Little Mrs. Mason by Sel

Seventh-Day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 31, 1884

FromThe Signs of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 5

Little Mrs. Mason.

By Sel

“I'm a miserable woman, and very lonely,” said little Mrs. Mason, as she sat knitting in the back door of her cottage one bright afternoon.

“What's the matter now?” asked her neighbor, Mrs. Buck, who had entered the front door unperceived.

“Well, I declare! Is that you, Mrs. Buck? Do take a chair and sit down, and I'm glad you've got your knitting, and I'll just get mine, and we'll have a good, sociable time; won't we?” and Mrs. Mason pulled her knitting off the table near the door.

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Buck, “I want to know all about your troubles—that is if you have any. What do you mean by calling yourself a miserable, lonely woman?”

“Indeed,” said Mrs. Mason, “you don't know how everything appears to go wrong with me sometimes, and it's very discouraging.”

“Oh, you mustn't get such low spells. I can't see why you are not as happy as the rest of us. Are you behind with your sewing?” asked Mrs. Buck.

“Yes, a good deal pushed. Let me see—there's a shirt to make for Jimmy—yes, two of them, for winter—and my two gowns, and two pairs of drawers for Jimmy, and four pairs of stockings to knit, and two petticoats to quilt, beside the mending.”

“That is considerable, to be sure; but if you don't begin you'll never finish it, you know, and if you'll fix on an afternoon and evening, and let us know, I think the neighbors would all come and give you a lift, especially if you made a few ginger cakes or something nice to hand around.”

“I don't know how Sally would like it,” answered Mrs. Mason, “she's rather strange in her ways, and that is another worriment.”

“How is your daughter strange in her ways?” asked Mrs. Buck; “she seems a little reserved, and I suppose that is natural to her. As far as I have seen, I think Sally is a very good, dignified young lady, and always knows how to behave herself.”

“That's just it,” said Mrs. Mason; “it's the dignified part that I don't like. She's got a right good book-learnin', and is counted something of a teacher in the village school, but she's so offish and cold here at home that I don't know when she's pleased and when she ain't, and when she's sick, and when she's well. Maybe she's ashamed of my ignorance, but I had no chance like she had, and I really haven't felt much acquainted with Sally since she growed up.”

“Was she always so?” inquired Mrs. Buck.

“Yes; always, since she's been of any size; and I study on it a good deal, and wonder why she don't like me to pet her sometimes, like I used to when she was little, you know.”

“You must not think hard of that,” said Mrs. Buck; “it is natural at her age to wish to be considered a woman, and she is one, and, of course, don't wish to be treated as a child; some like to be caressed a good deal, while others feel ashamed of it.”

“You mean,” said Mrs. Mason, “that some have feeling, and some haven't. I think if they have it they can't help showing it, and as Sally don't show any, I'm feared she has none. I s'pose its all right, though,” she continued, nodding her head dolefully, “but its hard for the poor mother that has loved her so.”

“Sally loves you, I'm sure,” answered Mrs. Buck. “Don't you know the spell of colic you had last harvest? Well, she was devoted to you, and did all she could to relieve you. I was surprised at her thoughtfulness in heating irons for your feet, and getting the mustard plaster for your stomach. You have a good daughter, Mrs. Mason, and may well be proud of her. Have you any more troubles? How about Jimmy? Seems to me he makes you a good husband. Isn't cross or anything, is he?”

“Bless your heart, no!” said the little woman; “not cross; if he ever gave me a cross word I don't remember it; but I can't help seeing that I have never come up to his expectations of me. I've tried my best, I think, to make him happy; but if I was dead and gone I wouldn't be much missed, I reckon.”

“You really do not know what a fine man your husband is,” answered Mrs. Buck. “Perhaps, now, he and Sally are both naturally reserved; Jimmy is a true-hearted fellow, or he would not have been a volunteer in the Union army. He loves his wife, too, and his home, and you may just make up your mind that this pretty cottage would be nothing to him without you to share it.”

Mrs. Mason sat musing awhile over her knitting, and then, with a sigh of relief, she exclaimed: “I see it all, Mrs. Buck, and this is just how it is: Sally is like her father, and that is where she gets her distressive dignity; and Jimmy's like nobody else that I ever saw—he never says nothing to nobody. You see, he brings in the vittles, and I cooks them the best I knows; but he never says whether he likes 'em or not. Sometimes I say, ‘Jimmy, I'm afeared you're tired of b'iled dinners, and if you'll get a little j'int of beef we'll have a nice roast with mashed potatoes and gravy.’”

“Well,” said Mrs. Buck, “he answers you, don't he?”

“Yes, he answers me in as few words as possible—throws a bit of money in my lap and says, ‘Do as you please, Nancy; it don't make no difference to me;’ and then I never knows what to do, only that I better save what I can for his sake and Sally's. I tell you what, Mrs. Buck, a person's heart often hungers for the kind word to cheer her up as nothing else can.”

“Our husbands are merely thoughtless and careless sometimes,” said Mrs. Buck; “and you must not take it as unkindness.”

“I know, I know, that's true; I know their minds are on business; all the time after money, early and late, and I fear they too often forget other things.”

“I really must go home now and see about dinner, and good-bye for the present, and don't fret any more,” said Mrs. Buck; “we'll see what we can do with your sewing.”

