Douglas Amanda M.
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home
CHAPTER XIII
FROM GRAY SKIES TO BLUE
They were pretty poor, to be sure, – poor as in the hardest of times. There were the chickens, and Granny could make a bit of broth for Hal; but Kit and Charlie raced like deers, and had appetites. After Granny bought them clothes and shoes, the funds were rather low. Hal guessed at it all, but Granny never made any complaints.
He had begun a tidy in red-and-white diamond-shaped blocks; but it seemed to grow upon his hands; and one day when Dot called it a beautiful bedcrilt, for her tongue still had a few kinks in it, a new idea crept into his brain.
"Do you think it would make a pretty spread?" he asked Mrs. Howard rather timidly, during a call.
"Why, it would, to be sure, and so serviceable! It is a bright idea, Hal."
"Do you suppose I could sell it?"
"If you want to – yes."
"I can't do any thing else," said Hal with a sigh; "and if I have to stay here all winter."
For Hal's back was so weak that he could only be bolstered up in the bed, and he had not walked a step yet.
Mrs. Howard thought a moment, then said, —
"Finish it Hal, and I will see that it is sold."
So Hal went on hopefully. Granny bewailed the fact that she had done nothing all the fall to help along. They missed their allowance from Joe; but they had heard from him in his usual glowing and exuberant fashion.
Mrs. Howard took a trip around Madison one morning, and held sundry mysterious conferences with some of her neighbors, returning home quite well pleased.
"I am so glad I thought of it!" she said to her husband; and he answered, "So am I, my dear."
One afternoon early in December she went over to Mrs. Kenneth's. Dot had been clearing up under Hal's instructions, and they looked neat as a pin. After she found that her visitor intended to remain, Granny put on a fresh calico dress and a clean cap; and they had a nice old-fashioned time talking, which Hal enjoyed exceedingly.
Mrs. Howard had brought a basket full of various luxuries, – some nice cold tongue, and part of a turkey, besides jellies and cake. Quite a little feast, indeed.
Hal begged them to have tea in the best room, where he lay; and he enjoyed it almost as much as if he could have sat up to the table. Kit and Charlie were delighted with the feast.
Then they settled every thing again, and Granny stirred the fire. The wind whistled without, but within it was bright and cheerful. Hal felt very happy indeed. It seemed as if God's strong arms were about him, helping him to bear the weariness, as he had been strengthened to bear pain.
Presently there was a tramping up the path, and a confusion of voices.
"Some one is coming;" and Hal raised himself. "I am almost sorry – we were having such a nice, quiet time."
A knock at the door, which Granny opened. Kit, in the glowing chimney-corner, rubbed his eyes; and it would have been hard to tell which was the sleepiest, he or the old gray cat.
"O-o-h!" exclaimed Charlie; and then she darted to Hal. "A whole crowd of 'em!"
A crowd, sure enough. It was something of a mystery to know how they were going to get in that small place. There was Dr. and Mrs. Meade, Mr. Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and the boys, all the Terrys, – indeed, half Madison, Hal thought.
Mrs. Howard laughed a little at Hal's puzzled face.
"Oh! – I guess" —
Granny in the other room was quite overcome. Parcels and bags and boxes, shaking of hands, and clattering of tongues.
"It isn't exactly Christmas, Hal," began Mr. Morris; "but Santa Claus does sometimes lose his reckoning. So we thought we'd all drop in."
"And give me a surprise-party," said Hal.
"Exactly. Why, you look quite bright, my boy!"
Hal was bright enough then, with cheeks like roses, and lustrous eyes.
Dr. Meade sat him up in the bed. One and another came to shake hands, and say a pleasant word; and in a few moments the whole group were laughing and talking. There was skating already over on the pond, the boys told him; they were going to have a Christmas exhibition; Jim Terry had received a letter from Joe; and all the small gossip that sounds so pleasant when one is shut within doors.
Then Mrs. Howard brought out the bedspread. None of the boys laughed at Hal, you may be sure; and the older people thought it quite wonderful. Mrs. Morris declared that she'd really like to have it.
"It is for sale," said Hal with a little flush.
"Let's take shares!" exclaimed Sam. "Now's your chance, mother: how much will you give?"
"A right good plan," returned Mrs. Meade.
After a little discussion they adopted it. There were twenty-six people who subscribed a dollar; and then the slips of paper were arranged for drawing. The younger portion were considerably excited; and Hal's face was in a glow of interest.
