CHAPTER IV.
THE HAM.
It happened that one cause and another hindered Daisy from going to Crum Elbow to fetch the strawberry-baskets, until the very Tuesday afternoon before the birthday. Then everything was right; the pony chaise before the door, Sam in waiting, and Daisy just pulling her gloves on, when Ransom rushed up. He was flushed and hurried.
"Who's going out with Loupe?"
"I am, Ransom."
"You can't go, Daisy I'm going myself."
"You cannot, Ransom. I am going on business. Papa said I was to go."
"He couldn't have said it! for he said I might have the chaise this afternoon, and that Loupe wanted exercise. So, I am going to give him some. He wouldn't get it with you."
"Ransom," said Daisy trembling, "I have got business at Crum
Elbow, and I must go, and you must not."
"Fiddlesticks!" said Ransom, snapping his fingers at her. "Business! I guess you have. Girls have a great deal of business! Here, Sam ride round mighty quick to Mr. Rush's, and tell Hamilton to meet me at the cross road."
And without another word to Daisy, Ransom sprang into the chaise, cracked his whip over Loupe's head and started him off in a very ungraceful but very eager waddling gallop. Daisy was left with one glove on and with a spirit thoroughly disordered. A passionate child she was not, in outward manner at least; but her feelings once roused were by no means easy to bring down again. She was exceedingly offended, very much disturbed at missing her errand, very sore at Ransom's ill- bred treatment of her. Nobody was near; her father and mother both gone out; and Daisy sat upon the porch with all sorts of resentful thoughts and words boiling up in her mind. She did not believe half of what her brother had said; was sure her father had given no order interfering with her proceedings; and she determined to wait upon the porch till he came home, and so she would have a good opportunity of letting him know the right and the wrong of the case. Ransom deserved it, as she truly said to herself. And then Daisy sorrowed over her lost expedition, and her missing strawberry baskets. What should she do? for the next morning would find work enough of its own at home, and nobody else could choose the baskets to please her. Ransom deserved
In the midst of the angry thoughts that were breaking one over the other in Daisy's mind, there suddenly came up the remembrance of some words she had read that day or the day before. "Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, until seven times, but until seventy times seven." This brought Daisy up short; her head which had been leaning on her hands suddenly straightened itself up. What did those words mean? There could be no doubt, for with the question came the words in the Lord's Prayer which she knew well, but had never felt till then. Forgive Ransom out and out? say nothing about it? not tell her father, nor make her grievance at all known to Ransom's discomfiture? Daisy did not want to yield. He deserved to be reproved and ashamed and made to do better. It was the first time that a real conflict had come up in her mind between wrong and right; and now that she clearly saw what was right, to her surprise she did not want to do it! Daisy saw both facts. There was a power in her heart that said, "No, I will not forgive," to the command from a greater power that bade her do it. Poor Daisy! it was her first view of her enemy; the first trial that gave her any notion of the fighting that might be necessary to overcome him. Daisy found she could not overcome him. She was fain to go, where she had just begun to learn she might go, "to the Strong for strength." She ran away from the porch to her room, and kneeled down and prayed that the King would give her help to keep His commandments. She was ashamed of herself now; but so obstinate was her feeling of displeasure against her brother, that even after she thought she had forgiven him, Daisy would not go downstairs again nor meet him nor her father, for fear she should speak words that she ought not, or fail of a perfectly gentle and kind manner.
But what to do about her baskets? A bright and most business- like thought suddenly came into her head. The breakfast-hour was always late; by being a little earlier than usual she could have plenty of time to go to Crum Elbow and return before the family were assembled. Splendid! Daisy went down the back stairs, and gave her orders in such a way that they should not reach Ransom's ear. If not put on the alert he was sure to be down to breakfast last of anybody. So Daisy went to bed and to sleep with her mind at rest.
It was so pleasant when she came out at half past six the next morning, that Daisy almost thought it was the prettiest time of all.
The morning air smelt so fresh, with the scent of the trees and flowers coming through the dew; and the light, was so cool and clear, not like the hot glow of later hours, that Daisy felt like dancing for very gladness. Then it was such a stroke of business to go to Crum Elbow before breakfast!
The pony and the chaise came up presently, and Sam and the black pony, all right, and every one of them looking more brisk and fresh than usual. And off they went; under the boughs of the dew-bright trees, where the birds seemed to be as glad as Daisy, to judge by the songs they were singing; and by and by out from the beautiful grounds of Melbourne, into the road. It was pleasanter there, Daisy thought, than she had ever seen it. The fields looked more gay in that clear early light, and the dust was kept down by the freshness in the air. It was delightful; and Loupe never went better. Daisy was a very good little driver, and now the pony seemed to understand the feeling in her fingers and waddled along at a goodly rate.
Crum Elbow was not a great many miles off, and in due time they reached it. But Daisy found that other people kept earlier hours than her father and mother at Melbourne. She saw the farmers were getting to work as she went on; and in the houses of the village there were signs that everybody was fully astir to the business of the day. It was a scattering village; the houses and the churches stood and called to each other across great spaces of fields and fences between; but just where the crossing of two roads made a business point, there was a little more compactness. There was the baker's, and the post-office, and two stores and various other houses, and a blacksmith's shop. Up to the corner where the principal store stood, came the pony and his mistress, and forthwith out came Mr. Lamb the storekeeper, to see what the little pony chaise wanted to take home; but Daisy must see for herself, and she got out and went into the store.
