Читать книгу Mary: A Nursery Story for Very Little Children - Molesworth Mrs. - Страница 3

There was a room next to Mary’s mother’s room which was not often used. Mary was rather surprised when her father carried her straight to this room instead of to her mother’s. And when he lifted her down from his shoulder she was still more surprised to see that there was a nice little fire burning in the grate, and that the room looked quite cheerful and almost like another nursery, with a rocking-chair in front of the fire, and the blinds drawn up to let the pretty summer morning brightness in.

There was something in the corner of the room which Mary would have stared at a great deal if she had seen it. But just now she did not look that way, for she was surprised for the third time by seeing that a door stood open in the corner near the window, where she had never known before that there was a door.

“Where does that go to, papa?” she said, and she was running forward to look when her father stopped her.

“It goes into mamma’s room, my pet,” he said, “but I don’t want you to go in there yet. Perhaps mamma’s asleep.”

“It’s all dark,” said Mary; she had been peeping in. She felt rather strange, and a very tiny, weeny bit frightened. Everything seemed “funny” this birthday morning. She almost felt as if she was dreaming.

“Why is mamma’s room all dark?” she said again. “Is her asleep?”

“I’m not sure, dear. Wait here a minute and I’ll see,” and her father went into the next room, closing the door a little after him.

Mary and her brothers stood looking at each other. What was going to happen?

“It’s to be a surprise, I s’pose,” said Artie.

“It’s the guesses, I say,” said Leigh.

“It’s a birfday present for me. Papa said so,” said Mary.

“We’re speaking like the three bears,” said Artie laughing. “Let’s go on doing it. It’s rather fun. You say something, Leigh – say ‘somebody’s been in my bed’ – that’ll do quite well. Say it very growlily.”

“Somebody’s been in my bed,” said Leigh, as growlily as he could. Leigh was a very good-natured boy, you see.

“Now, it’s my turn,” said Artie, and he tried to make his voice into a kind of gruff squeak that he thought would do for the mamma bear’s talking. “Somebody’s been in my bed,” he said. “Come along, Mary, it’s you now.”

Mary was laughing by this time.

“Somebody,” she began in a queer little peepy tone, “somebody’s – ” but suddenly a voice from the other side of the door made them all jump.

“My dear three bears,” it said – it was papa, of course, “be so good as to shut your eyes tight till I tell you to open them, and then Mary can finish.” They did shut their eyes – they heard papa come into the room and cross over to the corner which they had not looked at. Then there was a little rustling – then he called out:

“All right. Open your eyes. Now, Mary, Tiny Bear, fire away. Somebody’s lying – ”

“In my bed,” said Mary, as she opened her eyes, thinking to herself how very funny papa was.

But when her eyes were quite open she did stare. For there he was beckoning to her from the corner where he was standing beside a dear little bed, all white lace or muslin – Mary called all sorts of stuff like that “lace” – and pink ribbons.

“Oh,” said Mary, running across the room, “that’s my bed. Mamma showed it me one day. It were my bed when I was a little girl.”

“Of course, it’s your bed,” said her father. “I told you to be Tiny Bear and say, ‘somebody’s lying in my bed.’ Somebody is lying in your bed. Look and see.”

Mary raised herself up on her tiptoes and peeped in. On the soft white pillow a little head was resting – a little head with dark fluffy curls all over it – Mary could not see all the curls, for there was a flannel shawl drawn round the little head, but she could see the face and the curls above the forehead. “It,” this wonderful new doll, seemed to be asleep – its eyes were shut, and its mouth was a tiny bit open, and it was breathing very softly. It had a dear little button of a nose, and it was rather pink all over. It looked very cosy and peaceful, and there seemed a sweet sort of lavendery scent all about the bed and the pretty new flannel blankets and the embroidered coverlet. That was pretty – white cashmere worked with tiny rosebuds. Mary remembered seeing her mamma working at it, and it was lined with pale pink silk. But just then, though Mary saw all these things and noticed them, yet, in another way, she did not see them. For all her real seeing and noticing went to the living thing in this dear little nest, the little, soft, sleeping, breathing face, that she gazed at as if she could never leave off. And behind her, gazing too, though Mary had the best place, of course, as it was her birthday and she was a girl – behind her stood her brothers. For a few seconds, which seemed longer to the children, there was perfect silence in the room. It was a strange wonderful silence. Mary never forgot it.

