b Fis Ve Batty Taeoeem NOTTS a Ee ie ante "i eer # Be NE. AA LiF i} force 2 hs love F joe tt eee PP JEG S Twenty Little Maidens AUDREY. Din Little Maidens Bie UNV Ve ie Bile © leave Ie) ILLUSTRATIONS BY IDA WAUGH LONDON “ISBISTER AND COMPANY Lrmirep r5 & 16 TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN 1894 Printed by BALLANTYNE, Hanson & Co. London and Edinburgh To MY SISTER'S “LITTLE MAIDENS,” MAY AND AMY, THESE STORIES ARE LOVINGLY DEDICATED. ELsIE RHODA AGNES DoroTHY MILLICENT Lois. JANET OLNEY BERTHA. MARGERY Mary AUDREY KATHERINE RuTH HELENA * GWENDOLINE MADELINE MARGARET . ‘GERTRUDE _ Amy, CONTENTS. PAGE 108 116 124 134 143 I51 ELSIE. ELSIE. 6 LHEY were delighted, the shadow people, for all their lives long they had been trying to attract notice, and now in the heart of a great city, on this New Year’s Eve, they were to be seen more plainly than ever before; and, strange to say, as is the case so often in a big city, the night was to become their play-time rather than the day. “Qho! Mr. Sun,” laughed one little wizened creature, dimly seen under a tree, “we do not need you now to show us off. You may get angry, and hide yourself whenever you please, we do not care.” | “Aha! Mr. Sun,” said a graceful, swaying figure that danced up and down on the walk, “I can dance to-night too, if I wish, and not depend upon you, nor the moon either.” Then the shadow people twisted themselves and poked out 5 6 ELSIE. their pointed chins, and nodded their peaky-capped heads in high glee. It was nearly dark ; people were hurrying home laden with packages; ladies from their shopping, shop-girls with their baskets, working-men with their pails, trooped through the square in one continuous stream, which thinned into groups, and finally only one or two at a time straggled along. Then the square became nearly empty. Suddenly such a burst of light, whiter than moonlight, was shed over everything; and quite as suddenly all the shadow people came out from their hiding-places, big and little, tall and short; they crowded the place, and oh, how plainly they could be seen! Every little twist and turn showed distinctly. : “See the electric lights,” said some one, “ how strong they are; and look, our pathway is carpeted with the loveliest designs in black and white.” How the little elfish heads nodded as that couple passed on! As one after another went through the square, some noticed the shadows’ fantastic drawing, some saw that they were shadows, but nothing more, and many never noticed them at all; very few knew of the quaint little figures which danced when the trees swayed. It was nearly ten o’clock when a little girl crept slowly _and timidly along the walk; ragged and hungry, she stopped by a bench and looked eagerly around to see if one of the ELSTE. 7 . little ones who had been playing in the afternoon sunshine had dropped a cake or a cracker; none there, she passed on to the next, and so on till she was rewarded by a few bits of biscuit which the birds had failed to find. Then she crept under the bench. How the shadow people danced! “See us! See us!” they said to her. “You must look; we are to be seen so plainly.” And the little girl looked, at first seeing only the tracery of twigs and branches, but soon there was something more: little faces peered out at her, hands waved to her, long fingers beckoned. . “What are you?” she asked. “We are the shadow people,” answered they. “T have a shadow too, sometimes,” said the little girl. “Yes,” said the shadow people, “ but your shadow changes, changes, changes,” and as they said the word they all bobbed up and down. “When you were a little baby it was a different shadow, and when you are grown it will be a different shadow. We are not that kind: we know no change but winter and summer; we do not run around after folks; we stop here and dance, dance, dance,” all bobbing up and down again. “We are not the kind of shadows either that people are hoping will follow the Old Year when he goes out to-night; we are not those dreary things. Your shadow creeps along beside you like a dog and is not merry. See how merry we are.” “You would not be merry either,” returned the little girl, 8 ELSTE. “if your father had kicked you out into the street, and if you were cold, and hungry, and sore all over.” The shadow people all stopped dancing. “ Poor little girl,” they whispered, “I wonder if we can do anything for you; we will try, try, try,” they all said, bobbing again. “Get farther from the tree, and farther under the bench, or the policeman will see you.” So the little girl dragged herself farther along, and the shadows bobbed all over the bench. She stretched out an arm toward them, and they put their fingers on her hand. “Take care!” they whispered, “take care! Don’t put your hand out again till we tell you. We have an idea, if we can only use it when the New Year is coming in. Go to sleep till we waken you.” - She went to sleep, and slept for nearly two hours, then she was awakened, and she heard the sound of feet and the murmur of voices. People were coming from the theatre; it was so light that, at first, the little girl thought it must be daylight, but when she saw the shadow people she knew better, and lay quite still. “How bright it is!” she heard some one say. “ Do look at these dancing shadows, Philip; are they not beautiful? Let us stop and look at them a moment; one could almost fancy there were little faces among them. Are they the shadows of the Old Year’s follies, or are they the elves who come to attend the birth of the New Year?” ELSTE. 