The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII. No. 358, November 6, 1886. — John Shaqi
The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII. No. 358, November 6, 1886.Various
General
The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII. No. 358, November 6, 1886.
Various
Children's literature -- Periodicals
"I will just take off my bonnet and try and make friends with him," I
returned, and Hannah, who really seemed a good-natured creature, ushered
me into the night nursery--a large, cheerful room, with a bright fire,
and a comfortable-looking bed, with a brass crib on each side--and
pointed out to me the large chest of drawers and hanging wardrobe for my
own special use, and then went down on her knees to unstrap my box.
"Thank you, Hannah, I will not wait to unpack now, as I daresay Mrs.
Garnett is wanted downstairs," and as soon as she had left the room I
opened the box and took out the pretty cap and apron, and proceeded to
invest myself in my nurse's livery. I hope Aunt Agatha had not made me
vain by that injudicious praise, but I certainly thought they looked
very nice, and gave me a sense of importance.
The tall housemaid--Rhoda they called her--stared at me as I re-entered,
but Mrs Garnett gave me an approving glance; but it was baby who
afforded me most satisfaction, for he screwed up his little rosebud of a
mouth in the prettiest fashion and said, "Nur, nur," at the same time
holding out his arms for me to take him. I must confess I forgot Aunt
Agatha in that moment of triumph.
"He takes to you quite nicely, my dear," observed Mrs. Garnett, in her
cosy voice, as the little fellow nestled down contentedly in my arms.
"Yes, you may leave him to me I think now," I returned, quietly, for I
felt that I should be glad to be left to myself a little. I was very
thankful when my hint was taken, and Mrs. Garnett and Rhoda went
downstairs and Hannah disappeared into the next room. My charge was
becoming decidedly drowsy, and after a few turns up and down the room, I
could sit down in the low chair by the fire and hear the soft, regular
breathing against my shoulder, while my eyes travelled round the walls
of my new home.
Such a pleasant room it was, large and bright, and sunny, and furnished
so tastefully. The canaries were singing blithely; the Persian kitten
was rolled up into a furry ball on the rug; a small Skye terrier, who I
afterwards discovered went by the name of Snap, was keeping guard over
me from a nest of cushions on the big couch opposite. Now and then he
growled to himself softly, as though remonstrating against my intrusion,
but whenever I spoke to him gently, he sat up and begged, so I imagined
his animosity was not very bitter.
"My lines have fallen to me in pleasant places." I wonder why those
words came to my mind. I wished Aunt Agatha could see me now, sitting in
this lovely room, with this little cherub on my lap; she would not be so
despondent about the future. "I do believe it will answer; I mean to
make it answer," I said to myself, energetically. Indeed, I was so
absorbed in my reverie, that Mrs. Morton's soft footsteps on the thick
carpet never roused me until I looked up and saw her standing beside me,
smiling, with Joyce beside her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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