The Wide, Wide World. Warner Susan

a great many things," said Ellen; "French, and Italian, and Latin, and music, and arithmetic, and chemistry, and all about animals and plants and insects – I forget what it's called – and – oh, I can't recollect; a great many things. Every now and then I think of something I want to learn; I can't remember them now. But I'm doing nothing," said Ellen sadly; "learning nothing – I am not studying and improving myself as I meant to; mamma will be disappointed when she comes back, and I meant to please her so much!" The tears were fast coming; she put her hand upon her eyes to force them back.

      "If you are so tired of being idle," said Miss Fortune, "I'll warrant I'll give you something to do; and something to learn too, that you want enough more than all those crinkumcrankums; I wonder what good they'd ever do you! That's the way your mother was brought up, I suppose. If she had been trained to use her hands and do something useful instead of thinking herself above it, maybe she wouldn't have had to go to sea for her health just now; it doesn't do for women to be bookworms."

      "Mamma isn't a bookworm!" said Ellen indignantly; "I don't know what you mean; and she never thinks herself above being useful; it's very strange you should say so when you don't know anything about her."

      "I know she ha'n't brought you up to know manners, anyhow," said Miss Fortune. "Look here, I'll give you something to do – just you put those plates and dishes together ready for washing, while I am downstairs."

      Ellen obeyed, unwillingly enough. She had neither knowledge of the business nor any liking for it; so it is no wonder Miss Fortune at her return was not well pleased.

      "But I never did such a thing before," said Ellen.

      "There it is now!" said Miss Fortune. "I wonder where your eyes have been every single time that I have done it since you have been here. I should think your own sense might have told you! But you're too busy learning of Mr. Van Brunt to know what's going on in the house. Is that what you call made ready for washing? Now just have the goodness to scrape every plate clean off and put them nicely in a pile here; and turn out the slops out of the tea-cups and saucers and set them by themselves. Well! what makes you handle them so? Are you afraid they'll burn you?"

      "I don't like to take hold of things people have drunk out of," said Ellen, who was indeed touching the cups and saucers very delicately with the tips of her fingers.

      "Look here," said Miss Fortune, "don't you let me hear no more of that, or I vow I'll give you something to do you won't like. Now put the spoons here, and the knives and forks together here; and carry the salt-cellar and the pepper-box and the butter and the sugar into the buttery."

      "I don't know where to put them," said Ellen.

      "Come along, then, and I'll show you; it's time you did. I reckon you'll feel better when you've something to do, and you shall have plenty. There – put them in that cupboard, and set the butter up here, and put the bread in this box, do you see? now don't let me have to show you twice over."

      This was Ellen's first introduction to the buttery; she had never dared to go in there before. It was a long, light closet or pantry, lined on the left side, and at the further end, with wide shelves up to the ceiling. On these shelves stood many capacious pans and basins of tin and earthenware, filled with milk, and most of them coated with superb yellow cream. Midway was the window, before which Miss Fortune was accustomed to skim her milk, and at the side of it was the mouth of a wooden pipe, or covered trough, which conveyed the refuse milk down to an enormous hogshead standing at the lower kitchen door, whence it was drawn as wanted for the use of the pigs. Beyond the window in the buttery, and on the higher shelves, were rows of yellow cheeses; forty or fifty were there at least. On the right hand of the door was the cupboard, and a short range of shelves, which held in ordinary all sorts of matters for the table, both dishes and eatables. Floor and shelves were well painted with thick yellow paint, hard and shining, and clean as could be; and there was a faint pleasant smell of dairy things.

      Ellen did not find out all this at once, but in the course of a day or two, during which her visits to the buttery were many. Miss Fortune kept her word, and found her plenty to do; Ellen's life soon became a pretty busy one. She did not like this at all; it was a kind of work she had no love for; yet no doubt it was a good exchange for the miserable moping life she had lately led. Anything was better than that. One concern, however, lay upon poor Ellen's mind with pressing weight – her neglected studies and wasted time; for no better than wasted she counted it. "What shall I do?" she said to herself after several of these busy days had passed; "I am doing nothing – I am learning nothing – I shall forget all I have learnt, directly. At this rate I shall not know any more than all these people around me; and what will mamma say? – Well, if I can't go to school I know what I will do," she said, taking a sudden resolve, "I'll study by myself! I'll see what I can do; it will be better than nothing, any way. I'll begin this very day!"

      With new life Ellen sprang upstairs to her room, and forthwith began pulling all the things out of her trunk to get at her books. They were at the very bottom; and by the time she had reached them half the floor was strewn with the various articles of her wardrobe; without minding them in her first eagerness, Ellen pounced at the books.

      "Here you are, my dear Numa Pompilius," said she, drawing out a little French book she had just begun to read, "and here you are, old grammar and dictionary; and here is my history – very glad to see you, Mr. Goldsmith! And what in the world's this? – wrapped up as if it was something great – oh, my expositor! I am not glad to see you, I am sure; never want to look at your face or your back again. My copy-book! – I wonder who'll set copies for me now! My arithmetic – that's you! Geography and atlas – all right! And my slate! – but dear me! I don't believe I've such a thing as a slate-pencil in the world. Where shall I get one, I wonder? Well, I'll manage. And that's all – that's all, I believe."