LOLLA;

OR,

The Sin of Greediness.

[BY]

[LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY]

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PHILADELPHIA:

AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION

NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET. —————————— NEW YORK: 599 BROADWAY.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by the AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

CONTENTS.

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CHAP.

I.—LOLLA AT HOME

II.—LOLLA IN DORCHESTER

III.—THE MOUSE

IV.—"BREAD IN SECRET"

V.—THE ICE-CREAM

VI.—THE CONSEQUENCE

LOLLA;

OR,

THE SIN OF GREEDINESS.

——————

CHAPTER I.

LOLLA AT HOME.

"SEEMS to me Lolla does not eat any breakfast," said Aunt Delight, looking at a little girl who sat opposite to her at the table, with a well-filled plate before her, upon which, however, she did not seem to be making any impression.

"She never does," said Lolla's mother. "She never seems to have any appetite in the morning. She complains that nothing tastes good to her; and she almost always gets up tired and feverish."

"That is a pity," said Aunt Delight. "Little folks ought to be hungry in the morning, and to be as fresh and lively as birds and lambs are. We must see if we cannot cure that when we get her down in Dorchester."

"I dare say the sea-air will help her," said Lolla's mother. "I remember how hungry it used to make me when I was a little girl. I am very uneasy about Lolla, sometimes. It seems so unnatural for a child to be so languid in the morning. But you are quite sure, Aunt Delight, that you do not want to take nurse with you?"

"I am quite sure, my dear Laura. In the first place, I have no room for her; and in the second place, I have nothing for her to do."

"Then who will take care of me, Aunt Delight?" asked Lolla, very much interested in the discussion.

"I expect you will take care of yourself and of me too," replied Aunt Delight, smiling.

Lolla looked as if she were doubtful whether to be pleased or alarmed at this project. But she was very much delighted at the idea of the long journey, and the summer in Dorchester with Aunt Delight, and not displeased at being spoken to as if she were something more than a baby: so she made no further objections.

Lolla's father and mother lived in a very fine place near one of the great Western cities; but they were expecting to break up and remove to California during the summer, and it had been settled that Lolla was to go to Dorchester and spend a year at least with her mother's aunt, Miss Delight Wentworth, who had a pretty place of her own and was famous for her skill in nursing the sick and managing and teaching children. Lolla was considered rather a delicate child, and her mother had been out of health ever since her daughter was born; for which reasons it was thought best for both that they should be separated for a time.

About ten o'clock, as Aunt Delight was passing through the kitchen, she saw nurse giving Lolla a large piece of loaf-cake.

"Eating so soon after breakfast?" said Aunt Delight.

"Why, you know, aunt, I did not eat any breakfast," replied Lolla, in rather a tone of apology.

"She has got into a bad way about eating, that's a fact," said nurse. "She doesn't eat at meals, and she is always wanting something between-times; but her mother thinks there is no help for it. Now you will see that she won't want any thing at dinner; and by-and-by she will be asking for another piece of cake."

"Do you think it is good for her to eat in that way?"

"Well, no, I don't. She is spoiling her teeth, for one thing. But, being the only child for so long,—and delicate besides,—Mrs. Lane has got in the way of indulging her. She is a good child, too, in most things; but it won't do her any harm to have a change. She cares Were for eating than for any thing else."

As nurse had predicted, Lolla had no appetite for her dinner,—at least for the solid parts of it; but she ate two plates of rich pudding, and then she had almonds and raisins, besides filling her pocket with the nuts, which she was munching all the afternoon. A large piece of fresh maple-sugar helped the almonds to fill up the interval between dinner and tea, when Lolla supped upon pound-cake, preserved melon and cottage-cheese.

In the evening some friends came in, and about ten o'clock Lolla had her share of the supper prepared for them.

As Aunt Delight noted all these things, she no longer wondered that Lolla did not sleep well and had no appetite for her breakfast. She was not one of those people who think that children should never have any thing that they like; but she made up her mind that when Lolla came under her own care she should make some change in her habits.

"Well, Lolla, have you said good-by to all your pets?" asked Aunt Delight, as she met Lolla at breakfast on the day set for their journey.

Lolla did not seem as languid as usual, this morning. Her cheeks had a little colour, her eyes were bright, and she ate her bread-and-butter as if she liked it.

