Part 45 (1/2)

”You see, sister,” persisted uncle Nathan, ”this little girl isn't as the Judge says, a sort of person to make a pet of, like the one Mrs.

Farnham has adopted.”

Aunt Hannah started, and looked up with one of those sharp glances, that we have once seen disturb the cold monotony of her face. There was something in the name of Mrs. Farnham, that seemed to sting her into life.

”She isn't handsome, you know,” persisted the good man, ”but you won't care for that, Hannah. The Judge says she's a bright, good little creature, and she'll be company for us, don't you think so?”

Aunt Hannah looked at the Judge, who stood regarding her with some degree of anxiety.

”Judge,” she said, ”that woman yonder? She is rich, and these two children loved each other--why did she send this girl to me?”

”She did not; I brought her without her knowledge,” said the Judge.

”Young Farnham first suggested it.”

”Young Farnham?” said the woman, and a glow came to her forehead.

”But why were they put asunder?”

”Mrs. Farnham seems to have taken a dislike to poor Mary,” was the reply. ”The other child is very pretty, and this was a great recommendation, for a lady like her, you know; besides my ward was very anxious that you should take charge of her.”

The quick fire once more came to aunt Hannah's eyes. She drew herself up, and looking at Enoch Sharp, said, with a degree of feeling very unusual to her,

”Judge Sharp, you can go home. I will take the girl and bring her up after my own fas.h.i.+on; but, as for your money, we are not poor enough--my brother and I--to sell kindness--not, not even to him.”

The Judge would have spoken, but aunt Hannah waved her hand, after her usual cold, stately fas.h.i.+on, saying, ”take the girl--or leave her with me.”

”But she will be a burden upon you!” he began to say.

Aunt Hannah did not answer, but going into ”the out room,” removed Mary's bonnet and mantilla, then, taking her by the hand, she led her into the porch directly before uncle Nathan.

”Talk with her,” she said; ”I have the ch.o.r.es to do up yet.”

”Yes, yes, talk with uncle Nathan, Mary; you will feel at home at once,” cried the Judge, somewhat annoyed that all his benevolent plans could not be carried out, but glad, nevertheless, that his poor favorite had found a home.

There are faces in the world which a warm-hearted person cannot look upon without a glow of generous emotion. Those faces are seldom among the most beautiful. Certainly, I have never found them so; but, this power of waking up all the sweet emotions of an irrepressible nature is worth all the beauty on earth. Uncle Nathan Heap's face was of this character. Full and ruddy, it beamed with an expression so benevolent, so warm and true, that you were ready to love and trust him at the first glance.

Mary Fuller had too much character in herself not to feel all that was n.o.ble in his. Her eye lighted up, the color came in a faint hue to her cheeks, and, without a word, she placed her little hands between the plump brown palms that were extended to receive her.

Uncle Nathan drew her close up to his knees, pressing her little hands kindly between his, and perusing her face with his friendly brown eyes.

”There, that will do, you are a nice little girl,” he said, ”I'm glad the Judge thought of bringing you here.”

Mary was ready to cry. This reception was so cheering, after the cold interrogations of aunt Hannah.

”Go, bring that milking-stool, yonder, and sit down here while I talk with you a little,” said uncle Nathan, pointing toward three or four stools, that hung on the picket fence in the back garden.

Mary ran across the cabbage patch, and brought the milking-stool, which she placed near the old man.

”Close up, close up,” he said, patting his fat knee, as if he expected her to lean against it. ”There, now, this will do. Sit still and see how you like the garden while the suns.h.i.+ne strikes it.”

Mary looked around full of serious curiosity. The suns.h.i.+ne was falling across the cabbage patch, which she had just crossed, tinging the great heads with gold. The ma.s.sive effect of this blended green and gold; the deep tints of the outer leaves, lined and crimped into a curious network; the inner leaves folded so hard and crisp, in their lighter green; all struck the child as singularly beautiful. Then the dun red of the beet leaves, that took up the slanting sunbeams as they strayed over the garden, scattering gold everywhere; and the delicate and feathery green of the parsnip beds: these all had a charm for her young eyes, a charm that one must feel for the first time to appreciate.