Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (have you read this book txt) 📖
- Author: Various None
Book online «Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (have you read this book txt) 📖». Author Various None
Looked A Comfortable Big Creature, And Belonged To The House Doubtless,
For He Stared At Her With An Interested, Questioning Look. Presently He
Moved. She Repeated Her Invitation, Whereon The Cat Slowly Rose To His
Feet, Humped His Back And Yawned, Then Deliberately Turned Quite Round,
Facing The Other Way, And Resumed His Watchful Attitude, His Tail Tucked
In And His Ears Folded Back Close, As If To Give The Cold Wind As Little
Purchase As Possible. Baubie Felt Snubbed And Lonely, And Drawing Back
From The Window She Sat Down On The Edge Of Her Bed To Wait Events.
Accustomed As She Was To Excitement, The Experiences Of The Last Few
Days Were Of A Nature To Affect Even Stronger Nerves Than Hers, And The
Unwonted Bodily Sensations Caused By The Bath And Change Of Garments
Seemed To Intensify Her Consciousness Of Novelty And Restraint. There
Was Another Not Very Pleasant Sensation Too, Of Which She Herself Had
Not Taken Account, Although It Was Present And Made Itself Felt Keenly
Enough. It Was Her Strange Sense Of Desolation And Grief At The Parting
From Her Father. Baubie Herself Would Have Been Greatly Puzzled Had Any
Person Designated Her Feelings By These Names. There Were Many Things In
That Philosophy Of The Gutter In Which Baubie Wishart Was Steeped To The
Lips Undreamt Of By Her. What She Knew She Knew Thoroughly, But There
Was Much With Which Most Children, Even Of Her Age And Class In Life,
Are, It Is To Be Hoped, Familiar, Of Which Baubie Wishart Was Utterly
Ignorant. Her Circumstances Were Different From Theirs--Fortunately For
Them; And Amongst The Poor, As With Their Betters, Various Conditions
Breed Various Dispositions. Baubie Was An Outer Barbarian And Savage In
Comparison With Some Children, Although They Perhaps Went Barefooted
Also; But, Like A Savage Too, She Would Have Grown Fat Where They Would
Have Starved. And This She Knew Well.
Kate'S Yellow Head, Appearing At The Door To Summon Her To Dinner, Put
An End To Her Gloomy Reverie. And With This, Her First Meal, Began
Baubie'S Acquaintance With The Household Of Which She Was To Form An
Integral Portion From That Hour.
They Gave Her No Housework To Do. Mrs. Duncan, Whom A Very Cursory
Examination Satisfied As To The Benighted Ignorance Of This Latest
Addition To Her Flock, Determined That Baubie Should Learn To Read,
Write And Sew As Expeditiously As Might Be. In Order That She Might
Benefit By Example, She Was Made To Sit By The Lassie Grant, The Child
Whose Clothes Had Been Lent To Her, And Her Education Began Forthwith.
It Was Tame Work To Baubie, Who Did Not Love Sitting Still: "White Seam"
Was A Vexation Of Spirit, And Her Knitting, In Which She Had Beforehand
Believed Herself An Adept, Was Found Fault With. The Lassie Grant, As
Was Pointed Out To Her, Could Knit More Evenly And Possessed A Superior
Method Of "Turning The Heel."
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 92Baubie Wishart Listened With Outward Calmness And Seeming Acquiescence
To The Comparison Instituted Between Herself And Her Neighbor. Inwardly,
However, She Raged. What About Knitting? Anybody Could Knit. She Would
Like To See The Lassie Grant Earn Two Shillings Of A Saturday Night
Singing In The High Street Or The Lawnmarket. Baubie Forgot In Her Flush
Of Triumphant Recollection That There Had Always Been Somebody To Take
The Two Shillings From Her, And Beat Her And Accuse Her Of Malversation
And Embezzlement Into The Bargain. Artist-Like, She Remembered Her
Triumphs Only: She Could Earn Two Shillings By Her Braced Of Songs, And
For A Minute, As She Revelled In This Proud Consciousness, Her Face Lost
Its Demure, Watchful Expression, And The Old Independent, Confident
Bearing Reappeared. Baubie Forgot Also In Her Present Well-Nourished
Condition The Never-Failing Sensation Of Hunger That Had Gone Hand In
Hand With These Departed Glories. But Even If She Had Remembered Every
Circumstance Of Her Former Life, And The Privations And Sufferings, She
Would Still Have Pined For Its Freedom.
