Chapter 4: A Flower a Day Keeps a Smile on Your Face
"Bitty!" Mrs. Goodfellow shrieked, upon opening her daughter's bedroom door. The poor girl groaned and dug her head into the old feather pillow. Mrs. Goodfellow plowed up to her, shaking her. "It's time to get up to make first breakfast!"
"Mother, can I sleep through first breakfast?" Bitty's muffled voice asked. "I promise I will make second breakfast and boil afternoon tea."
Mrs. Goodfellow bent down to Bitty's ear, pinching it with her thumb and index finger. "If you don't get your louse hide from that bed, you won't be eating any breakfast."
Bitty clinched her teeth. She hated when her mother threatened her especially about food. It became very tiring. When threatened, Bitty usually took the consequences - an empty stomach. "You got me, mother. I'll be about in a few minutes."
"That's more like it" Mrs. Goodfellow murmured, paddling out the room. Bitty's fist slammed her pillow, thin black feathers shooting into the air from it's side.
Before long, Bitty was dressed and in the kitchen needing the dough for biscuits. She could hear her father cleaning in the washroom. Her mother was down the hall gathering dirty laundry from each room. Another day the same as always. She sighed, recalling the events of the day before…the wonderful time she would never have again. She needed the dough harder and twisted her mouth, mentally pained by that fact.
"Good morning, Bitty!"
Bitty jumped at the sunny voice. She stared out the open window in from of the kitchen counter straight into Merry Brandybuck's face. "Merry" she started, pushing a loose curl behind her pointed ear. "what are you doing here?" she asked, startled. Merry leaned against the window.
"I come to bid you a 'good morning' and give you this." He raised his hand to reveal a deep pink phlox flower. "For a new friend." He handed it to her. Bitty flushed crimson, and held up her hands.
"That is awfully kind of you. But, could you possibly leave it on the window sill? My hands are busy in dough."
"Oh, of course!"
"Who are you?" a crude voice shrieked through the kitchen. Bitty slumped. Too late to warn Merry to leave.
"I'm Merry Brandybuck" Merry stuttered out, taken aback by the lady's tone and awful glare.
"What is a Brandybuck doing here?" Mrs. Goodfellow stepped up to the window as Merry stepped back, stumbling on a bush.
"Admiring your daught…daisies in your garden" Merry replied with an uneasy smile.
"Well, we don't take kindly to folk just walking up unannounced. Be off with you!" Mrs. Goodfellow hurried to the door to shoo Merry away with her rag.
Bitty shook her head. Her mother could be a pain. She leaned over the counter, whispering to Merry, "Meet me in the woods by the pond. I'll bring biscuits."
Merry nodded before taking off toward the woods to escape Mrs. Goodfellow's wrath.
***
"Your mother is quite the sour puss" Merry commented, pouring honey over the warm biscuit.
"You do not have to inform me" Bitty replied, after swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. It was not polite to talk with your mouth full.
"I'm surprised she hasn't bitten your head off" Merry joked, grinning.
Bitty quirked an eyebrow at the remark, drowning Merry's light mood with her serious tone. "I've learned how to live with it."
There was a long pause then an innocently asked question, "Why do you stay?"
Bitty's biscuit stopped mid-way to her mouth. She'd never expected that Merry - a rich, probably educated hobbit - couldn't figure out such an obvious answer. "Because I have no place to go." Her eyes bore into him. "I do not know my relative well enough to go to them, and I am surely not going to Ted Sandyman. So, I have no place to go."
Merry frowned at her answer, disappointed by it. He had a fairly large immediate family and many other relatives sprawled out all over the Shire. He could not possibly imagine not having any place to go. He had no reply, but a soulless, "Oh."
After a while of awkward silence, at least for Merry it was, Bitty stood over him. Her basket in hand, the pink phlox sitting all alone in it atop a white napkin. "I need to get back to my home to start on second breakfast. My father will be expecting it after his morning walk in the garden."
Merry stood now beside her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I'll come see you when I can, if it's all right with you, Miss Bitty."
Bitty blushed, looking slightly downwards, but her eyes were bright. "Oh yes, it is awfully all right with me." She hoped she didn't sound too eager.
"Farewell, Bitty Goodfellow." Merry bowed, grasping her free hand and brushing a kiss on the back of it - making poor Bitty blush deeper.
The walk home was forgetful as Bitty's mind was elsewhere. She faltered between excitement and confusion because of the fact that Merry's actions toward her sparked queer emotions inside her. The normal parental bossing threw her from her thoughts of that and back to the work at hand. It wasn't until the next morning those emotions swelled into her mind again when she discovered another pink phlox, the same as yesterday, on her window sill waiting for her. Every morning there would be a flower waiting to greet her.
