Fresh Leaves by Fanny Fern

Author:Fanny Fern
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781776670772
Publisher: The Floating Press

CHAPTER XIV.

"I like to live here," said little Fanny, running up to Lucy, with her sun-bonnet hanging at the back of her neck; her cheeks glowing, and her apron full of acorns, pebbles, pine leaves, grasses and flowers; "see here, I tied them up with a blade of grass for you, and here's a white clover; a great bumble bee wanted it, he buzzed and buzzed, but I ran off with it; won't you go with me, grandmother, and help me find a four-leaved clover? Don't sew any more on those old vests. Who taught you to make vests?" asked the little chatterbox.

"O, I learned many—many—years ago," replied Lucy, with a sigh, as she thought of Jacob; "and now you see, dear, what a good thing it is to learn something useful when one is young. If I did not know how to make these vests, I could not pay for this room we live in, you know; here, thread my needle, darling, either the eye is too small, or my eye is too dim; I can't see as well as I used."

"I wish I could do something useful," said Fanny, as she handed back the needle. "I can only brush up the hearth, and fill the tea-kettle, and pick up your spools, and thread your needle, and—what else, grandma?"

"Make this lonely old heart glad, my darling," said Lucy, pressing her lips to Fanny's forehead.

"Why didn't my papa ever come kiss me?" asked Fanny. "Was I too naughty for my papa to love?"

"No—no, my darling," said Lucy, turning away her head to restrain her tears, "you are the best little girl that—but run away, Fanny," said she, fearing to trust herself to speak. "Go find grandma a pretty four-leaved clover."

The child sprang up and bounded toward the door. Standing poised on one foot on the threshold, with her little neck bending forward, she exclaimed eagerly, "Oh, grandma, I dare not; there's a man climbing over the stile into the meadow, with a pack on his back; won't he hurt me?"

"No," said Lucy, peering over her spectacles at the man, and then resuming her seat, "it is only a peddler, Fanny; shops are scarce in the country, so they go round with tapes, needles, and things, to sell the farmers' wives. I am glad he has come, for I want some more sewing-silk to make these button-holes."

"Good day, ma'am," said the peddler, unlading his pack. "Would you like to buy any thing to-day? Combs—collars—needles—pins—tapes—ribbons—laces? buy any thing to-day, ma'am?"

"May I look?" whispered Fanny to Lucy, attracted by the bright show in the box.

"There's a ribbon for your hair," said the peddler, touching her curls caressingly; "and here is a string of beads for your neck. You will let me give them to you, won't you? because I have no little girl to love;" and his voice trembled slightly.

"May I love him, grandma?" whispered Fanny, for there was something in the peddler's voice that brought tears into her eyes. "May I give

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