"oh dear! what shall i do?" cried george, fretfully, one rainy afternoon. "mamma, do tell me what to do."
"and i'm so tired!" echoed helen, who was lazily playing with a kitten in her lap. "i don't see why it should rain on a friday afternoon, when we have no lessons to learn. we can't go out, and no one can come to see us. it's too bad, there!"
"helen, do you know better than god?" asked her mother, speaking[8] very gravely. "you forget that he sends the rain."
"i suppose i was thoughtless, mamma," answered the child; "i did not mean to be wicked, but, dear me, the time passes so slowly, with nothing to do."
"have you and george read all your books?"
"oh yes! two or three times over," they both answered; "and oh, mamma," continued helen, "if the one who wrote 'two little heaps,' or the 'rollo' book writer, or the author of 'the little white angel,' would only write some more books, i, for one, would not care how hard it rained. if i was grown up and rich, i wouldn't mind giving a dollar a letter for those stories."[9]
"nor i," shouted george in an animated tone, quite different from the discontented whine he had favored his mother with a few moments before; "the best thing is to have them read aloud to you; that makes you understand all about it so much better. i say, mamma, couldn't you write a letter to one of those delightful people and beg them to hurry up with more stories, especially some about bad children;—not exactly wicked, you know, but full of mischief. then i am sure that they are all true. only wait till i'm a man! i'll just write the history of some jolly fellows i know who are always getting into scrapes, but haven't a scrap of meanness about them. that's the kind of[10] book i like! i'll write dozens of them, and give them to all the sunday school libraries."
his mother smiled at this speech, and then said quietly, "i know a gentleman who likes the story of 'the little white angel,' as much as you do, and he has written a letter to request the author to write six books for him."
"six! hurrah!" shouted george, "how glad i am!" and he skipped up to helen, caught her by the hands, and the two danced round the room, upsetting a chair, till helen, catching her foot in the skirt of her mother's dress, they both tumbled down on the carpet together.
"if you cut up such violent capers,"[11] said the kind mother, laughing, "at the first part of my information, it may be dangerous to tell you what the author replied."
"oh no, do tell us!" cried the children. "we'll be as still as our shadows;" and while they made violent efforts to look grave and stand quiet, their mother told them that the author had consented, the six books were to be written, and she would buy them the very first day they were published. "perhaps," she continued, "mind, only perhaps, i may get them for you before they are ever printed."
"why, how, mamma?" they both asked.
"well, suppose you make some very good resolutions—let me see,"[12] and she took a pencil out of her pocket, and drawing a sheet of paper toward her, began to write:
"1st. to endeavor to say your prayers morning and evening without a wandering thought.
"2d. to try to keep faithfully 'the golden rule.'
"3d. to obey your parents immediately, without asking 'why?'
"4th. (a little rule, but very important.) to keep your teeth, nails, and hair scrupulously clean and neat.
"5th. to bear disappointments cheerfully.
"there, i think that will do. they are all hard rules except the fourth. i do not keep them well myself, my dear children. no one can,[13] without constant watchfulness and prayer for help from above; but you can try, will you?"
"i will, mamma," said helen, in a low, earnest tone, her blue eyes filling with tears.
"and you, george, will you?"
"yes, mamma, i will try. i can't be a very good boy, as you know. i get so tired of being good sometimes, that i feel like jumping over the house to get the badness out of me, instead of sitting down quietly and thinking about my duty, as papa says i must. when papa locked me up in his dressing room last summer, and i kicked the door as hard as ever i could, which made him call out that i should stay there two hours longer, i was[14] mad enough, i tell you! but i did not cut my name with a knife on his rosewood bureau because i was angry. it was because i was almost crazy with doing nothing but think what a bad boy i was. that made me worse, you see. the best way to punish me is to see you crying about my conduct. i can't stand that," and the boy put his arms round his mother's neck, and kissed her fondly.
"my dear boy," said his mother, returning the caress, "there is one whom you grieve more than me. i wish you would think oftener of that. i know that different children require different sorts of punishment, and as neither your father nor i approve of beating you like a dog, and you say[15] that shutting you up with nothing to do only makes you worse, i shall advise him the next time you are naughty, to send immediately for a load of wood, and make you saw it all up into small pieces, or take you where some house is building and order you to run up and down a long ladder all day with a hod of bricks on your shoulder, or hire you out to blow the big bellows for a blacksmith. how do you think you would like that?"
"i had a great deal rather run after the fire engines, to put the fire out. that's the kind of work i would like. every body screaming, and pumping, and playing streams of water—twenty firemen rushing up ladders, pulling old women and cats out[16] of the windows, and somebody inside pitching out the looking glasses and crockery to save them! i wish our house was on fire this very minute, so i could pull you and helen out, and save all the furniture. that would be the greatest fun in the world!"
