hide a smile, but she answered carefully, — " Daisy, dear, don't you think you ought to always remember the difference between dolls and people? That question of souls, you know, reaches in every direction. Think a minute. Would it not grieve you to have your name in a place where brother Ben did not like to see it? I knew it would. Now do you really suppose Dee cares?" ir , (i i i *■■ I iiilJli ii t-! ■, I ■i \i- ; 1 <,i j V: 1 < 228 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Daisy thought a moment, then, with a sigh much deeper than Line's had been, gave her decision. " Why, of course she doesn't ; but it is be- cause she can't, poor thing, and it seems some- times kind of like taking advantage of her not having a soul to treat her always without one." It was of no use ; Ben fairly doubled him- self up to laugh, and Mrs. Bryant had to join in the mirth this time, though Daisy looked grave and wondering. "I don't intend to spoil the plan," she said gently, after a minute, "and I know Line meant it for very nice, and of course Dee won't care, but it is hard for me all the time to remember that she isn't * truly,' you know, because I have made believe so long that she »» was. " There is a more serious objection than Miss Dee's feeling, I am afraid," Mrs. Bryant said. "One in which the Golden Rule Daisy is try- ing to apply will fit, I think ; if we do not like to have our little girl's name sent around town, we must remember that Dee is named for a * truly' little girl, and that her * brother* or other friends might not like it." DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 229 » "But they won't know anything about it,' Ben said, opening liis eyes wide over this new application of the Golden Rule. " My son, would that really make any differ- ence with the principle ? If I have reason to think a person might not like me to do thus and so if he knew it, am I necessarily freed from blame because he may not happen to know of it?" Ben whistled an entire bar of " Hail, Colum- bia," and broke off suddenly to say, "I beg your pardon, mother, but that is what I think I'll call a unique notion." " We'll sleep over all the notions," said Mrs. Bryant ; " we may have clearer ideas in the morning. Bring the Bible, Daisy dear ; it is time you, at least, were asleep." The next day Daisy settled the question. But the way she came to do it is a long story. It began by the Sutherlands going to Europe unexpectedly. The son of the house reached a foreign port to remain for several months, and sent them a cablegram to join him. Instead of closing their handsome house they rented it to acquaintances of their uncle's in New York ■ r I !5' I I til .A ■u ^f4>i I p Jl 230 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. — people who wanted to leave their town house at this season in order that extensive repairs might be begun on it, and who were not ready to go to their house in tlie country because the season of mud and rain would soon be upon them. They called this good-sized town a sort of half-way stopping place, and were glad to get into the Sutherland home, and were glad to hear of an excellent clear starcher and ironer almost as soon as they reached the town, " Perhaps she can do the children's clothes decently," said Mrs. Irving, the married daugh- ter. "They haven't looked fit to be seen since I left home." " What is the name of the woman ? " her mother asked. "I don't remember. Brown, I think, or some such name. Dennis said be knew her and would leave word for her to call and see about it." Dennis was Dr. Sutherland's coachman, who was going to serve these new people while his master was gone to Europe. So, because of all these things, Mrs. Bryant sat the next evening in the little room ofE the DAtaT AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 231 kitchen at Dr. Sutherland's, and talked with Mrs. Irving about the children's dresses, and waited to give her opinion on the probable washing quali.les of one which had been sent for, that she might examine it. By her side stood Daisy, a fair little girl as one reed wish to see, with a face an sweet, Mrs. Irving thought, as any she had ever looked upon. She kept looking at the child while she talked, and thinking how sweet she was. Suddenly she spoke to her : — "Would you like to go into the hall, little ^1, and see my children? They are all there with the kitten. They have a new white kitten for a pet, and are nearly wild over it," she ex- plained to Mrs. Bryant. "My little sister is with them, and she is about your child's age, I think. Would she like to go in and see their new kitten ? Now that I think of it, my Lora has on a dress I would like to ask you about, BO we will all go.** And the door was opened into that beautiful wide hall, which was large enough for a recep- tion-room, and where the children were at this moment engaged in trying to make a frisky white kitten with a blue ribbon about its neck, fi' --'^ ' 1 '' ■ r ^ , • 5 ^h m it r; ( \ i- *» Mi I '>32 3f /.«?. im 1 J 234 MI88 DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Dee Dnnmore," but here she was stopped by Dee, laughing and kissing her. ** Why, you dear little Daisy, don't call me * Miss Dee.' I'm just a little girl, you know, like you ; and you needn't take the trouble to say the last name every time ; I'm just Dee, and you are Daisy, though I've always called you Daisy Isabelle, and that sounds the most natural." "You interrupted Daisy, my dear," said Judge Dunmore. "I was going to ask you," began Daisy, *' and I mean I want to ask your father, too, if you would mind — that is, if you had objec- tions to my using the name of my doUie in the firm — for advertising, you know? Mother thought it would not be right, because you might not like it, and we didn't ever expect to have a chance to ask you, so we thought it would have to be given up. But that was only yesterday ; and now, since you are here, I thought I might ask about it." "Exactly so," said Judge Dunmore, trying his best not to let his eyes twinkle with fun. Nothing more delicious than this little bit of gravity had ever before come into his library. DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 235 it " You are right, I am sure, but we don't quite understand. Dee and I. What 'firm' is it, and what is to be advertised, and how -^'in the dollio help?" ** Why, you see, sir, i'm going into business ; we need to, to help along, and there are so many dollies that we planned to have a fancy store and sell them. I didn't quite like it — I mean I didn't like it at all — at first," spoken with drooping eyes in which there were tears very near to falling, "because it seemed like selling one's children ; but Miss Webster thought it would be right, and mother talked with me ; and dollies haven't souls, you know, they are really very different from * truly ' chil- dren, and mother said that I could have a * tenth ' from them to give to some liitle girls who were poorer than I, and that of course I need never, never sell Miss Dee Dunmore, nor my dear Arabella Aurelia, and so," drawing a long sigh, heavily burdened with responsibility and care, " we planned it, because it seemed to be right and best." There was no twinkle in Judge Dunmore's eyes this time, unless the shining of something very like a tear could make it. He had to wait " )» t I) ■ 1 H 236 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. a moment before speaking and clear his voice, which even then was slightly husky. "That sounds like a very sensible and alto- gether practicable plan, in every way worthy of you," he said gravely. "Of course dollies have not souls, and of course they should be made to help in every proper way; I'm heartily with you, but do not yet understand how Dee's little dollie namesake can help. She is not to be sold, you say?" " O, no, sir, never ! " said Daisy ickly. " I couldn't ever do that, and my i. ..icr thinks so, too." " Certainly," said the Judge, " we must have all proper respect for even dollies' feelings; but how then ? Do you understand it. Dee ? '* turning to his little daughter. « Why, you see, sir," began Daisy again, " it is like this. The business must be advertised, or how would people know there was a store ? And Ben, that's my brother, made a copy of a — a dodger, I think they call them, which had my name in, and told about the business, but he did not like it — did not like my name on it, I mean — he said I was very little to have it tossed about the streets, though I don't see DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 237 r I what hurt it could do, just a name made of ink," and Daisy stopped to consider this per- plexity for a moment. " But that was the way Ben felt," she continued, " and mother seemed to understand it. " Then Line thought of a plan ; it was this : to put * Miss Dee Dunmore ' on the dodger — her name, I mean, not her picture — and have the business conducted in her name, because she is really a sort of queen among the dollies, Ben said, and he thought it would be appro- priate ; but mother thought of a trouble right away. She said we mubt remember that my dollie's name belonged to a * truly ' little girl, and if Ben did not like his sister's name to be put on * dodgers* and things, he must remember that perhaps the little girl's folks would ieel just so, and that we hadn't a right to use the name, on account of the Golden Rule. Ben did not quite understand it, because he said we only wanted to use the doUie's name, but mother said that was the way we ought to feel, and so " — Here Daisy came to a full pause. She was not accustomed to talking to strangers; she was very shy of strangers, but this explanation , !(il.; : 1 ■ i! } 1 ^* t '',) ' ' 1 \ ' 1 5 ! i II.' /^^ I! 238 MISS DEE DUNMOItE BBYANT. she felt had to be made. Now that it was made as well as she knew how, she was very uncertain what to say next, and was growing exceedingly uncomfortable, the more so as Judge Dunmore was looking at her in a queer way and saying nothing. As for D&e, she looked from the one to the other and did not seem to know what to say. At last the Judge roused himself. " So that is the way your mother argues, is it ? She must be an unusual woman ; no won- der the daughter is" — But he seemed to decide not to finish that part of the sentence, and commenced again. " I begin to under- stand it. So jou want Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant to go into business? An excellent plan. Give my compliments to *Line,' and tell him I think so. But you did not explain who Line was. Is that another brother ? " " No, sir ! that is my sister Caroline ; we call her * Line ' for a love name. She planned it." "I beg her pardon. She planned well; I have no sort of objection, on the contrary I so entirely approve that I shall take it upon my- c^lf to have a small window sign painted with DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 239 my lady's name, and the nature of the bnsiness in which she is about to engage. You see, my child, what you said about dollies is very true. However much their owners may love and care for them, they have not, after all, souls, and this may be remembered in our treatment of them. Now although your Dee Dunmorc bears a part of my daughter's name, she is not after all my Dee Dunmore, but yours, and there is that infinite difference between the two of which we have been speaking. In the second place, although she has the name of my daugh- ter, she has also your surname, which is mi;ch more important. Don't you see how it is? Suppose a family named Smith lived near to your mother's house." " They do, said Daisy gravely, "just around the comer from us." "Do they indeed? Then that is so much the better for ray illustration. Let us suppose, then, that they have a little girl and choose to name her * Daisy Bryant Smith.' That is per- fectly reasonable, and you could not blame them for wanting to borrow your name to place before their little daughter's surname, neither would there be any danger of confusing m ■ t ■ fv ,. I'M 1 ' i!' f* I !>40 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYA]!^T. the two, for sensible people would have no trouble in understanding that Daisy Bryant and Daisy Bryant Smith were two different persons ; but suppose, for any reason, the family had grown tired of the name of Smith and decided to borrow your surname and call themselves Bryant; that would be a very dif- ferent matter, and might cause you a good deal of trouble, and in order to bear it patiently you would want to be assured that they had somehow secured the right to do such a thing. Do you understand?" "O, yes, sir!" Daisy i;aid with infinite gravity, " I understand, and I thpnk you very much ; but all the same, if you did not quite like me to use the name in this way I would ratlier not do it, because I know I am a little bit glad that the Smith baby is named Char- lotte Ann Smith, instead of Daisy Bryant Smith." Whereupon the Judge threw himself back in his chair and laughed loud and long, to the great discomfiture of Daisy, who had no idea what he could be laughing at. Nevertheless, the matter was finished to the satisfaction of all. Two days thereafter, DAISY AS A BUSINESS WOMAN. 241 there hung in Mrs. Bryant's front window a handsomely decorated sheet of cardboard, making in gilt letters the following announce- ment: DOLL EMPORIUM. Season ooens on Saturday at 10 o'clock. Miss Dee Dxjnmoke Bryant, l*roprietor. 1 liJk i-l^-Si ' i <1 !• '■ \ : • ^ . j ? 1 i! l! ji i x,l '"( . ^' i \ .i '^ ■ j , i 248 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Frightened as Dee was, and 8till trembling 80 that she could not walk, she could hardly help a faint smile over the ashnmed and utterly discouraged way in which Ebon, with slow steps and drooping tail turned, on receiving these orders, and walked away in the opposite direction from which he had been going. " He minds," she said faintly. " O, yes ! Ebon always minds. He is a good friend of mine ; I don't often have to scold him. It 'A really the Smith boys who need the scolding this time, the young scamps I " • "What is all this?" asked a quick voice behind them. "My daughter, what is the matter?" "O, papa!" said Dee, making one spring from Ben's protecting arm into her father's. " Hold me close, papa. I can't stop trembling yet, though I know there is no danger now ; this good boy would not let them hurt me. O, papa I " And then Dee began to cry. It was Ben who had to explain, which he did very briefly, sparing Ebon's feelings ai* he could, but not sparing the Smith boys. He said little about himself, but Dee between her : ElION ''LENDS A UAND." 249 sobs helped out the story in that respect. "And, papM, he came across the street fast, and called the dog, and made him take his dreadful tongue away." Here Dee shuddered. "And O, papa! I should have died, I'm almost sure, i£ he hadn't come that very second." It was really quite embarrassing. Dee was so grateful, and lier father, who used less words, seemed also so very glad that bis little daugh- ter had found a friend, that Ben, who felt that he was being thanked for almost nothing, was in blushing haste to get away. "I must go on," he said quickly. "Could the little girl walk with me to where she is going, sir? I will take care of her." "Thank you," said .ludge Dunraore, smiling; " I came out to join her in her walk, but I am obliged to you for yonr thoughtful offer. Do you know who I am, my friend?" " Yes, sir ; I think you are Judge Dunmore. I have seen you on the street." " Then you are better off than I, for I do not know your name. Will you tell my daugh- ter and me who we have to thank for thoughtful kindness and care this morning?" " My name," said Ben, straightening himself , - 1 i i4 a 250 MT8S DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. as he unconsciously did whenever he spoke the name, for which he had a good deal of respect, " is Benjamin Foster Bryant ; but I don't want any thanks ; I haven't done anything." Almost before he had finished his sentence, Dee had broken away from her father, excite- ment and pleasure rapidly taking the place of fright, and dashed over to Ben's side again. " Why, papa ! why, papa ! " she said, " it is Daisy's good brother Ben ! Daisy says he is the best and dearest brother in all the world, and I'm sure he is ; I'm sure of it." " I don't doubt it in the least," said Judge Dunmore, langhing heartily. "We are very glad to make your acquaintance, Benjamin, and [;J \d to learn that you belong to little Daisy, whom we love. Now I shall know where to look for you, and will not detain you longer." Ben