Books: Master Sunshine
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Mrs. C. F. Fraser >> Master Sunshine
CONTENTS.
I. WHO HE WAS
II. THE WANDERER AND HIS WIFE
III. THE RAINY DAY
IV. A SUNDAY WITH FATHER
V. BEING A HERO
VI. KIND DEEDS
VII. A HAPPY ENDING
CHAPTER I.
WHO HE WAS.
Of course his real name was not Master Sunshine.
Who ever heard of a boy with a name like that?
But his mother said that long before he could speak he chose the
name for himself, for even as a baby he was full of a cheery good
humor that was always sparkling out in his winning smiles and his
rippling laugh. He was a good-natured, happy child from the time
that he could toddle about; and he was very young when he began to
give pleasure to his friends by serving them in all the little
ways within his power.
The very golden curls that topped his small head glistened as if
they had caught and imprisoned the glory of the morning sun; and
it really did seem as if a better name could not be found for the
merry, helpful little fellow than Master Sunshine.
His real name was a very different affair--Frederick Alexander
Norton--and his boy friends called him Freddy for short. His
little sister Lucy called him "buzzer" and Suns'ine; and Almira
Jane, the help, who made the brownest and crispest of molasses
cookies, and the most delicious twisted doughnuts, said he was a
"swate angel of light," except at such times as she called him a
"rascalpion."
Master Sunshine never stopped to argue with Almira Jane when she
called him a "rascalpion." He knew that this was a plain sign that
she was getting "nervous;" and when Almira Jane was nervous, it
was always best for small boys to be out of the way.
A little later, when the kitchen floor had been scrubbed, and the
stove polished like a shiny black mirror, and the bread-dough had
been kneaded and set to rise, he knew he would be a welcome
visitor again.
Perhaps that was one of the many reasons why people loved him so.
He was always considerate. He had the good sense not to keep on
asking questions and offering help when it was best to go quietly
away. Somehow he always felt sure that his turn would come
presently, and that Almira Jane would be sorry she had called him
such a hard name, and would be only too pleased to have him look
over the beans for the bean-pot, and fill the wood-box, and do all
the other little kitchen chores that he delighted in.
There were sure to be pleasant times after one of Almira Jane's
nervous attacks. When she was quite over her flurry and worry,
Daisy, the Maltese cat, would crawl out of her hiding-place under
the stove, and arch her tail, and purr contentedly as she rubbed
her long, graceful body against the table-legs; while Gyp, the pet
dog, would hurry in from the dog-house under the shade of the
orchard-trees, and jump on Almira Jane's shoulder, and she would
be as pleased as possible over his knowing ways. At such times
Master Sunshine was very fond of Almira Jane.
He loved Lucy with a steady affection, too, though she pulled his
curls sometimes until he fairly expected to lose the whole of his
golden locks. She needed a great deal of patient amusement, too,
and she was not very considerate of his belongings.
One day he was very angry, and his hand was lifted in anger
against her.
The trouble was that she had torn in two his favorite picture of
elephants in his animal book. The little girl was quite unaware of
the mischief her chubby fingers had wrought, but she knew very
well by the look of Master Sunshine's overcast face that in some
way she had displeased him.
So, pursing up her lips in a smile not unlike his own sunshiny
one, she lisped, in funny imitation of her mother,--
"Never mind, Suns'ine, little sister's sorry;" and, strange to
say, at her words the angry passion left him, and tears of shame
stood in his blue eyes.
"Of course," he said afterwards, in telling the story to his
mother, "I know that Lucy didn't know the sense of what she was
saying, but she did seem to know how to get at the "sensibliness"
of me. Just imagine, mother, how bad we would all have felt if I
had struck my own dear sister that God sent us to take care of!"
And that was so like Master Sunshine. He never willingly gave pain
to any living creature; and although he was sometimes careless and
forgetful, just like other boys, yet he was never known to be
wilfully unkind.
He loved his mother very dearly too, and perhaps it was from her
gentle ways that he had learned to be so thoughtful for others. He
told her all his joys, and all his secrets save one; and he dearly
loved the bedtime hour, when she read to him the stories that he
most admired,--stories of brave deeds were the kind he was always
asking for. But neither of them ever dreamed that the quiet
bedtime hours were teaching him to be a hero.
It did not seem possible that an eight-year-old boy could be a
hero such as one reads of in books.
Of course, he was going to do great things when he was a man. He
meant to make a great fortune, of which half was to be his
mother's; and if she chose to spend it on churches and
missionaries and schools, so much the better.
