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<= o:p>
Little Men: Life At Plumfield =
With
Jo's Boys
By
Louisa May Alcott
TO FREDDY AND JOHNNY, THE LITTLE MEN TO WHOM SHE OWES SOME OF THE BEST =
AND
HAPPIEST HOURS OF HER LIFE, THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> BY THEIR LOVING "AUNT WEEDY"
LITTLE MEN
Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys
=
span>
Contents
CHAPTER VIII PRANKS AND PLAYS.
CHAPTER XIV DAMON AND PYTHIAS.
"Please, sir, is this Plumfield?"
asked a ragged boy of the man who =
span>opened
the great gate at which the omnibus left him.
"Yes. Who sent you?"
"Mr. Laurence. I have got a letter for
the lady."
"All right; go up to the house, and g=
ive
it to her; she'll see to you, little
chap."
The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went=
on,
feeling much cheered by the w=
ords.
Through the soft spring rain that fell on&=
nbsp;
sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house before him a hospitable-looking ho=
use,
with an old-fashioned porch, =
wide
steps, and lights shining in many windows. Neither curtains nor shutters hid the chee=
rful
glimmer; and, pausing a moment
before he rang, Nat saw many little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant hum =
of
young voices, and felt that it was
hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within could be for a homeless "litt=
le
chap" like him.
"I hope the lady will see to me,"=
; he
thought, and gave a timid rap with
the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin's head.
A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door,=
and
smiled as she took the letter=
which
he silently offered. She seemed used to receiving strange boys, for she pointed to a=
seat
in the hall, and said, with a nod:
"Sit there and drip on the mat a bit,
while I take this in to missis."
Nat found plenty to amuse him while he wai=
ted,
and stared about him curiousl=
y,
enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the dusky recess by the door.
The house seemed swarming with boys, who w=
ere
beguiling the rainy twilight =
with
all sorts of amusements. There were boys&n=
bsp;
everywhere, "up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady's
chamber," apparently, for
various open doors showed pleasant groups of big boys, little boys, and middle-size=
d boys
in all stages of evening rela=
xation,
not to say effervescence. Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms, for de=
sks,
maps, blackboards, and books =
were
scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their=
backs
before it, discussing a new c=
ricket-ground,
with such animation that their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was practising o=
n the
flute in one corner, quite un=
disturbed
by the racket all about him. Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, n=
ow and
then, to get their breath and=
laugh
at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboar=
d.
In the room on the left a long supper-table
was seen, set forth with great
pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny ginger=
bread
so dear to boyish souls. A fl=
avor
of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing to one hungry lit=
tle
nose and stomach.
The hall, however, presented the most invi=
ting
prospect of all, for a brisk =
game
of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing was devoted to marbles, the other =
to
checkers, while the stairs we=
re
occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two puppies, a kitten, and a const=
ant
succession of small boys slid=
ing
down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to their limbs.
So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting
race, that he ventured farthe=
r and
farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy came down so swiftly that he could=
not
stop himself, but fell off the
banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one rendered nearly as hard as a
cannon-ball by eleven years of constant
bumping, Nat forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen rider, expecting to find him half-=
dead.
The boy, however, only winked
rapidly for a second, then lay calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised,
"Hullo!"
"Hullo!" returned Nat, not knowi=
ng
what else to say, and thinking that
form of reply both brief and easy.
"Are you a new boy?" asked the
recumbent youth, without stirring.
"Don't know yet."
"What's your name?"
"Nat Blake."
"Mine's Tommy Bangs. Come up and have=
a
go, will you?" and Tommy=
got
upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties of hospitality.
"Guess I won't, till I see whether I'm
going to stay or not," returned
Nat, feeling the desire to stay increase every moment.
"I say, Demi, here's a new one. Come =
and
see to him;" and the liv=
ely
Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.
At his call, the boy reading on the stairs
looked up with a pair of big =
brown
eyes, and after an instant's pause, as if a little shy, he put the book under his arm, and came s=
oberly
down to greet the new-comer, =
who
found something very attractive in the pleasant face of this slender, mild-eyed bo=
y.
"Have you seen Aunt Jo?" he aske=
d,
as if that was some sort of i=
mportant
ceremony.
"I haven't seen anybody yet but you b=
oys;
I'm waiting," answered N=
at.
"Did Uncle Laurie send you?"
proceeded Demi, politely, but gravely.
"Mr. Laurence did."
"He is Uncle Laurie; and he always se=
nds
nice boys."
Nat looked gratified at the remark, and
smiled, in a way that made hi=
s thin
face very pleasant. He did not know what to say next, so the two stood staring at one anoth=
er in
friendly silence, till the li=
ttle
girl came up with her doll in her arms. She was very like Demi, only not so tall, and had a
rounder, rosier face, and blue eyes.
"This is my sister, Daisy,"
announced Demi, as if presenting a rare&nb=
sp;
and precious creature.
The children nodded to one another; and the
little girl's face dimpled wi=
th
pleasure, as she said affably:
"I hope you'll stay. We have such good
times here; don't we, Demi?&q=
uot;
"Of course, we do: that's what Aunt Jo
has Plumfield for."
"It seems a very nice place indeed,&q=
uot;
observed Nat, feeling that he must
respond to these amiable young persons.
"It's the nicest place in the world,
isn't it, Demi?" said Daisy, who
evidently regarded her brother as authority on all subjects.
"No, I think Greenland, where the ice=
bergs
and seals are, is more intere=
sting.
But I'm fond of Plumfield, and it is a very nice place to be in," returned Demi, who was
interested just now in a book on Greenland.
He was about to offer to show Nat the pictures and explain them, when the servant ret=
urned,
saying with a nod toward the
parlor-door:
"All right; you are to stop."
"I'm glad; now come to Aunt Jo."=
And
Daisy took him by the hand wi=
th a
pretty protecting air, which made Nat feel at home at once.
Demi returned to his beloved book, while h= is sister led the new-comer into= a back room, where a stout gentleman was&nbs= p; frolicking with two little boys on the sofa, and a thin lady was jus= t finishing the letter which she see= med to have been re-reading. <= o:p>
"Here he is, aunty!" cried Daisy=
.
"So this is my new boy? I am glad to =
see
you, my dear, and hope you'll=
be
happy here," said the lady, drawing him to her, and stroking back the hair from his fo=
rehead
with a kind hand and a mother=
ly
look, which made Nat's lonely little heart yearn toward her.