went away, wondering why he would care to look for him, and wondering just what he ought to tell Professor Kelley about those scamps of boys, and wondering what Miss Webster would say when she heard of Ebon's adventure. It was this little incident which made Judge EBON ''LENDS A HAND.' 251 Dunmore seek not Ben, but Ben's acquaint- ances, and ask some questions. Among others he chanced upon Ben's former employer. " Doesn't amount to much," said that gentle- man, with a significant toss of his head. "What is his distinctive quality?" Judge Dunmore asked. « Shirking." Whereupon the Judge raised his eyebrows in surprise. " I should not have supposed that," he said thoughtfully. "He seemed to me a boy who had a good deal of energy." "Energy enough, only he doesn't like to apply it to steady work. He had a good place with me, and I would have done well by him ; I meant to, and what did he do but up and leave me on short notice ; no other place in view, either; hasn't had a place since, and won't be likely to get one very soon. Good places are not common for youngsters with no more training for work than he has had, espe- cially if they cannot stick when they get them." " But what reason did he give for such an extraordinary proceeding ? He must have had some explanation to offer." Mr. Sewell shmgged his shoulders and il :^ ]tii .!» i <• ,. il I i. IK 252 MISS DEE DUNMOTtE BUY ANT. laughed. "The queerest excuse you ever heard of," he said, "and the flimsiest; of course I took it for what it was worth, and knew that it ought to be spelled for '1-a-z-i- n.e-s-s,' for that was what it meant. Why, he took a notion to make believe scared at an innocent-looking cider barrel which stands in the corner of my back room. He had nothing to do with it — never had to wait on customers, even, unless it was now and then a boy ; but all of a sudden he got up an idea that selling cider wasn't the correct thing, and off he went." "Did he indeed?" said Judge Dunmore, with a smile on his face and a good deal of pleasure in his voice; "that was certainly a very unusual step for a boy of his age. Where did you say you thought I might find him?" " So I told him — putting on airs and making himself out wiser and better than his elders. Why, I think you will find him hanging around that Mr. Reynolds who is here canvassing. He has a room at the Widow Kedwin's, on Second Street, and Ben has got bewitched over some fool machine or other which he carries about with him ; wastes half of his time there, I guess. It is a great shame, and iim EBON ''LENDS A HAND: 253 his mother a widow and strujjcjlins: to make a living. I was willing to do well by the boy, as I said, if he hadn't been such a born idiot." "Good-morning," said Judge Dunra* re, lift- ing his hat in a courteous way, and moviag down the street with rapid step. It happened that he was particularly interested in just such " idiots " as Ben Bryant had been. His next call was on Mr. Reynoldn, though Ben was not there. He had been sent to the express office with an important package. Mr. Reynolds was, however, in his bicycle dress, making ready for a long trip. The type- writer was packed, and in fact it was that which Ben, with sorrowful heart, was carrying to the express office. Little Lora Kedwin and Ebon came together to announce Judge Dunraore. "Good-morning," said Mr. Reynolds, glanc- ing around. "Lora, I don't believe I can receive you and Ebon this morning ; I'm very busy. It's too bad ; I'd like nothing better than a frolic with both of you, but I must get these papers done in time for the noon train." "We didn't come for ourselves," Lora ex- plained, "we came to shOTV a gentleman ih^ WB.y ; he wants you," '11 1 ; i. ^i i' ■ f " u :.,) ■ i SM JflSS DEE DffNMOnB JiRTANT. i; "Ah! I beg your pardon," said Mr. Rey- nolds, rising in haste to meet Judge Dunmore, whose handsome face now came into view. "He is a splendid young fellow," said Mr. Reynolds heartily, as soon as he heard the object of Judge Dunmore's call. "I never met a boy in whom I was more interested. He is smart, too, as well as faithful and in earnest. I've been uncommonly busy since I came to this town, and that boy has helped me more than the young man of about my own age who used to travel with me ever did in the same length of time, and he understood the business, too ; of course it was all new to Ben. Poor fellow, his heart is heavy this morning; he has just taken his treasure on a wheelbarrow and trudged away to the depot." "Does he know how to manage a type- writer?" Judge Dunmore asked, after he had asked several other questions. " He certainly does ; better than some who have had a half-year's drill ; he is uncommonly quick at taking up new things, as well as uncommonly persevering. Why, he made a board imitation of the lettering, and practiced on it evenings at home ; the consequence was, EBON ''LENDS A HAND,'' 855 the next time he came he astonished me by making the machine go like lightning. I call that an original idea." " It seems to me he ought to be in school/* Judge Dunmore said, in a reflective tone. " That's exactly where he ought to be, and there is a good school here where he could do well if he had a chance. The girl ought to be there, too, but I suspect it can hardly be man- aged at present." "The girl," interrupted his caller, "what girl — little Daisy? There is time enough for her ; she may better play with her dollies a year or two yet, than be confined to the school-room." "No, no! I don't mean her. I mean the older sister ^thirteen or so, perhaps — a smart girl, and a constant companion and friend of Ben's ; he doesn't like to do anything in which *Line,' as he calls her, doesn't have a share. Why, she worked at this finger-board with him until actually the first time she saw the type-writer she sat down to it like an old hand, and wrote with remarkable correctness and a good degree of speed." "So there are two of them, eh? There must be a somewhat unusual mother." (I l:" m Ml Mi; M 1 1 1 V 1 ,i 1 l' 'i ' ' i 1 ■ i i '.\ i ■ ili f.< ! It 266 MISS DEE DUNMOFE BRYANT. " O, there is ! My landlady says she is ' one of 'em,' which seems to be a mysterious way of conveying high praise." He laughed with his mouth and his eyes, and Judge Dunmore joined him merrily. Then Mr. Reynolds began to talk again. "Yes, there are certainly two of them, and they ought to be in school ; but the mother is poor — has a little place burdened with debt, I am told — and these two have to stay at home and help all they can ; besides, Miss Webster tells me it is a question of clothes, though I think she has some scheme in mind to manage that part. I have a little plan, but I don't know that I can carry it out for years yet, and by that time it will not be needed, for I hope to see Ben in Congress or somewhere, by the time I'm able to help him. I'm young, you 866, and have had quite a tussle for ways and means myself." Here his frank eyes met Judge Danmore's keen gray ones, and that gentleman nodded sympathetically. " So you see my little plan, though a good one, I do believe, will have to wait." ' • -^ • "Perhaps not. Suppose you tell me about \X» I'm interested ^n the young people; my •t M so 3 fi$ Hi ! -1 i, I'- • f 1: i '4 i i ' a i " I' 1 ;«h'^ ;l! hJi .■•s rV EBON "LENDS A HAND." 257 little daughter and Miss Daisy are great friends, besides, I owe young Benjamin him- self a vote of thanks for a bit of work he did for me only yesterday." Whereupon he told the story of the Smith boys and Ebon. Then Mr. Reynolds talked eagerly, describing his "little plan." "I'm pretty sure it would work," he said, after giv- ing much information, and answering all ques- tions. "I meant to try to work it up in some way if I stayed here, but this order from head- quarters to return to New York at once, has upset a good many of my schemes, as well as Ben's. You would have felt sorry for the boy if you could have seen his face when he was getting the type-writer ready to travel. He feels that he is bidding good-by to a friend." As Mr. Reynolds returned from showing his caller to the door, a short time afterwards, he stopped to pat Ebon on the head and say con- fidentially, "You mustn't kiss the girls, old fellow, unless they themselves ask it. Don't you know that? However, we won't scold you this time, for I shouldn't wonder if you had made a pretty good morning's work out of it." And he laughed his bright, glad laugh. SI< i'i '.« '"■ 'it m \i ^ :< .1 I v\ 1 1 \ i CHAPT3ER XVTl, A "business transaction. If "D USINESS prospered with Daisy. It really -*^ astonished Mrs. Bryant to find that from the first there was a brisk market for dolls. "One would think that all the little children in town had been forgotten or neglected until now," she said, looking on one morning with a puzzled air, while a woman from Factory Lane, whom she knew only by sight, carefnlly selected two neatly dressed, red-cheeked mis^s as birthday offerings for "the twins," a^id counted out with great satisfaction her silver pieces in payment. The woman overheiurd her, and looked up with a smile. "I didn't forget mine, ma'am, nor neglect them exactly, though they never had a bonghten doUie in their lives, and they will be six to- morrow; but you see the way of it is that I never had a cent of money to spend on luoh 2S8 ■ A "BV8INE88 TRANSACTION." 26C i!! things, not once since they were born, though many*B the time I've walked up and down the street before the store windows and picked out what I would like to buy them, and wished and counted, and shook my head, and been that silly that I cried a tear or two because I knew I mustnH do it. You can't call that ' neglect- ing,* you know, though they are to have their first boughten dollies to-morrow. I think the one in the pink sash is a trifle the prettier, ma'am, don't you ? " This last to Daisy, who gravely considered it while her mother contmued the conversation. "And are times easier with you now, Mrs. Dobbs?" The questioner's voice was sympathy itself. Her own sharp experience had led her to have always a warm heart for the poor. Mrs. Dobbs' face flushed slightly, and she hesitated a mo- ment. " There's not much * easy ' to speak of," she said at last. "We have none of us starved, *' so far, and maybe we won't, though the pros- pect ahead ain't none of the brightest. Being " a widow yourself, ma'am, you don't know how 'A bard it is. It's the drink that makes the trouble ; when he Leeps sober there isn't a m 'li* :::tn if' ii 260 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT, better provider in the town; and he is that fond of the twins that he will get up in the night to see if they are safe covered, if he hasn't been drinking ; but it seems that he can't pass Ilogan's saloon without going in; and pay-day, when he comes from the office, he has to pass right by the door, and Hogan, he keeps on the lookout for pay-day — he's sharp, Hogan is — and so it goes. There ought to be some kind of a law against them places, don' ou think, ma'am ? " Mrs. Bryant's cheeks were red now ; they had been pale for a moment, then had flushed crimson. So this poor woman really thought that she, " being a widow," was too well off to sympathize ! What terrible burdens were these which made even death seem a relief! She could not trust herself to speak her opinion of " them places," but Line did. "Yes, there ought, Mrs. Dobbs, and mother thinks so, too ; and tL << CHAPTER XVIII. >» "YOU WAIT AND SEE. T jXE was vvaKiriiijjj the tea dishes, Daisy was ■^ ^'^ii'g I'Hlleutly to sell a pink cashmere (i<>:ii; to !i siM.'ill niius for her small dollie, and V. as li'i'iir.g ihe customer very hard to suit. Jhm v,a8 waiting for Line, and drying the R|)ooiis niid plates while he waited, and the express wagon passed the end window. "There goes the express," said Line. "How I wish it would stop here; it hasn't stopped since Daisy's children came. I never had an express package in my life." " I'll send you one as soon as I can bring it to pass," said Ben, carefully drying a plate as he spoke. "Are you particular at aHl as to what shall be in it?" Line laughed. "I don't know that I am," pho said, "almost anything that could possibly (!0ine in a i)ackage would be acceptable. But 2/4 " YOU WAIT AND SEE." 275 I I do think, Ben, it would be real fun to live as Miss Webster does. Why, she has an express almost every day — the loveliest three-cornered bundles, and all sorts of bundles." "Be wii ^ to change places with her, and sit there and wait foi bundles?" Ben asked significantly. Line shivered. "Of course not," she said promptly. "Doesn't it scorn too hard that she cannot walk at all? And yet she is the very happiest person I ever knew, I really think," and Line's face took on a shade of gravity over some thought which she seemed not to care to express. Ben asked no questions; he almost knew what she was thinking of, and although he talked freely with Line on every other sub- ject, for some reason he too chose to be silent here. In fact, he changed the whole tone of the conversation quickly, with a vague fear that Line would probe what he was not yet ready to talk about. "Let's plan for school next fall. Line, with- out any fail." Line in her astonishment dropped the bowl she was washing so suddenly, that a drop of the dish-water plashed into Ben's face. " Plan i;t fiu IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A ^ .^A ■tt Itt 122 £f 1^ 12.0 I.I !U& i'-2^.rMi4 ^ 6" .. Fhotograjjiic Sciences CcHporalion 23 WB T MAIN STMIT VnMTIt,N.Y. MSM (71*)t7a-4S03 ,^ 1 276 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. for school! Why, how can we go to school next fall any better than we did this winter?" "I don't know the *how* yet," said Ben sturdily. " What I say is, let's plan for it ; it is time we went ; I really don't see how we are going to get along any longer without going, and if we can't, why, we might as well be making our plans that way." Line laughed, a little bitterly, perhaps, at this. Her cheeks were redder than before, but she went on with her bowl-washing, even wait- ing to say, "I don't see why scalded milk wants to stick so ! " before she made any more direct response. Then she said, "You are as queer a boy, Ben Bryant, as I ever knew I Here you talk about planning, and about what we cannot get along without, as though all we had to do was to decide that a thing must be done, and get ready for it." "Well, isn't that so?" Ben asked. «Don*t we believe, on the whole, that if a thing ought . tc be done it will be ? And if it is to be, of course we ought to get ready for it." "Mother believes so," said Line, low-toned and thoughtful again, and Ben felt that he was edging yer^ near to the subject ^bput wh|ch he n%\ " YOU WAIT AND SMB. >> «t was not ready to talk, and was much relieved that there came just then a queer shuffling noise at the street door, which made Line ask a Btaitled question — " What was that ? " " I don't know, I am sure ; sounds as though some one was trying to make a call, and had forgotten how to knock." But even as he spoke there was a distinct "tap, tap, tap," not on the doer, but appar- ently on the step, yet it sounded like an imita- tion knock. "It is a tramp," said Line, still startled; "there have been two along to-day. What shall we do, Ben ? The door isn't locked, and mother is out, you know." " Why, we'll open the door and see what is wanted," Ben said boldly. "It is not likely that any one wants to hurt us. I'll take care of you, Line." So without more ado he stepped toward the door, a trifle glad, if the truth must be told, i that he was the sole protector of the family at a moment when there might be some sort of an intruder. Sure enough there was! Line gave a scream the moment she saw him, but not of fright. v:.l;^ A\ 278 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. "It is Ebon!" she declared. "O, Ben! he knocked with his tail. And he has something in his mouth — a package of some sort. Ben, he is an expressman, and has stopped at our door." "It looks like it," said Ben. "Come in, sir; happy to see you. How do you do ? Shake hands, old fellow. What have you here, some- thing for us?" He bent down to the delighted dog, who promptly yielded up the string w a which the package was securely tied. "It must be for me," said Ben, "or Ebon would not give it up. He has been told to bring it to me. I wonder what it can be. Perhaps Miss Webster has sent you some work, and sent Ebon to me, because she thought you might be afraid of him." "Slie knows I'm not afraid of Ebon," said Line, stooping to pat him. " Nice old fellow. Shake hands. Now give me a kiss. You need not be afraid of getting into trouble by kissing me. Ebon and I are very intimate friends, Ben. Why don't you open your package and see what is wanted ? " But Ben seemed to be having all he was capable of managing in studying the outside *'TOU WAIT AND SEE.