Happy Days for Boys and Girls Part 10

"And so you lose all chance of getting on, and being able in time to help your little brother," said Pearson, as if musing; "but what's that you have in your hand, Tom--a picture?"

"It's w.i.l.l.y," said the boy; "yes, you may look, Pearson. Mother had it taken just before she fell ill; he's only four, but he's the prettiest little chap, with yellow hair all in curls. I dare say they've cut them off, though," he added, bitterly. "There's a bit of a sickly child on board, belonging to the tall lady in black, that reminds me a little of him, only he isn't near as pretty as w.i.l.l.y."

"Yes, he is a pretty little lad," said Pearson, returning the photograph; "and now, Tom, mind my word: I am an old fellow compared to you, and I'll give you a bit of advice. The little lad is safe, at any rate, in the workhouse; he's got food and clothes, and you couldn't give him that; so be content, and try to do your own duty. If you get a good character, instead of being always had up for sulking or fighting, that's the best chance for you, and, after you, for w.i.l.l.y. As for the lads' teasing, why, be a bit hard of hearing, and before many years, I warrant, you'll be having w.i.l.l.y aboard ship as boy, when you're an able-bodied seaman."

Tom laughed. "Thank you, Pearson. Well, I'll try; but I do get wishing and bothering of nights."

"Ah, that wishing's a poor trick," said Pearson; "give it up, Tom, and work instead."

People don't often take advice, but this time it was followed. A great deal of rough weather came on; every one had as much as he could do, and Tom worked with the best of them, and to his great joy was noticed by the ship's officers as a willing lad.

One bright morning brought all the pa.s.sengers on deck,--the ship was bound for Rio,--and among them came the tall lady in black, with her little boy in her arms. Tom's duties took him near her, and he could not but steal a glance at the little face like w.i.l.l.y's; but, O, so pale and pinched now! The child had suffered dreadfully in the rough weather; it was doubtful whether he would see land again, he was so weakened. Tom felt sorry for the little fellow, but his work engrossed him, and he had nearly forgotten the white-faced child, when, to his great surprise, the captain called him. The lady in black was a relative of the captain, and it seemed that while Tom had been glancing at the sick child, the child had been watching him, and had taken a fancy to his clear round face, and active movements.

"Let me see what sort of a head-nurse you can make," said the captain to Tom; "this little fellow will have you carry him, he says, and teach him to climb the rigging."

Tom smiled, but instantly checked himself, as hardly respectful to the captain.

They dressed Carlo up in a suit of sailor clothes. To be sure they were rather large for him, but then it was such fun to be a real little sailor. Under Tom's care his face soon grew round and fat, and his merry laugh rang out on the air. And now he would live to see his father and his birthplace again, for he was born in South America, and had only left his Portuguese father for a few months, to accompany his English mother on a visit to her relatives.

The day before they sighted land, Tom was sent for into the captain's cabin, and there a wonderful proposal was made to him--that he should give up sea life, and go to Bella Sierra as little Carlo's attendant.

Carlo's parents were rich people; little Carlo had taken a great fancy to him, and he would have good wages.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LITTLE SAILOR.]

It sounded very pleasant; but little w.i.l.l.y! he should never see him--it would not do. Tom hesitatingly explained this to Carlo's mother, drawing the little photograph out of his pocket the while.

Then came the last and best proposition,--that w.i.l.l.y should come out on the _Flying Star's_ next voyage, and live, too, at Bella Sierra.

Mrs. Costello--the lady in black--promised to pay all expenses, and put him in charge of the stewardess. Carlo, her only child, had grown so fond of Tom, that she would do anything to keep him.

"Such an active, willing boy," she explained to the captain. "I have often watched him at work, and admired the way in which he did it."

"Well, lad," said Pearson, when Tom came to tell him the news, "wasn't I right when I told you that the best way you could work for w.i.l.l.y was by doing your own duty? If you had gone on in that half-and-half, discontented way, no rich lady would have cared to have you about her house--would she?"

Tom looked thoughtful. "Yes, you were right, Pearson; you've done it all; and now I want you to do one thing more. Please look after w.i.l.l.y a bit when he comes out; he's such a daring little chap, he'll always be running away from the stewardess."

"Ah, you want me to be nurse now--do you?" said Pearson; "all right, lad, and as the song says, 'Don't forget me in the land you're going to.' And you can still stick to my old motto, that 'Working is better than Wishing.'"

KIND TO EVERYTHING.

Softly, softly, little sister, Touch those gayly-painted wings; b.u.t.terflies and moths, remember, Are such very tender things.

Softly, softly, little sister, Twirl your limber hazel twig; Little hands may harm a nestling Thoughtlessly, as well as big.

Gently stroke the purring p.u.s.s.y, Kindly pat the friendly dog; Let your unmolesting mercy Even spare the toad or frog.

Wide is G.o.d's great world around you: Let the harmless creatures live; Do not mar their brief enjoyment, Take not what you cannot give.

Let your heart be warm and tender-- For the mute and helpless plead; Pitying leads to prompt relieving, Kindly thought to kindly deed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SOFTLY, SOFTLY, LITTLE SISTER.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: {The farmer and the calf}]

THAT CALF!

To the yard, by the barn, came the farmer one morn, And, calling the cattle, he said, While they trembled with fright, "Now, which of you, last night, Shut the barn door, while I was abed?"

Each one of them all shook his head.

Now the little calf Spot, she was down in the lot; And the way the rest talked was a shame; For no one, night before, saw her shut up the door; But they said that she did,--all the same,-- For they always made her take the blame.

Said the horse (dapple gray), "I was not up that way Last night, as I now recollect;"

And the bull, pa.s.sing by, tossed his horns very high, And said, "Let who may here object, I say 'tis that calf I suspect!"

Then out spoke the cow, "It is terrible, now, To accuse honest folks of such tricks."

Said the c.o.c.k in the tree, "I'm sure 'twasn't me;"

And the sheep all cried, "Bah!" (There were six.) "Now that calf's got herself in a fix!"

"Why, of course, we all knew 'twas the wrong thing to do."

Said the chickens. "Of course," said the cat; "I suppose," cried the mule, "some folks think me a fool; But I'm not quite so simple as that; The poor calf never knows what she's at!"

Just that moment, the calf, who was always the laugh And the jest of the yard, came in sight.

"Did you shut my barn door?" asked the farmer once more.

"I did, sir; I closed it last night,"

Said the calf; "and I thought that was right."

Then each one shook his head. "She will catch it," they said; "Serve her right for her meddlesome way!"

Said the farmer, "Come here, little bossy, my dear!

You have done what I cannot repay, And your fortune is made from to-day.

"For a wonder, last night, I forgot the door, quite; And if you had not shut it so neat, All my colts had slipped in, and gone right to the bin, And got what they ought not to eat-- They'd have foundered themselves upon wheat."

Then each hoof of them all began loudly to bawl; The very mule smiled; the c.o.c.k crew; "Little Spotty, my dear, you're a favorite here,"

They cried. "We all said it was you, We were so glad to give you your due."

And the calf answered, knowingly, "Boo!"

PHOEBE CARY.

[Decoration]