FictionForest

Chapter 3 – Sunday

Louisa May AlcottNov 05, 2016'Command+D' Bookmark this page

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The moment the bell rang next morning Nat flew out of bed, and
dressed himself with great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he
found on the chair. They were not new, being half-worn garments
of one of the well-to-do boys; but Mrs. Bhaer kept all such cast-off
feathers for the picked robins who strayed into her nest. They were
hardly on when Tommy appeared in a high state of clean collar,
and escorted Nat down to breakfast.

The sun was shining into the dining-room on the well-spread table,
and the flock of hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it. Nat
observed that they were much more orderly than they had been the
night before, and every one stood silently behind his chair while
little Rob, standing beside his father at the head of the table,
folded his hands, reverently bent his curly head, and softly
repeated a short grace in the devout German fashion, which Mr.
Bhaer loved and taught his little son to honor. Then they all sat
down to enjoy the Sunday-morning breakfast of coffee, steak, and
baked potatoes, instead of the bread and milk fare with which they
usually satisfied their young appetites. There was much pleasant
talk while the knives and forks rattled briskly, for certain Sunday
lessons were to be learned, the Sunday walk settled, and plans for
the week discussed. As he listened, Nat thought it seemed as if this
day must be a very pleasant one, for he loved quiet, and there was
a cheerful sort of hush over every thing that pleased him very
much; because, in spite of his rough life, the boy possessed the
sensitive nerves which belong to a music-loving nature.

"Now, my lads, get your morning jobs done, and let me find you
ready for church when the ‘bus comes round," said Father Bhaer,
and set the example by going into the school-room to get books
ready for the morrow.

Every one scattered to his or her task, for each had some little
daily duty, and was expected to perform it faithfully. Some
brought wood and water, brushed the steps, or ran errands for Mrs.
Bhaer. Others fed the pet animals, and did chores about the barn
with Franz. Daisy washed the cups, and Demi wiped them, for the
twins liked to work together, and Demi had been taught to make
himself useful in the little house at home. Even Baby Teddy had
his small job to do, and trotted to and fro, putting napkins away,
and pushing chairs into their places. For half and hour the lads
buzzed about like a hive of bees, then the ‘bus drove round, Father
Bhaer and Franz with the eight older boys piled in, and away they
went for a three-mile drive to church in town.

Because of the troublesome cough Nat prefered to stay at home
with the four small boys, and spent a happy morning in Mrs.
Bhaer’s room, listening to the stories she read them, learning the
hymns she taught them, and then quietly employing himself
pasting pictures into an old ledger.

"This is my Sunday closet," she said, showing him shelves filled
with picture-books, paint-boxes, architectural blocks, little diaries,
and materials for letter-writing. "I want my boys to love Sunday, to
find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common
study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn, in simple
ways, lessons more important than any taught in school. Do you
understand me?" she asked, watching Nat’s attentive face.

"You mean to be good?" he said, after hesitating a minute.

"Yes; to be good, and to love to be good. It is hard work
sometimes, I know very well; but we all help one another, and so
we get on. This is one of the ways in which I try to help my boys,"
and she took down a thick book, which seemed half-full of writing,
and opened at a page on which there was one word at the top.

"Why, that’s my name!" cried Nat, looking both surprised and
interested.

"Yes; I have a page for each boy. I keep a little account of how he
gets on through the week, and Sunday night I show him the record.
If it is bad I am sorry and disappointed, if it is good I am glad and
proud; but, whichever it is, the boys know I want to help them, and
they try to do their best for love of me and Father Bhaer."

"I should think they would," said Nat, catching a glimpse of
Tommy’s name opposite his own, and wondering what was written
under it.

Mrs. Bhaer saw his eye on the words, and shook her head, saying,
as she turned a leaf

"No, I don’t show my records to any but the one to whom each
belongs. I call this my conscience book; and only you and I will
ever know what is to be written on the page below your name.
Whether you will be pleased or ashamed to read it next Sunday
depends on yourself. I think it will be a good report; at any rate, I
shall try to make things easy for you in this new place, and shall be
quite contented if you keep our few rules, live happily with the
boys, and learn something."

"I’ll try ma’am;" and Nat’s thin face flushed up with the earnestness
of his desire to make Mrs. Bhaer "glad and proud," not "sorry and
disappointed." "It must be a great deal of trouble to write about so
many," he added, as she shut her book with an encouraging pat on
the shoulder.