** 279 of tbe package. "There is something written," he had said, as he stepped toward the lamp. There he stood staring at it, his cheeks ablaze, and his eyes shining. " Listen to this," he said at last. «*Eboii Webster pays his respects to Ben- jamin Foster Bryant, and would like to have him accept the inclosed as a slight token of i his gratitude in standing up for Ebon when he tried to offer courtesies to a little friend, and was so cruelly misunderstood.' "That is every word there is. Line; no name signed, and I don't know the writing ; it isn't Miss Webster's. What do you suppose can be in the package, and who sent it ? " '*I should guess that Judge Dunmore sent it,'* Line said, laughing at her brotiter's excited tones and blazing face, "and I should think the quickest way to find what was in the package would bo to open it and see. It is certainly for you; Ebon gave it to you, and your full name is on it. Miss Webster must know about , it, for she asked me only yesterday what your middle name was. Open it, Ben, quick, before Daisy comes in; perhaps there will be some- thing in it for a surprise for her." I p( 1 • ■ '1 . 1 I { 280 MISS LEE DUN MORE BUY ANT. By this time Ben's tremhlinur firiirers were tugging .'It the strong cord. It yielded at last to skillful nianagi'nient, then layer after layer of )»aj)er was unwra|>])ed. "It Jnust be some- thing very ])reci<»us,'' Line 8aicned — there were so few bunt a fine hard-wood box, highly polished and fitted with a nickel plate sjiring lock, came into view, and their excitement and curiosity were greater than before. "What a pretty thing," said Line. "Do you know liow to open it, Ben ? There must be something very cunning inside." "Yes," said Ben. "Mr. Reynolds had a box something like it, which opened with a secret spring, and he showed me how." Whereupon he touched the spring. The lid flew open, disclosing the queerest little paper packages, which being unwrapped gave Line DO more light than she had before. *• YOU WAIT AND SEE.** 281 ti " Wliat in the world can it be?" she said. Il.ive you the leaBt notion, Ben? It makes m<> iliink of the telegra|»h office; I don't know why, I'm sure. Can it be something to use, to work w ith, you know ? Ben, it isn't any kind of a writinn;-mnchine, is it?" The sympathetic voice had sunken to a wliisper, and then hushed into respectful silence; for Ben, his fingers trembling so that he could scarcely work, was yet working with lightning speed, and the blood was racing back into his face, reaching to his very hair. It was evident that he knew or guessed what the "thing" was, and knew what to do with it. Not a word did he speak, but in less time than it takes me to write the words, he had unlocked the neat little creature from its box, set it on the table, adjusted a curious contrivance that Line begged him not to touch, lest he might put it out of order or get hurt, dived into his pocket for a piece of paper, drawn it forth, slipped it under a tiny roller, taken an innocent-looking knob in charge, and drawn forth from the small object a series of little ticking sounds which were to him sweeter than any music he ever heard. Then, drawing out the paper as suddenly as he .1^ ? ; I ■■; !■ i < Vf i M ? ■ ! :' >, 'v\ »;; 1 |5 , r r f 1 » 1) ' 'i ; :1 r ill i^i ufflSS 1)EK DVNMORE BRYANT. had slipped it in, he held it before Line's aston- ished eyes, and said, in a voice in which emo- tion and exultation blended very queerly, "That is what it is, Line." And there, printed, before her very eyes, in neat, clear characters, were the words, " Caroline Foster Bryant." She with- drew her fascinated eyes as soon as she could, and fixed them on her brother's face. " It's a type-writer," he said, speaking huskily now. "A little brand-new type-writer, and it's for me ! It said so on the wrapper, didn't it ? O, Line!" There was great excitement in the Bryant home for the remainder of the evening. Daisy deserted her store altogether, only leaving the curtain drawn, to be sure of seeing any possi- ble customer, and was allowed to print the names of seven of the dollies on the wonder- ful machine. She picked out the letters with laborious care ; but Ben, who discovered in less than five minutes that the ones most used were gathered into a center of about an inch square, | exclaimed in glee that he almost knew its letter- ing already. " Only look, Line, how it is arranged. Here are *and of and * there' and Uhis,' and I don't " YOU WAIT AND SEE.'' 288 know how many other words which one uses all the time, grouped in this tiny white center. Here is * do ' and ' it ' and * is * and * her/ See ? " " Yes," said Line, " I see ; the vowels are all there, so of course they are the ones which are repeated constantly; and the capital of each letter is just above it, all the way along. Do you notice that?" *''Sure enough," Ben said, taking his eyes from the machine long enough to bestow a glance of admiration on his sister. "What a girl you are to see into things. Line ! I never show you anything new but you make me wish you could go right straight into school and stay there until you graduated." "Or go in a balloon to the raoon to study astronomy," Line said, laughing gaily to smother a sigh which she was aetermined should not be heard. " You are certainly the wildest boy to wish that I know. It is fortunate that when you go to doing, you come down from the clouds and show good hard sense." " You wait until some of the wishes come to pass," Ben said, with a wise nod of his head. Meantime, Daisy had come closer, and was making grave investigation. ! ( I i ! I '.' : 2d4 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, "Where are the fowls?" she asked, at last. " Where are what ? " "The fowls. I thought Line said the * fowls' were all here in this little white place." Ben went off into a tempest of laughter, while Line hastened to explain. "Vowels, darling, not fowls. Don't you know what vowels are?" "No," said Daisy gravely, "I never heard of them. Where are they, and what do you do with them ? " « How did you think any fowls got into so little a space as this, Daisilinda?" Ben asked, his eyes twinkling with fun. This little sister was so quaint and delicious, that Ben could never resist the temptation to cross-question, even though she looked unusually grave, as she did just now, over the laugh raised at her expense. "I did not know," she said, raising reproach- ful eyes to his face, « but I could think of some way. There were some people once, you know --very smart people too — who used to make pictures to stand for words, and I thought per- haps there were some little bits of pictures on " YOU WAIT AND SHE.'* 265 this writing-machine that meant long words, and took up less room than they woukl." " That's an idea," said Ben. " Where's M, I wonder? Line, do you see M? Oh! here it is, not an inch away from my finger," and he ticked down an M in the sentence he was writing. "What people were so cute as that, Daisilinda, and what i)ictures did they use?" * "Ever so many j)ictures, and the real things; sent them, you know, to talk for them. Oh ! it was a long time ago — three or four hundred years before Jesus came down here to live. There was a king named Alex, who was taxed to pay a thousand gold eggs to another king. Do you know the story, Ben ? " " Not a bit," said Ben gravely, printing away on his type-writer the while. " Tell it, Daisi- linda." « Why, Alex said he wouldn't, and the other king — his name was Darius — sent a bat and a ball, and a bag of little seeds to Alex. Now , what do you suppose they meant ? " " Haven't the least idea," Ben said, glancing up with a perplexed face, "Do you know, Line?" i i ■J i, '. I • U 186 MI8H DEE DUN MO HE liRYANT. "No," said Line. "Is tbw a ina i\ 808 MISS DEE DUN MORE BUT ANT, ■ ,t know, and I f^iippose that makes the difference. Daisy, let me tell you about it just as papa told me. Suppose you bad a dollar and bought ten dollies with it — that was the way papa said — they would have to be very cheap, common little dollies, you know, but they do have ten- cent dollies; well, end you dressed them up and made them look pretty, so that they were worth twenty cents apiece, and you sold them all. Then you would have two dollars. And suppose you put twenty cents of that money away for * tenths ' — I always give * tenths ' myself, only I give it in money ; that is easier than to do it with dollies, I think, don't you? — and then supj)ose you laid away twenty cents more for a fund to use whenever you had to buy things for yourself, you know, and with all that was left you bought more dollies. You would have, let me see — papa said sixteen dollies, I think — yes, I am sure he did — and you would sell them, and make more money and divide it, and buy some more, and keep on doing that, and by and by you would have a large fund. Don't you see? The name of that is * capital.' I don't know why, I am sure, but that is what they call it, and it grows.'' I f« »*r- GETTING READY FOR THE FAIR. 30d "But I cannot wait for it to grow," said dis- tressed Daisy. "I need the money right away — all I have made and a great deal more if I could get it." "Then you will have to fail," said Dee solemnly, but not without an undertone of satisfaction. There was something very busi- ness-like and interesting in the idea of a failure in business. " I know how they do that, too, Daisy. When they can't go on with their business and pay their bills, you know, why, they just have to fail." "Not always," said Miss Webster, who felt it was quite time to come to the relief of her Borrowful-eyed Daisy, whose lip was beginning to quiver; "sometimes there are friends who assume the liabilities, Dee. Did you ever hear that word used ? Daisy, my dear, can you tell us how much money is needed to be secured before you can make any further investment ? " .» Daisy turned grave eyes upon her and spoke * slowly. "I think I have been very silly. Miss Webster. I did not think it all out before- hand. I do not understand business very well, any way — not nearly so well as Dee does — and I wanted to help about the mortgage ; that was I i i;^; // il 810 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT, why I went into business. I thought I could make a good deal towards it — enough so that perhaps mother could pay what they call the interest right away, so it wouldn't worry her any more, but it seems it takes a very great deal of money. And then it begins growing again, the interest does, or coming again; I don't understand it, but that was what Ben said, and there doesn't seem to be any way out of it." Poor little woman of business I There were tears glistening in her eyes by this time, and her voice broke almost before she reached that last word. "Mortgage!" echoed Dee respectfully. She had heard of those creatures only in the dim distance ; she had immense respect for them, as creatures of great power, capable of causing an immense amount of trouble. She knew that men who were closeted with her father in his private office by the hour, sometimes used the word in the gloomiest of tones; if Daisy had to do with m.ortgages, she was getting beyond her depth. Privately, she resolved to consult her father at the first opportunity. **I understand," said Miss Webster cheerily. OETTtNQ READY FOR THE FAIR. 311 i " and you want to save the thirty dollars you have made towards paying the interest; that is a very thoughtful little woman of business, certainly. But then, there is really no oppor- tunity for failing, because, you see, you are not in debt." "O, yes, ma'am!" said Daisy earnestly, "mother is; that is the word that makes the mortgage." " Yes, I know ; but I mean you as a business woman are not in debt. That is, it is not the doll business which has made the troi»ble. What we need is a little more capital, without investing that already made. How would it do to have a fair?" "A fair I" echoed both girls at once. ** Yes ; a dolls* fair. A few years ago there was one in Boston. It was held in a large room, and hundreds upon hundreds of dollies came to be exhibited; there were six prizes given for the most tastefully dressed dollies, and the neatest sewing. I have a photograph ^ of the room taken after all the dollies were arranged. Hand me that large book, Dee, at your right, and I will show you the photograph." For the next fifteen minutes both girls were m\ n 812 MISS LEE DUN MORE BRYANT. absorbed in a study of the picture, with its endless display of dollies of every size and style. Then they began to ask questions. " What did they have a dolls' fair for?" "Who sent all the dollies?" "What did they do with them afterwards?" "Who gave prizes?" and, "What were the prizes?" "How did they make any money by it?" "How could we get up a dollies' fair?" This last required a long answer. The entire question was thoroughly discussed. In fact, the short spring afternoon was drawing toward dusk before everything was settled ; but it was settled at last, subject of course to the approval of Daisy's mother. There was to be a dollies' fair in that wvx town. It was to be held in Miss Welister's own rooms. Every little girl in town was to bo invited to ]iut her pet dollie on exliil)iiion. Ten cents WIS to be charged for the ]>rivilege of seeing the dollies, and Daisy and Dee and Daisy's sister Caroline, and Miss Webster herself, were to 8! end all tlieir leisure time duiing the three wee-^s tliat nvist clinic before they were ready for the fair, in ui.i' ing up aiticles for sale^ GKTTISG HEAUY FOli THE FA1H. 818 dolb' h.'its, and slippers, and fans, and parasols, and sacks, and capes, and dresses, and night- gowns. It was certainly a wonderful scheme, and Daisy became so interested in it, and so eager over it, that she almost forgot the mort- gage. Not so Dee ; she had not gotten both arms out of her street sack before she began at her father. " Papa, what is a mortgage ? " "A mortgage?" repeated Judge Dunmore. "Generally speaking, it is a very disagreeable and troublesotne document to the parties chiefly concerned." " I know so much, papa ; but what is it, and what is it for?" "Why," said the Judge, "we will suppose that you owe me ten dollars." «0, dear!" said Dee, "I'm so glad that I don't." "And you cannot pay me at present, but you promise to do so at some future time — say in a year — giving nie interest meantime for the use of my money. You understand about interest?" "Yes, sir," said Dee; "I would have to give you six cents for every dollar ; that would be sixty cents, wouldn't it?" " That would depend on the State you lived » <; J' Ii:| •ffl «14 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. 