The Consequence Of Her Being Well Fed Was Simply That Her Mind Was Freed
From What Is, After All, The Besetting Occupation Of Creatures Like Her,
And Was Therefore At Liberty To Bestow Its Undivided Attention Upon The
Restraints And Irksomeness Of This New Order Of Things. Her Gypsy Blood
Began To Stir In Her: The Charm Of Her Old Vagabond Habits Asserted
Itself Under The Wincey Frock And Clean Apron. To Be Commended For
Knitting And Sewing Was No Distinction Worth Talking About. What Was It
Compared With Standing Where The Full Glare Of The Blazing Windows Of
Some Public-House Fell Upon The Rob Roy Tartan, With An Admiring
Audience Gathered Round And Bawbees And Commendations Flying Thick? She
Never Thought Then, Any More Than Now, Of The Cold Wind Or The Day-Long
Hunger. It Was No Wonder That Under The Influence Of These Cherished
Recollections "White Seam" Did Not Progress And The Knitting Never
Attained To The Finished Evenness Of The Lassie Grant'S Performance.
None The Less, Although She Made No Honest Effort To Equal This Model
Proposed For Her Example, Did Baubie Feel Jealous And Aggrieved. Her
Nature Recognized Other Possibilities Of Expression And Other Fields Of
Excellence Beyond Those Afforded By The Above-Mentioned Useful Arts, And
She Brooded Over Her Arbitrary And Forcedly Inferior Position With All
The Intensity Of A Naturally Masterful And Passionate Nature. It Was All
The More Unbearable Because She Had No Real Cause Of Complaint: Had She
Been Oppressed Or Ill-Treated In The Slightest Degree, Or Had Anybody
Else Been Unduly Favored, There Would Have Been A Pretext For An
Outbreak Or A Shadow Of A Reason For Her Discontent. But It Was Not So.
The Matron Dispensed Even-Handed Justice And Motherly Kindness
Impartially All Round. And If The Lassie Grant'S Excellences Were
Somewhat Obtrusively Contrasted With Baubie'S Shortcomings, It Was
Because, The Two Children Being Of The Same Age, Mrs. Duncan Hoped To
Rouse Thereby A Spark Of Emulation In baubie. Neither Was There Any
Pharisaical Self-Exaltation On The Part Of The Rival. She Was A
Sandy-Haired Little Girl, An Orphan Who Had Been Three Years In The
Refuge, And Who In Her Own Mind Rather Deprecated As Unfair Any
Comparison Drawn Between Herself And The Newly-Caught Baubie.
Day Followed Day Quietly, And Baubie Had Been Just A Week In The Refuge,
When Miss Mackenzie, Faithful To Her Promise, Called To Inquire How Her
_Protegee_ Was Getting On.
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 93The Matron Gave Her Rather A Good Character Of Baubie. "She'S Just No
Trouble--A Quiet-Like Child. She Knows Just Nothing, But I'Ve Set Her
Beside The Lassie Grant, And I Don'T Doubt But She'Ll Do Well Yet; But
She Is Some Dull," She Added.
"Are You Happy, Baubie?" Asked Miss Mackenzie. "Will You Try And Learn
Everything Like 'Lisbeth Grant? See How Well She Sews, And She Is No
Older Than You."
