Chapter 8

Merry and MollyNow let us see how the other missionaries goton with their tasks.

　　Farmer Grant was a thrifty, well-to-do man, anxious to give hischildren greater advantages than he had enjoyed, and to improvethe fine place of which he was justly proud. Mrs. Grant was anotable housewife, as ambitious and industrious as her husband,but too busy to spend any time on the elegancics of life, thoughalways ready to help the poor and sick like a good neighbor andChristian woman. The three sons--Tom, Dick, and Harry--were bigfellows of seventeen, nineteen, and twenty-one; the first two on thefarm, and the elder in a store just setting up for himself.

　　Kind-hearted but rough-mannered youths, who loved Merry verymuch, but teased her sadly about her "fine lady airs," as they calledher dainty ways and love of beauty.

　　Merry was a thoughtful girl, full of innocent fancies, refined tastes,and romantic dreams, in which no one sympathized at home,though she was the pet of the family. It did seem, to an outsider, asif the delicate little creature had got there by mistake, for shelooked very like a tea-rose in a field of clover and dandelions,whose highest aim in life was to feed cows and help make rootbeer.

　　When the girls talked over the new society, it pleased Merry verymuch, and she decided not only to try and love work better, but toconvert her family to a liking for pretty things, as she called herown more cultivated tastes.

　　"I will begin at once, and show them that I don't mean to shirk myduty, though I do want to be nice," thought she, as she sat at supperone night and looked about her, planning her first move.

　　Not a very cheering prospect for a lover of the beautiful, certainly,for the big kitchen, though as neat as wax, had nothing lovely in it,except a red geranium blooming at the window. Nor were thepeople all that could be desired, in some respects, as they sat aboutthe table shovelling in pork and beans with their knives, drinkingtea from their saucers, and laughing out with a hearty "Haw, haw,"when anything amused them. Yet the boys were handsome, strongspecimens, the farmer a hale, benevolent-looking man, thehousewife a pleasant, sharp-eyed matron, who seemed to findcomfort in looking often at the bright face at her elbow, with thebroad forehead, clear eyes, sweet mouth, and quiet voice that camelike music in among the loud masculine ones, or the quick,nervous tones of a woman always in a hurry.

　　Merry's face was so thoughtful that evening that her fatherobserved it, for, when at home, he watched her as one watches akitten, glad to see anything so pretty, young, and happy, at its play.

　　"Little daughter has got something on her mind, I mistrust. Comeand tell father all about it," he said, with a sounding slap on hisbroad knee as he turned his chair from the table to the ugly stove,where three pairs of wet boots steamed underneath, and a greatkettle of cider apple-sauce simmered above.

　　"When I've helped clear up, I'll come and talk. Now, mother, yousit down and rest; Roxy and I can do everything," answered Merry,patting the old rocking-chair so invitingly that the tired womancould not resist, especially as watching the kettle gave her anexcuse for obeying.

　　"Well, I don't care if I'd o, for I've been on my feet since fiveo'clock. Be sure you cover things up, and shut the buttery door, andput the cat down cellar, and sift your meal. I'll see to thebuckwheats last thing before I go to bed."Mrs. Grant subsided with her knitting, for her hands were neveridle; Tom tilted his chair back against the wall and picked his teethwith his pen-knife; Dick got out a little pot of grease, to make theboots water-tight; and Harry sat down at the small table to lookover his accounts, with an important air--for everyone occupiedthis room, and the work was done in the out-kitchen behind.

　　Merry hated clearing up, but dutifully did every distasteful task,and kept her eye on careless Roxy till all was in order; then shegladly went to perch on her father's knee, seeing in all the facesabout her the silent welcome they always wore for the "little one.

　　"Yes, I do want something, but I know you will say it is silly," shebegan, as her father pinched her blooming cheek, with the wishthat his peaches would ever look half as well.

　　"Shouldn't wonder if it was a doll now"; and Mr. Grant stroked herhead with an indulgent smile, as if she was about six instead offifteen.

