Part 17 (1/2)
”How is it that you are all alone?” asked Nathalie, taking out an orange from the basket; ”where are Mother and Mammy?”
”Mamma went to de town, and Mammy-she's doin' de wash,” and then her eyes expanded with joy as she spied the orange.
The orange was soon demolished, and then, as Nathalie started to show her the two picture-books, she realized that Miss I Can confronted her again, for a sticky mouth and hands revealed the fact that she had an unpleasant task to perform. For a moment she hesitated, but quickly overcoming her disinclination, she plunged in, got a basin of water, and finding no wash-cloth, dipped her own dainty handkerchief in it, and amid sundry squeals and protests gave the little face and hands a good scrubbing.
This performed, the picture-books were brought forth and she was soon busy explaining the pictures to the pleased little girl. But this diversion she soon tired of and then came the cry, ”Oh, Story Lady, won't yo' please tell me er story?”
”Why, I don't think I know any now-” Nathalie had meant to look up a fairy book so as to be prepared, but the pleading look in the black eyes upturned to hers won its way and she said, ”All right, I'll see what I know? How would 'The Babes in the Woods' do?”
As this t.i.tle was mentioned, a cry of protest came from the child, ”No, I don't want to hear about de woods. I'se afraid of de woods.”
”Of course you don't, you poor little chickie,” answered Nathalie contritely, and then her face lightened up as a streak of suns.h.i.+ne at that moment glancing in the window proved an inspiration. So she began to tell about Suns.h.i.+ne Polly, who had been told that if she could get some suns.h.i.+ne in her heart she would always be happy, and how she forthwith set out for this golden country, and after many adventures found it. Indeed it proved to be a most beautiful place, with a king, very round and bright, and a lot of suns.h.i.+ne fairies flying all about throwing some of their sunny treasure into the eyes of every one they saw.
By the bright eyes watching her, Nathalie knew that she had made a good selection this time, and the story progressed. She told how Polly got the sunbeams, with a breathing spell every now and then to think up some more, and the cries, ”Oh, dat's a lubly story! Oh, I likes dat story!”
But at last Polly returned from the land of suns.h.i.+ne with a crown of sunbeams on her head and a big bundle of it in her heart.
Nathalie smiled as she finished, for it seemed as if she too, had been to the suns.h.i.+ne land and had put some of it into Rosy's little heart.
”Ah, now I will get a chance to slip away,” she thought, picking up her basket as a prelude to her departure.
But Rosy, surmising by her movement that she contemplated leaving, began to wail plaintively, begging her so hard to tell just one more ”lubly story.” As Nathalie stood, trying her best to think of another story, she heard a slight noise, and looked up to see three little black faces with big s.h.i.+ny eyes staring at her from over the ledge of the window.
The girl broke into a merry laugh, for really it was funny to see those three round faces-like a row of flower-pot saucers on a shelf. ”Why, how did you get there?” she cried and then again burst into laughter. The laughter proved contagious, for the three little pickaninnies immediately joined in her merriment, and then, evidently thinking this was an invitation to come in, one after the other slid over the sill and trotted up to the bed, to the great delight of Rosy. Here they climbed up, sitting on the edge with their naked black feet hanging down, looking for all the world like monkeys' claws as they swung them to and fro, anxiously waiting for the story to begin.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Why, how did you get there?”]
”Oh, what shall I tell them?” worried Nathalie, but in a flash she remembered, and was soon in the mysteries of that beloved of all fairy tales, ”Jack and the Bean Stalk.” The interested glow in four pairs of eyes was inspiring, and amply repaid her for the time that she had so reluctantly given the little hearers.
The tale was soon ended, and again Nathalie sprang to her feet, feeling that now she must go, for there was that dessert she had to make for dinner. She gathered up her basket and had just turned to say good-by to her audience of four, when she saw Dr. Morrow, who was standing by the door, smiling down at her with his kindly eyes.
”Oh, were you there all the time?” she asked in dismay. The doctor nodded as he said, ”Yes, Blue Robin, I have enjoyed your story very much. You had such an appreciative audience,” smiling at the little black faces, ”that I was reluctant to disturb their bliss. Our little friend Rosy has well named you, 'The Story Lady.'”
He turned towards his patient, and then with a kindly word for each of her little friends, he began to inquire as to how Rosy was. As Felia at this moment entered the room, Nathalie waved a good-by to Rosy, and surrounded by the three pickaninnies, each one eager to carry her basket, hurried out of the room and into the suns.h.i.+ne she had been telling about. The many comments made by her body-guard of three, showed how eager they were for the joys of story-land-a rare treat to them.
Realizing how much can be taught a child through story-telling, as she had found when she was a child, Nathalie fell to thinking. By the time she reached home she had planned a story club-oh, it would be just the thing-if the Pioneers would agree to it. They could take turns, only an hour once or twice a week, in telling stories to these new friends of hers, and who knows, if the cla.s.s grew they might eventually do a great deal of good? Still somewhat timid of taking the initiative, she planned to lay it before Helen and let the suggestion come from her.
Nathalie was trilling softly to herself little s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, for somehow on that bright June day she felt very happy. She had started, as she told Helen, on a new career. Of course her mother had objected at first to her taking Felia's place, but when she found that Nathalie was determined, she had consented, feeling that perhaps it would not harm her for a while. And then, too, she would learn many things she needed to know, and this was her opportunity to learn them. So Nathalie had won her consent, and with the help of Dorothy, who had been pressed into service, and the few things she allowed her mother to do, she had found her work slip along more easily than she had antic.i.p.ated, and the thought that she was earning a mite towards a great object, as Helen said, had proved the glory.
And so she sang away, doing the week's stint of darning, as the stocking drill at the Pilgrim Rally had helped her wonderfully, and now she was quite a.s.sured that her mother did not have to do her work over.
As she glanced up from her work to watch a tiny humming bird that was flitting among the leaves of the honeysuckle trellis, she heard the throb of an engine, and looked up to see Dr. Morrow's car coming up the road. To her surprise, instead of running his car in through his gate to the garage, he brought it to a standstill in front of their house, alighted, and a moment later was coming briskly up the path.
His cheery greeting broke in upon her surprise as he cried, ”Well, Blue Robin, so you are at home!” O dear! every one seemed to be calling her that nowadays, the girl thought a little ruefully.
”Good morning,” she cried; then her face paled apprehensively. ”Oh, have you come about d.i.c.k-do you think his knee is worse?” she faltered, suddenly remembering that her brother had complained quite a little the last three days with the pain in his knee.
”No, I have not come about d.i.c.k,” was the rea.s.suring answer. ”I have come to see you on important business. d.i.c.k is doing as well as can be until he is operated on.”
Nathalie sighed, and then said, ”Oh, Doctor, I do wish you would explain to me about d.i.c.k's operation! Mother told me a little, but you see I don't know much about these things.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows in pretended surprise and then he said in a serious tone, ”I should say not. Such things as operations are not for little Blue Robins. They are supposed to trill little tru-al-lee songs, or tell fairy tales to children, as I hear some of them have been doing lately.”