He was sure she would rather do this than buy herself handsome
dresses and diamond rings and ruby necklaces; and he was quite
certain that, when she wore her gray gown and her gray bonnet,
with the purple violets tucked under the brim, that she was the
most beautiful lady in the world.
His own share of the fortune he planned to spend in many ways. He
promised himself, among other things, that he would put up a
fountain in the village, where tired people and thirsty horses and
cows and dogs and birds would come for a drink. "I'd have a text
on it too," he would say, with his eyes shining with excitement.
"It should be, 'I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink.' And of
course 'I' would mean the Lord; for the Bible tells us how kind he
was to all helpless things, and I think he would be pleased to
have all the animals tended to as well as the thirsty people. I
wish I could be a man now, and they would not have to go thirsty
any longer."
He often told Almira Jane about the fountain too; and she always
said that it was a capital idea.
But it was to his father only that he told his secret.
It was a queer secret, and a very real trouble, too, I can tell
you.
Part of it was that Master Sunshine was just the least bit bow-
legged.
Of course there could not be much of a secret about that. Lots of
people knew it quite well. In fact, if you looked carefully at the
well-shaped limbs in the trim blue stockings and neat knicker-
bockers, you could easily see that the legs curved slightly
outwards.
But the real secret--the real heart and soul of the matter--was
that being bow-legged was a great, great grief to Master Sunshine.
No one but his father ever knew this--not even his mother, or
Almira Jane, or Lucy. It was too sore a subject to speak of
freely.
It was on the day when he first put on trousers that his troubles
began. It seemed to him that people began then to make such odd
remarks about him; and the strangest thing of all was that they
would seem to quite forget that he heard every word they said, and
that they never seemed to understand how they were hurting his
feelings.
For a time he solved the difficulty in a clever way. He begged his
mother to make him some loose sailor suits with long bagging legs.
They served their purpose well, and so long as they lasted no one
ever spoke of the tender subject that he wished to avoid. But
still he never felt comfortable about them in his mind.
It seemed such a cowardly thing to hide his legs like that, and he
did so want to be manly in all his ways.
So, after a long talk one day with his father, as they sauntered
hand in hand down a shady country road, with Gyp sporting and
playing alongside, he decided to face the trouble bravely, and
wear knickerbockers like other boys of his age. And, instead of
sulking or fretting about what he could not help, he set himself
to making allowances for other people.
"Father says that every one has his trials," he would say to
himself sagely; "and I dare say that most folks have worse trials
than mine. So when Almira Jane is 'nervous,' and Lucy is fretful,
or mother has her bad headaches, I must just remember to be
'specially good to them. Maybe, after all, bow-leggedness isn't
the worst thing to put up with."
CHAPTER II.
THE WANDERER AND HIS WIFE.
Master Sunshine was such a busy boy. Sometimes it seemed to him
that the reason he did not get into as much mischief as other boys
of his age was because he really had no time in which to be idle.
There was school each day, to begin with, and lessons to be
prepared, and story-books to read, and the flower-garden to be
cared for, and Gyp to teach new tricks to, and the pets to be
tended and looked after,--in fact, there were more things than I
can tell you of always waiting to be done.
It was nearly one boy's work, for instance, to take care of the
Guinea fowls,--the handsome, mottled hens, that never knew when
they were well off, but were always running away and getting lost.
If it had not been for their shrill, silly cackle, their hiding-
places would never have been found. Master Sunshine pursued them
every time they strayed, and brought them home triumphantly. I
think he loved his sturdy family of Cochin Chinas best; for the
great rooster, with his well-feathered legs and scarlet comb,
always seemed to recognize him as a friend, and the plump hens
laid the most delicious eggs, the exact hue of their own buff
plumage. It was never any trouble to feed and water them, or to
let them out of the hen-yard for a short run.
Every one knew that the Wanderer and his Wife were Master
Sunshine's property. The Wanderer was a great white gander, with a
long neck and a still longer tongue, if one could measure it by
the clatter it made in the world. His Wife was a patient gray
goose, who waddled after him unceasingly, and was always ready to
add her shrill voice to his.
It troubled their young owner not a little that the Wanderer had
to wear a great yoke of light wood about his neck; but after the
bird had twice run away and trampled the gardens of their
neighbors, he could see that it was necessary.
Almira Jane put the matter very clearly before him. "I don't think
he does like his collar much, and it ain't really ornamental,"
said she; "but it is kinder to the neighbors to have him wear a
yoke so that he cannot squeeze between the pickets in the fences
to destroy the gardens."