　　"Why, father, you know I don't! I haven't played with dollies foryears and years. No; I want to fix up my room pretty, like Jill's. I'lldo it all myself, and only want a few things, for I don't expect it tolook as nice as hers."Indignation gave Merry courage to state her wishes boldly, thoughshe knew the boys would laugh. They did, and her mother said in atone of surprise,"Why, child, what more can you want? I'm sure your room isalways as neat as a new pin, thanks to your bringing up, and I toldyou to have a fire there whenever you wanted to.""Let me have some old things out of the garret, and I'll show youwhat I want. It is neat, but so bare and ugly I hate to be there. I doso love something pretty to look at!" and Merry gave a little shiverof disgust as she turned her eyes away from the large greasy bootDick was holding up to be sure it was well lubricated all round.

　　"So do I, and that's a fact. I couldn't get on without my pretty girlhere, anyway. Why, she touches up the old place better than adozen flower-pots in full blow," said the farmer, as his eye wentfrom the scarlet geranium to the bright young face so near his own.

　　"I wish I had a dozen in the sitting-room window. Mother says theyare not tidy, but I'd keep them neat, and I know you'd like it,"broke in Merrry, glad of the chance to get one of the long-desiredwishes of her heart fulfilled.

　　"I'll fetch you some next time I go over to Ballad's. Tell me whatyou want, and we'll have a posy bed somewhere round, see if wedon't," said her father, dimly understanding what she wanted.

　　"Now, if mother says I may fix my room, I shall be satisfied, andI'll do my chores without a bit of fuss, to show how grateful I am,"said the girl, thanking her father with a kiss, and smiling at hermother so wistfully that the good woman could not refuse.

　　"You may have anything you like out of the blue chest. There's alot of things there that the moths got at after Grandma died, and Icouldn't bear to throw or give 'em away. Trim up your room as youlike, and mind you don't forget your part of the bargain," answeredMrs. Grant, seeing profit in the plan.

　　"I won't; I'll work all the morning to-morrow, and in the afternoonI'll get ready to show you what I call a nice, pretty room,"answered Merry, looking so pleased it seemed as if another flowerhad blossomed in the large bare kitchen.

　　She kept her word, and the very stormy afternoon when Jill gotinto trouble, Merry was working busily at her little bower. In theblue chest she found a variety of treasures, and ignoring the mothholes, used them to the best advantage, trying to imitate the simplecomfort with a touch of elegance which prevailed in Mrs. Minot'sback bedroom.

　　Three faded red-moreen curtains went up at the windows over thechilly paper shades, giving a pleasant glow to the bare walls. A redquilt with white stars, rather the worse for many washings, coveredthe bed, and a gay cloth the table, where a judicious arrangementof books and baskets concealed the spots. The little air-tight stovewas banished, and a pair of ancient andirons shone in the fire-light.

　　Grandma's last and largest braided rug lay on the hearth, and herbrass candlesticks adorned the bureau, over the mirror of whichwas festooned a white muslin skirt, tied up with Merry's red sash.

　　This piece of elegance gave the last touch to her room, shethought, and she was very proud of it, setting forth all her smallstore of trinkets in a large shell, with an empty scent bottle, and aclean tidy over the pincushion. On the walls she hung threeold-fashioned pictures, which she ventured to borrow from thegarret till better could be found. One a mourning piece, with avery tall lady weeping on an urn in a grove of willows, and twosmall boys in knee breeches and funny little square tails to theircoats, looking like cherubs in large frills. The other was as good asa bonfire, being an eruption of Vesuvius, and very lurid indeed, forthe Bay of Naples was boiling like a pot, the red sky raining rocks,and a few distracted people lying flat upon the shore. The thirdwas a really pretty scene of children dancing round a May-pole, forthough nearly a hundred years old, the little maids smiled and theboys pranced as gayly as if the flowers they carried were still aliveand sweet.

　　"Now I'll call them all to see, and say that it is pretty. Then I'llenjoy it, and come here when things look dismal and bareeverywhere else," said Merry, when at last it was done. She hadworked all the afternoon, and only finished at supper time, so thecandles had to be lighted that the toilette might look its best, andimpress the beholders with an idea of true elegance. Unfortunately,the fire smoked a little, and a window was set ajar to clear theroom; an evil disposed gust blew in, wafting the thin draperywithin reach of the light, and when Merry threw open the doorproudly thinking to display her success, she was horrified to findthe room in a blaze, and half her labor all in vain.

