[Illustration: Little Pilgrim at Aunt Lou’s.--frontispiece.

Bessie was seated on the barn-floor, with all the little kittens in her
lap.

p. 21.]




  _The Little Pilgrim Series._

  Little Pilgrim
  At Aunt Lou’s.


  PHILADELPHIA:
  AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,
  No. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET.

  New York: Nos. 8 and 10 Bible House, Astor Place.
  Chicago: 73 Randolph Street.




  _Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by the
  AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,
  In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington._




LITTLE PILGRIM AT AUNT LOU’S.




I.


It was a long time after Christmas, and the snow and ice had all
melted, and the trees were green again, and the flowers and birds had
all come back.

Summer was just beginning again; and on the very day that she was five
years old the little pilgrim started on a long journey with papa and
mamma and Aunt Lillie.

They were going into the country to Aunt Lou’s, to stay for a great
many weeks--mamma and Aunt Lillie and Bessie; and papa was going to
take them there and stay one night, and then go home again, because he
had to attend to his business.

Grandpapa was not going at all now, because he could not leave his
church and his poor people; but by and by, he said, when the days and
nights were both too hot for him, he would take a vacation like the
school-children, and go to Aunt Lou’s for a month.

Rosy and Jane had promised to take good care of the house, and they
both stood at the gate watching the family off.

At first the little pilgrim thought it very fine to go off in the
steam-cars and watch the houses and trees fly past the windows, for
this is what they seemed to do; but the cars did the flying, while the
houses and trees stayed just where they were before.

There was not a happier little girl to be found that morning than
Bessie. She had a beautiful little trunk with her that held all
Blanche’s clothes, and the key of the trunk was on a ribbon around her
neck. Blanche, you know, was her best dolly--the one her mamma gave her
on her last birthday--and she had always taken great care of her, so
that she was now almost as good as new.

When mamma began to pack the trunks her little daughter brought nearly
every plaything she had to be packed too, for she seemed to think that
everything she had must go with her to Aunt Lou’s. But mamma told her
that there was not room for all her toys, and that she must choose a
few things to take with her, and leave the rest.

Bessie was very much puzzled what to choose, and which of her dollies
to leave behind. She was afraid that if she took Blanche, Sarah Jane
would feel badly; and if she took Sarah Jane, Blanche would not like to
be left behind.

So she went to ask Aunt Lillie about it.

“Auntie,” said she, “s’pose you had two little chillens, and your mamma
would only let you have one chillen to take away, would you choose
Blanche or Sarah Jane?”

“I think,” said Aunt Lillie, who looked very smiling, “that I should
have to take the child who needed me most.”

“That’s Blanche,” said Bessie, who wanted to take her all the time,
because she was so much handsomer than Sarah Jane; “she’s the youngest,
and I have to be careful of her clothes.”

So, trying to explain it all to Sarah Jane why she was to be left at
home, she began to get Blanche ready for the visit at Aunt Lou’s.

When the little trunk came, with Blanche’s name painted on one end,
Bessie was very much delighted; and the tiny dresses and aprons and
petticoats were packed in it very neatly.

Miss Blanche had a new travelling suit that Aunt Lillie made for her.
It was gray, trimmed with blue; and there was a turban hat with a blue
feather in it. Bessie said that Sarah Jane looked very cross when she
saw this, but she told her that it was not right to be jealous of her
sister.

Papa’s eyes laughed when he asked his little girl if he should not get
a check for Blanche’s trunk and have it taken away by the expressman
with the other baggage; and Bessie thought she would like this very
much, until Aunt Lillie said that it would not do, because the little
trunk might get crushed under the heavy ones.

When they went into the cars papa was carrying Blanche’s trunk in one
hand, and holding Bessie by the other, and the little pilgrim herself
was carrying Blanche.




II.


It was night when they got to Aunt Lou’s, and Bessie was fast asleep.
She did not even wake up when she was being undressed, and she did not
know where she was until next morning.

When she woke the sun was shining right in her eyes, and she was not in
her crib, nor in her little blue room at all. There were funny noises
outside too; roosters were crowing, and she heard cows, and then she
knew in a minute that this must be Aunt Lou’s.

No one was in the room with her, for papa had to go off early in the
cars, and mamma had gone down stairs to eat breakfast with him.

Pretty soon Aunt Lillie came in and dressed her; and by that time the
little pilgrim was quite ready for her breakfast.

How the little cousins hugged and kissed her when she came down
stairs! They were so very glad to see her, and they had been allowed to
sit up the night before on purpose to welcome her, and had been very
much disappointed to find that she was fast asleep.

