Merry was a thoughtful girl,full of innocent fancies,refined tastes,and romantic dreams,in which no one sympathized at home,though she was the pet of the family.It did seem,to an outsider,as if the delicate little creature had got there by mistake,for she looked very like a tea-rose in a field of clover and dandelions,whose highest aim in life was to feed cows and help make root beer.
When the girls talked over the new society,it pleased Merry very much,and she decided not only to try and love work better,but to convert her family to a liking for pretty things,as she called her own more cultivated tastes.
"I will begin at once,and show them that I don't mean to shirk my duty,though I do want to be nice,"thought she,as she sat at supper one night and looked about her,planning her first move.
Not a very cheering prospect for a lover of the beautiful,certainly,for the big kitchen,though as neat as wax,had nothing lovely in it,except a red geranium blooming at the window.Nor were the people all that could be desired,in some respects,as they sat about the table shovelling in pork and beans with their knives,drinking tea from their saucers,and laughing out with a hearty "Haw,haw,"when anything amused them.Yet the boys were handsome,strong specimens,the farmer a hale,benevolent-looking man,the housewife a pleasant,sharp-eyed matron,who seemed to find comfort in looking often at the bright face at her elbow,with the broad forehead,clear eyes,sweet mouth,and quiet voice that came like music in among the loud masculine ones,or the quick,nervous tones of a woman always in a hurry.
Merry's face was so thoughtful that evening that her father observed it,for,when at home,he watched her as one watches a kitten,glad to see anything so pretty,young,and happy,at its play.
"Little daughter has got something on her mind,I mistrust.Come and tell father all about it,"he said,with a sounding slap on his broad knee as he turned his chair from the table to the ugly stove,where three pairs of wet boots steamed underneath,and a great kettle of cider apple-sauce simmered above.
"When I've helped clear up,I'll come and talk.Now,mother,you sit down and rest;Roxy and I can do everything,"answered Merry,patting the old rocking-chair so invitingly that the tired woman could not resist,especially as watching the kettle gave her an excuse for obeying.
"Well,I don't care if I'd o,for I've been on my feet since five o'clock.Be sure you cover things up,and shut the buttery door,and put the cat down cellar,and sift your meal.I'll see to the buckwheats last thing before I go to bed."Mrs.Grant subsided with her knitting,for her hands were never idle;Tom tilted his chair back against the wall and picked his teeth with his pen-knife;**** got out a little pot of grease,to make the boots water-tight;and Harry sat down at the small table to look over his accounts,with an important air--for everyone occupied this room,and the work was done in the out-kitchen behind.
Merry hated clearing up,but dutifully did every distasteful task,and kept her eye on careless Roxy till all was in order;then she gladly went to perch on her father's knee,seeing in all the faces about her the silent welcome they always wore for the "little one.
"Yes,I do want something,but I know you will say it is silly,"she began,as her father pinched her blooming cheek,with the wish that his peaches would ever look half as well.
"Shouldn't wonder if it was a doll now";and Mr.Grant stroked her head with an indulgent smile,as if she was about six instead of fifteen.
"Why,father,you know I don't!I haven't played with dollies for years and years.No;I want to fix up my room pretty,like Jill's.I'll do it all myself,and only want a few things,for I don't expect it to look as nice as hers."Indignation gave Merry courage to state her wishes boldly,though she knew the boys would laugh.They did,and her mother said in a tone of surprise,"Why,child,what more can you want?I'm sure your room is always as neat as a new pin,thanks to your bringing up,and I told you to have a fire there whenever you wanted to.""Let me have some old things out of the garret,and I'll show you what I want.It is neat,but so bare and ugly I hate to be there.I do so love something pretty to look at!"and Merry gave a little shiver of disgust as she turned her eyes away from the large greasy boot **** was holding up to be sure it was well lubricated all round.
"So do I,and that's a fact.I couldn't get on without my pretty girl here,anyway.Why,she touches up the old place better than a dozen flower-pots in full blow,"said the farmer,as his eye went from the scarlet geranium to the bright young face so near his own.
"I wish I had a dozen in the sitting-room window.Mother says they are not tidy,but I'd keep them neat,and I know you'd like it,"broke in Merrry,glad of the chance to get one of the long-desired wishes of her heart fulfilled.
"I'll fetch you some next time I go over to Ballad's.Tell me what you want,and we'll have a posy bed somewhere round,see if we don't,"said her father,dimly understanding what she wanted.
"Now,if mother says I may fix my room,I shall be satisfied,and I'll do my chores without a bit of fuss,to show how grateful I am,"said the girl,thanking her father with a kiss,and smiling at her mother so wistfully that the good woman could not refuse.
"You may have anything you like out of the blue chest.There's a lot of things there that the moths got at after Grandma died,and I couldn't bear to throw or give 'em away.Trim up your room as you like,and mind you don't forget your part of the bargain,"answered Mrs.Grant,seeing profit in the plan.
"I won't;I'll work all the morning to-morrow,and in the afternoon I'll get ready to show you what I call a nice,pretty room,"answered Merry,looking so pleased it seemed as if another flower had blossomed in the large bare kitchen.
