Summary

Josephine Franklin Little Bessie, the Careless Girl…

It was at least three hours earlier than it was her habit to rise, yet she did not stop to think of that, but bounded out and began her morning's ablution; her mother having always striven to impress upon her the great fact that "cleanliness is next to godliness." It was but a short time when, leaving her mother, as she thought, soundly sleeping, Bessie crept noiselessly as possible down the stairs that led to the kitchen, and there carefully packed her cresses for market.
Source: Gutenberg

Josephine Franklin Little Bessie, the Careless Girl…

Just look at those bitter-sweets, Nell, aren't they bright?"
"I mean to get some," cried Nelly, as she paused to admire the red sprays of the berries that grew at the side of the short-cut path they were pursuing. "I will take them home to mother to put in her winter bouquets of dried grasses, that stand on the parlor mantle-shelf. [71] They will enliven them and make them much handsomer."
"Why not wait till we return?" said Martin; "you will have all the trouble of carrying them to the woods and back again, and perhaps lose them by the way."
Source: Gutenberg

Josephine Franklin Little Bessie, the Careless Girl…

It thought, probably, that it was carrying off a good, sound nut."
"Yes," said Bessie, "and I dare say it was it that ran off with those in my basket, and all the others in the garden. Poor, dear Nathan! I must tell him about it, and ask him to forget my cross words. One of my Sunday-school hymns says, 'Kind words can never die.' I wonder if the unkind words live forever too. Do they, mother?"
Source: Gutenberg

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