She was not at all handsome, but she had a
merry sort of face that never
seemed to have forgotten certain childish ways and looks, any more than her voice and manner=
had;
and these things, hard to des=
cribe
but very plain to see and feel, made her a genial, comfortable kind of person, easy t=
o get
on with, and generally "=
jolly,"
as boys would say. She saw the little tremble of Nat's lips as she smoothed his hair, and her =
keen
eyes grew softer, but she onl=
y drew
the shabby figure nearer and said, laughing:
"I am Mother Bhaer, that gentleman is
Father Bhaer, and these are t=
he two
little Bhaers. Come here, boys, and see Nat."
The three wrestlers obeyed at once; and the
stout man, with a chubby chil=
d on
each shoulder, came up to welcome the new boy. Rob and Teddy merely grinned at hi=
m, but
Mr. Bhaer shook hands, and po=
inting
to a low chair near the fire, said, in a cordial voice:
"There is a place all ready for thee,=
my
son; sit down and dry thy wet=
feet
at once."
"Wet? So they are! My dear, off with =
your
shoes this minute, and I'll h=
ave
some dry things ready for you in a jiffy," cried Mrs. Bhaer, bustling about so energetically th=
at Nat
found himself in the cosy lit=
tle
chair, with dry socks and warm slippers on his feet, before he would have had time to say Jack
Robinson, if he had wanted to try. <=
/span>He
said "Thank you, ma'am," instead; and said it so gratefully that<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Mrs. Bhaer's eyes grew soft again,=
and
she said something merry, bec=
ause
she felt so tender, which was a way she had.
"There are Tommy Bangs' slippers; but=
he
never will remember to put th=
em on
in the house; so he shall not have them. They are too big; but that's all the better; you
can't run away from us so fast as if
they fitted."
"I don't want to run away, ma'am.&quo=
t;
And Nat spread his grimy little hands
before the comfortable blaze, with a long sigh of satisfaction.
"That's good! Now I am going to toast=
you
well, and try to get rid of t=
hat
ugly cough. How long have you had it, dear?" asked Mrs. Bhaer, as she rummaged in her big =
basket
for a strip of flannel.
"All winter. I got cold, and it would=
n't
get better, somehow."
"No wonder, living in that damp cellar
with hardly a rag to his poor=
dear
back!" said Mrs. Bhaer, in a low tone to her husband, who was looking at the boy with a
skillful pair of eyes that marked =
span>the
thin temples and feverish lips, as well as the hoarse voice and frequent fits of coughing that sho=
ok the
bent shoulders under the patc=
hed
jacket.
"Robin, my man, trot up to Nursey, and
tell her to give thee the cou=
gh-bottle
and the liniment," said Mr. Bhaer, after his eyes had exchanged telegrams with his wife'=
s.
Nat looked a little anxious at the
preparations, but forgot his fears <=
/span>in
a hearty laugh, when Mrs. Bhaer whispered to him, with a droll look:
"Hear my rogue Teddy try to cough. The
syrup I'm going to give you h=
as
honey in it; and he wants some."
Little Ted was red in the face with his
exertions by the time the bot=
tle
came, and was allowed to suck the spoon after Nat had manfully taken a dose and had the =
bit of
flannel put about his throat.=
These first steps toward a cure were hardly
completed when a great bell r=
ang,
and a loud tramping through the hall announced supper. Bashful Nat quaked at the
thought of meeting many stran=
ge
boys, but Mrs. Bhaer held out her hand to him, and Rob said, patronizingly, "Don't be
'fraid; I'll take care of you."
Twelve boys, six on a side, stood behind t=
heir
chairs, prancing with impatie=
nce to
begin, while the tall flute-playing youth was trying to curb their ardor. But no=
one
sat down till Mrs. Bhaer was =
in her
place behind the teapot, with Teddy on her left, and Nat on her right.
"This is our new boy, Nat Blake. After
supper you can say how do you=
do?
Gently, boys, gently." =
span>
As she spoke every one stared at Nat, and =
then
whisked into their seats, try=
ing to
be orderly and failing utterly. The Bhaers did their best to have the lads behave well =
at
meal times, and generally suc=
ceeded
pretty well, for their rules were few and sensible, and the boys, knowing that they tried =
to
make things easy and happy, d=
id
their best to obey. But there are times when hungry boys cannot be repressed without real
cruelty, and Saturday evening, after
a half-holiday, was one of those times.
"Dear little souls, do let them have =
one
day in which they can howl and
racket and frolic to their hearts' content. A holiday isn't a holiday without plenty of freedom =
and
fun; and they shall have full swing
once a week," Mrs. Bhaer used to say, when prim people wondered why banister-sliding,
pillow-fights, and all manner of jovial
games were allowed under the once decorous roof of Plumfield.
It did seem at times as if the aforesaid r=
oof
was in danger of flying off, =
but it
never did, for a word from Father Bhaer could at any time produce a lull, and the lads =
had
learned that liberty must not be
abused. So, in spite of many dark predictions, the school flourished, and manners and morals=
were
insinuated, without the pupils
exactly knowing how it was done.
Nat found himself very well off behind the
tall pitchers, with Tommy Ban=
gs
just around the corner, and Mrs. Bhaer close by to fill up plate and mug as fast as he
could empty them.
"Who is that boy next the girl down at
the other end?" whispered Nat
to his young neighbor under cover of a general laugh.
"That's Demi Brooke. Mr. Bhaer is his
uncle."
"What a queer name!"
"His real name is John, but they call=
him
Demi-John, because his father=
is
John too. That's a joke, don't you see?" said Tommy, kindly explaining. Nat did not see=
, but
politely smiled, and asked, w=
ith
interest :
"Isn't he a very nice boy?"
"I bet you he is; knows lots and reads like any thing." <= o:p>
"Who is the fat one next him?" <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Oh, that's Stuffy Cole. His name is
George, but we call him Stuffy 'cause
he eats so much. The little fellow next Father Bhaer is his boy Rob, and then there's big Fran=
z his
nephew; he teaches some, and =
kind
of sees to us."
"He plays the flute, doesn't he?"
asked Nat as Tommy rendered h=
imself
speechless by putting a whole baked apple into his mouth at one blow.
Tommy nodded, and said, sooner than one wo=
uld
have imagined possible under =
the
circumstances, "Oh, don't he, though? And we dance sometimes, and do gymnastics=
to
music. I like a drum myself, =
and
mean to learn as soon as ever I can."
