Little Susy's Little Servants Part 4

"My pin cus.h.i.+on, you mean. But I should be ashamed if I were you, not to know how to sew. There was little Mary Jones where I used to live; she sewed like a woman. Such st.i.tches! But then there are few children like Mary Jones."

"I thought you said she was the trial of your life," said Susy.

"Well! the child's memory!" said nurse, lifting up her hands. "You should not notice every thing I say, my dear. Now I'll tell you something. You learn to sew and you shall make a little bag to give to your mamma. Just such a bag as Mary Jones made for her mamma. Only yours shall be blue, and hers was pink. Come! that's a good girl! Your mamma will be so pleased!"

So Susy sat down again, and took a few more st.i.tches.

"The needle hurts me!" said she.

"That's because you've no thimble. I'll lend you my silver thimble--the one your aunt gave me."

So nurse wound a large piece of paper round and round Susy's finger, and crowded the thimble over the whole. It looked like a helmet on a dwarf.

Susy took one more st.i.tch, and sighed.

"I'm tired," said she. "And the thimble is so heavy!"

"Well, put your work away then," said nurse, "and when we go out I'll buy you a dear little bra.s.s thimble. But not unless you'll promise to be patient, and to try to learn."

Susy promised, but her promise cost her many tears. For her needle unthreaded, her thread broke, or got into knots, her hands were awkward and did not know how to behave, and then when she cried on her work, it made it hard to sew.

But every day, her hands grew more skillful. Finding they really _must_ learn to sew, they would not dispute about such a trifle, and you can not think how delighted Susy was to be able, one day, to carry her mamma the nice bag she had made for her.

"Thank you, darling," said her mamma. "I am very glad your little hands have made this for me, and I will keep it a great while. Why, when your aunt Laura was your age, she had made a whole quilt of bits of calico not much larger than the palm of your hand. The next thing I know, I suppose you will be writing me a little letter."

"Oh! I never could learn to write!" said Susy.

"Why not? Are not your hands just like mine? And they learned to write."

Susy smiled, and looked at her mamma's hands and then at her own, but did not have time to talk any more just then.

CHAPTER II.

For just at this moment a carriage drove up to the door, and Susy ran to the window to see who had come. She saw two gentlemen alight, and presently her mamma was called down.

"You may come with me, Susy," said she.

So they went down together, and Susy saw that one of the gentlemen had soft white hair flowing down to his shoulders. She looked at his mild, kind face with great interest, and when he placed his hand on her head, and blessed her, she felt very happy.

"Mamma, is that the Apostle John?" she whispered.

Her mamma smiled, and shook her head, and Susy sat still, and listened to what was said, without speaking, for her little tongue had learned that it must keep still when older persons were talking.

After the visitors went away, she made up for lost time, by asking several questions all in one long row.

"Who was that man? What makes his hair so white? Did you see him put his hand on my head? I liked him dearly."

"That was a very good man," said her mamma, "and I hope G.o.d will hear the prayer he made for you when he put his hand on your head."

"That's the way Jesus put his hand on the heads of little children,"

said Susy. "I wish I had been there."

"That reminds me of a sweet little hymn that I copied from a book Mrs.

Ray lent me. I must read it to you till you learn it. Come! we'll go right up stairs, and you shall hear it."

So they went up stairs, and Susy heard for the first time that beautiful hymn, beginning:

"I think when I hear that sweet story of old."

Tears came into her eyes as she listened, but they were tears of pleasure; she soon had learned the first verse, and they sat singing it together when nurse came in with Robbie, who had a small box in his hand.

"Mrs. Ray has sent Susy a box of beads," said she, "and says she must string them when she does not know what else to do."

Susy was delighted to hear this, and she flew off to find a needle and thread, so as to begin at once to string her beads. It was, however, time for their supper, and she had to wait.

She was too happy to eat much, and as soon as she could, she hastened to the window, and seated herself to begin her pleasant work. She had hardly strung a dozen beads when looking down, she saw that they had all fallen from the string.

"Oh! dear! that's because I didn't make a knot. Oh! how I wish I knew how to make knots! Nursey! won't you make a knot?"

"It's too dark to string beads," said nurse. "You'll hurt your eyes, Susy. Come! put away your beads, and go to bed."

"It doesn't hurt my eyes," said Susy. "I can see just as easy."

All of a sudden she felt two hands over her eyes.

"O papa! is that you! Please don't! I want to string my beads. See, papa! all these beads. Mrs. Ray sent them."

"Mrs. Ray was very kind," said her papa. "But my little Susy is not kind at all. She has been abusing two of those servants that G.o.d gave her.

Don't you know it is wrong to treat your eyes so?"

"I guess they didn't care," said Susy.

"I guess they did," said her papa. "And you must remember that eyes are very precious things, and be careful of them. If I should give you a little white-handled penknife--"

"O papa! I wish you would!"

"If I gave you one, would it be right for you to cut off one of your little fingers with it?"

"Why, no, papa!"

"And is it right to injure the eyes G.o.d has been so very kind as to give you?"

"No, papa. And I won't, again."

"But what are they looking so hard at my pocket for?" asked her papa, smiling.