Grandmother Dear: A Book for Boys and Girls Read online

  CHAPTER VIII.

  GRANDMOTHER'S STORY----(_continued_).

  "O while you live, tell truth."

  HENRY IV., Part 1.

  So in a few minutes they were all settled again, and grandmother went on.

  "We were walking through a very narrow street, I was telling you--was Inot? when I caught sight of something that suddenly changed my ideas.'What was this something?' you are all asking, I see. It was a china cupin a shop window we were passing, a perfect match it seemed to me of theunfortunate one still lamenting its fate by rattling its bits in mypocket! It was a shabby little old shop, of which there were a good manyin the town, filled with all sorts of curiosities, and quite in the frontof the window, as conspicuous as if placed there on purpose, stood thecup. I darted forward to beg my father to let me wait a moment, but justthen, curiously enough, he had met a friend and was standing talking tohim, and when I touched his arm, he turned rather hastily, for, as Itold you, he had not been pleased with my way of replying about mygrandmother. And he said to me I must not be so impatient, but wait tillhe had finished speaking to Mr. Lennox. I asked him if I might look in atthe shop window, and he said 'Yes, of course I might,' so I flew back,the bits rattle-rattling in my pocket, and stood gazing at the twin-cup.I must tell you that I happened to have in my possession an unusualamount of money just then--ten shillings, actually ten whole shillings,which my father had given me on my birthday, and as I always brought mypurse with me when I came into the town, there it was all ready! I lookedand looked at the cup till I was satisfied it was a perfect match, thenglancing up the street and seeing my father still talking to his friend,I crept timidly into the shop, and asked the price of the pink cup andsaucer in the window.

  "The old man in the shop was a German; afterwards my grandmother told mehe was a Jew, and well accustomed to having his prices beaten down. Helooked at me curiously and said to me,

  "'Ach! too moch for leetle young lady like you. Zwanzig--twentyschelling, that cup. Old lady bought von, vill come again buy anoder.Zwanzig--twenty schelling.'

  "I grew more and more eager. The old lady he spoke of must be mygrandmother; I had often heard my father laugh at her for poking aboutold shops; I felt perfectly certain the cups were exactly alike. I beggedthe old man to let me have it, and opened my purse to show him all Ihad--the ten shilling piece, two sixpences and a fourpenny, and a fewcoppers. That was all, and the old man shook his head. It was too little,'twenty schelling,' he repeated, or at the very least, to oblige the'young lady,' fifteen. I said to him I had not got fifteen--eleven andnine-pence was everything I possessed, and at last, in my eagerness, Inearly burst into tears. I really do not know if the old man was sorryfor me, or if he only thought of getting my money; however that may havebeen, he took my purse out of my hand and slowly counted out the money.I meanwhile, nearly dancing with impatience, while he repeated'nine-pence, von schelling, zehn schelling ach vell, most be, most be,'and to my great delight he handed me the precious cup and saucer, firstwrapping them up in a dirty bit of newspaper.

  ZWANZIG--TWENTY SCHELLING, THAT CUP.]

  "Then he took the ten-shilling piece out of my purse, and handed it backto me, leaving me in possession of my two sixpences, my fourpenny bit,and my five coppers.

  "I flew out of the shop, thanking the old man effusively, and rushed upthe street clutching my treasure, while rattle-rattle went the bones ofits companion in my pocket. My father was just shaking hands with Mr.Lennox and turning round to look for me, when I ran up. Mr. Lennox, itappeared, was the gentleman who was to have driven home with us, butsomething had occurred to detain him in the town, and he was on his wayto explain this to my father when we met him.

  "My father was rather silent and grave on the way home; he seemed to haveforgotten that I had said anything to vex him; some magistrates' businesshad worried him, and it was that that he had been talking about to Mr.Lennox. He said to me that he was half afraid he would have to drive intothe town again the next day, adding, 'It is a pity Lennox did not know intime. By staying a little later, we might have got all done.'

  "To his astonishment I replied by begging him to let me come with himagain the next day. He said to me, 'Why, Nelly, you were just now sayingyou did not care for going to see your grandmother, that it was dull, andtired you. What queer creatures children are.'

