Chapter Eight

by Kate J. Neily
Edited and Revised by Amber Moeller

The anxiety about the shoes was, of course, never absent from Nelly's mind; and now that her strength was coming back, and she felt able to work, she persuaded Anne to go out and invest for her the dollar which had come as New-Year pocket money from her father in sundry packages of gay-colored worsteds; and for a while she almost forgot the disagreeable object of the work in her pleasure in sorting and winding the bright shades of scarlet wool.

Nelly had always preferred what she called "fancy work" to plain sewing; and she could crochet and knit with considerable skill and taste. She had decided on making a breakfast cape; she saw a great many of them always hanging in the windows of shops where worsted work was sold, and knew that they were an article of very general wear with ladies on cold winter mornings. She thought she could easily sell it for at least four dollars,-- the retail price in the shops was five, -- and if she failed in that, she would persuade the girls in her class to club together, and buy it for Mrs. Kavanagh, whose birthday, she knew, was near at hand.

To her mother she said -- forgetting all her solemn vows never again to be guilty of deception -- that she intended to present it to her teacher, herself; and Mrs. Morgan, always please at any manifestation if interest in school have some pleasant occupation to beguile the tedium of her confinement, approved entirely of the plan, and watched the progress of the work with a very kindly interest.

The little shawl grew apace under Nelly's busy fingers, and was at last finally completed, fringe, tassels, and all, and very handsome and comfortable looking in its warm shades of red, the very evening before the day on which it was decided that Nelly was well enough to return to school.

She wrapped it up carefully, and took it to school with her, to present to Miss Kavanagh, as she told her mother, to try and get the longed-for money which should replace her shoes, and save her from detection, as she told herself. She had to pass, on her way to school, several small shops where needles and thread, trimmings, worsted work, and such things were sold; and she thought she had better go in at once, and see if she could dispose of her precious parcel.

Nelly was not generally a timid child, and she had not supposed she should mind doing this at all; but when she had opened the shop door, and the loud tinkle of its bell had summoned the woman who kept it to the counter, she began to feel that going into a store to offer to sell things was very different from entering with money in the purse for the purpose of buying.

Nelly felt her cheeks burn, and her tongue refused to utter the words she wished; she fidgeted about, and remained silent, until the woman, who had not yet had a chance to finish her breakfast, and whose baby was screaming aloud in the little back shop, demanded impatiently what she wanted.

"Breakfast shawls," stammered Nelly, scarcely knowing what she was saying; and the woman, looking as though she didn't have much faith in the prospect of selling one to such a child, turned to the shelves, and tossed down two or three rather coarse-looking shawls upon the counter.

"How much are these?" asked Nelly.

"Four dollars and a half," said the woman.

Nelly thought how much handsomer was hers in its soft, warm shades of scarlet, and said, hesitatingly,--

"I didn't want to buy one; I have one here to sell, which is a great deal nicer than these, and which you may have for four dollars. You can easily sell it for five. Will you look at it, ma'am?"

But the woman's face darkened in an instant.

"I might ha' known you weren't a going to buy anything!" she said, angrily; "what do you come here botherin' me for nothing'? No, I won't look at your shawl; I can't sell half I've got on hand now!"

She was going off at once, but Nelly interrupted, pleadingly,--

"But mine is a great deal handsomer than these; just look at it--won't you? I'm sure you can sell it--"

"If it's as handsome as you're sassy, it must be a beauty!" replied the woman, coarsely; "will you go off now about your business?"

And Nelly went at once, full of anger and shame, and beginning to feel not a little anxious lest she should not be able to dispose of her work at all; and then what would become of her?

Very timidly, and looking round stealthily, lest any of her schoolmates should happen to be coming that way, she entered the next shop whose window displayed worsted work.

A nice-looking old lady sat behind the counter here, and she got up, pushed back her glasses, and looked pleasantly at Nelly, while waiting to hear what she wished. Nelly felt encouraged by her find face, and stated her business with less hesitation than in the other shop; but, while the old lady showed no displeasure at all, she looked very doubtful, and Nelly felt her heart sink again.

"Let me see your work, my dear," she said;" and Nelly opened her parcel eagerly, and displayed the pretty shawl, all glowing with bright color, and the old lady took it up and examined it kindly.

"How much did you expect to get for it?" she asked.

"I thought it was worth four dollars," said Nelly, timidly, and the shopkeeper shook her head and smiled.

"It is very pretty," she said, "very nicely shaded, and very evenly knit; but there isn't more than twelve shillings' worth of worsted in it wholesale, and a good knitter could make it in a day. I'm afraid you wouldn't get more than two dollars and a half for it at any of the shops, if you sell it at all."

"And you sell shawls no larger, nor prettier, for just double the money!" exclaimed Nelly, indignantly.

"Yes, but you must remember we have to pay the rent of our stores, our taxes, to be paid for our time and labor waiting on customers, and to live on our profits; and we find it hard enough work doing it in these times, even when we charge double what we pay. I'm afraid you will not get more that twenty shillings for it, my dear."

