Mary: A Nursery Story for Very Little Children. Molesworth Mrs.
children looked very grave, though their thinking did not prevent their enjoying their nice breakfast.
“Now, Master Leigh,” said nurse, “you guess first.”
“A pony,” said Leigh. “A new pony instead of Dapple Grey who’s getting too old to trot.” Nurse shook her head.
“No, it’s not a new pony. Besides, I don’t think Miss Mary would care as much for a new pony as you boys would.”
“No,” Mary agreed. “I don’t want no pony but Dapple Grey. Nother ponies trot too fast.” Leigh thought again. This time he tried to make his guess some quite “girl” thing.
“A doll – a big doll for Mary,” he said.
Nurse smiled. No, it was not that – at least – “A wax doll, do you mean, Master Leigh?”
“Yes, a wax doll. But I don’t think it could be a doll, for that could have been got already for a birthday present, and this is quite an extra present, isn’t it?” said Leigh.
“Yes, quite extra,” said nurse. “But now it’s Master Artie’s turn.”
Artie’s ideas were very jumbled. He did not keep the inside of his head in nearly such good order as Leigh kept his. First he guessed “a fine day for Mary’s birthday,” as if any “guessing” could be needed for a thing which was already there before their eyes. Then he guessed a very big cake for tea, which was not a very clever guess, as a nice big cake on a birthday was an “of course.” So now it came to Mary’s own guesses. She looked up eagerly.
“For us all to be doo – ” Then with a great effort, for Mary was growing a big girl and wanted to speak quite rightly, “to be g-ood all day. Kite g-ood.”
“That would be very nice,” said nurse, “and I hope it will come true, but that’s more wishing than guessing, Miss Mary. It’s something that’s come, not going to come, that I want you to guess about.”
Mary’s face grew very grave. Then it smiled again.
“I know,” she said, “mamma’s headache to g-go away, now, jimmedjetly, and then we’ll go and see her.”
“I hope it will,” said nurse. “But that wasn’t the guess.”
She saw that Mary was too little quite to understand.
“See if I can’t help you,” she said. “What would you like best of anything? Don’t you think a doll that could learn to speak and love you and play with you would be a nice birthday present?”
Artie and Mary looked puzzled. They had to think about it. But Leigh was quicker.
“Why, nurse,” he said, “a doll like that would be a living– oh nurse, I do believe – ” but just as he was going to say more there came a tap at the door, and Robert, the footman, came in.
“If you please, Mrs Barley,” he began. “Barley” was nurse’s own name, and, of course, the other servants were all very respectful, and always called her “Mrs Barley.”
“Master wants the young gentlemen and Miss Mary now at once, if so be as they’ve finished their breakfast.”
“I think you should say ‘Miss Mary and the young gentlemen,’ Robert,” said Leigh.
“Specially as it’s Mary’s birthday,” said Artie.
“Oh rubbish,” said Leigh; “birthday or no birthday, it’s proper.”
“I beg the young lady’s pardon,” said Robert, who was a very well brought up footman. “I’m sure I meant no offence,” and he looked towards Mary, but just then he could not see anything of her. For while her brothers were correcting Robert, Mary had been employing herself in getting down from her chair, which took a good while, as it was high and she was very short. Nothing but a sort of fluff of blue skirts and sash and white muslin pinafore and shaggy hair, with here and there a shoe or a little pink hand sticking out, was to be seen. Robert sprang forwards, meaning to be extra polite and set Miss Mary right side uppermost again, but in some mysterious way she managed to get on her feet by herself.
“No, zank you, Robert,” she said with dignity, as she stood there with a rather red face, smoothing down her pinafore. “I can get down alone.”
“Miss Mary, my dear,” said nurse. “I’m always telling you to ask me to lift you down. The chair will topple over some day and you’ll be hurting yourself badly.”
“But, nurse, I’m four, now,” said Mary. “Four is big.”
“Of course it is,” said Leigh. “Never mind, nurse. The best plan will be for me to hold her chair while she gets down. Are you ready, Artie? Mary and I are.”
Artie had managed to “honey” his face and hands, and nurse thought Mary too would not be the worse for a slight sponging.
“Papa likes a sweet kiss, but not a honey one,” she said.
But at last they were all ready and on their way down to the dining-room, where they came upon Robert again, ready to throw open the door with great dignity, as he had hurried down the back stairs on purpose to be there before them.
Papa was just finishing his breakfast. He looked up with a bright smile.
“Well, young people,” he said. “Well, my pet,” this was to Mary. “So this is your birthday, my little queen – eh?”
He lifted her on to his knee and kissed her.
Mary loved when papa called her his little queen.
“I have to be off immediately,” he said, “but first I have to give you your birthday presents from dear mamma and me.”
“And ours, papa, Leigh’s and mine. They’re all together – mamma put them all together,” said Artie.
“All right. They are over there on the side-table. You fetch them,” said papa.
“Are you going to a meeting, father?” asked Leigh.
“Yes, my boy, to lots of meetings. I shan’t be back till late to-night.”
“What are meetings?” Mary was just going to ask, but the sight of Artie and the parcels put it out of her head. There was a beautiful doll’s perambulator from papa and mamma, and “a church book,” bound in red, and with “Mary” outside, in lovely gold letters; and from Leigh and Artie, a doll’s tea-service – cups and saucers and teapot and everything – in white china with little pink flowers, and dear little teaspoons of shining silver, or at least quite as pretty as silver. And then there was the birthday cake – covered with white sugar and with “Mary” in pink letters. There was no fear of Mary forgetting her name this birthday, was there?
How her eyes sparkled, and how quick her breath came with pleasure, and how rosy her cheeks grew!
“Oh papa,” she said, “oh Leigh, oh Artie!” and for a minute or two that was all she could say.
“Are you pleased, my pet?” said papa.
“Oh, I never, never did have such sp’endid presents,” said Mary.
“Dear little Mary,” said Artie, kissing her. “I am so glad you like them.”
Then another thought struck Mary, as she stood touching gently one of her treasures after the other, as if she did not know which she loved the most.
“Papa, dear,” she said, “can’t I see dear mamma? I would like to zank dear mamma.”
“And so you shall, my pet,” said her father. And he picked her up as he spoke and seated her on his shoulder. Mary was very fond of riding on papa’s shoulder. “Come along, boys,” he said, “you may come with me, if you won’t be noisy, to see mamma and something else – Mary’s best birthday present of all.”
“Anoder birfday present,” said Mary, so surprised that she felt quite breathless. “Anoder, papa?”
“Yes,