"But the goose may do the same mischief," interrupted Master
Sunshine anxiously.
Almira Jane shook her head wisely.
"The poor silly thing will never think of it by herself," she
answered. "All she does is to follow her mate; and if we keep him
out of trouble, she will be all right, I promise you."
It always made Almira Jane laugh when she thought of the day when
Master Sunshine brought the Wanderers home. Master Sunshine had
gone to old Mrs. Sorefoot, who lived down the road, to get a
setting of Leghorn eggs. The old lady, whose life was being made
miserable by the clamor of the pair of geese which a grandchild
had brought her the week before as a particularly choice gift,
told Master Sunshine that, if he would but take them away, they
should be his property.
The little fellow was more delighted than I can tell you. He had
always wanted to own geese, and this was such a good chance. And
he made up his mind on the instant that as soon as he got them
home, he would remove the queer-looking collar from the gander's
neck.
Then he set out for home, oh, so proudly!
On one arm he carried carefully the basket of eggs; under the
other was the gray goose, with her legs securely tied. Behind him,
led, or rather dragged, by a stout cord passed through the opening
in the yoke, came the white gander, who was quite able by
spreading his powerful wings to contest every step of the way.
Poor Master Sunshine! What a time he did have, and how very hot
and excited he was before he reached home!
Almira Jane saw him coming, and flew to meet him. Never in her
life had she seen such a strange sight. The little fellow set the
basket of eggs gently on the ground, laid the struggling goose on
her side, and made the Wanderer fast to a fence-post, before he
could answer her many questions.
Then he mopped his forehead with his small handkerchief, and drew
a deep sigh of relief.
"O Almira Jane! it has been the worst time," he said. "If you'll
just look at my stockings, I am afraid you will see that there is
lots of darning to be done."
Almira Jane surveyed the calves of his plump legs wonderingly.
Sure enough, there were dozens of little round holes through which
the pink skin was showing. There were even little stains of blood
on the ravelled yarn.
"The old gander has nipped my legs with his sharp bill, and butted
me with his yoke, and pulled on the string so I could scarcely
keep my feet. The gray goose has flapped me with her wings
whenever she got the chance; and in getting them safely here, I
nearly fell a dozen times, and broke the whole setting of eggs,"
he said excitedly.
Almira Jane looked admiringly at him. "You ain't got much
strength, but you got considerable grit," she said proudly.
"But they didn't know how inconvenient it was for me," added the
boy more calmly. "When they see how kind we are to them, I think
they will be sorry about the way they treated me."
Almira Jane looked at the gander critically, and cut the string
that bound the gray goose's legs, before she made any reply.
"They need their wings clipped," she said. "That is the kindest
thing we can do for them."
Master Sunshine looked both surprised and grieved.
"You see, Sunshine," she continued, "geese are wild birds still,
though generations and generations of our grandfathers tried to
tame them, yet they are not wild enough to look after themselves.
When they stray away from their homes they have not wit enough
either to find food which is suitable to them, or to hide
themselves from dogs or wild animals who delight to worry them; so
the best thing we can do is to fit them for the life we want them
to lead."
Master Sunshine nodded thoughtfully. He had great faith in Almira
Jane's knowledge, and the good sense of her arguments always
satisfied his judgment.
It was not until he had gone in the house, and was well out of
hearing, that Almira Jane began to laugh; and such a clear,
ringing, downright, hearty laugh it was, the old Wanderer bumped
his yoke against the fence to show his approval, and the gray
goose joined in with high, shrill screams of delight. It really
seemed as if they were trying to tell Almira Jane what they
thought of their journey along the road with their new master.
There were not many houses near the pretty white cottage in which
Master Sunshine lived. The Hill-top school, of which he was a
pupil, was quite a half-mile away; and Tommy Dane, who lived just
across the street from his home, used to walk there with him every
day. Master Sunshine was very fond of Tommy, though his little
friend had some ways that he did not wholly like.
The only other boy near-by was Billy Butler, a poor, half-witted
idiot, who lived with his family in a tiny cottage under the side
of a hill. Master Sunshine was very pitiful of Billy's sad lot,
and many an apple and slice of bread did he share with him.
Not far away was the beautiful summer house of Mr. Patterson, a
city banker. The lawns and flower-beds there were always beautiful
to see; and the great house with its many bay windows and broad
verandas always seemed like a palace to Master Sunshine. But best
of all he loved the great stable where a prancing silver horse was
always riding on the weather vane.