"I like a fiddle best; I can play one
too," said Nat, getting =
confidential
on this attractive subject. =
span>
"Can you?" and Tommy stared over=
the
rim of his mug with round eye=
s,
full of interest. "Mr. Bhaer's got an old fiddle, and he'll let you play on it if you want to.&quo=
t;
"Could I? Oh, I would like it ever so
much. You see, I used to go r=
ound
fiddling with my father, and another man, till he died."
"Wasn't that fun?" cried Tommy, =
much
impressed.
"No, it was horrid; so cold in winter,
and hot in summer. And I got =
tired;
and they were cross sometimes; and I didn't get enough to eat." Nat paused to take a ge=
nerous
bite of gingerbread, as if to assure
himself that the hard times were over; and then he added regretfully: "But I did love =
my
little fiddle, and I miss it. Nicolo
took it away when father died, and wouldn't have me any longer, 'cause I was sick."
"You'll belong to the band if you play
good. See if you don't."
"Do you have a band here?" Nat's eyes sparkled.
"Guess we do; a jolly band, all boys;=
and
they have concerts and things=
. You
just see what happens to-morrow night."
After this pleasantly exciting remark, Tom=
my
returned to his supper, and N=
at
sank into a blissful reverie over his full plate.
Mrs. Bhaer had heard all they said, while
apparently absorbed in filling
mugs, and overseeing little Ted, who was so sleepy that he put his spoon in his eye, nodded l=
ike a
rosy poppy, and finally fell =
fast
asleep, with his cheek pillowed on a soft bun. Mrs. Bhaer had put Nat next to Tommy, because that
roly-poly boy had a frank and social
way with him, very attractive to shy persons. Nat felt this, and had made several small confide=
nces
during supper, which gave Mrs.
Bhaer the key to the new boy's character, better than if she had talked to him herself.
In the letter which Mr. Laurence had sent =
with
Nat, he had said:
"DEAR JO: Here is a case after your o=
wn
heart. This poor lad is an or=
phan
now, sick and friendless. He has been a street-musician; and I found him in a cellar, mourn=
ing
for his dead father, and his =
lost
violin. I think there is something in him, and have a fancy that between us we may give this little=
man a
lift. You cure his overtasked=
body,
Fritz help his neglected mind, and when he is ready I'll see if he is a genius o=
r only
a boy with a talent which may earn
his bread for him. Give him a trial, for the sake of your own boy,
TEDDY."
"Of course we will!" crie=
d Mrs.
Bhaer, as she read the letter; and <=
/span>when
she saw Nat she felt at once that, whether he was a genius or not, here was a lonely, sick boy w=
ho
needed just what she loved to give,
a home and motherly care. Both she and Mr. Bhaer observed him quietly; and in spite of ragged
clothes, awkward manners, and a
dirty face, they saw much about Nat that pleased them. He was a thin, pale boy, of twelve, with bl=
ue
eyes, and a good forehead und=
er the
rough, neglected hair; an anxious, scared face, at times, as if he expected hard words, or b=
lows;
and a sensitive mouth that tr=
embled
when a kind glance fell on him; while a gentle speech called up a look of gratitude, very
sweet to see. "Bless the poor <=
/span>dear,
he shall fiddle all day long if he likes," said Mrs. Bhaer to herself, as she saw the eager, hap=
py
expression on his face when T=
ommy
talked of the band.
So, after supper, when the lads flocked in=
to
the schoolroom for more "=
;high
jinks," Mrs. Jo appeared with a violin in her hand, and after a word with her husband, wen=
t to
Nat, who sat in a corner watc=
hing
the scene with intense interest.
"Now, my lad, give us a little tune. =
We
want a violin in our band, an=
d I
think you will do it nicely."
She expected that he would hesitate; but he
seized the old fiddle at once=
, and
handled it with such loving care, it was plain to see that music was his passion.
"I'll do the best I can, ma'am,"=
was
all he said; and then drew the bow across
the strings, as if eager to hear the dear notes again.
There was a great clatter in the room, but=
as
if deaf to any sounds but tho=
se he
made, Nat played softly to himself, forgetting every thing in his delight. It was only a
simple Negro melody, such as =
street-musicians
play, but it caught the ears of the boys at once, and silenced them, till they stood
listening with surprise and p=
leasure.
Gradually they got nearer and nearer, and Mr. Bhaer came up to watch the boy; for, as =
if he
was in his element now, Nat p=
layed
away and never minded any one, while his eyes shone, his cheeks reddened, and his thin
fingers flew, as he hugged the old
fiddle and made it speak to all their hearts the language that he loved.
A hearty round of applause rewarded him be=
tter
than a shower of pennies, whe=
n he
stopped and glanced about him, as if to say:
"I've done my best; please like it.&q=
uot;
"I say, you do that first rate,"
cried Tommy, who considered Nat his
prot‚g‚.
"You shall be the first fiddle in my
band," added Franz, with an approving
smile.
Mrs. Bhaer whispered to her husband:
"Teddy is right: there's something in=
the
child." And Mr. Bhaer no=
dded
his head emphatically, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder, saying, heartily:
"You play well, my son. Come now and =
play
something which we can sing.&=
quot;
It was the proudest, happiest minute of the
poor boy's life when he was l=
ed to
the place of honor by the piano, and the lads gathered round, never heeding his poor clot=
hes,
but eying him respectfully and
waiting eagerly to hear him play again.
They chose a song he knew; and after one or
two false starts they got goi=
ng,
and violin, flute, and piano led a chorus of boyish voices that made the old roof ring again.=
It
was too much for Nat, more fe=
eble
than he knew; and as the final shout died away, his face began to work, he dropped the fidd=
le,
and turning to the wall sobbe=
d like
a little child.
"My dear, what is it?" asked Mrs.
Bhaer, who had been singing w=
ith
all her might, and trying to keep little Rob from beating time with his boots.
"You are all so kind and it's so
beautiful I can't help it," sobbed&nb=
sp;
Nat, coughing till he was breathless.
"Come with me, dear; you must go to b=
ed
and rest; you are worn out, a=
nd
this is too noisy a place for you," whispered Mrs. Bhaer; and took him away to her own parlo=
r,
where she let him cry himself
quiet.
Then she won him to tell her all his troub=
les,
and listened to the little st=
ory
with tears in her own eyes, though it was not a new one to her.
"My child, you have got a father and a
mother now, and this is home.=
Don't
think of those sad times any more, but get well and happy; and be sure you shall never
suffer again, if we can help it. This
place is made for all sorts of boys to have a good time in, and to learn how to help themselves an=
d be
useful men, I hope. You shall=
have
as much music as you want, only you must get strong first. Now come up to Nursey and h=
ave a
bath, and then go to bed, and
to-morrow we will lay some nice little plans together."