8 How the shadows danced then, and laughed silently! “She'll do! she'll do!” they said; but the lady did not hear them, or, if she had heard, she would have thought it only the rustle of dry leaves on the ground, “See that one,” she went on; “it looks like an old woman; no, like a man with a cap on; and, I declare, that is a real hand with a pointing finger.” “Stretch out your hand!” cried the shadows to the little girl, and she stretched out her poor little hand from under the bench. | “TJ wonder if it is pointing at anything,” the lady went on, musingly. “You are full of fancies to-night,” said the man she had called Philip. “Are you moonstruck by these bright moons on the end of a pole? Come, dear, it is New Year’s morning: the clocks are striking twelve. You will get cold, mild as it is, standing here.” “It is pointing at something,” cried the lady, eagerly. “See that poor little hand; that is not a shadow, though it is thin enough.” | The man stooped down and spied the little girl curled up under the bench. “What are you doing there, child?” he asked. “Come out and give an account of yourself.” “Go! go!” cried the shadow people. She crept out, and stood up in all the misery of rags and hunger. 10 ‘ ELSIE. “What is your name, and where did you come from?” asked the man. . “My name is Elsie,” said the little girl, “and father kicked me out, so I came here, and the shadows told me to go to sleep.” The lady smiled. ‘So you saw the shadows too,” she said. “ Have you no mother?” “T had, in the country, but she died, and father came here; then he married another woman-who had a shop, but she lost all her money and used to send me out begging, but I could not beg very well, and when I brought home nothing she would beat me. She scolds so that father drinks all the time, and to-night they said it cost too much to keep me, so I might go where I could, and they kicked me out. It isn’t so very cold under the bench,” she said, raising her blue eyes to the lady’s face. The man looked down at his wife. ‘Shall we try it?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” she answered. “Would it not be a good way to greet the New Year? Oh, how those bells are chiming! as if they still echoed the Christmas song ‘ Peace and good will.’ Can we listen to them and turn away from this little homeless waif? And, Philip, she may be a great help to us.” “ Will you go home with us, Elsie?” asked the man. “I am a doctor; we have only a tiny house, but if you are honest, and can help us keep it clean and neat, we shall be glad to give you a home.” ELSTE. 1 So home she went that early New Year’s morning, leaving sorrow, and wretchedness, and woe with the Old Year. And she was honest and learned fast, running errands with willing feet, or washing dishes and dusting about, till she has become a tidy, helpful little maid, and is very proud of her housekeeping, and of having a word of praise from the doctor. As for the doctor’s wife, there never was such a lovely lady, to Elsie, and she tells the shadow people so every time she goes through the square, and the shadows bob up and down and say, “ We knew it! we knew it!” for they are wise little shadows and see a deal of life in the square, see and hear more than we could ever imagine. LHE wind was whispering among the corn, rustling about the long blades, waving their green lengths back and forth, and swinging the tasselled tops, which rose high above the head of a little child almost hidden by the tall stalks. Rhoda was wandering about the cornfield, peeping up at the blue sky which she could see between the waving corn. “I wish I had a doll to play with,” thought Rhoda. “If Lizzie had not broken my Annette I could play with her.” The little girl sat down disconsolately upon a stone; presently up hopped a little dusty toad and squatted down close beside her: he blinked at her with his funny pop-eyes. Rhoda looked at him. “ What an ugly doll - you would make, toady !” she said. ‘“ Now, maybe I have hurt his feelings,” exclaimed she. “Never mind, little toady, you might be a great deal uglier.” The toad hopped away. 12 RHODA. RHODA. 13 “I wonder if his feelings really are hurt?” said Rhoda. “Ah, there is a dear ‘Bob White’ whistling down by the hedge. I should love a Bob White to play with, but I never could catch one in the world.” She rested her chin in her hands, and watched the white clouds sailing over the sky. The crickets were chirping in the grass, and every little while a grasshopper would suddenly rise up and, with a whir, fly past her. “Dear me!” said Rhoda, “I have been playing with grass- hoppers all summer long, and cats. Cats do very well indeed. I have nothing in the world to say against the dear pussy cats, but one does get tired of them, they are so very lively sometimes.” Just then a little brown wren came and alighted on an ear of corn close to where Rhoda was sitting; he turned his little sleek head first this way and then that, suddenly bursting into one of the sweetest little songs imaginable. He looked at Rhoda, gave a peck or two at the corn, and then flew away. “What a dear little fellow he is!” thought Rhoda. “I wish he would tell me where to get a doll to play with.” In a moment the bird came flying back, and alighted on the same spot. “Why, here