Christian life -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
On the north side of Ellen's room were three doors. She had never opened
them, but now took it into her head to see what was there, thinking she
might possibly find what would help her out of her difficulty. She had
some little fear of meddling with anything in her aunt's domain, so she
fastened her own door to guard against interruption while she was busied
in making discoveries.
At the foot of her bed, in the corner, was one large door fastened by a
button, as indeed they were all. This opened, she found, upon a flight
of stairs, leading as she supposed to the garret; but Ellen did not care
to go up and see. They were lighted by half of a large window, across
the middle of which the stairs went up. She quickly shut that door and
opened the next, a little one. Here she found a tiny closet under the
stairs, lighted by the other half of the window. There was nothing in it
but a broad low shelf or step under the stairs, where Ellen presently
decided she could stow away her books very nicely. "It only wants a
little brushing out," said Ellen, "and it will do very well." The other
door, in the other corner, admitted her to a large light closet,
perfectly empty. "Now if there were only some hooks or pegs here,"
thought Ellen, "to hang up dresses on--but why shouldn't I drive some
nails? I will! I will! Oh, that'll be fine!"
Unfastening her door in a hurry she ran downstairs, and her heart
beating between pleasure and the excitement of daring so far without
her aunt's knowledge, she ran out and crossed the chip-yard to the
barn, where she had some hope of finding Mr. Van Brunt. By the time
she got to the little cow-house door a great noise of knocking or
pounding in the barn made her sure he was there, and she went on to
the lower barn-floor. There he was, he and the two farm boys (who,
by-the-bye, were grown men), all three threshing wheat. Ellen stopped
at the door, and for a minute forgot what she had come for in the
pleasure of looking at them. The clean floor was strewn with grain,
upon which the heavy flails came down one after another with quick
regular beat--one--two--three--one--two--three,--keeping perfect time.
The pleasant sound could be heard afar off, though, indeed, where
Ellen stood it was rather too loud to be pleasant. Her little voice
had no chance of being heard; she stood still and waited. Presently
Johnny, who was opposite, caught a sight of her, and without stopping
his work said to his leader, "Somebody there for you, Mr. Van Brunt."
That gentleman's flail ceased its motion, then he threw it down and
went to the door to help Ellen up the high step.
"Well," said he, "have you come out to see what's going on?"
"No," said Ellen, "I've been looking--but Mr. Van Brunt, could you be so
good as to let me have a hammer and half-a-dozen nails?"
"A hammer and half-a-dozen nails? Come this way," said he.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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