Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 Read Online Free Page B

                      
The smaller trials of life beset Jessie at this particular moment, and her
bright wits were trying to solve the problem how to spend her
treasured five dollars on slippers for herself and paints for Laura.
Both were much needed, and she had gone in shabby shoes to save up money for
the little surprise on which she had set her heart; but now dismay fell upon
her when the holes refused to be cobbled, and the largest of bows would not
hide the worn-out toes in spite of ink and blacking lavishly applied.
                            
"These are the last of my dear French slippers, and I can't afford any
more. I hate cheap things! But I shall have to get them; for my boots are
shabby, and every one has to look at my feet when I lead. Oh dear, what a
horrid thing it is to be poor!" and Jessie surveyed the shabby little
shoes affectionately, as her eyes filled with tears; for the road looked very
rough and steep now, when she remembered how she used to dance through life as
happy as a butterfly in a garden full of sunshine and flowers.
                             "Now, Jess, no nonsense, no red eyes to tell tales! Go and do your errands, and come in as gay as a lark, or Laura will be
worried." And springing up, the girl began to sing instead of sob, as she
stirred about her dismal little room, cleaning her old gloves, mending her one
white dress, and wishing with a sigh of intense longing that she could afford
some flowers to wear, every ornament having been sold long ago. Then, with a
kiss and a smile to her patient sister, she hurried away to get the necessary
slippers and the much-desired paints, which Laura would not ask for, though her
work waited for want of them.
                            
Having been reared in luxury, poor little Jessie's tastes were all of the
daintiest sort; and her hardest trial, after Laura's feeble health, was the
daily sacrifice of the many comforts and elegances to which she had been
accustomed. Faded gowns, cleaned gloves, and mended boots cost her many a pang,
and the constant temptation of seeing pretty, useful, and unattainable things
was a very hard one. Laura rarely went out, and so was spared this cross; then
she was three years older, had always been delicate, and lived much in a happy
world of her own. So Jessie bore her trials silently, but sometimes felt very
covetous and resentful to see so much pleasure, money, and beauty in the world,
and yet have so little of it fall to her lot.
                            
"I feel as if I could pick a pocket to-day and not mind a bit, if it were
a rich person's. It's a shame, when papa was always so generous, that no one
remembers us. If ever I'm rich again, I'll just hunt up all the poor girls I
can find, and give them nice shoes, if nothing else," she thought, as she
went along the crowded streets, pausing involuntarily at the shop windows to
look with longing eyes at the treasures within.
                            
Resisting the allurements of French slippers with bows and buckles, she wisely
bought a plain, serviceable pair, and trudged away, finding balm for her wounds
in the fact that they were very cheap. More balm came when she met a young
friend, who joined her as she stood wistfully eying the piles of grapes in a
window and longing to buy some for Laura.
                            
This warm-hearted schoolmate read the wish before Jessie saw her, and gratified
it so adroitly that the girl could accept the pretty basketful sent to her
sister without feeling like a spendthrift or a beggar. It comforted her very
much, and the world began to look brighter after that little touch of kindness,
as it always does when genuine sympathy makes sunshine in shady places.
                            
At the art store she was told that more of Laura's autumn-flowers were