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Yesterday's Stories for Today's Reader
Category:
Children
Publisher: Createspace
ISBN-10: 1477433171
Pages: 120
Copyright: Jul 24, 2012
ISBN-13: 9781477433171
Little ladies will love this old-fashioned story about not-so-perfect, adventurous Little Pansy. Authentic recipes & activities, too!
Excerpt
"I wish you could go with us, Aunt Madge," said Grace, almost pouting; "we don't have half as much fun with Aunt Louise."
"No, we don't," cried Pansy; "she wants us to 'be careful' all the time. She don't love little girls when she gets 'jittery.'"
Just then, their aunt, Louise, came into the room, looking prettier than ever, in her new, pink dress. She was a very young lady, hardly fifteen years old.
"Say, Pansy," she said, smiling, "please run up stairs and get my parasol--that's a darling." Pansy, though, was busy, picking a pebble out of her shoe, and did not move at once.
"Ah!" said Aunt Louise, pulling on her gloves, "I see Pansy isn't going to mind me."
"Well, don't you see me getting up out of my chair?" said Pansy. "There now, don't you see me go over to the door?"
"Oh, dear," fretted poor Aunt Louise to her sister, "what shall I do all this long day, with three noisy children? I'm afraid one of them will get drowned, or run over, or break her neck. You just see, something awful will happen before we get back, I just know it."
"Oh, I hope not," replied sister Madge, laughing. "I do not think there is anything that terrible about our little nieces."
"Here is your parasol, Auntie," said Pansy, coming back. "I know who I love best of anybody in this house," she teased, "and it ain't the one that's got her bonnet on--it's A-R-N-T, aunt, M-I-G, Madge."
"Well, you ought to love your 'Arnt Mig,' all of you," said Aunt Louise, laughing, "since she thinks you children are as lovely as little, white rosebuds.--Come, are you all ready? Then run along, and I'll follow."
"Oh, I'm so glad I'm alive!" cried little Pansy, hopping on one foot; "I do hope I'll never die!"
"I'll just be glad not get any dirt on my clean apron," whispered Susy to Grace. "Aunt Madge ironed it this morning."
They had such a pleasant walk through the streets of the beautiful village, in the sunshine, calm and sweet! Grace thought the trees met overhead just as if they were "holding hands and playing a game of 'King's Cruise' for them all to march through."
When they had almost reached Aunt Martha's house, Aunt Louise stopped them, saying, "Now, tell me if you are going to be good children, so I won't be ashamed of you."
"Why, yes, Auntie," said Grace, looking quite miffed and surprised.
"Oh, Auntie," said Susy, "did you think we were going to be naughty?"
"No, you'll mean to be good," answered Aunt Louise, speaking more kindly,"if you don't forget to...and you'll be a nice, dear little girl, too, won't you, Pansy?"
"I don't know," said Pansy, coolly.
"Don't know? Why, do you think I would have taken you along, if I hadn't thought you'd try to be good?"
"Well, I didn't say I wouldn't," said Pansy, with some dignity, "I said 'I don't know,' and when I say that, I mean 'yes.'"
"Well, I certainly hope you'll do your best," sighed Aunt Louise, "and not make anybody crazy."
By this time, they had gone up the nice, gravel walk, and Aunt Martha had come to the door, opening her arms as if she wanted to embrace them all at once. "Dear little souls," she said, "come right in, and let me take your things. I've been waiting for you all morning. This is my little nephew, Lonnie Adams.--Shake hands with the little girls, my dear." Lonnie was a fair-haired, timid, little boy, seven years old. The children very soon felt at ease with him.
It was so pleasant in Aunt Martha's shaded parlor, and the children took such delight in looking at the books and pictures, that they were all sorry when Aunt Louise "got jittery," and thought it was time they went off somewhere to play.
"Very well," said dear Aunt Martha, "they may go all over the house and grounds, if they like, with Lonnie."
In a very few minutes, they had gone all over the house and grounds, and at last, stopped in the maid's room over the kitchen, tired enough to sit down a while--all but Pansy, who "wasn't any kind of tired, not one bit."
"Look here, Pansy Parlin," said Grace, "don't you open that drawer."
"Who owns it?" said Pansy, putting in both hands and starting to explore.
"Why, Bridget does, of course."
"No, she doesn't," said Pansy, "God owns this drawer, and He will let me look into it as long as I want to."
"Well, I'll tell Aunt Louise, see if I don't - That's the behavior of bad, little girls who steal things."
"I ain't a stealer," cried Pansy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw you once, nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. You're a stealer!--Oh, look, here's an ink-stand!"
"Put it right back," said Susy, "and get away from there."
"Let me have it," cried Lonnie, seizing it out of Pansy's hand, "I'm going to put it up for auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, master auctioneer, riding horseback," he announced, straddling the quilt rack. "I'm ringin' a bell. 'Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Auction at two o'clock! Who'll buy my fine, fresh ink?'"
"Please, give it to me," cried Grace, "it isn't yours."
"'Fresh ink, red as a lobster!'"
"Hand it over this minute!" cried Grace.
"'As green as a pea! Who'll bid? Going! Going!'"
