Mrs. Molesworth - Mary - A Nursery Story for Very Little Children

“I never thought her would be so pretty,” she said. “I never thought her would be so sweet. Oh papa, her is a lubly birfday present! When her wakes up, mayn’t I kiss her?”

“Of course you may, and hold her in your arms if you are very careful,” said her father, looking very pleased. He had been very anxious for Mary to love the baby a great deal, for sometimes “next-to-the-baby” children are rather jealous and cross at being no longer the pet and the youngest. It was a very good thing he and her mamma agreed that the baby had come as a birthday present to Mary.

The idea of holding her in her own arms was so delightful that again for a moment or two Mary felt as if she could not speak.

“And what do you two fellows think of your new sister?” said papa, turning to the boys. Leigh leant over the cradle and peered in very earnestly.

“She’s something like,” he said slowly, “something like those very tiny little ducklings,” and seeing a smile on his father’s face he went on to explain, though he grew rather red, “I don’t know what makes me think that. She looks so soft and cosy, I suppose. You know the little ducklings, papa? They’re like balls of fluffy down.”

“I don’t think she’s a bit like them,” said Artie, who in his turn had been having a good examination of the baby. “I think she’s more like a very little monkey. Do you remember that tiny monkey with a pink face, that sat on the organ in the street at grandmamma’s one day, Leigh? It was like her.”

He spoke quite gravely. He had admired the monkey very much. He did not at all mean that the new baby was not pretty, and his father’s smile grew rather comical.

“See how she scroozles up her face,” he went on; “she’s just like the monkey now. It was a very nice monkey, you know, papa.”

But Mary was not pleased. She had never seen a monkey, but there was a picture of one for the letter “M” in what she called her “animal book,” and she did not think it pretty at all.

“No,” she said, “no, Artie, her’s not a’ inch like a monkey. Her’s booful , just booful, and monkeys isn’t.”

Then suddenly she gave a little cry.

“Oh papa, dear, do look,” she called out, “her’s openin’ her eyes. I never ’amembered her could open her eyes,” and Mary nearly danced with delight.

Yes indeed, Miss Baby was opening her eyes and more than her eyes – her little round mouth opened too, and she began to cry – quite loud!

Mary had heard babies cry before now, of course, but somehow everything about this baby was too wonderful. She did not seem at all like the babies Mary saw sometimes when she was out walking; she was like herself and not anything else.

Mary’s face grew red again when she heard the baby cry.

“Oh papa, dear,” she said. “Has her hurt herself?”

“No, no, she’s all right,” said papa. But all the same he did not take baby out of her cot – papas are very fond of their babies of course, but I do not think they like them quite so much when they cry – instead of that, he turned towards the door leading into the next room.

“Nurse,” he said in a low voice, but nurse heard him.

“Yes, sir,” said a voice, in reply, and then came another surprise for Mary. The person who came quickly into the room was not “nurse” at all, but somebody quite different, though she had a nice face and was very neatly dressed. Who could she be? The world did seem very upside down this birthday morning to Mary!

“Nurse,” she repeated to her father, with a very puzzled look.

“Yes, dear,” said the stranger, “I’m come to be baby’s nurse. You see she needs so much taking care of just now while she’s still so very little – your nurse wouldn’t have time to do it all.”

“No,” said Mary, “I think it’s a good plan,” and she gave a little sigh of satisfaction. She loved the baby dearly already and she would have been quite ready to give her anything – any of her toys or pretty things, if they would have pleased her – but still she did feel it would have been rather hard for her nurse to be so busy all day that she could not take care of Artie and her as usual.

The strange nurse smiled. Mary was what people call an “old-fashioned” child, and one of her funny expressions was saying anything that she liked was “a good plan.” She stood staring with all her eyes as the nurse cleverly lifted baby out of the cot and laid her on her knee in a comfortable way, so that she left off crying. But her eyes were still open, and Mary came close to look at them.

“Is her going to stay awake now?” she said. “Perhaps she will, for a little while,” said the nurse. “But such very tiny babies like to sleep a great deal.”

Mary stood quite still. She felt as if she could stay there all day just looking at the baby – every moment she found out some new wonder about her.

“Her’s got ears,” she said at last.

“Of course she has,” said the strange nurse. “You wouldn’t like her to be deaf?”

“Baby,” said Mary, but baby took no notice.

“Her it deaf,” she went on, looking very disappointed. “Her doesn’t look at me when I call her.”

“No, my dear,” said the nurse. “She hasn’t learnt yet to understand. It will take a good while. You will have to be very patient. Little babies have a great, great deal to learn when they first come into this world. Just think what a great many things you have learnt yourself since you were a baby, Miss Mary.”

Mary looked at her. She had never thought of this.

“I wasn’t never so little, was I?” she said.

“Yes, quite as little. And you couldn’t speak, or stand, or walk, or do anything except what this little baby does.”

This was very strange to think of. Mary thought about it for a moment or two without speaking. Then she was just going to ask some more questions, when she heard her father’s voice.

“Mary,” he said, “mamma is awake and you may come in and get a birthday kiss. Leigh and Artie are waiting for you to have the first kiss as you’re the queen of the day.”

“I’d like there to be two queens,” said Mary, as she trotted across to her father. “’Cos of baby coming on my birfday. When will her have a birfday of hers own?” she went on, stopping short on her way when this thought came into her head.

Her father laughed as he picked her up.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a whole year for that,” he said. “Next year, if all’s well, your birthday and baby’s will come together.”

“Oh, that will be nice,” said Mary, but then for a minute or two she forgot all about baby, as her father lifted her on to her mother’s bed to get the birthday kiss waiting for her.

“My pet,” said her mother, “are you pleased with your presents, and are you having a happy day?” Mary put up her little hand and stroked her mother’s forehead, on which some little curls of pretty brown were falling.

“Mamma dear,” she said, “your hair isn’t very tidy. Shall I call Larkin to brush it smoove?” and she began to scramble off the bed to go to fetch the maid.

“What a little fidget you are,” said her mother. “Never mind about my hair. I want you to tell me what you think of your little sister.”

“I think her sweet ,” said Mary. “And her curls is somefin like yours, mamma. But Leigh says hers like little ducks, and Artie says hers like a pink monkey.”

Mamma began to laugh at this, quite loud. But just then the nurse put her head in at the door.

“Baby’s opening her eyes so wide, Miss Mary,” she said. “Do come and look at her, and you, Master Leigh and Master Artie too. You shall come and see your mamma again in the afternoon.”