Her breath came fast, her heart seemed to beat in a different way, her little face, which was generally rather pale, grew flushed. And then at last she turned to her father who was waiting quietly. He did not want to interrupt them. “Like as if we were saying our prayers, wasn’t it?” Artie said afterwards. But when Mary turned she felt that he had been watching them all the time, and there was a very nice smile on his face.

“Papa,” she said. She seemed as if she could not get out another word, “papa – is it?”

“Yes, darling,” he replied, “it is. It’s a baby sister. Isn’t that the nicest present you ever had?”

Then there came back to Mary what she had often said about “not wanting a baby sister,” and she could scarcely believe she had ever felt like that. She was sorry to remember she had said it, only she knew she had not understood about it.

“I never thought her would be so pretty,” she said. “I never thought her would be so sweet. Oh papa, her is a lubly birfday present! When her wakes up, mayn’t I kiss her?”

“Of course you may, and hold her in your arms if you are very careful,” said her father, looking very pleased. He had been very anxious for Mary to love the baby a great deal, for sometimes “next-to-the-baby” children are rather jealous and cross at being no longer the pet and the youngest. It was a very good thing he and her mamma agreed that the baby had come as a birthday present to Mary.

The idea of holding her in her own arms was so delightful that again for a moment or two Mary felt as if she could not speak.

“And what do you two fellows think of your new sister?” said papa, turning to the boys. Leigh leant over the cradle and peered in very earnestly.

“She’s something like,” he said slowly, “something like those very tiny little ducklings,” and seeing a smile on his father’s face he went on to explain, though he grew rather red, “I don’t know what makes me think that. She looks so soft and cosy, I suppose. You know the little ducklings, papa? They’re like balls of fluffy down.”

“I don’t think she’s a bit like them,” said Artie, who in his turn had been having a good examination of the baby. “I think she’s more like a very little monkey. Do you remember that tiny monkey with a pink face, that sat on the organ in the street at grandmamma’s one day, Leigh? It was like her.”

He spoke quite gravely. He had admired the monkey very much. He did not at all mean that the new baby was not pretty, and his father’s smile grew rather comical.

“See how she scroozles up her face,” he went on; “she’s just like the monkey now. It was a very nice monkey, you know, papa.”

But Mary was not pleased. She had never seen a monkey, but there was a picture of one for the letter “M” in what she called her “animal book,” and she did not think it pretty at all.

“No,” she said, “no, Artie, her’s not a’ inch like a monkey. Her’s booful, just booful, and monkeys isn’t.”

Then suddenly she gave a little cry.

“Oh papa, dear, do look,” she called out, “her’s openin’ her eyes. I never ’amembered her could open her eyes,” and Mary nearly danced with delight.

Yes indeed, Miss Baby was opening her eyes and more than her eyes – her little round mouth opened too, and she began to cry – quite loud!

Mary had heard babies cry before now, of course, but somehow everything about this baby was too wonderful. She did not seem at all like the babies Mary saw sometimes when she was out walking; she was like herself and not anything else.

Mary’s face grew red again when she heard the baby cry.

“Oh papa, dear,” she said. “Has her hurt herself?”

“No, no, she’s all right,” said papa. But all the same he did not take baby out of her cot – papas are very fond of their babies of course, but I do not think they like them quite so much when they cry – instead of that, he turned towards the door leading into the next room.

“Nurse,” he said in a low voice, but nurse heard him.