"Ay, Mem," Responded Baubie, Meekly And Without Looking Up. She Was
Still Wearing 'Lisbeth Grant'S Frock And Apron, And The Garments Gave
Her That Odd Look Of Their Real Owner Which Clothes So Often Have The
Power Of Conveying. Baubie'S Slim Figure Had Caught The Flat-Backed,
Square-Shoulder Form Of Her Little Neighbor, And Her Face, Between The
Smooth-Laid Bands Of Her Hair, Seemed To Have Assumed The Same
Gravely-Respectable Air. The Disingenuous Roving Eye Was There All The
Time, Could They But Have Noted It, And Gave The Lie To Her Compressed
Lips And Studied Pose.
That Same Day The Rob Roy Tartan Frock Made Its Appearance From The
Wash, Brighter As To Hue, But Somewhat Smaller And Shrunken In Size, As
Was The Nature Of Its Material For One Reason, And For Another Because
It Had Parted, In common With Its Owner When Subjected To The Same
Process, With A Great Deal Of Extraneous Matter. Baubie Saw Her Familiar
Garb Again With Joy, And Put It On With Keen Satisfaction.
That Same Night, When The Girls Were Going To Bed--Whether The
Inspiration Still Lingered, In Spite Of Soapsuds, About The Red Frock,
And Was By It Imparted To Its Owner, Or Whether It Was Merely The
Prompting Of That Demon Of Self-Assertion That Had Been Tormenting Her
Of Late--Baubie Wishart Volunteered A Song, And, Heedless Of
Consequences, Struck Up One Of The Two Which Formed Her Stock In Trade.
The Unfamiliar Sounds Had Not Long Disturbed The Quiet Of The House When
The Matron And Kate, Open-Eyed With Wonder, Hastened Up To Know What Was
The Meaning Of This Departure From The Regular Order Of Things. Baubie
Heard Their Approach, And Only Sang The Louder. She Had A Good And By No
Means Unmusical Voice, Which The Rest Had Rather Improved; And By The
Time The Authorities Arrived On The Scene There Was An Audience Gathered
Round The Daring Baubie, Who, With Shoes And Stockings Off And The Rob
Roy Tartan Half Unfastened, Was Standing By Her Bed, Singing At The
Pitch Of Her Voice. The Words Could Be Heard Down The Stairs:
Hark! I Hear The Bugles Sounding: 'Tis The Signal For The Fight.
Now, May God Protect Us, Mother, As He Ever Does The Right.
"Baubie Wishart," Cried The Astonished Mistress, "What Do You Mean?"
The Singer Was Just At The Close Of A Verse:
Hear The Battle-Cry Of Freedom! How It Swells Upon The Air!
Yes, We'Ll Rally Round The Standard Or We'Ll Perish Nobly There.
She Finished It Off Deliberately, And Turned Her Bright Eyes And Flushed
Face Toward The Speaker.
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 94"Who Gave You Leave, Baubie Wishart," Went On The Angry Matron, "To Make
Yon Noise? You Ought To Think Shame Of Such Conduct, Singing Your
Good-For-Nothing Street-Songs Like A Tinkler. One Would Think Ye Would
Feel Glad Never To Hear Of Such Things Again. Let Me Have No More Of
This, Do Ye Hear? I Just Wonder What Miss Mackenzie Would Say To
Ye!--Kate, Stop Here Till They Are All Bedded And Turn Off Yon Gas."
Long Before The Gas Was Extinguished Baubie Had Retired Into Darkness
Beneath The Bed-Clothes, Rage And Mortification Swelling Her Small
Heart. Good-For-Nothing Street-Songs! Tinkler! Mrs. Duncan'S Scornful
Epithets Rang In Her Ears And Cut Her To The Quick. She Lay Awake,
Trembling With Anger And Indignation, Until Long After Kate Had Followed
The Younger Fry To Rest, And Their Regular Breathing, Which Her Ears
Listened For Till They Caught It From Every Bed, Warned Her That
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