So they began. One after another took his or her chance; and, when it was through, they all opened their slips of paper, looking eagerly at each other.
Clara Terry blushed scarlet; and Sam's quick eyes caught the unusual brilliancy. For the cream of the affair was, that Clara expected to be married in a few weeks.
Dr. Meade guessed also, and then they had a good laugh. Hal was delighted.
"It went to the right one," said Mr. Morris. "So much towards housekeeping, Clara."
"I shall always think of Joe as well as you," she said in a soft whisper to Hal, holding the thin fingers a moment.
After that they had a pleasant time singing. Hal was very fond of vocal music. It seemed to him about the happiest night of his life. Then the crowd began to disperse.
"I have thought of something new, Hal," said Dr. Meade. "I sent to New York this morning for a small galvanic battery, to try if electricity will not help you. We shall have you around yet: do not be discouraged."
"Everybody is so kind" – and Hal's voice quivered. "This has been a lovely surprise party."
After they were gone Charlie began to count up the spoils; and every exclamation grew longer and louder. There was a large ham, a fine turkey, tea and coffee and butter, flour, rice, farina, cake and biscuit, a bag of apples, and some cans of fruit.
"We shall live like kings," said Granny, with a little sound in her voice that might have been a sob or a laugh. "And only this morning I was a wondering how we should get along."
"And twenty-six dollars. Why, it is almost as good as being a minister, and having a donation-party."
"God doesn't forget us, you see," said Hal with great thankfulness.
He finished the spread a few days afterward, and sent it to Miss Clara; and then Mrs. Meade brought him the materials to make her one.
The fracture had united; but there seemed such a terrible weakness of the muscles in Hal's back, that Dr. Meade had become rather apprehensive. But, after using electricity a few weeks, there was an improvement. And one day Hal balanced himself upon two crutches.
"That's red hot!" ejaculated Charlie.
"O Charlie! worthy follower of Joe, what will you do when you get to be a young lady?"
"Oh, dear! I wish I didn't have to be one;" and Charlie began to cry. "I'll wear a big stone on top of my head."
"I am afraid it is too late. You are as tall as Granny now."
Hal gained slowly. All this time he was thinking what he should do? for he had a presentiment that he might never be very strong again. No more working around on farms; and, though there were some sedentary trades in cities, he would meet with no chance to attain to them. So he must have the green-house.
By spring he was able to go about pretty well. But he looked white as a ghost, quite unlike the round rosy Hal of other days.
"Kit," said he, "you'll have to be my right-hand man this summer. Maybe by another Christmas we might have the violin."
"O Hal! I'd work from morning till night," and the eager eyes were luminous.
"Well, we'll see."
Charlie was seized with a helpful fit also. After the garden was ploughed, they all planted and hoed and weeded; and, as it was an early season, they had some quite forward vegetables.
One day Hal went over to Salem, and invested a few dollars in tuberoses, besides purchasing some choice flower-seeds. Then he stopped into a small place where he had noticed cut-flowers, and began to inquire whether they ever bought any.
"All I can get," said the man. "Flowers are coming to be the rage. People think they can't have weddings or funerals without them."
"But you want white ones mostly?"
"White ones for funerals and brides. There are other occasions, though, when colored ones are worth twice as much, and as much needed."
"You raise some?" said Hal.
"All I can. I have a small green-house. Come in and see it. Did you think of starting in the business?"
Hal colored, and cleared his voice of a little tremble.
"I believe I shall some time," he said.
The green-house was not very large, to be sure, now quite empty, as the flowers were out of doors.
"I wonder how much such a place would cost?" Hal asked with some hesitation.
"About a thousand dollars," replied the man, eying it rather critically. "Have you had any experience with flowers?"
"Not much;" and Hal sighed. A thousand dollars! No, he could never do any thing like that.
"The best way would be to study a year or two with a florist."
"I suppose so."
Hal was quite discouraged, for that appeared out of his power as well.
"There is not so great a demand for flowers in summer, you know; but in winter they are scarce, and bring good prices. Still, some of the choicer kinds sell almost any time; fine rosebuds, heliotrope, and such things."
After a little further talk, Hal thanked the man, and said good-by with a feeling of disappointment. A hot-house was quite beyond his reach.
However, he did mean to have some early vegetable beds for another spring – if nothing happened, he said to himself, remembering his last summer's plans.
