Beulah - Page 22/348

"Take him, Beulah," said the mother.

She stooped to comply, and was surprised that the little fellow

testified no fear of her. She raised him in her arms, and kissed his

rosy cheeks, as he looked wonderingly at her.

"Ma, is that Johnny's new nurse? What is her name?" said the

youngest girl, laying down her doll and carefully surveying the

stranger.

"Yes, Annie; and her name is Beulah," replied the mother, adjusting

her bonnet.

"Beulah--it's about as pretty as her face. Yes, just about,"

continued Annie, in an audible whisper to her sister. The latter

gave Beulah a condescending stare, curled her lips disdainfully,

and, with a polite "Mind your own business, Annie," returned to her

embroidery.

"Keep the baby by the fire; and if he frets you must feed him.

Laura, show her where to find his cup of arrowroot, and you and

Annie stay here till I come home."

"No, indeed, ma, I can't; for I must go down and practice my music

lesson," answered the eldest daughter decisively.

"Well, then, Annie, stay in my room."

"I am going to make some sugar-candy, ma. She"--pointing to Beulah--

"can take care of Johnny. I thought that was what you hired her

for."

"You will make no sugar-candy till I come home, Miss Annie; do you

hear that? Now, mind what I said to you."

Mrs. Martin rustled out of the room, leaving Annie to scowl

ominously at the new nurse, and vent her spleen by boxing her doll,

because the inanimate little lady would not keep her blue-bead eyes

open. Beulah loved children, and Johnny forcibly reminded her of

earlier days, when she had carried Lilly about in her arms. For some

time after the departure of Mrs. Martin and Laura, the little fellow

seemed perfectly satisfied, but finally grew fretful, and Beulah

surmised he might be hungry.

"Will you please give me the baby's arrowroot?"

"I don't know anything about it; ask Harrison."

"Who is Harrison?"

"Why, the cook."

Glancing around the room, she found the arrowroot; the boy was fed,

and soon fell asleep. Beulah sat in a low rocking-chair, by the

hearth, holding the infant, and watching the little figure opposite.

Annie was trying to fit a new silk waist to her doll, but it was too

broad one way and too narrow another. She twisted and jerked it

divers ways, but all in vain; and at last, disgusted by the

experiment, she tore it off and aimed it at the fire, with an

impatient cry.