The oldest of these cousins was a boy--a very big boy, Bessie thought,
for he was ten years old. His name was Jimmie, and he liked to read
better than he liked to play, but he would play with them sometimes.

Nellie was a very nice cousin indeed. She was eight years old, and she
was always pleasant and smiling and ready to amuse the little ones.

One of these little ones was Charlie, who had another name, and I am
sorry to say that this was “Cry-Baby.” Charlie was four years old, and
he cried when his face was washed, and cried when he tumbled down, and
cried when he couldn’t have what he wanted.

When he was not crying he smiled and looked like a very happy little
boy; and this was the way he looked now.

Then there was Baby Alice, a dear little girl who had to be carried and
who could not speak a word yet.

Mr. and Mrs. Mason, who were Bessie’s Uncle Ralph and Aunt Lou, lived
on a large farm, where they had plenty of people to help do the work;
and these people had houses of their own not very far from the large
house in which Bessie’s cousins lived.

There were a great many fields around the house, and woods, and a
pretty little brook that seemed to be singing a song the whole time.
The place was called “Brook Farm;” and there were so many horses, and
cows, and sheep, and pigs, and chickens that Bessie wondered if any one
could count them.

“Eat your breakfast, dear,” said Aunt Lou when she saw that Bessie
left her bread-and-milk to look at the pets her cousins were already
bringing in to show her, for they had all had their breakfasts; “there
will be plenty of time for all that afterward.”

But the little pilgrim could not stop long to eat. Charlie had just
whispered, “Tree tittens--four, five, tree--tome and see!” and away she
flew.

“I expect my little girl to run wild now,” said mamma, smiling.

“It will do her a great deal of good,” replied Aunt Lou; “she is
looking too pale, and I want to see her cheeks like roses before she
leaves here.”

In a few moments there was a great screaming and boo-hoo-ing from
Charlie, who came running to the house crying as hard as he could.

“What is the matter now?” asked his mamma, who did not seem to think
there was much the matter.

Then Charlie roared harder than ever, and held up a little fat hand
to show a great scratch on it. Pussy had scratched him because he was
taking her babies up by the tail.

“He is real naughty,” said Nellie, who had followed him; “he makes the
little kittens squeal, and that is why Pussy scratches him.”

Charlie fairly bellowed now, because his scratch hurt him and because
he could not do as he liked with the kittens. He had been sick a great
deal, and had had his own way too much.

Aunt Lillie put a piece of thin plaster on the scratch, and then
Charlie said, “All well now,” and ran back to the barn with his face
full of smiles. His mamma thought he had been punished enough, for
Pussy gave him a pretty hard scratch, and he promised to be very gentle
with the kittens.

Bessie was seated on the barn-floor with all the little kittens in her
lap, and Mother Puss was purring around her and not minding it at all.
They were such pretty little things--white, with black tails, and they
all had blue eyes! They had just got their eyes open.

“Here is some milk for you, Pussy,” said Martha as she put a large dish
of it down on the floor. Martha was the girl who took care of the milk
and butter, that were kept in a little house half sunk in the ground.
This was the dairy.

Pussy did not like to leave her kittens long, even to get something
to eat, and Martha often brought her milk, so that she would not be
hungry.

“Come with me,” said Martha to the children, “and I will show you some
babies smaller than these kittens; I found them yesterday.”

The kittens were quickly put back into their straw nest in the manger,
and the children followed Martha to see what she had to show them.

She took them into the corn-crib, which was near the barn; and where
the corn was all kept with which the animals were fed. In a dark
corner, right under a sloping beam, there was an old box, and in this
box there was a funny sort of nest made of straw and rags.

“Are they birds?” asked Nellie as she tiptoed up to it.

“Birds!” repeated Jimmie, who was just behind her: “don’t you know
better than that? They are mice--white mice, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“No, they ain’t,” said Bessie, who was stretching her little neck to
get a good view of them; “they’re all pink. I see ’em!”

She did not know why she was laughed at, for they certainly were
pink--very pink indeed, and very little.

“La, child!” said Martha, laughing too, “that ain’t the color they’re
going to be. They’re pink because they haven’t got any fur yet, only
their skins. I guess, though, that they’ll be just mouse-color. But
ain’t they cunning?”

“Me want one,” said Charlie, “to play with.”

And when they told him that he could not take any of Mrs. Mouse’s
children, as she had only gone out for a little while, he, as usual,
began to cry.

“Go ahead, Cry-Baby!” said Jimmie; and Charlie did go ahead.

But something dreadful happened just then.

