“I think people are very foolish to eat green gooseberry tarts,” said Ben. “The berries are so much nicer when they are fully ripe.”
Gill thought so to; but he said there was no accounting for tastes. For his own part, he would never eat snakes; but the savage Africans would devour them with a hearty relish. The children made a little expression of disgust; and, having finished their task, Gill put the berries in a cool place until the morning; and Ben and Sally went to give Jack a ride in the old cart. It was a great help to Lucy to have them look after and amuse the baby for an hour or two; and the little fellow was perfectly delighted when Sally appeared at the kitchen-door.
Children like the companionship of their kind. That is the reason why. the mother of a large family finds her task easier than when there is but one; for the little creatures depend upon each other, and are always diverted and contented.
Sally was like an old woman in her nursing,—she was so tender and thoughtful of Jack. She spread a worn shawl over the hay in the cart lest the child should get it in his eyes by the jolting, and she put cushions round him to prevent his being hurt by a sudden bump; for the little dumpling would roll and tumble about with every motion.
What a merry time they had in the lane that led from the barn to the field! Ben drew the vehicle, and Sally pushed, chirruping all the way that Jack might know how near she was; for the baby was quite shut off from a view of her and Ben by the deep sides of the cart.
That is often the way with us, some one drawing us, and some one pushing us,—invisible loved ones. If we can not see them, we seem to hear the voices, and we are passive in their hands, and glad to be as a little child, without care, or without responsibility.
Baby Jack liked best, however, to see Sally’s curly head, as she peeped over the back of the cart; and when she and Ben clambered up and got in to sit beside him on the cushions, and show him pictures from Mother Goose, or sing pretty songs, or bring their play down to his tiny capacity, he was forgetful even of mother, who came often to the kitchen door to listen and know whether he was crying for her.
Crying, indeed? Not he. In his fat fist he held a cracker to try his two pearly teeth upon, and Sally had a cup of milk in the “corner cupboard,” as she called one part of the cart, so the baby could not be hungry.
It was pretty to see how generous he was with his morsel, holding it up to Sally and to Ben, after every nibble of his own little mouth. There was no satisfying him unless they would put their lips down to make believe, and would say “good, good.”
Ah me! if only this free spirit would cling to us through life! Pleasures are always sweeter when we share them with others. Baby Jack made the right beginning when he pressed part of his cracker upon his young playmates.