Nat held her hand fast in his, but had not=
a
word to say, and let his grat=
eful
eyes speak for him, as Mrs. Bhaer led him up to a big room, where they found a stout Ger=
man
woman with a face so round an=
d cheery
that it looked like a sort of sun, with the wide frill of her cap for rays.
"This is Nursey Hummel, and she will =
give
you a nice bath, and cut your=
hair,
and make you all 'comfy,' as Rob says. That's the bath-room in there; and on Saturday
nights we scrub all the little lads
first, and pack them away in bed before the big ones get through singing. Now then, Rob, in=
with
you."
As she talked, Mrs. Bhaer had whipped off
Rob's clothes and popped him =
into a
long bath-tub in the little room opening into the nursery.
There were two tubs, besides foot-baths,
basins, douche-pipes, and all
manner of contrivances for cleanliness. Nat was soon luxuriating in the other bath; and=
while
simmering there, he watched t=
he
performances of the two women, who scrubbed, clean night-gowned, and bundled into bed=
four
or five small boys, who, of c=
ourse,
cut up all sorts of capers during the operation, and kept every one in a gale of merriment t=
ill
they were extinguished in the=
ir
beds.
By the time Nat was washed and done up in a
blanket by the fire, while Nu=
rsey
cut his hair, a new detachment of boys arrived and were shut into the bath-room, wher=
e they
made as much splashing and no=
ise as
a school of young whales at play.
"Nat had better sleep here, so that if
his cough troubles him in the night
you can see that he takes a good draught of flax-seed tea," said Mrs. Bhaer, who was flying ab=
out
like a distracted hen with a =
large
brood of lively ducklings.
Nursey approved the plan, finished Nat off
with a flannel night-gown, a =
drink
of something warm and sweet, and then
tucked him into one of the three little beds standing in the room, where he lay looking like a conten=
ted
mummy and feeling that nothin=
g more
in the way of luxury could be offered him.=
Cleanliness in itself was a new and delightful sensation; flannel
A momentary lull in the aquatic exercises =
was
followed by the sudden appear=
ance
of pillows flying in all directions, hurled by white goblins, who came rioting ou=
t of
their beds. The battle raged =
in
several rooms, all down the upper hall, and even surged at intervals into the nursery, when s=
ome
hard-pressed warrior took ref=
uge
there. No one seemed to mind this explosion in the least; no one forbade it, or even looked
surprised. Nursey went on hanging =
span>up
towels, and Mrs. Bhaer laid out clean clothes, as calmly as if the most perfect order reigned. Na=
y, she
even chased one daring boy ou=
t of
the room, and fired after him the pillow he had slyly thrown at her.
"Won't they hurt 'em?" asked Nat,
who lay laughing with all his might.
"Oh dear, no! We always allow one
pillow-fight Saturday night. =
The
cases are changed to-morrow; and it gets up a glow after the boys' baths; so I rather like it
myself," said Mrs. Bhaer, busy again&=
nbsp;
among her dozen pairs of socks.
"What a very nice school this is!&quo=
t;
observed Nat, in a burst of a=
dmiration.
"It's an odd one," laughed Mrs.
Bhaer, "but you see we don't =
span>believe
in making children miserable by too many rules, and too much study. I forbade night-gown p=
arties
at first; but, bless you, it =
was of
no use. I could no more keep those boys in their beds than so many jacks in the box. So I mad=
e an
agreement with them: I was to=
allow
a fifteen-minute pillow-fight every Saturday night; and they promised to go properly t=
o bed
every other night. I tried it=
, and
it worked well. If they don't keep their word, no frolic; if they do, I just turn the glasses r=
ound,
put the lamps in safe places, and
let them rampage as much as they like."
"It's a beautiful plan," said Na=
t,
feeling that he should like to join
in the fray, but not venturing to propose it the first night. So he =
lay enjoying the spectacle, which cert=
ainly
was a lively one.
Tommy Bangs led the assailing party, and D=
emi
defended his own room with a =
dogged
courage fine to see, collecting pillows behind him as fast as they were thrown, t=
ill
the besiegers were out of amm=
unition,
when they would charge upon him in a body, and recover their arms. A few slight
accidents occurred, but nobody minded,
and gave and took sounding thwacks with perfect good humor, while pillows flew like big
snowflakes, till Mrs. Bhaer l=
ooked
at her watch, and called out:
"Time is up, boys. Into bed, every man
jack, or pay the forfeit!"
"What is the forfeit?" asked Nat,
sitting up in his eagerness to know
what happened to those wretches who disobeyed this most peculiar, but public-spirited
school-ma'am.
"Lose their fun next time," answ=
ered
Mrs. Bhaer. "I give them five <=
/span>minutes
to settle down, then put out the lights, and expect order. They are honorable lads, and they =
keep
their word."
That was evident, for the battle ended as
abruptly as it began a partin=
g shot
or two, a final cheer, as Demi fired the seventh pillow at the retiring foe, a few challen=
ges
for next time, then order pre=
vailed.
And nothing but an occasional giggle or a suppressed whisper broke the quiet which foll=
owed
the Saturday-night frolic, as=
Mother
Bhaer kissed her new boy and left him to happy dreams of life at Plumfield.
While Nat takes a good long sleep, I will =
tell
my little readers something a=
bout
the boys, among whom he found himself when he woke up.
To begin with our old friends. Franz was a
tall lad, of sixteen now, a r=
egular
German, big, blond, and bookish, also very domestic, amiable, and musical. His uncle was
fitting him for college, and =
his
aunt for a happy home of his own hereafter, because she carefully fostered in him gentle ma=
nners,
love of children, respect for
women, old and young, and helpful ways about the house. He was her right-hand man on all occa=
sions,
steady, kind, and patient; an=
d he
loved his merry aunt like a mother, for such she had tried to be to him.
Emil was quite different, being
quick-tempered, restless, and enterprising,
bent on going to sea, for the blood of the old vikings stirred in his veins, and could no=
t be
tamed. His uncle promised tha=
t he
should go when he was sixteen, and set him to studying navigation, gave him stories of go=
od and
famous admirals and heroes to=
read,
and let him lead the life of a frog in river, pond, and brook, when lessons were done.=
His
room looked like the cabin of=
a
man-of-war, for every thing was nautical, military, and shipshape. Captain Kyd was his del=
ight,
and his favorite amusement wa=
s to
rig up like that piratical gentleman, and roar out sanguinary sea-songs at the top of=
his
voice. He would dance nothing=
but
sailors' hornpipes, rolled in his gait, and was as nautical in conversation to his un=
cle
would permit. The boys called him
"Commodore," and took great pride in his fleet, which whitened the pond and suffered dis=
asters
that would have daunted any
commander but a sea-struck boy.