"Bitty!" Mrs. Goodfellow shrieked, upon opening her daughter's bedroom door. The poor girl groaned and dug her head into the old feather pillow. Mrs. Goodfellow plowed up to her, shaking her. "It's time to get up to make first breakfast!"
"Mother, can I sleep through first breakfast?" Bitty's muffled voice asked. "I promise I will make second breakfast and boil afternoon tea."
Mrs. Goodfellow bent down to Bitty's ear, pinching it with her thumb and index finger. "If you don't get your louse hide from that bed, you won't be eating any breakfast."
Bitty clinched her teeth. She hated when her mother threatened her especially about food. It became very tiring. When threatened, Bitty usually took the consequences - an empty stomach. "You got me, mother. I'll be about in a few minutes."
"That's more like it" Mrs. Goodfellow murmured, paddling out the room. Bitty's fist slammed her pillow, thin black feathers shooting into the air from it's side.
Before long, Bitty was dressed and in the kitchen needing the dough for biscuits. She could hear her father cleaning in the washroom. Her mother was down the hall gathering dirty laundry from each room. Another day the same as always. She sighed, recalling the events of the day before…the wonderful time she would never have again. She needed the dough harder and twisted her mouth, mentally pained by that fact.
"Good morning, Bitty!"
Bitty jumped at the sunny voice. She stared out the open window in from of the kitchen counter straight into Merry Brandybuck's face. "Merry" she started, pushing a loose curl behind her pointed ear. "what are you doing here?" she asked, startled. Merry leaned against the window.
"I come to bid you a 'good morning' and give you this." He raised his hand to reveal a deep pink phlox flower. "For a new friend." He handed it to her. Bitty flushed crimson, and held up her hands.
"That is awfully kind of you. But, could you possibly leave it on the window sill? My hands are busy in dough."
"Oh, of course!"
"Who are you?" a crude voice shrieked through the kitchen. Bitty slumped. Too late to warn Merry to leave.
"I'm Merry Brandybuck" Merry stuttered out, taken aback by the lady's tone and awful glare.
"What is a Brandybuck doing here?" Mrs. Goodfellow stepped up to the window as Merry stepped back, stumbling on a bush.
"Admiring your daught…daisies in your garden" Merry replied with an uneasy smile.
"Well, we don't take kindly to folk just walking up unannounced. Be off with you!" Mrs. Goodfellow hurried to the door to shoo Merry away with her rag.
Bitty shook her head. Her mother could be a pain. She leaned over the counter, whispering to Merry, "Meet me in the woods by the pond. I'll bring biscuits."
Merry nodded before taking off toward the woods to escape Mrs. Goodfellow's wrath.
***
"Your mother is quite the sour puss" Merry commented, pouring honey over the warm biscuit.
"You do not have to inform me" Bitty replied, after swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. It was not polite to talk with your mouth full.
"I'm surprised she hasn't bitten your head off" Merry joked, grinning.
Bitty quirked an eyebrow at the remark, drowning Merry's light mood with her serious tone. "I've learned how to live with it."
There was a long pause then an innocently asked question, "Why do you stay?"
Bitty's biscuit stopped mid-way to her mouth. She'd never expected that Merry - a rich, probably educated hobbit - couldn't figure out such an obvious answer. "Because I have no place to go." Her eyes bore into him. "I do not know my relative well enough to go to them, and I am surely not going to Ted Sandyman. So, I have no place to go."
Merry frowned at her answer, disappointed by it. He had a fairly large immediate family and many other relatives sprawled out all over the Shire. He could not possibly imagine not having any place to go. He had no reply, but a soulless, "Oh."
After a while of awkward silence, at least for Merry it was, Bitty stood over him. Her basket in hand, the pink phlox sitting all alone in it atop a white napkin. "I need to get back to my home to start on second breakfast. My father will be expecting it after his morning walk in the garden."
Merry stood now beside her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I'll come see you when I can, if it's all right with you, Miss Bitty."
Bitty blushed, looking slightly downwards, but her eyes were bright. "Oh yes, it is awfully all right with me." She hoped she didn't sound too eager.
"Farewell, Bitty Goodfellow." Merry bowed, grasping her free hand and brushing a kiss on the back of it - making poor Bitty blush deeper.
The walk home was forgetful as Bitty's mind was elsewhere. She faltered between excitement and confusion because of the fact that Merry's actions toward her sparked queer emotions inside her. The normal parental bossing threw her from her thoughts of that and back to the work at hand. It wasn't until the next morning those emotions swelled into her mind again when she discovered another pink phlox, the same as yesterday, on her window sill waiting for her. Every morning there would be a flower waiting to greet her.