"Not to me, for I really don’t know which I like best, writing or
boys," she said, laughing to see Nat stare with astonishment at the
last item. "Yes, I know many people think boys are a nuisance, but
that is because they don’t understand them. I do; and I never saw
the boy yet whom I could not get on capitally with after I had once
found the soft spot in his heart. Bless me, I couldn’t get on at all
without my flock of dear, noisy, naughty, harum-scarum little lads,
could I, my Teddy?" and Mrs. Bhaer hugged the young rogue, just
in time to save the big inkstand from going into his pocket.

Nat, who had never heard anything like this before, really did not
know whether Mother Bhaer was a trifle crazy, or the most
delightful woman he had ever met. He rather inclined to the latter
opinion, in spite of her peculiar tastes, for she had a way of filling
up a fellow’s plate before he asked, of laughing at his jokes, gently
tweaking him by the ear, or clapping him on the shoulder, that Nat
found very engaging.

"Now, I think you would like to go into the school-room and
practise some of the hymns we are to sing to-night," she said,
rightly guessing the thing of all others that he wanted to do.

Alone with the beloved violin and the music-book propped up
before him in the sunny window, while Spring beauty filled the
world outside, and Sabbath silence reigned within, Nat enjoyed an
hour or two of genuine happiness, learning the sweet old tunes,
and forgetting the hard past in the cheerful present.

When the church-goers came back and dinner was over, every one
read, wrote letters home, said their Sunday lessons, or talked
quietly to one another, sitting here and there about the house. At
three o’clock the entire family turned out to walk, for all the active
young bodies must have exercise; and in these walks the active
young minds were taught to see and love the providence of God in
the beautiful miracles which Nature was working before their eyes.
Mr. Bhaer always went with them, and in his simple, fatherly way,
found for his flock, "Sermons in stones, books in the running
brooks, and good in everything."

Mrs. Bhaer with Daisy and her own two boys drove into town, to
pay the weekly visit to Grandma, which was busy Mother Bhaer’s
one holiday and greatest pleasure. Nat was not strong enough for
the long walk, and asked to stay at home with Tommy, who kindly
offered to do the honors of Plumfield. "You’ve seen the house, so
come out and have a look at the garden, and the barn, and the
menagerie," said Tommy, when they were left alone with Asia, to
see that they didn’t get into mischief; for, though Tommy was one
of the best-meaning boys who ever adorned knickerbockers,
accidents of the most direful nature were always happening to him,
no one could exactly tell how.

"What is your menagerie?" asked Nat, as they trotted along the
drive that encircled the house.

"We all have pets, you see, and we keep ’em in the corn-barn, and
call it the menagerie. Here you are. Isn’t my guinea-pig a beauty?"
and Tommy proudly presented one of the ugliest specimens of that
pleasing animal that Nat ever saw.

"I know a boy with a dozen of ’em, and he said he’d give me one,
only I hadn’t any place to keep it, so I couldn’t have it. It was white,
with black spots, a regular rouser, and maybe I could get it for you
if you’d like it," said Nat, feeling it would be a delicate return for
Tommy’s attentions.

"I’d like it ever so much, and I’ll give you this one, and they can
live together if they don’t fight. Those white mice are Rob’s, Franz
gave ’em to him. The rabbits are Ned’s, and the bantams outside
are Stuffy’s. That box thing is Demi’s turtle-tank, only he hasn’t
begun to get ’em yet. Last year he had sixty-two, whackers some of
’em. He stamped one of ’em with his name and the year, and let it
go; and he says maybe he will find it ever so long after and know
it. He read about a turtle being found that had a mark on it that
showed it must be hundreds of years old. Demi’s such a funny
chap."

"What is in this box?" asked Nat, stopping before a large deep one,
half-full of earth.

"Oh, that’s Jack Ford’s worm-shop. He digs heaps of ’em and keeps
’em here, and when we want any to go afishing with, we buy some
of him. It saves lots of trouble, only he charged too much for ’em.
Why, last time we traded I had to pay two cents a dozen, and then
got little ones. Jack’s mean sometimes, and I told him I’d dig for
myself if he didn’t lower his prices. Now, I own two hens, those
gray ones with top knots, first-rate ones they are too, and I sell
Mrs. Bhaer the eggs, but I never ask her more than twenty-five
cents a dozen, never! I’d be ashamed to do it," cried Tommy, with
a glance of scorn at the worm-shop.

