The Christmas earnings E-Book

Lucy Ellen Guernsey

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 94

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"WHAT are you going to do about Christmas this year?" asked Abby Coles of her cousin Ethel Fletcher, as they walked home from school together one afternoon towards the close of December. "I don't know," said Ethel; "I have not thought much about it yet." "But Christmas is almost here," argued Abby, "and if you are going to make any thing, it is time you began it. I have almost finished my worsted shawl, and am going to knit some scarfs next. Father gave me five dollars to spend, and I am to have five more if I finish the arithmetic before holidays, as I am almost certain I shall. So you see I shall be well off for spending money. What have you commenced?" "Nothing," replied Ethel: "I have not asked father for any money yet, and I don't exactly like to, for when mother told him the other day that she wanted some new things, he said she must wait if she could, for he could not afford it at present."

Leseprobe

THE CHRISTMAS EARNINGS;

OR

ETHEL FLETCHER'S TEMPTATION.

BY

LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY

CONTENTS.

Chapter First.

Chapter Second.

Chapter Third.

Chapter Fourth.

THE

CHRISTMAS EARNINGS.

Chapter First.

"WHAT are you going to do about Christmas this year?" asked Abby Coles of her cousin Ethel Fletcher, as they walked home from school together one afternoon towards the close of December.

"I don't know," said Ethel; "I have not thought much about it yet."

"But Christmas is almost here," argued Abby, "and if you are going to make any thing, it is time you began it. I have almost finished my worsted shawl, and am going to knit some scarfs next. Father gave me five dollars to spend, and I am to have five more if I finish the arithmetic before holidays, as I am almost certain I shall. So you see I shall be well off for spending money. What have you commenced?"

"Nothing," replied Ethel: "I have not asked father for any money yet, and I don't exactly like to, for when mother told him the other day that she wanted some new things, he said she must wait if she could, for he could not afford it at present."

"Oh, that's nothing!" returned Abby. "My father says so half the time, and then very likely, he goes and buys something that costs twice as much as what we asked him for. That's always the way with men."

"But you know my father failed," said Ethel, "and we are not as rich as we were."

"So did my father fail," said Abby; "but I don't see that it makes any difference with us. Come, Ethel, ask your father for some money to-night, and to-morrow we can go out together and get our things. I want you to knit a shawl for your mother like the one I am doing. It would be so becoming to her. And then you ought to do something for Aunt Sally too. You know she won't like it if you don't."

"Mother told me to stop there and do an errand this afternoon," said Ethel: "I don't like to go to see her lately, she is so cross."

"She is cross sometimes," admitted Abby; "but then she always gives us very nice presents."

"Yes, and sometimes I almost wish she didn't," said Ethel. "I feel sometimes very much as if I should like to say, 'Aunt Sally, you may just keep your presents to yourself,' when she has made one of her provoking speeches."

Abby laughed. "Why, Ethel, the presents are just as good, and one need not mind what she says: I don't. Father says we must not get out of patience with her, because she is as rich as a Jew, and can leave her money to any one she pleases."

Ethel made no answer. In this speech, as in many of her cousin's remarks, there was something that grated on her feelings, and she was glad to be spared the necessity of a reply, by their arrival at the door of a house, which bore upon it the name of Mrs. Sarah Bertie.

If days should teach, Mrs. Bertie ought to have been very wise, for she was a very old lady, though she would hardly have thanked any one for telling her so. But the years which had passed over her head had only added to her self-esteem, without increasing her wisdom, and she was now, at seventy-nine, as self-willed, exacting, unreasonable, and petulant, as she had been at fifteen.

She had the misfortune to be the only child of very rich parents, who found it less trouble to humor her in every whim, than to control and regulate her naturally troublesome temper. They found it any thing but a saving of trouble in the end. True, her mother was spared a great deal of trouble by dying when her darling was about fourteen; but her father's death was supposed to be hastened by the perverse conduct of his daughter, who at fifteen ran away with her own cousin, a reckless, wild young man, who having spent all his own money, was desirous of continuing his career of pleasure by spending his cousin's. Mr. Bertie died suddenly, a few months after this marriage, without seeing his daughter, to whom he bequeathed his whole estate, taking care, however, so to arrange matters, that she should enjoy only the income of her property, the principal being tied up beyond the reach of herself or her husband. This was a great disappointment to the latter, and did not tend to sweeten his temper, or make him more patient with the whims and caprices of his young wife, who expected her husband to be her slave as her parents had been.

The result was, that after some years of strife and bitterness, the ill-matched pair separated, and Mr. Bertie went to Europe, where he died not very long after. Mrs. Bertie did not pretend to afflict herself greatly upon that event. She had no children or other incumbrance to prevent her from doing as she pleased, and after travelling about for some years, she finally settled herself down in one of the smaller northern cities, bought a handsome house, and commenced housekeeping in good style.