"Baskets," said Mr. Lamb. "What sort of baskets?"
"Baskets to hold strawberries little baskets," said Daisy.
"Ah! strawberry-baskets. That, ma'am, is the article."
Was it? Daisy did not think so. The storekeeper had showed her the kind of baskets commonly used to hold strawberries for the market; containing about half a pint. She remarked they were not large enough.
"No, ma'am? They are the kind generally used regular strawberry-baskets we have sold 'em nearly all out, but we've got a few left."
"They are not large enough, nor pretty enough," repeated
Daisy.
"They'll look pretty when they get the strawberries in them," said the storekeeper, with a knowing look at her. "But here's a kind, ma'am, are a little neater maybe you would like these What do you want, child?"
There had come into the store just after Daisy a little poor- looking child, who had stood near, watching what was going on. Daisy turned to look at her as Mr. Lamb's question was thrown at her over the counter, in a tone very different from his words to herself. She saw a pale, freckled, pensive-faced little girl, in very slim clothing, her dress short and ragged, and feet bare. The child had been looking at her and her baskets, but now suddenly looked away to the shopkeeper.
"Please, sir, I want "
"There! stop," said Mr. Lamb; "don't you see I'm busy. I can't attend to you just now; you must wait. Are these baskets better, ma'am?" he said, coming back to Daisy and a smooth voice.
Daisy felt troubled, but she tried to attend to her business.
She asked the price of the baskets.
"Those first I showed you, ma'am, are three pence apiece these are sixpence. This is quite a tasty basket," said Mr. Lamb, balancing one on his forefinger. "Being open, you see, it shows the fruit through. I think these might answer your purpose."
"What are those?" said Daisy, pointing to another kind.
"Those, ma'am, are not strawberry baskets."
"But please let me see one. What is the price?"
"These fancy baskets, ma'am, you know, are another figure. These are not intended for fruit. These are eighteen pence apiece, ma'am."
Daisy turned the baskets and the price over. They were very neat! they would hold as many berries as the sixpenny ones, and look pretty too, as for a festival they should. The sixpenny ones were barely neat they had no gala look about them at all. While Daisy's eye went from one to the other, it glanced upon the figure of the poor, patient, little waiting girl who stood watching her. "If you please, Mr. Lamb," she said, "will you hear what this little girl has to say? while I look at these."
"What do you want, child?"
The answer came very low, but though Daisy did not want to listen she could not help hearing.
"Mother wants a pound of ham, sir."
"Have you brought the money for the flour?"
"No, sir mother'll send it."
"We don't cut our hams any more," said the storekeeper. "Can't sell any less than a whole one and that's always cash. There! Go, child I can't cut one for you."
Daisy looked after the little ragged frock as it went out of the door. The extreme mystery of some people being rich and some people poor, struck her anew, and perhaps something in her look as it came back to the storekeeper made him say,
"They're very poor folks, Miss Randolph the mother's sickly, and I should only lose my money. They came and got some flour of me yesterday without paying for it and it's necessary to put a stop to that kind of thing at once. Don't you think that basket'll suit, ma'am?"
Baskets? and what meant those words which had been over and over in Daisy's mind for the few days past? "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." Her mind was in great confusion.
"How much does a ham cost, Mr. Lamb?"
"Sixteen pence a pound, ma'am," said the storekeeper rather dryly, for he did not know but Daisy was thinking a reproof to him.
"But how many pounds are there in a ham?"
"Just as it happens, ma'am sometimes twenty, and from there down to ten."
"Then how much does a whole ham cost?" said Daisy, whose arithmetic was not ready.
"A ham of fifteen pounds, ma'am, would be about two dollars and forty cents."
Daisy stood looking at the baskets, and thinking how much money she would have over if she took the sixpenny ones. She wanted twenty baskets; she found that the difference of price between the plain and the pretty would leave her twenty shillings in hand. Just enough! thought Daisy, and yet, how could she go to a strange house and offer to give them a ham? She thought she could not. If she had known the people; but as it was Daisy bought the pretty baskets and set off homewards.
"Whatsoever ye would that others should do to you, do ye even so to them" Daisy could see nothing along the road but those words. "That is my King's command to me and those poor people have got no breakfast. If I was in that little girl's place, I would like to have it given to me. But those other baskets would they do? I could make them do somehow Nora and I could dress them up with greens and flowers!"
The pony chaise stopped. Sam came up alongside.
"Sam, take those baskets back to the store. I am going back there."
Round came the chaise, and in five minutes more they were at the Crum Elbow corner again, for Daisy's heart-burning had not let her go far. Mr. Lamb was exceedingly mystified, as it was very unusual for young ladies like this one to come buying whole hams and riding off with them. However, he made no objections to the exchange, being a gainer by ten cents; for Daisy had asked for a ham of fifteen pounds.
