Better than Play Part 6

Another winter pa.s.sed over the little household, a happy one, on the whole, in spite of stormy scenes at times with Aunt Emma, sharp words and sharp answers. The boys, as they grew older, found it harder to bear with her short, cold answers, her sharp commands, and constant snubbings of them in almost everything they said and did. Bella, who had never quite recovered from the shock of the scene when her aunt had beaten her so unmercifully, had an anxious time trying to stave off quarrels between them, and soften harsh words and pert answers, which might lead to them.

Bella had never forgotten that dreadful Monday, nor had she ever forgotten the talk with Aunt Maggie after, and the aim she had set before herself to do her best to make the house more comfortable and happy, and more what her mother would have made it had she been alive. She often failed, very often, in fact, and often despaired, but she never quite gave in, or, if she did, it was for a little while only.

There were many hills to climb on the road she had chosen, but there were many pleasant valleys too, and if sometimes her feet faltered and stumbled, and she felt weary and disheartened, and looked at the next hill hopelessly, feeling that she never could mount it, there were also happy hours, and sweet flowers and suns.h.i.+ne to cheer her, and sometimes there was such a feeling of hope and joy over all as made her heart sing and her spirits dance. For the house really was tidier and less neglected, her father came home regularly now, and was with them more, and she herself had something to do, some object in life, some work that she could do herself, and take a pride in.

Thus it was, when the spring came that was to bring such changes to their lives, such steep hills to climb that they wondered sometimes if there was any valley beyond, where they could rest a little, or any suns.h.i.+ne anywhere, so heavy were the shadows.

Bella's flower-beds were a picture that year, and her herb-bed too, with its great sprays of curly parsley, and bushes of mint and thyme, sage and borage. In fact, all the garden was a goodly sight, and no one would have recognised it for the garden of a year ago. There were rows of peas and beans, just coming to perfection, and every other kind of vegetable that s.p.a.ce could be found for. The fruit bushes were laden with promise of supplies in store, and already Miss Hender was making jam of the rhubarb, which filled up one corner of the garden with its handsome great leaves.

"It does seem a pity sometimes that I can't do more with all my flowers,"

said Bella one day. She had carried a glorious bunch of sweet peas and a basket of vegetables to Mrs. Langley. "I give away a good many, but most people have their own, and don't really want any more, and they just grow and flower and fade, and n.o.body but ourselves see them. Aunt Emma won't let me bring in more than one little bunch at a time, so they just waste, and it does seem a pity when there's a lot, and all so pretty."

Mrs. Langley looked at her lovely nosegay thoughtfully. "Child," she said at last, "why don't you do up some bunches, and carry them into Norton on a market day, or any other day, and try to sell them? Why, I've known my missis, when I was in service, give s.h.i.+llings for flowers no better than you bring me day after day, and not as fresh and strong either, by a long way."

"Sell my--flowers!" The suggestion, coming so suddenly, made Bella gasp.

"Oh, but, Aunt Maggie, how could I? I should have to go to people's houses and ask them to buy, shouldn't I? I don't believe I'd ever be able to make up my mind to." Bella looked alarmed at the mere idea, but though alarmed she was also pleased with the daring suggestion, and her cheeks grew rosy red with excitement. Mrs. Langley nodded thoughtfully, but she did not reply at once. With many girls she would not have approved of such a plan, but she thought Bella could be trusted.

"Yes," she said at last, "I think you could be trusted, child, not to grow bold and rude and pus.h.i.+ng, even if you had to ask people to buy your flowers. You might, perhaps, be able to arrange with a florist to take all you had every week. Of course, he would want to make a profit, so you wouldn't get so much for them, but you would be saved a good deal of time and trouble, maybe."

"Oh, but, Aunt Maggie, do you think I could? Do you think I should ever sell any?"

Bella was still half bewildered by the suddenness and boldness of the new proposal. There were so many sides to it, too, pleasant and unpleasant.

It would be splendid, she thought, to be able to turn her garden to account, and to feel her lovely flowers were not wasted. It would be splendid, too, to be able to put her money each week in her money-box.

She had been longing for some time past to be able to buy a gla.s.s frame to protect some of her seedlings through the winter,--and who knew but what her flowers would make this possible for her? The thought thrilled her.

On the other hand, she did shrink shyly from the prospect of going up to people and asking them to buy, and also from the thought of what her father and Aunt Emma would say. She mentioned this last thought to Aunt Maggie.

"If you would really like me to," said Mrs. Langley, "I will speak of it to your father before you do, and then, if he falls in with the plan, he can talk to your aunt about it. You see, Bella, child, there is another thing to bear in mind. You are nearly fourteen now, and before very long you'll have to be thinking about earning your living, and you'll have to go to service, or think of some way of earning it at home."

"I've been thinking of that, Aunt Maggie;" and a moment later she added sadly, "and if I went to service I'd have to leave all my flowers."

"Of course you would, dear. It would be a great loss to you, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," sighed Bella, realising for a moment how great a loss it would be, "I don't believe I could ever bear it."

Aunt Maggie smiled sadly. "You could, dear. You will have far harder trials than that to bear, I am afraid, or you will be more than fortunate," and she added after a moment's silence, "We can make our garden wherever we are, and plant our seeds, and raise our flowers."

"Not in service, Aunt Maggie?" cried Bella, incredulously, "they wouldn't give me a bit of ground, would they, anywhere I went?"

Mrs. Langley smiled. "They might in some places where the servant makes it her home, and the mistress tries to make it a real home to her, they let her have a little bit of ground to call her own. But I was thinking, dear, of another kind of garden,--the garden of life, where we can sow good seed or bad, and raise flowers, where we and others have to tread.