"please don't set fire to the house," cried his mother, laughing, "for the fun of saving our lives. i prefer to keep it just as it is, and walking quietly out at the door." as she spoke, the sun suddenly burst forth from the clouds, and his bright rays darting into the room, the children sprang joyfully up, and, with their mother's consent, were soon out of the house with jumping-rope and[17] hoop, to join their little companions in a neighboring park.
george and helen were two charming, ingenuous children. george was full of frolic, mischief, and fun, with generous impulses and excellent intentions, which only required peculiar and careful training and encouragement to develop him into a steady, high-principled man. locking him up with nothing to do, as he truly said, did him more harm than good; he required active punishment, and his mother wisely intended to take the hint for his future benefit. her little helen, though just as full of play and fun, was more easily managed. a present of a book so won upon her love and gratitude, that her mother[18] had only to hold out the prospect of a new one, and a loving kiss (helen prized the kiss even more than the book) as a reward for good behavior, to make her quite a pattern of a dear, amiable little girl.
the next morning the kind mother called upon her friend aunt fanny, bringing george and helen with her, as it was saturday. first she told all the conversation of the afternoon before, which amused aunt fanny very much, and then she continued, "you told me the other day that your daughter was very busy writing six books for mr. leavitt the publisher. i know you love my children."
"yes, indeed!" cried aunt fanny. "i love children from my heart,[19] straight out to the ends of my fingers; and when a pen is in my hands, the love runs into it, and then out again, as fast as it can scratch all over ever so many sheets of paper. my thumb aches so sometimes with writing, that i often wish i had half a dozen extra ones, so i could take the tired one off and screw another on, and even then i am afraid i could never exhaust my love for my darlings;" and she looked at the children and held out her hand with such an affectionate smile, that helen came timidly up and gave her a little winning kiss immediately, while george, blushing all over his face, showed two great dimples in his cheeks, but had not the courage to leave his chair.[20]
you may be sure that aunt fanny, after helen's kiss, was quite ready to grant any favor the mother might ask for her children. she was perfectly willing to catch a comet for them to play with, or jump down a volcano to find out who lived in the bottom of it, if anybody would only show her how. helen's mother knew this, but she hesitated a little before she made this strange request:
"my dear friend, my two children have made me the promises i have told you of, in regard to keeping my little rules and resolutions, and now i think it will be the most wonderful and delightful reward possible, if they were to be permitted to see and read your daughter's stories in manuscript."[21]
"manuscript! what does that mean, mamma?"
"in her own handwriting, dear."
"oh yes! yes! how very strange and delightful! and then to see the very same stories printed! that would be so astonishing! we should like that better than anything, aunt fanny!"
"very well," continued their mamma; "now i have come to beg you to lend me the stories as fast as they are written. i will take the greatest care of them, and return them to your daughter quickly and punctually. i have a plan in my head which will make my children very happy, if you consent."
"to be sure i will," said aunt fanny, "but what is your plan?"[22]
thereupon commenced a great whispering between the two ladies, while the children looked pleased, puzzled, and eagerly curious all at once; but they were not to know. aunt fanny and their mother, after a great deal of nodding of heads together, and laughing and whispering, got this mysterious affair settled to their satisfaction, and then took leave of each other. aunt fanny kissed helen, and george, too, in spite of his blushes, and told them to bottle up their patience so that it would last for one whole week, observing that she was thankful that curiosity was not made of gunpowder, and there was no danger of their blowing up before the great secret came out.[23]
it is very seldom that you hear of such remarkably good children as george and helen were for the next few days. they were really something astonishing! george did not slam the door more than once or twice in a whole day; and one morning when he was going to ride on the bannisters as usual, he said "oh, i forgot!" and immediately walked down stairs as slowly and gravely as a grandfather.
as for helen, she was, if possible, still more wonderful, for she learned "six times" in the multiplication table, and said it straight on, and skipping, and even backward, in a way that surprised her teacher. helen could say "twice one" up to "five[24] times twelve," very glibly, but "six times" never would stay in her head, she said; especially "six times nine." she always said it was "seventy-two," or "sixty-three," or "eighty-one," at a desperate venture, and was always wrong. now she knew, and meant to remember; and would pack away the fact that "six times nine are fifty-four," in a comfortable place in the very middle of her head, to be ready for any one that wanted to know it.
at last the next friday came, and just before the children retired for the night, their mother said:
"something came for you to-day. guess what it is?"
up they both sprang, exclaiming,[25] "something for us? oh, that is so very delightful! what can it be?"
"my instructions are, to put it either in george's sock or in helen's stocking, after you are fast asleep. it is for both of you, and i leave you to decide where it shall be put."
"in my sock!" shouted george.
"in my stocking!" cried helen.
"oh certainly, i forgot!" exclaimed george, generously; "in helen's stocking."
"no, mamma," said helen, "in george's sock."
"stocking!" cried george.