"Well, will you give me that for it?" asked Nelly, getting desperate. "I must have some money some way!"

"Why, you don't look as if you were in need of anything," said the old lady, glancing at Nelly's comfortable dress and general air of being well taken care of; and then, looking a little curiously at the girl's face, which, all of a sudden, flamed as scarlet as the shawl.

"That's none of my business, however," she went on, pitying her confusion; "and I'm sorry, my dear, that I've got such a large stock of breakfast shawls on hand that I don't like to buy any more, particularly as the season is nearly over. I'll tell you what I'll do, though," continued the good-natured shopkeeper, seeing how disappointed her little customer looked. "Since you want the money so badly, and have taken the trouble to make the shawl so nicely, it is a pity it should be left on your hands; you may leave it here, if you like, and I'll show it with my own, and sell it for you if I can."

Nelly considered a moment, and then answered, hesitatingly, "You're very kind, ma'am, and I'm very much obliged to you, indeed; but I want the money just as soon as I can get it' and I think, maybe I can sell it somewhere else. Anyhow, I think I'll try."

"Very well, my dear," said the old lady, just as kindly as before; "try, and I hope you'll succeed; but if you don't, you may still bring it here, if you like, and I will do the best I can for you."

"Thank you, ma'am; you're very, very kind," said Nelly, quite touched with gratitude; "and now, good morning;" and the lady nodded and smiled, and Nelly went out of the shop, and started off again on her errand, not very hopeful of success.

She had no time, either, to make any further effort now, for she was already in sight of the school house, and knew, by the way the girls were hurrying in at the great gate, that it must be nearly nine o'clock. As she did not wish to be late on the first day of her reappearance at school, she, too, quickened her steps, and soon merged into the throng of children that swarmed on the sidewalks, in the lobby, and on the stairs of the great building.

She met several of her own classmates in the wardrobe, but they did not give her a very cordial greeting; and Nelly read in their altered looks that they had not forgotten the disappointment she had caused them on reception day. Neither had she forgotten or forgiven all that their thoughtless ridicule had made her suffer, and for a moment her black eyes flashed with something of the old angry light, and she was about to return their cool glances with looks of haughty scorn; but she remembered that she had a favor to ask of them that day, and that it would not do to display her real feelings, no matter how much she might be tempted.

Nelly had practiced to deceive so much of late, that it was becoming quite easy for her; and so she readily controlled her anger, greeted the girls with a pleasant smile, and a friendly word, and went on into her classroom, looking as natural and cheerful as though nothing unpleasant had occurred since she had last been there.

School was not yet opened, and the girls not obliged to be in strict order. A low murmur of "There's Nelly Morgan come back!" ran round the class; and Nelly's quick ear detected that there was no glad welcome in the tone. Still she would not appear conscious of anything disagreeable, but went quickly up to Miss Kavanagh, bade her a respectful good morning, and inquired if she was to resume her old seat at the desk with Maggie Lang.

Her teacher hesitated a moment, and then said, "I suppose so Nelly; though I think you scarcely deserve a seat so near the front--do you, after leaving your post and your duty, as you did on reception day? I know it was very wrong in the girls to laugh at you, but it was very silly in you to mind them, especially as you might have known your dress would excite remark; and it was very wrong and very daring in you to go away without asking permission, or even informing me of your purpose, when you knew you were so much needed. You gave us all a very unpleasant disappointment; still you probably were quite as much disappointed yourself when you heard that a delightful day the whole school had. At any rate. you have been punished quite enough by your long illness, and we must all forgive you now, and welcome you back among us. Only, Nelly, my dear child, you must let it be a lesson to you, to teach you that fine clothes have nothing to do with real happiness; we find that only in the way of our duty. You may take your old seat, and Maggie will show you the lesson for the day."

Miss Kavanagh had spoken in a low, kind tone; but Nelly's proud spirit rebelled at even so gentle a rebuke. "Give her my shawl! Not if I know it!" she thought, scornfully, remembering what she had told her mother; but she was careful not to show any irritation, and, with a quiet bow, left her teacher's desk, and walked to her former seat. Maggie Lang made room for her politely, though she had not forgotten Nelly's rudeness at their last meeting, and, to tell the truth, would have preferred any other desk-mate.

But she was a good-hearted little thing, and when she saw how gentle and quiet Nelly was, how pleasantly she said good morning, and how well she behaved all through the opening exercises of school, instead of trying to make her laugh in prayer-time, as she had often done before, why, Maggie's little bit of hurt feeling quite melted away; she reminded herself that Nelly was sick when she had spoken to her so unkindly, and decided that it was quite too bad that the poor girl should be treated coldly by her class, after having spent her holidays so dolefully; and so, at recess, when the girls were allowed to go about the room, and talk with each other, Maggie took it upon herself to plead the cause of the offender.