No one knew that Mrs. Puss had just followed them in to see what was
going on; and as soon as she caught sight of the nest with three little
mice in it, she knew what they were in a minute. She made one jump and
gobbled them up; every little mouse was gone, and Puss sat licking her
chops and feeling that she had made a very good breakfast.

“Well, I never!” said Martha, almost out of breath with surprise.

“You horrid cat!” said Nellie, just ready to cry for the fate of the
poor little mice.

Bessie quite cried, it seemed so dreadful; and as to Charlie, his roars
were heard at the house.

Aunt Lou and Bessie’s mamma and Aunt Lillie all came running out to see
what was the matter. Had Charlie’s eyes been scratched out now?

“Oh, mamma!” sobbed Bessie as she buried her head in her mother’s
dress, “that wicked cat has eaten up the little mouses!”

“Do have her killed, mamma,” said Nellie; “she is too bad to live.”

Every little face looked angry and excited, and Charlie kept on
screaming.

Then Martha told about the little nest with the three pink mice in it,
and how Puss had eaten them for her breakfast.

“I wish the cow or something big would eat her kittens,” said Jimmie;
“see how she would like that!”

“Children,” said Aunt Lou, “you are all wrong, and Puss is not wicked
at all. She was born to eat mice--that is her business; and I am sure
that papa will be very much obliged to her for clearing a nest of these
destructive little creatures out of his corn-crib.”

“But they were so cunning!” sobbed the children.

“All young animals are ‘cunning,’” replied mamma with a smile, “but we
should not be very comfortable unless some of them were killed. How
would it do to have the house full of mice?”

That did not sound very pleasant, and they began to see that Pussy was
not so bad, after all.

“Besides,” said Jimmie, remembering what he had read, “we eat cows and
sheep and pigs and chickens ourselves, so we are just as bad as Pussy.”

“Come with me, Charlie,” said Aunt Lillie, “and I will show you a
picture-book which I am sure you will like.”

Charlie stopped crying at this promise, and went with his auntie, of
whom he was very fond.

But he and Bessie had a quarrel that same day about this very auntie,
whom Bessie always claimed as her own property. She didn’t see how she
could belong to any one else; and she said to Charlie, “She isn’t your
aunt Lillie; she’s mine.”

“Tain’t!” replied Charlie, beginning to blubber; “it’s mine auntie
Lillie.”

The little pilgrim was so angry at this that she started to run and
ask Aunt Lillie if she wasn’t her very own auntie and no one else’s.
But she went too fast, and before she knew it she was down on her nose.

Auntie happened to come along just in time to pick the little pilgrim
up and comfort her. Then she told the two little cousins how wrong it
was to quarrel, and that she was auntie to both of them.

So the children kissed and made it up, and Charlie promised that he
would try not to be such a cry-baby.




III.


There were so many things to see at Aunt Lou’s that the little pilgrim
lived out of doors nearly all the time.

“You must come and see my baby-house,” said Nelly; and Bessie wondered
if it would be prettier than hers.

It was in a very funny place, for Nellie took her down by the brook;
and there was a hollow in a great tree that had a little table in
it, and two or three rag dollies sitting by the table, and cups and
saucers on it; but the cups and saucers were not like any that Bessie
had ever seen before. They were made of acorns, which Jimmie had cut
out for her, and the cups looked like little thimbles. Fresh grass was
spread down for a carpet, and Nellie told her little cousin that this
was her summer-house.

“You see,” she said, “that I can leave my dollies and all out in the
rain, and it don’t hurt them a bit. I have nicer ones for in-doors,
but I love these just as well, because I can do what I like with
them.--Hold up your head, Polly, but don’t stare so at the company;
haven’t you any manners?”

Bessie looked all around for the little girl, but she did not see any.
Nellie burst out laughing.

“There she is,” said she, pointing to the largest rag doll; “I always
talk to her as if she was alive. It’s real fun. This is her sister,
Martha Jane. She has fits.”

“My rag doll is Sarah Jane,” said the little pilgrim. “What does Martha
Jane have fits for?”

“’Cos she likes ’em,” replied Nellie; “she’d rather have fits than
anything else. But Polly likes measles best.”

This seemed very strange to Bessie, but Nellie was so much older that
she thought she must know.

When they got tired of playing with the baby-house they took off
their shoes and stockings and paddled in the brook. The water was
delightfully cool, and Bessie knew now why the cows like to stand in
the water in warm weather.

There were stepping-stones in the brook, and the two little girls
crossed from one to another, and paddled about as much as they liked.

“It is nicer here than it is at our house,” said Bessie; “we haven’t
got any brook, nor any barn nor corn-crib; and I’m going to ask my papa
to come here to live.”