111. Each State settles vliat shall be its legal or lawful interest. In this State six per cent, is allowed. I might be what is called a sharp man and take advantage of your wanting the money very badly, and say to you that I wouldn't lend it for less than eight or even ten per cent, interest; but I do not believe I will, for that is not an honorable thing to do, so we will say six per cent. : that is, six cents for every hundred, so at the end of a year you will owe me ten dollars and sixty cents. But how am I to be sure that you will have any money to pay me with in a year? I must have what is called security — something to secure me from loss, even though you could not pay the money — so you give me a paper saying that your flower garden, for instance, shall be held as security for me ; that is, I have a mortgage on the garden to the amount of ten dollars and sixty cf^nts. If at the end of a year — pro- vided that is the length of time for which you have borrowed the money — you cannot pay; me, I have a right to sell your garden for whatever I can get. If it is worth fifty dollars and I can get only ten dollars and sixty cents for it, that is your misfortune ; the money is OETTLWO tiKADV FOR TltE FAlli, 3ir> mine, and your garden is gone. Do you understand ? " " But, papa," said Dee, with wide-open eyes, *'I shouldn't think that would be honest, to take a thing which was worth fifty dollars to pay you ten dollars." " That depends," said the Judge. " It might be worth fifty, and yet there be no person able or willing to give that sum, and I might need the money so much as to be obliged to make what people call a forced sale, instead of wait- ing for a better time, when some one would want to buy the garden at a reasonable price ; but I confess that I should not like to own your garden at such a price, when I felt that it ought to be worth to you fifty dollars. At the same time I should have what is called a legal right to do so if I could get no more for it; and very heavy losses are often brought about in this way. Dishonorable people some- times force sales and foreclose mortgages sim- ply for the sake of getting valuable property without paying its full value. Do you under- stand?" "Yes, sir," said Dee, with a sigh. "Papa, do you know what Daisy has that is mort- 816 MlSa DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT. gaged? And will there perhaps be a forced sale on that ? " "Daisy! Has the mouse a mortgage to trouble her ? It must be one of the dollies." Then Dee explained the situation. " Poor child ! " said Judge Dunmore, clearing his voice, which had a husky sound, "it luust be her mother's burdens which she is trying to help carry. She is young to have so heavy an end to lift. I think we must see if we cannot help lift a little, must we not, daughter ? " "O, yes, sir! we are going to. We have been at work all the afternoon planning a dolls' fair. It is to be in Miss Webster's rooms, and will be just lovely ; and we are to make things for sale — Miss Webster and Daisy and Line and I — mamma will help too, I most know she will — and the things will sell, you know, and there's the price of admission. Miss Webster said Daisy and I would have all the work, so we should share the profits; but I mean to give every cent of mine toward the mortgage ; wouldn't you, papa?" "I certainly should," said Judge Dunmore, smiling, and at the same time fumbling in sev- eral pockets in search of a handkerchief. GETTING BEADY FOR THE FAIR. 317 That evening he went out alone, and made his way with a quick step to the street where Mrs. Bryant lived. It happened that she was quite alone. Daisy was asleep for the night, and Line and Ben had gone, at Miss Webster's invitation, to hear about and help plan for the wonderful fair, which was to be an assured fact at as early a dnte as possible. The Judge was in no wise disappointed at finding the mother alone. He had a very delicate piece of busi- ness to carry out, and the fewer listeners there were, the better he felt it would be for the success of his scheme. It was not an easy matter to get at the situation of affairs. Mrs. Bryant was not one who paraded her troubles where there was no occasion, but Judge Dun- more was accustomed to cross-questioning and to careful management. By dint of much tact and patience he made all the discoveries he needed, in addition to those which Dee had given him, and before the steps of Ben and Line were heard at the door, their mother held in her hand a check sufficient to cover principal and interest of that terrible debt, and Judge Dunmore was the owner of the original mort- gage, instead of the man who was bent oq 318 MiaS DEE DUN MORE B BY ANT. securing the valuable lot for less than half its value. ' Only a transfer from one man to another. Mrs. Bryant, at the close of that eventful even- ing, owed exactly as much money as she had when it began, yet her heart was lighter than it had been since the day when she was left a widow to struggle with her burdens. Dee did not understand it at all ; she ques- tioned and cross-questioned her father. '*And you did not give her any money at all ? " " No, indeed, daughter ; it would have been rude to have offered her money. That would have been treating her like a beggar, and she is no beggar." "I don't see why, papa; if I owed a lot of money and you should give me some to pay it with I should be glad, and kiss you and love you harder than ever. I don't see why it wouldn't have been nice in you to give Mr/k Bryant some." Judge Dunmore laughed. ^*The child may take from her father," he said, *' what 3he may not want to from a stranger. Never mind, daughter, you will understand it some day; I could not offer Mrs. Bryant money, because GETTING BEADY FOB THE FAIB. 819 she is a lady, and to have done so under the circumstances would have been rude." **Then you didn't help her a bit, did you, papa?" « She thinks I did." **I don't see how; didn't yon say you took that old mortgage yourself, and doesn't that mean that she owes you?" ** That is what it means, my child." "Then, papa, won't you put it in the fire, •nd not let her give you a cent of money?" **0, no!" said Judge Dunmore, laughing heartily, " that would be a very nnbusiness-like way of doing. It is purely a business transac- tion; she owes me the interest and principal, and is to pay me, instead of the other man, that is all there is to it." ** Then 1 don't see how it is a bit better ! " declared disappointed Dee, who had felt sure that her father would make everything com- fortable for her dear Daisy. Father and mother exchanged smiles, then her mother said, " If my little girl should ever be so unfortunate as to owe anybody, she will find that to owe a good and honorable man who will not take advantage of her trouble in Pi 820 MISS DEE LUNMORE BRYANT. any way, is a great deal pleasanter than to owe a bad man." ** I shall never owe anybody a cent," said the little girl, with emphasis. " I don't like it. I would never want to pay a man some money, every year because I owed him, and yet not have ihe money I gave him pay a cent of the debt ; it doesn't sound right. Just think how Daisy's mother has been paying and paying, every year for ever so long, and hasn't got a bit of it paid. I never want to do that," de- clared Dee. This view of business set her father in laugh- ter again, but he sobered his face to tell her that he hoped she need never owe anybody anything but the debt which the Bible told about, and to assure her that Mrs. Bryant should never be pressed for the payment of the money which she now owed him. " Her fine young son will pay the debt some day," he said. " I haven't a doubt of it, if he lives ; and it is to protect his boyhood, and to help him to be a manly man, that I have taken the mortgage." One thing had happened during that visit of her father's to the Bryant cottage which Dee GETTING READY FOR THE FAIR. 321 did not yet know about, but which had been the source of almost as much joy as the trans- fer of the mortgage. It was after Line and Ben had returned, and the conversation had become general, that the Judge turned to Ben with his question. " Well, sir, how does the little machine behave? Are you able to make anything of it?" " O, yes, sir ! " said Ben, with shining eyes ; " it behaves beautifully ; does everything I toll it to, as fast as it can." And he sprang up and brought his treasure from its corner on one of the "study" shelves, carefully removed the bright-colored bag in which it was hiddea from the dust, and setting it on the table began to write. " Really," said Judge Dunmore, regarding it with keen interest, " you certainly do make it talk fast. I do not see how you can have acquired such skill in so short a time. Then it is really of })ractical value ? I was skeptical as to its being worth much for anybody but our little friend Daisy. 1 could see how a little one like her might learn to write, and to spell, and to express ideas correctly and fluently by ii^S 322 MISS DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT. iif bat I confess I thonght that a boy of your age and acquirements would soon discover that he could do more rapid work with a pen." "No, sir," said Ben decidedly; "I can work pretty fast with a pen, I believe — Mr. Reynolds thinks so — but I can work a good deal faster with this already, and I haven't used it so long as I have a pen." Judge Dunmore drew from his pocket a blank sheet of paper folded and placed in a blank envelope. "I have made so much preparation toward writing an important business letter," he said. "I thought I should drop into the post-office on my way back and write it ready for the early mail. What is to hinder this little instru- ment from doing it for me ? If I dictate will you write?" There was a flush on Ben's face which mounted to his forehead, but his answer was prompt and courteous, and without more delay Judge Dunmore dictated a brief note, giving directions to one of his clerks concerning cer- tain packages which were to be looked after. No word was spoken by the little group who watched Ben's flying fingers and flushed face. OETTim READY FOR THE FAIR. 823 His mother was almost sorry for him. Poor Ben had had so few letters to write. How should he know where to commence or how to close? He could spell — that was a comfort, cer- tainly; but perhaps he did not know wi.ether "Dear Sir" should be in t.he middle of the line, or at the end, or where. He had seen so few business letters, or letters of any sort, poor boy I ]•: I « CHAPTER XXI. A "CHANCB." TUDGE DUNMORE surveyed the neatly- ^ written sheet that wan presently handed to him with a very critical eye. " That is correct in every particular," he said at last, with a satisfied air, " unless there should be a comma after that word * shelf.' What do you think?" " I think not, sir," said Ben respectfully, but with decision in his tone, " because the sense is complete without it, and you know they do not use commas so freely now as they once did." "Is it so?" said Judge Dunmore, smiling. " Perhaps you are right ; in any case, it is a relief to see a boy of your age who has given thought to the subject and has ideas of his own in regard to it. Most young people, and older ones too, for that matter, seem to me to tumble in the commas and semicolons wherever 3«4 A "CHANCE." 325 it happens, without regard to sense. Well, what about the envelope ? Will that magician address it ? " ** He can," said Ben, his eyes gleaming with pleasure and a touch of pride. The envelope was slipped into place, and the gentle "tack, tack, tack" of the letters began. A moment, and it was slipped out in triumph and held before the pleased eyes of the Judge. "Upon my word!" he said heartily, "as plain as print — in fact it is print. What a relief that will be to the postmaster, who is probably never sure whether I mean a y or an iS OT & T. I regret to say I hav^ fallen into a most slovenly habit of writing, until I can hardly, at times, decipher my own notes. I am not sure that I should use the term ' fallen into.' I don't think I ever learned how to write properly ; it has been a great regret to me. Ben, my boy, what are you doing nowadays ? " The flush, which had died out a little on Ben's face, deepened again. " I am addressing envelopes and putting up church circulars for Mr. Holden, just now," he said. "I work at it a little while every afternoon. Mr. Holden thought it would be better to keep it for after- 826 MI8N DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. noon work, and leave my mornings free for other chances, but I haven't found any chances yet," and Ben tried to keep back a sigh over the last words. " What kind of work have you been looking for, my boy ? " • "Anything in the world," said Ben earnestly, " which was respectable and would help along." "Rather indefinite," Judge Dunmore said, with a quiet smile ; " I have no doubt you intended to be very clear in your answer, but the fact is, the word * respectable ' is a hard one to understand. What does Webster say about it, I wonder?" "I wish I knew," said Ben, with a half-laugh. "I will put it on ray list and let you know to-morrow, if that will do ? " "Your list? I am curious. Has your Web- ster a special fit of dignity in obliging you to make out a list each time you want to consult him ? Pray how many words does he demand at a sitting ? " Line's face was red, but this was not the sort of poverty which made her brother blush. He answered frankly, laughing as he spoke, "No, sir, it is not an arrangement of Webster's. At A ''CHANCE.'^ 327 least I think he would be more accommodating if he had a chance. We have none of our own, so my sister and I make out a list of any words that we want to know about, and the next chance we have, either at Mr. Holden's or Miss Webster's, we look them up." ' ** Ah 1 I understand ; that is a very sensible idea. Webster is a cumbrous luxury in these days, especially the pictorial unabridged. As to the word * respectable,* I think we can get at the meaning sufficiently perhaps for our pur- pose, though accuracy in definition is a very important thing; what should you say, at a venture, the word meant ? " "Why, I shouldn't think there could be any other meaning to it than just that which is wouiid up in the very sound of the word," said Ben; **a thing b respectable if it is proper, --^ and, well, the thing that ought to be done." Judge Dunmore looked at Line. "Do you agree?" he asked. •*i should think one would have to know ex- actly what 'respect* meant before the word « respectable * could be understood," she said ; vdA on the Judge's face there was a quick flash of appreciation as he answered : -I !l>-i » «i ' 1 i 8?8 MTSS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. "True; Benjamin, my boy, you and I stand corrected. 'Respect' — let us see. Do either or both of you study Latin ? " " No, sir," said both, in the same breath, low- toned and regretful. "When you do, you will both enjoy the study." There was something very invigorating in the way he spoke those words. It was as if he con- sidered the matter in the light of one not to be questioned, whereas these two had said each to himself and herself but a few days be^ e, " If I can get a respectable common-schoc ^cation it is all I must hope for." Now instinctively each said inwardly, "I mean to study Latin." " Respect," said Judge Dunmore, " is made up, like so many words which we claim, from two Latin words, and literally means to * look back,* or *look again'; does that give you a hint as to the original meaning? Something to command attention, to attract notice. Was that the idea to be conveyed in your use of the word respectable, Ben?" "No, sir, not at all," said Ben, laughing. "If 1 had something to do which would be right, and which w6uld help support my family, A ''chance:' aM I shouldn't care whether people ever looked at it or not, or at me." " Then you see how diflScult it is to under- stand words. I know a boy who refused to saw wood for a man to pay a debt he had care- lessly made, because his father was a lawyer, and it wasn't respectable work for a lawyer's son." Both Ben and Line laughed. "What are you laughing at?" asked the Judge, looking from one to the other curiously. "Am I to understand that you believe he ought to have sawed the wood ? " "I should think that would depend on whether he had something else to do that was more important, and that it was his duty to do instead," said Ben promptly. "And something by which he could earn money to pay his debt," chimed in Line. " Of course," said Ben. The Judge smiled on them both, and drew out his watch. " It is later than I thought," he said, rising. " We have spent so much time on the meaning of that word * respectable ' that we haven't reached the point at which I aimed when I started. Are you an early riser, Benjamin?" m.\ ^i!i'i i: I !: ,880 MtSa DEE DUN MORE BRYANT., ** I don't know, sir," said Ben. " I get the fire built and the water over by six o'clock; but I don't know whether that would be called early or not." " It will answer my purpose, f*t least," said Judge Dunmore. " It happens that Mrs. Dun- more and I are the only early risera in our bouse, at present. Our married daughter likes to breakfast later, and as she is yisiting us the yoting people think it is very pleasant to wait and 'reakfast with her, so Mrs. Dunmore and I, who do not like to wait, sit down alone often, at half-past seven ; and the question is, whether ydu could come to-morrow morning and take breakfast with us at that hour, and give us a chande to talk over some work that we should both consider respectable?" . ../ "iTou should have seen Ben's face then! If it had been red before, crimson is the word which ought to describe it next. He looked at hi's mother, and at Lin^, and at the floor, and tried to stammer out something which he knew waii nnintelligible, and stopped in the middle of it in utter confusion. Sxidge Dunmore laughed pleasantly. ** Yon do lubt waht to come ia the least, do yon? '■ V>.u\, t. -ti-i V.'*V. A ''CHANCE." 