"Now, do give it to me, Lonnie," said Susy, climbing into a chair, and reaching after it; "you aren't behaving one bit."
"'Bid? Do you say you bid? Nine cents, ma'am? Going...going...gone for nine cents! Sold to Miss Parlin.'"
Somewhere between "going," "going," and "gone," out came the stopper, and over went the ink, all over Susy's starched, white apron. Lonnie was dreadfully frightened. "Don't tell that I did it!" he cried. "You know I didn't mean any harm. Won't you promise not to tell?"
"Yes, I will," said Susy; but she should not have promised any such thing. "Oh, dear....Oh, dear! What will I do?" Little, black streams were trickling down the apron, onto the dress. Grace pulled Susy to the washing-stand. Pansy thought she meant to lift her into it, and tried to help, propelling Susy into the pitcher. Water sloshed over its top, onto the stained linen, spreading the ink into a large, ugly splotch.
"I guess this honey soap will take it out," said Susy; but with all their washing and rinsing, they could not make black into white, anymore than they could have made night into day.
"Wait a minute!" cried Grace. "Soap makes it worse--Ma puts on milk."
"Oh, dear! I wish we had some," said Susy; "how can we get it?"
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Grace, "we'll send Pansy downstairs to Bridget, to ask for some milk to drink."
"I like milk and water the best," said Pansy, "with sugar in."
"Well, then get that," said Grace, "it's just as good; and come right back with it, and don't tell about the ink."
Aunt Martha and Bridget were bringing up the dinner, when Pansy went down into the kitchen, calling out, "Oh, Bridget, may I have some white tea?"
"White tay!" said Bridget, in her charming Irish lilt; "and what may that be, now?"
"Oh, some white tea, in a cup, you know, with sugar. They let me have it every once in a while."
"Milk and water, I suppose," said Aunt Martha. "Can't you wait till dinner, my dear?"
"But the girls can't wait," replied Pansy; "they want it now."
"Oh, it's for the girls, is it?"
"Yes, but once they've washed the apron, I can drink the rest--with white sugar in."
"The apron!" said Aunt Martha, "what apron?"
"Oh, just Susy's. I told Grandma I'd be good, and I was - It wasn't me who spilled the ink!"
"Ink spilled?" cried Aunt Martha, as she stopped beating butter into the turnips.
"Oh, I wasn't supposed to tell!" cried Pansy, beginning to tremble; "I didn't, did I? They said not to tell."
Aunt Louise, passing through the kitchen, caught some of the last words, and rushed up the stairs, two at a time. "Oh, Susy Parlin, you naughty, naughty child, what have you been into? Who spilled that ink?"
"It got tipped over," answered Susy, in a fright, but not forgetting her promise.
"Of course, it got tipped over--but not without hands, you careless girl! Go on and get your shawl, and march home as quick as you can! I must go with you, I suppose."
Lonnie should have come forward now, like a little gentleman, and told the whole story; but he had run away.
"Oh, Auntie," said Grace, "she wasn't to blame. It---"
"Don't say a word," said Aunt Louise, briskly. "If she was my little girl, I'd have her sent to bed. That dress and apron need to be soaking this very minute."
Bridget listened at the foot of the stairs in a very angry mood, muttering, "And a fine mither little Miss Louise will be. A mither can forgive it when her bairns does such things, knowin' they'll get more sense as they get bigger."
Poor little Susy had to go home under the noonday sun, hanging her head and crying all the way. Some of the tears were for her ruined clothes, some for her auntie's sharp words, and some for the nice dinner she had missed.
"Oh, Aunt Madge," she sobbed, when they got home, "I had to keep as far behind Aunt Louise as I could, so nobody would think I was her little girl. She was ashamed of me, I looked so dirty!"
"There, there, try not to cry," said Aunt Madge, as she urged Susy to change into fresh clothes.
"But I can't stop crying, I feel so bad. Whenever there's a fuss, it's always me! I'm always in some kind of trouble. Sometimes, I wish there wasn't any such girl as me!"
Tears came into Aunt Madge's kind, gray eyes. She knew that the poor child should be comforted, so she quietly put away the silk dress she was so anxious to finish sewing. After handing Susy a fresh, white dress and a peach-colored satin sash, she turned to the pantry. Aunt Madge sat the droopy child down to a cooling meal of fresh bread and butter, cold chicken, pickles, raspberries, and cake, with a tall glass of milk.
After dinner, she took the fresh, tidy, happy, little Susy across the fields to Aunt Martha's again, where the unlucky day was finished very happily, after all.
"The truth is, Louise," said Aunt Madge that night, after their return, "Lonnie spilled that ink, and Susy was not at all to blame. You scolded her, without mercy, for being careless, and she bore it all, because she would not break her promise to that cowardly boy."
"Oh, how unfair I have been!" said Aunt Louise, who had not meant to be unkind, in spite of her snippy way of speaking.
"You have been unfair," said Aunt Madge. "Just think what a trifling thing it is for a little child to soil her dress, but what a great thing to have kept her word! Susy has a tender heart, and it hurts her to be unjustly scolded; but she would bear it all, rather than be disloyal. For my part, I am proud of such a noble, truthful little niece."
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