she's not much," said one of the girls.
"Poorly off," said I.
"Do you see her dress? Why, I believe it is nothing but a sixpenny
calico."
"Poor thing, she must be cold."
"I can't imagine how a person can wear calico in winter," said another,
whose rich plaid was the admiration of the school.
"I must say I like to see a person dressed according to the season,"
remarked another; "that is, if people can afford it," she added, in a
manner plainly enough indicating that her father could.
Such was recess talk. None of us went to take the stranger by the hand
and welcome her as the companion of our studies and our play. We
stood aloof, and stared at her with cold and unfeeling curiosity. The
teacher called her Abby. When she first came to her place for recitation,
she took a seat beside the rich plaid. The plaid drew haughtily away, as
if the sixpenny calico might dim the beauty of its colours. A slight
colour flushed Abby's cheek, but her quiet remained the same. It was
some time before she ventured on the play-ground, and then it was only
to stand aside, and look on, for we were slow in asking her to join us.
On one occasion we had a harder arithmetic lesson than usual,
completely baffling our small brains. Upon comparing notes at recess,
none of us had mastered it.
"I'll ask Abby of her success," said one of my intimate associates.
"It is quite unlikely she has," I replied; "do stay here; besides, what if
she has?"
"I will go," she answered.
Away she went, and as it appeared, Abby and she were the only
members of the class ready for recitation. Abby had been more
successful than the rest of us, and kindly helped my friend to scale the
difficulties of the lesson.
"Shall we ask Abby to join the sleigh-ride?" asked one of the girls, who
was getting a subscription for a famous New Year's ride.
"Judging from her dress," I said, "if she goes, we must give her the
ride."
"But how will it do to leave her out?" they asked.
"She does not of course expect to be asked to ride with us," I said; "she
is evidently of a poor family."
As a sort of leader in school, my words were influential, and poor Abby
was left out. How often did I contrast my white hands and warm gloves
with the purple fingers and cheap mittens of my neighbour Abby. How
miserable I should be with such working hands and no gloves.
By-and-by I took to patronizing her. "She is really a very nice creature,
and ought to join us more in our plays," we said. So we used to make
her "one of us" in the play-ground. In fact, I began to thaw towards her
very considerably. There was something in Abby which called out our
respect.
One Saturday afternoon, as I was looking out of the window, wishing
for something to do, my mother asked me to join her in a little walk.
On went my new cloak, warm furs, and pink hat, and in a trice I was
ready. We went first to the stores, where I was very glad to be met by
several acquaintances in my handsome winter dress. At last I found my
mother turning off into less frequented thoroughfares.
"Where, mother," I asked, "in this vulgar part of the town?"
"Not vulgar, my dear," she said. "A very respectable and industrious
part of our population live here."
"Not fashionable, certainly," I added.
"And not vulgar because not fashionable, by any means," she said; for
you may be sure my false and often foolish notions were not gained
from her. She stopped before a humble-looking house, and entered the
front door.
"Where are you going?" I asked with much curiosity.
She gently opened a side door, and hesitated a moment on the
threshold.
"Caroline, come in," said a voice from within. "I am very happy to see
you."
"Pray, don't rise, dear," said my mother, going forward and
affectionately kissing a sick lady who sat in a rocking chair. "You look
better than when I saw you before. Do not exert yourself."
I was introduced, and I fancied the invalid looked at me with a sort of
admiring surprise as she took my hand and hoped I should prove
worthy of such a mother. Then, while my mother and she were talking,
I sat down and took notes with my eyes of everything in the room. It
looked beautifully neat, and the furniture evidently had seen better days.
By-and-by mother asked for her daughter.
"Gone out on some errands," said the sick lady. "The dear child is an
inexpressible blessing to me,"
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