Poppy's Presents Part 6

'"Ay, doctor," I says one day, when he had little Jack in his arms, and was saying what a pretty boy he was--"Ay, doctor," I says, "but look at _my_ child," and I held up little Jemmy. "_He's_ the beauty now, isn't he, doctor?"

'"You're very fond of that boy, aren't you?" says doctor.

'"Fond of him! Why, doctor," I says, "I love him till I often think I could go bare-foot all my life and live on bread and water if it would do him a bit of good."

'"Take care you don't love him too much," says doctor, looking quite grave; "folks mustn't make idols even of their own bairns. Don't be offended, missis," he says, "but it doesn't do to set your heart too much on anything, not even on your own little lad: you might lose him, you know."

'Well, I was huffy with doctor after that; I was a bit put out, and I says, "Well, doctor, if I thought I was going to lose him I would love him a hundred times better than ever." So, my dear, doctor shook his head at me and went away, and (would you believe it!) only five hours after I had to send for him all in a hurry to come to _my_ child. He'd taken a fit like Jacky had; but oh! my dear, he didn't come out of it as Jacky did; it was a sore, sore fit, and before doctor could get to him--and he ran all the way from the village--my bonny bairn was gone.'

'Oh, grandmother, you _would_ feel that,' said Poppy's mother.

'Yes, my dear, I did indeed; and when bedtime came, and he had _his_ child laid aside him, and _my_ child was laid dead in the best room downstairs, I felt as if my heart would break. He wanted me to take _his_ child, but little Jacky was used to father, and wouldn't come to me, and, my dear, I cried myself to sleep.'

'And how much longer did the other baby live, grandmother?' said Poppy.

'Only fifteen days, my dear, and we buried 'em both in one little grave,--I often go to look at it now;--and when we put _his_ child in, and I saw my child's little coffin at the bottom of the grave, my dear, I wished I could go in too.

'I was very hard and rebellious, ay, I was, I see it all now,' said grandmother, wiping her eyes. 'But just to think of G.o.d giving 'em back to me after five-and-forty years! Why, it's wonderful,' said the old woman in a cheerful voice. '"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits." That's the verse for me, my dear, now, isn't it?'

And grandmother took up first Enoch and then Elijah, and kissed them and hugged them as lovingly as ever she had kissed her own little babies.

CHAPTER IX.

JOHN HENRY'S BAIRN.

I have read the story of a fairy who came down into a dark and dismal room, where a poor girl clad in rags was cleaning the fireside, and who, by one touch of her wand, changed everything in the room; the girl found herself dressed in a beautiful robe, and everything around her was made lovely and pleasant to look at. It was a new place altogether.

Now, I think that grandmother was something like that good fairy, for it was perfectly wonderful what a change she made, in the course of a few hours, in that dismal house. No sooner had she had a cup of tea, than she took off her bonnet and shawl, and set to work to put things in order. First, she gave the babies a warm bath, and cried over them, and loved them to her heart's content; and then, as they had no clean clothes to put on, she wrapped them in some of her own garments which she took from her bundle, and, soothed by the unusual comfort and cleanliness, Enoch and Elijah were soon fast asleep.

Then grandmother trotted downstairs again for more hot water, and washed Poppy's poor sick mother, and brushed her tangled hair, and then dressed her in one of her own clean night-gowns, smelling of the sweet field of clover in which it had been dried, and put on the bed a pair of her own sheets, which she had brought with her in case they might be useful.

Oh, how grateful Poppy's mother was!

'Granny,' she said, as she gave her a kiss, 'I haven't been so comfortable never since I was ill; I declare I feel quite sleepy.'

'Well, go to sleep, my la.s.s,' said grandmother; 'that's the very best thing you can do.' So she laid the babies beside their mother in bed, and she and Poppy went downstairs.

'Now, my little la.s.s,' said the old woman, 'you and me will soon tidy things up here.'

It was wonderful to Poppy to see how quickly her grandmother could work.

She was a brisk, active old woman, and in a very short time all the cups, and saucers, and plates were washed and put by, the fireside was swept, and the kitchen table was scoured. Then, leaving Poppy to wash the floor, her grandmother carried off the heap of dirty clothes lying in the corner into the tiny back kitchen, and, long before Poppy's mother or the babies woke, there were two lines of little garments hung out to be quickly dried in the scorching afternoon sun.

'And now, Poppy,' said grandmother, 'fetch my basket, my good little la.s.s, and we'll unpack it.'

