Aunt Kitty's Tales

by Maria J. McIntosh

Mrs. Scott was a very neat and careful woman, and poor as they were, she made her home quite comfortable—a great deal more comfortable than that of many people who have more money in their purses, and better furniture in their houses. Their little court-yard too was filled with pretty flowers, for Alice loved gardening, and was never so happy as when cutting her finest carnations and roses to dress her mother's parlor, and make nosegays for her young friends. And yet Alice was always happy, and so you felt she was the moment you looked at her. She was now a healthy, fine-looking child of nine years old. Her very eyes seemed to sparkle with pleasure; she never walked when she was alone, but bounded along like a young fawn. Her voice was very sweet, and was often heard, when she was with her young companions, ringing out in a gay laugh, or when she was by herself, singing some of the little hymns which her mother had taught her. Yet, gay as Alice was, her laughter was hushed, her bounding step became cautious and noiseless, and her bright eyes were full of tears in a moment, if she saw either her father or her mother suffering from any cause. When they first came to the village, Mrs. Scott was subject to very distressing attacks of pain in the head, and it was touching to see the playful Alice changed into a quiet, watchful nurse.

A year had passed away, and Mrs. Scott was healthier and happier and dear little Alice livelier than ever, when many people in our village and in the country around, and especially many children, became ill with a very dangerous disease, called scarlet fever. My little niece Harriet was one of the first who had it, and she was so ill with it that we feared she would die. As soon as she was well enough to travel, I took her to her grandfather's, about twenty miles off, for a change of air. When we left home, Mr. and Mrs. Scott and Alice were still well. Alice, who loved Harriet very much, wished greatly to see her before she went away, if only to bid her good-by, but I would not consent for fear she should take the disease. Her mother however gave her permission to walk out on the road by which we were to pass, and take one look at Harriet, as we drove by. So when we were about half a mile from home, there stood Alice by the road-side, with a bunch of flowers in her hand. As we passed she threw the flowers into the carriage and called out "Good-by, good-by; dear Harriet, I hope you will come back soon, and well."

I raised Harriet from the pillow on which she was leaning in a corner of the carriage, to the window, that she might see Alice; and as I looked at Alice's red cheeks and smiling face and lively motion, while she ran along by the side of the carriage for a few minutes, I felt sadder than ever to see Harriet so pale and weak.

Now, my little readers, if any of you have a grandfather and grandmother, and have ever gone to visit them after having been ill, you will know how very glad Harriet's grandfather and grandmother were to see her, and how anxious they were to gratify and amuse her. Harriet got well very slowly, and was obliged for some weeks to be much confined to the house, and often to suffer pain. She was a good child, and bore all this so patiently, that when at the end of six weeks we were about returning home, her grandfather gave her a gold piece, worth two dollars and a half, bidding her spend it as she liked. This, you know, was a great deal of money for a little girl, and as Harriet had never had half so much at one time, she was quite wild with delight, thinking at first that it would buy every thing for which she had ever wished. On calculation, however, she found it would take it all to buy one such large wax doll as a little girl who had lately visited her had brought with her. The wax doll she was determined to have, for she thought it by far the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and so her money was at once disposed of in her own mind.

During the first part of her ride home, Harriet talked of nothing but her doll, which I was to get from the city for her as soon as I could. She had not quite decided what would be the prettiest name for it, or the most becoming color for its dress, when we stopped at a friend's house, about eight miles from our home, where we were to rest for two or three hours. Here there was a very clever girl, a little older than Harriet, who brought out all her books and toys to amuse her. Among the books were several of those entertaining little volumes, called the Boys' and Girls' Library, which Harriet had never read. The little girl offered to lend them to her, and I allowed her to take one of them, as she promised to be very careful of it. As soon as we were in the carriage, Harriet begged me to read for her from this little book; and she was not only much amused with it, but I was able to point out to her some very useful lessons it contained.

We did not arrive at home till after sunset, and as Harriet was much fatigued, she was soon put to bed. Her room opened into mine, and I went in early in the morning to see how she was. She was already awake, and gave me no time to speak to her, for as soon as she saw me, she cried out, "Now, Aunt Kitty, I know what to do with my money."

"Why, my love," said I, "I thought you were going to buy a doll with it, like Eliza Lewis's, and you know I told you that such a doll would take it all."

"Oh yes, I know all that, Aunt Kitty, but I've something a great deal better to do with it now,—I am going to buy books with it. It will buy five volumes of the Boys' and Girls' Library; for see here, Aunt Kitty," showing me the price which was marked on a leaf of the book she had brought home the day before, "see here, this only cost fifty cents, and I've counted, and there are five times fifty cents in my two dollars and a half."

"And are you very sure," said I, "that you will always like the books better than the doll, and that when you have finished reading them you will not feel sorry for having changed your mind?"

"Oh no! I am very sure I shall not, for you know I could only play with my doll now and then, and if I kept it all to myself I should soon grow tired of it, and if I let the other girls play with it, it would soon get spoiled or broken, and I should have nothing left for my money; but it will take me a long time to read through so many new books, and when they get spoiled or torn up, if I remember what was in them, I shall still have something for my gold piece. And then you know, Aunt Kitty, you cannot play with my doll, but you can read my books."