Golden Moments | Page 6

cherry boots to Tommy, and then they got the doll's perambulator and wheeled the cherries to market, and then Tommy said it was time to eat the cherries, and he divided them fairly, and soon ate his share up. But what a mess he did make of his hands and face! they were stained black with cherry juice. "Never mind!" said Tommy calmly, "I'll soon wipe it all off;" and catching hold of a sheet which hung on the line near, he first rubbed himself quite clean, and then gave Jeannie's hands a rub, too, on this most convenient towel. Not till he had finished, and the sheet was again flapping in the wind, did thoughtless Tommy reflect on the mischief he had done. But when he saw the purple stains on the clean sheet he began to cry bitterly, and running to his mother, he pulled her round and showed her the cherry-stained sheet.
"Look, mother! look! But I didn't mean to," he sobbed.
"Mothers," says an old writer, "should be all patience," and certainly Mrs. Jones needed patience that morning. She did look vexed at first, as she saw her work undone, but the next minute she was able to say gently, "What a pity, Tommy! You should think a bit, and then you would be able to help me when I'm busy," and that was all. She took the sheet down and put it once more in the wash-tub.
Meanwhile Tommy sat quietly sucking his thumb. He always sucked his thumb when he thought, and just now he had a great deal to think of. Mother had said he might help her! That was quite a new idea to Tommy, and he sucked his thumb harder than ever.
That summer's day marked a turning point in Tommy's life. He then determined--little fellow as he was--to help mother, and it was wonderful how soon the thoughtless little pickle grew into a helpful boy.
"It seems as if he couldn't do enough for me," Mrs. Jones would declare, with honest pride in her tone; "and Jeannie, she copies Tommy, and between them both they'll fetch and carry and run for me till I seem as if I had nothing left for me to do. I'm a lucky woman, that I am!"
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LITTLE SISTER.
Sleep, little sister, a sweet, sweet sleep, Dear little sister with eyes so blue, Daylight is dying And shadows are lying, Lying where lately the sunbeams grew!
The pretty birds, little one, cease to sing, Cosy are they in the mossy nest, Birdies like we, dear, Weary must be, dear, Glad in the gloaming to get to rest!
The flowers are closing their petals fair, Closing them up till the dawn of day, Then in their beauty, Doing their duty, All will uncurtain their colours gay!
Sleep, little sister, a sweet, sweet sleep, Dear little sister with eyes so blue, Sleep without fear, love, Sissie is near, love, She will keep watch, and be guard over you!
E. Oxenford.
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"LITTLE ME."
I cannot tell how she came to be called "Little Me." She was a shy little girl, and almost afraid of her own voice; though to hear her playing with her brothers you would not have fancied that she was shy. And now they were on their way to the country. There was Emma the nurse, and Miss Brown the governess, Little Me, Tommy, aged seven, and Jack, aged ten. There was first a long journey in a cab, with many boxes; then a long journey in a train very full of people.
It seemed to Little Me as if that train had been going on all the day, and the sandwiches and milk which nurse had in a little hamper tasted quite warm; and Little Me's legs ached from dangling from a seat too high for her feet to reach the ground, and at last she fell asleep.
She awoke suddenly with a start to find every one turning out of the train, and she felt cross and inclined to cry, but there was no time.
[Illustration: "LITTLE ME."]
At last all three children, Miss Brown, and nurse were safely packed into a carriage which was waiting for them. The luggage came behind in a cart.
Little Me was really tired, so nurse put her to sit on a soft rug at the bottom of the carriage. Here she could just see green trees overhead, and the tops of green hedges, and soft white clouds turning to gold and red, as the sun set behind some hills in the far-off distance.
They reached at last a pretty cottage, with a thatched roof and a white wall quite covered with red roses. There was a little path of round stones leading up to the front door, and all the windows had small diamond panes.
A stout old lady, in a spotless white cap with pink