  "I felt my cheeks grow hot, but I replied that I was sorry I had saidthat, and that I did want very much to go to see my grandmother again. Ofcourse you will understand, children, that I was thinking about the bestchance of putting back the cup, or rather its substitute, but my dearfather thought I was sorry for having vexed him, and that I wanted toplease him by asking to go again, so he readily granted my request. ButI felt far from happy that evening at home, when something was said aboutmy wanting to go again, and one of my brothers remarking that I mustsurely have enjoyed myself very greatly at my grandmother's, my fatherand mother looked at me kindly and said that their little Nelly liked toplease others as well as herself. Oh how guilty I felt! I hated havinganything to conceal, for I was by nature very frank. And oh, what atorment the poor cup and saucer were! I got rid of the bits by throwingthem behind a hedge, but I could not tell where to hide my purchase, andI was so terribly afraid of breaking it. It was a relief to my mind thenext morning when it suddenly struck me that I need not take the saucertoo, the cup was enough, as the original saucer was there intact, andthe cup was much easier to carry by itself.

  "When we got to the town my father let me down at my grandmother'swithout coming in himself at all, and went off at once to his business.The door was open, and I saw no one about. I made my way up to thedrawing-room as quickly and quietly as possible; to my great satisfactionthere was no one there. I stole across the room to the china cupboard,drew forward a chair and climbed upon it, and, in mortal fear andtrembling, placed the cup on the saucer waiting for it. They seemed tomatch exactly, but I could not wait to see any more--the sound of someone coming along the ante-room reached my ears--I had only just time toclose the door of the cupboard, jump down and try to look as if nothingwere the matter, when my grandmother entered the room. She came up to mewith both her hands out-stretched in welcome, and a look on her face thatI did not understand. She kissed me fondly, exclaiming,

  "'My own dear little Nelly. I thought you would come. I knew you wouldnot be happy till you had----.' But she stopped suddenly. I had drawn alittle back from her, and again I felt my face get red. Why would peoplepraise me when I did not deserve it? My grandmother, I supposed, thoughtI had come again because I had felt conscious of having been notparticularly gracious the day before--whereas I knew my motive to havebeen nothing of the kind.

  "'Papa was coming again, and he said I might come. I have nothing to doat home just now. It's holidays,' I said abruptly, my very honesty _now_leading me into misrepresentations, as is constantly the case once onehas quitted the quite straight path of candour.

  "My grandmother looked pained and disappointed, but said nothing. But_never_ had she been kinder. It was past dinner time, but she ordered teafor me an hour earlier than her usual time, and sent down word that thecook was to bake some girdle-cakes, as she knew I was fond of them. Andwhat a nice tea we might have had but for the uncomfortable little voicethat kept whispering to me that I did not deserve all this kindness, thatI was deceiving my grandmother, which was far worse than breaking twentycups. I felt quite provoked with myself for feeling so uneasy. I hadthought I should have felt quite comfortable and happy once the cup wasrestored. I had spent all, or very nearly all, my money on it. I said tomyself, Who could have done more? And I determined not to be so silly andto think no more about it--but it was no good. Every time my grandmotherlooked at me, every time she spoke to me--worst of all when the time camefor me to go and she kissed me, somehow so much more tenderly than usual,and murmured some words I could not catch, but which sounded like alittle prayer, as she stroked my head in farewell--it was dreadfully hardnot to burst into tears and tell her
all, and beg her to forgive me. ButI went away without doing so.

  "Half way home a strange thought came suddenly into my mind. It seemed toexpress the unhappiness I was feeling. Supposing my grandmother were todie, supposing I were never to see her again, would I _then_ feelsatisfied with my behaviour to her, and would I still say to myself thatI had done all for the best in spending my money on a new cup? WouldI not then rather feel that it would have been less grievous to mygrandmother to know of my breaking twenty cups, than to discover theconcealment and want of candour into which my cowardliness had led me?

  "'If grandmother were _dead_, I suppose she would know all about it,' Isaid to myself. 'I would not like to think of that. I would rather havetold her myself.'

