Christian life -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"What do you do with yourself on Sunday?"
"Nothing, ma'am; I don't know what to do with myself all the day long. I
get tired of being in the house, and I go out of doors, and then I get
tired of being out of doors and come in again. I wanted a kitten
dreadfully, but Mr. Van Brunt said Aunt Fortune would not let me keep
one."
"Did you want a kitten to help you keep Sunday, Ellen," said her friend,
smiling.
"Yes, I did, ma'am," said Ellen, smiling again; "I thought it would be a
great deal of company for me. I got very tired of reading all day long,
and I had nothing to read but the Bible; and you know, ma'am, I told you
I have been all wrong ever since I came here, and I didn't like to read
that much."
"My poor child," said the lady, "you have been hardly bestead, I think.
What if you were to come and spend next Sunday with me? Don't you think
I should do instead of a kitten?"
"Oh yes, ma'am, I am sure of it," said Ellen, clinging to her. "Oh, I'll
come gladly if you will let me, and if Aunt Fortune will let me; and I
hope she will, for she said last Sunday I was the plague of her life."
"What did you do to make her say so?" said her friend gravely.
"Only asked her for some books, ma'am."
"Well, my dear, I see I am getting upon another of your troubles, and we
haven't time for that now. By your own account you have been much in
fault yourself; and I trust you will find all things mend with your own
mending. But now there goes the sun!--and you and I must follow his
example."
The lake ceased to gleam, and the houses of the village were less
plainly to be seen; still the mountain heads were as bright as ever.
Gradually the shadows crept up their sides, while the grey of evening
settled deeper and deeper upon the valley.
"There," said Ellen, "that's just what I was wondering at the other
morning; only then the light shone upon the top of the mountains first
and walked down, and now it leaves the bottom first and walks up. I
asked Mr. Van Brunt about it, and he could not tell me. That's another
of my troubles,--there's nobody that can tell me anything."
"Put me in mind of it to-morrow, and I'll try to make you understand
it," said the lady, "but we must not tarry now. I see you are likely to
find me work enough, Ellen."
"I'll not ask you a question, ma'am, if you don't like it," said Ellen
earnestly.
"I do like, I do like," said the other. "I spoke laughingly, for I see
you will be apt to ask me a good many. As many as you please, my dear."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Ellen, as they ran down the hill, "they keep
coming into my head all the while."
It was easier going down than coming up. They soon arrived at the place
where Ellen had left the road to take the wood-path.
"Here we part," said the lady. "Good-night."
"Good-night, ma'am."
There was a kiss and a squeeze of the hand, but when Ellen would have
turned away the lady still held her fast.
"You are an odd little girl," said she. "I gave you liberty to ask me
questions."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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