　　The conflagration was over in a minute, however, for the boys toredown the muslin and stamped out the fire with much laughter,while Mrs. Grant bewailed the damage to her carpet, and poorMerry took refuge in her father's arms, refusing to be comforted inspite of his kind commendation of "Grandma's fixins."The third little missionary had the hardest time of all, and her firstefforts were not much more satisfactory nor successful than theothers. Her father was away from morning till night, and then hadhis paper to read, books to keep, or "a man to see down town," sothat, after a hasty word at tea, he saw no more of the children tillanother evening, as they were seldom up at his early breakfast. Hethought they were well taken care of, for Miss Bathsheba Daweswas an energetic, middle-aged spinster when she came into thefamily, and had been there fifteen years, so he did not observe,what a woman would have seen at once, that Miss Bat was gettingold and careless, and everything about the house was at sixes andsevens. She took good care of him, and thought she had done herduty if she got three comfortable meals, nursed the children whenthey were ill, and saw that the house did not burn up. So MariaLouisa and Napoleon Bonaparte got on as they could, without thetender cares of a mother. Molly had been a happy-go-lucky child,contented with her pets, her freedom, and little Boo to love; butnow she was just beginning to see that they were not like otherchildren, and to feel ashamed of it.

　　"Papa is busy, but Miss Bat ought to see to us; she is paid for it,and goodness knows she has an easy time now, for if I ask her todo anything, she groans over her bones, and tells me young folksshould wait on themselves. I take all the care of Boo off her hands,but I can't wash my own things, and he hasn't a decent trouser tohis blessed little legs. I'd tell papa, but it wouldn't do any good;he'd only say, 'Yes, child, yes, I'll attend to it,' and never do athing."This used to be Molly's lament, when some especially trying eventoccurred, and if the girls were not there to condole with her, shewould retire to the shed-chamber, call her nine cats about her, and,sitting in the old bushel basket, pull her hair about her ears, andscold all alone. The cats learned to understand this habit, andnobly did their best to dispel the gloom which now and thenobscured the sunshine of their little mistress. Some of them wouldcreep into her lap and purr till the comfortable sound soothed herirritation; the sedate elders sat at her feet blinking with such wiseand sympathetic faces, that she felt as if half a dozen Solomonswere giving her the sagest advice; while the kittens frisked about,cutting up their drollest capers till she laughed in spite of herself.

　　When the laugh came, the worst of the fit was over, and she sooncheered up, dismissing the consolers with a pat all round, a feast ofgood things from Miss Bat's larder, and the usual speech:

　　"Well, dears, it's of no use to worry. I guess we shall get alongsomehow, if we don't fret."With which wise resolution, Molly would leave her retreat andfreshen up her spirits by a row on the river or a romp with Boo,which always finished the case. Now, however, she was bound totry the new plan and do something toward reforming not only theboy's condition, but the disorder and discomfort of home.

　　"I'll play it is Siam, and this the house of a native, and I'm come toshow the folks how to live nicely. Miss Bat won't know what tomake of it, and I can't tell her, so I shall get some fun out of it,anyway," thought Molly, as she surveyed the dining-room the dayher mission began.

　　The prospect was not cheering; and, if the natives of Siam live insuch confusion, it is high time they were attended to. Thebreakfast-table still stood as it was left, with slops of coffee on thecloth; bits of bread, egg-shells, and potato-skins lay about, and onelonely sausage was cast away in the middle of a large platter. Thefurniture was dusty, stove untidy, and the carpet looked as ifcrumbs had been scattered to chickens who declined theirbreakfast. Boo was sitting on the sofa, with his arm through a holein the cover, hunting for some lost treasure put away there for safekeeping, like a little magpie as he was. Molly fancied she washedand dressed him well enough; but to-day she seemed to see moredearly, and sighed as she thought of the hard job in store for her ifshe gave him the thorough washing he needed, and combed outthat curly mop of hair.

　　"I'll clear up first and do that by and by. I ought to have a nice littletub and good towels, like Mrs. Minot, and I will, too, if I buy themmyself," she said, piling up cups with an energy that threateneddestruction to handles.

　　Miss Bat, who was trailing about the kitchen, with her head pinnedup in a little plaid shawl, was so surprised by the demand for a panof hot water and four clean towels, that she nearly dropped hersnuff-box, chief comfort of her lazy soul.