Mrs. Buck soon ran round among the neighbors and proposed a surprise party at Mrs. Mason's each to take something ready cooked for supper, and spend the next afternoon there to help her sew. She went awhile in the morning to help cut out the garments, saying: “You know, Mrs. Mason, it isn't such a job to make up when everything is ready, and perhaps a neighbor or two may happen to step in and help you a little.”

Soon after dinner the neighbors quietly dropped in, with their thimbles and baskets of eatables, and it was a regular surprise party to Mrs. Mason.

That little woman didn't know what to make of it at first, until a whisper from Mrs. Buck set it all right. The help was timely and gratefully accepted, and before they went home Mrs. Mason declared her sewing pretty well done up. Sally helped, too, and was almost as merry as the rest, which greatly added to her mother's pleasure.

In a few days Mrs. Buck got Jimmy to come over and look at her little pigs, and took the opportunity to tell him what a nice little wife he had, and how she stayed at home so much, and tried to make him happy. Jimmy said yes, he know'd his Nancy was first-rate. “And I most wonder,” said Mrs. Buck, “you don't take her out for a walk sometimes, and once in a while a nice ride, if you can spare the money.”

Jimmy said times were hard and money hard to save, and he didn't know as Nancy keered about goin' out much, anyhow.

Mrs. Buck said: “Well, Jimmy, you know you're off to your work mostly, and Sally in school, and I know Nancy gets pretty low-spirited sometimes, she is so lonely; and you go in at meal-time and eat, and then off again without saying anything cheerful to her, perhaps, and I just thought I'd give you a hint of it, all in kindness, you know. Nancy don't look as hearty as she used to; haven't you noticed it? I really think she is out of health, and needs a little nursing up.”

“The Lord love you for telling me the truth,” said Jimmy, rubbing his coat sleeve over his eyes. “Nancy is the light of my life, and I've just been a brute to shut her up there all this time, and just feeding her as you would your pigs; I've r'aly fondled my dog more than my wife; but you'll see, you'll see, Mrs. Buck, and you shall have the biggest apple on my tree. Good-bye, ma'am, and come in often to see us.”

Mrs. Buck was no mischief-maker, but was careful to say nothing to wound any one, and where a word spoken in season would benefit anybody she could not well withhold it. So in a little time she managed one evening to take a stroll toward the school-house, for the purpose of meeting Sally on her way home to supper. Sally had a bunch of wild flowers in her hand, which she was securing with a bit of ribbon.

“What pretty flowers!” said Mrs. Buck, smelling them; “for your mother, I suppose?”

“Do you think she would care for them, Mrs. Buck? I did not think of her when I gathered them; I meant just to put them in my room.”

“Care for them? Why, Sally, just think how your mother would be pleased with the attention. I should think you would often gather them for her. Remember how lonely she is there by herself all day, and how dear you are to her.”

“Well, I'll take them to her,” said Sally, “as you think she would like it. I expect she is lonely very often, and father is off so much, and I go home very tired sometimes.”

“Yes, dear, give them to her with a kiss, and see her kind eyes light up with pleasure. I know many of us have hard struggles to get along, but these precious proofs of affection go very far to sustain us on our weary road through life; and I may as well ask, dear, if you have noticed that your mother rather gives up a little sometimes, and gets heavy hearted; perhaps her health is failing.”

“Why, Mrs. Buck, I am so busy I never

thought of such a thing; I often think of her because she is mother, you know, and I shall be happy to do all I can for her. I didn't know I could increase her happiness by such little things.”

“Try it,” said Mrs. Buck, as they walked home together. “I know you love your mother dearly, and it would not be amiss for you to show it a little more.”

They separated at Mrs. Mason's gate. In a few days Mrs. Buck called to see how Nancy was getting along, she found quite a change in the little woman.

“I r'al'y don't know what to think of Jimmy, Mrs. Buck; don't you believe, he won't let me work as much as I used to—actually kissed me this morin', and says he's goin' to take me and Sally a-ridin' next Sunday, if he can get a horse; you know he can't go during the week. And there's Sally, too, most upset me yesterday with a pretty new dress, and hugged me, and said she'd make it of evenin's; and she brings me the prettiest violets and daisies she can find on her way from school, and she makes good drinks to strengthen me, she says; and Jimmy tells me now what he likes, and it is always just what I like—I mean vittles, you know, Mrs. Buck; and when he comes home with his earnings, he gives it all to me, and says: ‘Here, little mother, you keep the money in your pocket, and do as you please with it.’”

“I'm glad to see you so bright and well,” said Mrs. Buck; “and hope to see no more of your low spirits and long faces. I told you they both loved you very much, and now you believe it, don't you?”

“Yes indeed,” and the happy woman smiled through her happy tears. “And I'm getting the nicest supper for them both, and when Sally and I do up the dishes, we're going to take a walk and look for flowers, and hear the birds sing; and Jimmy will go, too.”

“And now I say to all the world,” as Mrs. Buck said on her way home, “love one another; not only do it, but show it by kind actions, and verily you will have your reward.”

Little Mrs. Mason, farewell! You perhaps will never know that you are indebted to Mrs. Buck for your present joy. She is still your neighbor, and always delights to make those around her comfortable and happy.—Sel.