A Little Girl in Old New York by Amanda Minnie Douglas (reading diary TXT) 📕

to doing something. Here were girls earning five or six dollars a week, and her father's wages were so small it was a pinch all the time.

"I'm sure I make all our dresses and sew for father, and do lots of housework," replied Chris, half-crying.

There were people even then who considered it more genteel not to work out of the house. And since servants were not generally kept, a daughter's assistance was needed in the household.

And to crown the little girl's troubles her dear mayor was retired to private life and a Democrat ruled in his stead.

But there were the new discoveries to talk about, and the reduction of postage due to the old administration. Now you could send a letter three hundred miles for five cents. Hanny wrote several times a year to her grandmother Underhill, so this interested her. At the end of the century we are clamoring for penny postage, and our delivery is free. Then they had to pay the carrier.

The electro-magnetic telegraph was coming in for its share of attention. Scientific people were dropping into the old University of New York, where Mr. Morse was working it. The city had been connected with Washington. There were people who believed "there was a humbugging fellow at both ends," and that the scheme couldn't be made to work. It was cumbersome compared to modern methods. And Professor John W. Draper took the first daguerreotype from the roof of that famous building. That was the greatest wonder of the day. What was more remarkable, a picture or portrait could be copied in a few moments. Then there was a hint of war with Mexico, and the Oregon question was looming up with its cabalistic figures of "54, 40, or fight." Indeed, it seemed as if war was in the air.

Children too had trials, especially John Robert Charles. He had been allowed to go to Allen Street Sunday-school with the Dean children, and he went over on Saturday afternoon to study the lesson. Hanny used to come in, and occasionally they had a little tea. They played in the yard and the wide back area. The boys did tease him; the target was too good to miss. Hanny sympathized with him, for he was so nice and pleasant. They couldn't decide just what name to call him. Bob did well enough for the boys, but it was a little too rough for girls.

His mother still made him put on a long, checked pinafore to come to meals. His father used a white napkin. And he did wipe dishes for her, and help with the vegetables on Saturday. He could spread up a bed as neatly as a girl, but he kept these accomplishments to himself.

There was another excitement among the small people. Mr. Bradbury, who for years was destined to be the children's delight, was teaching singing classes and giving concerts with his best pupils. Mrs. Dean decided to let the girls go to the four o'clock class. Hanny would join them. They could study the Sunday lesson before or afterward.

"If I only could go," sighed the boy. The tears came into his eyes.

"And you can sing just lovely!" declared Tudie.

Josie stood up with a warmly flushing face.

"I do believe I'd raise an insurrection. It isn't as if you wanted to do anything wicked, like swearing or stealing. And my father said God gave beautiful voices to people to sing with."

"But if I asked mother she wouldn't let me go. And--I couldn't run away. You see that would be just for once. Perhaps then I wouldn't be let to come over here, afterward," the boy replied sadly.

"Couldn't you coax?" asked Hanny.

"I could just ask, and she'd say no."

Hanny felt so sorry for him. He was very fair and had pretty, but rather timid eyes.

"You can't raise an insurrection when you know for certain it'll be put down the next moment," the boy added.

"Well," Josie drew a long breath and studied.

"I'd ask my father," said Hanny.

"And he'd say, 'Ask your mother; it's as she says.' Most everything _is_ as mother says."

"Then I'd put my arms around his neck and coax. I'd tell him I wanted to be like other boys. They think it's queer----"

Hanny stopped, very red in the face.

"Oh, you needn't mind. I know they laugh at me and make fun of me. But mother's so nice and clean, only I wish she'd dress up as your mothers do, and take a walk sometimes and go to church. And she cooks such splendid things and makes puddings and pies, and she lets me sit and read when I'm done my lessons. I have all the Rollo books, and father has Sir Walter Scott, that he's letting me read now. It's only that mother thinks I'll get into bad things and meet bad boys and get my clothes soiled. Oh, sometimes I'm so tired of being nice! Only you wouldn't want me to come over here if I wasn't."

That was very true.

"But there are a great many nice boys. Ben's just lovely, only he is growing up so fast," said the little girl, with a sigh. "And though Jim teases, he is real good and jolly. He doesn't keep his hands clean, and mother scolds him a little for that."

They could not decide about the insurrection. Presently it was time for Charles to go home. He was always on the mark lest he should not be allowed the indulgence next time. The poor boy had been moulded into the straight line of duty.

The girls went out to swing. They could all three sit in at once. And they often talked all at once.

"It's just awful mean!"

"If we only could do something!"

"Girls!" Josie put her foot so firmly on the ground it almost tipped them out. "Girls, let _us_ see Mr. Reed and ask him."