"Who owns the dogs?" asked Nat, much interested in these
commercial transactions, and feeling that T. Bangs was a man
whom it would be a privilege and a pleasure to patronize.

"The big dog is Emil’s. His name is Christopher Columbus. Mrs.
Bhaer named him because she likes to say Christopher Columbus,
and no one minds it if she means the dog," answered Tommy, in
the tone of a show-man displaying his menagerie. "The white pup
is Rob’s, and the yellow one is Teddy’s. A man was going to drown
them in our pond, and Pa Bhaer wouldn’t let him. They do well
enough for the little chaps, I don’t think much of ’em myself. Their
names are Castor and Pollux."

"I’d like Toby the donkey best, if I could have anything, it’s so nice
to ride, and he’s so little and good," said Nat, remembering the
weary tramps he had taken on his own tired feet.

"Mr. Laurie sent him out to Mrs. Bhaer, so she shouldn’t carry
Teddy on her back when we go to walk. We’re all fond of Toby,
and he’s a first-rate donkey, sir. Those pigeons belong to the whole
lot of us, we each have our pet one, and go shares in all the little
ones as they come along. Squabs are great fun; there ain’t any now,
but you can go up and take a look at the old fellows, while I see if
Cockletop and Granny have laid any eggs."

Nat climbed up a ladder, put his head through a trap door and took
a long look at the pretty doves billing and cooing in their spacious
loft. Some on their nests, some bustling in and out, and some
sitting at their doors, while many went flying from the sunny
housetop to the straw-strewn farmyard, where six sleek cows were
placidly ruminating.

"Everybody has got something but me. I wish I had a dove, or a
hen, or even a turtle, all my own," thought Nat, feeling very poor
as he saw the interesting treasures of the other boys. "How do you
get these things?" he asked, when he joined Tommy in the barn.

"We find ’em or buy ’em, or folks give ’em to us. My father sends
me mine; but as soon as I get egg money enough, I’m going to buy
a pair of ducks. There’s a nice little pond for ’em behind the barn,
and people pay well for duck-eggs, and the little duckies are pretty,
and it’s fun to see ’em swim," said Tommy, with the air of a
millionaire.

Nat sighed, for he had neither father nor money, nothing in the
wide world but an old empty pocketbook, and the skill that lay in
his ten finger tips. Tommy seemed to understand the question and
the sigh which followed his answer, for after a moment of deep
thought, he suddenly broke out,

"Look here, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you will hunt eggs for me, I
hate it, I’ll give you one egg out of every dozen. You keep account,
and when you’ve had twelve, Mother Bhaer will give you
twenty-five cents for ’em, and then you can buy what you like,
don’t you see?"

"I’ll do it! What a kind feller you are, Tommy!" cried Nat, quite
dazzled by this brilliant offer.

"Pooh! that is not anything. You begin now and rummage the barn,
and I’ll wait here for you. Granny is cackling, so you’re sure to find
one somewhere," and Tommy threw himself down on the hay with
a luxurious sense of having made a good bargain, and done a
friendly thing.

Nat joyfully began his search, and went rustling from loft to loft
till he found two fine eggs, one hidden under a beam, and the other
in an old peck measure, which Mrs. Cockletop had appropriated.

"You may have one and I’ll have the other, that will just make up
my last dozen, and to-morrow we’ll start fresh.

Here, you chalk your accounts up near mine, and then we’ll be all
straight," said Tommy, showing a row of mysterious figures on the
side of an old winnowing machine.

With a delightful sense of importance, the proud possessor of one
egg opened his account with his friend, who laughingly wrote
above the figures these imposing words,

"T. Bangs & Co."

Poor Nat found them so fascinating that he was with difficulty
persuaded to go and deposit his first piece of portable property in
Asia’s store-room. Then they went on again, and having made the
acquaintance of the two horses, six cows, three pigs, and one
Alderney "Bossy," as calves are called in New England, Tommy
took Nat to a certain old willow-tree that overhung a noisy little
brook. From the fence it was an easy scramble into a wide niche
between the three big branches, which had been cut off to send out
from year to year a crowd of slender twigs, till a green canopy
rustled overhead. Here little seats had been fixed, and a hollow
place a closet made big enough to hold a book or two, a
dismantled boat, and several half-finished whistles.

"This is Demi’s and my private place; we made it, and nobody can
come up unless we let ’em, except Daisy, we don’t mind her," said
Tommy, as Nat looked with delight from the babbling brown water
below to the green arch above, where bees were making a musical
murmur as they feasted on the long yellow blossoms that filled the
air with sweetness.