he is back again!” said Rhoda. “ Little bird, what shall I get to play with?” The little bird hopped back and forth on the corn, then pecked at the ear once or twice, giving a look at Rhoda as he 14 : RHODA: did so; then he lifted up his pretty head, gave another burst of song, and flew away. “Why,” exclaimed Rhoda, clapping his hands, “if he hasn’t shown me the nicest doll!” And she ran up to the ear of corn and broke it off, then went to the house as quickly as she could. In a few minutes she had an apron carefully wrapped around her new nursling, and was sitting contentedly on the back porch, singing her dolly to sleep. Her mother stopped on the way to the garden to say, “What dolly have you to-day, Rhoda, old puss or one of the kittens ?” “T have a lovely new dolly,” said Rhoda, looking up with a shining face. “Her name is Corn Silk. See, mother, what beautiful brown hair she has; real hair.” And Rhoda passed a caressing hand over the flowing tresses which hung down her dolly’s back. “ Where did you get her?” asked Rhoda’s mother, laughing. “She grew for me,” replied Rhoda, “and there are plenty ~ more like her. She looks very nice when you cover her up well, but she hasn’t any feet; mother, don’t you tell that, for I want to forget it myself.” Her mother promised not to tell, and went on. Rhoda rocked little Corn Silk to sleep, and then put her in a little bed made of a box-full of leaves. She covered her over with a handkerchief, and the long hair was carefully spread outside the quilt, so as to show to the best advantage. RHODA. 15 Then Rhoda went off to the orchard to get a summer apple while Corn Silk was taking her nap. She found a sweet yellow apple, and walked on toward the road, but concluded, if she were going to take a walk, that Corn Silk had better go too, for she might wake up and miss her. So she ran back to the house, picked up Corn Silk from her crib, wrapped the brown gingham apron closely around her, and went back through the orchard. The orchard ran along by the road on one side, and Rhoda _ would sometimes sit on the fence and watch to see if any one would pass by. On mail-days there would be quite a number of carriages, wagons, or horsemen, but on other days it was very quiet, and she would see only a stray traveller. Although this was not mail-day, Rhoda thought she should enjoy sitting on the fence and showing the road to Corn Silk, who, she knew, had never seen it. a “Now, Corn Silk,” she said, “I am going to sit on the fence, and put you in this little corner where the rails stick up. You mustn’t try to get down, for you might fall; however, I know you cannot break; that makes you ever so much nicer than other dolls, for, even if you should fall out of a tree, you would be as good as ever. I really think you are the nicest doll I ever had.” And Rhoda held her off admiringly before she settled her in the corner. As soon as they were comfortably seated Rhoda thought of her apple; it was sweet and juicy, and had a fine summery flavor. She gravely shared it with Corn Silk, and had just 16 RHODA. thrown away the core when she saw a light carriage coming down the road. There was no one in the carriage but a lady, who, seeing Rhoda, stopped her horse. “Can you tell me how far it is to the Cross Roads?” she - asked. “Tt is about a mile, straight ahead,” replied Rhoda, who had picked up Corn Silk, and had jumped down from her perch. “Then which way do you turn to go to Dr. Newton’s?” “To the right,” said Rhoda; “but there is a nearer way than that, only you have to go through the bars, but I will let them down for you; they are just at the end of the orchard.” And, without waiting, Rhoda ran on, reaching the bars almost as soon as the horse did. “Now, if you go straight on through the woods, you will come to Dr. Newton’s place,” said Rhoda. “ You will come in back of the barn, and you will save nearly a mile.” “Thank you so much,” said the lady. “ Won’t you tell me your name?” “Tt is Rhoda Converse,” replied the little girl. “T see you have a doll,” said the lady. “ What beautiful hair she has!” “Yes,” said Rhoda, proudly stroking it; but, unfortunately, at that moment the apron in which the doll was dressed became loosened, and down poor Corn Silk fell, showing her legless and armless condition. RHODA. 17 Rhoda Jooked down rather shamefacedly; but, catching the lady’s eye, she laughed, and so did her new friend, who said,— , “T think she is a very nice doll, anyhow; I never saw one like her before. Do you like her better than the ones you buy in the shops ?” . “Yes, I believe I do,” replied Rhoda, “for all I have to do is to go out to the cornfield and get her, and she never breaks. I had a lovely doll, but some one broke it.” “That was too bad,” responded her friend. ‘“ What is your doll’s name?” “Corn Silk,” answered Rhoda. “ But. what will you do when it gets cold, and there are no: more dolls growing in the field ?” Rhoda looked distressed. ‘I don’t know,” said she. Then she looked up brightly. “ Perhaps Santa Claus will bring me a new one,” she added. “T have no doubt of it,” said the lady, nodding. “And now I must goon. Good-by, Rhoda. You have been quite a help to me.” | Rhoda picked up Corn Silk and turned toward home, for it was near dinner-time. For a long time Corn Silk and Rhoda had good times. together: they had parties down by the spring, and they went fishing in the creek; they swung in the