"Oh, yes, aunt. I have been out to the barn and the pasture to see the calves and the colts, and down by the river to see the little ducks, and over to Mrs. Merrie's to bid good-by to Fanny and Jenny. I have been up and running about ever since five o'clock; and I am so hungry,—you can't think! I believe it makes people hungry to get up early in the morning."

"It is said to have that effect," replied Aunt Delight, smiling. "But finish your breakfast, my dear. We have no time to lose."

The carriage came to the door, the last good-byes were said, and Aunt Delight and her little niece were soon speeding away over the Michigan Central Railroad.

Lolla felt very sadly at leaving home, and cried bitterly at parting from father, mother and nurse. But children are usually easily diverted from their grief; and Lolla's tears were soon dried. She had never been upon the railroad before; and she enjoyed the rapid motion, the constant change of scene, and the novelty of staying in a great hotel over-night.

She thought it rather hard that her aunt should refuse to buy oranges, candy and maple-sugar of all the boys who came upon the train, and a very unlucky circumstance that the package of rich cake and confectionery which her mother had put up for her should somehow have been lost directly, so that they had nothing left for their luncheon except biscuits, cold chicken and sponge-cake. But there was so much to see, and the change of air made her so hungry, that she did not feel disposed to complain: besides that, she felt too much awe of her aunt to go into one of her tantrums, as nurse used to call them.

The travellers arrived at home late in the evening; and when Lolla entered her aunt's cottage in Dorchester, she was too sleepy to notice any thing, except that her room was of an odd shape, and her little low bed very comfortable.

"Come, Lolla," said Aunt Delight, entering the room, next morning, just as Lolla was rubbing her eyes; "breakfast is almost ready. I have let you sleep late this morning, because you were tired. Here is your bath, all ready to brighten you up. Now let us see how soon you will be dressed."

"Nurse used to dress me at home," said Lolla, rather doubtfully.

"Yes, but nurse is not here; and, besides, you are old enough to wait upon yourself. You are eight years old, are you not?"

"Yes, aunt,—on my last birthday."

"Well, when I was as old as you, I dressed myself and my little brother every morning, besides putting my own room in order. You do not want to be a baby all your days, do you? Come; don't dawdle, but lace your boots quickly, and then put on the rest of your things, and I will fasten them for you."

"Is this my room, aunt?" asked Lolla.

"Yes, Lolla. How do you like it?"

"I think it is beautiful," replied Lolla, looking around upon the neat, old-fashioned furniture, the pretty red-and-white matting, and the little book-case full of books. "I never had a room of my own before. What a funny window! It is like a little room by itself. Oh, aunt, what is that out there?" exclaimed Lolla, catching a glimpse through the curtains of something bright and blue, and speckled with large and small white dots. "That 'blue,' I mean."

"That is the sea,—or the bay, rather," replied Aunt Delight, smiling at Lolla's excitement. "Don't you remember I told you, you would be able to see the ships and the bay from your window? See, there is a great steamer coming in. It must be the ocean steamer from Liverpool."

There seemed some danger that Lolla would not get dressed at all, so much interested was she in watching the steamer, and the fishing-boats, and a large ship just going out of the bay; but Aunt Delight found no fault with her. She knew how interesting all these things must be to the little girl who had never seen ships or salt water before. At last, however, Lolla was dressed; and she was about to run down-stairs at once,—when her aunt stopped her.

"It seems to me that you have forgotten something, Lolla," said she, gravely.

"Have I?" asked Lolla, surveying her dress. "I don't see any thing, except my apron; and you know you said you would give me a clean one out of the trunk."

"I was not thinking of your dress, but of something else."

Lolla still looked puzzled.

"Who has taken care of you all night while you have been asleep, and kept you from harm all through this long journey? And who is it you should ask to take care of you through the day?"

"Oh, you mean saying my prayers," said Lolla. "But, aunt, I never said my prayers in the morning,—only at night."

"Then you don't want God to take care of you in the daytime?" said Aunt Delight. "You think, perhaps, that you can do that for yourself?"

"Somehow, there never seems to be any time in the morning," said Lolla. "One has to hurry so to get ready for breakfast."