"sock!" cried helen.
they kept this up about a dozen times, laughing and jumping about the room like two crazy monkeys,[26] their mamma and papa laughing too, till all their faces were in a perfect glow, which made them look like a very handsome family—for, let me tell you, that good humor and innocent merriment are very becoming to everybody, while ill-temper makes one look like a fright.
but how was this difficult matter of sock and stocking to be settled? why, by the children's papa, to be sure! for he was a lawyer, and did nothing all day long but settle difficulties, or make them worse, i don't know which.
he took two long slips of paper, and wrote "socks" on one and "stockings" on the other. these he put in his hat, which george brought[27] out of the hall. then he rang the bell, and told the waiter who answered it to request mrs. custard, the cook, to come up to the parlor for a moment.
mrs. custard, who was very fat, and, besides, had the rheumatism, came into the room quite breathless, looking very much surprised and a little frightened. she had dropped her thimble that day, when she was sewing up the stuffing in the turkey, and had not had time to look for it; and she was panic struck lest her master had found it roasted in the very middle of the turkey, and was going to ask her if she thought she was cooking for an ostrich, which, as everybody knows, prefers a dinner of iron[28] spikes, pebble stones, and oyster shells to roast beef.
but nothing of the kind happened. the children's papa only said, "good evening, mrs. custard, you gave us a very nice dinner to-day. i want you to put your hand in this hat and draw out one piece of paper."
"laws me, sir!" exclaimed the cook, "i hopes you don't mean to play no trick on me; will it bite?"
the children fairly screamed with laughter at the idea of a piece of paper biting; and the cook made them laugh still harder, when she put her hand in very cautiously, and twitched it out three times, before she ventured to feel for the paper.
at last one piece was caught, and[29] on it was written "socks," which made george first jump up and down in an ecstacy of delight, and then run to helen and tell her he was really sorry that it had not been the other.
this decided the momentous question, and mrs. custard hobbled down stairs, and the children hopped, skipped, and jumped up stairs, both wondering what would come of this magical word "socks."
helen had a pretty little room opening out of her mother's, but george's was in an upper story. when they were both asleep, the mother took out of her son's bureau a clean white sock, sewed a tape loop on the edge, put a small parcel inside, and hung it on a neat brass nail, which[30] was driven in a door directly opposite his bed, where it would catch his eye as soon as he awoke.
you may be sure both the children were up bright and early the next morning. helen dressed herself quickly and ran down stairs into the dining-room to wait for her brother.
george opened his eyes upon the sock the very first thing. he sprang out of bed and made but two steps to the door, raised his hand eagerly, and then the generous little fellow stopped.
"no!" he cried aloud, "i will not even squeeze the outside to guess what it is, till i am with helen."
george and helen reading "socks" george and helen reading "socks"
he did not stop to count his toes or fingers, though he did manage to clean his teeth, wash his face, neck,[31] and hands, and brush his hair in about five minutes, then taking hold of the precious sock by the loop at the top, he carried it down stairs very much as if he had hold of a mouse by the tail. he was met by helen at the door with an "oh, george, what is it?"
they both stared with all their eyes, while george told helen she might take the wonderful thing out. she gladly obeyed, and drew out a compact roll of letter paper neatly tied with sky-blue ribbon. helen untied the little bow, her fingers trembling with eagerness, and unrolled the paper. it seemed to be a great many pages covered with writing, and they were all fastened together at the top with another bit of blue ribbon. the[32] fair and clear handwriting was delightful to look at.
"oh, mamma! oh papa! do come and look!" cried george. "i do believe this is a story before it is printed. see! on the top of the page is written 'colonel freddy; or, the march and encampment of the dashahed zouaves.'"
"yes; aunt fanny sent it to me yesterday; and her daughter hopes her little story about soldiers will please you."
"please us! i guess it will! i'd rather hear about soldiers than anybody else in the world, even giants! because, you know, mamma, uncle charley has gone to fight, and if the southerners had only put off the war a few years longer, i would have gone[33] to fight them too; so hurrah for the dashahed zouaves!"
"three cheers for the dashahed zouaves!" cried helen, and they were given with a will.
the children could hardly eat their breakfast in their eagerness to hear the story which was sent to them before it was printed. this latter fact gave it an extraordinary interest which they could not explain. it seemed to be such a remarkable honor to be singled out in this way; particularly as their mother told them, before she began to read, that aunt fanny had requested them to be sure to let her know if they thought any part stupid or too long, and her daughter would improve and shorten it immediately.[34]
how extremely complimentary! to be asked to sit and listen as critics and judges, and they only children! really, it was almost too much to believe!
but it added tremendously to the charm, and george and helen took their seats after breakfast, invested with this new and important dignity, with such an expression of solemn delight on their faces, that their mother had to run out of the room and have a good laugh by herself in the hall, after which she returned, and, with as serious a face as she could call up with those two little figures so stiff and stark before her, smoothed out the manuscript, and began as follows:
