A Modern Cinderella by Amanda Minnie Douglas (good short books .txt) π
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- Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas
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thought she'd have to give up t' other side of the house."
"Be careful," cautioned Maggie, with a slight turn of the head.
Marilla ate her cream, and it really tasted good. Then she rose and said good-night in a quiet fashion.
"Katie, you must remember about little pitchers," cautioned some one.
"Well--that's a nice little girl and I don't believe she'd carry tales. Ellen said she wouldn't take care of those babies for ten dollars a week. And what's this child ever going to do----"
"Mr. Borden is a nice kind of a man and when he's around that Jack behaves like a little gentleman, and the ladies do very well; they're pleasant and don't put on airs. But what they'll do with those twins----"
"Well, they won't always be getting teeth. It's a hard time with babies."
And so they gossiped while they washed dishes and set the kitchen in order for morning. If they had ever been Cinderella they had forgotten about it.
CHAPTER VIII
A NEW GLIMPSE OF SERVITUDE
Marilla wandered about a little. The stars were coming out and afar off the wood robin was singing his low sweet song. The dew was scattering the fragrance of flower and shrub and she drew in long breaths of it that seemed to revive her. Was Miss Armitage sitting at the organ and evoking the music that stirred one's very being and made you wish unutterable things? And would Dr. Richards go to comfort some poor patient tomorrow?
Then she went to her new home. Miss Florence sat alone on the porch. The babies were soundly asleep.
"Did you have a nice dinner?" she asked. "And I suppose you are very tired. Will you sit here awhile or would you rather go to bed?"
"Yes, I would like to go to bed," she answered, wearily.
They went through the place they were using for a sort of kitchen and up a narrow stairway. Only part of the room had a fair ceiling, the rest slanted down to some narrow windows. There was a cot, an old fashioned wash stand and a sort of closet. Their packing trunks were up here.
"Mr. Borden had taken the other part the house first. There is more room and it is rather nicer. But the woman who had taken this wanted so to exchange and made an offer in the rent and they do charge scandalously for these summer places. And when you're not keeping house it doesn't matter so much. It saves lots of trouble. They just give meals over there and they are first rate. I put your clothes that we brought in that closet. It was very nice in Miss Armitage to get you some others and she wouldn't let Mr. Borden pay for them. I want to hear all about her tomorrow. You won't feel afraid, will you?"
"Oh no," was the reply. It didn't seem to matter much what happened to her now.
"Good-night, then, I hope you will sleep well."
"Good-night," steadying her tone.
She thought she wouldn't sleep at all, but her poor little body was so tired out that exhausted nature demanded rest. And she was awakened in the morning with the singing of some birds, and a beautiful poem floated through her mind. She would not count any Sundays until September came in.
Mrs. Borden called her and she replied, dressing quickly and going down stairs.
"Oh, you look quite rested," said the lady. "I'll give the babies their bath and dress them and then you will give them their breakfast and keep them out on the porch while we go for ours. They take only one nap now, sleeping from eleven until about two. They just have bread and milk. There's a woman here who says I am ruining their health with that, because it makes them fat, but they were fed when they had only milk. Then they have some oatmeal, jelly and a soft boiled egg when they wake up. There's nothing like system; you know just what to do. Now you go over to the kitchen and get a bottle of milk. The babies drink that, too. Then I'll show you how to light up the stove. It's the handiest little thing. I couldn't manage without it."
Marilla had a pleasant greeting from Katie who declared, "she looked ten per cent better and hoped she would have a good appetite for her breakfast as she didn't eat enough to keep a bird alive last night."
The babies were pretty good natured, as well.
"You know they always were real sweet," said their mother, "and so easily amused. I hope you haven't forgotten your knack of story telling; and how they used to laugh! That Ellen was the stupidest thing."
While she was feeding the babies, the grown folks went over to their breakfast. The kitchen and the servants' table was in much better order, and there were some delightful muffins and fresh fish and muskmelons. The babies played about; Jack's father took him out for a walk, then there was a long quiet time at the luncheon hour, and the babies were fed again.
"I succeeded in getting a two-seat carriage, so we will all go out this afternoon," said Mr. Borden. "They say Braun is a queer Hungarian settlement and on Sunday the people are all out in their best. We'll take a look at it."
"_Can_ we all go?"
"Why Florence said she wouldn't mind caring for one baby, and Marilla can take the other."
The two nurses had the back seat, Florence made Marilla put her baby between them on the seat. "We'll change off when I get tired of holding mine," she said.
They went straight over to the Sound--the upper end of the great South Bay. Oh how splendid it was! Marilla almost held her breath with surprise, then they drove up the road a short distance, but she hated to leave the glorious views. Pansy dropped in her lap and went to sleep. As they turned they passed through one of the magnificent residential settlements, then to the odd Hungarian town where a foreign Sunday was in full life and vivacity.
Little tables were standing around, some filled with families, some having a couple of lovers; other parties were walking up and down; all in picturesque holiday attire. The tables were set out with small, hard brown cakes, slices of bread that each had brought to the feast. There was beer of course, merrymaking and jollity--but no one seemed to overstep the bounds. Children ran around, grotesque copies of their elders. Rows of cottages and gardens, great corn and hayfields, stubble where cattle were browsing, enclosures of fattening pigs whose squealing had a mirthful sound.
"It is well worth looking at," said Mr. Borden. "A bit of Europe on one of our islands and really a lesson to our own thriftless poor."
Violet chattered in a funny fashion, but Pansy slept through it all. Marilla tried several times to shift her position, but the little form was too heavy to stir. Yet it was delightful, though she kept thinking of last Sunday and Dr. Richards.
Mr. Borden stopped at the gate and helped them out.
"Lift Pansy, she's asleep," said Aunt Florence.
"Oh, Marilla, why didn't you keep her awake! I've been trying not to let them sleep in the afternoon so they would go to bed the earlier."
"Just as you get a baby in good habits, someone comes along and spoils it all," exclaimed Mrs. Borden in a vexed tone. She was a little tired, having answered at least fifty questions for Jack.
But Pansy woke when her father stood her down, and said, rather drowsily--"Nice horsey;" and sat squarely down in the path. Aunt Florence picked her up and led her to the porch.
"Now, Marilla, get their suppers ready and feed them. And put away their things. I can't bear to see them lying round on chairs."
Mr. Borden drove off, taking Jack.
"Ont bedy-milk," announced Violet.
"Yes, yes; go to Marilla."
The child had laid the caps in the drawer and hung up the coats. Both children came out and clamored for supper and pulled on her skirt until they almost tipped her over.
Then the great bell clanged for the boarders' supper. They had dinner at noon on Sundays. Mr. Borden returned and escorted the ladies over. This was always a rather chatty, long-drawn-out meal.
Marilla fed the babies, washed and put away her few dishes, then took the children out on the porch. Violet wanted to be "wocked," so she sat beside her in the big porch chair. Pansy ran up and down uttering queer unmusical noises. The piano in the other part of the house was accompanying a singer.
The mistress of that part leaned out of the window and said in a sharp tone--"Can't you keep that child still? She's an awful nuisance."
"Let us go indoors," said Marilla. "Come, and I'll tell you a story about a bunny that got lost away from all his folks."
But Pansy had no mind to come. She screamed when Marilla took hold of her arm and then kicked, jerking away, she rolled down the three steps, landing on the grass. Marilla, frightened, picked her up in her arms and ran through the hall with her. The suddenness had really taken the breath out of the little body for a moment, then she looked rather wildly at her rescuer.
"It didn't hurt you much and you were a naughty baby to run away! Don't cry any more and you shall have----" she cast about to see what solace there was--"oh, you shall have some sugar--see--" and she offered her some in a spoon.
Pansy laughed and reached out for the sugar, quite restored to good humor.
"Now, I'll go out and get sister and you shall have some more sugar."
Violet came in quite willingly. She sat on the floor with them and thought of the stories she used to tell. This one was about a runaway squirrel. It grew dark and he was afraid, for he heard a queer noise that kept saying, "Who--who," so he ran another way. Then a dog barked, and Marilla made the sound of a dog and both babies laughed delightedly. "So he ran as fast as he could but the dog ran, too, and the squirrel climbed up in a tree," and Marilla climbed with her hands on the back of the chair in a funny fashion. "'Come down,' said the dog. 'I won't,' said the squirrel. 'Then I'll climb up and eat you.' But the squirrel laughed and said: 'You can't climb a tree.'"
The babies laughed, too, but Violet wanted to be "wocked" again. She really was sleepy. So Marilla put them both in the rocking chair and began another story about a bird who had three little babies in a nest and had to go out and get them something to eat. The ladies came back and Violet began to nod and let her eyes droop.
"They must go to bed," said their mother.
It was supposed that Pansy would make a protest. She slipped down out of the chair and held out her fat little hand, murmuring--"Illa, Illa."
"Well, Illa shall put you to bed, come Violet."
Mrs Borden found their nighties. "Me too," and Violet took hers over to Marilla.