Oh, what a basket that was! Poppy's eyes opened wide with astonishment when she saw all that it contained. There was a whole pound of fresh country b.u.t.ter, a loaf of grandmother's own home-made bread, a plum cake she had made on purpose for Poppy, a jar of honey made by grandmother's bees, and a box of fresh eggs laid by grandmother's hens, a bottle of thick yellow cream, and, what Poppy liked best of all, a bunch of roses, and southernwood and pansies, and lavender from grandmother's garden.

It was very pleasant to get tea ready, when there were so many good things to put on the table, and it was still more pleasant when Poppy's mother woke, to take her a cup of tea with the good country cream in it, and to watch how she enjoyed some thin slices of grandmother's bread and b.u.t.ter, and a fresh egg laid that morning by 'little Jenny, the bonniest hen of the lot.'

'Now, Poppy,' said grandmother, when tea was over, 'you get on your hat, and go out a bit. You're a good little la.s.s if ever there was one--bless you, my darling, my own John Henry's bairn! But you want a bit of rest and play, you do indeed.'

'Yes, that she does,' said her mother. 'Why, it's weeks since she got out for a walk--not since I was in bed, bless her!'

So Poppy put on her hat and went out. It was a lovely summer's evening; the great heat of the day was over, and a gentle breeze was blowing, which was very cooling and refres.h.i.+ng to the tired little girl. She went slowly past the great cathedral, and she thought how beautiful it looked, standing out against the quiet evening sky. Then she climbed up a flight of stone steep, and these took her to the top of the old wall, which went all round that ancient city.

And now Poppy had a beautiful view, over the tops of the chimneys, and across the black smoky courts, to where the green fields were lying in the evening suns.h.i.+ne, and the river was lighted up by the rays of the setting sun. And there on the top of the old city wall, in a quiet little corner where no one could see her, Poppy knelt down, and thanked G.o.d for hearing her prayer, and for sending grandmother to help her. On her way home she met Jack coming to meet her. 'Poppy,' he said, 'I've got a present for you.'

He put his hand under his thick fustian jacket and pulled out something tied up tightly in a red cotton pocket-handkerchief.

'Come and sit on this doorstep, Poppy,' he said, 'and look what it is.'

It was a large green apple.

'Why, Jack,' said Poppy, 'where did you get it? It's a funny time of year to get an apple; I didn't know there was any left.'

'No, it's a real curiosity,' said Jack, 'and I said to myself when I got it, "Poppy shall have that big 'un; she was such a plucky girl that night in the tower--she never whimpered nor nothing." So I tied him up in that handkercher, and there he is.'

'Thank you so much, dear Jack,' said Poppy gratefully. 'But however did you get it?'

'Why it was old Sellers, the greengrocer, gave him to me,' said Jack,--'him as has a shop in Newcastle Street; he called me in and he says, "Do you want a job, my lad?" and when I told him "Yes, I do," he set me to clean out his apple-room, where he stores his apples in winter. So he took me in, and it _was_ a sight--such a sight as _you_ never saw, Poppy! Scores of 'em all rotten and smelling. Ay, they _were_ horrid!' said Jack, making a face, 'all but half a dozen that were quite good. Well, I picked 'em out, Poppy, and took 'em to old Sellers, and he gave me half of 'em: so I ate one myself, and I gave one to Sally, and I kept the biggest of 'em all for you.'

'It _was_ good of you, Jack,' said Poppy.

'Well, eat it then,' said the boy--'they're very nice--as good as can be,' and he smacked his lips at the recollection.

But Poppy had rolled her apple up in her pinafore, and did not seem inclined to begin to eat it.

'Whatever are you keeping it for?' said Jack, in rather a disappointed voice.

'Jack,' said Poppy, stopping short, and looking up in his face, 'is it for my very own?'

'Why, yes, Poppy--of course.'

'To do just whatever I like with it?'

'Why, yes, of course,' said Jack again.

'Then I shall give it to my grandmother,' said Poppy; 'she's come to-day, and she's ever so good to us; and G.o.d sent her, and she's cleaned the house beautiful. I shall give it to my grandmother, Jack.'

'All right,' he said; 'only I'd like you to have just one bite yourself, Poppy, to see how good it is.'

He was quite satisfied when Poppy promised to ask her grandmother to give her the last bite; and the little girl hastened home, feeling very happy, and picturing out to herself what a great treat that big apple would be to the old woman.

'Here,' she said, holding it out to her, 'it's all for you, grandmother--only Jack wants me _just_ to have the last bite.'