Little Bessie, the Careless Girl, or, Squirrels, Nuts, and Water-Cresses

  Produced by Emmy and the Online Distributed ProofreadingTeam at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced fromimages generously made available by The Internet Archive)

  "They approached slowly, the little animal permittingthem to come quite close, and then the children saw that it was indeeda squirrel."--p. 15.]

  THE MARTIN AND NELLY STORIES.

  LITTLE BESSIE, THE CARELESS GIRL,

  OR

  SQUIRRELS, NUTS, AND WATER-CRESSES.

  BY JOSEPHINE FRANKLIN,

  AUTHOR OF "NELLY AND HER FRIENDS," "NELLY'S FIRST SCHOOL-DAYS," "NELLY AND HER BOAT," ETC.

  BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY BROWN AND TAGGARD, 25 AND 29 CORNHILL. 1861.

  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by BROWN AND TAGGARD, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

  RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON.

  LIST OF THE

  "MARTIN AND NELLY STORIES."

  I. NELLY AND HER FRIENDS. II. NELLY'S FIRST SCHOOL-DAYS. III. NELLY AND HER BOAT. IV. LITTLE BESSIE. V. NELLY'S VISIT. VI. ZELMA. VII. MARTIN. VIII. COUSIN REGULUS. IX. MARTIN AND NELLY. X. MARTIN ON THE MOUNTAIN. XI. MARTIN AND THE MILLER. XII. TROUTING, OR GYPSYING IN THE WOODS.

  CONTENTS.

  PAGE CHAPTER I. GOING NUTTING 7

  CHAPTER II. THE RIDE HOME 27

  CHAPTER III. WATER-CRESSES 41

  CHAPTER IV. HUNGRY FISHES 68

  CHAPTER V. LOST 98

  CHAPTER VI. THE NEST 122

  LITTLE BESSIE;

  OR,

  SQUIRRELS, NUTS, AND WATERCRESSES.

  CHAPTER I.

  GOING NUTTING.

  BESSIE was the only child of a poor widow. The mother and daughterlived alone together in a small house, about half a mile from Nelly'shome.

  Bessie's father died when she was quite young, so young that she didnot remember him. There was a portrait of him, which her mother kept inher top bureau drawer in her own room. Occasionally the little girlwas allowed to look at it. It made her feel very sad to do so, and thetears rose in her eyes whenever she thought of what her mother musthave suffered in so great a loss. In the hard task which fell to thatmother of supporting herself and her child, she did not murmur. Beforeher husband's death, she had lived in very comfortable circumstances,but this did not unfit her to work for her living afterwards.

  She gathered and sent fruit to market from her little place, she madebutter and sold it to whomever cared to buy, she knit stockings forher neighbors' children, and, every winter, quilted to order at leastone dozen patchwork counterpanes, with wonderful yellow calico suns intheir centre. By these means she contrived to keep out of debt, andamass a little sum besides. At the commencement of our story, however,a severe fit of illness had so wasted her strength and devoured herlittle means, that the poor widow felt very much discouraged. Theapproach of winter filled her with dread, for she knew that it would beto her a time of great suffering.

  Still, feeble as she was, she managed to continue, but veryirregularly, Bessie's reading and writing lessons. Bessie was not apromising scholar; she liked to do any thing in the world but study.She would look longingly out of the window a dozen times in the courseof a single lesson, and when her mother reproved her by rapping herrather smartly on the head with her thimble, Bessie would only laugh,and say she guessed her skull must be thick, for the lesson _would not_get through, and the thimble did not hurt a bit!

  Bessie, and Nellie Brooks, of whom my readers have heard in the formerstories of this series, were very much attached to each other. Bessiewas younger than Nellie, but that did not stand in the way of theiraffection. Nellie, imperfect as she was herself, used to try sometimesto teach Bessie how to improve her wild ways. Bessie would listen andlisten, as grave as a cat watching a rat hole, but her little eyeswould twinkle in the midst of the reproof, and she would burst into amerry shout, and say, "I do declare, Nell, it isn't any use at all totalk to me about being any better. I'm like the little birds; they'reborn to fly and sing, and I'm born to be horrid and naughty, and dance,and cry, and laugh, just when I shouldn't,--there! I can't be good,anyway. Sometimes I try, and mother looks as pleased as can be, andall at once, before I know it, I flounder straight into mischief again."

  One beautiful autumn day, Nellie and Bessie went nutting in the woods.Each of the little girls had a basket on her arm, and Bessie had a bagbesides; for they had great hopes of coming home heavily loaded. It wasearly in October. The leaves of the trees had begun to fall, but thosethat remained were bright with many colors, the crimson of the mapletrees particularly, making the whole woods look gay. A soft, goldenmist, such as we only see at this season of the year, hung over everything, and veiled even the glitter of a little river which flowed pastthe village and coursed onward to the ocean.

