Читать книгу A Daughter of the Union - Lucy Foster Madison - Страница 4

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“That finishes everything,” exclaimed Jeanne Vance, placing a neatly folded handkerchief in a basket. “And oh, girls, what a little bit of a pile it makes!”

The five girls drew their chairs closer to the basket and gazed ruefully at its contents.

“How many handkerchiefs are there, Jeanne?” asked one.

“There are fifty handkerchiefs and five pairs of socks. It seemed like a great many when we took them to make, but what do they amount to after all?”

“There isn’t much that girls can do anyway,” spoke another. “If we were boys we could go to the war, or, if we were women we could be nurses. I don’t like being just a girl!”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind it so much if there was anything I could do,” remarked Jeanne who seemed to be the leader. “But when Dick is in the army, father in government service, and mother at work all day in the Relief Association, it is pretty hard not to be able to do anything but hem handkerchiefs and make socks.”

“A great many persons don’t even do that,” said Nellie Drew, the youngest girl of the party. “And they are grown-up people, too.”

“Then the more shame to them,” cried Jeanne indignantly. “In such a war as ours every man, woman and child in the United States ought to be interested. I don’t see how any one can help being so. For my part, I am going to do all that I can for the soldiers if it is only to hem handkerchiefs.”

“What else could we do? We can’t help being girls, and Miss Thornton was pleased when we asked for more work. She said that our last socks were done as well as women could do them. I am sure that that is something.”

“That is true,” admitted Jeanne soberly. “I have heard mother say that some of the things were so poorly made that the ladies were ashamed to send them to the front, but that often the need was so urgent that they were compelled to do it. I am willing to knit socks and to hem handkerchiefs, but I would like to do something else too. There is so much to be done that I don’t feel as if I were doing all that I might do.”

“We don’t either, Jeanne, and if you know of anything we will gladly help to do it,” cried the girls together.

“I don’t know of anything else, girls, but maybe I can think of something,” said Jeanne, looking at the earnest faces before her.

It was a bright May afternoon in the year of 1862, and the great conflict between the North and the South was waging fiercely. The terrible battle of Shiloh of the month before had dispelled some of the illusions of the North and the people were awakening to the fact that a few victories were not sufficient to overthrow the Confederacy.

Aid societies under the United States Sanitary Commission for the relief of the soldiers were springing up all over the Union, and patriotism glowed brightly inflaming the hearts of rich and poor alike. This zeal was not confined to the old but animated the minds of the young as well. Numerous instances are recorded of little girls who had not yet attained their tenth year denying themselves the luxuries and toys they had long desired and toiling with a patience and perseverance wholly foreign to childish nature, to procure or to make something of value for their country’s defenders.

Our group of girls was only one among many banded together for the purpose of doing whatever they could for the relief of the boys in blue, and their young hearts were overwhelmed with a sense of their impotence. Jeanne Vance, a tall, slender, fair-haired girl of sixteen, serious and thoughtful beyond her years, was the leader in every patriotic enterprise of her associates.

Her father since the beginning of the war had devoted himself exclusively to furthering the interests of the government; her mother was a prominent worker in The Woman’s Central Relief Association, giving her whole time to collecting supplies and money to be forwarded to the front and providing work for the wives, mothers and daughters of the soldiers. Her brother, Richard Vance, had responded to the first call of President Lincoln to arms: thus the girl was surrounded by influences that filled her being to the utmost with intense loyalty to the Union.

As she looked at the eagerly waiting girls around her a sudden inspiration came to her.

“Let’s give a fair, girls. We could make pretty things to sell and I am willing that all my toys and games shall be sold too. Perhaps we could get a great deal of money that way, and I am sure that even a little would be welcome.”

“But how about the socks and handkerchiefs? Shall we give up making them?”

“No, indeed! We must keep right on with those, but this fair will be all our own effort. I believe that we will feel as if we were really doing something worth while if we can manage it. What do you say?”

“It is the very thing,” cried they. “When shall we begin?”

“This afternoon,” said Jeanne energetically. “There is no time like the present. This is May. We ought to be ready by the last of June. We can do a great deal in that time if we work hard.”

“And we can get our mothers to help us too,” suggested Nellie Drew.

“We ought not to do that, Nellie,” replied Jeanne seriously. “They are so busy themselves, and it would not be truly ours if we have the older ones to help. Don’t you think we ought to do just the very best we can without them?”

“Oh, yes, yes!” chorused the girls.