Demi was one of the children who show plai=
nly
the effect of intelligent lov=
e and
care, for soul and body worked harmoniously together. The natural refinement w=
hich
nothing but home influence can
teach, gave him sweet and simple manners: his mother had cherished an innocent a=
nd
loving heart in him; his fath=
er had
watched over the physical growth of his boy, and kept the little body straight and stron=
g on
wholesome food and exercise a=
nd
sleep, while Grandpa March cultivated the little mind with the tender wisdom of a modern Pythagor=
as,
not tasking it with long, hard
lessons, parrot-learned, but helping it to unfold as naturally and beautifully as sun and dew help
roses bloom. He was not a per=
fect
child, by any means, but his faults were of the better sort; and being early taught the secret =
of
self-control, he was not left at the
mercy of appetites and passions, as some poor little mortals are, and then punished for yieldin=
g to
the temptations against which=
they
have no armor. A quiet, quaint boy was Demi, serious, yet cheery, quite unconscious that=
he
was unusually bright and beau=
tiful,
yet quick to see and love intelligence or beauty in other children. Very fond of books, and =
full
of lively fancies, born of a =
strong
imagination and a spiritual nature, these traits made his parents anxious to balance them wi=
th
useful knowledge and healthful
society, lest they should make him one of those pale precocious children who amaze and
delight a family sometimes, a=
nd
fade away like hot-house flowers, because the young soul blooms too soon, and has not a hea=
rty
body to root it firmly in the wholesome
soil of this world.
So Demi was transplanted to Plumfield, and
took so kindly to the life th=
ere,
that Meg and John and Grandpa felt satisfied that they had done well. Mixing with other b=
oys
brought out the practical sid=
e of
him, roused his spirit, and brushed away the pretty cobwebs he was so fond of spinning in that
little brain of his. To be sure, he
rather shocked his mother when he came home, by banging doors, saying "by George"
emphatically, and demanding tall thick boots "that clumped like papa's.&qu=
ot;
But John rejoiced over him, laughed at&nbs=
p;
his explosive remarks, got the boots, and said contentedly,
"He is doing well; so let him clump. I
want my son to be a manly boy=
, and
this temporary roughness won't hurt him. We can polish him up by and by; and as for learn=
ing,
he will pick that up as pigeo=
ns do
peas. So don't hurry him."
Daisy was as sunshiny and charming as ever,
with all sorts of womanliness=
es
budding in her, for she was like her gentle mother, and delighted in domestic things. =
She
had a family of dolls, whom s=
he
brought up in the most exemplary manner; she could not get on without her little work-basket =
and
bits of sewing, which she did so
nicely, that Demi frequently pulled out his handkerchief display her neat stitches, and Baby Josy h=
ad a
flannel petticoat beautifully made
by Sister Daisy. She like to quiddle about the china-closet, prepare the salt-cellars, put the =
spoons
straight on the table; and ev=
ery
day went round the parlor with her brush, dusting chairs and tables. Demi called her a
"Betty," but was very glad to have her keep his things in order, lend him=
her
nimble fingers in all sorts of work,
and help him with his lessons, for they kept abreast there, and had no thought of rivalry.
The love between them was as strong as eve=
r;
and no one could laugh Demi o=
ut of
his affectionate ways with Daisy. He fought her battles valiantly, and never could
understand why boys should be ashamed
to say "right out," that they loved their sisters. Daisy adored her twin, thought "my
brother" the most remarkable boy in&n=
bsp;
the world, and every morning, in her little wrapper, trotted to tap =
at his door with a motherly "Get=
up,
my dear, it's 'most breakfast time;
and here's your clean collar."
Rob was an energetic morsel of a boy, who
seemed to have discovered the
secret of perpetual motion, for he never was still. Fortunately, he was not mischievou=
s, nor
very brave; so he kept out of
trouble pretty well, and vibrated between father and mother like an affectionate little pendul=
um
with a lively tick, for Rob was a
chatterbox.
Teddy was too young to play a very importa=
nt
part in the affairs of Plumfi=
eld,
yet he had his little sphere, and filled it beautifully. Every one felt the need of a pet at
times, and Baby was always re=
ady to
accommodate, for kissing and cuddling suited him excellently. Mrs. Jo seldom stirred
without him; so he had his little =
span>finger
in all the domestic pies, and every one found them all the better for it, for they believed in
babies at Plumfield.
Dick Brown, and Adolphus or Dolly Pettingi=
ll,
were two eight year-olds. Dol=
ly
stuttered badly, but was gradually getting over it, for no one was allowed to mock him=
and
Mr. Bhaer tried to cure it, by
making him talk slowly. Dolly was a good little lad, quite uninteresting and ordinary, but he
flourished here, and went thr=
ough
his daily duties and pleasures with placid content and propriety.
Dick Brown's affliction was a crooked back,
yet he bore his burden so
cheerfully, that Demi once asked in his queer way, "Do humps make people good-natured? I'd like=
one
if they do." Dick was al=
ways
merry, and did his best to be like other boys, for a plucky spirit lived in the feeble little =
body.
When he first came, he was ve=
ry
sensitive about his misfortune, but soon learned to forget it, for no one dared remind him of it,=
after
Mr. Bhaer had punished one bo=
y for
laughing at him.
"God don't care; for my soul is strai=
ght
if my back isn't," sobbed Dick
to his tormentor on that occasion; and, by cherishing this idea, the Bhaers soon led him to b=
elieve
that people also loved his so=
ul,
and did not mind his body, except to pity and help him to bear it.
Playing menagerie once with the others, so=
me
one said,
"What animal will you be, Dick?"=
"Oh, I'm the dromedary; don't you see=
the
hump on my back?" was the
laughing answer.
"So you are, my nice little one that
don't carry loads, but marches by
the elephant first in the procession," said Demi, who was arranging the spectacle.
"I hope others will be as kind to the
poor dear as my boys have lea=
rned
to be," said Mrs. Jo, quite satisfied with the success of her teaching, as Dick ambled past her,
looking like a very happy, but a very
feeble little dromedary, beside stout Stuffy, who did the elephant with ponderous propriety.=
Jack Ford was a sharp, rather a sly lad, w=
ho
was sent to this school, beca=
use it
was cheap. Many men would have thought him a smart boy, but Mr. Bhaer did not like hi=
s way
of illustrating that Yankee w=
ord,
and thought his unboyish keenness and money-loving as much of an affliction as Dolly's
stutter, or Dick's hump.