  At first the children met with very little success. The first fewnut-trees they encountered had evidently been visited by some onebefore. The marks of trampling feet were visible on the damp groundbeneath, and the branches had been stripped in such rude haste as totake away both the leaves and the fruit.

  "We'll meet better luck further back in the woods," said Nell; "this istoo near home. The village people can come here too easily for us toexpect to find any thing."

  They walked further on in very good spirits, climbing over rocks whenthey came to them, and swinging their empty baskets in time to snatchesof songs which they sang together. They had gone in this way about amile, when suddenly Bessie stopped, and fixed her eyes searchingly onsomething near them in the grass.

  "What is the matter?" said Nellie.

  "Hush, hush!" said Bessie, softly, "don't speak for a minute till Isee! It's an animal!"

  "A bear?" exclaimed Nellie, in some alarm, quite unmindful of Bessie'srequest for silence, for Nelly was a little bit of a coward, and hada firm belief in all woods being full of wild animals. As she spoke,the noise seemed to startle whatever the creature was that Bessie waswatching, for it ran quickly among the dried leaves that strewed thegrass, and bounded on a high rock not far distant.

  "There!" said Bessie, in a vexed tone, "you've frightened him away. Wemight have tracked him to his hole if you had kept still."

  "I was afraid it was a bear," said Nelly, half ashamed.

  "A bear!" cried Bessie, in great scorn; "I'd like to see a bear in_these_ woods."

  "Would you? _I_ wouldn't," said Nelly.

  "I mean--well--I mean there isn't a bear around here for hundreds ofmiles. That was a squirrel you frightened away. Didn't he look funnyspringing up there?"

  "He's there now, looking at us. Don't you see his head sticking out ofthat bush? What bright eyes he has."

  Bessie found that it was so. There was the squirrel's head, twistedoddly on one side, in order to get a good view of his disturbers. Hiskeen eyes were fixed anxiously on them, as though to discover the causeof their intrusion. Presently he leaped on a branch of a shrub, and satstaring solemnly at them.

  "It can't be a squirrel," said Bessie, "after all; its tail is not halfbushy or long enough."

  "It jumps like one," said Nellie, "and its eyes and ears are just likea squirrel's too. See, it's gray and white!"

  They approached slowly, the little animal permitting them to come quiteclose, and then the children saw that it was indeed a squirrel, butthat its tail had, by some accident, been
torn nearly half away.

  "Perhaps it has been caught in a trap," suggested Nelly.

  "Or in a branch of a tree," said Bessie. "Well, anyway, little Mr.Squirrel, we shall know you again if we meet you."

  "I should say," exclaimed Nelly, "that there must be plenty of nutssomewhere near us, or that gray squirrel would not be likely to behere."

  The two girls now set about searching for a hickory nut-tree, quiteencouraged in the thought that their walk was to be rewarded at last.Nelly was right in her conjecture. It was not long before theyrecognized the well-known leaf of the species of tree of which theywere in quest. A small group of them stood together, not far distant,and great was the delight of the children to find the ground beneathwell strewed with nuts, some of them lying quite free from their roughouter shells, others only partially opened, while many of them werestill in the exact state in which they hung upon the tree. Of coursethe former were preferred by the little nut gatherers, but it was foundthat as these did not fill the bag and baskets, it was necessary toshell some of the remainder. Accordingly, Bessie selected a large flatstone, as the scene of operation, and providing herself with anothersmall one, as a hammer, she began pounding the unshelled nuts, and bythese means accumulated a second store; Nelly gathering them, andmaking a pile beside her, ready to be denuded of their hard greencoverings.

  "There," triumphantly said Nelly, after a little while; "that dearlittle squirrel told the truth. Here is quite a pile of shells showingthe mark of his teeth. See, Bessie, he has nibbled away the sides ofall these, and eaten the meat. How neatly it is done, and what sharplittle fangs he must have!"

  The bag and baskets were soon filled, and the two children turnedhomeward. The day was a warm one for that season of the year, and theirburdens were very hard to carry on that account. Many a time theypaused on the path to put down the baskets and rest.

  "I hope," said Nelly, "that when we get out to the open road, somewagon will come along that will give us a lift. Who would have thoughtthat nuts could be so heavy? I am so warm and _so_ thirsty, I do notknow how to get along, and there isn't a single brook about here thatwe can drink out of."

  "I'll tell you how we will fix it," said Bessie. "I remember, lastyear, when I came nutting, I saw a little house, a poor littleconcern,--not half as nice as ours, and dear knows that is poorenough,--standing in the edge of the wood, about half a mile belowwhere we are now. We can stop when we get there, and I will go in andborrow a tin cup to drink out of the well."

  "A half mile!" echoed Nelly, in a tone of weariness; "I don't believewe shall get there in an hour, I am so very, very tired."