Not that he was idle, either. He did a good deal in the lighter kinds of gardening. The new houses required considerable in the way of adornment; and Dr. Meade spoke a good word for him whenever opportunity offered. He had so much taste, besides his extravagant love for flowers; and then he had studied their habits, the soil they required, the time of blossoming, parting, or resetting. And it seemed as if he could make any thing grow. Slips of geranium, rose-cuttings, and indeed almost every thing, flourished as soon as he took it in hand.
The new railroad brought them in direct and easy communication with another city, Newbury. Hal took a journey thither one day, and found a florist and nurseryman who conducted operations on quite an extensive scale. But still it was expensive in the start. He had thought of mortgaging the place; but the little money he could raise in that way would hardly be sufficient; and then, if he was not prosperous, they might lose their little home.
At midsummer they heard some wonderful news about Florence. Mrs. Osgood wrote that she was going to marry very fortunately, a gentleman of wealth and position. She sent love to them, but she was very much engrossed; and Mrs. Osgood said they must excuse her not writing. She enlarged considerably upon Florence's brilliant prospect, and appeared to take great pleasure in thinking she had fitted her for the new position.
"Oh!" said Granny with a sigh, "we've lost her now. She will be too rich and grand ever to come back to us."
"I don't know," returned Hal. "She did owe Mrs. Osgood a good deal of gratitude; and it was right for her to be happy and obedient when she was having so much done for her. But now she may feel free" —
"She has forgotten us, Hal: at least, she doesn't want to remember;" and Granny wiped her eyes.
"I can't quite believe it. She had a good heart, and she did love us. But maybe it's best anyway. We have been unfortunate" —
Hal's voice trembled a little. Granny rocked to and fro, her old method of composing her mind when any thing went wrong. And, though she could not bear to blame Flossy, there was a soreness and pain in the old heart, – a little sting of ingratitude, if she had dared to confess it.
"Hal," said Dr. Meade one day, "they are going to start a new school over at the cross-roads. It's a small place, and probably there will not be more than twenty or thirty scholars, – some of the mill-children. If you would like to teach it, I am pretty sure that I could get it for you."
"Oh, if I could!" and Hal's eyes were all alight.
"To be sure you can. The salary is very small" – and Dr. Meade made a long pause.
"Even a little would help along," was Hal's reply, his heart beating with a strange rapidity.
"There can't be any appropriation made for it, you see, as there will be no election till spring. But four hundred dollars have been subscribed, and the committee had a fancy that they might get a lady for that."
"I'd take it," said Hal. Four hundred dollars looked like quite a fortune to him.
"It may get up to four hundred and fifty, though I would not like to promise. It is a small sum."
"But there's always Saturday to yourself, and nights and mornings," was Hal's hopeful reply.
"Well, I will propose you, then. I shall be on the examining committee."
"How kind you are!" and Hal's smile was most grateful.
Still Hal was in so much doubt about his good fortune that he didn't say a word to Granny until the examination was over and he was sure of the appointment.
"It's just royal, isn't it?" and his eyes danced with delight. "I was wondering what we should do this winter, when there would be no gardening, unless I went to work in one of the mills."
"And you'd like this better? O Hal! it does seem as if the good God was watching over us, and always sent something along in the right time."
"He does, Granny, I am sure."
"For, when we were nearly out last winter, there was that splendid surprise-party. I never can get over it, Hal. And your bewtiful quilt, that I don't believe another boy in the world could have done. O Hal! you're such a comfort!"
And Granny wiped her poor old eyes.
The first pea-vines were pulled up; and then Hal began to prepare for his spring bed. It was vacation; and Charlie and Kit went into the experiment with a great deal of zeal. First Hal dug two trenches about twelve feet long, and four feet apart. He laid in these the stones the children brought in a wagon that he had manufactured for Dot a long while before. He piled them up like a wall, sifted sand between them, and then banked up the outside, making one edge considerably higher than the other. Around it all, at the top, he put a row of planking about twelve inches high, and fixed grooves for the sashes to slide across. Then he lowered the ground inside, and enriched it with manure, making quite a little garden-spot.
Charlie wanted to have something planted right away; and she did put in surreptitiously some peas, morning-glories, and a few squash-seed.
"I don't know but we might make another," said Hal, surveying it with a good deal of pride.
"Oh, do!" exclaimed Charlie. "It's such fun!"