  "And I startled my father by turning to him suddenly and asking ifgrandmother was very old. He replied, 'Not so very. Of course she is not_young_, but we may hope to have her among us many a day yet if God willsit, my little woman.'

  "I gave a sigh of relief. 'I know she is very strong,' I said. 'She isvery seldom ill, and she can take quite long walks still.'

  "Thank God for it,' said my father, evidently pleased with my interest inmy grandmother. And although it was true that already I was beginning tolove her much more than formerly, still my father's manner gave me againthe miserable feeling that I was gaining credit which I did not deserve.

  "More than a week passed after this without my seeing my grandmother. Itwas not a happy week for me. I felt quite unlike my old light-heartedself. And constantly--just as when one has a tender spot anywhere, a sorefinger for instance, everything seems to rub against it--constantlylittle allusions were made which appeared to have some reference to myconcealment. Something would be said about my birthday present, and mybrothers would ask me if I had made up my mind what I should buy with it,or they would tease me about my sudden fancy for spending two daystogether with my grandmother, and ask me if I was not in a hurry to goto see her again. I grew irritable and suspicious, and more and moreunhappy, and before long those about me began to notice the change. Myfather and mother feared I was ill--'Nelly is so unlike herself,' I heardthem say. My brothers openly declared 'there was no fun in playing withme now, I had grown so cross.' I felt that it was true--indeed bothopinions were true, for I really _was_ getting ill with the weight on mymind, which never, night or day, seemed to leave it.

  "At last one day my father told me that he was going to drive into thelittle town where my grandmother lived, the next day, and that I was togo with him to see her. I noticed that he did not ask me, as usual, if Iwould like to go; he just said I must be ready by a certain hour, andgave me no choice in the matter. I did not want to go, but I was afraidof making any objection for fear of their asking my reasons, so I saidnothing, but silently, and to all appearance I fear, sulkily, got readyas my father desired. We had a very quiet drive; my father made noremarks about my dullness and silence, and I began to be afraid thatsomething had been found out, and that he was taking me to mygrandmother's to be 'scolded,' as I called it in my silly little mind.I glanced up at his face as I sat beside him. No, he did not look severe,only grave and rather anxious. Dear father! Afterwards I found that heand my mother had been really _very_ anxious about me, and that he wastaking me to my grandmother, by her express wish, to see what she thoughtof the state of matters, before consulting a doctor or trying change ofair, or anything of that kind. And my grandmother had particularly askedhim to say nothing more to myself about my own unsatisfactory condition,and had promised him to do her utmost to put things right.

  "Well--we got to my grandmother's--my father lifted me out of thecarriage, and I followed him upstairs--my grandmother was sitting in thedrawing-room, evidently expecting us. She came forward with a bright kindsmile on her face, and kissed me fondly. Then she said to my father shewas so glad he had brought me, and she hoped I would have a happy day.And my father looked at me as he went away with a sort of wistful anxietythat made me again have that horrible feeling of not deserving his careand affection. And oh, how I wished the long day alone with mygrandmother were over! I could not bear being in the drawing-room, Iwas afraid of seeming to glance in the direction of the china cupboard;I felt miserable whenever my grandmother spoke kindly to me.

  "And how kind she was that day! If ever a little girl _should_ have beenhappy, that little girl was I. Grandmother let me look over the drawerswhere she kept her beautiful scraps of silk and velvet, ever so many ofwhich she gave me--lovely pieces to make a costume such as I had fanciedfor Lady Rosabelle, but which I had never had the heart to see about.She let me 'tidy' her best work-box--a _wonderful_ box, full of everyconceivable treasure and curiosity--and then, when I was a little tiredwith all my exertions, she made me sit down on a footstool at her feetand talked to me so nicely--all about when _she_ was a little girl--fancythat, Molly, your great-great-grandmother ever having been a littlegirl!--and about the queer legends and fairy tales that in those dayswere firmly believed in in the far-away Scotch country place where herchildhood was spent. For the first time for all these unhappy ten days,I began to feel like myself again. Sitting there at my grandmother's feetlistening to her I actually forgot my troubles, though I was in the verydrawing-room I had learnt so to dread, within a few yards of the cupboardI dared not even glance at.

