Aunt Judy's Tales Part 3

For a grown-up person to attain to the same state of unanxious resignation, is one of the high triumphs of Christian faith. It is that "delivering one's self up," of which the poor speak so forcibly on their sick-beds.

No. 7 proved a charming instance of the truth of Jeremy Taylor's remark. He behaved in the most composed manner over his feelings, and even over his physic.

During the first day or two, when he sat shivering by the fire, reading "Neill D'Arcy's Life at Sea," and was asked how he felt, he answered with his usual smile; "Oh, all right; only a little cold now and then." And afterwards, when he was in bed in a darkened room, and the same question was put, he replied almost as quietly, (though without the smile,) "Oh--only a little too hot."

Then over the medicine, he contested nothing. He made, indeed, one or two by no means injudicious suggestions, as to the best method of having the disagreeable material, whether powdery or oleaginous, (I will not particularize further!) conveyed down his throat: commonly said, "Thank you," even before he had swallowed it; and then shut his eyes, and kept himself quiet.

Fortunately No. 1, and Schoolboy No. 3, had had the complaint as well as papa and mamma, so there were plenty to share in the nursing and house matters. The only question was, what was to be done with the little ones while Nurse was so busy; and Aunt Judy volunteered her services in their behalf.

Now it will easily be supposed, after what I have said, that the nursing was not at all a difficult undertaking; but I am grieved to say that Aunt Judy's task was by no means so easy a one.

The little ones were very sorry, it is true, that No. 7 was poorly; but, unluckily, they forgot it every time they went either up-stairs or down. They could not bear in their minds the fact, that when they encouraged the poodle to bark after an India-rubber ball, he was pretty sure to wake No. 7 out of a nap; and, in short, the day being so fine, and the little ones so noisy, Aunt Judy packed them all off into their gardens to tidy them up, she herself taking her station in a small study, the window of which looked out upon the family play- ground.

Her idea, perhaps, was, that she could in this way combine the prosecution of her own studies, with enacting policeman over the young gardeners, and "keeping the peace," as she called it. But if so, she was doomed to disappointment.

The operation of "tidying up gardens," as performed by a set of "little ones," scarcely needs description.

It consists of a number of alterations being thought of, and set about, not one of which is ever known to be finished by those who begin them. It consists of everybody wanting the rake at the same moment, and of n.o.body being willing to use the other tools, which they call stupid and useless things. It consists of a great many plants being moved from one place to another, when they are in full flower, and dying in consequence. (But how, except when they are in flower, can anyone judge where they will look best?) It consists of a great many seeds being prevented from coming up at all, by an "alteration" cutting into the heart of the patch just as they were bursting their sh.e.l.ls for a sprout. It consists of an unlimited and fatal application of the cold-water cure.

And, finally, it results in such a confusion between foot-walks and beds--such a mixture of earth and gravel, and thrown-down tools--that anyone unused to the symptoms of the case, might imagine that the door of the pigsty in the yard had been left open, and that its inhabitant had been performing sundry uncouth gambols with his nose in the little ones' gardens.

Aunt Judy was quite aware of these facts, and she had accordingly laid down several rules, and given several instructions to prevent the usual catastrophe; and all went very smoothly at first in consequence. The little ones went out all hilarity and delight, and divided the tools with considerable show of justice, while Aunt Judy nodded to them approvingly out of her window, and then settled down to an interesting sum in that most peculiar of all arithmetical rules, "The Rule of False," the principle of which is, that out of two errors, made by yourself from two wrong guesses, you arrive at a discovery of the truth!

When Aunt Judy first caught sight of this rule, a few days before, at the end of an old summing-book, it struck her fancy at once. The principle of it was capable of a much more general application than to the "Rule of False," and she amused herself by studying it up.

It is, no doubt, a clumsy subst.i.tute for algebra; but young folks who have not learnt algebra, will find it a very entertaining method of making out all such sums as the following old puzzler, over which Aunt Judy was now poring:

"There is a certain fish, whose head is 9 inches in length, his tail as long as his head and half of his back, and his back as long as both head and tail together. Query, the length of the fish?"

But Aunt Judy was not left long in peace with her fish. While she was in the thick of "suppositions" and "errors," a tap came at the window.

"Aunt Judy!"

"Stop!" was the answer; and the hand of the speaker went up, with the slate-pencil in it, enforcing silence while she pursued her calculations.

"Say, back 42 inches; then tail (half back) 21, and head given, 9, that's 30, and 30 and 9, 39 back.--Won't do! Second error: three inches--What's the matter, No. 6? You surely have not begun to quarrel already?"

"Oh, no," answered No. 6, with her nose flattened against the window- pane. "But please, Aunt Judy, No. 8 won't have the oyster-sh.e.l.l tr.i.m.m.i.n.g round his garden any longer, he says; he says it looks so rubbishy. But as my garden joins his down the middle, if he takes away the oyster-sh.e.l.ls all round his, then one of MY sides--the one in the middle, I mean--will be left bare, don't you see? and I want to keep the oyster-sh.e.l.ls all round may garden, because mamma says there are still some zoophytes upon them. So how is it to be?"

