Hatty and Marcus | Page 7

Here, Meg, pour this away directly, and don't do such a thing again!"
"It won't help it to throw it away," said Meg. "I want to blow bubbles."
"Shan't have it! shan't have it!" said little Harry, holding tight to the edge of the bowl with his little fat hands.
"Aunt Barbara," said Mrs. Lee, very gently, "I told the children they might blow bubbles a little while this afternoon. Jane mixed the soap for them, that they need not be wasteful."
"Its little use savin' in such a house as this!" said Aunt Barbara, and she walked away as if she were particularly injured.
Marcus now came in to tell how happy and contented the chickens seemed in the new coop. He saw some evidences of displeasure on the faces of Meg and Harry, and he exclaimed, "I met Aunt Barbara in the hall, with her indignation strut on. What's up?"
"Marcus, my son, I cannot bear to hear you speak in that way of any old person, especially of Aunt Barbara."
"But she is too tiresome and provoking, Mother. If I want a piece of twine for a kite-string she calls it wasteful, and--"
"Yes," broke in Meg, "and when I want to play tea, she won't let me have a bit of milk or sugar,--that is, if mother is not here."
"Hush, hush, my children," said Mrs. Lee, with a look of pain. "Come, sit down all of you, and I will tell you a story."
Marcus liked to hear stories as well as little Meg herself, and he forthwith sat down on the floor, where he could look straight into his mother's eyes.
Mrs. Lee began: "Once there was a little orphan girl, only seven years old. Her father and mother died, and she did not know what was to become of her. Now this little girl had an aunt, who was the widow of a clergyman. This aunt had a little cottage of her own, and just enough money to live quietly and comfortably by herself. She knew if she took the little orphan to her home, she must deny herself a great many comforts to which she had always been accustomed; but she resolved to do it.
The little girl was very glad when she found that she was not alone in the wide world, and she soon learned to love the kind aunt who did so much for her.
Sometimes she was surprised to see what care her aunt took, that nothing should be wasted; and she often wondered why her aunt did not buy herself a new bonnet, or a new dress, which she seemed to need. She did not know that her aunt had to practice so much care and economy, to give her a home. By and by, when she grew older, she understood all this, and tried to be like a daughter to the friend who had been so kind to her. Her aunt's queer little ways only made her feel, then, that it was for her she had learned to save even the shreds she cut off when she was sewing. After the orphan girl was grown, she was married to a very kind gentleman. This gentleman was so grateful to the aunt for her care of the orphan, that he wanted her to come and live with them in her comfortable home; but Aunt Barbara said--"
"There, there, Mother! you have let it out," exclaimed the children in a breath.
"Don't, don't," said Hatty; "what did Aunt Barbara say, Mother?"
"She said, your old aunty is queer and notional, and maybe you would be happier without her. No, no, let me stay here alone; I shall be quite contented to know my little orphan is so well taken care of! It was of no use urging Aunt Barbara, so we had to let her have her way. Now, my children, you know how Aunt Barbara got her very economical ways, and I hope you will have patience with her, for my sake."
"Indeed, I will!" said Hatty, looking up with her eyes full of tears.
"I won't tease her any more," said Meg, nestling at her mother's side.
Marcus was silent; he felt too deeply to speak, how ill a return he had made to Aunt Barbara for her kindness to his mother.
"But how came Aunt Barbara here?" asked Hatty, with much interest.
"I will tell you," said Mrs. Lee. "We had been married three years, when I had a little, helpless, sickly baby. I was too feeble to take proper care of it, and your father was obliged to be too much away from home to give me any help. Aunt Barbara heard how weak and pale I was looking, and what a poor, suffering baby I had. Then the old lady let her little home to a stranger, and came one day to us. She