“I can make pretty pin cushions,” said a girl about Jeanne’s age. “I will make as many of them as I can.”

“I can do pen wipers very nicely, mamma says,” spoke Nellie modestly.

“Mother always lets me help dress the dolls for Christmas,” cried another.

“Where will we have it, Jeanne?”

Jeanne looked puzzled for a moment. “I’ll tell you, girls. Let’s have it on our steps. We’ll have a big card telling all about it printed and put up. Then people will stop and buy things when they know it is for the soldiers.”

“On your steps,” cried Nellie. “Oh, Jeanne, will your mother let you? It is right on Fifth Avenue.”

“Why, mother won’t care!” answered Jeanne, surprised at the question. “Fifth Avenue is the best place in New York for anything of the sort, because so many well-to-do people pass, and they will be sure to be generous for the soldiers’ sake.”

“Mercy, Jeanne, where did you learn so much about things?” gasped Nellie in admiration. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Well,” said Jeanne, flushing at the praise, “I hear mother and the ladies talking, you know. They say that such things must always be taken into consideration. If you have anything to sell, or you want money, you must go where there is money to be had. I know the ladies do that in their fairs.”

“Then of course that is the way to do,” remarked a tall girl decidedly. “Let’s take our handkerchiefs and socks to the Relief rooms and begin right away.”

The girls set to work joyfully, and labored zealously for their fair. Their parents were amused at their earnestness, but seeing them happy and contented encouraged them in their efforts. The days were busy ones, but the knowledge that every boat and train was bringing hundreds of wounded soldiers into the hospitals from the disastrous Yorktown campaign spurred them to greater exertion, until at last they declared themselves ready to open the sale.

Handkerchiefs, aprons, homemade candies, dolls, with all the paraphernalia belonging to them, pin cushions, pen wipers, and books, presented a goodly appearance as they were spread enticingly upon the steps of the mansion in lower Fifth Avenue. A large card, which Mr. Vance had had printed for them with the inscription, “For the relief of our wounded and sick soldiers. Please buy,” reared its head imposingly over the articles, and five little maids, neatly dressed, stood in expectant attitude eagerly watching each passer-by in the hope of a customer.

The placard caught the eyes of an elderly man, and the little girls could scarcely conceal their delight as he paused before them.

“Well, my little ladies, what have we here?” he asked kindly. “For the soldiers, eh? Who put you up to this?”

“No one, sir,” answered Jeanne as the other girls shrank back abashed. “We are doing it ourselves to help buy things for the boys.”

“But who made the articles?” queried the old gentleman. “I am a poor judge of such things, but these handkerchiefs seem to be very neatly done. They are not of your making, I presume.”

“Indeed they are,” answered the girl earnestly. “We have done all the sewing, and made the candies. The toys were our own, given to us by our parents, but we would rather have the money to give to the soldiers, so they are for sale too. We girls have made everything but the toys and the books.”

“But why,” persisted he good-naturedly. “The government provides for its soldiers, and there are women and men to do what the government doesn’t do. Why should you interest yourselves in such things? The war doesn’t concern you!”

“Whatever concerns our country concerns us,” answered Jeanne with dignity. “We are only girls, sir, and cannot do much, but what we can do to help those who are fighting for us we will do.”

“Nobly said, my little maid. I was anxious to see if this was a mere whim of the moment, or if you really were actuated by patriotic motives. You have taught me that girls can feel for their country as well as grown people. How much are those handkerchiefs?”

“A dollar a dozen, sir.”

“H’m’m!” mused the old gentleman drawing forth a well filled pocketbook. “Too cheap by far. Give me a couple of dozen.”

Jeanne obeyed with alacrity and carefully wrapped the handkerchiefs in tissue paper. “I can’t change this bill, sir,” she said as the old gentleman gave her a twenty dollar note.

“I don’t want you to, my little girl,” returned he kindly. “Take it for the cause.”

“Oh,” cried Jeanne her eyes filling with glad tears. “How good you are! How good you are!”

“Nonsense! It’s a pity if I cannot give a little money when you girls have given so much time and work. Good-day, my little patriots. Success to you in your undertaking. You may see me again.”

“Good-day, sir,” cried the girls together. “And thank you ever so much.”

“Oh, girls,” gasped Jeanne delightedly. “Isn’t it fine? Twenty dollars! I didn’t think we’d make more than that altogether.”