Ned Barker was like a thousand other boys =
of
fourteen, all legs, blunder, =
and
bluster. Indeed the family called him the&=
nbsp;
"Blunderbuss," and always expected to see him tumble over =
the chairs, bump against the tables, a=
nd
knock down any small articles near
him. He bragged a good deal about what he could do, but seldom did any thing to prove it, =
was
not brave, and a little given to
tale-telling. He was apt to bully the small boys, and flatter the big ones, and without being at all=
bad,
was just the sort of fellow w=
ho
could very easily be led astray.
George Cole had been spoilt by an
over-indulgent mother, who st=
uffed
him with sweetmeats till he was sick, and then thought him too delicate to study, so that at =
twelve
years old, he was a pale, puf=
fy
boy, dull, fretful, and lazy. A friend persuaded her to send him to Plumfield, and there he soo=
n got
waked up, for sweet things we=
re
seldom allowed, much exercise required, and study made so pleasant, that Stuffy was gently l=
ured
along, till he quite amazed h=
is
anxious mamma by his improvement, and convinced her that there was really something remarka=
ble in
Plumfield air.
Billy Ward was what the Scotch tenderly ca=
ll
an "innocent," for =
though
thirteen years old, he was like a child of six. He had been an unusually intelligent boy, and =
his
father had hurried him on too fast,
giving him all sorts of hard lessons, keeping at his books six hours a day, and expecting him to =
absorb
knowledge as a Strasburg goos=
e does
the food crammed down its throat. He thought he was doing his duty, but he nearly kill=
ed the
boy, for a fever gave the poor
child a sad holiday, and when he recovered, the overtasked brain gave out, and Billy's mind w=
as
like a slate over which a spo=
nge
has passed, leaving it blank.
It was a terrible lesson to his ambitious
father; he could not bear the=
sight
of his promising child, changed to a feeble idiot, and he sent him away to Plumfield, scarce=
ly
hoping that he could be helpe=
d, but
sure that he would be kindly treated. Quite docile and harmless was Billy, and it was pit=
iful
to see how hard he tried to l=
earn,
as if groping dimly after the lost knowledge which had cost him so much.
Day after day, he pored over the alphabet,
proudly said A and B, and tho=
ught
that he knew them, but on the morrow they were gone, and all the work was to be done ov=
er
again. Mr. Bhaer had infinite patience
with him, and kept on in spite of the apparent hopelessness of the task, not cari=
ng for
book lessons, but trying gent=
ly to
clear away the mists from the darkened mind, and give it back intelligence enough to make t=
he boy
less a burden and an afflicti=
on.
Mrs. Bhaer strengthened his health by every
aid she could invent, and the=
boys
all pitied and were kind to him. He did not like their active plays, but would sit for ho=
urs
watching the doves, would dig holes
for Teddy till even that ardent grubber was satisfied, or follow Silas, the man, from place =
to
place seeing him work, for ho=
nest
Si was very good to him, and though he forgot his letters Billy remembered friendly faces. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
Tommy Bangs was the scapegrace of the scho=
ol,
and the most trying scapegrac=
e that
ever lived. As full of mischief as a monkey, yet so good-hearted that one could=
not
help forgiving his tricks; so scatter-brained
that words went by him like the wind, yet so penitent for every misdeed, that i=
t was
impossible to keep sober when=
he
vowed tremendous vows of reformation, or proposed all sorts of queer punishments to be
inflicted upon himself. Mr. and Mrs.
Bhaer lived in a state of preparation for any mishap, from the breaking of Tommy's own neck, to t=
he
blowing up of the entire fami=
ly
with gunpowder; and Nursey had a particular drawer in which she kept bandages, plasters,=
and
salves for his especial use, =
for
Tommy was always being brought in half dead; but nothing ever killed him, and he arose from=
every
downfall with redoubled vigor=
.
The first day he came, he chopped the top =
off
one finger in the hay-cutter,=
and
during the week, fell from the shed roof, was chased by an angry hen who tried t=
o pick
his out because he examined h=
er
chickens, got run away with, and had his ears boxed violent by Asia, who caught him
luxuriously skimming a pan of cream
with half a stolen pie. Undaunted, however, by any failures or rebuffs, this indomitable youth=
went
on amusing himself with all s=
orts
of tricks till no one felt safe. If he did not know his lessons, he always had some droll =
excuse
to offer, and as he was usual=
ly
clever at his books, and as bright as a button in composing answers when he did not know them,=
he go
on pretty well at school. But=
out
of school, Ye gods and little fishes! how Tommy did carouse!
He wound fat Asia up in her own clothes li=
ne
against the post, and left he=
re
there to fume and scold for half an hour one busy Monday morning. He dropped a hot cent dow=
n Mary
Ann's back as that pretty mai=
d was
waiting at table one day when there were&n=
bsp;
gentlemen to dinner, whereat the poor girl upset the soup and rushed out of the room in dismay,
leaving the family to think that she
had gone mad. He fixed a pail of water up in a tree, with a bit of ribbon fastened to the handle, =
and
when Daisy, attracted by the =
gay
streamer, tried to pull it down, she got a douche bath that spoiled her clean frock and hurt h=
er
little feelings very much. He put
rough white pebbles in the sugar-bowl when his grandmother came to tea, and the poor old lady
wondered why they didn't melt in
her cup, but was too polite to say anything. He passed around snuff in church so that five of th=
e boys
sneezed with such violence th=
ey had
to go out. He dug paths in winter time, and then privately watered them so that people should
tumble down. He drove poor Si=
las
nearly wild by hanging his big boots in conspicuous places, for his feet were enormous, and he=
was
very much ashamed of them. He
persuaded confiding little Dolly to tie a thread to one of his loose teeth, and leave the str=
ing
hanging from his mouth when h=
e went
to sleep, so that Tommy could pull it out without his feeling the dreaded operation. But=
the
tooth wouldn't come at the fi=
rst
tweak, and poor Dolly woke up in great anguish of spirit, and lost all faith in Tommy from that =
day
forth.
The last prank had been to give the hens b=
read
soaked in rum, which made them
tipsy and scandalized all the other fowls, for the respectable old biddies went stagg=
ering
about, pecking and clucking i=
n the
most maudlin manner, while the family were=
convulsed with laughter at their antics, till Daisy took pity on the=
m and shut them up in the hen-house to
sleep off their intoxication.
