"Do stay in the house with poor ma, to-day, darling; she is very lonely," her mother would say to her, as she put back the curls from the beautiful face of her child, and kissed her cheek. One day a tear was in her eye and a sadness at her heart; for she had been thinking of the early childhood of her Harriet, when she turned from father, little brother, playthings and all, for her. Harriet seemed to understand her feelings; for instead of answering her with a spring and laugh as usual, she sat quietly down at her feet, and laid her head on her lap. Mr. Greenough came in at this moment.
"How? What does this mean, wife and Hatty?" said he.—"Playing the baby, Hat? Wife, this won't do. Harriet has your beauty; and to this I have no objections, if she has my spirits and independence. Come, Hatty; we want you to help us make hay to-day; and there are lots of butterflies and grasshoppers for you to catch. Come," he added; for the child still kept her eyes on her mother's face, as if undecided whether to go or stay. "Come, get your bonnet—no; you may go without it. You look too much like a village girl. You must get more tan."
"Shall I go, ma?" Harriet asked, still clinging to her mother's dress.
"Certainly, if pa wishes it," answered Mrs. Greenough with a strong effort to speak cheerfully.
She went, and from that hour Mrs. Greenough passively allowed her to follow her father and his laborers as she pleased; to rake hay, ride in the cart, husk corn, hunt hen's eggs, jump on the hay, play ball, prisoner, pitch quoits, throw dice, cut and saw wood, and, indeed, to run into every amusement which her active temperament demanded. She went to school when she pleased; but her father was constant in his hints that her spirits and independence were not to be destroyed by poring over books. She was generally left to do as she pleased, although she was often pleased to perpetrate deeds, for which her school-mates often asserted they would have been severely chastised. There was an expression of fun and good humor lurking about in the dimples of her fat cheeks and in her deep blue eye, that effectually shielded her from reproof. Master Smith had just been accused of partiality to her, and he walked into the school considerably taller than usual, all from his determination to punish Harriet before night. He was not long in detecting her in a rogueish act. He turned from her under the pretence of looking some urchins into silence, and said, with uncommon sternness and precision, "Harriet Greenough, walk out into the floor." Harriet jumped up, shook the hands of those who sat near her, nodded a farewell to others, and walked gaily up to the master. He dreaded meeting her eye; for he knew that his gravity would desert him in such a case. She took a position behind him, and in a moment the whole house was in an uproar of laughter. Master Smith turned swiftly about on his heel, and confronted the culprit. She only smiled and made him a most graceful courtesy. This was too much for his risibles. He laughed almost as heartily as his pupils.
"Take your seat, you, he! he! you trollop, you, he! he! and I will settle with you by and bye," he said.
She only thanked him, and then returned to her sport.
So she passed on. When sixteen, she was a very child in everything but years and form. Her forehead was high and full, but a want of taste and care in the arrangement of her beautiful hair destroyed its effect. Her complexion was clear, but sunburnt. Her laugh was musical, but one missed that tone which distinguishes the laugh of a happy feeling girl of sixteen from that of a child of mere frolic. As to her form, no one knew what it was; for she was always putting herself into some strange but not really uncouth attitude; and besides, she could never stop to adjust her dress properly.
Such was Harriet Greenough, when a cousin of hers paid them a visit on her return to the Newburyport mills. She was of Harriet's age; but one would have thought her ten years her senior, judging from her superior dignity and intelligence. Her father died when she was a mere child, after a protracted illness, which left them penniless. By means of untiring industry, and occasional gifts from her kind neighbors, Mrs. Wood succeeded in keeping her children at school, until her daughter was sixteen and her son fourteen. They then went together to Newburyport, under the care of a very amiable girl who had spent several years there. They worked a year, devoting a few hours every day to study; then returned home, and spent a year at school in their native village.
They were now on their return to the mills. It was arranged that at the completion of the present year Charles should return to school, and remain there until fitted for the study of a profession, if Jane's health was spared that she might labor for his support.