“Yes, sir,” said a voice, in reply, and then came another surprise for Mary. The person who came quickly into the room was not “nurse” at all, but somebody quite different, though she had a nice face and was very neatly dressed. Who could she be? The world did seem very upside down this birthday morning to Mary!

“Nurse,” she repeated to her father, with a very puzzled look.

“Yes, dear,” said the stranger, “I’m come to be baby’s nurse. You see she needs so much taking care of just now while she’s still so very little – your nurse wouldn’t have time to do it all.”

“No,” said Mary, “I think it’s a good plan,” and she gave a little sigh of satisfaction. She loved the baby dearly already and she would have been quite ready to give her anything – any of her toys or pretty things, if they would have pleased her – but still she did feel it would have been rather hard for her nurse to be so busy all day that she could not take care of Artie and her as usual.

The strange nurse smiled. Mary was what people call an “old-fashioned” child, and one of her funny expressions was saying anything that she liked was “a good plan.” She stood staring with all her eyes as the nurse cleverly lifted baby out of the cot and laid her on her knee in a comfortable way, so that she left off crying. But her eyes were still open, and Mary came close to look at them.

“Is her going to stay awake now?” she said. “Perhaps she will, for a little while,” said the nurse. “But such very tiny babies like to sleep a great deal.”

Mary stood quite still. She felt as if she could stay there all day just looking at the baby – every moment she found out some new wonder about her.

“Her’s got ears,” she said at last.

“Of course she has,” said the strange nurse. “You wouldn’t like her to be deaf?”

“Baby,” said Mary, but baby took no notice.

“Her it deaf,” she went on, looking very disappointed. “Her doesn’t look at me when I call her.”

“No, my dear,” said the nurse. “She hasn’t learnt yet to understand. It will take a good while. You will have to be very patient. Little babies have a great, great deal to learn when they first come into this world. Just think what a great many things you have learnt yourself since you were a baby, Miss Mary.”

Mary looked at her. She had never thought of this.

“I wasn’t never so little, was I?” she said.

“Yes, quite as little. And you couldn’t speak, or stand, or walk, or do anything except what this little baby does.”

This was very strange to think of. Mary thought about it for a moment or two without speaking. Then she was just going to ask some more questions, when she heard her father’s voice.

“Mary,” he said, “mamma is awake and you may come in and get a birthday kiss. Leigh and Artie are waiting for you to have the first kiss as you’re the queen of the day.”

“I’d like there to be two queens,” said Mary, as she trotted across to her father. “’Cos of baby coming on my birfday. When will her have a birfday of hers own?” she went on, stopping short on her way when this thought came into her head.

Her father laughed as he picked her up.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a whole year for that,” he said. “Next year, if all’s well, your birthday and baby’s will come together.”

“Oh, that will be nice,” said Mary, but then for a minute or two she forgot all about baby, as her father lifted her on to her mother’s bed to get the birthday kiss waiting for her.

“My pet,” said her mother, “are you pleased with your presents, and are you having a happy day?” Mary put up her little hand and stroked her mother’s forehead, on which some little curls of pretty brown were falling.

“Mamma dear,” she said, “your hair isn’t very tidy. Shall I call Larkin to brush it smoove?” and she began to scramble off the bed to go to fetch the maid.

“What a little fidget you are,” said her mother. “Never mind about my hair. I want you to tell me what you think of your little sister.”

“I think her sweet,” said Mary. “And her curls is somefin like yours, mamma. But Leigh says hers like little ducks, and Artie says hers like a pink monkey.”

Mamma began to laugh at this, quite loud. But just then the nurse put her head in at the door.

“Baby’s opening her eyes so wide, Miss Mary,” she said. “Do come and look at her, and you, Master Leigh and Master Artie too. You shall come and see your mamma again in the afternoon.”

So they all three went back into the other room to have another look at baby.

“I say, children,” called their father after them. “We’ve got to fix what baby’s to be called. It’ll take a lot of thinking about, so you must set your wits to work, and tell me to-morrow what name you like best.”