KATY’S FIRST GRIEF.
Little Katy, so they told me, was an only child. I don’t know how that could be, when she had two little sisters in heaven. But Katy had never seen them; they turned their cheeks wearily to the pillow and died years before she was born. Katy had heard her mamma speak of them, and she had seen their little frocks and shoes, and a little blue silk hood, trimmed round the face with a soft white fur, soft as the baby’s velvet skin; and she had seen a dry crust of bread, with the marks of tiny teeth in it, carefully put away in the drawer; and a small string of coral beads, red as the baby’s lip; and she had seen her mother put her fingers through the sleeve of a little fine cambric shirt, and look at it till tears blinded her eyes. Katy was not strong herself; her mother was very much afraid that she would die too; she was very careful always to tie her tippet closely about her throat, when she went out, and to see that her feet were warm, and her little arms covered. There were very few days in which Katy felt quite well, and I don’t suppose she could help crying and fretting a great deal; she wanted to be in her mother’s lap all the while, and did not like to have strangers come in and talk to her mother. That could not be helped you know, and then Katy would cry very loud, and nothing seemed to pacify her.
As she grew older, her mother took such good care of her, that her health began to improve, and she grew stronger; but she had been petted, and had her own way so much (because they disliked to trouble her when she was sick) that she had become very selfish; she liked nobody to touch her toys, or even look at them. This was a pity. One morning Katy woke, climbed up in her crib, and called out “Mamma!” but there was no mamma there. “Papa!” there was no papa either. This was something very uncommon; for they were always there when she woke in the morning. Then Katy set up a great cry, louder than you would ever believe such a little bit of a thing could cry, and then a strange woman came in, and said, “Hush!” and then Katy screamed louder than ever, and grew very red in the face, and said, “I won’t hush, I want my mamma—I will have my mamma!” and then Katy’s papa came up and whispered to the strange woman, and then the strange woman nodded her head and went out of the room; and then Katy’s papa told Katy that her mamma was in the other room, and that, if she would be a good girl, and stop crying, and let him dress her, she should go and see her. Katy had a great mind not to stop, but she wanted so much to see her mamma that she made up her mind she would; so her papa put on her little petticoats, and as he never had dressed his little girl, he buttoned them before, instead of behind; and then Katy had a cry about that, and then her papa was a great while finding out how her frock fastened; he saw some “hooks” on it, but he could not find any “eyes” to hook them into, and so he told Katy, who kept wriggling round on his lap like a little eel, slipping off his knee, and slipping back, and fretting like a little tempest to see “mamma;” then papa’s forehead began to have great drops of perspiration on it, as he fumbled away at the little frock with his big fingers, and by-and-by he found out that there were things called “loops,” so small he could hardly see them, to hold the hooks, instead of eyes, and then he said, drawing a long breath, “Now, little Katy, I’ll have you dressed in a twinkling!” so he fastened it, and then put on her stockings, and one shoe; but when he looked for the other, it was nowhere to be found; it was not in the crib, nor under it, in the closet, or in the bureau drawers; it was not anywhere, that he could see. Katy wanted to go without it, but her papa said, no, she would get cold: and then Katy set up another of her great cries, and just as two big tears, big enough to wet the whole front of her frock, came rolling down, her papa found the little red shoe under the wash-stand. Then he put it on, and saying, “Now, Katy,” he took her in his arms, and carried her through the entry, into the “best chamber;” it was so dark, with all the blinds shut and the curtains drawn, that Katy at first could not see who or what was in it. In a minute or two her eyes got used to the dim light, and then she saw her mamma on the bed, and a little white bundle of something lying on her arm. Katy’s papa moved a little nearer, and whispered to Katy, “See, mamma has a cunning little brother for you to play with.” Katy looked at him a minute, and then her face puckered up all over, and she burst out into such a cry, you never heard the like; “I don’t want him—I don’t want him, I want to lay on mamma’s arm, I don’t want any little brother!” Then the strange woman motioned to Katy’s papa to take her out of the room, and then Katy clung to the bed-post, and cried louder than ever, “No, no—take him away, take him away—I don’t want that little brother!”
Poor little Katy—you should have heard her sob, going down stairs; all that papa could say did not comfort her. He took her on his lap to the breakfast table, gave her some real tea out of his saucer, and let her eat with mamma’s nice silver fork; it did no good, not more than a minute at a time; she could not forget that “little brother,” who was cuddled up so comfortably in her place on mamma’s arm. And now even papa could not stay any longer with Katy, for it was already past nine o’clock, and he must go down town to attend to his business; so he called Bridget, and told her to keep Katy in the parlor with her playthings, till her mamma sent for her; and kissing his little sobbing girl, he went away. Papa and mamma both gone! what should Katy do? Bridget tried to comfort her, and sang her a song, called “Green grow the rushes, O,” but it was of no use. Then the strange woman came down to eat her breakfast. Katy wiped the tears out of her eyes, and looked at her from under the corner of her apron. The strange woman sat down to her breakfast, and ate away; how she did eat! one egg—two eggs—three eggs—two cups of coffee, and several slices of bread and butter; then she said to Bridget, “Where’s that crying child? Mrs. Smith wants to have her brought up-stairs; I never heard of such a thing since I went out nursing, as having such a troublesome little thing in a sick chamber. She will make her mother sick with her fussing, and so I told her; but she told me to bring her up when I had done my breakfast, and to I suppose I must; where is she?”
“There,” said Bridget, pointing to Katy, cuddled up in the corner, so afraid of the strange woman, that she had forgotten to cry.
