Mary L. Bissell

“ She tried to put the pocket-book out of her head, but it lay there like a leaden weight in her bosom, and would not be forgotten; she tried to think of her Christmas tree, but the shining tapers were all gone out and would not be relighted. The face of the strange gentleman would come up in their stead; but the cheery smile which had warmed her heart so, burned into it now like a red-hot iron. And Tim’s [Pg 71] words, too,—those bad, cruel words, “It’s no better than stealing, not a bit; and you would not be a thief, Berty,”—came back again and again. ”

“ I have never wished for any one younger than Grandma either; and I hope, I believe, I have filled, in some measure, the place of the son she then lost. But the dear old patient heart has got a fresh wound now, Polly: she has lost a daughter now; another orphan grandchild is weeping in her home; and the old look of sadness and weariness has come back. I can’t banish it alone this time, Polly. Will you help me?”
“Oh, I know what you mean!” cried Mary, bursting into tears; “I know what you mean. ”

“ It was at Norfolk that little Mary’s parents lived; and it was this terrible disease which had robbed her, in a single week, of her father, her mother, her eldest brother, and Sylvie, her faithful black nurse. Poor little Mary! well might she shudder and turn pale as she remembered that fearful day when she found herself alone with the twin babies, with only those strange doctors and nurses to care for them. Well might she cling, too, to the dear cousin who had braved the pestilence to come to their relief.
The grandmother’s house was of course open to the orphans. ”

“ It was, as I said, one night after a visit to old Madame Hansmann that Berty’s wish came into her heart. She was sitting in her attic, striving patiently, by the light of a candle-end which Biddy had given her, to fashion a frock for little Fritz from an old one of her own. She was not a very skilful seamstress, and her materials were none of the best; so, as you may imagine, she was much too busy at first to pay much attention to the children’s chatter, as they frolicked and tumbled upon the old straw bed in the corner. ”

“ I know very well how sad it is to be an orphan, and I have seen the time, at first, when, like you, I could do nothing but cry; so, I don’t mean to set myself up for an example; but, my little Mary, there is one thing which you and I must both remember, and which ought to help us very much, and that is this: whatever our trials are, they are sent by One who knows much better than we do what is good for us, and for those we love; and whatever our blessings are, they come to us straight from His hand. ”

“ How bright and cheerful the old garret would appear, lighted up by the glories of such a tree as the Westermann’s, for Bertha’s dim German recollections were wonderfully freshened by Gottlieb’s descriptions; how her mother would smile from her sweet rest in Paradise upon the little pale girl to whose feeble care she had, with such a failing heart, committed her little ones; [Pg 22] how sweetly her father would sleep in his bed there under the sea, if he knew how happy his darlings were made.
Then the gifts, too. Oh, how Berty’s imagination revelled in those gifts! ”

“ I suppose it ought,” said Mary, slowly; “but, oh, cousin John, it is so very hard. You are a man, and you are so very good you would be sure to feel just right; but I am only a little girl, and it is [Pg 36] so very hard, so very different. You and Grandma are very kind, but, oh, I want papa so much, and mamma, and Ned! Oh, cousin, you don’t know! It seems sometimes as if my heart would break!”—and the child leaned her head against her cousin’s shoulder, and wept as if her heart were really breaking. ”

“ Berty nodded, and took them without speaking. It seemed that she scarcely needed such tools now, rich as she was; but she should feel lost without them, and they might help to occupy her mind until she had decided what to do with all that money. So she set off for the crossing, while Tim followed close at her heels, very uncomfortable, but quite determined to keep her in sight. He had gotten no farther through his puzzle, poor boy, than this first determination; and this playing the policeman upon Berty was not at all to his taste. ”

“ Wake up! wake up!”
The girl made no answer, but, with a weary sigh, picked up an old basket filled with wet rubbish, and, turning the contents out upon the floor, began, with her brother’s help, to sort them carefully into separate little heaps; for Bertha Weisser, my dear children, the dreaming girl by the window, and the heroine of my little story, was nothing more nor less than a poor little German rag-picker. ”

