Little Sally Waters

Once upon a time, and not so long ago, there lived a little girl named Sally Waters.

She was a merry, laughing little girl, with a lively twinkle in her bright blue eyes, a neat pair of dimples--one in each red cheek--and the sauciest little nose that has ever been seen.

Indeed, sometimes her father called her ‘Saucy Sally.’ But that was only his way of saying that he loved her better than any one else in the world, except, of course, Sally’s mother.

One bright summer morning Sally sat out on her doorstep in the sun. At her feet, half asleep, lay Buff, Sally’s plump, yellow pussy-cat. Beside her sat Tippy, her little brown dog, his ears cocked, his nose in the air.

But this morning Sally was not smiling. She looked so sober that Tippy watched her carefully with his shining brown eyes. She looked so very sober that Tippy was almost afraid that Sally was going to cry.

What ailed little Sally Waters, who was usually so merry and full of fun?

The truth is, Sally felt lonely. Not five minutes ago she had waved good-bye to Father and Mother as they started off for a day in the city. And as Sally remembered what a long, long day this was sure to be before she saw Father and Mother again, it really did seem as if Sally were going to cry.

She quite forgot that she was to spend the day with Aunt Bee just next door. She quite forgot that Father had promised to bring her a present from the city. She quite forgot that she had whispered to Mother, with her very last hug, that she would be as good as gold all day long.

All Sally remembered was that Father and Mother had left her. And a big round tear had squeezed itself from the corner of each eye and was actually rolling down her cheek when Tippy sprang up in the air with such a sudden, such a comical sneeze that Sally laughed out loud. Buff opened his sleepy eyes with a look of surprise that made Sally laugh again, while Tippy, seeing Sally’s smiling face, jumped up and down on the doorstep, barking merrily the while.

After her laugh Sally felt better, much better.

‘We must go straight to Aunt Bee’s, Tippy,’ said she, drying her cheeks with the hem of her frock. ‘She will be watching for you and me, I expect. Good-bye, Buff. Take good care of the house, unless you would like to come with us, too,’ she added politely.

Sally knew that Buff usually chose to stay at home alone. So she was not at all surprised to see her pussy settle himself in a sunny spot and prepare to take a comfortable morning nap.

‘Good-bye, Buff,’ said she again. ‘Be a good pussy.’

And with a farewell pat, she and Tippy were off.

Sally might have gone to Aunt Bee’s through the garden and over the hedge. But instead she and Tippy walked down her front path and up Aunt Bee’s just as if she were real company come to spend the day.

As Sally had said, there was Aunt Bee waiting for them in the doorway.

‘Come in, Sally,’ she began briskly, ‘and help me make a cake. Tippy may stay out in the garden and chase the butterflies.’

‘Will you really let me help?’ asked Sally, smiling at the very thought and holding fast to Aunt Bee’s hand on their way out to the kitchen. ‘What can I do to help, Aunt Bee?’

‘You can beat eggs, and butter pans, and watch,’ was Aunt Bee’s answer, as she fastened an apron on Sally that reached from her neck to her heels.

So first of all, Sally buttered pans with might and main. Then she spun Aunt Bee’s little egg-beater round and round and round until her bowl of eggs was as white and frothy as cream.

‘Better than I could do it myself, Sally,’ said Aunt Bee with a smile.

Last of all she watched Aunt Bee mix the batter, and pour it into the pans, and shut it in the oven. She watched her make the icing, chocolate icing, too.

Then Sally stopped watching because she was scraping, scraping the bowls and eating what she scraped. She ate a whole spoonful of cake batter and more than a spoonful of icing.

‘You have scraped the bowls so clean I am afraid you won’t be able to eat your luncheon,’ said Aunt Bee.

But that was not true. Sally did eat her luncheon, running out to the pantry only twice to see whether the icing on the cake had grown quite hard.

For the cake was to be used at a party later that afternoon.

‘We will carry a little table out into the garden, Sally, under the black-cherry tree,’ said Aunt Bee. ‘You would like that better than going down to the rocks this afternoon, wouldn’t you?’

Sally, you must know, lived by the sea, and almost every day went down to play on the rocky shore. A garden party would be much more of a treat, and Sally said so, with her arms about Aunt Bee’s neck in a tight, tight squeeze.

‘I thought you would like a party,’ said wise Aunt Bee. ‘You shall set the table with the dishes I had when I was a little girl, and then you and I will sit down like ladies at tea and have the party.’

Sally pressed her hands together hard and smiled all over her round little face.

‘This is the very nicest time I have had since--since Christmas,’ said Sally with a gay little hop. ‘I think you are just as good as Santa Claus, Aunt Bee.’

Then Sally had a thought.

‘Won’t Tippy have any of the party?’ asked Sally.

‘Tippy? He shall have a bone,’ was Aunt Bee’s answer. ‘That is the kind of a party he will like, you know.’

So Sally went into the garden to tell Tippy all about the party. And as Tippy was still chasing butterflies, Sally in turn chased Tippy round and round, in and out the garden beds, until at last she and Tippy could run no more and sat themselves down on the doorstep to cool off and rest.

Now the street upon which both Sally and Aunt Bee lived was a narrow street, a narrow, crooked little street that ran downhill to the sea with many a twist and turn. And across the way from Aunt Bee and Sally there stood a little house on the slope of the hill in which lived their friend Miss Neppy Lee.

Miss Neppy was a little old lady who lived all alone, with not even a cat or a dog to keep her company. But early every summer Miss Neppy put a sign in her front window, a card that read ‘Rooms,’ and every summer Miss Neppy had a paying guest or two who stayed until the flowers had gone and the wind grew cold and autumn and winter were close at hand.

Sally was always interested in Miss Neppy’s ‘Roomers,’ as they were called. Very often the ‘Roomer’ would be a tall young man or a pretty young lady who, every day, with paint box and easel, would go down to the rocks at the end of Sally’s street to paint pictures of the sea. They usually nodded and waved their hands at the little girl over the way who smiled at them from her doorstep in such friendly fashion. ‘Roomers’ seemed pleasant people to Sally, and she wished with all her heart that Mother and Aunt Bee would put signs in their front windows and take ‘Roomers,’ too.

Now, as Sally sat in Aunt Bee’s doorway, she glanced over at Miss Neppy’s window, where last night the sign ‘Rooms’ had gleamed in all its black and white. And in a twinkling, Sally saw that the sign ‘Rooms’ was gone. Even more, as she looked, she saw Miss Neppy’s front door open and a little girl slip out and seat herself on the doorstone.

She was a small girl, not quite so tall as Sally. Her eyes were brown, a gentle brown, while Sally’s were bright and blue. Her brown hair curled softly about her face, not at all like Sally’s yellow mop that had to be brushed and brushed before it would even think of lying down.