TESSA.
Katie Robertson remained in the mill
that Saturday afternoon, although her work had long
been completed, till the bell rang for five o’clock,
that being the hour for the Saturday dismissal.
Then she said to Tessa:
“Come and take a walk with me.
There’s a full hour before tea, and I don’t
believe you’ve ever seen the Fawn’s Leap.
Have you?”
“No,” said her companion,
“I have never been anywhere in Squantown.
They would not let us go, in the poor-house, and since
I’ve been in the mill I’ve been too tired
after work was over.”
“Are you very tired now?”
“Not so very; I did not sleep much last night.”
“Was it a very interesting story?”
said the other, archly.
“Oh, yes,” said Tessa,
becoming at once very much excited; “she, Amanda,
I mean, married the most elegant count, and he took
her to his castle, and she had pearls and diamonds
and silks and satins, and never had to do a thing
all the rest of her life; and only think, Katie, she
was a mill-girl in the beginning, just like us.”
The sentence finished with a sigh.
“Would you like a count to come
and carry you off to a castle by-and-by, and give
you all those things?”
“Oh, indeed, yes; when the light
goes out, and I can’t read any more I lie awake
thinking about it, and wondering if such a count will
ever come along. He might, you know, any day.”
“Does that make the mill seem
any pleasanter in the morning?”
“No! no! I hate the mill.
It looks so rough and bare, and the girls all seem
so common. I feel like crying to have to spend
so many hours there.”
“And then you can’t do
your work well. I know just how that feels.
Miss Eunice says it isn’t honest to do
anything that will unfit us for the work we are paid
for doing.”
This was a new definition of dishonesty
to Tessa, but she only said:
“Who’s Miss Eunice?”
“Oh, she’s the teacher
of the Bible-class; the nicest, most splendid lady
in the Sunday-school, except, of course, Miss Etta.
She’s our teacher, you know, but she’s
so young she seems just like one of ourselves.”
“Do you go to Sunday-school?”
said Tessa opening her eyes. “I thought
only little children went. Father said it was
so in Italy.”
“But everybody goes here.
There’s great big girls, quite young women, in
Miss Eunice’s class. Tessa,” said
Katie, struck with a sudden idea, “what do you
do with yourself on Sundays?”
“I read,” said the person
addressed; “read all day long. I lie on
the bed in my room, and forget how hot it is and how
lonely, and then when it gets dark I remember beautiful
Italy and cry.”
“What a lonely life,”
said Katie, sympathetically. “Why don’t
you go to church?”
“We never went to church, my
father and I. He said the church had ruined Italy,
and he was not a Catholic any more.”
“But we’re not Catholics.
Oh, I wish you would come to our church and our Sunday-school!
It’s just as nice! there’s Miss
Etta, and Bertie and Gretchen and Cora, and two or
three more, and on Wednesday Miss Eunice invites our
class and hers to tea, and reads to us, and we have
a society and work for missions and oh,
it’s so nice!” said enthusiastic Katie.
“Do you go to Sunday-school
just to have nice times?” and Tessa opened her
black eyes very widely.
“No,” said her friend,
more soberly; “I think I go there to learn more
about Jesus, and how to love him more and serve him
better. Some of us hope to join the church soon.”
Tessa asked some questions that led
to a long talk which lasted till they had reached
the Fawn’s Leap, which was a beautiful little
waterfall shooting down between two high rocks, from
one of which to the other a fawn was reputed to have
sprung. It was a very lovely spot, and the two
girls threw themselves upon the grass to rest, while
the Italian drew long inspirations of delight.
“It makes me think of home,”
she said; “the old home in Italy. We lived,
my father and I, close to a waterfall just like this,
among the mountains. After my mother died my
father did not want to stay there, so he went to Naples
and bought an organ, and we came to America in a big
ship, and wandered about, and then” her
voice broke down then and she said: “Oh,
Katie, I am so lonely! if I only had a home like yours,
with people in it to talk to and to be kind to me,
I should not want to read so many stories. I
don’t believe they are good for me.”
This was in reference to all Miss Eunice’s talk
about the evils of novel-reading as repeated by Katie.
A sudden thought struck the latter.
