Christian life -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Meanwhile she opened the little door of Ellen's study closet and went in
there, though Ellen begged her not. She pulled the door to, and stayed
some time perfectly quiet. Not able to see or hear what she was doing,
and fretted beyond measure that her workbox and writing-desk should be
at Nancy's mercy, or even feel the touch of her fingers, Ellen at last
could stand it no longer, but threw herself out of the bed, weak as she
was, and went to see what was going on. Nancy was seated quietly on the
floor, examining with much seeming interest the contents of the workbox,
trying on the thimble, cutting bits of thread with the scissors, and
marking the ends of the spools, with whatever like pieces of mischief
her restless spirit could devise; but when Ellen opened the door she put
the box from her and started up.
"My goodness me!" said she, "this'll never do. What are you out here
for? You'll catch your death with those dear little bare feet, and we
shall have the mischief to pay."
As she said this she caught up Ellen in her arms as if she had been a
baby and carried her back to the bed, where she laid her with two or
three little shakes, and then proceeded to spread up the clothes and
tuck her in all round. She then ran for the gruel. Ellen was in great
question whether to give way to tears or vexation; but with some
difficulty determined upon vexation as the best plan. Nancy prepared the
gruel to her liking, and brought it to the bedside; but to get it
swallowed was another matter. Nancy was resolved Ellen should take it.
Ellen had less strength but quite as much obstinacy as her enemy, and
she was equally resolved not to drink a drop. Between laughing on
Nancy's part and very serious anger on Ellen's a struggle ensued. Nancy
tried to force it down, but Ellen's shut teeth were as firm as a vice,
and the end was that two-thirds were bestowed on the sheet. Ellen burst
into tears; Nancy laughed.
"Well, I _do_ think," said she, "you are one of the hardest customers
ever I came across. I shouldn't want to have the managing of you when
you get a little bigger. Oh, the way Miss Fortune will look when she
comes in here will be a caution! Oh, what fun!"
Nancy shouted and clapped her hands. "Come, stop crying!" said she;
"what a baby you are! What are you crying for? Come, stop. I'll make you
laugh if you don't."
Two or three little applications of Nancy's fingers made her words good,
but laughing was mixed with crying, and Ellen writhed in hysterics.
Just then came a little knock at the door. Ellen did not hear it, but it
quieted Nancy. She stood still a moment, and then as the knock was
repeated she called out boldly, "Come in!" Ellen raised her head "to see
who there might be," and great was the surprise of both and the joy of
one as the tall form and broad shoulders of Mr. Van Brunt presented
themselves.
"Oh, Mr. Van Brunt," sobbed Ellen, "I am so glad to see you! Won't you
please send Nancy away!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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