"Then one must get up earlier in the morning," said Aunt Delight. "But you will have plenty of time. I told Sarah to ring the bell five minutes before breakfast was ready. I will wait for you in my room."

Lolla, did not feel very much like saying her prayers; but she did not like to dispute with her aunt: so she hastily repeated the Lord's Prayer, without thinking much of its meaning, and then joined her aunt in her own room, and they went down-stairs together.

The breakfast-room would have been a large one if it had not been cut up into so many angles and corners. There was a large chimney, with a high, old-fashioned wooden mantel-piece, and a deep recess containing a book-case on each side of it. There was another deep recess, where stood a large, carved mahogany side-board. There was a corner cupboard, with glass doors, which seemed to be filled with china. There were two windows with deep window-seats, and a glass door opening into the garden. The walls were covered with old-fashioned paper ornamented with lilies and roses, with gayly-feathered birds flying about and perching on the flowers; and there were many pictures and prints, in black and gold frames.

The breakfast-table was set for them, and looked very inviting, with its snowy cloth and shining china and silver.

"Whose place is that, aunt?" asked Lolla.

"That is Mr. Locke's place; but he will not be here this morning," said Aunt Delight. "He has gone over to Boston, and will breakfast with a friend. This is your chair."

Lolla slipped into her chair. She was very hungry, and could not help taking a sly survey of the table, even while her aunt was saying grace, to see what they were likely to have for breakfast. There was a loaf of white bread, and another of brown, upon a beautifully-carved wooden plate. There was a silver egg-boiler, a pitcher of milk, and a dish of cold ham; and that was all.

Presently, however, Aunt Delight rang her bell, and Sarah brought in a plate of hot toast, and a coffee-pot.

"What is that, aunt?" said Lolla, pointing to the egg-boiler.

"That is a boiler to cook the eggs," replied her aunt, as she opened the cover and took out the rack filled with eggs. "Did you never see one before?"

"No," replied Lolla. "Mary always boils ours in a kettle; but I think this is a much nicer way. Our eggs are always too hard, or too soft, or something."

She had another question on her tongue's end; but she did not quite like to ask it. At last, however, out it came.

"Aunt Delight, don't you have any meat for breakfast? No beefsteak, or chicken, or any thing?"

"Sometimes," replied her aunt. "Don't you call cold ham meat?"

"Oh, yes," replied Lolla, feeling rather ashamed of her question. "Only I thought I would just ask, because—because—" Lolla paused in some confusion. She did not exactly know what to say.

"I dare say you can make a breakfast on ham-and-eggs and bread-and-butter," said Aunt Delight.

"Was it wrong to ask, aunt?"

"Oh, no. But, Lolla, it is not usually considered very polite to make remarks upon what is on the table. Little girls should eat what is set before them, without saying very much about it. See here: you shall have your coffee in this silver cup, which belonged to your great-grandmother,—and her grandmother before her, for aught I know. Just think how many little girls must have drunk out of it before you."

CHAPTER II.

LOLLA IN DORCHESTER.

"NOW, Lolla, can I trust you to run about by yourself for a while?" asked Aunt Delight, when breakfast was done and family prayers were over.

"I don't exactly know what you mean, aunt," said Lolla.

"Can I trust you not to pick the flowers, or tread upon the flower-beds, or meddle with what does not belong to you? If so, you may go where you like about the house and garden; but you must not go outside the gate unless I give you leave. I suppose you will be like a kitten brought into a strange house: you will like to make acquaintance with every thing about you."

"I won't meddle with any thing," said Lolla. "But why may I not go into the street, Aunt Delight?"

"For this reason, among others: that you might easily get lost, and it would not perhaps be so easy to find you again."

"May I go down to the gate and look-out?" asked Lolla.

"Yes, if you do not go outside. By-and-by we will begin some lessons; for it will not do to play all the time. But to-day I am going to be busy about the house all the morning: so you will know where to find me if you want me."

Lolla was pleased with the permission to go where she liked,—and pleased, too, with being trusted. She spent an hour or two very pleasantly in exploring the garden and greenhouses, and going about the house, where there seemed so many pictures, and books, and curious boxes, and china vases, and pots, and bowls. One pair of vases, which stood in the hall, especially excited her curiosity, they were so very large. They were nearly as tall as herself; she thought she could have got into one of them easily,—and had covers, which fastened with large metal hinges and hasps.