“Here come more customers, Jeanne,” cried Nellie excitedly. “Oh, but I believe that we are going to have luck!”

It was but the beginning. There was little leisure for the girls after that. Their evident zeal and earnestness impressed the passers-by whose hearts were already aglow with sympathy for the soldiers, and bills and shinplasters poured in upon the little merchants until at dusk not an article remained upon the steps. Then, tired but happy, they assembled in Mrs. Vance’s parlor to count the proceeds.

“Two hundred dollars!” exclaimed Mr. Vance as the girls announced the result in excited tones. “Why, girls, this is wonderful! The government would better turn over its finances into your hands.”

“You blessed dears,” cried Mrs. Vance, “it will do so much good! You don’t know how much that will buy, but you shall go with the committee and see for yourselves.”

“We have done well,” said Jeanne in congratulatory tones.

“I don’t believe that grown people could do any better,” and Nellie Drew gave her head a proud toss.

“There’s a little lame boy asking to see Miss Jeanne, ma’am,” announced a servant entering at this moment. “Shall I show him up?”

“Yes, Susan. Who is it, Jeanne?”

“It must be Eddie Farrell. He lives down on Fourth Avenue. His mother washes for Nellie’s mother, and they are awfully poor. He came by while we were fixing our things and we told him all about what we were doing and why we were doing it. How do you do, Eddie?” as the door opened to admit the visitor.

A little fellow not over ten years old, with great blue eyes that were just now alight with eagerness, paused abruptly as he caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. Vance. He made a pathetic looking figure as he stood in the doorway. He was deplorably lame and leaned on a pair of rude crutches for support, balancing in some way known only to himself, a long bundle under his arm.

“Have a chair, my boy,” said Mr. Vance, kindly noticing his embarrassment. “Did you wish to see Jeanne?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy sat down and then opened his bundle disclosing a pair of well made crutches. “The girls told me what they wuz doing fer the sogers and I’ve been thinking ever since what I could do. I didn’t have no money ner nuffin’ ter give ’cepting these crutches. I thought mebbe they’d do some pore feller some good what ’ud have his leg cut off.”

“But where did you get them?” queried Mr. Vance.

“They wuz mine, sir. Bill, a sailor man I knows, he spliced on some pieces to make ’em longer, and there they are, sir.”

“My lad,” and Mr. Vance laid his hand softly on the boy’s head, “it is a great deal for you to give. You need them yourself.”

“I’ll get along all right,” said the boy eagerly. “ ’Deed I will, Mr. Vance. See, Bill he rigged me up a pair that’ll do me all right, an’ I’d like ter help some pore feller.”

Mr. Vance gazed pityingly at the rude substitutes which the boy held up, and then looked at the crutches so deftly lengthened. His voice was husky as he spoke:

“It is a great gift. More than you should give.”

“It ain’t nuthin’,” answered the lad. “I feel fer the feller that is born with two good legs an’ then loses one of them.”

Mr. Vance nodded understandingly. Mrs. Vance’s eyes were full to overflowing as she stroked the boy’s hair gently.

“We’ll write a little note and tie on the crutches,” she said. “Then whoever gets them will know who gave them.”

“That will be fine,” cried the lad gleefully. “I’m so glad you’ll take them. I wuz afraid mebbe it wouldn’t be enough ter give.”

“It is more than we have done,” said Jeanne as soon as she was able to speak.

“Then good-bye,” and Eddie arose. “I’ll run back and tell mother.” He nodded to them and left the room, his face aglow with satisfaction.

“We haven’t done anything,” said Jeanne emphatically. “We didn’t give a thing we could not do without. Oh, I feel so mean!”

She looked at the girls tearfully, then drew a slender chain from her throat, and detached the gold piece which was suspended from it. “There!” she said, putting it with the bills on the table. “Uncle Joe gave me that before he went to the army. After he was killed at Shiloh I thought I would never part with it, but I am going to let it go for the soldiers too.”

“It is good for us,” said Nellie wiping her eyes. “We were awfully puffed up over this fair. I was beginning to think that we had done something great.”

Mr. Vance laughed.

“You need not feel so bad, girls,” he said. “If it had not been for you that poor little fellow wouldn’t have thought of giving his crutches.”

“I wish he had some though,” remarked Jeanne wistfully.

“Make your mind easy on that score, my dear, I’m going to look after that boy.”

“And meantime you girls can go with me to the Association to carry the money and the crutches, and we’ll tell the ladies all about it,” said Mrs. Vance.