What a perplexity! The fish with his nine-inch head, and his tail as long as his head and half of his back, was a mere nothing to it.

Aunt Judy threw open the window.

"My dear No. 6," answered she, "yours is the great boundary-line question about which nations never do agree, but go squabbling on till some one has to give way first. There is but one plan for settling it, and that is, for each of you to give up a piece of your gardens to make a road to run between. Now if you'll both give way at once, and consent to this, I will come out to you myself, and leave my fish till the evening. It's much too fine to stay in doors, I feel; and I can give you all something real to do."

"I'LL give way, I'm sure, Aunt Judy," cried No. 6, quite glad to be rid of the dispute; "and so will you, won't you, No. 8?" she added, appealing to that young gentleman, who stood with his pinafore full of dirty oyster-sh.e.l.ls, not quite understanding the meaning of what was said.

"I'll WHAT?" inquired he.

"Oh, never mind! Only throw the oyster-sh.e.l.ls down, and come with Aunt Judy. It will be much better fun than staying here."

No. 8 lowered his pinafore at the word of command, and dropped the discarded oyster-sh.e.l.ls, one by one--where do you think?--why--right into the middle of his little garden! an operation which seemed to be particularly agreeable to him, if one might judge by his face. He was not sorry either to be relieved from the weight.

"You see, Aunt Judy," continued No. 6 to her sister, who had now joined them, "it doesn't so much matter about the oyster-sh.e.l.l tr.i.m.m.i.n.g; but No. 8's garden is always in such a mess, that I must have a wall or something between us!"

"You shall have a wall or a path decidedly," replied Aunt Judy: "a road is the next best thing to a river for a boundary-line. But now, all of you, pick up the tools and come with me, and you shall do some regular work, and be paid for it at the rate of half-a-farthing for every half hour. Think what a magnificent offer!"

The little ones thought so in reality, and welcomed the arrangement with delight, and trudged off behind Aunt Judy, calculating so hard among themselves what their conjoint half-farthings would come to, for the half-hours they all intended to work, and furthermore, what amount or variety of "goodies" they would purchase, that Aunt Judy half fancied herself back in the depths of the "Rule of False" again!

She led them at last to a pretty shrubbery-walk, of which they were all very fond. On one side of it was a quick-set hedge, in which the honeysuckle was mixed so profusely with the thorn, that they grew and were clipped together.

It was the choicest spot for a quiet evening stroll in summer that could possibly be imagined. The sweet scent from the honeysuckle flowers stole around you with a welcome as you moved along, and set you a dreaming of some far-off region where the delicious sensations produced by the odour of flowers may not be as transient as they are here.

There was an alcove in the middle of the walk--not one of the modern mockeries of rusticity--but a real old-fashioned lath-and-plaster concern, such as used to be erected in front of a bowling-green. It was roofed in, was open only on the sunny side, and was supported by a couple of little Ionic pillars, up which clematis and pa.s.sion- flower were studiously trained.

There was a table as well as seats within; and the alcove was a very nice place for either reading or drawing in, as it commanded a pretty view of the distant country. It was also, and perhaps especially, suited to the young people in their more poetical and fanciful moods.

The little ones had no sooner reached the entrance of the favourite walk, than they scampered past Aunt Judy to run a race; but No. 6 stopped suddenly short.

"Aunt Judy, look at these horrible weeds! Ah! I do believe this is what you have brought us here for!"

It was indeed; for some showers the evening before, had caused them to flourish in a painfully prominent manner, and the favourite walk presented a somewhat neglected appearance.

So Aunt Judy marked it off for the little ones to weed, repeated the exhilarating promise of the half-farthings, and seated herself in the alcove to puzzle out the length of the fish.

At first it was rather amusing to hear, how even in the midst of their weeding, the little ones pursued their calculations of the antic.i.p.ated half-farthings, and discussed the niceness and prices of the various descriptions of "goodies."

But by degrees, less and less was said; and at last, the half- farthings and "goodies" seemed altogether forgotten, and a new idea to arise in their place.

The new idea was, that this weeding-task was uncommonly troublesome!

"I'm sure there are many more weeds in my piece than in anybody else's!" remarked the tallest of the children, standing up to rest his rather tired back, and contemplate the walk. "I don't think Aunt Judy measured it out fair!"

"Well, but you're the biggest, and ought to do the most," responded No. 6.

"A LITTLE the most is all very well," persisted No. 5; "but I've got TOO MUCH the most rather--and it's very tiresome work."

"What nonsense!" rejoined No. 6. "I don't believe the weeds are any thicker in your piece than in mine. Look at my big heap. And I'm sure I'm quite as tired as you are."

No. 6 got up as she spoke, to see how matters were going on; not at all sorry either, to change her position.

"I'VE got the most," muttered No. 8 to himself, still kneeling over his work.

But this was, it is to be feared, a very unjustifiable bit of brag.

"If you go on talking so much, you will not get any half-farthings at all!" shouted No. 4, from the distance.

A pause followed this warning, and the small party ducked down again to their work.