He lay on a low couch drawn close to the open window, through which he could gaze at the green meadows and orchards which surrounded the house, and watch the cows going to and fro at milking-time, or the haymakers at their work, and catch many of the pleasant sights and sounds which a farm affords. It was a relief to him to be able thus to look upon the outer world, for he was seldom well enough to leave his couch, and there was little hope that he would ever move about like other children.
All had been done that could be done to alleviate the sadness of his life, and, in spite of its rough, uneven floor and sloping ceilings, his little room was a pleasant place. Any pictures that found their way to the house were nailed upon the walls to gladden Jerry's eyes. The rose-tree which grew luxuriantly outside was carefully trained about the window, that Jerry might enjoy the perfume of its blossoms. And a jar of flowers invariably stood beside his bed whenever there were any to be had.
Such books as the home could boast were always to be found in Jerry's room, for he was a great reader. And ever since the day, more than three years ago, when, in his seventh year, a sudden fall from the hay-loft had wrought terrible mischief to his spine, books had been his loved companions.
Not so dear, however, as his brothers and sisters, Ellen, Tom, and Lucy, older than himself, and the little ones that followed, who ever received a warm welcome from him, if he were well enough to see them.
Sometimes, however, on his bad days, when the paroxysms of pain were agonising, he could endure the presence of no one save his mother, whose sympathy was so true and tried.
Books were not the only means of diversion which Jerry possessed. When his head ached with reading, he could amuse himself with straw-plaiting. In the part of England in which the Mansfields lived, poor people used to devote their leisure to this employment, and found it remunerative. But of late years, for sundry reasons, this trade has declined, and although Jerry plaited many a yard of straw, he earned very little by it. That little, however, was acceptable, and supplied him with many comforts which he must otherwise have lacked. For Joseph Mansfield's family was longer than his purse, and he could not afford to keep any of his children in idleness.
He paid a heavy rent for the few acres of land which he farmed, and was frequently in arrears with it. When a bad season came, or any of the cattle died, his face grew long, and he talked about ruin, whilst his wife looked more pale and worried than ever.
The elder children knew that their parents expected them to work for themselves as soon as they were old enough to do so, and Ellen was especially anxious to be earning her own living. There was no need for her to leave home in search of employment, had she been willing to perform the work that lay to hand, for the management of the house and dairy, and the care of so many little ones, with all the washing and mending their clothes required, was more than Mrs. Mansfield could accomplish unaided.
But, as we have said, Ellen disliked these household tasks, and always gave her assistance grudgingly. Being handy with her needle, she had set her heart on becoming a dressmaker. And, after trying long to dissuade her from this purpose, her mother had, in compliance with her wishes, written to her aunt, who was a dressmaker at Charmouth, a large seaport about thirty miles distant from Ellen's home, to ask her to take her niece as an apprentice. It was the answer to this letter that Ellen was so eagerly expecting.
"What has kept you so long this morning, Nell?" her little brother inquired as she seated herself by his side.