It was at the stable that he saw his friend Jacob, who was quite
as wonderful in his knowledge of animals as Almira Jane.
It took a great deal of Master Sunshine's time just to repeat
Jacob's stories to Almira Jane; and he noticed that whenever he
began to tell Jacob about what Almira Jane said--Almira Jane was
brought up on a Nova Scotia farm and knew everything about
animals--his listener would stamp on the barn floor to show his
approval, and would listen to every word.
The great stable was a very pleasant place these spring days. The
horses were all so well groomed, their stalls were all so
perfectly clean, and, in the barn beyond, the cows looked round
from their place with such friendly eyes, Master Sunshine used to
wish that every one in the village would come to admire the place
and to talk with Jacob. He was sure that everyone who talked to
Jacob would be kind to animals ever after.
CHAPTER III.
THE RAINY DAY.
The sky was all leaden and overcast when Master Sunshine woke up
one morning. The fast-falling rain-drops were so big and so close
together that it almost seemed as if some great sky-ocean was
pouring down upon the earth. It was too wet for him to go to
school, and he had to make up his mind to enjoy a quiet day in-
doors.
Almira Jane put on her waterproof and rubbers, and attended to the
hens and the geese; and in order to pay her back for doing his
work, Master Sunshine polished the silver spoons and forks with
whitening, and rubbed them with a chamois-skin until they fairly
gleamed. Then after he had tidied up the wood-shed, and cut paper
in a fancy pattern for the dresser shelves, he decided that he was
a bit tired of doing things, and he curled up in the big crimson
arm-chair by the dining-room window with a new story-book.
Presently Lucy's voice arose in a fretful wail.
Master Sunshine, I am sorry to say, shut his ears to her pitiful
cry. He was so comfortable and cosey and the story-book was so
interesting.
The wail became louder and louder. It was evident that Lucy was on
her way down-stairs. In a moment she was in the room by his side,
and by this time her wail had grown to a terrified scream.
"O Suns'ine! take zem kitty off!" she begged.
Truly enough his little sister was in great trouble. But a minute
before Spry, the kitten, had strayed away from the mother-cat, and
Lucy and she had got into mischief already.
Master Sunshine made haste to lift the kitten from Lucy's
shoulder, where it had taken refuge; and he was very sorry to see
that the sharp claws of the little paws had made their marks on
her plump neck.
"Kiss it p'ease, and make it well," begged Lucy tearfully as she
climbed on his knee; while the kitten, after looking nervously
around, sought refuge in Master Sunshine's coat-pocket.
"Lucy was dwessin' kitty in dollie's clothes, and it went 'spitz!'
and runned up her shoulder," wept Lucy.
Master Sunshine kissed the smarting neck, and cuddled the pet in
his arms.
"Buzzer will slap kitty for biting sister wiz its finder nails,"
she begged.
"Brother will show sister how to be kind to kitty," he answered,
as he drew the trembling ball of fur from its hiding-place, and
stroked it with a tender hand. "Spry is not a dolly, and does not
like to wear dollie's clothes. Lucy will rub her under her chin
just above the white star on her breast, and she will sing a
pretty cat-song to show how happy she is, and brother will show
Lucy how to lift kitty by the loose skin about her neck. Lucy must
play she is mother-cat whenever she plays with Spry."
And at the prospect of such a new and delightful game Lucy dried
her eyes, and called him her "dee, dee Suns'ine."
And then, what do you suppose? Why, she just laid her tear-stained
face up against his shoulder, and opened her rosy mouth in a great
yawn, and dropped quietly off to sleep.
But Master Sunshine's thoughts were not quite so care-free as
Lucy's. "Next time I must be a better brother," he said to
himself; and when his mother came to carry the baby to her crib,
he would not let her give him a word of praise. "I am too ashamed
to tell you why, mother," he said; "but after this I mean to take
better care of my little sister."
The rain kept falling steadily, and after dinner, when mamma had
gone to lie down, and Almira Jane was washing up the dishes,
Master Sunshine was drumming on the window-pane, and wondering
what he should do the whole long afternoon. Just then Tommy Dane
came running up towards the house, and behind him scampered a dog,
very like Gyp, who, when he heard the familiar bark, put his paws
on the window-sill, and wagged his tail with delight; while Daisy,
meowing to Spry to follow her, fled hastily up the kitchen
stairway.