“Tessa,” she said, “it
must be awfully lonely at your boarding-house in the
evenings and on Sundays. I wish you could come
and live with me. I have no companions but the
boys, and to have you would be just splendid.”
“Do you think I could?
Do you think your mother would let me? Oh, Katie,
you can’t really mean it!”
Katie had not taken her mother into
consideration. Of course, she could not be sure
of her approbation of such a plan, but she promised
to ask, and went on planning how nice it would be how
the two girls could share Katie’s room and bed;
how they could go to the mill together. “And
then,” said she, “you could go to Sunday-school
with me, Tessa.”
But here Tessa drew back. She
had no clothes, she said, fit to go to church in only
her working-dress and the straw hat which she wore
every day to the mill.
“Go in that. Miss Eunice
says God doesn’t care what we wear when we go
to church.”
“But the girls do, and I care more about them.”
This rather shocked Katie, but she
did not see her way out of the difficulty, and mentally
resolved to “ask mother”: that way
out of all difficulties which is first to suggest
itself to a young girl’s mind.
“There is the sun setting,”
said Tessa. “It must be ever so late.
I sha’n’t get any supper; they never keep
anything for us at our boarding-house.”
“Oh, yes, you will! you are
coming home with me; mother will have something ready
for both of us. I told her where we were going,
and she promised she would keep our supper for us,
no matter how late it was. Besides, it will be
a good chance to ask her about our plan.”
So Tessa consented, nothing loth,
and when she saw the fair, white cloth, with the clear
glasses and bright, shining china, the delicate slices
of white bread, the wild strawberries, and fresh brown
gingerbread, and contrasted it with the bare table,
the stoneware badly chipped, and the great piles of
coarse provisions, into which the boarders dipped
their own knives, she felt as though she had suddenly
got into paradise.
Katie had told the home party about
her Italian companion, and her apparent friendlessness,
and all had taken such an interest in her that when
the boys heard their sister ask and receive permission
to bring her home to tea, and their mother’s
promise to make some soft gingerbread, they resolved
to contribute their share toward the festival, and
the strawberries, to gathering which they had devoted
their afternoon holiday, were the result.
It was a very happy tea-party.
Katie was in high spirits, her mother gentle and hospitable,
the boys courteous and gentlemanly. Tessa had
never been in such society before, and yet there was
in her a native grace and refinement due,
perhaps, to the artistic atmosphere in which she was
born that prevented her from doing anything
rude or awkward, or seeming at all out of place.
After tea the boys brought out the
games, and the visitor showed herself quick to learn
and eager to enjoy. The heavy, half-sorrowful
look went out of her face, which became full of fun
as her eyes sparkled and danced, and she pushed back
her long black hair.
When the clock struck nine Mrs. Robertson said:
“It is time for young folks
who have to get up early to go to bed. The boys
will see you home, dear; but perhaps you would like
to stay and have prayers with us first.”
“Oh, yes, I am sure she would,”
said Katie, seeing that her friend seemed not to know
how to answer this proposition. So Eric handed
his mother the books, and she first read a chapter
in the Bible, and then kneeling down, with her little
flock around her, read an evening prayer, commending
them all to the love and protection of their heavenly
Father. It all seemed very sweet to the visitor,
who had never been present at such a service before.
She could not probably have told how she felt, but
a longing desire came over her to stay where everything
seemed so near the gate of heaven, and she said impulsively:
“Oh, Mrs. Robertson, if you would only keep
me always!”
Then Katie said:
“Mother, why can’t Tessa
live with us? There’s plenty of room for
her with me; and she has nobody belonging to her nothing
but a horrid room in the factory boarding-house, where
nobody cares for her, and she has to read novels all
the evening and all Sunday, and that makes her sick.
It would be so nice to have her go to the mill with
me every day, and to Sunday-school on Sunday only
she hasn’t any clothes that are fit, and”
“My dear, do stop to take your
breath,” said the astonished mother, “and
let me get some idea of what you are talking about.
Do I understand that you want Tessa to come and live
here? I should much like to have her do so, my
child, but you know don’t think me
unkind, Tessa that we are poor people,
and find it hard to fill the four mouths that must
be filled.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,”
said the girl, timidly, and turning crimson.