Kit didn't mind, if Hal would only tell him a story now and then. Mozart's childhood that he had read in a stray copy of an old magazine, fragments of Mendelssohn, and all the floating incidents he could recall of Ole Bull. When these were exhausted, Hal used to draw a little upon his imagination. They had a wonderful hero named Hugo, who was stolen by gypsies when he was a little boy, and wandered around in the German forest for years, meeting with various adventures, and always playing on a violin to solace himself when he was cold, or tired, or hungry, or beaten.
And, though Hal often declared that he couldn't think of any thing more, Kit pleaded so wistfully with his luminous blue eyes and soft voice, that Hugo would be started upon his travels again.
When the frames were done, Hal went to see Mr. Sherman, the carpenter at Madison, to find what the sashes would cost.
"There's an odd lot up in the loft," he said to the boy. "They are old-fashioned; and nobody seems to want any thing of that kind, except now and then for a kitchen. I'll sell 'em cheap, if you can make 'em answer."
So they were sent down to the Kenneths. Hal worked over them a few days, and found that he could make them serviceable, only there would not be quite enough. He was very handy; and soon fitted them in their places.
"Now, that's what I call smart," exclaimed Mr. Sherman. "Why, Hal! you'd make a good carpenter. Tell you what I'll do. I'm in an awful hurry; and, if you'll come over and work for me a spell, we will quit square."
Hal was delighted, and accepted at once.
"How lucky it all comes round, Granny!" he said in a gratified tone. "And I've been thinking" —
"I'll be bound it's a bright idea;" and Granny gave her little chirruping laugh.
"I was considering about the loom-room, Granny. You'll never weave any more carpets; it's too hard work: and then Mr. Higgins wants to set up in the business. He asked me about our loom the other day."
"No, I sha'n't never weave no more;" and Granny sighed, not at the confusion of negatives, but at the knowledge that old things were passing away.
"And it would make such a beautiful flower-room, lying to the south and west!"
Joe would have said, "What! the loom?" But dear, rollicking Joe was not there to catch anybody tripping in absence of mind.
"So it would. Yes, you shall have it, Hal."
For Granny would have given him her two eyes, if it would have done him any good, and been satisfied to be led about by a dog and a string all the rest of her life.
They ran up stairs to survey. The afternoon sun was shining in at the windows, covering half the floor.
"Oh, it would be splendid! We can put up a little stove here; and I can have it for a kind of study besides. And a room full of flowers!"
The tears fairly stood in Hal's eyes.
There was not much time to lose; for in ten days school would begin. And now Hal considered what he must do.
The windows came almost down to the floor, the ceiling being low. But it would not do to have all the flowers stand on a level, as the sun would not reach them alike. And then a brilliant idea occurred to Hal.
He went over to Mr. Sherman's, and gathered some pieces of joist that had been sawed off, and thrown by as nearly useless. He found eight that he made of a length, about three feet high, and bespoke a number of rough hemlock-boards. Out of these he made a sort of counter, with the joists for support; and then, nailing a piece all round, he had quite a garden-bed. This was to stand back from the windows, and have slips and various seeds planted in it. Charlie and Kit helped bring up the soil to fill it.
Then Hal bought, for a trifle, a lot of old butter-tubs and firkins that Mr. Terry was not sorry to be rid of. He sawed them down just the height he wanted; and they made very good flower-pots for some of the larger plants. They were so beautiful, that it would be a shame to leave them out to perish in the cold blasts.
"And somehow they seem just like children to me," he said, his brown eyes suffused with tenderness.
On the last Saturday he cast up his accounts, and took a small inventory.
"We shall have potatoes and vegetables for winter; and we have a barrel of flour, and a hundred of meal, besides lots of corn for the chickens; then my salary will be a little more than thirty-six dollars a month, counting eleven months; and fifty dollars for our poultry."
"Why, we'll be as rich as kings!" was Granny's delighted reply. "You're a wonderful boy, Hal!"
"And if I could sell some flowers! Anyhow, there will be the spring things. It does look a little like prosperity, Granny."
"I'm so thankful!" and Granny twisted up her apron in pure gratitude.
"Charlie had better go to school again. I wish she could learn to be a teacher; for she never will like to sew."
"No," replied Granny, with a solemn shake of the head.
"And she is getting to be such a large girl! Well, I suppose something will come. It has to all of us."
CHAPTER XIV
A FLOWER-GARDEN IN DOORS
Hal went to school bright and early the first Monday in September. It was about a mile to the place called the "Cross-roads," because from there the roads diverged in every direction. An old tumble-down house had been put in tolerable order, and some second-hand desks and benches arranged in the usual fashion. Just around this point, there was quite a nest of cottages belonging to the mill workmen.
