Our Young Folks at Home and Abroad Part 37

When the elder sister at last succeeded in calming her, she told the whole story of her afternoon's work.

Together they counted the money--three dollars and eighty-five cents--just think of it!

If ever there was a happy, excited little girl, it was Katie that night. She could not sleep or eat. When she _had to_ go to bed, she lay awake long, long hours, thinking how _she_ would buy back the big house, how mother should have doctors and every thing she needed, how Bessie should stop teaching and have a horse and little carriage, and pretty dresses, and a piano, like she used to, and how Robbie should go to school and college and grow up to be a great man and finally be President. She never thought of herself, except that _she_ was to do all this, and when she fell asleep she dreamed the whole thing over again, and that it had turned out just as she planned.

All through the excursion season Katie sold her leaves, and though she never made as much as on the first day, yet when people stopped coming she had over one hundred dollars in Bessie's hands, all made by herself, all made by being up early and attending to her household duties and working hard so as to have her bunches ready by the time that visitors were returning to the train.

She was brave, and true, and unselfish, and her reward was great.

It was one chill November evening, toward Thanksgiving day, that she and Robbie had wandered out among the mountain paths; the little fellow was wild as a colt and ran here and there until it was all Katie could do to keep track of him. Finally she caught him; both were tired out, and when she looked around, to her great terror, she could not make out just where they were. They wandered along and at last came to a road, but she did not know which way to go. Robbie was cross and sleepy; she could not carry the heavy boy, and he _would_ lay down; at last she let him rest. He dropped by a fallen log and in a moment was asleep. She covered him with a little cloth cape she wore, and sat down beside him; her eyes were heavy, she nodded, and very soon was as sound as he.

Along the road came a thin, old, but active man; he stepped out firmly and aided his steps with a stout cane. It was after dusk of the evening. He spied something in the gloom, on the other side of the road, something unusual; he crossed over; it was a little girl leaning against a big, fallen tree and a small boy stretched on the ground beside it; both were fast asleep. He touched the girl's shoulder; she sprang up. "Oh!" she gasped, "don't hurt Robbie! We weren't doing any harm, indeed we weren't."

"What are you doing here any how?" he inquired.

"It was Robbie, no, it was me, he was so sleepy and so was I, and we were just resting until we could start and try to find home again."

"Um! so you're lost, are you?"

"No, sir, I guess not only--only we don't know the way."

"Well, I should say that's pretty near being lost. Where do you live?

What's your name?"

"We live in the old Mill cottage, and my name's Katie Wilson, and Robbie's is Robert T. Wilson."

"Um! um! Yes; well, I know where you live; come along, I'll put you right. Come! wake up here, young man!" and he gently poked Robbie with his cane. But Robbie was sleepy and cross, and cried and kicked, and it was all Katie could do to get him on his feet and moving. Then as they went slowly on, she holding her brother's hand, her own in that of the stranger, he asked her: "Weren't you frightened to be out all alone?"

"Why, no, sir," she answered. "I was frightened for mother and Bessie being worried, but not for us; I just said my prayers and covered Robbie, and then I fell asleep and didn't know any thing until you woke me up."

"Um! said your prayers, did you!" and the old man stopped and looked at her.

"See here, Katie!" he said, in a very gentle voice, "say your prayers for me, I'd like to hear them."

The child looked at him in astonishment and trouble. Could it be that the gentleman could not say his prayers for himself, that he did not pray himself! "Oh, sir!" she said, with choking voice and tears in her eyes, "I can't say them to you, only to Bessie or mother: It's just G.o.d bless mother, and Bessie and Robbie and me, and take care of us in the night and day, and--and that's all, sir."

"Well, never mind now, little Katie, come along, we must get Robbie home to the mother and Bessie soon, or they'll think the bears have eaten you both," and the old man's voice was still more gentle, and he hurried as fast as the little ones could go. He knew the roads well, and in half an hour they were on a path that the children were well acquainted with, and near home.

There was a cry of joy, and Bessie sprang upon the little ones at a bend in the road and gathered them in her arms, and kissed and scolded and petted them, all at the same time.