  "There came a little pause in the conversation; I leaned my head againstmy grandmother's knee.

  "'I wish there were fairies now,' I said. 'Don't you, grandmother?'

  "Grandmother said 'no, on the whole she preferred things being as theywere.' There were _some_ fairies certainly she would be sorry to lose,Princess Sweet-temper, and Lady Make-the-best-of-it, and old Madame Tidy,and, most of all perhaps, the beautiful fairy _Candour_. I laughed at herfunny way of saying things, but yet something in her last words made theuneasy feeling come back again. Then my grandmother went on talking in adifferent tone.

  "'Do you know, Nelly,' she said, 'queer things happen sometimes that onewould be half inclined to put down to fairies if one did not knowbetter?'

  "I pricked up my ears.

  "'Do tell me what sort of things, grandmother,' I said eagerly.

  "'Well'--she went on, speaking rather slowly and gravely, and verydistinctly--'the other day an extraordinary thing happened among my chinacups in that cupboard over there. I had one pink cup, on the side ofwhich was--or is--the picture of a shepherdess curtseying to a shepherd.Now this shepherdess when I bought the cup, which was only a few daysago, was dressed--I am _perfectly_ certain of it, for her dress was justthe same as one I have upstairs in my collection--in a pale pink orsalmon-coloured skirt, looped up over a pea-green slip--the picture ofthe shepherdess is repeated again on the saucer, and there it still is asI tell you. But the strangest metamorphosis has taken place in the cup. Ileft it one morning as I describe, for you know I always dust my bestchina myself. Two days after, when I looked at it again, theshepherdess's attire was changed--she had on no longer the pea-greendress over the salmon, but a _salmon_ dress over a _pea-green_ slip. Didyou ever hear anything so strange, Nelly?'

  "I turned away my head, children; I dared not look at my grandmother.What should I say? This was the end of my concealment. It had done _no_good--grandmother must know it all now, I could hide it no longer, andshe would be far, far more angry than if at the first I had bravelyconfessed my disobedience and its consequences. I tried to speak, butI could not. I burst into tears and hid my face.

  "Grandmother's arm was round me in a moment, and her kind voice saying,'Why, what is the matter, my little Nelly?'

  "I drew myself away from her, and threw myself on the floor, crying outto grandmother not to speak kindly to me.

  "'You won't love me when you know,' I said. 'You will never love meagain. It was _me_, oh grandmother! It was me that changed the cup.I got another for you not to know. I spent all my money. I broke it,grandmother. When you told me not to open the cupboard, I did open it,and I took out the cup, and it fell and was broken, and then I sawanother in a shop window, and
I thought it was just the same, and Ibought it. It cost ten shillings, but I never knew it wasn't quite thesame, only now it doesn't matter. You will never love me again, andnobody will. Oh dear, oh dear, what _shall_ I do?'

  "'Never love you again, my poor dear faithless little girl,' saidgrandmother. 'Oh, Nelly, my child, how little you know me! But oh, I amso glad you have told me all about it yourself. That was what I waslonging for. I did so want my little girl to be true to her own honestheart.'

  "And then she went on to explain that she had known it all from thefirst. She had not been asleep the day that I disobediently opened thecupboard, at least she had wakened up in time to see what had happened,and she had earnestly hoped that I would make up my mind to tell itfrankly. That was what had so disappointed her the next day when she hadquite thought I had come on purpose to tell it all. Then when my fatherhad come to consult her about the queer state I seemed to be in, she hadnot felt surprised. She had quite understood it all, though she had notsaid so to him, and she had resolved to try to win my confidence. Shetold me too that she had found out from the old German about my buyingthe cup, whose reappearance she could not at first explain.

  "'I went to his shop the very next morning,' she told me, 'to see if hestill had the fellow to the cup I had bought, as I knew he had two ofthem, and he told me the other had been bought by a little girl. Tenshillings was too much to give for it, Nelly, a great deal too much foryou to give, and more than the cup was really worth. It was not a veryvaluable cup, though the colour was so pretty that I was tempted to buyit to place among the others.'