As she could always be very pleasant when she pleased, she had plenty of society, and her wealth caused her to be very much courted, especially by her husband's nephew, Mr. Coles, Abby's father. Mr. Coles and Mr. Fletcher were cousins, and the families were intimate from that circumstance, though there was between them a great difference, not only of sentiment, but of principle. With all her faults, Mrs. Bertie had some sterling good qualities. She was a warm and generous friend, and a good neighbor and mistress, and her sense of integrity and truthfulness was extreme almost to a fault.

She was sitting in her parlor knitting, with her dog at her feet, as the girls entered, and being in a good-humor, received them graciously.

"And what work are you doing for Christmas?" she inquired, after Ethel had delivered her message. "I shall expect to see something very handsome from you, Ethel, as you have improved so much in working the last year."

"I have not commenced any thing yet, Aunt Sally," replied Ethel.

"Only think, Aunt Sally," exclaimed Abby, who, though good-natured, was a very thoughtless child, "Ethel has not even asked her father for any money yet, just because she heard him tell her mother that he could not afford something."

"Of course he could not afford it, if it was something his wife wanted," ejaculated Aunt Sally, whose theory it was that all men abused all women.

"And Ethel says," continued Abby, unheeding her cousin's looks of entreaty, "that they are poor now, because her father has failed. I am sure we are not poor, and I don't see why cousin George should be."

"Because your cousin George is a fool!" said Mrs. Bertie sharply.

She was always provoked at any mention of her nephew Fletcher's affairs, and being wholly unused to restrain herself from any consideration for the feelings of others, she did not hesitate to express her opinion on this occasion. She was not, however, quite prepared for the effect of her words on one of her auditors.

As she finished her remark, Ethel rose from her chair, and began to put on her gloves without speaking.

"Stop, Ethel, child!"' said her aunt, surprised. "Where are you going?"

"I am going home," replied Ethel with decision, but in a voice which trembled with agitation. "I am not going to stay anywhere to hear my father called a fool. I should think you would be ashamed, Aunt Sally."

Abby looked horrified at this bold speech. She hardly dared to glance at her aunt, but sat in silent terror, expecting some violent outburst. But Mrs. Bertie seemed rather amused than otherwise.

"Well done, Miss Fire-cracker! I like your spirit. But you must not go off so," she continued, seeing that Ethel continued to make preparations for departure. "You know nobody minds my speeches. I am an old woman, and always say just what I think. Come, come, kiss and be friends, and don't quarrel with your old auntie."

Ethel thought her aunt had not mended matters much by her apology, as she had no business to think so. But she was already sensible that she had spoken unbecomingly, and her mother's often repeated words recurred to her mind:

"Aunt Sally is a very old woman, and you must have patience with her."

So she conquered the rising storm so far as to allow herself to be kissed by her aunt and even to eat a piece of plum-cake, though she felt all the time as if it would choke her. She was glad when they were once more in the street, where she could speak her mind freely.

"Hateful old thing!" she said, more to herself than to her companion. "She may keep her cake and sweetmeats to herself. I will never go there again, if I can help it."

"Then you will be the loser," remarked Abby. "You know she can leave her fortune to whom she pleases."

"I don't care for her fortune," interrupted Ethel, more angry than ever. "She may leave it to whom she likes, for all I care. I should be ashamed to coax and flatter her for her money, or her presents either. To go and call my father a fool—" and here Ethel paused, partly for want of breath, and partly because she felt herself in imminent danger of crying.

"Well, well," said Abby soothingly, "you must not be angry with me, Ethel. I am sure I only spoke for your good. You know Aunt Sally says when she is in a good-humor, that she shall leave her money to whom she likes best; and after all, she is very good to us generally, though she does say vexatious things. But really, Ethel, I don't see into it—why you should be poor, I mean. A good many people failed in the fall besides your father. There was my father, and Mr. Peet, and Mr. Larkins, and the Mr. Wileys; and none of them were much the poorer for it that I could see, only the Wileys, and my father said they managed badly. But here is my turning-off place, so good-bye. Be sure and get your money to-night, and I will call for you to-morrow."

Ethel bade her cousin good-by, and walked on, pondering deeply, and feeling very unhappy and dissatisfied—first with herself for having been so much out of humor, and speaking unbecomingly, and then with her circumstances. She did not understand the matter any better than Abby. Her father had been for many years a manufacturer in very prosperous circumstances. The tastes and habits of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher did not lead them to launch out into the foolish extravagance of dress and equipage which characterized so many people at the time of our story; but they were persons of very elegant tastes, fond of literature and art, and Mr. Fletcher prided himself upon his superb collection of engravings and books, to which he was constantly making additions.