Bessie in the City. Mathews Joanna Hooe
or listen to them if they had anything to tell her.
"Mamma," said Maggie, "have you thought of any way that I can earn money?"
"You must tell me what it is wanted for, Maggie."
"We want to buy a library, mamma."
"What library, dear?"
"A mission library, mamma. You know my Sunday-school teacher, Miss Winslow, is going to marry a missionary; but he is not a heathen missionary."
"I hope not," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling. "You mean, I suppose, that he is not going to India to teach the heathen, but is what is called a home missionary."
"Yes, ma'am, that is it. Mrs. Rush says that he is going far out West, where the people have very few churches or Sunday-schools and scarcely any books, and they are very ignorant, and don't know much about God or how Jesus came to die for them, and I am afraid Miss Winslow wont be very comfortable out there, mamma, 'cause they don't have nice houses like ours, but just rough ones made of logs, which they call log cabins. You know Miss Winslow is a lady, and I am afraid she wont like to live in a place like that."
"Miss Winslow has thought of all that, my darling; but she is willing to put up with these hardships for the sake of carrying the glad message of salvation to those poor people."
"Yes, mamma, and Mrs. Rush says that most of them are very glad to hear it, and so glad to have the books the missionaries bring, and Mr. Long, the gentleman Miss Winslow is to marry, is going to try and have some Sunday-schools for the children who live in log cabins; and the other day, when Mrs. Rush was talking to us about having the little class in her room on Sunday, she asked us if we would not like to buy a Sunday-school library to send to those poor little children, when Miss Winslow and her missionary go out there. You can buy a nice little library for ten dollars, mamma; just think, ten dollars!"
"Yes, I know, Maggie; but ten dollars is a great deal of money for two such little girls as you and Bessie to raise in less than four months. Miss Winslow is to leave soon after the first of January, and this is now the tenth of September."
"But Bessie and I are not to do it by ourselves, mamma. Gracie Howard and Lily Norris are to help; it is to come from the class, and Mrs. Rush says if we cannot do it alone, she will help us; but she thinks the little log-cabin children will like it better if they hear it was all sent by other little children here, and we would like it better ourselves."
"And Gracie and Lily are going to try and earn money too?" asked Mrs. Bradford.
"They have their share, mamma. Gracie's grandmamma, who lives in England, always sends her some money on her birthday, – a – a – I forget what she calls it, but she says it is as much as five dollars."
"A pound?" said Mrs. Bradford.
"Yes'm, that is it. Gracie says she will give half of the money her grandmamma sent the other day, and Lily has a hundred dollars in her father's bank, and he pays her money 'cause she has it there."
"That is called paying interest," said Mrs. Bradford.
"And she has some of that saved up," said Maggie, "and she will have more before Christmas; so her share will be ready too; but Bessie and I have no money except our six cents a week, and that, you know, we promised to spend another way. And we don't want to be helped, mamma, but to try and earn the money by ourselves, if we only knew how. Do you not think it is a very nice plan, and that the log-cabin children will be very glad when they see the books?"
"I think it a very good plan, dear, and I will try to help you. You know, Maggie, we were saying this morning that you were still not quite as careful as you might be. Now I do not much like to pay you for trying to break yourself of a bad habit, but as this is for a good purpose, I will tell you what I will do. Every month between now and January, I will put by a dollar for your gloves and boot-laces. This is much more than enough to keep you well supplied, if you take proper care of them, but if you keep on losing your gloves, breaking your boot-laces, and so forth, as you do now, you will have none left for any other purpose. And remember, I cannot let you do without such little things as you may need, for the sake of the library. I cannot have you going without gloves, or with such as are torn or out at the fingers, or with broken or knotted shoe-strings. I must still keep you neat, and shall buy for you whatever I may think necessary. But if you care enough, as I hope you do, for the little Western children to be thoughtful and saving, you may still keep as much of this money as will go a good way toward your share of the ten dollars."
"And am I to have money put by for me, too, mamma?" asked Bessie.
"Yes, dear, if you wish it, I will do the same for you."
Maggie did not look as pleased as her mother had thought she would.
"What is it, Maggie?" she asked. "Does not this please you? Are you not willing to try both to help those little children, and to cure your own fault at the same time?"
"Oh, yes'm, I am willing, and I think you are very kind. But Bessie will keep a great deal more money than I shall. You know you said the other day that I had three pairs of gloves where Bessie had one."
"Never mind, Maggie," said Bessie, "I think I'll lose a few gloves."
"No, no," said Mrs. Bradford, laughing and shaking her head, – "no, no, that will not do. I cannot have one little sister trying to destroy or lose her things in order that she may be no better off than the other. And I am quite sure my Maggie would not be envious if Bessie saved more than she did."
"But I may say I will not give more money than Maggie does for the library; may I not, mamma? You know it is more hers than mine, 'cause she was Miss Winslow's scholar."
"You may do just as you please about that, dear. Each one may give as much or as little as she likes, if it is fairly earned or saved. And I can put Maggie in the way of earning money by work if she wishes for it."
"How, mamma?" asked Maggie, eagerly.
"I have several dozens of towels to be hemmed, and I intended that Jane should do them all; but I will keep out one dozen for you, and will pay you five cents apiece. And they must be done, not at your regular sewing lesson, but at other times."
Now if there was one thing more than another which Maggie disliked, it was sewing. She always called the half-hour during which her mother taught her to sew "the worst time of the day." It was strange, too, for she had quick and skilful fingers, and sewed remarkably well for a little girl of seven, and people generally like to do that which they do well. But it was not so with Maggie, and her face grew very sober when her mother said she might hem her towels.
"But, mamma," she said.
"Well, dear?"
"Mamma, you know I cannot bear to sew. I do so hate it! And a dozen towels, – that means twelve, don't it? – why, I should never, never have them done."
"It shall be just as you choose, dear. I do not say you must do them, only that you may. But, Maggie, we can seldom do much good to others without taking some trouble or using some self-denial ourselves."
"I do not know what self-denial is, mamma."
"Self-denial is to give up something we would like to have, or perhaps to do something that is disagreeable or troublesome to ourselves, for the sake of another. This morning I gave you two plums, – one for yourself, one for Bessie. One was much larger than the other, and I saw that you gave it to Bessie, keeping the smaller one for yourself. That was self-denial."
"But, mamma," said Maggie, "that was not anything much. I could not do such a greedy thing as to give my own Bessie the little plum and eat the big one myself. I would be too ashamed."
"I am glad to say that neither of my little girls is greedy or selfish," said mamma. "Do you remember the day at Quam Beach when your head was hurt, and Tom Norris came up to read a new book to you?"
"Oh, yes'm, it was so kind of him; and he read 'most all the afternoon."
"When he was on his way to our house, Mr. Howard met him and asked him to go with him to see the wreck, but although Tom had been wishing very much to go, he refused because he thought you would like him to come and read to you. That was self-denial.