  "'I don't mind about the money, grandmother,' I replied. 'I would havegiven ever so much more if I had had it. You will keep the cup now?' Iadded. 'You won't make me take it back to the old man? And oh,grandmother, will you really forgive me?'

  "She told me she had already done so, fully and freely, from the bottomof her heart. And she said she would indeed keep the cup, as long as shelived, and that if ever again I was tempted to distrust her I must lookat it and take courage. And she explained to me that even if there hadbeen reason for my fears, 'even if I had been a very harsh and severegrandmother, your concealment would have done no good in the end,' shesaid. 'It would have been like the first little tiny seed of deceit,which might have grown into a great tree of evil, poisoning all yourlife. Oh, Nelly, never _never_ plant that seed, for once it has takenroot who can say how difficult it may be to tear it up?'

  "I listened with all my attention; I could not help being deeplyimpressed with her earnestness, and I was so grateful for her kindnessthat her advice found good soil ready to receive it. And how many, manytimes in my life have I not recalled it! For, Ralph and Sylvia and Molly,my darlings, remember this--even to the naturally frank and honest therecome times of sore temptation in life, times when a little swerving fromthe straight narrow path of uprightness would seem to promise to put allstraight when things have gone wrong, times when the cost seems so littleand the gain so great. Ah! yes, children, we need to have a firm anchorto hold by at these times, and woe for us then if the little evil seedhas been planted and has taken root in our hearts."

  Grandmother paused. The children too were silent for a moment or two.Then Sylvia said gently,

  "Did you tell your father and mother all about it, grandmother?"

  "Yes," said grandmother, "I did--all about it. I told them everything. Itwas my own choice. My grandmother left it to myself. She would not tellthem; she would leave it to me. And, of course, I did tell them. I couldnot feel happy till I had done so. They were very kind about it, _very_kind, but still it was to my grandmother I felt the most grateful and themost drawn. From that time till her death, when I was nearly grown up,she was my dearest counsellor and guide. I had no concealment from her--Itold her everything. For her heart was so wonderfully young; to the verylast she was able to sympathise in all my girlish joys, and sorrows, anddifficulties."

  "Like you, grandmother dear," said Molly, softly stroking hergrandmother's hand, which she had taken in hers. "She must have been justlike you."

  They all smiled.

  "And when she died," pursued grandmother gently, almost as if speaking toherself, "when she died and all her things were divided, I begged them togive me the pink cup. I might have had a more valuable one instead, but Ipreferred it. It is one of those two over there on the little cabinet."

  Molly's eyes turned eagerly in the direction of the little cabinet."Grandmother dear," she said, solemnly, "when you die--I don't _want_ youto die, you know of course, but when you _do_ die, I wish you would saythat _I_ may have that cup--will you? To remind me, you know, of what youhave been telling us. I quite understand how you mean: that day all mybrooches were broken, I did awfully want not to tell you about them all,and I might forget, you see, about the little bad seed and all that, thatyou have been telling us so nicely. Please, grandmother dear, _may_ Ihave that cup when you die?"

  "Molly," said Sylvia, her face growing very red, "it is perfectlyhorrible of you to talk that way. I am quite ashamed of you. Don't mindher, grandmother. She just talks as if she had no sense sometimes. How_can_ you, Molly?" she went on, turning again to her sister, "how _can_you talk about dear grandmother dying? _Dear_ grandmother, and youpretend to love her."

  Molly's big blue eyes opened wide with astonishment, then gradually theygrew misty, and great tears welled up to their surface.

  "I don't _pretend_--I _do_ love her," she said. "And I don't _want_ youto die, grandmother dear, do I? only we all must die some time. I didn'tmean to talk horribly. I think you are very unkind, Sylvia."

  "Children, children," said grandmother's gentle voice, "I don't likethese words. I am sure Molly did not mean anything I would not like,Sylvia dear, but yet I know how _you_ mean. Don't be in such a hurry tojudge each other. And about the cup, Molly, I'll consider, though I hopeand believe you will not need it to remind you of the lesson I want toimpress on you by the story of my long-ago troubles. Now kiss each other,dears, and kiss me, for it is quite bed-time. Good-night, my littlegirls. Ralph, my boy, open the door for your sisters, and pleasant dreamsto you all."