ROSE AND HARRY.
ROSE AND HARRY.
On the sloping side of a green hill there was a pretty cottage, with a little garden round it, and a white gate that led into a wood of firs and larches, mixed with a few birch trees, that sent out a delicious odour after a shower of rain when the sun came out, and the green leaves glistened in the light. It was such a solitary place that this cottage would have been lonely, but that near it there was a farm-house, and the sheep belonging to the farmer used to crop the grass on the hill, and often come close up to the gate; and he had cows in the meadows below, and corn-fields at a little distance, and fine strong horses for his ploughs and wagons, and a pigeon-house on the roof of his barn.
In the cottage there lived a little girl and boy called Rose and Harry, with their mama. Their papa died when they were too young to remember him, and their mama seemed to have no happiness but in teaching them, walking about the beautiful country with them, giving them pleasure, and trying to make them as good as she told them their dear papa was. They were very happy children, for they were always with their mama, whom they loved so much. When they awoke in the morning they were sure to see her near their little beds. She bathed and dressed them with her own hands. Her voice led their morning prayer. She sat on the hill while they ran and jumped in the fresh sweet air. They sat at the same round table at breakfast with her, and then went with her to see what Mary the maid was doing, to help to give out what was wanted from the store-room, and to see what vegetables were ready to cut in the garden. Then they did their lessons, read to her, wrote, and did sums; and when work was over they played till she called them to dinner, when they had a great many things to talk over with her. Then after dinner she took them long walks into beautiful places, through woods and green fields, and up hills, where they saw lovely views, and down into deep valleys by the side of clear streams; and when evening came they went home to tea. In summer evenings, when they came in sight of their peaceful home it was still quite light, and the sun was making the windows glitter through the roses that grew round them; but in spring and autumn it was often nearly dark; the stars were coming out, and the bright light of the nice warm fire in their sitting-room shone out pleasantly in the cold air. In winter their walk ended earlier, and they had to run to keep out the frost, or to skip along over the snow. But whether it was warm or cold, light or dark, it was always happy to them. They thought that they liked better than anything in all their pleasant lives the time when they sat down to tea, sometimes by the open window, sometimes by the cheerful fire; and then, when the table was cleared, and their mama brought out her work, and told them stories, or taught Rose to hem and Harry to draw, how happy they were! The only thing that seemed sad to them was when bed-time came; but still, the moment their mama said, "It is time to go to bed," they put everything away, and followed her up stairs; for whatever she wished them to do they did instantly. They loved her so much, that to please and obey her was their delight.
It was early in the month of February, when, one day, they were agreeably surprised by receiving a present from the farmer's wife of a cock and five hens. There was a yard, with an empty hen-house at the back of their cottage, and their mama had often said she would like to keep some fowls to lay fresh eggs for them; so this was a very kind present. Every morning and afternoon they used to go and feed their new pets, and to look for eggs in the nests of the hen-house; and they almost always found three or four a day. They named the cock Emperor, because he looked so grand and proud; the two white hens they named Fairy and Lily, the black one Jet, and the two speckled ones Browny and Pet.
It happened that one day, when Rose and Harry were at play in the garden, they could see their mama's face as she sat at work near the window, and it seemed to Rose that her dear mama looked very pale and melancholy. Rose left off laughing and talking, and was silent so long, that Harry asked what she was thinking of.
"I wish," said she, "that we could do anything useful."
Harry looked as if he did not quite understand her.
"Mama is always working for us, and doing things to make us happy," she continued, "and I wish we could do anything to help her."
"So do I, Rose. What can we do?"