"Oh, it’s just beautiful!" cried Nat. "I do hope you’ll let me up
sometimes. I never saw such a nice place in all my life. I’d like to
be a bird, and live here always."

"It is pretty nice. You can come if Demi don’t mind, and I guess he
won’t, because he said last night that he liked you."

"Did he?" and Nat smiled with pleasure, for Demi’s regard seemed
to be valued by all the boys, partly because he was Father Bhaer’s
nephew, and partly because he was such a sober, conscientious
little fellow.

"Yes; Demi likes quiet chaps, and I guess he and you will get on if
you care about reading as he does."

Poor Nat’s flush of pleasure deepened to a painful scarlet at those
last words, and he stammered out,

I can’t read very well; I never had any time; I was always fiddling
round, you know."

"I don’t love it myself, but I can do it well enough when I want to,"
said Tommy, after a surprised look, which said as plainly as words,
"A boy twelve years old and can’t read!"

"I can read music, anyway," added Nat, rather ruffled at having to
confess his ignorance.

"I can’t;" and Tommy spoke in a respectful tone, which
emboldened Nat to say firmly,

"I mean to study real hard and learn every thing I can, for I never
had a chance before. Does Mr. Bhaer give hard lessons?"

"No; he isn’t a bit cross; he sort of explains and gives you a boost
over the hard places. Some folks don’t; my other master didn’t. If
we missed a word, didn’t we get raps on the head!" and Tommy
rubbed his own pate as if it tingled yet with the liberal supply of
raps, the memory of which was the only thing he brought away
after a year with his "other master."

"I think I could read this," said Nat, who had been examining the
books.

"Read a bit, then; I’ll help you," resumed Tommy, with a
patronizing air.

So Nat did his best, and floundered through a page with may
friendly "boosts" from Tommy, who told him he would soon "go
it" as well as anybody. Then they sat and talked boy-fashion about
all sorts of things, among others, gardening; for Nat, looking down
from his perch, asked what was planted in the many little patches
lying below them on the other side of the brook.

"These are our farms," said Tommy. "We each have our own
patch, and raise what we like in it, only have to choose different
things, and can’t change till the crop is in, and we must keep it in
order all summer."

"What are you going to raise this year?"

"Wal, I cattleated to hev beans, as they are about the easiest crop
a-goin’."

Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had pushed back his hat,
put his hands in his pockets, and drawled out his words in
unconscious imitation of Silas, the man who managed the place for
Mr. Bhaer.

"Come, you needn’t laugh; beans are ever so much easier than corn
or potatoes. I tried melons last year, but the bugs were a bother,
and the old things wouldn’t get ripe before the frost, so I didn’t
have but one good water and two little ‘mush mellions,’ " said
Tommy, relapsing into a "Silasism" with the last word.

"Corn looks pretty growing," said Nat, politely, to atone for his
laugh.

"Yes, but you have to hoe it over and over again. Now, six weeks’
beans only have to be done once or so, and they get ripe soon. I’m
going to try ’em, for I spoke first. Stuffy wanted ’em, but he’s got to
take peas; they only have to be picked, and he ought to do it, he
eats such a lot."

"I wonder if I shall have a garden?" said Nat, thinking that even
corn-hoeing must be pleasant work.

"Of course you will," said a voice from below, and there was Mr.
Bhaer returned from his walk, and come to find them, for he
managed to have a little talk with every one of the lads some time
during the day, and found that these chats gave them a good start
for the coming week.

Sympathy is a sweet thing, and it worked wonders here, for each
boy knew that Father Bhaer was interested in him, and some were
readier to open their hearts to him than to a woman, especially the
older ones, who liked to talk over their hopes and plans, man to
man. When sick or in trouble they instinctively turned to Mrs. Jo,
while the little ones made her their mother-confessor on all
occasions.

In descending from their nest, Tommy fell into the brook; being
used to it, he calmly picked himself out and retired to the house to
be dried. This left Nat to Mr. Bhaer, which was just what he
wished, and, during the stroll they took among the garden plots, he
won the lad’s heart by giving him a little "farm," and discussing
crops with him as gravely as if the food for the family depended on
the harvest. From this pleasant topic they went to others, and Nat
had many new and helpful thoughts put into a mind that received
them as gratefully as the thirsty earth had received the warm spring
rain. All supper time he brooded over them, often fixing his eyes
on Mr. Bhaer with an inquiring look, that seemed to say, "I like
that, do it again, sir." I don’t know whether the man understood the
child’s mute language or not, but when the boys were all gathered
together in Mrs. Bhaer’s parlor for the Sunday evening talk, he
chose a subject which might have been suggested by the walk in
the garden.

