“Why do you roam about so, Nell? Why don’t you settle down to [!-- original location of illustration GOOD NIGHT --] something?” her mother asked, one bright, spring day.
“Oh, I am sick of everything. I have read all my books, and I hate my piano. The croquet isn’t up, and there is nobody to play with me, if it was.”
“Why don’t you find some kind of work to do?”
“That is just the trouble. There’s nothing that needs to be done; servants for every thing; and what does crocheting amount to, and plastering some little daubs of paint on some plush! Why, I believe that little Dutch girl that sells things out of her big basket, on our corner, every morning, is a good deal happier than I am. I mean to ask her sometime what makes her so.”
A few weeks more and the hot summer came on, and Nell missed the little Dutch girl on the corner. It really worried her that the bright, womanly face did not come any more, but she supposed she had moved to a better stand or perhaps left the city.
One morning Nell took a walk with her teacher; a long walk, for they found themselves outside the city, where there were open holds and every house had green grass and trees close around it.
“What a little, little house! That one with the woodbine all over it—and I do believe—yes, it really is my little Dutch girl scrubbing the steps,” and away she bounded and was soon beside the little worker.
“Oh! I’m so glad to find you again! Why don’t you come to our corner any more?”
“Baby’s been sick a long, good time,” explained Lena, wiping her hands on her apron. “Won’t you ladies please to walk in, if you please, ma’am?”