Missy: A Novel

by Miriam Coles Harris

Missy had listened, with vexation at Eliza, but with no intention of taking up her duties, till that plaintive cry smote her heart and melted it. The poor little lonely child, with no love but the unsteady love of hirelings! She started up and stole into the nursery. The cry with which Jay flung himself into her arms made him dearer to her than ever before. He clung to her, all trembling and beating, his wet little face buried in her neck.

"You won't go away and leave me, you won't, promise me, Missy, you won't go."

"No, Jay, my own little man, I won't. Lie down; I promise you, I'll stay."

Every one else had failed him, but he still believed in Missy. So he was pacified and reassured, and after awhile lay down, holding both her hands. She let down the side of his crib, and sitting beside him, laid her head on his pillow; he put one hand on her throat, and held the other tight in one of hers, and so, after awhile, he fell asleep. But a ground-swell of sobs still heaved his breast after such a heavy storm. Missy held the little warm hand tight, and kissed him in his sleep. She had promised not to go, and she dared not move his hand from her neck, nor stir her head from the pillow for fear of waking him.

The room was still and dim, and she was very tired, by and by the troubles of the day melted into dreams, and she slept. How long, she could not tell. A light gleaming in her face aroused her; she started up in sudden consternation, for Mr. Andrews stood looking at her, in, it must be said, equal consternation. He had moved the screen from the nursery lamp, and coming up to the bed to look at his boy, had seen the not unpretty, but very unexpected picture of the two sleeping in this close embrace.

Missy's first feeling was one of anger; but surely Mr. Andrews had a right in his own nursery, and, as usual, she was in the wrong—she was where she had no business to be; her bitter vexation showed itself on her face.

"I beg your pardon," he said, stepping back, "I—I didn't know you were here."

"Jay cried so, I came in to pacify him," she said, "and he would not let me go."

"You are very kind to him," said the father earnestly.

"Not particularly," she returned, fastening up the side of the crib, and laying him softly further over on his pillow. "One doesn't like to see a child imposed upon, and Eliza was very wrong to leave him."