Neighbor Nelly Socks.

by Sarah L. Barrow.

NEIGHBOR NELLY.

IN THREE STORIES.

THE OLD BACHELOR'S STORY.

IN the city block where I live, there are just twenty-four houses on the other side of the street, and twenty-four on this side, six lamp posts, and eight ailanthus trees in green boxes. Oh, dear me, what a tiresome row! That's what I thought when I first came to lodge here; for, as I am an old bachelor, I don't want a whole house to myself; but now, when I sit at my window and look out at the street, I find no end of things to amuse and interest me; particularly when the gas is lighted of an evening, and I can see a little way into the parlors of the opposite neighbors. I suppose they know that an old bachelor like Josiah Oldbird can do no harm by looking on at their evening amus.e.m.e.nts; so they do not pull the blinds down if they chance to see me, sitting lonely at my window, and willing to accept such crumbs of their society and happiness as I can glean over the way.

First, then, is the family at No. 7, three maiden sisters and a bachelor brother. As I don't in the least know their names, I have dubbed them the Bluejays, because the three maiden sisters always wear blue merino gowns in winter, and blue muslin ones in summer; and because they are all so fond of singing that no family of birds could be more musical.

They have a pet poodle and a pet squirrel, too. The poodle is very fat, and his hair sticks out so much all over him, that he looks perpetually astonished, as if he had just seen a spook. He always stands on the window sill, when the sash is raised of an afternoon, and glares into the street until he sees the bachelor brother coming. Then he achieves a series of frantic yells and bounces, until somebody comes to open the door and lets him out, when he waddles to the front steps to meet his master, wagging his tail to that tremendous extent, that it looks like the shuttle of a steam power loom.

The squirrel is slim and sleek, and seems to enjoy life amazingly, he hops about so. When one of the Miss Bluejays takes him in her arms, he won't stay there, but gets away, and walks all over her head and shoulders; and at last runs down her back and disappears.

Then, at No. 11, a very fat gentleman lives with his fat and pretty wife, and round dumpling of a baby. As I don't know him either, I call him Mr. Fatty, and he seems to be a "good-natured giant." I saw a little boy actually stop short to stare at him the other day, when he was sitting out at his front door--he is such a regular roly-poly of a gentleman--but he only laughed good-temperedly, and never got vexed in the least. I don't advise you to try this with all fat gentlemen though; they might accidentally sit down on a chair--where you were--afterward, and that would be the last of you. This piece of advice, however, is a great secret between you and me!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

He is so glad to meet the fat baby when he comes home at night, that I can see him in the parlor first kissing it almost black and blue, and then tossing it up in the air until I feel as though its head must come b.u.mp against the ceiling, but it doesn't--and at last, carrying it off perched on his shoulder, and looking very much perturbed in its spirits.

But the pleasantest neighbors of all live exactly opposite, at No. 9.

They take tea every evening in the back parlor; and as the front window shades are up, and only the back room lighted, I can always see them at their cheerful meal. The rooms are furnished in winter with dark red velvet carpets and furniture; with red damask curtains and red velvet paper hangings. In summer they put up white curtains, and carpets and furniture have cool, cream-colored linen coverings, so that the parlors look cozy and charming at all seasons.

As for the family there is a papa and mamma, of course, and a dear little girl and boy. The little girl is about ten years old, I should think, with great, dark-blue eyes, and curling auburn hair. Her cheeks are as rosy as ripe peaches, and her teeth as white as so many pearls.

Her nose does turn up at the end a little, to be sure; but that is rather saucy and becoming than otherwise; and she always looks so sweet tempered, and full of fun, too, when I see her of an evening, that I am sure she is as good as pie, and as merry as a cricket! Her little brother, who is a year or two younger, looks very much like her, and their obedient and pretty behavior at table is something really beautiful to observe.

It is nearly a year now, since I moved into my lodging at "No. 10," and began to wonder what No. 9's name was; and now I must make haste and tell you how, only last June, I became acquainted with these dear little neighbors of mine.

One pleasant Friday morning, after breakfast, I put on my old-fashioned beaver hat, and taking my gold-headed cane in one hand and my market basket in the other, I trotted out to buy something nice for dinner; for, you see, I am a particular old bachelor, and like to market for myself.

Just as I was coming down the steps, the door of No. 9 opened, and the little girl ran down _her_ steps. She looked so bright and pretty in her cunning round straw hat with the blue ribbons, and white Ma.r.s.eilles cloak, carrying her satchel of books and lunch basket in her hand, that I could not help nodding to her. So she nodded to me, and then _I_ nodded again and smiled, and we each walked along on our own side of the way. When we came to the corner I thought I would cross over and sc.r.a.pe some more acquaintance with my little neighbor. Now on the side of her satchel, I saw, when I came near her, was printed in gold letters, "Nelly Lawson;" so I said, as cheerily as I could, in my old, quavering voice:

"Good morning, Neighbor Nelly!"

The little maiden looked up in my face in a shy fashion at first; but when she saw what a mild, gray-headed old bachelor had bade her good morning, she took courage, and answered, "Good morning, sir."

"So you are going to school this fine day?"

"Yes; I go to school, but brother Jimmy doesn't; he learns at home. I think he is going next year. Have you got a baby at your house? We have."

"No," said I, sighing; "I haven't got any baby; I am an old bachelor.

