Joanna Mathews - Bessie on Her Travels

“I’m real sorry for both of them,” said Bessie. “You know, Maggie, we said we would like to be kind to him if we could, ’cause he had such a stupid time; and I s’pose he would be just as pleased if we did a kind thing to his girl.”

“Yes,” said Maggie: “if he’s a dutiful father, he would. I was thinking we might give her a doll to amuse herself with.”

“Not one of ours?” said Bessie, holding Margaret Colonel Horace fast, as if she thought she was to be taken from her at once.

“Oh, no! We never could give up these dolls,” said Maggie. “We love them too much; and besides the Colonel gave them to us, so it would never do. But then, you know, we have some of our own money with us; and I thought when the steamer stopped going and we come to that part of the world that is land again, maybe we might find a toy-store and buy her a doll of her own.”

“Yes,” said Bessie. “Papa, do they have stores in Savannah?”

“Plenty,” answered papa, “and doubtless we shall find a toy-store without trouble.”

“And we may buy Lucy a doll, may we not, papa?” said Maggie. “You see, it’s pretty hard for a child to have no relations, or dolls, or other advantages, except only a father.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Bradford, laughing, “if you choose to spend your money to give pleasure to this little girl, who is so poorly off, you may certainly do so.”

The children were delighted with their papa’s consent; and when Belle and Lily heard of the plan, they begged Maggie and Bessie to let them join in giving this pleasure to the poor child who had so few enjoyments. Maggie and Bessie readily agreed: and it was settled that when they reached Savannah, one of the first things to be done should be the purchase of a doll for Lucy Waters; for such was the name of the little girl.

Our four young friends were not the only children on the steamer with whom Lucy had something to do, as you shall hear.

“Father,” she said, as she sat upon his knee that evening, while he was off duty, “there are some nice little girls on board, this trip.”

“Humph!” was all the answer she received; for, in spite of Lucy’s assertion that her father talked enough to her, he did not throw away too many words, even upon her: but Lucy was used to his way, and did not mind it, for she knew he loved her dearly.

“There are,” she insisted. “One of them let me take her doll, and it can turn its head; and she let me do it, and move its arms too. And another one was kind to me when some other children said bad things to me. There they are, father: don’t you see them?” and she pointed to where Maggie and Bessie were sitting, with their father and mother.

“Thought so,” said Waters, who was not really surly, but only silent and unsociable.

“Why how, father! Did you know about it?”

“No,” replied her father, “but thought like enough it was them when you said some spoke nice to you. Seem like kindly, loving, little souls.”

“There are two more nice ones, that play with ’em,” said Lucy.

“Humph!” said Waters again, “one of ’em is a saucy mischief, I guess.”

“Oh!” said Lucy, “I know which one you mean. They call her Lily. I didn’t like her so much at first; but I do now, ’cause she slapped a boy’s face who said hateful things to me.”

If Lucy imagined her father would ask what the boy had said, she was mistaken; for he smoked away without a word more. But the memory of her wrongs was too great to be borne in silence, and presently she said, —

“Are not my clothes very nice, father?”

“Nice as I can afford, anyhow,” he answered without taking his pipe from his lips.

“I told that boy and his sisters they were as nice as anybody’s,” said Lucy; “but maybe they’re not.” And taking off her bonnet, she turned it round and round, eying it rather mournfully. “I don’t think this kind of a hat is so nice as those little girls’, father; nor this long apron so nice as their short frocks. I wonder if I couldn’t make ’em look better, so folks wouldn’t laugh at me.”

Now, I think Waters was somewhat mistaken when he said Lucy’s clothes were as nice as he could afford. He had good wages, and his little girl did not want for what was necessary to make her neat and comfortable: but he did not know how to dress her; and the enormous shaker bonnet, which would have fitted a grown woman; and long, scant apron which came to her feet, – cost no less, perhaps more, than the short frock and round straw hat, which would have been more convenient and suitable for a girl of her age.

Poor Lucy knew she looked very different from most children of her own size; but, although she kept herself very tidy, she did not see how she was to remedy this difficulty. She was a funny little figure, certainly: more so than she was aware of; but it had never troubled her much until this afternoon, when some rude but well-dressed boys and girls, who would have been very indignant if they had been told they were not half so well-bred and polite as the engineer’s little daughter, had annoyed her very much.

Maggie and Bessie had noticed these children, but, seeing how rough and boisterous they were, had rather avoided them. But that afternoon, while they, with Belle and Lily, were talking to Lucy, and asking her some questions about her homeless, seafaring life, these boys and girls came up to them.

Not having at that moment any dispute to settle among themselves, they were ready to band together against any one else; and Lucy presented a tempting mark for attack.

“Ho! you seem to have picked up a fine acquaintance there!” said Arthur Lathrop, the eldest of the brothers.

“She is dressed in the last fashion,” said Charlotte, his sister, with a scornful look at Lucy.

“Quite the style,” joined in the other boy. “You brought your bonnet from the Paris Exposition: did you not, ma’am?”

Poor Lucy had not the least idea what the Paris Exposition was; but she knew very well that these unkind children were making fun of her, and she drew back with a hurt and angry look.

“Couldn’t you give my sisters the pattern of that lovely bonnet?” said Arthur.

“And of that outside toggery too,” said William, “whatever its name is. Not being used to such an elegant style of dress, I don’t know what to call it.”

“You ought to be ashamed to talk so,” said Bessie, indignantly. “She’s a nice, good, little girl, who tries to be a help to every one; and if her clothes are not so very pretty, she can’t help it. It is better to have good clothes and be bad, than to have bad clothes and be good,” added the little girl, saying just the opposite of what she intended.

But no one noticed her mistake. The Lathrops were all too intent on their victim, the other little ones too full of sympathy and indignation, to pay much heed to a choice of words.

“Well,” returned William, provokingly, “don’t we say she is the most stylish, fashionable young lady we have seen this long time. For me, I am struck dumb with admiration.”

“To be sure,” said Charlotte, “didn’t you say that bonnet was the latest fashion from the Exposition?”

“Or from Noah’s ark: which is it? Pray tell us, miss,” put in Arthur with a loud laugh.

“Let her be, you bad boys,” said Belle.

“She looks a great deal nicer than any of you,” said Lily, too anxious to take up Lucy’s defence to think of the exact truth of her statement.

“Oh! of course, of course,” retorted Arthur. “She is quite a model. I propose we all ask our mothers to buy us just such clothes. Don’t leave us, Miss Elegance;” and he caught hold of poor Lucy, who had turned to run away.

“Let her be,” said Lily.