  They walked on slowly, the peculiar heaviness of the warm Octoberday making each of them feel that to go nutting in such weather wasvery hard work. At last the little house presented itself. It was apoor place indeed. It was built of rough pine boards that had neverbeen painted. A dog lay sleeping before the door, the upper half ofwhich was open, and through which the sunshine poured into the room.The house stood, as Bessie had said, on the edge of the wood, large,fertile fields extending in the distance, on the opposite side fromthat by which the children had approached it.

  "You knock," said Bessie, getting struck with a fit of shyness, as thetwo walked up the path to the door.

  "No, _you_," said Nelly, "I don't know what to say."

  The dog got up, stretched himself, and gave vent to a low growl, as hesurveyed the new comers.

  "Good fellow, nice fellow," said Bessie, coaxingly, putting out herhand towards him as she did so; but the good, nice fellow's growldeepened into a loud, savage bay. The children stood still, irresolutewhether to retreat or not. Attracted by the noise, a pale, sickly girlabout fifteen years of age, came to the door, and leaning over thelower half which was shut, seemed by looking at them to ask what theywanted.

  "Please," said Bessie, "would you mind lending me a tin dipper to drinkout of at your well?"

  "Haven't got any well," said the girl; "but you can drink out of thespring if you've a mind to. There it is, down by that log: it runsright from under it. You'll find a mug lying 'long side. Do stop yournoise, Tiger."

  The children set down their baskets, and moved towards the spring verygladly. They found the mug, and each enjoyed a drink of the pure, coldwater. While doing so, they observed that near the little barn at therear of the house, a man was harnessing a sleek, comfortable lookinghorse to a market wagon, laden with cabbages and potatoes. The man wasthin and white looking, and it seemed to the children as if the properplace for him were his bed. He did not see the visitors, but went onwith his work. The girls having finished drinking, returned to thefront door, over which still leaned the sickly girl.

  "Much obliged to you," said Nelly, "it's a beautiful spring; clear andcold as ever I saw."

  "'Tisn't healthy though," said the girl; "leastways, we think it's thatthat brings us all down with the fever every spring and fall."

  "The fever!" echoed Bessie, "what fever?"

  "The fever'n nager," replied the girl. "Mother is in bed with it now,and though father is getting ready to go to town to market, the shakin'is on him right powerful. I'm the only one that keeps about, and thatis much as ever, too."

  "What makes you drink it?" asked Bessie. "I wouldn't, if it made me sosick."

  "Have to," said the girl, "there is no other water hereabouts."

  "Can't your father _move_?" said Nelly.

  The girl shook her head.

  "Wouldn't he _like_ to, if he could?" continued Nelly.

  "I guess not," said the girl, "we mean to get used to it. We can'tafford to move. Father owns the place, and he has no chance to sell it.The farm is good, too. We raise the best cabbages and potatoes aroundhere. Guess you've been nutting, haven't you?"

  "Yes," said Bessie, with some pride, "we have those two baskets andthis bag _full_."

  "Is it much fun?" asked the girl pleasantly.

  "Splendid," said Bessie; "don't you ever try it?"

  "No; I'm always too sick in nut season--have the shakes. But I dobelieve I should like to some time. Are you two little girls going soonagain?"

  "I don't know," said Bessie, "may be so. If we do, shan't we stop andsee if you are able to go along? Your house isn't much out of the way;we can stop just as well as not."

  The pale girl looked quite gratified at these words of Bessie, but saidthat she didn't know whether the "shakes" would allow her.

  "Well," said Bessie, "we will stop for you, anyway. My mother wouldsay, I am sure, that the walk would do you good. Good-by. I hope youwill all get better soon."

  "Stop a moment," said the girl, "don't you live somewhere down by theBrooks' farm?"

  "Yes," said Nelly, "that is my home, and Bessie lives only a little waybeyond."

  "I thought so," said the girl, smiling, "I think I've seen you when Ihave been riding by with father. He's going that way, now: wouldn't youlike to get in the wagon with him? He will pass your house."

  "Oh, I guess his load is heavy enough already," said Nelly.

  "Nonsense," said the girl; "you just wait here, while I go ask him."

  She darted off before they could detain her, and in a short time more,the horse and wagon appeared round the corner of the house, the mandriving the fat horse (which, as far as the children could see, was theonly fat living creature on the place), and the girl walking at thewagon side.

  "There they are," the children heard her say, as she neared them.

  The man smiled good naturedly, and bade Bessie and Nelly jump in. Hearranged a comfortable seat for them on the board on which he himselfsat.

  "But isn't your load very heavy already, sir?" asked Nelly.

  "Not a bit of it," said the farmer; "my horse will find it only atrifle, compared to what we usually take. It isn't full market dayto-morrow is the reason. Jump in! jump in!"

  The children needed no other bidding, but clambered up by the spokes ofthe great wheels and seated themselves, one on each side of the farmer,who took their nuts, and placed th
em safely back among his vegetables.

  Then he cracked his whip, and called out, "Good-by, Dolly. I'll be homeabout eleven o'clock to-night. Take good care of your mother."

  The next moment the little girls were in the road, going homeward asfast as the sleek horse could carry them.