Lolla by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

LOLLA walked along under the trees, feeling rather fretful and dissatisfied, though she could not exactly tell why. She fancied the pail grew heavier every minute.

"I wonder if that cover is on tight? " said she to herself. "It wouldn't be very nice for the ice and salt to get into the porridge, or whatever it is. I don't believe it will be good, anyway, when it gets there. It will be all melted."

There are many low stone walls in the village of Dorchester, which are very nice to sit down upon, especially when, as it often happens, there is a large elm-tree exactly in the right place to keep off the sun. Lolla found just such a place in the retired lane through which she was passing, and sat down for a rest. She looked this way and that, and, seeing nobody, she pulled off the cover of the small pail.

The frozen milk porridge looked very nice and inviting, and Lolla could not resist the temptation.

"Nobody will know if I just taste it," said she.

She had no spoon; but gluttons are not apt to be nice. She put in her finger, and, scooping up a large mouthful, she hastily swallowed it. It was certainly very nice,-as good as ice-cream; and, almost without thinking, Lolla took another mouthful.

When I was a little girl and used to gather raspberries, I used to make it a rule not to taste one till I had gathered all that I wanted to take home; because I found by experience that it was much easier not to eat the first raspberry than it was not to eat the second. Lolla discovered the same thing with regard to the iced porridge. Having begun, she found it hard to leave off. She took mouthful after mouthful, intending that every one should be the last. Meantime, the warm air was rapidly melting the porridge, and making it run together as fast as she took it out: so that she did not discover what havoc she was making, till a deeper dig than usual uncovered the bottom of the pail. She was frightened to see that there was not a teacupful left. Then, indeed, she wished she had let it alone.

"What shall I do now? " said she to herself. "There is no use in carrying that little bit to Jessie. She will know that aunt never sent such a small parcel as that; and, besides, the side of the pail shows how much there was in the first, place. Hateful stuff! I wish I never had seen it! Aunt ought to have sent Philly with it. But I may as well eat the rest, now that I have begun; and then what shall I do with the pails? Aunt told me to leave them there at Jessie's; and if I bring them back, she will surely suspect something. Oh, what shall I do?"

Lolla thought and thought, but could come to no conclusion. At last, however, she hid the two empty pails among some weeds and brambles in a corner of the wall, and turned into the street that led to the store.

"My aunt wants you to send her seven lemons," said she to the shop-man; "and I want five cents' worth of nice raisins."

The lemons were done up in a parcel, and the raisins put into Lolla's pocket, from which they were soon transferred to her mouth. Then she undid the parcel, and took out the odd lemon, taking care to select the largest. She had fully intended to keep it for home consumption; but the smell was too inviting, and presently she found herself sucking it as she walked along.

Lolla's stomach had been long accustomed to excesses; but a handful of raisins and the juice of a lemon upon the top of more than a pint of frozen milk was more than it could endure. Before she reached the cottage, Lolla found herself feeling very ill. Her head was dizzy, and she had a strange pain, as though she had swallowed some hot coals. She had hardly strength to open the gate; and it seemed to her that the walk which led up to the cottage was a mile long.

"Oh, Lolla, I am glad you have come. Guess what we are going to have for dinner! Beautiful raspberry ice-cream! I froze it myself, after you went away. But what is the matter? " cried Philly, in alarm, as Lolla dropped on the nearest seat. "Oh, dear! Sarah, come here,-do! Lolla is dying, I do believe!"

"Nonsense! " returned Sarah, sharply. "Don't call out like that, child! Here, Lolla, what is the matter? Why, you do look badly, sure enough! What have you been doing? Call Miss Delight, Philly, as quick as you can! She is in the greenhouse."

Nobody enjoyed the raspberry-cream, or any thing else of the nice dinner Sarah had provided; for every one had their hands full with Lolla. Miss Delight held her in her arms, or rubbed her convulsed limbs; Sarah was busy with the bath and with hot mustard-poultices; and Mr. Locke was gone post-haste for the doctor; for Lolla was in a fit, and for a good while it seemed rather doubtful whether she would ever come out of it.

"Has she eaten any thing more than usual? " asked the doctor.

"Not that I am aware of," replied Miss Delight. "She was accustomed at home to eat every thing she took a fancy to, and at all times and seasons; but I have been careful of her diet since she came to me, and her health has greatly improved. Latterly, however, she has not seemed as well; and I have not been able to find out what was the matter."

Philly heard this conversation, and it threw her into a state of great perplexity. She felt as though she ought to tell Miss Delight what she knew about Lolla's habits; and yet she hated the very name of tattling. At last she did the wisest thing in her power. She asked advice. Meeting Sarah on the stairs, she repeated to her what she had heard, and what she herself knew, of Lolla's habits.

"Do you think I ought to tell Miss Delight?"

"Of course you ought to tell her," returned Sarah. "It might make all the difference in the world. Tell her directly; or, if you don't want to, I will."