Part 6 (1/2)
Another winter pa.s.sed over the little household, a happy one, on the whole, in spite of stormy scenes at times with Aunt Emma, sharp words and sharp answers. The boys, as they grew older, found it harder to bear with her short, cold answers, her sharp commands, and constant snubbings of them in almost everything they said and did. Bella, who had never quite recovered from the shock of the scene when her aunt had beaten her so unmercifully, had an anxious time trying to stave off quarrels between them, and soften harsh words and pert answers, which might lead to them.
Bella had never forgotten that dreadful Monday, nor had she ever forgotten the talk with Aunt Maggie after, and the aim she had set before herself to do her best to make the house more comfortable and happy, and more what her mother would have made it had she been alive. She often failed, very often, in fact, and often despaired, but she never quite gave in, or, if she did, it was for a little while only.
There were many hills to climb on the road she had chosen, but there were many pleasant valleys too, and if sometimes her feet faltered and stumbled, and she felt weary and disheartened, and looked at the next hill hopelessly, feeling that she never could mount it, there were also happy hours, and sweet flowers and suns.h.i.+ne to cheer her, and sometimes there was such a feeling of hope and joy over all as made her heart sing and her spirits dance. For the house really was tidier and less neglected, her father came home regularly now, and was with them more, and she herself had something to do, some object in life, some work that she could do herself, and take a pride in.
Thus it was, when the spring came that was to bring such changes to their lives, such steep hills to climb that they wondered sometimes if there was any valley beyond, where they could rest a little, or any suns.h.i.+ne anywhere, so heavy were the shadows.
Bella's flower-beds were a picture that year, and her herb-bed too, with its great sprays of curly parsley, and bushes of mint and thyme, sage and borage. In fact, all the garden was a goodly sight, and no one would have recognised it for the garden of a year ago. There were rows of peas and beans, just coming to perfection, and every other kind of vegetable that s.p.a.ce could be found for. The fruit bushes were laden with promise of supplies in store, and already Miss Hender was making jam of the rhubarb, which filled up one corner of the garden with its handsome great leaves.
”It does seem a pity sometimes that I can't do more with all my flowers,”
said Bella one day. She had carried a glorious bunch of sweet peas and a basket of vegetables to Mrs. Langley. ”I give away a good many, but most people have their own, and don't really want any more, and they just grow and flower and fade, and n.o.body but ourselves see them. Aunt Emma won't let me bring in more than one little bunch at a time, so they just waste, and it does seem a pity when there's a lot, and all so pretty.”
Mrs. Langley looked at her lovely nosegay thoughtfully. ”Child,” she said at last, ”why don't you do up some bunches, and carry them into Norton on a market day, or any other day, and try to sell them? Why, I've known my missis, when I was in service, give s.h.i.+llings for flowers no better than you bring me day after day, and not as fresh and strong either, by a long way.”
”Sell my--flowers!” The suggestion, coming so suddenly, made Bella gasp.
”Oh, but, Aunt Maggie, how could I? I should have to go to people's houses and ask them to buy, shouldn't I? I don't believe I'd ever be able to make up my mind to.” Bella looked alarmed at the mere idea, but though alarmed she was also pleased with the daring suggestion, and her cheeks grew rosy red with excitement. Mrs. Langley nodded thoughtfully, but she did not reply at once. With many girls she would not have approved of such a plan, but she thought Bella could be trusted.
”Yes,” she said at last, ”I think you could be trusted, child, not to grow bold and rude and pus.h.i.+ng, even if you had to ask people to buy your flowers. You might, perhaps, be able to arrange with a florist to take all you had every week. Of course, he would want to make a profit, so you wouldn't get so much for them, but you would be saved a good deal of time and trouble, maybe.”
”Oh, but, Aunt Maggie, do you think I could? Do you think I should ever sell any?”
Bella was still half bewildered by the suddenness and boldness of the new proposal. There were so many sides to it, too, pleasant and unpleasant.
It would be splendid, she thought, to be able to turn her garden to account, and to feel her lovely flowers were not wasted. It would be splendid, too, to be able to put her money each week in her money-box.
She had been longing for some time past to be able to buy a gla.s.s frame to protect some of her seedlings through the winter,--and who knew but what her flowers would make this possible for her? The thought thrilled her.
On the other hand, she did shrink shyly from the prospect of going up to people and asking them to buy, and also from the thought of what her father and Aunt Emma would say. She mentioned this last thought to Aunt Maggie.
”If you would really like me to,” said Mrs. Langley, ”I will speak of it to your father before you do, and then, if he falls in with the plan, he can talk to your aunt about it. You see, Bella, child, there is another thing to bear in mind. You are nearly fourteen now, and before very long you'll have to be thinking about earning your living, and you'll have to go to service, or think of some way of earning it at home.”
”I've been thinking of that, Aunt Maggie;” and a moment later she added sadly, ”and if I went to service I'd have to leave all my flowers.”
”Of course you would, dear. It would be a great loss to you, wouldn't it?”
”Oh,” sighed Bella, realising for a moment how great a loss it would be, ”I don't believe I could ever bear it.”
Aunt Maggie smiled sadly. ”You could, dear. You will have far harder trials than that to bear, I am afraid, or you will be more than fortunate,” and she added after a moment's silence, ”We can make our garden wherever we are, and plant our seeds, and raise our flowers.”
”Not in service, Aunt Maggie?” cried Bella, incredulously, ”they wouldn't give me a bit of ground, would they, anywhere I went?”
Mrs. Langley smiled. ”They might in some places where the servant makes it her home, and the mistress tries to make it a real home to her, they let her have a little bit of ground to call her own. But I was thinking, dear, of another kind of garden,--the garden of life, where we can sow good seed or bad, and raise flowers, where we and others have to tread.
Flowers of patience and honesty, good-temper, willingness, and cheerfulness. They are very precious flowers to most people, for few get many such along the way they have to tread; and a sunny smile or a cheery word, or a kind act will often lighten the whole of a dull, hard day.
Don't ever forget to grow those flowers, my dear, or to shed suns.h.i.+ne wherever G.o.d may order you to dwell.”
”Does G.o.d order that, Aunt Maggie? Does He tell people where they must go? and shall I have to do as He tells me, and go where He sends me?”
”Yes, dear, and you can trust Him. He will only send you where you are needed, and where it is best for you to be.”
Bella went home in a very, very thoughtful mood that night. ”I wonder where G.o.d is going to send me, and what work He has for me to do?”
The idea filled her mind until, as she reached home, the thought suddenly rushed into her head, ”I wonder what father will say, when he hears what Aunt Maggie wants to talk to him about!”