Her mother smiled, and when Bessie shut the door and jumped lightly down the stairs, two at a time, she felt as though her child's courage and hopefulness were really infusing courage and hopefulness into herself.
"She was clipping at the cresses, when she heard some one call her name."—[p. 45.]
Singing at the top of her lungs, Bessie set to work. Never had she felt as light-hearted and happy. She tucked up her calico dress a little way, into the strings of her apron, in order to keep it out of the wet, and drew off her shoes and stockings. Then arming herself with the scissors, she cut vigorously among the cresses; taking care, however, to choose only those that presented a fine appearance, for she was determined that the first specimens the farmer took with him, should be so fine as to attract the attention of the buyers, and thus induce them to come again. A shrewd little business woman was Bessie! She had her basket sitting on some stones near her, and when she moved further up and down the brook, she was careful always to move that also. She was singing away as loudly and heartily as she could, and clipping at the cresses, when she heard some one call her name. She looked up, and there stood a boy about fourteen years old, named Martin, who lived on Nelly's father's farm. He looked as though he wanted very much to laugh at the odd figure which Bessie cut; her sun-bonnet hanging by its strings to her neck, her dress tucked up to the knees, a pair of shears in one hand, an enormous basket in the other, and both of her bare feet in the brook.
"Why, Bessie," said Martin, "what a noise you have been making! I called you four or five times real loud, and I whistled too, and yet you went on singing 'Old folks at home,' and 'Little drops of water,' as though your ears were not made to hear any voice but your own!"
"That's 'cause I'm so happy," said Bessie. "Why, Martin, I'm beginning to earn my own living,—think of that. Isn't it fun though?" and she splashed through the stream to have a nearer talk with her visitor.
"Earning your living!" repeated Martin; "well, I should call playing in the brook, as you seemed to be just now, any thing but that."
"Playing!" echoed Bessie, with some indignation, "I am a big girl of nine now, and I am not going to play any more; I am going to work. Don't you see these cresses?"
"Yes," said Martin, "but they're not good for much, are they?"