The children straggled in shyly, eying the new master. Rather unkempt, some of them, and with not very promising faces, belonging to the poorer class of German and English; then others bright and tidy, and brimming over with mirthful smiles.
By ten o'clock sixteen had assembled. Hal gave them a short address, made a few rules, and attempted to classify them. They read and spelled a little, at least those who were able, when the bell on the factory rang out the hour of noon.
Three new ones came after dinner. Hal labored faithfully; but it was a relief to have the session close.
Before the week ended, however, the prospect became more inspiriting. There were twenty-three scholars, and some whom it would be a pleasure to teach. But, after all, it was not as delightful as working among the flowers, – the dear, beautiful children who gave only fragrance and loveliness continually.
He had been so tired every night, that he could do nothing but rest; and so he was glad to have Saturday come.
"It seems early to take them in," he said, surveying the garden so full of glory. "But there is a good deal to do; and I shall have only one day in the week."
Kit took the wheelbarrow, and trundled off to the woods for some more good soil; for Hal had to be economical, since he could not afford to buy every thing. They were out of debt, and had a little money, – very little indeed; but there were some pears and grapes to sell. Hal's Concord and Rogers hybrid had done beautifully; and two of the new-comers in Madison had offered to take all he had, at ten cents a pound.
"I could get more in the city," he said; "but there would be the time and trouble of going. And grapes are heavy too: it doesn't take many bunches to weigh a pound; and ten pounds come to a dollar."
But on this day he went at his roses. He had obtained quite a number of slips of hybrid monthlies, mostly tea-roses; and they were doing nicely. Some had blossomed once, and others were just showing bud. These he meant to transplant to his bed up stairs. Careful and patient, he took up the most of them so nicely, that I don't believe they knew they were moved, until they began to look around for their companions.
Dot ran up stairs and down, and was most enthusiastic.
"It will be so lovely to have a garden in the house!" was her constant ejaculation.
By noon he had all the small roses in, – five white ones, four pink, and about a dozen of different shades of deep velvety red. In this soil he had used an abundance of powdered charcoal. Then came half a dozen young heliotropes.
"Now, I am going to save the rest of the space, and shall plant sweet-alyssum and candytuft, and some mignonette. I guess we have done about enough for one day," he said to Granny and Dot.
Charlie and Kit were lolling under the trees, resting from their labors. Now and then they had a merry outburst; but Charlie had grown strangely quiet. She would sit lost in thought for hours together, unless some one spoke to her; and then she would take to reading in the same absorbed manner.
"Hal," she said one evening, "what do you know of drawing?"
"A little more than the old woman who could not tell a cow from a rosebud;" and Hal smiled with quiet humor.
"I wish some one would teach me!"
"They do not have any drawing at school?"
"No, only at the academy. Belle Hartman is learning; but I don't care any thing about flowers and such."
Faces and grotesque situations were Charlie's passion. She could see the ludicrous side so quickly!
"You might practise at home, evenings."
"But paper costs a good deal. Oh, I wish I had some money!"
"Well Charlie, be patient. Something may come around by and by."
"Oh, dear!" and Charlie sighed. "I wish some one would come along and adopt me; but then I'm not handsome, like Flossy. I suppose she is having a splendid time. It seems to me that she might write just a little word."
Hal thought so too. As the months went on, he began to feel bitterly disappointed. Ah! if they could but see her once, – their beautiful Florence.
Through the course of the month Hal managed to get his flowers in very nice order, – several fuchsia that were in splendid bloom, two large heliotropes, an elegant and thrifty monthly carnation, and a salvia that was a glory in itself. But alas! that drooped and withered: so Hall trimmed it down. Besides this, some rose and balm geraniums, a tub full of callas, and ten of his tuberoses, that he had saved for winter blossoming. The other two had been a source of untold comfort to him. Then he had an exquisite safrano, and two chromatilla roses.
"Why it's quite a green-house," he said delightedly. "Now, if I can only make them blossom all winter!"
The first spare Saturday he went over to Salem to see Mr. Thomas. He was rather diffident, and did not like to explain his economical arrangements, but said that he was likely to have some flowers for sale. Mr. Thomas took him through his green-house again; and, though there were a great many more plants, Hal thought he could show almost as much bloom.