"Now, isn't that cunning? Marilla they are getting back all their old love for you! But it is time I had a little rest."
"Be careful," cautioned Maggie, with a slight turn of the head.
Marilla ate her cream, and it really tasted good. Then she rose and said good-night in a quiet fashion.
"Katie, you must remember about little pitchers," cautioned some one.
"Well--that's a nice little girl and I don't believe she'd carry tales. Ellen said she wouldn't take care of those babies for ten dollars a week. And what's this child ever going to do----"
"Mr. Borden is a nice kind of a man and when he's around that Jack behaves like a little gentleman, and the ladies do very well; they're pleasant and don't put on airs. But what they'll do with those twins----"
"Well, they won't always be getting teeth. It's a hard time with babies."
And so they gossiped while they washed dishes and set the kitchen in order for morning. If they had ever been Cinderella they had forgotten about it.
CHAPTER VIII
A NEW GLIMPSE OF SERVITUDE
Marilla wandered about a little. The stars were coming out and afar off the wood robin was singing his low sweet song. The dew was scattering the fragrance of flower and shrub and she drew in long breaths of it that seemed to revive her. Was Miss Armitage sitting at the organ and evoking the music that stirred one's very being and made you wish unutterable things? And would Dr. Richards go to comfort some poor patient tomorrow?
Then she went to her new home. Miss Florence sat alone on the porch. The babies were soundly asleep.
"Did you have a nice dinner?" she asked. "And I suppose you are very tired. Will you sit here awhile or would you rather go to bed?"
"Yes, I would like to go to bed," she answered, wearily.
They went through the place they were using for a sort of kitchen and up a narrow stairway. Only part of the room had a fair ceiling, the rest slanted down to some narrow windows. There was a cot, an old fashioned wash stand and a sort of closet. Their packing trunks were up here.
"Mr. Borden had taken the other part the house first. There is more room and it is rather nicer. But the woman who had taken this wanted so to exchange and made an offer in the rent and they do charge scandalously for these summer places. And when you're not keeping house it doesn't matter so much. It saves lots of trouble. They just give meals over there and they are first rate. I put your clothes that we brought in that closet. It was very nice in Miss Armitage to get you some others and she wouldn't let Mr. Borden pay for them. I want to hear all about her tomorrow. You won't feel afraid, will you?"
"Oh no," was the reply. It didn't seem to matter much what happened to her now.
"Good-night, then, I hope you will sleep well."
"Good-night," steadying her tone.
She thought she wouldn't sleep at all, but her poor little body was so tired out that exhausted nature demanded rest. And she was awakened in the morning with the singing of some birds, and a beautiful poem floated through her mind. She would not count any Sundays until September came in.
Mrs. Borden called her and she replied, dressing quickly and going down stairs.
"Oh, you look quite rested," said the lady. "I'll give the babies their bath and dress them and then you will give them their breakfast and keep them out on the porch while we go for ours. They take only one nap now, sleeping from eleven until about two. They just have bread and milk. There's a woman here who says I am ruining their health with that, because it makes them fat, but they were fed when they had only milk. Then they have some oatmeal, jelly and a soft boiled egg when they wake up. There's nothing like system; you know just what to do. Now you go over to the kitchen and get a bottle of milk. The babies drink that, too. Then I'll show you how to light up the stove. It's the handiest little thing. I couldn't manage without it."
Marilla had a pleasant greeting from Katie who declared, "she looked ten per cent better and hoped she would have a good appetite for her breakfast as she didn't eat enough to keep a bird alive last night."
The babies were pretty good natured, as well.
"You know they always were real sweet," said their mother, "and so easily amused. I hope you haven't forgotten your knack of story telling; and how they used to laugh! That Ellen was the stupidest thing."
While she was feeding the babies, the grown folks went over to their breakfast. The kitchen and the servants' table was in much better order, and there were some delightful muffins and fresh fish and muskmelons. The babies played about; Jack's father took him out for a walk, then there was a long quiet time at the luncheon hour, and the babies were fed again.
"I succeeded in getting a two-seat carriage, so we will all go out this afternoon," said Mr. Borden. "They say Braun is a queer Hungarian settlement and on Sunday the people are all out in their best. We'll take a look at it."
"_Can_ we all go?"
"Why Florence said she wouldn't mind caring for one baby, and Marilla can take the other."
The two nurses had the back seat, Florence made Marilla put her baby between them on the seat. "We'll change off when I get tired of holding mine," she said.
