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Marjorie’s Three Gifts-by Louisa May Alcott-Novel and Ebooks

Novel Name:Marjorie’s Three Gifts

Written by:Loiusa May Alcott

Category: Classics, Fiction

Page 1:

(1899)

 

Marjorie sat on the door-step, shelling peas, quite unconscious what
a pretty picture she made, with the roses peeping at her through the
lattice work of the porch, the wind playing hide-and-seek in her
curly hair, while the sunshine with its silent magic changed her
faded gingham to a golden gown, and shimmered on the bright tin pan
as if it were a silver shield. Old Rover lay at her feet, the white
kitten purred on her shoulder, and friendly robins hopped about her
in the grass, chirping “A happy birthday, Marjorie!”

But the little maid neither saw nor heard, for her eyes were fixed
on the green pods, and her thoughts were far away. She was recalling
the fairy-tale granny told her last night, and wishing with all her
heart that such things happened nowadays. For in this story, as a
poor girl like herself sat spinning before the door, a Brownie came
by, and gave the child a good-luck penny; then a fairy passed, and
left a talisman which would keep her always happy; and last of all,
the prince rolled up in his chariot, and took her away to reign with
him over a lovely kingdom, as a reward for her many kindnesses to
others.

When Marjorie imagined this part of the story, it was impossible to
help giving one little sigh, and for a minute she forgot her work,
so busy was she thinking what beautiful presents she would give to
all the poor children in her realm when THEY had birthdays. Five
impatient young peas took this opportunity to escape from the
half-open pod in her hand and skip down the steps, to be immediately
gobbled up by an audacious robin, who gave thanks in such a shrill
chirp that Marjorie woke up, laughed, and fell to work again. She
was just finishing, when a voice called out from the lane,–

“Hi, there! come here a minute, child!” and looking up, she saw a
little old man in a queer little carriage drawn by a fat little
pony.

Running down to the gate, Marjorie dropped a curtsy, saying
pleasantly,–

“What did you wish, sir?”

“Just undo that check-rein for me. I am lame, and Jack wants to
drink at your brook,” answered the old man, nodding at her till his
spectacles danced on his nose.

Marjorie was rather afraid of the fat pony, who tossed his head,
whisked his tail, and stamped his feet as if he was of a peppery
temper. But she liked to be useful, and just then felt as if there
were few things she could NOT do if she tried, because it was her
birthday. So she proudly let down the rein, and when Jack went
splashing into the brook, she stood on the bridge, waiting to check
him up again after he had drunk his fill of the clear, cool water.

The old gentleman sat in his place, looking up at the little girl,
who was smiling to herself as she watched the blue dragon-flies
dance among the ferns, a blackbird tilt on the alderboughs, and
listened to the babble of the brook.

“How old are you, child?” asked the old man, as if he rather envied
tihs rosy creature her youth and health.

“Twelve to-day, sir;” and Marjorie stood up straight and tall, as if
mindful of her years.

“Had any presents?” asked the old man, peering up with an odd smile.

“One, sir,–here it is;” and she pulled out of her pocket a tin
savings-bank in the shape of a desirable family mansion, painted
red, with a green door and black chimney. Proudly displaying it on
the rude railing of the bridge, she added, with a happy face,–

“Granny gave it to me, and all the money in it is going to be mine.”

“How much have you got?” asked the old gentleman, who appeared to
like to sit there in the middle of the brook, while Jack bathed his
feet and leisurely gurgled and sneezed.

“Not a penny yet, but I’m going to earn some,” answered Marjorie,
patting the little bank with an air of resolution pretty to see.

“How will you do it?” continued the inquisitive old man.

“Oh, I’m going to pick berries and dig dandelions, and weed, and
drive cows, and do chores. It is vacation, and I can work all the
time, and earn ever so much.”

“But vacation is play-time,–how about that?”

“Why, that sort of work IS play, and I get bits of fun all along. I
always have a good swing when I go for the cows, and pick flowers
with the dandelions. Weeding isn’t so nice, but berrying is very
pleasant, and we have good times all together.”

“What shall you do with your money when you get it?”

“Oh, lots of things! Buy books and clothes for school, and, if I get
a great deal, give some to granny. I’d love to do that, for she
takes care of me, and I’d be so proud to help her!”

“Good little lass!” said the old gentleman, as he put his hand in
his pocket. “Would you now?” he added, apparently addressing himself
to a large frog who sat upon a stone, looking so wise and
grandfatherly that it really did seem quite proper to consult him.
At all events, he gave his opinion in the most decided manner, for,
with a loud croak, he turned an undignified somersault into the
brook, splashing up the water at a great rate. “Well, perhaps it
wouldn’t be best on the whole. Industry is a good teacher, and money
cannot buy happiness, as I know to my sorrow.”

The old gentleman still seemed to be talking to the frog, and as he
spoke he took his hand out of his pocket with less in it than he had
at first intended.

“What a very queer person!” thought Marjorie, for she had not heard
a word, and wondered what he was thinking about down there.

Jack walked out of the brook just then, and she ran to check him up;
not an easy task for little hands, as he preferred to nibble the
grass on the bank. But she did it cleverly, smoothed the ruffled
mane, and, dropping another curtsy, stood aside to let the little
carriage pass.

“Thank you, child–thank you. Here is something for your bank, and
good luck to it.”

As he spoke, the old man laid a bright gold dollar in her hand,
patted the rosy cheek, and vanished in a cloud of dust, leaving
Marjorie so astonished at the grandeur of the gift, that she stood
looking at it as if it had been a fortune. It was to her; and
visions of pink calico gowns, new grammars, and fresh hat-ribbons
danced through her head in delightful confusion, as her eyes rested
on the shining coin in her palm.

Then, with a solemn air, she invested her first money by popping it
down the chimney of the scarlet mansion, and peeping in with one eye
to see if it landed safely on the ground-floor. This done, she took
a long breath, and looked over the railing, to be sure it was not
all a dream. No; the wheel marks were still there, the brown water
was not yet clear, and, if a witness was needed, there sat the big
frog again, looking so like the old gentleman, with his bottle-green
coat, speckled trousers, and twinkling eyes, that Marjorie burst out
laughing, and clapped her hands, saying aloud,–

“I’ll play he was the Brownie, and this is the good-luck penny he
gave me. Oh, what fun!” and away she skipped, rattling the dear new
bank like a castanet.

When she had told granny all about it, she got knife and basket, and
went out to dig dandelions; for the desire to increase her fortune
was so strong, she could not rest a minute. Up and down she went, so
busily peering and digging, that she never lifted up her eyes till
something like a great white bird skimmed by so low she could not
help seeing it. A pleasant laugh sounded behind her as she started
up, and, looking round, she nearly sat down again in sheer surprise,
for there close by was a slender little lady, comfortably
established under a big umbrella.

“If there WERE any fairies, I’d be sure that was one,” thought
Marjorie, staring with all her might, for her mind was still full of
the old story; and curious things do happen on birthdays, as every
one knows.

It really did seem rather elfish to look up suddenly and see a
lovely lady all in white, with shining hair and a wand in her hand,
sitting under what looked very like a large yellow mushroom in the
middle of a meadow, where, till now, nothing but cows and
grasshoppers had been seen. Before Marjorie could decide the
question, the pleasant laugh came again, and the stranger said,
pointing to the white thing that was still fluttering over the grass
like a little cloud,–

Filed in: Children, Classics, Fairytales, Fantasy, Fiction

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