These were the boys and they lived togethe=
r as
happy as twelve lads could,
studying and playing, working and squabbling, fighting faults and cultivating virtues in =
the
good old-fashioned way. Boys =
at
other schools probably learned more from books, but less of that better wisdom which makes good men.
Latin, Greek, and mathematics=
were
all very well, but in Professor Bhaer's opinion, self knowledge, self-help, and
self-control were more important, =
span>and
he tried to teach them carefully. People shook their heads sometimes at his ideas, even while=
they
owned that the boys improved
wonderfully in manners and morals. But then, as Mrs. Jo said to Nat, "it was an odd
school."
The moment the bell rang next morning Nat =
flew
out of bed, and dressed himse=
lf
with great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he found on the chair. They were not =
new,
being half-worn garments of o=
ne of
the well-to-do boys; but Mrs. Bhaer kept all such cast-off feathers for the picked robins who
strayed into her nest. They were hardly
on when Tommy appeared in a high state of clean collar, and escorted Nat down to breakfast=
.
The sun was shining into the dining-room on
the well-spread table, and the
flock of hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it. Nat observed that they were much more
orderly than they had been the night
before, and every one stood silently behind his chair while little Rob, standing beside his fa=
ther
at the head of the table, fol=
ded
his hands, reverently bent his curly head, and softly repeated a short grace in the devo=
ut
German fashion, which Mr. Bha=
er
loved and taught his little son to honor. Then they all sat down to enjoy the Sunday-morning
breakfast of coffee, steak, and baked
potatoes, instead of the bread and milk fare with which they usually satisfied their young appe=
tites.
There was much pleasant talk =
while
the knives and forks rattled briskly, for certain Sunday lessons were to be learned, the Su=
nday
walk settled, and plans for t=
he
week discussed. As he listened, Nat thought it seemed as if this day must be a very pleasant one, f=
or he
loved quiet, and there was a
cheerful sort of hush over every thing that pleased him very much; because, in spite of his rou=
gh
life, the boy possessed the s=
ensitive
nerves which belong to a music-loving nature.
"Now, my lads, get your morning jobs
done, and let me find you rea=
dy for
church when the 'bus comes round," said Father Bhaer, and set the example by going into =
the
school-room to get books read=
y for
the morrow.
Every one scattered to his or her task, for
each had some little daily du=
ty,
and was expected to perform it faithfully. Some brought wood and water, brushed the
steps, or ran errands for Mrs. Bhaer.
Others fed the pet animals, and did chores about the barn with Franz. Daisy washed the cups,=
and
Demi wiped them, for the twins
liked to work together, and Demi had been taught to make himself useful in the little house=
at
home. Even Baby Teddy had his=
small
job to do, and trotted to and fro, putting napkins away, and pushing chairs into their plac=
es.
For half and hour the lads bu=
zzed
about like a hive of bees, then the 'bus drove round, Father Bhaer and Franz with the eight old=
er boys
piled in, and away they went =
for a
three-mile drive to church in town.
Because of the troublesome cough Nat prefe=
red
to stay at home with the four=
small
boys, and spent a happy morning in Mrs.&nb=
sp;
Bhaer's room, listening to the stories she read them, learning the hymns she taught them, and then qu=
ietly
employing himself pasting pic=
tures
into an old ledger.
"This is my Sunday closet," she said, showing him shelves filled with picture-books, paint-boxes, architectural blocks, little diaries, and materials for letter-writing. "I want my boys to love Sunday, to&nb= sp; find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn, in simple ways, lessons more important than any taught in school. Do you understand me?" she asked, wa= tching Nat's attentive face. <= o:p>
"You mean to be good?" he said,
after hesitating a minute.
"Yes; to be good, and to love to be g=
ood.
It is hard work sometimes, I =
know
very well; but we all help one another, and so we get on. This is one of the ways=
in
which I try to help my boys," <=
/span>and
she took down a thick book, which seemed half-full of writing, and opened at a page on which ther=
e was
one word at the top.
"Why, that's my name!" cried Nat,
looking both surprised and in=
terested.
"Yes; I have a page for each boy. I k=
eep
a little account of how he ge=
ts on
through the week, and Sunday night I show him the record. If it is bad I am sorry and
disappointed, if it is good I am glad and&=
nbsp;
proud; but, whichever it is, the boys know I want to help them, and<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> they try to do their best for love=
of me
and Father Bhaer."
"I should think they would," said
Nat, catching a glimpse of To=
mmy's
name opposite his own, and wondering what was written under it.
Mrs. Bhaer saw his eye on the words, and s=
hook
her head, saying, as she turn=
ed a
leaf
"No, I don't show my records to any b=
ut
the one to whom each belongs.=
I
call this my conscience book; and only you and I will ever know what is to be written on=
the
page below your name. Whether=
you
will be pleased or ashamed to read it next Sunday depends on yourself. I think it wi=
ll be
a good report; at any rate, I shall
try to make things easy for you in this new place, and shall be quite contented if you keep our few
rules, live happily with the =
boys,
and learn something."
"I'll try ma'am;" and Nat's thin
face flushed up with the earnestness
of his desire to make Mrs. Bhaer "glad and proud," not
"sorry and disappointed.=
"
"It must be a great deal of trouble to write about so many," he added, as she shut =
her
book with an encouraging pat on the
shoulder.
"Not to me, for I really don't know w=
hich
I like best, writing or boys,=
"
she said, laughing to see Nat stare with astonishment at the last item. "Yes, I know many =
people
think boys are a nuisance, but that
is because they don't understand them. I do; and I never saw the boy yet whom I could not get on
capitally with after I had once found
the soft spot in his heart. Bless me, I couldn't get on at all without my flock of dear, noisy,
naughty, harum-scarum little lads, <=
/span>could
I, my Teddy?" and Mrs. Bhaer hugged the young rogue, just in time to save the big inkstand f=
rom
going into his pocket. =
Nat, who had never heard anything like this
before, really did not know w=
hether
Mother Bhaer was a trifle crazy, or the most delightful woman he had ever met. =
He
rather inclined to the latter opinion,
in spite of her peculiar tastes, for she had a way of filling up a fellow's plate before he aske=
d, of
laughing at his jokes, gently tweaking
him by the ear, or clapping him on the shoulder, that Nat found very engaging.
"Now, I think you would like to go in= to the school-room and practise = some of the hymns we are to sing to-night," she said, rightly guessing the thing of all = others that he wanted to do. <= o:p>
Alone with the beloved violin and the
music-book propped up before =
him in
the sunny window, while Spring beauty filled the world outside, and Sabbath silence
reigned within, Nat enjoyed an hour
or two of genuine happiness, learning the sweet old tunes, and forgetting the hard past in the
cheerful present.
