Fairy Tales for Young Readers Read Online Free Page A

did all the heavy work that women ought never to be allowed to do. Besides all that, he kept the garden in perfect order, so that not a weed showed its head there, and lupins, leopard’s bane, larkspur, gardener’s garters, goat’s rue, columbines, poppies and lilies and sweet williams all grew as if they had been born there. But there were no roses, and, of course, there was no money to spare for rose-bushes. I suppose it was called Rose Cottage so as to have at least one “rose” there—on the gate-post, where the name was painted.
    Beauty, for her part, kept the house clean and pretty, washed, starched, ironed, baked, brewed, and sewed, and she and her father were as happy as the days were long, except for the grumblings of the sisters, and even these the two workers got used to in time, so that they hardly noticed them—just as people who live near a railway get used to the rattling and screaming and thundering of the trains, and people who live in towns get used to the voices of poor people saying, “I am starving. Give me a penny, for the love of God!” You’ll agree with me that if you can get used to the noise of railways and the voices of your starving brothers you can get used to anything. So the disagreeableness of the sisters almost ceased to be a worry, and everything went on getting pleasanter and pleasanter for a year—and it came to be jasmine-time again.

    And then one morning when Beauty was shaking the door-mats at the front gate, with a blue handkerchief over her head to keep the dust from her hair, the postman came along the road; and oh, wonderful! he had a letter in his hand—the first they had had since they came to live at Rose Cottage.
    â€œIt’s for your father,” said the postman. “Thank God for a beautiful day.”
    â€œYes,” said Beauty, and took the letter to her father, who was digging a dish of new potatoes for dinner.
    He opened it.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Beauty, for he looked glad.
    He did not answer. And “ Oh, what is it?” Beauty asked, for now he looked sorry.
    â€œI almost wish it hadn’t happened,” he said slowly, scraping the earth off the fork with the edge of his boot. “For we’ve been very happy together here, my Beauty. But I suppose I ought to go—if it’s only for the sake of your poor sisters.” He handed her the letter, which told how two of the merchant’s ships, which were supposed to be lost, had come safely to port, laden with rich treasure, so that he was now a wealthy man again; and please would he hurry up and take his goods away, for they were littering up the quays, and the Municipal Council could not allow the roadway to be obstructed by the strewn-about bales of any merchant.
    Well, of course he set out at once. The two sisters got up, half dressed and with their hair in curl-papers, to say goodbye to him. Beauty gave him a good breakfast; and if she did drop a tear or two into his coffee cup as she filled it, nobody was the worse or the wiser.
    â€œGoodbye, my dears,” he said, as he stood by the gate waiting for the coach. “I’ll bring you each a present. What would you like?”
    â€œA purse full of money—quite full,” said the eldest.
    â€œA casket of jewels,” said the second.
    â€œAnd what shall I bring for my Beauty?” the old man asked fondly, for she had said nothing.

    â€œOh, bring me a rose,” said Beauty, who didn’t want him to bother about presents for her, when she knew how busy he would be clearing up his bales and things.
    But when he came to the city he found that there were no ships, and no bales, and no anything at all for him but disappointment. The letter was just a hoax, planned by some of the young men whom the elder sisters had treated so rudely long ago. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to go home again, not too unhappy, after all, because he had still his best