"You know, girls," she said, going over to the corner, where a group of the most influential members of the class were gathered, discussing that same individual -- "you know the poor thing lost all the fun on reception day, and all the nice times at Christmas, and was sick in bed through the whole holidays. I think she's had it hard enough, myself, and that it would be rather mean in us to treat her badly now. We must think how we'd like it, ourselves, you know. Come over, Annie, you and Alice, and speak to her now, with me."

The girls hesitated a moment, and questioned a little among themselves; but Maggie's sweet kindness had made its impression upon them, and they presently consented to obey the Golden Rule, of which she had reminded them, and "do as they would be done by." They crossed the room with her, and went over to the desk where Nelly sat alone, hiding her anger and mortification at being thus left to herself, under the pretence of studying busily, and spoke to her pleasantly, though a little uncertain how she would receive them.

In her heart, Nelly had no welcome for them, for she knew that they had come only through Maggie's persuasions. She was not generous enough even to feel grateful to her for forgiving her so sweetly, and using her influence in her behalf; but the thought of the shawl and the shoes made her careful to conceal her feelings; and she lifted her head from her book, and answered the girls with a bright smile, so like that of the old Nelly who used to be the leader of the class in all sorts of fun and frolic, that they forgot, on the moment, their cause of complaint against her, and were quite ready to restore her to her old place in their favor.

Nelly was not slow to take advantage of the good impression she saw she had made, and said, lightly, --

"I know you were all angry with me on reception day, girls, and I know I gave you cause; but, then, you must remember I had cause to be angry, too, and I think I had the worst of it, in the long run; so now let's not think any more about it. 'Tisn't likely it'll ever happen again. Tell me all about the holidays. What did you have for Christmas, and what were you doing while poor I was lying sick in bed, and couldn't even eat a Christmas dinner."

"It was too bad," exclaimed the girls; now quite full of sympathy for Nelly's misfortunes; and them they began, all talking together, to give the history of their various experiences during vacation; but just then, peal, peal! went the principal's silver bell, and their conversation was cut short at once. Each girl sought her own seat immediately; the monitors took their places at the doors; the teacher at the piano struck up a lively march; the crowd of scholars, who had gone down for a run in the play ground during recess, filed into their classrooms; the great glass music, and the machinery of school was once more put in motion.

But at noon came longer intermission, when Miss Kavanagh was in the habit of allowing those of her class who did not go home to dinner to go into a small side room which adjoined hers, and eat their luncheon, an talk freely among themselves, under the charge of a monitor only, selected from their own number. As soon as they had assembled there, today, Annie, and Alice, and Maggie gathered round Nelly again, eager to tell to some new person all the pleasant story of their Christmas. The rest of the class, following the example of their leaders, crowded round, too; and Nelly found herself, by one of those sudden revulsions of popular feeling common to the schoolroom as well as to the state, surrounded by a circle of friends and admirers, all eager to talk and to listen, to hear and to be heard. The conversation ran mostly on Christmas and Christmas gifts; and Nelly thought that this was a capital opportunity to introduce the subject of the shawl.

"Do you know, girls," said she, cunningly, "one of the things that made me so cross at school, Christmas Eve, was because I saw our present to Miss Kavanagh was just about the meanest one in any class. As I passed through Miss Somers's and Miss Browning's classes, I saw such pretty things lying on their desks! beautiful glove boxes, and trinket stands, and ever so many nice things; and Miss Kavanagh just had some kind of a stupid book. Now, I know her birthday comes the last of the this month, andI think we ought to club together and buy her something handsome. I'll give her a dollar towards it myself. What do you say, girls?"

The girls looked at one another doubtingly. They had thought their Christmas token of affection to their teacher -- a handsome illustrated edition of Tennyson's Poems -- a very nice present indeed; but, now that Nelly spoke of it so slightingly, they began to be afraid that perhaps it was rather shabby. They had public spirit enough not to wish their teacher to be less honored than another; and, moreover, they loved her well enough to wish to give her pleasure. But the holidays were just over; the time of gifts seemed past for the present, and their store of pocket-money had been exhausted by Christmas demands. They did not like to ask their parents for more just now; and so the glance which the girls exchanged at Nelly's unexpected proposition was a very doubtful one.

But Nelly did not give them a chance to refuse at once.

"We won't decide about it now," she said, lightly; "think it over, and we’ll talk about it again tomorrow. Only I feel mean about that trashy book, and I know that some of the other classes think us dreadfully stingy. Besides, I know of something which it would be a real charity in us to buy -- a beautiful scarlet breakfast shawl, which a poor little girl brought into a shop where I stopped on my way to school this morning, and offered to sell for five dollars. It's just what Miss Kavanagh needs, on chilly days, here in school, and ten cents apiece from us fifty girls would buy it. Just think -- ten cents! Who would grudge that much to please a good teacher like ours?"

And Nelly looked around the class with an air of scornful triumph, as though quite sure no one there could be so mean; but, unfortunately, just them the principal's bell pealed forth again, and once more the consultation was broken up.

To be continued ...

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