"I'll take your flowers," he promised, "provided you do not have too many, and if we could manage it this way: sometimes I receive a large order nearly a week beforehand, and I could let you know, in order that you might bring me all you had which were really fine. And, to be frank with you, I cannot afford to pay as much as you might get at Newbury or New York."
"I should like to know some of the prices," Hal remarked.
"It depends a good deal upon the demand and the season; but prices never vary a great deal."
They went round, and Hal learned a good deal in the course of his tour.
"Do you know of any place in Newbury where I could dispose of flowers?" he asked.
"There is a Mr. Kirkman, – one brother keeps a confectionery, and the other supplies flowers. But perhaps I may be able to do as well by you. However, I will give you his card."
Hal and Mr. Thomas parted very good friends; and the florist gave him some valuable advice.
"That fellow will succeed," he said to himself, watching Hal's retreating figure. "His whole soul is in the flowers; and he blushes over them as if they were a sweetheart. Looks pale and delicate, though."
Truth to tell, Hal had been working pretty hard. The school was a great tax upon him; and the labor with his plants had been severe. Kit and Granny tried to save him all they could in the way of getting in winter vegetables, and looking after the chickens.
Ten days after his visit to Salem, he received a little note from Mr. Thomas on this wise.
"Bring me on Thursday morning, if you have them, three dozen roses, assorted colors, heliotrope, and fine sprays of fuchsia, if yours are still in bloom."
"F. Thomas."
Hal was delighted. Through September they had managed to get along on the proceeds of their garden, and the fruit; but his first month's pay had to go for clothes. It almost broke Granny's heart to take it.
"Why, I shall earn some more!" Hal exclaimed with his gay laugh. "It is just what it is for, Granny, to spend. I'm thankful to be able to earn it."
It was the middle of October now; and there had been some severe frost already. Tender out-doors plants were a mass of blackened ruins.
"You will have to go over for me, Charlie," said Hal, "because I cannot leave school. The stage starts at nine."
Charlie was in ecstasies. She rose by daylight on Thursday morning, to curl her hair, Kit said; and could hardly wait for Hal to cut and pack the flowers.
"I am sure I shall be left!" she declared twenty times at least.
Hal thought of it all the way to school. It seemed different from any other earnings, and gave him an exquisite pleasure. His own lovely darlings, his dream actually coming to pass.
Charlie was superbly generous, and left the stage at the Cross-roads, when she might have ridden half a mile farther.
The children were just being dismissed: so she rushed in full of excitement.
"O Hal! he said they were lovely, and the carnations magnificent. He wondered how you raised them. They were a great deal prettier than his."
Hal blushed like a girl. He had sent the carnations at a venture.
"And here's the bill and the money."
Charlie was as proud as if it had been her own. Hal's fingers trembled as he opened it. There they all were: —
"Oh!" exclaimed Hal with a glad cry: "it's just splendid! And he liked them all?"
"Yes. There's going to be a great wedding in Salem. Such hosts and hosts of flowers! And Jim Street took me for fifteen cents!"
"So there's more than three dollars profit," Hal returned. "Now you must run home, Charlie, and get some dinner. I have not enough for two."
"I don't see why I can't stay. I should like to see your school, Hal, when all the children are in."
"But Granny will be troubled. Yes, you had better go, Charlie. You have been so good this morning, that you must not spoil it all. And then she'll be glad to hear."
Charlie went reluctantly. Granny was overjoyed The three dollars looked as large to her as a hundred would have to many a one.
Hal could hardly wait until four o'clock. He hurried home, and ran up stairs; but the poor flowers had been shorn of their crown of glory.
"I can't bear to look at 'em," said Granny with a quiver in her voice. "The poor dear things, that seemed jest like human creeturs! I used to talk to 'em every time I came in."
"But they'll soon be lovely again; and it pleases me so much to think that I can make a little money. I shall have the green-house some day; and you won't have any thing to do but walk round in it like a queen."
Granny smiled. Every plan of Hal's was precious to her.
The heliotrope appeared to be the better for the pruning; and some of the tuberoses shot up a tall spike for buds.
Then Hal had a few demands from the neighbors round. Mr. Thomas's next call was early in November, when he asked Hal to bring all the flowers that were available. It being Saturday morning, he went in with them himself, and became the happy recipient of five dollars and a quarter. Then he took a ramble in a bookstore, and, being attracted by the first few pages of "Charles Auchester," purchased the book.