As he looked about him Nat thought it seemed more like a great
family than a school, for the lads were sitting in a wide half-circle
round the fire, some on chairs, some on the rug, Daisy and Demi
on the knees of Uncle Fritz, and Rob snugly stowed away in the
back of his mother’s easy-chair, where he could nod unseen if the
talk got beyond his depth.

Every one looked quite comfortable, and listened attentively, for
the long walk made rest agreeable, and as every boy there knew
that he would be called upon for his views, he kept his wits awake
to be ready with an answer.

"Once upon a time," began Mr. Bhaer, in the dear old-fashioned
way, "there was a great and wise gardener who had the largest
garden ever seen. A wonderful and lovely place it was, and he
watched over it with the greatest skill and care, and raised all
manner of excellent and useful things. But weeds would grow even
in this fine garden; often the ground was bad and the good seeds
sown in it would not spring up. He had many under gardeners to
help him. Some did their duty and earned the rich wages he gave
them; but others neglected their parts and let them run to waste,
which displeased him very much. But he was very patient, and for
thousands and thousands of years he worked and waited for his
great harvest."

"He must have been pretty old," said Demi, who was looking
straight into Uncle Fritz’s face, as if to catch every word.

"Hush, Demi, it’s a fairy story," whispered Daisy.

"No, I think it’s an arrygory," said Demi.

"What is a arrygory?" called out Tommy, who was of an inquiring
turn.

"Tell him, Demi, if you can, and don’t use words unless you are
quite sure you know what they mean," said Mr. Bhaer.

"I do know, Grandpa told me! A fable is a arrygory; it’s a story that
means something. My ‘Story without an end’ is one, because the
child in it means a soul; don’t it, Aunty?" cried Demi, eager to
prove himself right.

"That’s it, dear; and Uncle’s story is an allegory, I am quite sure; so
listen and see what it means," returned Mrs. Jo, who always took
part in whatever was going on, and enjoyed it as much as any boy
among them.

Demi composed himself, and Mr. Bhaer went on in his best
English, for he had improved much in the last five years, and said
the boys did it.

"This great gardener gave a dozen or so of little plots to one of his
servants, and told him to do his best and see what he could raise.
Now this servant was not rich, nor wise, nor very good, but he
wanted to help because the gardener had been very kind to him in
many ways. So he gladly took the little plots and fell to work. They
were all sorts of shapes and sizes, and some were very good soil,
some rather stony, and all of them needed much care, for in the
rich soil the weeds grew fast, and in the poor soil there were many
stones."

"What was growing in them besides the weeds, and stones?" asked
Nat; so interested, he forgot his shyness and spoke before them all.

"Flowers," said Mr. Bhaer, with a kind look. "Even the roughest,
most neglected little bed had a bit of heart’s-ease or a sprig of
mignonette in it. One had roses, sweet peas, and daisies in it," here
he pinched the plump cheek of the little girl leaning on his arm.
"Another had all sorts of curious plants in it, bright pebbles, a vine
that went climbing up like Jack’s beanstalk, and many good seeds
just beginning to sprout; for, you see, this bed had been taken fine
care of by a wise old man, who had worked in gardens of this sort
all his life."

At this part of the "arrygory," Demi put his head on one side like
an inquisitive bird, and fixed his bright eye on his uncle’s face, as
if he suspected something and was on the watch. But Mr. Bhaer
looked perfectly innocent, and went on glancing from one young
face to another, with a grave, wistful look, that said much to his
wife, who knew how earnestly he desired to do his duty in these
little garden plots.

"As I tell you, some of these beds were easy to cultivate, that
means to take care of Daisy, and others were very hard. There was
one particularly sunshiny little bed that might have been full of
fruits and vegetables as well as flowers, only it wouldn’t take any
pains, and when the man sowed, well, we’ll say melons in this bed,
they came to nothing, because the little bed neglected them. The
man was sorry, and kept on trying, though every time the crop
failed, all the bed said, was, ‘I forgot.’ "

Here a general laugh broke out, and every one looked at Tommy,
who had pricked up his ears at the word "melons," and hung down
his head at the sound of his favorite excuse.

