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whose delicate wings were just caught in the net. The poor fly buzzed pitifully, and
struggled so hard that the whole web shook: but the more he struggled, the more he
entangled himself, and the fierce spider was preparing to descend that it might weave a
shroud about its prey, when a little finger broke the threads and lifted the fly safely into
the palm of a hand, where he lay faintly humming his thanks.
Nelly had heard much about contrabands, knew who they were, and was very much
interested in them; so, when she freed the poor black fly she played he was her
contraband, and felt glad that her first patient was one that needed help so much.
Carefully brushing away as much of the web as she could, she left small Pompey, as she
named him, to free his own legs, lest her clumsy fingers should hurt him; then she laid
him in one of the soft beds with a grain or two of sugar if he needed refreshment, and
bade him rest and recover from his fright, remembering that he was at liberty to fly away
whenever he liked, because she had no wish to male a slave of him.
Feeling very happy over this new friend, Nelly went on singing softly as she walked, and
presently she found a pretty caterpillar dressed in brown fur, although the day was warm.
He lay so still she thought him dead, till he rolled himself into a ball as she touched him.
"I think you are either faint from the heat of this thick coat of yours, or that you are going
to make a cocoon of yourself, Mr. Fuzz," said Nelly.
"Now I want to see you turn into a butterfly, so I shall take you, and if get lively again I
will let you go. I shall play that you have given out on a march, as the soldiers sometimes
do, and been left behind for the Sanitary people to see to."
In went sulky Mr. Fuzz, and on trundled the ambulance till a golden green rose-beetle
was discovered, lying on his back kicking as if in a fit.
"Dear me, what shall I do for him?" thought Nelly. "He acts as baby did when she was so
illl, and mamma put her in a warm bath. I haven't got my little tub here, or any hot water,
and I'm afraid the beetle would not like it if I had. Perhaps he has pain in his stomach; I'll
turn him over, and pat his back, as nurse does baby's when she cries for pain like that."
She set the beetle on his legs, and did her best to comfort him; but he was evidently in
great distress, for he could not walk, and instead of lifting his emerald overcoat, and
spreading the wings that lay underneath, be turned over again, and kicked more violently
than before. Not knowing what to do, Nelly put him into one of her soft nests for Tony to
cure if possible. She found no more patients in the garden except a dead bee, which she
wrapped in a leaf, and took home to bury. When she came to the grove, it was so green
and cool she longed to sit and listen to the whisper of the pines, and watch the larch-
tassels wave in the wind. But, recollecting her charitable errand, she went rustling along
the pleasant path till she came to another patient, over which she stood considering
several minutes before she could decide whether it was best to take it to her hospital,
because it was a little gray snake, with bruised tail. She knew it would not hurt her, yet
she was afraid of it; she thought it pretty, yet could not like it: she pitied its pain, yet
shrunk from helping it, for it had a fiery eye, and a keep quivering tongue, that looked as
if longing to bite.
"He is a rebel, I wonder if I ought to be good to him," thought Nelly, watching the reptile
writhe with pain. "Will said there were sick rebels in his hospital, and one was very kind
to him. It says, too, in my little book, 'Love your enemies.' I think snakes are mine, but I
guess I'll try and love him because God made him. Some boy will kill him if I leave him
here, and then perhaps his mother will be very sad about it. Come, poor worm, I wish to
help you, so be patient, and don't frighten me."
Then Nelly laid her little handkerchief on the ground, and with a stick gently lifted the
wounded snake upon it, and, folding it together, laid it in the ambulance. She was
thoughtful after that, and so busy puzzling her young head about the duty of loving those
who hate us, and being kind to those who are disagreeable or unkind, that she went
through the rest of the wood quite forgetful of her work. A soft "Queek,queek!" made her
look up and listen. The sound came from the long meadow-grass, and, bending it
carefully back, she found a half-fledged bird, with one wing trailing on the ground, and
its eyes dim with pain or hunger.
"You darling thing, did you fall out of your nest and hurt your wing?" cried Nelly,
looking up into the single tree that stood near by. No nest was to be seen, no parent birds
hovered overhead, and little Robin could only tell its troubles in that mournful "Queek,
queek, queek!"
Nelly ran to get both her chests, and, sitting down beside the bird, tried to feed it. To her
joy it ate crumb after crumb, as if it were half starved, and soon fluttered nearer a
confiding fearlessness that made her very proud. Soon baby Robin seemed quite
comfortable, his eye brightened, he "queeked" no more, and but for the drooping wing
would have been himself again. With one of her bandages Nelly bound both wings
closely to his sides for fear he should hurt himself by trying to fly; and though he seemed
amazed at her proceedings, he behaved very well, only staring at her, and ruffling up his
few feathers in a funny way that made her laugh. Then she had to discover some way of
accommodating her two larger patients so that neither should hurt nor alarm the other. A
bright thought came to her after much pondering. Carefully lifting the handkerchief, she
pinned the two ends to the roof of the cart, and there swung little Forked- tongue, while
Rob lay easily below.
By this time, Nelly began to wonder how it happened that she found so many more
injured things than ever before. But it never entered her innocent head that Tony had
searched the wood and meadow before she was up, and laid most of these creatures ready
to her hands, that she might not be disappointed. She had not yet lost her faith in fairies,
so she fancied they too belonged to her small sisterhood, and presently it did really seem
impossible to doubt that the good folk had been at work.
Coming to the bridge that crossed the brook, she stopped a moment to watch the water
ripple over the bright pebbles, the ferns bend down to drink, and the funny tadpoles frolic
in quieter nooks, where the sun shone, and the dragon-flies swung among the rushes.
When Nelly turned to go on, her blue eyes opened wide. and the handle of the ambulance
dropped with a noise that caused a stout frog to skip into the water heels over head.
Directly in the middle of the bridge was a pretty green tent, made of two tall burdock
leaves. The stems were stuck into cracks between the boards, the tips were pinned
together with a thorn, and one great buttercup nodded in the doorway like a sleepy
sentinel. Nelly stared and smiled, listened, and looked about on every side. Nothing was
seen but the quiet meadow and the shady grove, nothing was heard but the babble of the
brook and the cheery music of the bobolinks.
"Yes," said Nelly softly to herself, "that is a fairy tent, and in it I may find a baby elf sick
with whooping-cough or scarlet-fever. How splendid it would be! only I could never
nurse
such a dainty thing."
Stooping eagerly, she peeped over the buttercup's drowsy head, and saw what seemed a
tiny cock of hay. She had no time to feel disappointed, for the haycock began to stir, and,
looking nearer, she beheld two silvery gray mites, who wagged wee tails, and stretched
themselves as if they had just waked up. Nelly knew that they were young field-mice, and
rejoiced over them, feeling rather relieved that no fairy had appeared, though she still [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]