“Then we could visit every day,” said Nellie; “you could come to see
me, and I could go to see you.”

But when Bessie got back to her home again she forgot all about going
to live at Brook Farm, and was just as well satisfied with grandpapa’s
house as ever.

When they were tired of the brook they put on their shoes and stockings
again and went to look at Martha’s dairy. Martha had said that they
might come and see her make butter.

Bessie liked going into funny little houses, and it was so nice and
cool in the dairy. Everything was so clean and shining, and the tin
milk-pans were bright enough for looking-glasses. Some of them were
full of milk with rich cream on top, and the little visitor was
allowed to skim some of this off in a pitcher for dinner. She liked to
do it very much.

Martha was churning, and she said that the butter had ’most come. She
kept looking into the churn every few minutes; and soon she took out
large yellow lumps and put them on a flat dish.

These lumps were butter, and she washed them very clean in cold water,
and then worked them into shape. She made them into neat-looking pats,
and stamped them with different figures. She let Bessie stamp one with
a wooden rose, and it looked very pretty.

Then Martha gave each of the children a drink of rich buttermilk from
the churn, and they thanked her and went to the house, for it was
nearly dinner-time. When they were not far from the kitchen-door they
knew that Charlie was coming, there was such a terrible screaming.

“Oh, he’s hurt!” said Bessie, looking frightened; “he’s so little, you
know.”

“Pooh!” said Nellie; “I guess he isn’t hurt; he always screams for
nothing.”

It happened that Charlie was hurt this time--pretty badly hurt too, for
a little boy. But it was some time before his mamma knew it, for, as
Nellie said, he always screamed for nothing, and if Aunt Lou had run to
him every time that he screamed she would not have been able to do much
else.

This is the story he told his mamma between his sobs when he had found
her: “Great wicked bumble-bee bited Charlie in his mouf!”

“Let me see the mouth,” said mamma.

Charlie roared afresh with pain, and showed his lip, badly swollen on
the inside. He certainly had been stung, but mamma did not see how the
bee could have got at him there. When she asked her little boy he hung
his head and said that “Charlie bited a little bite out of a napple,
and then the ugly bee bited his mouf;” and then his mamma knew that he
had disobeyed her and gone into the orchard to eat the apples that had
fallen on the ground.

Mamma made her little boy as comfortable as she could, and then she
talked to him about his naughtiness until Charlie felt very sorry and
promised not to disobey again.




IV.


It was a rainy day, and the children could not go out to play by the
brook or in the fields. Bessie’s mamma said that she knew papa would
like to get a letter from his little daughter, so the little daughter
sat down to print one. This was all that Bessie could do in the way of
writing, but she did it pretty well. This is what she wrote, with some
help from mamma:

  “Dear Papa:

 I want to see you very much, for you are the only papa I have got,
 and a great deal nicer than the pigs and chickens and cows. I like
 them very much too. The pigs are funny. Charlie tumbled in one day,
 and the pigs ran into a corner. Aunt Lou said they were frightened at
 Charlie’s screams. He screams when he isn’t hurt. I don’t. Aunt Lou
 says I am a brave little girl, because I fall down and don’t cry.

  From you dear little daughter,

  Bessie.”


Papa was very much pleased indeed with this letter.

Then the little pilgrim wrote one to grandpapa, and grandpapa wrote an
answer to it, and came and brought it himself.

Every one was so glad to see him! and the children soon found that
they had another playmate. Jimmie was named after grandpa, and he
thought that he ought to have him all to himself, but the little girls
would not consent to this. Charlie wanted a “slice of grandpa” too; and
he had to go all over the farm to see all the pets and the brook and
the baby-house. Aunt Lou said that he was not free from the children
except when he was asleep, but grandpapa declared that he did not want
to be free from them.

He said that Bessie had grown half a head; and she certainly looked
like a very chubby, rosy little girl since she had come to stay at Aunt
Lou’s. She drank so much milk and ran about so much in the open air
that she was getting quite strong.

Bessie scarcely thought of Blanche and the little trunk, there were so
many other things to do. But Nellie said she was a beautiful doll, and
that it must be so nice to have a real trunk to put her clothes in; she
wished that her papa would get her one when he went to the city.

Our little pilgrim loved dearly to hunt for eggs.

Once she saw a little bird’s nest with four pretty eggs in it, but she
knew that she must not touch these, for she did not want to make the
little bird-mother unhappy.

Every one loved Bessie, and the children did not like to think of her
ever leaving them. But the time came when she had to go away from Brook
Farm; and, having said good-bye even to the cows and chickens, the
little pilgrim went off again in the cars on her journey home.