“I ’spect there is; and truly, Grandma, after this, when I want to cut up jinks, I’ll wait until I can think it out, whether they’re good jinks or bad jinks! Will that do?”
“That will do admirably,” said Grandma, smiling as she kissed the little girl; “if you go through life on that principle and if you have judgment enough—and I think you have—to tell ‘good jinks’ from ‘bad jinks,’ you will probably have plenty of good times without any necessity for punishment.”
“Then that’s all right,” said Marjorie, and feeling that her life problems were all settled, she dropped off to sleep.
“Marjorie,” said Mrs. Sherwood, one morning, “do you know where Mrs. Dunn lives?”
“Yes, Grandma; down the river-road, toward the blacksmith’s.”
“Yes, that’s right; and I wish you would go down there for me and carry a small basket. There isn’t any one else I can send this morning and I have just heard that she is quite ill.”
“They’re awfully poor people, aren’t they? Are you sending them something nice?”
“Yes; some food. Mrs. Dunn scalded her hands severely last night, and I fear she will not be able to work for several days. So if you will carry them these things for their dinner, I will try to get down there myself this afternoon.”
“Of course I will, Grandma; I’m glad to help the poor people. May I ask Molly to go with me?”
“Why, yes; I don’t care. If there are two of you, you can carry more things. Run over after her, and I’ll have the baskets ready by the time you get back.”
With a hop and a skip, Marjorie took the shortcut across the fields to Molly’s house. It was a beautiful summer morning, and Marjorie didn’t stop more than half a dozen times, to watch the crows or the bees or the clouds or a hop-toad.
She captured Molly, and after waiting for that dishevelled young person to scramble into a clean frock, the two girls hopped and skipped back again.
Marjorie was somewhat inexperienced in the practical matters of charity, and looked with surprise at the large quantity of substantial viands.
“There is a large family of the Dunns,” observed Grandma, “and they’re all blessed with healthy appetites. These things won’t go to waste.”
“Are there children?” asked Marjorie.
“Yes, indeed, four of them. You must see how Mrs. Dunn is and find out if she’s badly hurt. Ask her what she wants especially, and tell her I am coming this afternoon, and I’ll carry it to her.”
The girls trotted away with the well-filled baskets, and Grandma Sherwood looked after them a little uncertainly, as she saw how preoccupied they were in their own conversation, and remembered how careless Marjorie was, and how prone to mischief.
“Thim scalawags’ll be afther havin’ a picnic wid thim baskets,” prophesied Eliza, as she too watched the children’s departure.