“Of course, I wouldn’t let you and Katie
support me; but I could pay you my board, just as
I do at the boarding-house. I suppose it would
be more, but perhaps I could work harder and earn
something extra, as some of the other girls do.”
“How much do you pay now?”
“Two dollars and a half a week.”
“And you have only three dollars! Katie
makes five.”
“Yes, I know; she works fast.
Perhaps I could if there was any use anything
to do it for. I didn’t need any money.
They gave me my clothes at the workhouse, and I bought
books with the other half-dollar.”
Both girls looked very beseechingly
at Katie’s mother, and Eric, who had taken a
great fancy to the dark-haired girl, added his entreaties;
but she said:
“I can not answer you to-night;
I must think about it and pray over it. I will
let you know when I have made up my mind. Now
you must go home, dear; Eric will go with you.
Good-night, and God bless you.”
Tessa felt the kiss that accompanied
these words down to the bottom of her heart.
No one had ever kissed her before, so far as she could
remember, except her father, and she longed most ardently
to be taken into this home.
Katie followed her to the door and
whispered: “Tessa, I shall ask God to make
mother decide the way we want her to. You ask
him, too. You know it says in the Bible:
’If any two of you shall agree on earth as touching
any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for
them.’” But Tessa did not yet understand
about “asking God.” She only stared
and bid her friend good-night.
The next morning as she sat rather
disconsolately on the doorstep of the boarding-house,
not knowing exactly what to do with herself, for in
consequence of last night’s visiting she had
neglected to provide herself with a new book, Katie
came by and greeted her brightly. She looked
so sweet and fresh in her simple Sunday dress that
it was not to be wondered at that Tessa, in her soiled
mill-clothes, again refused to accompany her friend
to Sunday-school.
“You shall have my library book,
any way. I don’t care to get another to-day,
and mother says you are to come round this afternoon
to get her answer.”
The book was a pleasant story, and
though it lacked the species of morbid excitement
to which the girl had accustomed herself, it filled
up the time agreeably, and gave her a glimpse of a
higher, purer plane of life than any with which she
was as yet familiar. Some precious truths concerning
the love of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the happiness
of serving him, were woven into it, and served as
the indestructible seeds which were yet to ripen in
the girl’s spiritual life. At about four
o’clock she put on her hat, and full of mingled
anxiety and hope, made her way to the corner house
which seemed to her so much like heaven.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Robertson had thought
the matter over in every direction. She did not
at first like the idea of increasing the home party,
or of introducing into it any element that might prove
discordant. She dreaded to have Katie or the boys
come under any influence that might counteract the
earnest, religious training she was endeavoring to
give her children. But there seemed to be nothing
vicious, or even common, about Tessa; she was sweet
and well-mannered, and so friendless and forlorn that
it would be a positive charity to take her in.
Then, too, the girl had evidently had no religious
teaching and was profoundly ignorant about spiritual
things. Perhaps this was missionary work sent
to her very hands. She might at least try it for
a while. The board to be paid would make it possible
to do so, and if the plan were not a success, or proved
hurtful to her own children, to whom she owed her
first duty, she could but send the girl back to her
present lodgings.
So, when Tessa came she was told,
to her great joy, that her request was granted, and
she might commence her new life on Monday. A very
serious motherly talk followed, and among other things
the new boarder was obliged to promise never to introduce
sensational literature into the house.
Mrs. Robertson agreed to take Tessa
for two dollars a week, on condition that she would
assist Katie with the housework before and after mill-hours.
The half-dollar a week thus saved would soon procure
a simple Sunday outfit, and enable her to accompany
her friend to Sunday-school and church.
Katie, with some of the remains of
her precious fifty dollars, insisted on advancing
this; and on the first Sunday morning the young Italian,
looking very pretty but rather shy, took her place
in Miss Etta’s class, and was at once enrolled
among its members.
Mrs. Robertson never had cause to
regret her kind-hearted decision. Tessa was devotedly
attached to Katie, and followed, rather than led,
her friend. She was shy with the boys at first,
but soon came to show them the same sisterly feeling
that their sister did. Her wit, quickness, and
power of story-telling soon made her a valuable addition
to the family circle, while the genial home influences
and good fare so told upon herself that her extreme
delicacy soon disappeared, and she became capable
of as much work or endurance as Katie herself.