old apple-tree in the orchard, and they went to sleep together in Rhoda’s little bed. B 18 RHODA. ‘The man in the moon laughed when he saw them lying asleep together, and he gave an extra smile to the cornfield for Rhoda’s sake. 7 Every week Rhoda would go to the cornfield for a new Corn Silk, though it was always the same one to her. She pretended that the shrivelled and wrinkled one, of the last week, had taken a bath and changed her clothes. She would always go down late Saturday evening and lay the discarded ear of corn under a corn-stalk, and on Monday morning she would go to a different stalk to get a fresh one. But the day came when the corn was yellow, and the har- vesters came to gather it in. So that was the end of it all for poor Rhoda. She sobbed over the last ear she could play with, and mournfully lay Corn Silk, for the last time, out in the moonbeams. The man in the moon looked down at her, still smiling, for he knew a secret, and a day or two after Rhoda had a great surprise. A neighbor drove up to the gate and handed her a box, which he said he had found at the express-office for Miss Rhoda Converse. Rhoda could hardly wait till she found her mother, and together they opened the box, in which—oh, delight !—they found a lovely doll, dressed _ beautifully in a little silk dress just the color of green corn; a bewitching little hat rested upon her wavy hair, which was as soft as corn silk. Rhoda screamed with joy, while her _ mother read from a card, “From Eunice Alden, with a loving remembrance of Rhoda and Corn Silk.” RHODA. 19 “Oh, mother!” cried Rhoda, “I know it is the lady for whom I let down the bars, for no one else could have known Corn Silk.” Rhoda is a big girl now, but she still has the doll named after Eunice Alden, and, though she loves her very much, she never sees a cornfield that she does not givea sigh for her dear little Corn Silk. AGNES. N an old-fashioned house, with great white pillars in front, lived a little girl with her mother and her grandfather. A broad river flowed within sight of the house, which was on @ high bluff, and toward the river sloped a great old garden, part of which was under cultivation and part was a tangle of wild blackberries, with here and there a stray stalk of corn or a bunch of aspar- agus, which had chosen to retire from their more sociable neighbors to live a life off to themselves. There were some rose-bushes, too, which found their way through the weeds, and, side by side with the blackberries, sent out slender briery shoots, bearing sweet yellow roses. A low stone wall ran along one side of the garden, and beyond that was the orchard. Agnes was a quiet, thoughtful child, and, having no play- mates, she wandered over the old place talking to birds and 20 AGNES. AGNES. 21 trees, or else she would go down to the old quarters where Mammy Pris and Uncle ’Rius lived; they were the only ser- vants left on the place, and loved every inch of it, still holding to the greatness of the “fam’ly,” from which the glory had indeed departed, for the old house had seen its best days,— pieces of plaster were continually falling, floors were sunken, and stairways unsteady ; but Uncle ’Rius still maintained it was the finest place in the land, and Mammy Pris drew herself up proudly when she talked of “we-alls” former grandeur. Old Judge Nelson, bent with the weariness of years and the weight of sorrow, lived in the past, and sat by the open fire day in and day out, once in a while taking his stick and walking to the back porch, where he would feast his eyes on the view, give a long sigh, and then return to his old leather chair by the chimney corner. Agnes’s mother was a sweet, sad woman, who had lost hus- band and brothers in the war, and in trying to keep together the clothing and household linen of the family found her time fully occupied in mending and patching. Agnes had lessons every day from old-fashioned books, such as her father had studied in his boyhood, and which, even then, were somewhat out of date; but her store of knowledge was sound, and gave a soberer bent to her thoughts than more modern study would have done. Lessons done, she ran, often barefooted, over the place, picking berries, rambling through the garden, or she sat by the hour perched ona high rock 22 AGNES. overlooking the river. How many ships came up that river to Agnes, and what fairy freight they held! But, alas! they were only phantom ships, whose name was always “ Day Dream,” and they vanished away with the practical sense of hunger which would overtake Agnes’s musings, and send her back to the house to dinner or supper, often too scanty a meal for a healthy appetite. But Agnes’s chief employment was digging; that might seem very queer unless one knew her reason. During the war the family valuables, including quite a sum in gold coin, had been buried hastily by one of the servants, a trustworthy man, who was left by the family to watch the place, as they hurriedly made their escape, fearing danger to the baby Agnes and her mother. The old man, Jonas, was found dead a few days later, shot through the heart; whether accidentally or not was never found out, but the secret of the hiding-place died with him, and no one was ever able to discover it. : “Mamma,” Agnes said, as she ran in one day, “I am afraid my shoes will not stand another cobbling, and I have tried to run barefoot all I could this summer.” . _