“ Grey had a sofa ready furnished with pillows for Berty to rest upon, which Dr. John insisted that she should occupy at once, though she did not feel in the least tired.
The children were very shy at first, but Fritz and the twins soon made friends. Tim took upon himself to entertain Gottlieb, and as for Rosa and Lina, it was entertainment enough for them to look about them. Berty wondered at Tim; he seemed, she thought, quite as much at home in Mrs. Grey’s handsome house as at Biddy Flanagan’s, always the same-merry, good-natured fellow, never shy, and never too forward ”

“ Grey, seeing which, the Doctor, with a merry look, took her hand and led her up in front of Berty’s couch.
“Berty,” said he, “you were wishing for a fairy godmother, I hear. Mrs. Flanagan was right about one thing, the fairies do not emigrate; but she was wrong about the other, for there is a tribe of them in America, wild as it is; and as fast as you little people come over they adopt you, because there are not Yankee children enough to keep them busy. So you see everybody has a fairy godmother, and all is right. ”

“ Grey. It might have been forgotten, though Tim did not see how that could be. At any rate, he knew Dr. John would never be content to have Berty neglected, any more than he. So he made his way through the children to where the Doctor still stood beside the tree.
“Dr. Grey,” he whispered, “has Miss Mary forgotten Berty, d’ye think—or what?”
“Berty!” cried the Doctor, speaking very loud, and pretending to be quite astonished. “Sure enough! the tree is quite stripped, and Berty has nothing! That’s a great oversight of yours, my good fairy; it will never do at all. ”

“ Who buys your clothes for you?”
“We have not much, Miss,” said Berty, simply. “But what we have we get ourselves, my brother and I; the others are too little.”
“But how can you?” cried Mary, utterly unable to understand such destitution. “You are too little to work yourself, and your brother,” glancing at Tim, “is not very big. How can you take care of so many?”
“We pick things from the gutters, Miss,” said Berty, “and sometimes we sweep the crossing; and Mrs. Flanagan forgives us the rent.”
[Pg 83]
“Oh, it is very sad!” cried Mary, clasping her hands; “it is much worse than us. ”

“ Tim Daly, her master in the rag-picker’s arithmetic, her protector in all her street troubles,—honest, merry, wise, kind-hearted, blundering Tim, who always looked upon the bright side of everything, who always had a word of encouragement for everybody,—who could be a better confidant than he? ”

“ Flanagan’s when the grand carriage drove up, and Dr. John and Tim got out; and dire were the lamentations of Berty’s little family when informed of the accident. But Tim’s glowing account of the comforts of the hospital and the kindness of the Doctor and the nurse went far to console them; and Mrs. Grey’s famous basket of provisions, too, was a great help: for these poor little children seldom tasted anything really good; and even Gottlieb and Lina, who were the only ones old enough to appreciate their sister’s misfortune, could not help heartily enjoying the wholesome food. ”

“ Mine are twins. Are any of yours twins?”
“No, Miss; we all come in a row. Mother said we are like little steps,” said Berty.
“You have a mother, then. My father and mother are dead; there are only the [Pg 82] babies and I,” said little Mary, sorrowfully.
“Are they?” cried Berty, drawing nearer to Mary with a shy feeling of sympathy. “So are mine, too; and there are only the children and me, except uncle Gottlieb in the old country; and we cannot hear from him since mother died.”
“What!” cried Mary, in amazement. “Have you nobody to take care of you? no grandmother, or cousin, or aunt?” ”

“ And I cannot think that Berty was wrong or foolish in this, even though her trouble was about such a little thing; for I am sure that He who cares for the sparrows, and who has provided so many beautiful things for us to enjoy, cares even for our slightest pleasures, and helps us to gain them when they are right. ”