They went straight over to the Sound--the upper end of the great South Bay. Oh how splendid it was! Marilla almost held her breath with surprise, then they drove up the road a short distance, but she hated to leave the glorious views. Pansy dropped in her lap and went to sleep. As they turned they passed through one of the magnificent residential settlements, then to the odd Hungarian town where a foreign Sunday was in full life and vivacity.
Little tables were standing around, some filled with families, some having a couple of lovers; other parties were walking up and down; all in picturesque holiday attire. The tables were set out with small, hard brown cakes, slices of bread that each had brought to the feast. There was beer of course, merrymaking and jollity--but no one seemed to overstep the bounds. Children ran around, grotesque copies of their elders. Rows of cottages and gardens, great corn and hayfields, stubble where cattle were browsing, enclosures of fattening pigs whose squealing had a mirthful sound.
"It is well worth looking at," said Mr. Borden. "A bit of Europe on one of our islands and really a lesson to our own thriftless poor."
Violet chattered in a funny fashion, but Pansy slept through it all. Marilla tried several times to shift her position, but the little form was too heavy to stir. Yet it was delightful, though she kept thinking of last Sunday and Dr. Richards.
Mr. Borden stopped at the gate and helped them out.
"Lift Pansy, she's asleep," said Aunt Florence.
"Oh, Marilla, why didn't you keep her awake! I've been trying not to let them sleep in the afternoon so they would go to bed the earlier."
"Just as you get a baby in good habits, someone comes along and spoils it all," exclaimed Mrs. Borden in a vexed tone. She was a little tired, having answered at least fifty questions for Jack.
But Pansy woke when her father stood her down, and said, rather drowsily--"Nice horsey;" and sat squarely down in the path. Aunt Florence picked her up and led her to the porch.
"Now, Marilla, get their suppers ready and feed them. And put away their things. I can't bear to see them lying round on chairs."
Mr. Borden drove off, taking Jack.
"Ont bedy-milk," announced Violet.
"Yes, yes; go to Marilla."
The child had laid the caps in the drawer and hung up the coats. Both children came out and clamored for supper and pulled on her skirt until they almost tipped her over.
Then the great bell clanged for the boarders' supper. They had dinner at noon on Sundays. Mr. Borden returned and escorted the ladies over. This was always a rather chatty, long-drawn-out meal.
Marilla fed the babies, washed and put away her few dishes, then took the children out on the porch. Violet wanted to be "wocked," so she sat beside her in the big porch chair. Pansy ran up and down uttering queer unmusical noises. The piano in the other part of the house was accompanying a singer.
The mistress of that part leaned out of the window and said in a sharp tone--"Can't you keep that child still? She's an awful nuisance."
"Let us go indoors," said Marilla. "Come, and I'll tell you a story about a bunny that got lost away from all his folks."
But Pansy had no mind to come. She screamed when Marilla took hold of her arm and then kicked, jerking away, she rolled down the three steps, landing on the grass. Marilla, frightened, picked her up in her arms and ran through the hall with her. The suddenness had really taken the breath out of the little body for a moment, then she looked rather wildly at her rescuer.
"It didn't hurt you much and you were a naughty baby to run away! Don't cry any more and you shall have----" she cast about to see what solace there was--"oh, you shall have some sugar--see--" and she offered her some in a spoon.
Pansy laughed and reached out for the sugar, quite restored to good humor.
"Now, I'll go out and get sister and you shall have some more sugar."
Violet came in quite willingly. She sat on the floor with them and thought of the stories she used to tell. This one was about a runaway squirrel. It grew dark and he was afraid, for he heard a queer noise that kept saying, "Who--who," so he ran another way. Then a dog barked, and Marilla made the sound of a dog and both babies laughed delightedly. "So he ran as fast as he could but the dog ran, too, and the squirrel climbed up in a tree," and Marilla climbed with her hands on the back of the chair in a funny fashion. "'Come down,' said the dog. 'I won't,' said the squirrel. 'Then I'll climb up and eat you.' But the squirrel laughed and said: 'You can't climb a tree.'"
The babies laughed, too, but Violet wanted to be "wocked" again. She really was sleepy. So Marilla put them both in the rocking chair and began another story about a bird who had three little babies in a nest and had to go out and get them something to eat. The ladies came back and Violet began to nod and let her eyes droop.
"They must go to bed," said their mother.
It was supposed that Pansy would make a protest. She slipped down out of the chair and held out her fat little hand, murmuring--"Illa, Illa."
"Well, Illa shall put you to bed, come Violet."
Mrs Borden found their nighties. "Me too," and Violet took hers over to Marilla.
"Now, isn't that cunning? Marilla they are getting back all their old love for you! But it is time I had a little rest."
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