381 You think it would be dreadfully embarrassing to go out to breakfast with two elderly people who are almost strangers to you, and you do not believe you can eat five mouthfuls ; in fact you would rather go without your breakfast altogether than to have it under such circura- Btances, at the same time you are afraid that it will be rude to decline, and you do not want to be rude. Haven't T stated the case fairly and honestly?" " That is about it, sir," said Ben, looking up at last, his face fairly blazing; at the same time he could not help laughing a little. It seemed so absurd to be admitting to Judge Dunmore that he thought it a dreadful thing to go to his house to breakfast. "Goodl" said the Judge heartily; "I like frankness, and I do not think it at all surpris- ing that a boy of your age would rather take breakfast with his own family than with some other person's family; nevertheless, I am go- ing to press my invitation, because I see in it an opportunity to learn some things which I '«<;ri8h to know. Will you come to breakfast, Benjamin ? " "Yes, sir," said Ben, "if mother says so." I * 'It 832 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. There was plenty to talk about now, as soon as the door closed after the Judge. Line began it. "Well, Ben Bryant," in a half-admiring, half-quizzing tone, "I should think you were getting on fast. Invited out to take breakfast with Judge Dunmore! They say the dining- room is just lovely. The chambermaid at Mrs. Kedwin's has a sister working there, and she tells wonderful things about the dishes. It seems they have unpacked some of their own which they brought with them from their win- ter house, and she says they arc ever so much more elegant than the Sutherlands' dashes." "I guess the Sutherlands* dishes would be quite elegant enough for me," Ben said gloom- ■ ily. And then, "Mother, whatever do you suppose is the reason he wants me to come?" "To learn some things which he wished to know, he said," Mrs. Bryant replied placidly, sewing away steadily as she spoke. " I*d like to know what they are," said Ben, and his face was very gloomy indeed. "You'll learn some things, too," said Line. " I wish I had your chance." "I wish you had!" with a good deal of A *' chance:' 833 energy in the words. '* What chance is there about it, Fd like to know, for a boy?" " Plenty of chance. You will see things the way people have them who belong in — well, in society, you know, people who are some- bodies; the way they live, and the way they eat, and all about it." " And what good will that do me ? " "How do I know? "What a queer evening this is ! Here I thought I was talking to my brother Benjamin, and behold, he has changed into Rnfus Kedwin in the last five minutes, with his everlasting *What good will that do?' over all the * chances' that come to him. I thought you preached to him that every single thing we can learn may be of use somehow, and that we ought to learn everything we could." Ben let his face break into a grim smile. "This is different," he said. "I know it, very different and unexpected, and who knows what the next thing may be ? A different one still, perhaps, into which a piece of this will fit. How do you know how soon yon may have a chance to belong to such people yourself?" m" hi; ill: 834 MISS LEE DUNMOEE BRYANT. "What people?" " Why, the kind we are talking about. Peo- ple who live in handsome houses and have nice things every day in the week, and keep on their company manners all the time." " Ho ! " said Ben, " I call that a jump. How would I go to work to belong to such people ? Mother, did you ever suppose our Line was proud?" "I mean it," said Line coolly, while his mother only smiled. "I say you don' know how soon you will be placed where you would give a good deal to know just how to act, and here is a chance to learn some of the things. I suppose they have great fine napkins at each plate, and they spread them over their laps to keep their clothes nice. They do that at Mrs. Ked win's, you know, and I suppose they have larger and nicer ones at grand houses; don't they, mother ? " " I should think well-brought-up people could keep their clothes clean at the table without having bibs on," Ben said, in some disdain. " Well, they can't always; things drop, you see. A drop of milk, or even of water, would spoU some dresses, and sometimes the person A "CHANCE.'* 836 who Bits next to a lady is awkward and spillB the gravy, then what would become of her dress without a napkin ? " Ben laughed, and his cheeks reddened. "Yours wasn't spoiled," he said. " No, it wasn't, because it is calico and will wash; but I should like a napkin for every meal.*' "I wouldn't; I need something more sub- stantial. Mother, would it be expensive to feed Line on napkins three times a day?" It was Line's turn to laugh and blush. "At every meal, then," she said, "if yon like that better. And they have little butter plates for each person, and the butter is in little round balls, all carved. I don't know how they manage it, but I saw them once. I waited for Miss Sutherland in the dining-room while they were setting the table, and I saw ever so many pretty things that I have wanted to know the name of and the use for ever since. You must keep your eyes and ears open, and have a good deal to teach me after to-morrow." "It ought to be your chance instead of mine," Ben said, waxing into gloom again; " you have your ears and eyes open already to H, 886 MISS DEE DUNMORE BBTANT. all such chances, and mine are stupid in that direction ; I shall make some horrible blunder and disgrace you all. I don't know how to wear a bib, or to got anything off from a round roll of butter ; I won't eat any butter, see if I do. O, mother, mother I I wish I didn't have to go," and the brown head went down sud- denly plump into his mother's lap. "Well, you do," said Mrs. Bryant coolly, "and I have no doubt you will have worse things in life to do many a time ; you may as well get used to them as they come. If I were you I would learn to be brave and manly over little things, as well as great big ones." These were the words, hard-sounding, perhaps, to a badly-frightened boy going out to his first 9tate breakfast alone, but while she spoke the mother's hand was making soft passes through the tumbled brown hair, and the pats she be- stowed from time to time were tender and sympathetic. On the whole, Ben was com- forted, but he could not have told why. Nevertheless, he went the next morning with more fear and trembling than had ever fallen upon him before, to meet his appointment. "Poor Ben," Line said, looking after him, A ''chance:' 887 half-laughing, half-sympathetic, ''he looks as though he were going out to be hanged, instead of going to take breakfast with Judge Dun- more. Mother, aren't toys queer? I should like to go. I can't tell you how much I should like it. If I had a dress that just suited me to wear, and was sure I looked just right, I should like nothing better than to be going out to a grand house, where everything was beautiful. I should like to have an elegant carriage come for me, and a footman to wait on me. I be- lieve I could step into a handsome carriage real gracefully. I've watched Miss Sutherland step into theirs so often that I know just how to do it. Do you suppose I will ever have a chance to prove it, mother?" Mrs. Bryant looked at her handsome daugh- ter, whose eyes were bright with excitement, and whose cheeks were flushed a lovely red, and said to herself with a sigh, "She could grace a pretty home and a becoming dress." Then, in the next breath, " But what a tempta- tion they might be to her. It is best as it is." Aloud she said, "1 don't know, I am sure, dear; I know I think that at present it is better that it is Beu who is to go instead of you." 888 MISS DEE DUNMORE BBTANT, **0f course it is," said Line coolly, ** because, you see, I couldn't have gone. It is all very well for Ben to ^o in a threadbare jacket — boys can do such things and it doesn't hurt them — but for me to go to Judge Dunmore's to break- fast in a faded calico, too short for me at that, is not to be thought of, and it is to be hoped he has sense enough to know it." And then Mrs. Brv.int was sure that it was better for it to be Ben, because it was quite plain that her daughter Caroline had not grace enough to meet such a duty as yet. As for Ben, if he should live to be a hundred years old I am sure he will never forget the queer feeling he had, nor the loud thumps which his heart gave as he waited in the great hall, the next morning, for his host to appear. The smiling black man who seated him did it with such a friendly air that Ben could not help wishing it had been he with whom he was to take breakfast. " The Judge says will you be seated, sah, for a very few minutes, and he will be at your ser- vice. Breakfast will be served as soon as the Judge and his lady are ready," all the while sliowing beautiful white teeth, which to Ben's A "CHANCE^ If 339 oonfased vision seemed somehow a continuation of the mass of white shirt front which gleamed below them; all the while bowing profusely and waving his hand toward one of the large, high- backed easy chairs with which the wide, old- fashioned, elegant hall was lined. The wide doors leading into the dining-room were thrown open, and Ben could have a broad view of the breakfast table, and of the sideboard agleam with silver and cut glass. How beautiful, how perfectly beautiful it all was ! How Line would glory in it all, and how he hated it. Not that he hated pretty things; on the contrary, he felt an exultant thrill whenever he thought of the beautiful things there were in this world that money could buy. In his heart he meant to have some of them — a great many of them, in fact — and to know their uses and to be entirely at home with them, but never for his own sake; always there was a lovely back- ground of "mother" and "Line" and "Daisy" to fill up his picture; for them he meant to work and win all beautiful and costly things. Until then he would have been quite content to wait for a state breakfast. He grew red in the face as he thought of all the embarrass" r"ii w :i 140 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. m \v\ i mentB awaiting him, and wondered why Judge Dunmore, who was so great a lawyer, and seemed able to almost read people's thoughts, did not know that this was about the hardest thing he could have asked a boy to do. While he was puzzling out an answer to this question a door behind him somewhere swung noiselessly open, and Judge Dunmore entered. ♦ V CHAPTER XXII. "just common sense." TTTHEN Benjamin Foster Bryant walked away from Judge Dunmore's door that morning, he almost wondered whether he had not grown a little since he left home. So much had been compressed into the last two hours it was hard for him to realize that only two hours had passed since he saw his mother. He remembered that he had agreed with Line to come back and get a piece of her johnny- cake. He laughed over the thought. Johnny- cake was the last thing he wanted just now. Hungry he certainly was not ; although he had , not expected to eat a dozen mouthfuls at the Judge's table, and was not at this moment aware whether he had eaten much or little, his appetite was undoubtedly satisfied. The steak had been so juicy that it was impossible, after the first taste, to help taking another and 341 3J2 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. another, and by the time the third mouthful was reached, he had become so interested in what Judge Dunmore was telling, that he ate right along without thinking much more about it. Turning the corner he came almost upon Rufus Kedwin before he saw him. "Halloo I" said that young person, "have you gone blind, or are you studying how to make another machine like the one which has bewitched you? I'll be thumped if you hayen't it along I Do you take it with you when you go on errands ? " Ben laughed pleasantly. "Did I run into you?" he asked. "I was so busy thinking that I never even heard your step. O, no I I don't tpl-e my machine along generally; this morning was an exception, though I fancy it will often walk out with me after this." "What Hhis' are you talking about? Where have you been ? " "You would never guess," said Ben, his round face breiiking into a broad smile. " I've been out to breakfast, old fellow, and a good breakfast we had, too. Did you ever eat Cali- fornia peaches? I can tell you they are prime.*' " Out to breakfast — where ? " ''JUST COMMON SENSE.** 848 ** At Jadge Danmore*B.'* ** Bah ! " said Ruf us, with a look of intense disgust on his face, ** what's the use in chaffing a fellow 80 early in the season ? It isn't April Fool yet, and if it were, I'm too old a bird to be caught with such a silly ^fool' as that. Why don't you tell me in plain English what you mean?*' **I used as plain English as I could, and I told you the exact truth. I have been tak- ing breakfast with Judge Dunmore and his wife; I went because I was invited, and we had a splendid breakfast — California peaches and all." "How came you to?" asked Rufus, whose mouth was wide open now, as well as his ears. "I mean, how came he to invite you? What does it all mean?" " Well, I'll be switched if you aren't a lucky fellow!" This was Rufus' final exclamation, as, by means of much cross-questioning, he at last understood the whole matter. "I don't think there is any luck about it," said Ben, growing dignified. "I learned to write on a machine when I had a chance, and you didn't learn, though you had the same f ll'l III I Ui MISS DEE DUN MORE BBYANT. wm cha«ice; and because I knew how to write on that one I had a small one given to me, which you said you wouldn't have for a present; if you couldn't have a large one you didn't care for any ; and I learned to write on that, and got a chance, by the means, to do some work on it for Judge Dunmore. Where's your luck about that?" "I call it luck. Who would have supposed that a man, and a big lawyer at that, would ever want work done on such a baby machine ? I thought it was only a plaything for Daisy." Ben laughed good-humoredly ; he could afford to laugh, even though his treasure was called a " baby machine." Hadn't it earned twenty- five cents this very morning, with a chance to repeat the experiment to-morrow morning? " Who did you suppose would care how small a machine was, if it could do the work ? " ho asked. "I should consider that an advantage, just as you would, let me tell you, if you had to lug around one of the large machines; they are a trifle heavier than this." "Well," said Rufus mournfully, "if I'd had the least idea it would ever amount to anything I should have learned to clatter the old thing ''JUST COMMON sense:^ 845 if when Mr. Reynolds told me I might. I wouldn't mind earning a quarter, I know, in that way, or most any other; I haven't had a cent o' spending money since Christmas, and only fif< / cents then." Ben tried to think when he had had fifty cents for "spending money," and could not, but this he said nothing about. " I'll tell you what it is," he said, speaking earnestly, " I've told you you made a mistake — don't you know I have? — in not learning things when you had a chance; they fit in, somehow, when you don't expect them to. I wasn't sure, of course, that learning to run that machine would ever do me any good, but I meant to try for it, so long as I had the chance, and you see how it has turned out ; it isn't luck, it is just common sense. Now look here, I'll make you an offer ; you learn to run this little felio^. I'll give you a chance. If you will come over to oar house evenings regularly, we'll divide up the evenings. Line will work on it half an hour, and I'll take it half an hour, and you may have half an hour, and the rest of the time we'll each work on our lessons, and recite together. Wouldn't that be a good plan ? " mq Miss deh dvnmors: BRTAift. liVl Rufas shrugged his shoulders. ** Catch me studying an hour every evening," he said. " I go to school all day, I suppose you know, and get studying enough, I can tell you." " I forgot you were in school," Ben said, his face grave, his tone almost respectful — it was necessary to have a little respect for a hoy who could go to school all day — "but thee, of course you have to study some evenings? Line and I used to." "Of course I don't. Catch me studying evenings after tugging at books all day; a fellow has to have some time to himself." "Well, then, you can have the first half -ho \r and leave, if you want to, or the second half- hour, or the third, whichever you like. And we'll run races on the thing and see who can get up the highest rate of speed, or which one can write the most pages without a mistake in them; that is, after you learn, of course. It doesn't take long to learn." There was no lighting up of Rufus' face. "It wouldn't be of any use," he said gloom- ily ; " two machines are not given away in the same town, and if they were, there's no work here for machines. Judge Dunmore won't be "JVST COMMON SENSE.