They all looked at each other with large eyes.

"It couldn't be wrong," began Josie; "because I've asked _your_ father, Hanny, to let you come up to our stoop."

"No, it couldn't be," said the chorus in firm approval.

"Then let's do it. He always comes up First Avenue about half-past five on Saturdays. Now if we were to walk down----"

"Splendid!" ejaculated Tudie.

"And I'll ask mother if we can't go out for a little walk."

"We mustn't wait too late."

Tudie ran in to look at the kitchen clock. It was twenty minutes past five.

"I'll go and ask."

"Why, isn't your own sidewalk good enough?" was Mrs. Dean's inquiry. "Well--yes, you may do an errand for me down at the store. I want a pound of butter crackers. Don't go off the block."

They put on their bonnets. Hanny's was a pretty shirred and ruffled blue lawn. They twined their arms around each other's waists, with Hanny in the middle and walked slowly down to the store. Tudie kept watch while her sister was making the purchase. Then they walked up, then down, looking on the other side lest they should not see him. Up and down again--up with very slow steps. What if they _should_ miss him!

They turned. "Hillo!" cried a familiar voice.

"Oh, Mr. Reed!" They blocked his way in a manner that amused him. He looked from one to the other, and smiled at the eager faces.

"Oh, Mr. Reed--we wanted to--to----"

"To ask you----" prompted Tudie.

Josie's face was very red. It was different asking about a boy. She had not thought of that.

"We want Charles to go to singing-school with us next Saturday. Mr. Bradbury said we might ask all the _nice_ children we knew."

Hanny had crossed the Rubicon in a very lady-like manner.

Mr. Reed laughed pleasantly, but they knew he was not making fun of them.

"Why, yes; I haven't any objection. It will be as his mother says."

They all looked blank, disappointed.

"If _you_ would say it," pleaded Josie. "Then we should be sure."

"Well, I will say it. He shall go next Saturday. He has a nice voice, and there is no reason why he should not be singing with the rest of you."

"Oh, thank you a thousand times."

"It's hardly worth that." Mr. Reed was a little nettled. Had Charles put them up to this?

They were at the corner and turned down their side of the street, nodding gayly.

"You see it was just as easy as nothing," remarked Josie complacently.

Mr. Reed entered his own area, wiped his feet, and hung up his hat. He went out in the back area and washed his hands. Every other day a clean towel was put on the roller. The house was immaculate. The supper-table was set. Mrs. Reed was finishing a block of patchwork, catch-up work, when she had to wait two minutes. She went out in the hall taking the last stitch, and called up the stairway:

"John Robert Charles!"

Meals were generally very quiet. Charles had been trained not to speak unless he was spoken to. Once or twice his father looked at him. A pinafore was rather ridiculous on such a big boy. How very large his white collar was! His hair looked too sleek. He was a regular Miss Nancy.

He helped his mother take out the dishes and wiped them for her.

"Come out on the stoop, Charles," said his father afterward, as he picked up his paper.

Mrs. Reed wondered if Charles had committed some overt act that she knew nothing about. _Could_ anything elude her sharp eyes?

Mr. Reed pretended to be busy with his paper, but he was thinking of his son. In his early years the child had been a bone of contention. His mother always knew just what to do with him, just what was proper, and would brook no interference. What with her cleanliness, her inordinate love of regularity and order, she had become a domestic tyrant. He had yielded because he loved peace. There was a good deal of comfort in his house. He went out two or three evenings in the week, to the lodge, to his whist club, and occasionally to call on a friend. Mrs. Reed never had any time to waste on such trifling matters. He had not thought much about his boy except to place him in a good school.

"Charles, couldn't you have asked me about the singing-school?" he said rather sharply.

"About--the singing-school?" Charles was dazed.

"Yes. It wasn't very manly to set a lot of little girls asking a favor for you. I'm ashamed of you!"

"Oh, father--who asked? We were talking of it over to Josie Dean's. I knew mother wouldn't let me go. I--I said so." Charles' fair face was very red.

"You put them up to ask!"

"No, I didn't. They never said a word about it. Why, I wouldn't have asked them to do it."

Mr. Reed looked suspiciously at his son.

"You don't care to go?"

"Yes, I do, very much." The boy's voice was tremulous.

"Why couldn't _you_ ask me?"

"Because you would leave it to mother, and she would say it was not worth while."

"Was that what you told them?" Mr. Reed was truly mortified. No man likes to be considered without power in his own household.

"I--I think it was," hesitated the boy. The girls had started an insurrection, sure enough. Well,