“Sure enough—well—I am glad to see you are in a better temper, Miss Katy; your mother wants you to go up-stairs, but I can tell you that you won’t stay there long, unless you are as hush as a mouse; for I have come here to take care of her, did you know that? and I never allow naughty children to stay with their sick mothers. Now, if you will promise to be good, I will take you up-stairs; will you promise?”
Katy’s under lip quivered a little, but not a word came out of it.
“Say, will you be good?”
No answer.
“Well, then, you can stay down stairs, that’s all, I sha’n’t take you up-stairs.” Then the strange woman took a cup and saucer in her hand and went up into the sick room.
Then Katy cried so hard and so loud.
Katy’s sick mother turned her head on the pillow and sighed. “Is that Katy, crying, Mrs. Smith?” she asked of the strange woman, who just then came in to the door.
“Oh, don’t you be bothering your head now about your family,” said Mrs. Smith, pouring a little gruel into the cup.
“It is very well to say that,” said Katy’s mamma; “Katy has been a sickly child always, and I can’t help feeling anxious about her. We have been obliged to fondle her more on that account; I am sure she will outgrow her pettishness, as she gets her health, and it is very hard to turn her off so all at once; it is hard for grown people to bear it, when another person steps in and takes their place with a friend whom they love, and how can you expect a little sick child to feel willing and happy about it all at once?”
“Well, I told her she could come up, if she would promise to be good, but she wouldn’t, and so I left her down there; I can’t have her here fretting you.”
Katy’s mamma laid her hand on her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment, and sighed again; then she said, “It frets me much more to hear her cry down stairs; I think I can make it all right to her about the baby if she comes up here.”
“Just as you please, of course,” said Mrs. Smith, giving her gingham apron a twitch; “just as you please; but you must recollect, if the child frets you into a fever, the blame will be laid at my door. Oh, just as you please, of course, you are mistress of the house; but I always likes to see ladies a little reasonable;” and Mrs. Smith went into the entry and told Bridget to bring up Katy to see her mamma.
Now Katy was, on the whole, a good little girl, as good as she could be, with all the pains and aches and ails she had; she was very affectionate too, and loved her papa and mamma very very dearly, and believed every thing they told her, and they had patience with her faults, believing that when her health was better she would be less fretful. That was why her mamma was troubled at what the nurse had said to her little grieved sorrowful daughter; and that was why, though she felt very sick, she sent for her to try and make her feel happy. Oh, you never will know, any of you, until you have little children of your own, how strong a mother’s love is.
Well, little Katy crept into her mother’s room, and sidled up to the bed, with an eye on the strange woman, Mrs. Smith, as if she feared every moment that she would snatch her up, before she could get to her mother’s bedside.
Katy’s mother put out her pale hand and took hold of her little daughter’s trembling fingers. Katy was trying to choke down the tears, but one of them fell upon her mother’s hand. Then Katy’s mother told her to climb upon a chair and get carefully on the bed.
Katy did not look at Mrs. Smith, though she heard her mutter something, but scrambled upon the bed as her mother told her.
“Katy, look here,” and her mamma unrolled the soft folds of a little fleecy blanket, and there lay a little baby, so little, so cunning, with such a funny little fuzz all over its head, and such little pink bits of fingers.
“Katy, I want you to help me take care of this little brother; I am sick, and can not wait upon him, and I want you to hand me his little blankets, and frocks, and shoes, and caps; and I want you to pat him with your little soft hand when he cries. See, he is no bigger than your big doll; and by-and-by, when he is a little older, you shall sit in your little rocking-chair, and rock him and get him to sleep for me; and when he gets fast asleep, you and I will put him in the cradle, and tuck him all up nice and warm, and you shall sit by him and sing him the little song papa taught you. He is your little live doll, and can open and shut his eyes—see there!”
“Yes, I see,” said Katy, in a soft whisper, and the ugly frown all went away from her pretty white forehead. “I see. Has he got any toes?”
Then Katy’s mother showed Katy the little bits of pink toes all curled up in a heap on his funny little foot. And then Katy’s mother said, that her head ached so badly, she must try to sleep, but that she wanted Katy to sit in the chair beside the bed, very still, and take care of the little baby, while she slept; and Katy looked quite pleased, and said she would. So every time the little baby breathed hard, Katy would pat the quilt with her forefinger, but she never spoke a word any more than a little mouse. And all that day she staid in her mamma’s room and did exactly as she told her; and when her papa came home, she went down stairs with him, and drank some “real tea” out of his saucer, and put a piece of butter on his plate, because she said she promised to help mamma while she was sick; and then her papa undressed her and put her to sleep in his bed; but after she had said, “Now I lay me” and “Our Father,” her little lip quivered, and looking up in her papa’s face, she said, “Are you sure my mamma can love little brother and me too?” and when her papa said, “Yes, I am sure,” she believed him, because she knew he never told her wrong, and then she laid her head quietly down to sleep.
I could not tell, when a great many weeks had gone by, how she learned to love her little brother, how dearly she loved to help wash him and dress him, and smooth his soft silky hair; how patiently she picked up his playthings when he grew bigger, and gave him all her own too; and how pretty she looked as she sat in her little chair, holding him and peeping into his bright blue eyes. Oh Katy’s mamma knew better about her own little girl than the strange woman, Mrs. Smith, did. She knew how badly a little child’s heart may sometimes ache, and how a few kind words, said at the right time, may cure it and make it happy.
Love your mother, little ones.