** 847 e k here but a few weeks, aud when he goes your machine will be on your hands, and you will have had all your trouble for nothing." Ben could not help laughing. What a hope- less croaker Rufus was, always sighing about "chances" and "luck," and saying "If I only had ! " Still, he would make one more attempt. "You never can tell," he said sagely, " whether a thing will work or not, unless you try it. I don't ask you to give up a better chance to try this one ; I just propose that you take some of the time which belongs to you, and learn a new thing that may help in the future, or it may not ; now do you want to do it?" "I don't believe I do, though you are a good-natured fellow to plan it; some boys would not let anybody else touch their things, if there was the ghost of a chance for making any money I'd go into it quicker than lightning, but you see I know there isn't. I believe in a fellow's using his common sense about such things. Besides, I could not learn to do any work that would amount to shucks on such a baby afEair." " Don't I tell you I have earned a quarter on 348 MISS DEE BUNMOBE BRYANT, iiii; li^ I iiii :ii!ij! it this morning, and have a chance to earn one each morning for a week at least ? " asked Ben, growing indignant at last. "O, well! that's because you had a chance at the big machine and got your hand in." " Line didn't have a chance at the big one, and she is learning to write fast." "O, Line! she's only a girl; she can write fast enough for girls, of course ; what will they ever want to write that needs speed?" "You talk like an idiot!" declared Ben, losing his patience utterly. But Rufus did not want to vex him just yet, and answered quickly, " Why, I don't mean anything disagreeable about Line ; I mean that girls do not need to work as fast as boys ; girls have to be taken care of and worked for, you know." " Don't your mother and mine have to work, Rufus Kedwin? and they were both girls once. Suppose they hadn't learned when they had a chance? Though I don't mean that my mother shall have to work when I am a man." "That's just it. I'm going to support my mother, too, and do it in style. None of your little seven by nine houses for me ; I mean to have one as big as the Sutherlands'." "JUST COMMON SENSE." 349 What was the use in being vexed with a boy who used so little of his boasted common sense, and withal was so good-hearted? Ben laughed again, and concluded to let it all go. But Rufus had a plan which needed his help. "I'll tell you what," he began earnestly, "you are such a good fellow that I'm going to ask a favor of you. I want you to lend me a quar- ter. There's a special reason why I want one worse than I ever did in my life, I do believe. If I knew a single chance for earning a cent I wouldn't bother you, but I don't ; and now that you are in the way of earning so much, I thought perhaps " — Ben interrupted him. « I can't lend money, Rufus; it is part of my bargain with mother that I would neither lend nor borrow, that is unless I told her all about it and she agreed. If it is something you want to explain to mother, and she can spare the quarter, why, we'll talk about it." "I don't want to borrow of her," said Rufus stiffly. ««I thought you said the money was your own." "Why, of course it is my own; didn't I earn it? But^ man alive, what do you suppose I ■M!l m 'ill UKi MI88 DEB DUNMOBE BET ANT. earned it for? Do you think I let my mother support the family, and pocket my earnings to amuse myself with? Why, even Daisy, little mouse as she is, knows better than that." " O, for pity's sake, Ben, don't preach a ser- mon with every breath ! I know you are a per- fect pattern of a boy, and all that — never spend a cent for a stick of candy unless you ask your mother, but I thought you could accommodate a friend without running home to ask your ma if you might." If Hufus had not been troubled and vexed, he would have known better than to expect to accomplish anything by using that sort of argu- ment with Ben. His face flushed a little, but he was cool and good-humored. "All right," he said ; " then you are mistaken in me, and may as well own it ; your common sense didn't work this time. I'm just that sort of a chap ; I shall run home and ask my *ma' before I lend you one cent, to say nothing of twenty-five of them, you may depend upon that; and more- over, likewise, I shall explain to her why I want to lend it, and why you want to borrow it, before she will agree to the bargain; that's another thing you can depend upon; and if "JUST COMMON SENSE." 861 ive ke- mt it, you thought I would be ashamed of such an ar- rangement, why, that is mistake number two." " Suppose it is a secret ? " said Ruf us, in an eager and conciliatory tone; he was already sorry he had put his hoped-for quarter in jeopardy by losing his temper. " Um," said Ben musingly, *^ we don't think much of secrets, any of us, unless it is about Christmas or birthday times. If it is anything of that kind, Ruf us, I know just how you feel, but I wouldn't now, honest. I've been there myself, and I know mothers pretty well, and I know they would rather go without a present five times over than to have it bought with borrowed money, and it isn't because I don't want to lend it, either." "O, botheration! you are too stupid and old fogy and green for anything. It isn't about a present; my mother doesn't have any birthdays — not that I ever heard of — and she wouldn't thank me to borrow money to make her a pres* ent; you are right enough there. Say, Ben, I'll pay you interest on the quarter — ten per cent; come now, you are all for making money, and you are willing to make it a quarter of a cent at a time, here's a chance for you." 3r>2 MISS DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT. " I don't think you ought to pay interest on money," Ben said gravely, " when you haven't an idea wheve the principal is to come from. Beside, what is the use in talking? Didn't I tell you that mother and I had a bargain about such things? Is it something you are willing to explain to her?" " Why, yes, it is, if it comes to that. You may explain to all creation, if you want to, and keep your old quarter besides. I want to go to the circus — Barnum's circus, that is coming next week — and I mean to do it, too, whether you are too mean to let me have the money or not. So now run home and tell your ma I kept you on the corner talking, and that is why you are so late. I suppose you have to tell her every time you turn around, don't you?" "Every single solitary time," said Ben, in ntmost good humor. "But, Rufus, you are a sillier boy than I thought if you mean to spend twenty-five cents to go to a show, "when you told me yourself you couldn't join the history class because your mother couldn't afford a book for you this year. A quarter would go 1^ good way towards buying a second-hand **JUST COMMON SENSE.'* S53 a id history, and you are greener than I take you to be if you think my mother will agree to any such borrowing as that." "Well," said Rufus sullenly, "you are meaner than I took you to be ; I thought you would be glad of the chance to help a fellow along who never has any fun, when you could as well as not. But a boy who takes breakfast with a judge can't be supposed to care to help an old acquaintance, I suppose. I'll remember in the future how accommodating you are. I shall go to that circus, you see if I don't, and I'll get a chance for you to go too, if I can. Anyhow, I'll return good for evil." " That's right," said Ben good-naturedly ; " I wish you success in earning the money, and common sense to spend it after it is earned. I wouldn't waste any of it on the circus if I were you, I know that." And having reached the comer where their ways separated he ran off without further ceremony. While he is on his way home I may as well tell you how the plans for the fair were pro- gressing. It is true that very little time had passed since the plan was first thought of, yet much I'l :!!; rill! Illli 364 M188 DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. work was being done toward getting ready for it. What is very strange, when one stops to think of it carefully, much work was being done for it by those who knew nothing about it. For instance, there was a plain little room in a back street of a large city, where sat a middle-aged woman with a plain pleasant face, sewing industriously. She was not by any means alone. All around her, lying in heaps, sitting in rows, standing in comers, sleeping in boxes, wer*^ dolls of every size and shape and complexioii. Dolls with arms and dolls with- out arras ; dolls with hair and baldheaded dolls; in fact, there were dolls with no heads at all! Miss Perkins arrested her busy needle and looked about her once or twice thoughtfully, pushing out of hearing as far as possible a little sigh which wanted to come out into the room. The smile which was so generally on her face faded a little, and she really tried to look sober and think. In fact, she divl more than think ; she held at arms-length the doll whose head she was sewing fast to its shoulders, and thought- fully studied its face as she said : "What in the world am I to do with you when I get you done? That is the question, "JUST COMMON SENSE." 355 and Pm sure T don't know bow to answer it. Not only you, but dozens of others like you. It is a mercy you do not have to eat for a liv- ing; that is at present my one comfort in life; but then if you don't I do, and I cannot eat you. I'm sure I don't understand how there could ever be cannibals ; I couldn't eat even my kid and cloth children, I believe, not if it should save my life. But it is getting to be pretty serious business for you and me, I must say. If I don't sell one of you before the week is out, it is difficult to tell what will become of any of us." After which the sigh did really get out, and floated through the room among those staring children, who did not care at all. Miss Perkins felt the lack of syn»])athy. If there had only been somebody to say "Poor Miss Perkins!'* I am certain she would have felt better, and would not have let that one tear roll down over her nose and plash on the needle she was push- ing through a kid arm at the moment. I mean if she could have realized that there was One who cared. Generally Miss Perkins did realize this, and it is what made her smiles bright and steady, even through trying days and weeks. if 356 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. You have guessed before this that Miss Per- kins made her living by making dollies. That is, she sewod for a large firm, who employed her whenever they wanted extra help. They could not take her regularly into their factory, because she would not be taken ; she kept this one room and kept it homelike, and kept a few of the old home things about it for the sake of a troublesome little nephew, whose only friend she was, and who repaid all her sacrifice by being almost as bad a boy as he could, and wasting his little earnings in chewing-gum and cigarettes. " If I were you I would send him to some Home, Miss Perkins," so her friends often said to her. And Miss Perkins would shake her head and say, " I have ; Pve sent him to my home. Poor little fellow ! if there isn't room in my heart for him there isn't anywhere. I promised my sister with her last breath that I'd look after him as long as there was life in rae, and I mean to do it." So Miss Perkins would not break up her little home and go to the factory ; and it hap- pened sometimes that very little extra work was needed; and on this particular winter Dorry, the naughty nephew, had tumbled from *'JUaT COMMON SENSE." 357 a scaffolding where he ought never to have been, and broken his leg and required much care and some luxuries, and times were harder than usual. Miss Perkins, during the five years in which she had been an extra hand for the firm, had gathered about her many scraps of kid and cloth, and many heads of dollies slightly marred in some way, and so thrown out as imperfect, and had set up a wee manu- factory of her own, making dollies to order; the only trouble was, the orders were few and far between. Only a few of her friends knew about this, and they belonged to the class who do not spend much money for dolls. It came to pass, in the course of time, that Miss Perkins had boxes and boxes of un- finished dolls, some needing an arm, when the kid gave out at just the wrong minute, some with their heads only basted on, because an order had come before they were finished. This particular spring, times were duller than usual, and Miss Perkins, who had been without work for three weeks, other thnn these dollies afforded, had finally gathered them ull about her to discover in a systematic way, if she could, what was needed. ! !l in t m CHAPTER XXIII. "who knows?" T MAY as M'^ell finish them up," she had said cheerfully, " and be done with it. Who knows what may happen, or how soon some of them may be needed ? " This she had said three days before, but on the morning of which I write, when that tear I told you of had rolled off her nose, times looked dark. It was raining outside ; perhaps that may have been one reason ; and Dorry the scapegrace had not brought home one cent the night before, thougli he admitted that he had sold two newspapers, but he had lent the money to another 'fellow," who had bought two glasses of soda and two buns with it, and " treated." Miss Perkins tried to be glad that the "treat" was soda water Instead of anything more dan- gerous ; and I am almost glad that she did not 3S8 **WnO KNOWS f" 359 know how dangerous a drink soda water, even, can be made, because I really think she had trouble enough. Well, she sewed on her dollie's head, and looked soberly at it, and presently plashed a tear right into the middle of its unwinking eye, and wondered whether it was worth while to try to finish up these dolls. Who would ever buy them? She was sure she didn't know; and she actually forgot that there was One who did. At precisely that moment of time Miss Webster, in her room two hundred miles away, haying been waited upon by her nurse to writ- ing pad and writing rest and stylographio pen, was writing a letter which r'^ad like this : >» Mr DEAR Miss Perkins: I hope you have what I need, or can get them ready in tho coarse of the next few weeks. I want about thirty dollies; not fine ones — just neat, plain little creatures, well made, as I know all your work is. There is to be a dollies' fair in this town in the course of the next two weeks, and if I can get the dolls within a week I think I have a plan by which they can all be dressed in time for the fair. I inclose my check for thirty-five dollars, for which please send me if you possibly can thirty of the best-looking Misses; they need not. all be worth a dollar apiece ; indeed I do not care if some are very small and cheap, but some of them will probably be worth mnch more than that; at least I want only thirty, and I am willing to pay that price for them. The extra five dollars will cover the packing and expressage, I ihink. Please let me ill iiiijir: m MISS DEE DUN MO R^ B BY ANT. know by return maii whether you can accommodate me, I hope you are having a pheasant spring, and that Dorry has not forgotten that he is going to try to grow up a man. What do you think Miss Perkins will say wlieu she receives thrt letter? Will she re- member those tears, do you suppose, that she shed while it was being written, and the gloomy, almost despairing thoughts she had? Sew fast, Miss Perkins, you have no time to waste in tears. Miss Webster is already sealing and addressing her letter. The postman's whistle is sounding on the street below ; he will hurry it into his mail bag, the clerk at the post-office will presently push it with all speed into the right bag, and the train will rattle it over the rails miles and miles, and other clerks will glance at it, and push it on, and a postman will presently ring at your own door, and you will be sure that he can have nothing for you, as there is nobody to write to you now, and you will be sure while you are breaking the seal that there is some mistake ; but there is no mistake ; the loving Father who lets not a sparrow fall to the ground without his care, and who numbers the very hairs of your head, has planned it all ; brush away the tears, suill« 1i,!! ''WHO K^{?