Aunt Jo's Scrap Bag. Louisa May Alcott

see how funny he looked, and just then he slipped out of her hand. She clutched at him, missed him, but alas, alas! he left his little tail behind him. Every feather in his blessed little tail, I do assure you; and there sat Patty with the yellow plumes in her hand and dismay in her face. Poor Tweedle-dee retired to his cage much afflicted, and sung no more that day, but Patty hid the lost tail and never said a word about it.

      'Aunt Pen is so near-sighted she won't mind, and maybe he will have another tail pretty soon, or she will think he is moulting. If she asks of course I shall tell her.'

      Patty settled it in that way, forgetting that the slide was open and Aunt Pen in the kitchen. So she made a neat blue and buff patch, and put it away, meaning to puzzle aunty when the reading-time came. But Patty got the worst of it, as you will see by-and-bye.

      Another day she strolled into the store-room and saw a large tray of fresh buns standing there. Now, it was against the rule to eat between meals, and new hot bread or cake was especially forbidden. Patty remembered both these things, but could not resist temptation. One plump, brown bun, with a lovely plum right in the middle, was so fascinating it was impossible to let it alone; so Patty whipped it into her pocket, ran to the garden, and hiding behind the big lilac-bush, ate it in a great hurry. It was just out of the oven, and so hot it burned her throat, and lay like a live coal in her little stomach after it was down, making her very uncomfortable for several hours.

      'Why do you keep sighing?' asked Aunt Pen, as Patty sat down to her work.

      'I don't feel very well.'

      'You have eaten something that disagrees with you. Did you eat hot biscuits for breakfast?'

      'No, ma'am, I never do,' and Patty gave another little gasp, for the bun lay very heavily on both stomach and conscience just then.

      'A drop or two of ammonia will set you right,' and Aunt Pen gave her some. It did set the stomach right, but the conscience still worried her, for she could not make up her mind to 'fess' the sly, greedy thing she had done.

      'Put a white patch in the middle of those green ones,' said Aunt Pen, as Patty sat soberly sewing her daily square.

      'Why?' asked the little girl, for aunty seldom interfered in her arrangement of the quilt.

      'It will look pretty, and match the other three squares that are going at the corners of that middle piece.'

      'Well, I will,' and Patty sewed away, wondering at this sudden interest in her work, and why Aunt Pen laughed to herself as she put away the ammonia bottle.

      These are two of the naughty little things that got worked into the quilt; but there were good ones also, and Aunt Pen's sharp eyes saw them all.

      At the window of a house opposite, Patty often saw a little girl who sat there playing with an old doll or a torn book. She never seemed to run about or go out, and Patty often wondered if she was sick, she looked so thin and sober, and was so quiet. Patty began by making faces at her for fun, but the little girl only smiled back, and nodded so good-naturedly that Patty was ashamed of herself.

      'Is that girl over there poor?' she asked suddenly as she watched her one day.

      'Very poor: her mother takes in sewing, and the child is lame,' answered Aunt Pen, without looking up from the letter she was writing.

      'Her doll is nothing but an old shawl tied round with a string, and she don't seem to have but one book. Wonder if she'd like to have me come and play with her,' said Patty to herself, as she stood her own big doll in the window, and nodded back at the girl, who bobbed up and down in her chair with delight at this agreeable prospect.

      'You can go and see her some day if you like,' said Aunt Pen, scribbling away.

      Patty said no more then, but later in the afternoon she remembered this permission, and resolved to try if aunty would find out her good doings as well as her bad ones. So, tucking Blanch Augusta Arabella Maud under one arm, her best picture-book under the other, and gathering a little nosegay of her own flowers, she slipped across the road, knocked, and marched boldly upstairs.

      Mrs. Brown, the sewing-woman, was out, and no one there but Lizzie in her chair at the window, looking lonely and forlorn.

      'How do you do? My name is Patty, and I live over there, and I've come to play with you,' said one child in a friendly tone.

      'How do you do? My name is Lizzie, and I'm very glad to see you. What a lovely doll!' returned the other child gratefully; and then the ceremony of introduction was over, and they began to play as if they had known each other for ever so long.

      To poor Lizzie it seemed as if a little fairy had suddenly appeared to brighten the dismal room with flowers and smiles and pretty things; while Patty felt her pity and good-will increase as she saw Lizzie's crippled feet, and watched her thin face brighten and glow with interest and delight over book and doll and posy. 'It felt good,' as Patty said afterwards; 'sort of warm and comfortable in my heart, and I liked it ever so much.' She stayed an hour, making sunshine in a shady place, and then ran home, wondering if Aunt Pen would find that out.

      She found her sitting with her hands before her, and such a sad look in her face that Patty ran to her, saying anxiously—

      'What's the matter, aunty? Are you sick?'

      'No dear; but I have sorrowful news for you. Come, sit in my lap and let me tell you as gently as I can.'

      'Mamma is dead!' Cried Patty with a look of terror in her rosy face.

      'No, thank God! but the dear, new baby only stayed a week, and we shall never see her in this world.'

      With a cry of sorrow Patty threw herself into the arms outstretched to her, and on Aunt Pen's loving bosom sobbed away the first bitterness of her grief and disappointment.

      'Oh, I wanted a little sister so much, and I was going to be so fond of her, and was so glad she came, and now I can't see or have her even for a day! I'm so disappointed I don't think I can bear it,' sobbed Patty.

      'Think of poor mamma, and bear it bravely for her sake,' whispered Aunt Pen, wiping away her own and Patty's tears.

      'Oh, dear me! there's the pretty quilt I was going to make for baby, and now it isn't any use, and I can't bear to finish it;' and Patty broke out afresh at the thought of so much love's labour lost.

      'Mamma will love to see it, so I wouldn't give it up. Work is the best cure for sorrow; and I think you never will be sorry you tried it. Let us put a bright bit of submission with this dark trouble, and work both into your little life as patiently as we can, deary.'

      Patty put up her trembling lips, and kissed Aunt Pen, grateful for the tender sympathy and the helpful words. 'I'll try,' was all she said; and then they sat talking quietly together about the dear, dead baby, who only stayed long enough to make a place in every one's heart, and leave them aching when she went.

      Patty did try to bear her first trouble bravely, and got on very well after the first day or two, except when the sewing-hour came. Then the sight of the pretty patchwork recalled the memory of the cradle it was meant to cover, and reminded her that it was empty now. Many quiet tears dropped on Patty's work; and sometimes she had to put it down and sob, for she had longed so for a little sister, it was very hard to give her up, and put away all the loving plans she had made for the happy time when baby came. A great many tender little thoughts and feelings got sewed into the gay squares; and if a small stain showed here and there, I think they only added to its beauty in the eyes of those who knew what made them. Aunt Pen never suggested picking out certain puckered bits and grimy stitches, for she knew that just there the little fingers trembled, and the blue eyes got dim as they touched and saw the delicate, flowery bits left from baby's gowns.

      Lizzie was full of sympathy, and came hopping over on her crutches with her only treasure, a black rabbit, to console her friend. But of all the comfort given, Mother Bunch's share was the greatest and best; for that very first sad day, as Patty wandered about the house disconsolately, puss came hurrying to meet her, and in her dumb way begged her mistress to follow