Will you marry me?"

"Oh, I am too little," she replied quite seriously. "You will have to wait until I grow up to you."

I laughed, and asked her, "Don't you want to go to market with me before you go to school? There is plenty of time."

"No," replied my little neighbor, firmly; "I can't go anywheres that mamma does not know of."

"That's right!" I said. "Don't do anything your mother would disapprove.

Well, Neighbor Nelly, since you won't go to market with me, I must go to school with you; and tell your mother that Neighbor Josiah Oldbird would like you to take a walk with him to-morrow; will you?"

"Oh yes! that would be real nice!" said my little neighbor with a joyous skip.

By this time we were walking along hand in hand; and soon, seeing my little neighbor look in at the window of the candy shop round the corner from our street, I thought I would take her in and buy her some candy.

So in we marched, Nelly's great blue eyes dancing with pleased expectation, and stood close by the counter, waiting for our turn to come. There were a good many people in the candy shop, and we had to wait some time; so, to amuse ourselves, Neighbor Nelly and I turned round, and began looking at the funny folks near us.

There was one very fat old country woman, who seemed to be buying "quarter or pound," as she said, of every kind of candy in the shop. As soon as the papers were handed to her she began eating out of them, and before she left, I should think, she had eaten about two pounds of candy. Besides the old woman, there were a great many little children, who only wanted a penny's worth each; but they hesitated so long whether to have "taffie" or "mola.s.ses," a lemon-candy horse, or a cinnamon-candy trumpet, that they were the most troublesome customers of anybody. Then there were several older boys and girls; some, I am sorry to say, picking up a loose bit of candy every time the shopman turned away--as if that were not stealing; and finally, there was Neighbor Nelly and I, who did none of these things, but just looked on, and waited until the shopman came to serve us.

I bought some lemon candy, as clear as a bit of yellow gla.s.s, and some pungent cinnamon, and delectable chocolate; and then I popped the papers into Neighbor Nelly's satchel, and we hurried on to school. We had not far to go now, and when we came to the house, my little new friend bid me good-by, and thanked me so sweetly, that I went away quite a happy old bachelor.

In the evening I was looking out of my window as usual, when I saw the servant girl come in to light the gas in the back parlor at No. 9, with Neighbor Nelly and the little brother Jimmy behind her. While she was setting the tea table, the children came running to the window, and both nodded and smiled at me. Presently the little boy thrust both hands in his pockets, and held them up crammed full of candy. "Thank you, Mr. Old Bachelor!" he shouted; "we like you real well!"

That made me real happy; for I am not a crabbed old bachelor by any means. In a minute more their father came home; and as they all sat around the pleasant tea table, I hope they talked of their lonely old neighbor, who watched them from his window.

The next morning, as I was reading the paper, in came the servant and gave me the funniest little note! It was addressed on the outside, "To my neighbor Oldbird," and ran thus:

"MY DEAR NEIGHBOR:

"Mamma says I may take a walk with you this morning, because you are a good old bachelor.

Jimmy wants to go, and Gipsey. Gipsey is my dog.

He is black and tan, and his tail curls round so, that papa says you might use it for a cork-screw.

Jimmy and I mean to try some time. Gipsey likes to be on the seash.o.r.e, and so does baby. We are going there next week--to Long Branch. I hope you will write me a letter when I am gone, and I am Your affectionate "NEIGHBOR NELLY.

"Sat.u.r.day Morning."

You may believe how pleased I was with this dear little note, and I thought I would answer it. So I sat down at my writing desk, found a cunning little sheet of paper, with a flag on it, and commenced.

Now I happened to think, at that moment, of some very comical letters written by the great poet, Tom Hood, to his little friends on the seash.o.r.e; and as they were ever so much funnier than anything I could have written, I copied one of them out, and sent it to my little new friend.

"MY DEAR NEIGHBOR NELLY:

"I am very glad you are to walk with me, and very sorry you are going away so soon. Do you like to be on the seash.o.r.e? I did, when I was a boy. I and my brother chucked hundreds of stones into the sea, when we were there, but we came away before we could fill it up. Then there is the fun of finding shiny pebbles and jelly fish on the beach.

I used to think jelly fish were made of sea-calves' feet, and no flavoring. I suppose the mermaids eat them at their parties.

"Then there's fishing on the seaside. I used to catch flat fish sometimes, with a long string line, it was like swimming a kite. If you go out in a surf boat, take care it does not "flounder"

and get "squamped," as some people say, instead of founder and swamped.

"Have you ever been bathed in the sea? I was, and, dear me! how I kicked and screamed; or, at least, tried to scream, but the sea, ships and all, began to run into my mouth, and so I shut it up. Remember, when you are bathing, if you meet with a shark, the best way is to bite off his legs, if you can, before he walks away with yours; and pray, pray, pray take care of yourself in the sea, for in some places, they say, it has not even a bottom to go to.

"Could you bring me a little crab off the beach?

If you would catch one for me, and teach it to shake hands without nipping and biting, it would make me quite happy, for I have not had any toys or playthings in a long time. It would be a good plan to hire a little crab to teach the baby to crawl, if he can't walk yet. Bless him! But I must not write on him any more; he is so soft, and I have nothing but steel pens.

"Now good-by; give my love to everybody, and my compliments to all the rest, and believe me, up hill and down dale,