　　"What new whimsey now? Generally, the dishes stand round till Ihave time to pick 'em up, and you are off coasting or careeringsomewhere. Well, this tidy fit won't last long, so I may as wellmake the most of it," said Miss Bat, as she handed out the requiredarticles, and then pushed her spectacles from the tip of her sharpnose to her sharper black eyes for a good look at the girl who stoodprimly before her, with a clean apron on and her hair braided upinstead of flying wildly about her shoulders.

　　"Umph!" was all the comment that Miss Bat made on this unusualneatness, and she went on scraping her saucepans, while Mollyreturned to her work, very well pleased with the effect of her firststep, for she felt that the bewilderment of Miss Bat would be aconstant inspiration to fresh efforts.

　　An hour of hard work produced an agreeable change in the abodeof the native, for the table was cleared, room swept and dusted,fire brightened, and the holes in the sofa-covering were pinned uptill time could be found to mend them. To be sure, rolls of lint layin corners, smears of ashes were on the stove hearth, and dust stilllurked on chair rounds and table legs. But too much must not beexpected of a new convert, so the young missionary sat down torest, well pleased and ready for another attempt as soon as shecould decide in what direction it should be made. She quailedbefore Boo as she looked at the unconscious innocent peacefullyplaying with the spotted dog, now bereft of his tail, and the lonesausage with which he was attempting to feed the hungry animal,whose red mouth always gaped for more.

　　"It will be an awful job, and he is so happy I won't plague him yet.

　　Guess I'll go and put my room to rights first, and pick up someclean clothes to put on him, if he is alive after I get through withhim," thought Molly, foreseeing a stormy passage for the boy, whohated a bath as much as some people hate a trip across theAtlantic.

　　Up she went, and finding the fire out felt discouraged, thought shewould rest a little more, so retired under the blankets to read oneof the Christmas books. The dinner-bell rang while she was stillwandering happily in "Nelly's Silver Mine," and she ran down tofind that Boo had laid out a railroad all across her neat room, usingbits of coal for sleepers and books for rails, over which he wasdragging the yellow sled laden with a dismayed kitten, the taillessdog, and the remains of the sausage, evidently on its way to thetomb, for Boo took bites at it now and then, no other lunch beingoffered him.

　　"Oh dear! why can't boys play without making such a mess,"sighed Molly, picking up the feathers from the duster with whichBoo had been trying to make a "cocky-doo" of the hapless dog. "I'llwash him right after dinner, and that will keep him out of mischieffor a while," she thought, as the young engineer unsuspiciouslyproceeded to ornament his already crocky countenance withsquash, cranberry sauce, and gravy, till he looked more like a Fijichief in full war-paint than a Christian boy.

　　"I want two pails of hot water, please, Miss Bat, and the big tub,"said Molly, as the ancient handmaid emptied her fourth cup of tea,for she dined with the family, and enjoyed her own good cookingin its prime.

　　"What are you going to wash now?""Boo--I'm sure he needs it enough"; and Molly could not helplaughing as the victim added to his brilliant appearance bysmearing the colors all together with a rub of two grimy hands,making a fine Turner, of himself.

　　"Now, Maria Louisa Bemis, you ain't going to cut up no caperswith that child! The idea of a hot bath in the middle of the day, andhim full of dinner, and croupy into the bargain~ Wet a corner of atowel at the kettle-spout and polish him off if you like, but youwon't risk his life in no bath-tubs this cold day."Miss Bat's word was law in some things, so Molly had to submit,and took Boo away, saying, loftily, as she left the room,"I shall ask father, and do it to-night, for I will not have my brotherlook like a pig.""My patience! how the Siamese do leave their things round," sheexclaimed, as she surveyed her room after making up the fire andpolishing off Boo. "I'll put things in order, and then mend up myrags, if I can find my thimble. Now, let me see"; and she went toexploring her closet, bureau, and table, finding such disordereverywhere that her courage nearly gave out.

　　She had clothes enough, but all needed care; even her best dresshad two buttons off, and her Sunday hat but one string. Shoes,skirts, books, and toys lay about, and her drawers were a perfectchaos of soiled ruffles, odd gloves, old ribbons, boot lacings, andbits of paper.