Flowers of patience and honesty, good-temper, willingness, and cheerfulness. They are very precious flowers to most people, for few get many such along the way they have to tread; and a sunny smile or a cheery word, or a kind act will often lighten the whole of a dull, hard day.

Don't ever forget to grow those flowers, my dear, or to shed suns.h.i.+ne wherever G.o.d may order you to dwell."

"Does G.o.d order that, Aunt Maggie? Does He tell people where they must go? and shall I have to do as He tells me, and go where He sends me?"

"Yes, dear, and you can trust Him. He will only send you where you are needed, and where it is best for you to be."

Bella went home in a very, very thoughtful mood that night. "I wonder where G.o.d is going to send me, and what work He has for me to do?"

The idea filled her mind until, as she reached home, the thought suddenly rushed into her head, "I wonder what father will say, when he hears what Aunt Maggie wants to talk to him about!"

What her father did say when first the plan was mooted, was a downright "No! I can keep my children as long as I can work, and Bella can find enough to do at home."

"Yes, I know," answered Aunt Maggie gently, when he had repeated this more than once, and each time more emphatically. "And what about the time when you can't work, William? or, if anything was to happen to you?

Do you think it is right or fair to bring up children without any knowledge that'll earn them a decent, respectable living?"

William Hender had no answer ready, and sat trying in vain to find one.

"If she were to begin in a small way, such as I'm suggesting, who knows but what, in time, she might work up a little business, and be able to make quite a nice little living out of her flowers and things? She has a wonderful gift for raising them and understanding them, and it does seem a sin not to make use of it. Don't you think so?"

William Hender nodded thoughtfully; this new way of looking at things impressed him. He was proud, too, of Bella's skill with her garden, and his thoughts flew beyond the present to the future, where in his mind's eye he saw a tidy little shop well stocked with fruit and flowers and vegetables, and Bella the prosperous owner of it all, and his heart swelled with pride.

"You are right, Maggie," he said, as he rose to go. "You always are, I think. I'll talk to Emma about it, and I'll look about me the next time I go to Norton, and see if there's any shop there that'll be likely to take her flowers. It might be better for her to sell them that way.

Good-night."

Bella's heart beat fast and furious when she heard that her father approved of the scheme, and when the children were told about it they all flew into a state of wild excitement. Of course they all wanted to be market-gardeners at once. "Why can't we all go shares in a stall in Norton Market?" cried Tom. "Bella can sell flowers and herbs, and me vegetables, and Charlie fruit, and Margery----"

"Fairy roses," said Margery eagerly. She always called her flowers that had come so mysteriously 'fairy flowers.'

"I was in Norton Market-house once," went on Tom, "and oh, it's a fine place!"

Norton, their nearest and largest market-town, was five miles off, and as there was no railway to it, and they had no cart to take them, a visit to the town was one of the rarest treats they knew.

When the first excitement had worn off, and Aunt Emma had been talked to and won over, and all that remained to be done was for their father to go to Norton and look out for a florist, matters seemed to go no further.

He was at work on every day of the week except Sat.u.r.day afternoons, and then there was always so much to be done at home he never seemed able to spare the time. Five miles to Norton and five miles back was a long distance to cover, with no other means of covering it than one's own two feet, or a chance 'lift'; and he kept on putting the matter off.

"All my sweet-peas are pa.s.sing," sighed Bella, when another Sat.u.r.day had come and gone, and her father had not again spoken of going to Norton.

"Tom, I've a good mind to go myself next Sat.u.r.day, and take some flowers, and try to sell them. Will you come with me? Do you think you could walk so far?"

Tom was indignant at this reflection on his manliness. "Walk it! I should rather think so! I can if you can, anyhow!"

"It's a good long way," said Bella reflectively; "p'raps we could get a lift home. I wonder if Aunt Emma will let us go? Oh, Tom, I wish she would. I shall hate it at first, but it does seem a pity to waste all my flowers, and I do want to earn some money to buy a hotbed and some more seeds; there's ever so many kinds I want to get."

To their great surprise, Aunt Emma agreed quite willingly to the scheme as soon as she was told of it. She saw nothing to object to in it, she said, and it never entered her head to think that the walk might be too long for either of them. "If Sat.u.r.day turns out wet or rough, you needn't go,"

she said cheerfully.

"I should have to if I'd got customers waiting," thought Bella; but she did not argue the point; she was thankful to have won the permission she wanted, and too fearful of losing it, to run any risks.

How the four children lived through the excitement of the next few days they scarcely knew. For Charlie and Margery there was disappointment mingled with the excitement,--disappointment that they could not go too; but there was much that was thrilling, even for those who stayed at home, and they were promised that they should walk out along the road to meet the others at about the time they would be expected back.

Tom, on the whole, got the most enjoyment out of it all, because for Bella there was a good deal of nervous dread mingled with the excitement and pleasure.

"I do hope I meet with nice customers," she said to Aunt Maggie the day before, when she went down to ask her to help her re-trim her rather shabby Sunday hat for her. "I hope they don't speak sharp when they say they don't want any flowers."

"You generally find folks speak to you as you speak to them," said Aunt Maggie consolingly. "If you are civil, you will most likely meet with civility from others. Look, I've got a large shallow basket here that I thought would do nicely to hold your flowers and show them off prettily.

The cover will help to keep them fresh. You'll have to be up early to gather them, child. And do give them a drink of water before you start.

You'll find they'll last fresh twice as long. In fact, I believe it would be even better to gather them the evening before, and let them stand in water all night, then you would only have to arrange them in bunches before you start."

Bella thanked her delightedly, and ran off home with her new basket and her old hat, feeling as proud and pleased as any child in the land.