"Mother said I might bring Tim over and have you teach him tricks
this afternoon," announced Tommy, shaking the rain off his coat.
"Tim is not a smart dog, like your Gyp. He does not seem to be
able to think. I almost wish I had taken Gyp when I had the
chance."
Master Sunshine and Tommy had got their dogs from the same litter
of puppies, and Tommy had had the first choice.
"Tim is such a cross, snappy dog," continued Tommy. "He makes me
angry every time I try to teach him anything."
"May be it is because you are angry that he is cross and snappy,"
said Almira Jane, half under her breath.
Of course Master Sunshine was very proud to exhibit Gyp. He loved
to have his pet look up at him with trusting brown eyes; and when
Gyp sprang on his knee, and put his paws affectionately about his
master's neck, it always seemed as if he were not quite a dog, but
something very like a dear human friend. Gyp had such winning ways
too. He would stand on his hind legs and beg, or he would seat
himself on a chair, and hold out a paw to shake hands with, in the
most knowing manner; and all of these accomplishments he owed to
his little master's patient teaching.
Almira Jane was through washing the dishes now; and as she took
the broom in hand to begin sweeping out the kitchen, Tim gave a
frightened growl, and fled to the dining-room.
Almira Jane grew very red in the face as she said, "That dog can
think well enough, and tell his thoughts too. It is plain to me
that some one has used a broom to ill-treat the poor, helpless
creature with."
Almira Jane looked very hard at Tommy as she spoke; but Tommy
threw back his head as if he did not much care what she said, and
followed his dog into the dining-room. "Let's keep away from that
girl," he said coaxingly; "it seems to me she is very
interfering."
"She taught me how to teach Gyp," said Master Sunshine politely;
"and she is very wise about animals. You'll be fond of her, too,
when you understand her ways. She only gets 'nervous,' like she
was now, when she is very busy and hurried, or when she thinks
people have been unkind. I'm sure she did not mean that you had
beaten your Tim with a broom."
Tommy hung his head.
"But I did," he said, almost in a whisper; "he would not shake
hands, as I wanted him to, so I took up the broom and gave him a
blow with it. I thought no one saw me do it, and I never imagined
Tim would tell."
Master Sunshine was very much shocked. He had not believed that
his friend would be guilty of such a deed. "Tommy," he said
gravely, "if you are unkind to Tim he will never look at you as if
he loved you, and that is the nicest thing about having a dog."
"I got him a pound of raw meat from the butcher's to make up for
it," said Tommy, half sulkily.
"But that wasn't kind, either, though you meant it to be so,"
cried Master Sunshine; "Tim is too young a dog to have so much
meat at one time. He needs to have his meals regularly, just like
you and me. Too much fresh meat will make him very cross. Perhaps
that is part of the reason why he snaps at you."
Tommy was much interested. "I wonder why I never knew that
before?" he cried. "After this I will see about his meals myself.
I always thought that if you gave a dog a bone now and then he
would get along all right."
By this time Master Sunshine was busy with Tim, propping him on
his hind legs, and rewarding him each time he held himself erect
for a second with a kind word or a pat on the head; and when at
last Tim balanced himself for a whole half-minute, his teacher
flew to the kitchen for a lump of sugar, which the dog crunched
with great enjoyment between his sharp white teeth.
It was quite dark before they noticed how the time was going. The
clock was just striking six when Almira Jane put her head in at
the dining-room door.
"Mrs. Dane is calling for Tommy," she announced; "and before he
goes I must give you each a bit of lunch." And whipping open the
oven door with a corner of her apron, she drew out a couple of
puffy apple turnovers, all fragrant with cinnamon and gummy with
sugar, and sizzling with hot apple-juice. Tommy glanced slyly at
her as he bit into his dainty.
"Your Almira Jane has nice ways, even if her eyes are sharp," he
said to Master Sunshine as he bade him good-by.
CHAPTER IV.
A SUNDAY WITH FATHER.
What a welcome day Sunday was to Master Sunshine!
To be sure he did not always enjoy going to church, for sometimes
the sermon seemed long and tiresome; but there was always the
singing to look forward to, and the breaking up of the
congregation after the benediction had been said. It was always so
pleasant then, for the ladies in their pretty gowns and the men in
their black Sunday coats exchanged kindly greetings with one
another; and Master Sunshine, in his best blue blouse, with golden
anchors embroidered on the shoulders, would follow sedately with
his family, and shake hands with the minister, and nod to his boy
and girl acquaintances in a very grown-up manner.