“ I meant them all for you,” said Mary, still holding out the plate. “If there are too many to eat now, you can put them in your pockets and take them home.”
“Take them, Berty,” said Tim, “since the little Miss is so kind. I can put them in my basket for you, and the childer will be glad of them; they don’t get such every day, ye know.”
“So you have some brothers and sisters?” said Mary, after the plate was emptied and the contents stowed in Tim’s basket. “How many?”
“There are four younger than me, Miss,” answered Berty: “two boys and two girls.” ”

“ You’re not fit to be trusted with a purse at all. You must leave it at home next time with Polly and I. We know better than to lay a stuffed pocket-book down upon a stage-seat, as if it was a paper parcel.”
Dr. John appeared to pay very little attention to the old lady’s raillery. He was thinking too intently,—trying to remember something, if one might judge by his knitted brows. “Yes,” he said, at length, as if he had gotten at it at last,—“yes; I am sure of it. The child at the crossing and this little Berty are the same. ”

“ It was almost impossible for her, with all the help she had from the kind world, to get food enough for all those children to eat, and clothing enough for them to wear: how could she, whose only living was gained by picking up what other people threw away as worthless, hope to indulge in this luxury of giving, which few of the people around her, so much better off than herself, could afford? ”

“ Towards morning she fell into an uneasy slumber, and dreamed that the strange gentleman, in a policeman’s dress, with the cheery smile still upon his face, hunted her up and down through crowded streets and lonely alleys, while Tim and all the people cried “Stop thief!” and woke to find it morning, and Lieb calling her to get up and asking again those weary questions about the basket and the broom.
She put him off with a story of Tim’s taking care of them, gave him his breakfast, and sent him away to his work ”

“ You will guess, of course, how joyfully Berty received them; how she hugged little Fritz with her one arm, and set him on the bed beside her, while she made the others stand off, one by one, that she might admire them in the comfortable new clothing ”

“ Don’t you mean to give me any share in the twins?”
“Oh, cousin John! I didn’t mean that!” cried the little girl, very earnestly. “I’m sure I love you better than anybody in the world,—at least now,—and Jemmy and Jenny are always calling for ‘Cuddy.’ They never call papa or brother now; and nurse won’t let me put them in mind, because she says it does them no good and only makes me cry. Oh no! I did not mean that. I meant people that belong to you,—people that you have a right to.”
“And I insist that I have a right to you, Polly,” said the young gentleman, pressing Polly very tight in his arms. ”

“ I know it is sad, very sad, to lose so many dear friends at one blow; but Polly must count up her blessings as well as her trials: she has not been left quite helpless and friendless, as so many poor children are, by this same fearful Providence.”
“That is what nurse is always saying,” answered Mary, a little impatiently; “but I can’t see that it makes my trial any easier. I’m sure it only makes me more wretched to think of other people being so miserable.”
“I suppose it does have that effect,” answered cousin John, thoughtfully, “unless [Pg 37] one tries to help them. ”

“ John; “you will have to leave her to the tender mercy of Mrs. Gantz and myself; but those little people down there [Pg 102] are sadly in need of clothing. They are the oddest-looking little mortals; the girls’ dresses are like patchwork quilts, and as for the boy,—well, I shouldn’t care to have Berty for my tailor, poor child. I think the best thing you can do is to get Grandma to go with you there in the morning, and find out what they need. ”

“ I should have said, now, if any one had asked me, that it was aunt Emily’s tea-parties which moped us; but then, of course, she knows.”
“I don’t believe you are moped at all,” said Polly, energetically; “you are always so bright and merry, or, when you are sad, it is not in a stupid way. I wonder at you sometimes, cousin John. You are just like me,—that is, I mean you have no father [Pg 34] and mother; and you have not even the twins;—you have only Grandma in all the world, and yet you seem so happy, while I can do nothing but cry.” ”