\VSf" 861 and trust, and sew fast, Miss Perkins, for the dollies are needed. By this time you feel sure that Benjamin Bryant must have reached home. If you could have heard his sister Line ask questions in an eager effort to get him to describe the scenes through which he had just passed, you would have been sure of it. "Did Mrs. Dunmore sit down to the table with you? Just you three? how queer! Ben, how did she look — I mean how was she dressed ? " "How do I know? She had on some clothes, of course, and a little three-cornered patch on top of her head. I thought she would have looked better without that; I felt afraid it would slip off all the time. It looked loose, and flapped a little in the wind." " A three-cornered patch ! Mother, I suppose it was one of those lovely lace breakfast caps. What color was her dress, Ben ? " " Blue, I guess ; or I don't know — a kind of a gray; greenish gray — with blue ribbons to tie it up with ; they fluttered around in the way. She didn't look as nice as mother does." " Of course not, you silly boy. Nobody ever 1 ■ i 362 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. looks as nice as mothers do ; but I don't believe her dress was greenish, with blue ribbons ; that would be in horrid taste." " It was some of those colors," said Ben con- fidently; then, "Mother, did you know Barnum's circus was coming next week ? The hand bills are all over town — great big pictures of all sorts of terrible-looking animals. I should like to see the animals." " Oh I never mind that old circus ; tell us all about the breakfast ; wo have never been to a * style ' breakfast, you know." This from Line, of course. **Why, I have told you. We had things to eat, and we ate them — beefsteak and things ; and they were good "Mother, did you ever see anything like a bey for describing things? If it had been Daisy or me, we should have had a whole book full to tell, and here is this provoking boy can only say he had ' things ' to eat ! " "Well," said Ben, laughing, "what would you have? We had butter, and muffins, and coffee — or they had — and milk — iced milk — and sauce." ** Sauce for breakfast I " ! " WUO KNOWS f" 363 " Yes'm; sauce for breakfast — a large dish of it — and it was good ; and mush of some kind they had, the first thing, with cream on it — not milk, but thick cream — you could almost cut it, it was so thick." " That was oatmeal," said T.ine, with a supe- rior air. " People eat oatmeal and cream first, nowadays — real stylish people do. It would seem queer to me — like having bread and milk for breakfast. Go on, Ben." " There's nothing to go on about : I've tpl^ you everything now, anyhow." "O, no, you haven't! How was the table arranged i' What kind of dishes, and where were they put ? " "Put?" repeated Ben helplessly, "why, on the table, of course, and they were dishes like anybody's, only some of them were silver, and some were blue and all colors." "O, dear me!" said Line, "was there ever anybody like a hoy f" whereupon both Mrs. Bryant '\nd D^isy laughed. "You haven't studied the art of description, have you, Ben?" his mother said pleasantly. " Never mind, Caroline ; boys never do observe in those directions as ■|;i i 1 a longer story than the one you had not time for," she said. "Suppose we leave it until evening?" " Especially," added Line, " since you are not the boy with money to spare, and are not likely to be." " There are such boys," added Ben gravely. " Rufus wants to go dreadfully, and I shouldn't be surprised if he should manage it somehow." "Rufus! 1 shouldn't think he could spare the money much better than we. Mrs. Kedwin told me yesterday that she did not know what they were going to do; that she would close the season in debt in spite of all her efforts. She says if Miss Webster did not pay as much again for her board as it was worth, she should be just swamped in debt. That is the very word she used. If I were Rufus i whould be ashamed to talk about spending money at a circus when my mother was almost beside her- self trying to pay her I/ills! I'm ashamed of Rufus almost every time I see him or hear anything from him. I think he grows worse instead of better. j» «T' I'm afraid he does," said Ben, won( looking grave, and wondering what Line would think "WHO KNOWS?" zei if she knew he had tried to borrow money for the circuB ; " he has got intimate with a set of boys who make him worse tlmn he would be. He goes with that Jonas Smith a great deal, and they read books together that are not what you and mother would think very good, I guess. Rufus used to like Mr. Holden — don't you re- member when he said he was a splendid man ? — now he doesn't like to hear his name; he is always saying that he meddles with other peo« pie's business." The mention of that name again seemed to remind Ben that he was in haste, and he started up suddenly, turning back as he reached the door to say, with a flush on his face as though it was a bit of news of which he was half- ashamed, " Something else happened this morn- ing that I didn't tell you about. Judge Dun- more took me into his library and gave me letters to write — business letters, you know. He had written on slips of paper about what he wanted said, and I had to put them into shape. / wrote four, and he paid me twenty- five cents; and I am to come every morning this week, and perhaf/« longer." " Why, Ben ! " said his mother, in a gratified .^U MiaS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. voice, and Line sot down the cup she was rinsing very suddenly, and rushed over to him, dish towel in hand, to give liim a hearty hug and kiss. "What a boy! "she exclaimed for the third time tliat niornins:. "Tell all about carpets, flowers, circuses, and I don't know what else, and leave such a splendid i>iece of news to the last second. Ben, it is the begin- ning of the fortune you are going to make out of the machine ! Why didn't you tell before?" " Hadn't a chance," said Ben, relishing his importance highly, but trying to look dignified and manly; "you wanted to know all about dishes, and clothes, and things, and didn't ask a word about the machine, so I tried to please you ; besides, it isn't much, I suppose. Rufus says it isn't; he says Judge Dunmore will be going away in a few weeks — which is true enough — and that then there will be no more work for the machine ; he says I ought to be paid more than twenty-five cents for writing four let- ters ; that it is ridiculous in Judge Dunmore to get his work done for next to nothing." "Rufus is an ignorant boy whose opinions are not to be noticed," said Mrs. Bryant, with more haste than she usually spoke. " If I *'WIIO KNOWS?" M| thought that such talk as that had the least ii.fl.ience over you, I should not want you to go with Rufus Kcdwin, my son." Ben laughed g..od.humoredly « I'm not go- ing to quarrel with my quarters, mother, because they are not half-uullars, if that is what you mean. Rufus always lost any chances there were for him, by being disgusted because they were not bigger. Where is Daisy?" "Gone over to Miss Webster's to plan about the fair; her mind is so full of it that she can- not sleep nights. I shall be almost glad when it is over. She says Mr. Holden has sent for a dollie who is to come by express, and have the place of honor, he hopos, at the fair. He must be an unusual minister, to interest himself in a child's fair, when she is almost a stranger to him, and not of his congregation." "He is an unusual minister," said Ben, "and he is being kept waiting unusually long. Good- by, mother," and he vanished. ' Half an hour afterwards he was writing names on envelopes with neatness and speed. Certain circulars which the minister desired to have go out in the next mail were being prepared, so Ben had agreed to come in the morning instead m ^ \^ ^ '> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 2.5 I.I Li ^^ ""^ ^ |j£ 12.0 U£ i lllllsSBSSS 1111^=^^ HJll^^™ f < 6" = ^ Hiotographic Sdmces Carporatian ^^« ^. ^;^ ^. '^. 23 WIST MAIN STMIT WnSTIt.N.Y. MSM (71*)l7a-4503 \ 370 MISS DEE DUNMOBS BBYANT. of the afternoon. He worked on silently for some time, steadily lowering the pile of enve- lopes, until now only a half-dozen were left of those which must soon go, and the minister who had laid down his pen, which had been racing over the paper, ran his fingers through his hair in a way he had when he wanted to rest his brain, looked over at Ben, and smiled. "Well, sir," lie said cheerily, "my morning's siint is accomplished; how is it with yours?" "Almost done, sir. Could yon be asked a question now?" r " Half a dozen of them if you will.** " What's the harm in circuses?" The minister looked neither shocked nor surprised, only reflective. After a moment's silence : " Is there harm in them, my boy?" Ben looked up astonished. "Why, I thought so," he said islowly. "At least, I thought yon thought so.** "Why should I?" " Why, because you are a minister/' "Do all ministers think so?" " I suppose so.'* "Why do they?" " That is what I am asking you,** Ben said. *'WnO KNOWS?'* 371 with a gleam of fun in his handsome eyes. The minister answered the look with a genial laugh. "^And you think I am begging the question," he said. **I do not mean to; I only wanted to get a glimpse of the reasoning processes through which you have been. You seem to have come to conclusions in regard to a certain class of workers called ministers. Are they the only ones included in this position which you say they take ?" "And mothers," Ben said slowly. "Ah, mothers! They are of us, are they? A very respectable portion of the world, don't you think, whose opinions ought to carry weight?" "Yes, sir ; and for that reason I'm trying to find out why they hold them." " What does your mother say ? " "She has never said much, only she didn't take us when we were younger, and she could ; and I know she wouldn't want us to go if we could ; she is going to talk it over to-night." " I think I'll wait until after to-night before I make a full answer," the minister said, smil- ing ; " I am a believer in mothers. In the mean- time, I will ask you two or three questions, it 879 MISS DEE DUNMOBE BRYANT. "What effect should you suppose it would have on a boy of about your age, to give up all regular work and regular study, and go travel- ing about the country taking care of monkeys, we will say, or bears; ctopping at one place to-day, at another to-morrow, and so on, having no home life, nor home associations ; spending his Sundays in travel, or in getting ready to exhibit his monkeys or bears ? " "I should think it would have r. very Md effect indeed." " Sup])ose, added to the surroundings I have mentioned, there should be men much older than he, who had been demoralized by such living, and had learned to swear, and to drink, and to gamble, and spent much of their leisure in this manner? Suppose that the boy of about your age had chiefly to do with such men ; did not stay long enough in any one place to form other acquaintances, or to be influenced by other lives than these. Suppose that the few women whom he knew were of the sort who tolerated, at least, perhaps enjoyed, the society of men such as I have described, and were more or less like them?" t* J should think it would be horrid, sir," '*WUO KNOWS?" 873 **Then I will ask you only one question more : What's the harm in circuses ? " Ben's cheeks glowed, and he glanced up with a half-laugh. Then, after a moment of silence, during which he addressed the last envelope in the pile, he said, "But going to see the monkeys and the bears for one evening wouldn't hurt the boy who was traveling with them ? " " But he wouldn't travel with them if I and my brother and sister didn't pay him money for showing them." " Other people will," said Ben, in a low tone, as though half-ashamed of the words. "Am I my brother's keeper?" said the minister. Ben sealed the last letter, stamped it, placed it in a neat package ready for the o£ice, then arose, package in hand, and a thoughtful look on his face. "Thank yon," he said. "For what?" asked Mr. Holden, rising. . " Ben, my dear fellow, one question more. I have said nothing about it for quite awhile, but it hasn't been because I am not deeply inter- ested in the answer. Have you settled that other matter fully ? " Ben's eyes were fixed on the questioner's 874 MISS DEE BUNMOUE BRYANT. W I face, and his smile was full and sweet. ** Yes, sir," he said promptly, " I have." The minister held out his hand. "Then, my dear boy, I may claim you as a young brother in Jesus Christ — a soldier who has enlisted for life under my Captain ? " "Yes, sir; if I understand myself, and I think I do, I belong to Him for life." "God bless you, my dear young brother! Does * mother ' know ? " " I haven't told her yet," said Ben, his cheeks flushing, " but I mean to. I have told nobody but little Daisy." CHAPTER XXIV. A HAPPY MOTHBB. "VrOTHING ever worked up better than "^"^ that fair. Miss Perkins was ready with her thirty dollies ; and you and I can imagine just how she felt when the order came which ■wept nearly all her stock on hand away, but left, instead, money enough to support Dorry and herself for the next three months. But she was by no means the only one who planned dolls for that fair. On the very even- ing in which the order from Miss Webster arrived, came one of the college girls to call on Miss Perkins. "Just a little bit of red kid no larger than her two fingers" was what she thought she came after, but in reality she came to hear Miss Perkins pour out her joy over the large order, to hear the letter read which ex- [plained why they were wanted, and to clap her hands gleefully and say, "That's the very thing 375 876 MISS DEE DUN MO RE BRYANT. for as ! The children in our circle have been dressing dolls to give away ; we planned it for them to teach them how to sew. We'll send them to this fair — the dolls, you know, not the children — and let them be sold for the benefit of whatever the managers are working for. It is sure to be a good object if Miss Webster is interested in it. I mean to write to her this very evening. Won't that be nice, Miss Perkins? Some of the dolls are the odd- est-looking creatures you ever saw. We girls in the graduating class have each planned a dollie like the one we used to love the best when we were little dots, and some of them are unique." In this way, and in many other ways of which I have not time to tell you, the interest grew. By the time Miss Perkins's box arrived, the young ladies of Mr. Holden's church had formed a circle to meet on two consecutive afternoons and dress dolls for " Miss Webster's fair." Every one of them knew Miss Webster, and were ready to serve her. A few of them were acquainted with little Daisy, and under- stood something about the occasion for this A HAPPY MOTHER. 877 effort. From Judge Dunmore's home went great packages, made up of bits of lace, and silk aiid velvet such as would have delighted any dollie's heart. Mrs. Irving, the married daughter, said she wondered, when she packed her trunks, why all those cast-off bits of finery persisted in comitig along, and now she knew. Cards of invitation were already out, in the na.ne of "Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant," invitiug every doUie in town to exhibit herself at the fair ; and Judge Dunmore offered a prize of a five-dollar gold piece to be given to the most neatly and tastefully dressed dollie, three ladies, none of whom had ever seen any of the dollies until the afternoon of the fair, to be chosen as committee of award. Miss Webster was hard at work making and dressing an exact repre- sentation of " Sally," the famous doll who lived in the White House in the years when John Adams was president of the United States, and "Mary Louisa" was his little daughter. The day before the fair was one long excite- ment to Daisy Bryant. Surprises began as early as seven o'clock in the morning, when that express package arrived from the college girls — a gcod-sized box filled with dolls, which •71 MltiS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. Daisy would certainly have called ** unique,** had she been acquainted with the word. Among other wonders in this box was a remarkable shoe, made of pasteboard covered with velvet, and filled even to overflowing with dolls. I may as well tell you, in passing, that this shoe full of dolls was the cause of great discomfort to Daisy. One little visitor from whom she had hoped much, sat down discon- solate before this shoe, refusing to be interested in anything, making herself and all about her miserable because her mother refused to buy the entire family — "old woman," "shoe" and all. In vain Daisy gently explained : "I couldn't spare them all to one customer, Alice dear — I couldn't, really ; there are a great many people here, you know, and so many of them want dollies that I think I shall have to take orders from some and supply them afterwards, so you see it would not do for one little girl to buy BO many." The only answer the broken-hearted Alice bad to all this was a twitch of the shoulders and a snarly little " Go away, do I What dif- ference would it make to you whether other people got dollies or not, if you sold them all? A UAPPY MOTHER. 