The old gentleman hurried away as soon as he saw they were safe; but he did not go far; he stepped back in the dark and heard Katie tell the tale of adventure and take all the blame herself, and excuse Robbie, and talk about the kind gentleman who had found them and brought them home, and wonder where he had gone so quickly before she had time to thank him. He followed them at a distance; he saw them enter their home, and he watched outside until the lamp was lighted in the little sitting-room; then he came near the window and looked in; he watched while the sick, half-blind mother cried over her children; he saw pale, sweet-faced Bessie comforting all; he stood there an hour without noticing the cold and wind that grew about him. He saw brave, hard-working Bessie, and true Katie, and the little boy, and the mother of all, kneel at their chairs, and he thought he could hear the prayers of thanks that came from the hearts of all and the lips of the older sister, and he felt drops upon his cheek, not rain, but tears--tears. It had been many years since his eyes had been wet with tears, but they were there and they softened the heart of "hard old man" Moore, and he turned away at last with a strange resolution in his mind.

Three days after he was in the sitting-room of that cottage; with him was his son Philip, by Philip's side was Bessie, looking ever so much younger and prettier, and _so_, _so_ happy, and standing by the side of "hard old man" Moore was little Katie, wondering to see such an old man wipe the tears from his eyes, wondering at the way in which he held one arm close around her, and wondering still more why he should keep saying, all the time, "You did it, little Katie, you did it all."

The Wilsons are comfortable and happy now. Bessie is Mrs. Philip Moore; the mother has doctors and luxuries; Robbie is at school and learning fast; Katie, _our_ Katie, is learning fast also, but she is still the same Katie as of old; she did not have to sell bunches of leaves another season; but there are always great bouquets of the beauties in the house, and old Mr. Moore, "hard" no longer, calls her nothing but his little "Autumn leaf."

[Ill.u.s.tration: {BIRDS ON A TWIG.}]

THE SPINNING LESSON.

MRS. S. J. BRIGHAM.

You will not mind, if I sit me down And watch you spin, in your velvet gown?

You need not fear, You can trust me here.

I think I can learn to spin, if I Could watch you work. Will you let me try?

You spin and weave, but I cannot see Just how 'tis done, and it puzzles me.

For you have no loom In your little room.

No silken skein, no spinning-wheel, No bobbin and no winding reel.

Please tell me what you use instead?

And where do you hide your s.h.i.+ning thread, As soft as silk And as white as milk?

I think, Mrs. Spider, it must be A secret, or you would answer me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TREED.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: FOSTER PARENTS.]

FOSTER PARENTS.

Strolling down back of the barn, and seeing a fluttering of wings near the ground, Fred and John discovered, upon coming closer, that a poor little bird had fallen from its nest in the bough of a tree that stood near them. The bird was young, too young to fly, and seemed more dead than alive from the fall. The boys took the bird, fondly caressed it, stroked its feathers, and were glad to see that it showed signs of life and that it was only stunned by the fall it had received. The boys were kind-hearted, they were boys full of life, the first-most in a race, in climbing a hill they among the first who stood on its top.

Yet in all their sports they were never cruel. So with the bird, they only thought of how to care for it. The tree was too tall to climb with safety, and then they were forbidden to climb this tree because John had once ventured to the first of its branches and by some accident, such as will happen to boys, he lost his hold and tumbled to the ground and he still remembered the days of pain it caused.

Said Fred, "Why can we not take the bird home and care for it?"

So, with this suggestion, they brought it to the house and placed it in a small basket. The basket was one they used to carry their dinners to school in, and, of course, this could not be used to keep it in all the time. John said, "It will be best to make a cage for it. We can, with our knives, soon whittle out sticks for bars and with the saw and some boards make a cage." They labored on this for two days, and then, with Uncle Ben's help, for he could drive nails better than they, the cage was completed. Some cotton was shaped into a nest and the bird was placed in it and the cage was its home.

They fed it on berries and crumbs and it grew rapidly. It soon learned to perch on one of the boy's fingers and pick its food from his hand.

When it had eaten enough it would fly to his shoulder and seem quite contented. In due time it became full grown, and though it seemed to know and appreciate the attention given it by the boys, yet it seemed to long for more freedom than the little cage afforded. The boys noticed this, and with sad hearts concluded it would be cruel to keep it confined and so gave it its freedom. For some time it lingered around the house, in branches of the trees, but finally it flew away to the woods.

HAYMAKING.

Many a long hard-working day Life brings us! And many an hour of play; But they never come now together, Playing at work, and working in play, As they came to us children among the hay, In the breath of the warm June weather.