"I knew he meant us!" cried Demi, clapping his hands. "You are
the man, and we are the little gardens; aren’t we, Uncle Fritz?"

"You have guessed it. Now each of you tell me what crop I shall
try to sow in you this spring, so that next autumn I may get a good
harvest out of my twelve, no, thirteen, plots," said Mr. Bhaer,
nodding at Nat as he corrected himself.

"You can’t sow corn and beans and peas in us. Unless you mean we
are to eat a great many and get fat," said Stuffy, with a sudden
brightening of his round, dull face as the pleasing idea occurred to
him.

"He don’t mean that kind of seeds. He means things to make us
good; and the weeds are faults," cried Demi, who usually took the
lead in these talks, because he was used to this sort of thing, and
liked it very much.

"Yes, each of you think what you need most, and tell me, and I will
help you to grow it; only you must do your best, or you will turn
out like Tommy’s melons, all leaves and no fruit. I will begin with
the oldest, and ask the mother what she will have in her plot, for
we are all parts of the beautiful garden, and may have rich harvests
for our Master if we love Him enough," said Father Bhaer.

"I shall devote the whole of my plot to the largest crop of patience
I can get, for that is what I need most," said Mrs. Jo, so soberly that
the lads fell to thinking in good earnest what they should say when
their turns came, and some among them felt a twinge of remorse,
that they had helped to use up Mother Bhaer’s stock of patience so
fast.

Franz wanted perseverance, Tommy steadiness, Ned went in for
good temper, Daisy for industry, Demi for "as much wiseness as
Grandpa," and Nat timidly said he wanted so many things he
would let Mr. Bhaer choose for him. The others chose much the
same things, and patience, good temper, and generosity seemed the
favorite crops. One boy wished to like to get up early, but did not
know what name to give that sort of seed; and poor Stuffy sighed
out,

"I wish I loved my lessons as much as I do my dinner, but I can’t."

"We will plant self-denial, and hoe it and water it, and make it
grow so well that next Christmas no one will get ill by eating too
much dinner. If you exercise your mind, George, it will get hungry
just as your body does, and you will love books almost as much as
my philosopher here," said Mr. Bhaer; adding, as he stroked the
hair off Demi’s fine forehead, "You are greedy also, my son, and
you like to stuff your little mind full of fairy tales and fancies, as
well as George likes to fill his little stomach with cake and candy.
Both are bad, and I want you to try something better. Arithmetic is
not half so pleasant as ‘Arabian Nights,’ I know, but it is a very
useful thing, and now is the time to learn it, else you will be
ashamed and sorry by and by."

"But, ‘Harry and Lucy,’ and ‘Frank,’ are not fairy books, and they
are all full of barometers, and bricks, and shoeing horses, and
useful things, and I’m fond of them; ain’t I, Daisy?" said Demi,
anxious to defend himself.

"So they are; but I find you reading ‘Roland and Maybird,’ a great
deal oftener than ‘Harry and Lucy,’ and I think you are not half so
fond of ‘Frank’ as you are of ‘Sinbad.’ Come, I shall make a little
bargain with you both, George shall eat but three times a day, and
you shall read but one story-book a week, and I will give you the
new cricket-ground; only, you must promise to play in it," said
Uncle Fritz, in his persuasive way, for Stuffy hated to run about,
and Demi was always reading in play hours.

"But we don’t like cricket," said Demi.

"Perhaps not now, but you will when you know it. Besides, you do
like to be generous, and the other boys want to play, and you can
give them the new ground if you choose."

This was taken them both on the right side, and they agreed to the
bargain, to the great satisfaction of the rest.

There was a little more talk about the gardens, and then they all
sang together. The band delighted Nat, for Mrs. Bhaer played the
piano, Franz the flute, Mr. Bhaer a bass viol, and he himself the
violin. A very simple little concert, but all seemed to enjoy it, and
old Asia, sitting in the corner, joined at times with the sweetest
voice of any, for in this family, master and servant, old and young,
black and white, shared in the Sunday song, which went up to the
Father of them all. After this they each shook hands with Father
Bhaer; Mother Bhaer kissed them every one from sixteen-year-old
Franz to little Rob, how kept the tip of her nose for his own
particular kisses, and then they trooped up to bed.