　　"Oh, my heart, what a muddle! Mrs. Minot wouldn't think much ofme if she could see that," said Molly, recalling how that lady oncesaid she could judge a good deal of a little girl's character andhabits by a peep at her top drawer, and went on, with greatsuccess, to guess how each of the school-mates kept her drawer.

　　"Come, missionary, clear up, and don't let me find such a gloryholeagain, or I'll report you to the society," said Molly, tippingthe whole drawer-full out upon the bed, and beguiling the tiresomejob by keeping up the new play.

　　Twilight came before it was done, and a great pile of thingsloomed up on her table, with no visible means of repair--forMolly's work-basket was full of nuts, and her thimble down a holein the shed-floor, where the cats had dropped it in their play.

　　"I'll ask Bat for hooks and tape, and papa for some money to buyscissors and things, for I don't know where mine are. Glad I can'tdo any more now! Being neat is such hard work!" and Molly threwherself down on the rug beside the old wooden cradle in whichBoo was blissfully rocking, with a cargo of toys aboard.

　　She watched her time, and as soon as her father had done supper,she hastened to say, before he got to his desk,"Please, papa, I want a dollar to get some brass buttons and thingsto fix Boo's clothes with. He wore a hole in his new trouserscoasting down the Kembles' steps. And can't I wash him? He needsit, and Miss Bat won't let me have a tub.""Certainly, child, certainly; do what you like, only don't keep me. Imust be off, or I shall miss Jackson, and he's the man I want"; and,throwing down two dollars instead of one, Mr. Bemis hurriedaway, with a vague impression that Boo had swallowed a dozenbrass buttons, and Miss Bat had been coasting somewhere in abath-pan; but catching Jackson was important, so he did not stop toinvestigate.

　　Armed with the paternal permission, Molly carried her point, andoh, what a dreadful evening poor Boo spent! First, he was decoyedupstairs an hour too soon, then put in a tub by main force andsternly scrubbed, in spite of shrieks that brought Miss Bat to thelocked door to condole with the sufferer, scold the scrubber, anddepart, darkly prophesying croup before morning.

　　"He always howls when he is washed; but I shall do it, since youwon't, and he must get used to it. I will not have people tell me he'sneglected, if I can help it," cried Molly, working away with tears inher eyes--for it was as hard for her as for Boo; but she meant to bethorough for once in her life, no matter what happened.

　　When the worst was over, she coaxed him with candy and storiestill the long task of combing out the curls was safely done; then, inthe clean night-gown with a blue button newly sewed on, she laidhim in bed, worn out, but sweet as a rose.

　　"Now, say your prayers, darling, and go to sleep with the nice redblanket all tucked round so you won't get cold," said Molly, ratherdoubtful of the effect of the wet head.

　　"No, I won't! Going to sleep now!" and Boo shut his eyes wearily,feeling that his late trials had not left him in a prayerful mood.

　　"Then you'll be a real little heathen, as Mrs. Pecq called you, and Idon't know what I shall do with you," said Molly, longing tocuddle rather than scold the little fellow, whose soul neededlooking after as well as his body.

　　"No, no; I won't be a heevin! I don't want to be frowed to thetrockindiles. I will say my prayers! oh, I will!" and, rising in hisbed, Boo did so, with the devotion of an infant Samuel, for heremembered the talk when the society was formed.

　　Molly thought her labors were over for that night, and soon went tobed, tired with her first attempts. But toward morning she waswakened by the hoarse breathing of the boy, and was forced topatter away to Miss Bat's room, humbly asking for the squills, andconfessing that the prophecy had come to pass.

　　"I knew it! Bring the child to me, and don't fret. I'll see to him, andnext time you do as I say," was the consoling welcome shereceived as the old lady popped up a sleepy but anxious face in alarge flannel cap, and shook the bottle with the air of a generalwho had routed the foe before and meant to do it again.

　　Leaving her little responsibility in Miss Bat's arms, Molly tired towet her pillow with a few remorseful tears, and to fall asleep,wondering if real missionaries ever killed their pupils in theprocess of conversion.

　　So the girls all failed in the beginning; but they did not give up,and succeeded better next time, as we shall see.