Mrs. Moran presently opened it, and they saw Hitty sitting on a low stool, playing with the baby, who was cooing and crowing with delight at having her back again.

"I have come," said Mrs. Gray, "with my little niece, who injured your daughter at school. She wishes to ask you to forgive her."

Nelly was crying bitterly, so that she could scarcely speak; but at last she sobbed out, "I didn't mean to hurt her so. I'm very sorry."

"Don't cry, pet!" said Mrs. Moran, kindly. "I dare say you meant her no harm; and if you did, sure and we all are in the wrong sometimes. Hitty lays up nothing against you. There, honey, stop a bit, and she'll tell you the same. Come, Hitty, tell the little girl you forgive her, since the lady is so kind as to ask it."

Hitty came forward with Bobby still in her arms, and when Nelly held out her hand, shook it cordially, saying, "My head is almost well now, and by to-morrow I'll never think of the blow again. I'm sorry for you, Nelly, to see you crying so."

Mrs. Gray sat for a time talking with Mrs. Moran, and encouraging her to allow Hitty to learn to read. There was one little boy just Frankie's age, whom the lady advised her to send to the public school.

This, the poor woman said, she should be glad to do, if the lad had clothes.

The next day, when Hitty returned from school, Nelly, Frankie, and Ponto accompanied her, each of them carrying a bundle as large as they could lift, with dresses, jackets, and sacks, the children had outgrown.

Mrs. Moran hardly knew how to express her grat.i.tude, as she held up one article after another, and saw how nicely they would fit Ned or others among her children.

This lesson, though severe at the time, was never forgotten by Nelly.

After this no one was more eager than she to show kindness to Hitty, or more pleased when the poor girl succeeded in learning to read.

In the afternoon most of the scholars repeated a hymn which they had learned at home, or a few verses from the Bible. Nelly noticed that Hitty never repeated any, and one day asked her the reason.

"I haven't any books," answered the child, "and then I couldn't make out the hard words, you know."

Nelly looked thoughtful for a minute, and then jumped up and down in her glee. "Ask your mother to let you come to aunty's to-night, or else come early to school and stop there to-morrow," she cried, "and I will teach you one of my pretty songs."

Two days later, when Miss Grant said, "Now we will hear the hymns or verses," Hitty, with a timid air and a blushing face, took her stand on the floor. She cast a glance at Nelly, whose whole countenance was glowing with pleasure, and then repeated the following pretty hymn:--

"'Who was that, dear mamma, who ate Her breakfast here this morn?

With tangled hair and ragged shoes, And gown and ap.r.o.n torn?'

'They call her lazy Jane, my dear; She begs her bread all day, And gets a lodging in the barn, At night, among the hay.

'For when she was a little girl, She loved her play too well; At school she would not mind her book, Nor learn to read and spell.

'"Dear Jane," her mother oft would say, "Pray learn to work and read; Then you'll be able, when you're grown, To earn your clothes and bread."'

But lazy Jenny did not care; She'd neither knit nor sew; To romp with naughty girls and boys Was all that she would do.

So she grew up a very dunce; And when her parents died, She knew not how to teach a school, Nor work, if she had tried.

And now, an idle vagabond, She strolls about the streets; And not a friend can Jenny find In any one she meets.

And now, dear child, should you neglect Your book or work again, Or play, when you should be at school, Remember Lazy Jane."

CHAPTER VI.

FRANKIE AND THE CRIPPLE.

ONE evening, near the close of the term, Nelly walked home in company with one of her schoolmates, and did not notice that her cousin went another way. One, two hours pa.s.sed by, and Frankie did not make his appearance; and at last his mother became so anxious, that she sent his brother out to search for him.

Willie went to the square to see whether he had stopped at any of the stores, then, as he did not find him, to the houses of some of his schoolmates, but none of them had seen him since school.

"Where can he have gone?" said Willie to himself. "Perhaps he was at his teacher's, and has returned before this time."

He walked back toward home, looking around on every side.

He was pa.s.sing a house, when he heard a noise in the yard, and looking through the trees, saw a company of boys standing round a curious little carriage, in which sat a boy who was talking to them. He ran eagerly into the yard, for he thought Frankie was among them.

As he drew nearer, he found it was not a boy in the carriage, but a man without legs. He had met with a dreadful accident, and been obliged to have both his legs cut off; and now he was trying to support himself by selling pictures, rolling himself in his carriage from house to house by means of a crank wheel. This was very hard work for him, especially when he was going uphill; sometimes he was obliged to get boys to push behind.

Willie saw his brother Frankie standing by the man, helping him hold his pictures, which he was exhibiting to the lady at the window. Frankie's face was very red, and great drops of perspiration stood on his forehead and nose.

"Why haven't you been home?" asked Willie. "Mother is very anxious about you."

"O, Willie, see this poor man!" exclaimed Frankie. "I have been pushing his wagon for him ever since school. He says he is a cripple, and can't walk at all. I'm going to push his carriage home now, as soon as he has sold pictures here, and then ask mamma to give him some supper."

"Why, Frankie Gray," called out the lady at the window, "is that you?

Well, come and take this money, dear, to pay for three pictures."

When the carriage started, the boys all ran along; but none of them offered to a.s.sist in rolling it, except Willie and Frankie.

"You are tired," said Willie; "I'll push now." So Frankie took off his straw hat, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. His hair was wet through, and curled in small rings all over his head.

Mrs. Gray was looking anxiously from the window when they entered the avenue, and ran eagerly down to meet them.

"O, mamma!" cried Frankie; "I met a poor man. He has no legs, and can't walk at all. He has to wheel himself about in a little carriage, to get enough money to buy his food. It's very hard work, and so I waited to push it for him a little while. Was it naughty, mamma? Will you please to give him some supper?"

Mrs. Gray looked in her son's earnest, loving eyes, and all her displeasure against him vanished. She caught him to her heart, and kissed his cheek and lips. "Yes, my dear," she said, "you shall have the pleasure of giving him a good supper. But are you not hungry yourself?

It is long past tea time."

"I did not think any thing about it, mamma," said Frankie, "I was so sorry for the poor man. There, Willie has pushed his carriage up to the back door. I wonder how he can get out."

In a few minutes the poor cripple had walked on his knees to the table, where Jane had set him a bountiful meal. Frankie seemed to consider the man his especial charge, and Mrs. Gray drew Willie into the entry, where, through the door, they could see what pa.s.sed.

As soon as the food was before him, the cripple began to eat; and Frankie, who was seated opposite, so as to be ready to attend to his wants, gazed at him in great surprise. "Why!" said he, "you didn't pray to G.o.d."

I suppose the dear child had never before seen any one begin to eat without first asking a blessing. Even when he and Nelly were playing tea, one of them always shut their eyes, and solemnly asked G.o.d to bless the food.

The man stared at him and went on eating, while Mrs. Gray smiled as she peeped through the door, to see how serious the boy looked.

"Don't you love G.o.d?" asked Frankie.

"I dun know," said the man.