Then Daisy enquired the way to the girl's house, and her name, and set off in a new direction. It was not far; a plain little brown house, with a brown gate a few yards from the door. Daisy got out of the chaise and opened the gate, and there stood still and prayed a little prayer that God would help her not to feel foolish or afraid when she was trying to do right. Then she went up to the door and knocked. Somebody said in a very uninviting tone of voice, "Come in!"
It was hard for Daisy; she had expected that somebody would open the door, but now she must go in and face all that was there. However, in she went. There was a poor room to be sure, with not much in it. A woman was taking some hot bread, just baked, out of a little cooking stove. Daisy saw the little girl standing by; it was the right place.
"Well!" said the woman, looking up at Daisy from her stove oven "what is it?" She looked pale and unhappy, and her words were impatient. Daisy was half afraid.
"I am Daisy Randolph" she began, gently.
"Go on," said the woman, as Daisy hesitated.
"I was in Mr. Lamb's store just now, when your little girl came to buy some ham."
"Well! what then?"
"Mr. Lamb said he would not cut any, and she was obliged to go without it."
"Well, what have you to do with all that?"
"I was sorry she was disappointed," said Daisy, more steadily; "and as Mr. Lamb would not cut one for her I have brought a whole one if you will please accept it. It is at the gate, because the boy could not leave the horses."
The woman set her bread on the floor, left the oven door open, and rose to her feet.
"What did you tell her, Hephzibah?" she said, in a threatening voice.
"I didn't tell her nothing," said the girl hurriedly "I never spoke to her."
"How did she know what you came for?"
"I was so near," said Daisy, bravely, though she was afraid, "that I couldn't help hearing."
"Well, what business was it of yourn?" said the woman, turning upon her. "If we are poor, we don't throw it in anybody's face; and if you are rich, you may give charity to those that ask it. We never asked none of you and don't want it."
"I am not rich," said Daisy, gently, though she coloured and her eyes were full of tears; "I did not mean to offend you; but I thought you wanted the ham, and I had money enough to get it. I am very sorry you won't have it."
"Did Mr. Lamb tell you we were beggars?"
"No, not at all."
"Then what put into your head to come bringing a ham here? who told you to do it?"
"Nobody told me," said Daisy. "Yes there did, though. The Lord
Jesus Christ told me to do it, ma'am."
"What do you mean?" said the woman, suddenly sobering as if she was struck.
"That's all, ma'am," said Daisy. "He had given me the money to buy the ham, and I heard that your little girl wanted it. And I remembered His commandment, to do to others what I would like they should do to me I didn't mean to offend you."
"Well, I ain't offended," said the woman. "I s'pose you didn't mean no harm; but we have some feelings as well as other folks. Folks may work, and yet have feelings. And if I could work, things would be well enough; but I've been sick, miss, and I can't always get work that I would like to do and when I can get it, I can't always do it," she added with a sigh.
Daisy wanted to go, but pity held her fast. That poor, pale, ragged child, standing motionless opposite her! Daisy didn't venture to look much, but she saw her all the same.
"Please keep the ham this time!" she broke out, bravely, "I won't bring another one!"
"Did nobody send you?" said the woman, eyeing her keenly.
"No," said Daisy, "except the Lord Jesus He sent me."
"You're a kind little soul!" said the woman, "and as good a Christian as most of 'em I guess. But I won't do that. I'd die first! unless you'll let me do some work for you and make it up so." There was relenting in the tone of these last words.
"Oh, that will do," said Daisy, gladly. "Then will you let your little girl come out and get the ham? because the boy cannot leave the horses. Good-bye, Mrs. Harbonner."
"But stop!" cried the woman "you hain't told me what I am to do for you."
"I don't know till I get home and ask there. What would you like to do?"
"My work is tailoring I learnt that trade; but beggars mustn't be choosers. I can do other things plain sewing, and washing, and cleaning, and dairy work; anything I can do."
Daisy said she would bring her word, and at last got off; without her ham, and in glee inexpressible. "They will have some for breakfast," she said to herself; for there had been something in little Hephzibah's eye as she received the great ham in her arms, that went through and through Daisy's heart and almost set her to crying. She was very glad to get away and to be in the pony chaise again, driving home, and she almost wondered at her own bravery in that house. She hardly knew herself; for true it was, Daisy had considered herself as doing work not of her own choosing while she was there; she felt in her Master's service, and so was bold where for her own cause she would have shrunk away. "But they have got something for breakfast! I think mine will be good when I get it," said Daisy.
Daisy, however, fell into a great muse upon the course of her morning's experience. To do as she would be done by, now seemed not quite so easy as she had thought; since it was plain that her notions and those of some other people were not alike on the subject. How should she know what people would like? When in so simple a matter as hunger, she found that some would prefer starving to being fed. It was too deep a question for Daisy. She had made a mistake, and she rather thought she should make more mistakes; since the only way she could see straight before her was the way of the command, and the way of duty, therefore; and she was very much inclined to think, besides, that in that way her difficulties would be taken care of for her. It had been so this morning. Mrs. Harbonner and she had parted on excellent terms and the gleam in that poor child's eyes!