Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
A balmy wind kissed a little color into the pale cheeks, the
listless eyes brightened as they looked, and the fretful lines
vanished from lips that smiled involuntarily at the sweet welcome
Nature gave the city child come to rest and play and grow gay and
rosy in her green lap.
Becky watched her with interest, and was glad to see how soon the
new-comer felt the charm of the place, for the girl loved her
mountain home, and thought the old farm-house the loveliest spot in
the world.
“When you get stronger I can show you lots of nice views round here.
There's a woodsy place behind the house that's just lovely. Down by
the laurel bushes is MY favorite spot, and among the rocks is a cave
where I keep things handy when I get a resting-spell now and then,
and want to be quiet. Can't get much at home, when there's boarders
and five children round in vacation time.”
Becky laughed as she spoke, and there was a sweet motherly look in
her plain face, as she glanced at the three little red heads bobbing
about the door-yard below, where hens cackled, a pet lamb fed, and
the old white dog lay blinking in the sun.
“I like children; we have none at home, and Mamma makes such a baby
of me I'm almost ashamed sometimes. I want her to have a good rest
now, for she has taken care of me all winter and needs it. You shall
be my nurse, if I need one; but I hope to be so well soon that I can
see to myself. It's so tiresome to be ill!” and Emily sighed as she
leaned back among her pillows, with a glance at the little glass
which showed her a thin face and shorn head.
“It must be! I never was sick, but I have taken care of sick folks,
and have a sight of sympathy for 'em. Mother says I make a pretty
good nurse, being strong and quiet,” answered Becky, plumping up
pillows and folding towels with a gentle despatch which was very
grateful to the invalid, who had dreaded a noisy, awkward
serving-maid.
“Never ill! how nice that must be! I'm always having colds and
headaches, and fusses of some kind. What do you do to keep well,
Rebecca?” asked Emily, watching her with interest, as she came in to
remove the tray.
“Nothing but work; I haven't time to be sick, and when I'm tuckered
out, I go and rest over yonder. Then I'm all right, and buckle to
again, as smart as ever;” and every freckle in Becky's rosy face
seemed to shine with cheerful strength and courage.
“I'm 'tuckered out' doing nothing,” said Emily, amused with the new
expression, and eager to try a remedy which showed such fine results
in this case. “I shall visit your pet places and do a little work as
soon as I am able, and see if it won't set me up. Now I can only
dawdle, doze, and read a little. Will you please put those books
here on the table? I shall want them by-and-by.”
Emily pointed to a pile of blue and gold volumes lying on a trunk,
and Becky dusted her hands as she took them up with an air of
reverence, for she read on the backs of the volumes names which made
her eyes sparkle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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