The light of the shaded lamp that burned in the nursery shone
softly on a picture hanging at the foot of Nat’s bed. There were
several others on the walls, but the boy thought there must be
something peculiar about this one, for it had a graceful frame of
moss and cones about it, and on a little bracket underneath stood a
vase of wild flowers freshly gathered from the spring woods. It
was the most beautiful picture of them all, and Nat lay looking at
it, dimly feeling what it meant, and wishing he knew all about it.

"That’s my picture," said a little voice in the room. Nat popped up
his head, and there was Demi in his night-gown pausing on his
way back from Aunt Jo’s chamber, whither he had gone to get a cot
for a cut finger.

"What is he doing to the children?" asked Nat.

"That is Christ, the Good Man, and He is blessing the children.
Don’t you know about Him?" said Demi, wondering.

"Not much, but I’d like to, He looks so kind," answered Nat, whose
chief knowledge of the Good Man consisted in hearing His name
taken in vain.

"I know all about it, and I like it very much, because it is true,"
said Demi.

"Who told you?"

"My Grandpa, he knows every thing, and tells the best stories in
the world. I used to play with his big books, and make bridges, and
railroads, and houses, when I was a little boy," began Demi.

"How old are you now?" asked Nat, respectfully.

"’Most ten."

"You know a lot of things, don’t you?"

"Yes; you see my head is pretty big, and Grandpa says it will take a
good deal to fill it, so I keep putting pieces of wisdom into it as
fast as I can," returned Demi, in his quaint way.

Nat laughed, and then said soberly,

"Tell on, please."

And Demi gladly told on without pause or punctuation. "I found a
very pretty book one day and wanted to play with it, but Grandpa
said I mustn’t, and showed me the pictures, and told me about
them, and I liked the stories very much, all about Joseph and his
bad brothers, and the frogs that came up out of the sea, and dear
little Moses in the water, and ever so many more lovely ones, but I
liked about the Good Man best of all, and Grandpa told it to me so
many times that I learned it by heart, and he gave me this picture
so I shouldn’t forget, and it was put up here once when I was sick,
and I left it for other sick boys to see."’

"What makes Him bless the children?" asked Nat, who found
something very attractive in the chief figure of the group.

"Because He loved them."

"Were they poor children?" asked Nat, wistfully.

"Yes, I think so; you see some haven’t got hardly any clothes on,
and the mothers don’t look like rich ladies. He liked poor people,
and was very good to them. He made them well, and helped them,
and told rich people they must not be cross to them, and they loved
Him dearly, dearly," cried Demi, with enthusiasm.

"Was He rich?"

"Oh no! He was born in a barn, and was so poor He hadn’t any
house to live in when He grew up, and nothing to eat sometimes,
but what people gave Him, and He went round preaching to
everybody, and trying to make them good, till the bad men killed
Him."

"What for?" and Nat sat up in his bed to look and listen, so
interested was he in this man who cared for the poor so much.

"I’ll tell you all about it; Aunt Jo won’t mind;" and Demi settled
himself on the opposite bed, glad to tell his favorite story to so
good a listener.

Nursey peeped in to see if Nat was asleep, but when she saw what
was going on, she slipped away again, and went to Mrs. Bhaer,
saying with her kind face full of motherly emotion,

"Will the dear lady come and see a pretty sight? It’s Nat listening
with all his heart to Demi telling the story of the Christ-child, like
a little white angel as he is."

Mrs. Bhaer had meant to go and talk with Nat a moment before he
slept, for she had found that a serious word spoken at this time
often did much good. But when she stole to the nursery door, and
saw Nat eagerly drinking in the words of his little friends, while
Demi told the sweet and solemn story as it had been taught him,
speaking softly as he sat with his beautiful eyes fixed on the tender
face above them, her own filled with tears, and she went silently
away, thinking to herself,

"Demi is unconsciously helping the poor boy better than I can; I
will not spoil it by a single word."

The murmur of the childish voice went on for a long time, as one
innocent heart preached that great sermon to another, and no one
hushed it. When it ceased at last, and Mrs. Bhaer went to take
away the lamp, Demi was gone and Nat fast asleep, lying with his
face toward the picture, as if he had already learned to love the
Good Man who loved little children, and was a faithful friend to
the poor. The boy’s face was very placid, and as she looked at it
she felt that if a single day of care and kindness had done so much,
a year of patient cultivation would surely bring a grateful harvest
from this neglected garden, which was already sown with the best
of all seed by the little missionary in the night-gown.

 

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