Then she put on her hat again and went down to the gate, where she saw a little boy mounted on a Shetland pony not much larger than her father's great Newfoundland dog, and a girl driving a little donkey in a low wagon, and some cows in a field opposite, each with a thin blanket on to keep off the flies, and each one tethered to a stake by a long rope.

"Well," thought Lolla, "they seem to take a great deal of care of their cows; but if I were a cow, I should rather be running about on the prairie than be tied up in that way."

Just then she heard a church-clock strike eleven, and she remembered that it was more than two hours since she had had any thing to eat: so she sauntered slowly to the house, and went in at the back door.

She found Aunt Delight in her neat little store-room, surrounded by shelves full of preserves and canned fruit, stone jars which reminded one of pickles and cake, bunches of sweet and medicinal herbs, and bottles and jugs of all shapes and sizes.

"Please, aunt," said Lolla, "I want something to eat."

"Do you?" said Aunt Delight. "For what?"

Lolla smiled at the oddness of the question.

"Because I am hungry, aunt."

"Are you sure it is because you are hungry, or because you are used to eating just about this time? But never mind. Go to Sarah, in the kitchen, and ask her to give you a piece of bread-and-butter."

"I don't like bread-and-butter very much," said Lolla. "Nurse used to give me a piece of cake."

"I don't like little girls to be always eating sweet things," said Aunt Delight. "It is bad for their teeth and for their health. If you are really hungry, bread-and-butter will taste good to you. If you are not hungry, you do not want any thing."

"Mother lets me have cake," persisted Lolla; "and I guess she knows what is good for me as well as anybody."

"See here, Lolla," said Aunt Delight, sitting down, and drawing the little girl to her side: "I cannot have any argument with you about these things. Your mother has trusted you to me, to be taken care of and treated as I think best. She knows all about my ways of management,—because I brought her up till she was fourteen years old; and she knows I intend to do as I think right with you. When I tell you to do a thing, I do not expect you to tell me what somebody else does or thinks, but to be governed by what I think. Now go and get your bread-and-butter, if you want it; and if not, let it alone."

"I don't want it," said Lolla, with an air of disgust. "I haven't any appetite for such things."

"Very well," said Aunt Delight, smiling. "I dare say you will find your appetite by dinner-time. Do you want to go and play, or would you rather stay and help me? I am going to take my Indian curiosities out of the cabinet and dust them."

Lolla did not exactly know what to do. She felt very much abused, and a good deal like sulking about it; but, then, she wanted to see the curiosities, and she had, besides, a feeling that sulking was not likely to answer a very good purpose: so she slowly followed Aunt Delight into the parlour, which was across the hall from the breakfast-room. She had peeped in before, but the blinds were closed and the curtains down, so that she could not see any thing.

Aunt Delight drew up the curtains and opened the shutters.

"What a pretty room!" exclaimed Lolla. "I do think, aunt, you have the most beautiful things! I don't see where you got so many splendid vases."

"They have been accumulating for a long time," said Aunt Delight. "Some of our family have been in the India trade ever since there has been any India trade in Boston; and they are always bringing home things. See, here is my India cabinet."

"A real India cabinet, just like the one in Rosamund!" exclaimed Lolla, forgetting all about the bread-and-butter question at once. "Are there any branches of coral in it?"

"We shall see," said Aunt Delight, unlocking the little drawers. "There is no telling what we may find."

No telling, indeed. What wonderful things there were in that cabinet! Shells and corals, curious gold and silver coins, butterflies and beetles looking as if made of jewels, little boxes and balls carved with figures, pictures upon rice-paper of birds and flowers and Chinese men and women. I could not begin to tell you half the things there were in that cabinet. Aunt Delight took them out and handed them to Lolla, who laid them carefully on the table set to receive them.

Every article had a story to it, and Aunt Delight was ready to answer all Lolla's questions. She gave the little girl a number of pretty things for her own, and a beautiful little Japan work-box in the shape of a cabinet, covered with gilded figures of cranes flying and perching, and having drawers lined with a sweet-scented wood, which Aunt Delight said was sandal-wood.