879 I want the old woman in her shoe and all her children, or else I donH want any doll at all." So Daisy turned away with a sigh to attend to some less exacting customer. She found it hard to understand such a form of selfishness as this. Little girls were certainly not all alike, but Daisy had had her trials. On the afternoon before the fair, when Miss Webster was wheeled into the front room up- stairs where the dolls were to be exhibited, she found Daisy alone on her knees in front of a beautiful wax Miss who had arrived from Boston but the night before, and was by far the most beautiful doll on which Daisy's eyes had ever rested. It was from Miss Webster's brother Ben, who sent his love to Daisy, and his hearty regards to his namesake, Benjamin Bryant. Eyen Miss Webster had been surprised at this, and had laughed until the tears were in her eyes, and she had bent over and kissed the doll to hide them, as she said, " Dear boy, who would have supposed that he would think to do such a thing? Yet, after all, I do not know why I should be surprised ; it is just like him." In front of this doUie, as I said, knelt Daisy, alone bat for the presence of Bobby, a boarder's 880 MISS DEE LUNMOBE BRYANT. baby, who had been left; in her care for ten minutes wliile his mother ran downstairs on an errund. Bobby was comfortable in his basket^ but was at that moment very much astonished because Daisy did not look around and attend to him, as be had just thrown his rubber ball at her head to attract her notice. To be sure it had missed aim and only bounded lightly against her dress, but Bobby thought she might have noticed it. The truth was, she was too much absorbed. She did not even hear the soft roll of Miss Webster's chair, and did not look around until that lady said gently, "Is she talking to you, Daisy, or are you just lov- ing her?" Then Daisy gave one of those slow, long-drawn-out sighs which seemed to come somewhere from the depths of her heart, and said gravely, very gravely indeed, "Miss Web- ster, I shall make her a tenth." "Shall you, indeed?" said Miss Webster, with a slight start ; " I confess I am surprised at that. She would bring you in quite a sum of money, Daisy dear." "I know it, ma'am," said Daisy firmly; "but I have quite made up my mind that she shall be a tenth. Because, Miss Webster" — and A HAPPY MOTUEB. 881 here a lovely flush spread over Daioy's face — " at first I didn't want to do it — I don't un- derstand why, but I didn't, really. I think I wanted to keep her for myself. It poemed to me that I couldn't bear to sell her, or even give her away. It is very strange that I should have such a naughty feeling." And then, to Miss Webster's dismay, the slow tears came drop- ping softly from Daisy's eyes. "My darling," she said soothingly, "I do not think it at all strange that you should want to keep such a lovely little dollie for yourself, especially when it was sent on purpose for you by my brother. Why should you not keep it ? There will be a great many others on exhibition, and she might have the same position ; then, after the fair, you could keep her for your own. I am sure my brother Ben would like that." Daisy turned toward her now, the tears brushed away, her eyes large and sorrowful, fixed on Miss Webster in a sort of sad surprise. "It wouldn't be right," she said gravely; "I do not need her. It isn't as it was when my dear Dee Dnnmore came. She was only for me and for nothing else, and I was never to part with her ; but this one your brother said 882 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. was for me to do what I thought best with, and of course I ought to think best to give it to Jppus, for it is the very loveliest one I ever had, aud I always wanted to give the best be- fore. I do not understand why I feel so." Tears were vry near the surface again. Miss Webster made haste to argue the point. " Daisy, my darling, do you think she would be an entirely suitable Uenth'? Of course the home where you would send a dollie in that way would be a poor little house, and would not such an elegant dollie be out of place, and not feel as much at home as a plainer and more simply dresfjed one would ? " Daisy slowly shook her head. " She cannot feel, you know. Miss Webster ; I have to keep remembering that all the time, or else I could not sell them, nor give them away, nor any thing; so, even if things are not comfortable, she \7ill not mind ; and the little girl is sure to love beautiful things almost more, 1 think some* times, because she is poor, and hasn't any thing very pretty of her own. And beside. Miss Webster, Jesus left heaven, you know, and oame down here and was poor, and hadn't even where to lay his head," A BAPPY MOTHER. 883 Misa Webster was utterly silent, and there was such a mist in her eyes she could hardly see the little face which had turned again to the beautiful dollie, and with folded hands and fixed gaze was studying it. Before this Mies Webster had bowed to and motioned in Mr. Holden, who had appeared at the open door. His eyes danced with mirth at first, then soft- ened into something very like reverence, as he listened to this unusual rea&oning from a child. He came over presently to where Daisy knelt, and dropped on one knee beside her. " Do not be troubled, Daisy dear," ho said ; " we often find it hard to give our best while we are here, and cannot see Him plainly; but He IS so good that He accepts the gift and loves the giver, even though she has little quivers of wanting to keep her treasures for herself. One of these days you and I will have learned to love Him so much that we shall be only glad to give everything to Him." Daisy turned toward him, smiling gently, "I thank you," she said, with sweet gravity, whereupon she gave instant attention to Bobby, who thought he had been ulent and unnoticed long enough. 864 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. "That is very strong meat, Richard," Miss Webster said, smiling, as she too brushed away a tear. "I know it; bnt the child is an unusual one." And I*m sure I hope you know what those two grown-up people meant; there was cer- tainly no meat in the room ! So Daisy, you see, knew something about selfish qualmp, though the little Alice's form of it did not touch her. She had another talk with Miss Webster about the beautiful dollie. " I have quite decided," she said, taking neat last stitches in the long white dress she was making. " I wonder that I could have wanted to keep it. There was one thing I did not think of at first ; as soon as I did all the * want to * went away. I should not have minded for Dee's sake, because she is pretty enough, but ^ there is my poor Arabella Aurelia might have been hurt. I would not have her feelings hurt for any thing in the world ; and if I had thought of that in the first place there would not have been any hard to it." Miss Webster waited a moment to steady her voice so there should be no hint of a laugh in it before she said^ "I understand; but I wonder A HAPPY MOTHER. 386 that that thought did not trouble you when Dee Dunmore came." "That was different," said Daisy, with deci- sion; "Dee was my very own from the first minute ; there was never any thing to decide, but here there was." Then, after a moment's pause, "Do you think. Miss Webster, that Ara- bella Aurelia would like better to wear a sash, or just to be in plain white from head to foot?" " I really do not feel equal to deciding that question," said Miss Webster gravely; "your plans for Arabella Aurelia have been so entirely unUke what I supposed they would be, that I believe you are the best judge." Daisy turned on her somewhat anxious eyes. " Do you mean that you are not sure about her liking it?" she asked, with gentle gravity. " Tou see she is so different from any of the others — without any arms, or feet, or even nose — that I thought if I dressed her in just white, with everything as clean and neat as I could make it, and took every stitch myself, she would like it. I have let Line and the young ladies help with all the others ; even my dear Dee Line made a hat for, and looped hiBr 886 MISS DEE DUN MORE BRYANT. dress, but nobody has touched my poor Ara- bella Aurelia*s things but myself." Was there ever a smaller and sweeter picture of the sublimity of mother-love? Poor little deformed, wooden Arabella Aurelia, without even a nose, to receive patient and unremitting care, while the beautiful Dee had her adorn- ments furnished by other hands. "I never know whether to laugh or cry," said Miss Webster, **when you get to asking me questions," and she contented herself with kissing the little mother rapturously. And so the fair took place, and was in all re- spects a most remarkable success. If you could have seen the dollies of every grade which swarmed in the rooms you would have been sure of it. It was also very largely attended. All the afternoon and evening the rooms were thronged, and to Daisy's great astonishment Mrs. Dunmore sent cake and cream to be served to each caller. *'Do they do that at fairs?" she had asked Ben, with wide-open, pleased eyes. It was certainly a very pleasant thing to do ; but she went to a fair once, and felt sure it was omitted then. A HAPPY MOTHER. 387 "Not commonly," said Ben, trying not to laugh ; '^ this is in some respects an uncommon occasion." Before the day was over Daisy felt sure he was right. Another surprise awaited her. The committee of award, after sitting apart in solemn session for nearly an hour, note-books in hand, earnestly discussing the merits of the different wax and wooden ladies under their charge, brought in a unanimous report which nearly took Daisy's breath away. Behold, of all the elegant Boston, New York, and even Parisian beauties who had adorned the grand stand, Arabella Aurelia had been singled out as the one to take the prize. "It is not that there are not more elegantly-dressed dolls," explained the isweet-voiced lady who acted as chairman of the committee, "or more beautiful ones as regards form and features ; but your committee understood that nothing of this kind was to be taken into consideration. The giver of the prize expressly stipulated that it should be pre- sented to the doUie who was most appropriately and most carefully dressed, as regarded small details. Keeping these instructions in mind, we have no hesitancy in saying that Miss Ara> 388 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. bella Aurelia beyond all qaestion has won the prize. Her dress is not only exquisitely appro- priate to early childhood, but every article upon her is made with the most painstaking neat- ness. Every stitch has app -rently been set with a view to being as nearly right as possible. Other dollies, upon whom much care has been bestowed, have failed when it came to an ex- amination of the button-holes; those on Ara- bella Aurelia's ^\ ardrobe would do credit to a tailor. Still other children, looking very well on the surface, have been basted together, or pins have been made to ser^re where needle and thread are generally used ; aothing of this kind appears about Arabella Aurelia. In short, she is in most perfect and careful order from head to foot, and in the estimation of your commit- tee the mere accident of her not possessing arms or hands, or even a nose, had nothing to do with the qualifications to be considered in awarding the prize; we therefore do unani- mously vote that the five-dollar gold piece be hung about the neck of Arabella Aurelia Bryant." Great was the df light of the company over this happy result. They could not be restrained A HAPPY MOTHEB. 889 from breaking into a general clapping of hands, and one yenturesome boy even hinted at tho propriety of giving Arabella Aurelia three cheers, but he was promptly silenced, for Mr. Holden had mounted a chair, and was thanking the committee in the name of that young lady, and the people generally in the name of Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant, for their cordial and substantial patronage. It seemed for a time as though the Bryant family would not get to rest that night. Even after they had torn themselves away from Miss Webster's rooms and were at home, they were too much excited, and too eager all to talk at once, to think of going to bed. What a wondeiiul time it had been ! How many people had come whom they had had no idea of seeing ! What a triumph for Arabella Aurelia! How funny it was for Mr. Holden to buy ** Sally." And to think that he should pay four dollars for her I What an almost alarm- ing amount of money had been made — actur ally fifty-seven dollars and forty-three cents in Daisy's strong little "safe," to say nothing of the five-dollar gold piece at this moment sus- pended by a white ribbon from Arabella Aure- 890 MISS DEE DUNMORE BRYANT. \\\ I I < ! lia's neck. "It is well you have a neck, my lady," Ben bad said, "if you haven't any nose.** And Fanny Kedwin, standing beside him watch- ing while he fastened the ribbon, said, ** I told Daisy I thought it was silly in her to take so much pains with those button-holes, but it seems it paid." "It nearly always pays to take pains with things," said that young man sagely, and he thought within himself how much alike Fanny and Rufus Kedwin were. Beside the fifty-seven dollars there were twenty-four new dollies left in stock. Where had all the money come from? Nobody seemed to know. Is it any wonder that they were ex- cited? Mrs. Bryant did get Daisy tucked away at last, with Arabella Aurelia beside her, and Line went to see that all was as it should be in the store, leaving Ben and his mother alone for a moment in the little kitchen. "It has been a great success, hasn't it, my boy ? " the mother said. "Splendid!" said Ben. "I have been so busy helping to get ready, and then seeing it through, that I haven't had a chance to tell you something. I've got regular work. Judge A HAPPY AfOTHER. 391 Dunmore recommended me to that Mr. WeU ford, who has an office on Main Street ; he is a lawyer, you know, and it seems he wants copy- ing done, and letters written, and things of that kind regula y ; and Vm to go there after- noons after this, as long as I suit, he said. And mornings I can have, through the summer, for extra pieces of work which he says he can find me ; and by fall he thinks I can keep my place in the office and go to school to recite. Judge Dunmore says Mr. Welford will pay me a good fair price for my work — as much as I could earn anywhere. What do you think of that?" ** I think it is just splendid ! " said Mrs. Bryant heartily. " I always knew my children would make a way out of ray perplexities for me, but I did not think they could do it so effectually so soon. What with your and Line's and Daisy's faithful help, we really begin to see daylight ; and I believe with all my heart, Ben, that the education for all of you will come. I like the school part almost better than any of it, 1 believe." " So do I," said Ben heartily ; " that means Line, too, you know; we'll start in together when we start. And, mother, there's one thing 892 MI88 DEE DUN MORE BRYANT, more ; I promised myself I would tell yon be- fore I slept again, though I don't exactly know how." The mother turned on him a tender yet anxious look, and spoke quickly. ** What is it, my boy? Have you gotten into any trouble, or done something you don't quite like? Don't be afraid to tell mother." Ben laughed a little at that, though his face sobered instantly. "No, mother, it is no trouble, it is good, only I don't quite know how to tell such things. I've become a soldier — enlisted for life, Mr. Holden calls it ^ and the Lord Jesus Christ is my Captain. I thought you would like to know." Then that mother folded both arms about her boy, and kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, and there was such a light in her eyes as he will never forget. "My dear, dear boy I "she said, "no other news that you can ever give me will be half so grand as this. Now, indeed, mother's heart is at rest." be- low yet s it, ble, )ii»t aoe no ow lier tnd ^t >ut Id, ree ler so is