When the church-goers came back and dinner=
was
over, every one read, wrote l=
etters
home, said their Sunday lessons, or talked=
quietly to one another, sitting here and there about the house. At three o'clock the entire family tu=
rned
out to walk, for all the active young
bodies must have exercise; and in these walks the active young minds were taught to see and=
love
the providence of God in the
beautiful miracles which Nature was working before their eyes. Mr. Bhaer always went with them, a=
nd in
his simple, fatherly way, fou=
nd for
his flock, "Sermons in stones, books in the running brooks, and good in everything.&qu=
ot;
Mrs. Bhaer with Daisy and her own two boys
drove into town, to pay the w=
eekly
visit to Grandma, which was busy Mother Bhaer's one holiday and greatest pleasure.=
Nat
was not strong enough for the=
long
walk, and asked to stay at home with Tommy, who kindly offered to do the honors of Plumfi=
eld.
"You've seen the house, so come
out and have a look at the garden, and the barn, and the menagerie," said Tommy, when =
they
were left alone with Asia, to see
that they didn't get into mischief; for, though Tommy was one of the best-meaning boys who ever
adorned knickerbockers, accid=
ents
of the most direful nature were always happening to him, no one could exactly tell how.
"What is your menagerie?" asked =
Nat,
as they trotted along the dri=
ve
that encircled the house.
"We all have pets, you see, and we ke=
ep
'em in the corn-barn, and cal=
l it
the menagerie. Here you are. Isn't my guinea-pig a beauty?" and Tommy proudly presented one of=
the
ugliest specimens of that ple=
asing
animal that Nat ever saw.
"I know a boy with a dozen of 'em, an=
d he
said he'd give me one, only I
hadn't any place to keep it, so I couldn't have it. It was white, with black spots, a regular rouser=
, and
maybe I could get it for you =
if
you'd like it," said Nat, feeling it would be a delicate return for
"I'd like it ever so much, and I'll g=
ive
you this one, and they can li=
ve
together if they don't fight. Those white mice are Rob's, Franz gave 'em to him. The rabbits are N=
ed's,
and the bantams outside are
Stuffy's. That box thing is Demi's turtle-tank, only he hasn't begun to get 'em yet. Last year he=
had
sixty-two, whackers some of '=
em. He
stamped one of 'em with his name and the year, and let it go; and he says maybe he will find=
it
ever so long after and know i=
t. He
read about a turtle being found that had a mark on it that showed it must be hundreds of year=
s old.
Demi's such a funny chap.&quo=
t;
"What is in this box?" asked Nat,
stopping before a large deep one, =
span>half-full
of earth.
"Oh, that's Jack Ford's worm-shop. He
digs heaps of 'em and keeps '=
em
here, and when we want any to go afishing with, we buy some of him. It saves lots of trouble, =
only
he charged too much for 'em. =
Why,
last time we traded I had to pay two cents a dozen, and then got little ones. Jack's mean somet=
imes,
and I told him I'd dig for my=
self
if he didn't lower his prices. Now, I own two hens, those gray ones with top knots, first-ra=
te
ones they are too, and I sell Mrs.
Bhaer the eggs, but I never ask her more than twenty-five cents a dozen, never! I'd be asham=
ed to
do it," cried Tommy, with a
glance of scorn at the worm-shop.
"Who owns the dogs?" asked Nat, =
much
interested in these commercial
transactions, and feeling that T. Bangs was a man whom it would be a privilege and a
pleasure to patronize. =
"The big dog is Emil's. His name is
Christopher Columbus. Mrs. Bh=
aer
named him because she likes to say Christopher Columbus, and no one minds it if she means t=
he
dog," answered Tommy, in the
tone of a show-man displaying his menagerie. "The white pup is Rob's, and the yellow one is Te=
ddy's.
A man was going to drown them=
in
our pond, and Pa Bhaer wouldn't let him. They do well enough for the little chaps, I don=
't
think much of 'em myself. Their names
are Castor and Pollux." <=
/span>
"I'd like Toby the donkey best, if I
could have anything, it's so nice =
span>to
ride, and he's so little and good," said Nat, remembering the weary tramps he had taken on his o=
wn
tired feet.
"Mr. Laurie sent him out to Mrs. Bhae=
r,
so she shouldn't carry Teddy =
on her
back when we go to walk. We're all fond of Toby, and he's a first-rate donkey, sir.=
Those
pigeons belong to the whole l=
ot of
us, we each have our pet one, and go shares in all the little ones as they come along. Squabs are
great fun; there ain't any now, but
you can go up and take a look at the old fellows, while I see if Cockletop and Granny have laid any
eggs."
Nat climbed up a ladder, put his head thro=
ugh
a trap door and took a long l=
ook at
the pretty doves billing and cooing in their spacious loft. Some on their nests, some bu=
stling
in and out, and some sitting =
at
their doors, while many went flying from the sunny housetop to the straw-strewn farmy=
ard,
where six sleek cows were pla=
cidly
ruminating.
"Everybody has got something but me. I
wish I had a dove, or a hen, =
or
even a turtle, all my own," thought Nat, feeling very poor as he saw the interesting treasure=
s of
the other boys. "How do you get
these things?" he asked, when he joined Tommy in the barn.
"We find 'em or buy 'em, or folks give
'em to us. My father sends me=
mine;
but as soon as I get egg money enough, I'm going to buy a pair of ducks. There's a nice li=
ttle
pond for 'em behind the barn, and
people pay well for duck-eggs, and the little duckies are pretty, and it's fun to see 'em swim,"=
; said
Tommy, with the air of a mill=
ionaire.
Nat sighed, for he had neither father nor
money, nothing in the wide wo=
rld
but an old empty pocketbook, and the skill that lay in his ten finger tips. Tommy seemed =
to
understand the question and t=
he
sigh which followed his answer, for after a moment of deep thought, he suddenly broke out,
"Look here, I'll tell you what I'll d=
o.
If you will hunt eggs for me, I hate
it, I'll give you one egg out of every dozen. You keep account, and when you've had twelve, Mother=
Bhaer
will give you twenty-five cen=
ts for
'em, and then you can buy what you like,&n=
bsp;
don't you see?" =
span>
"I'll do it! What a kind feller you a=
re,
Tommy!" cried Nat, quite dazzled
by this brilliant offer.
"Pooh! that is not anything. You begin
now and rummage the barn, and=
I'll
wait here for you. Granny is cackling, so you're sure to find one somewhere," and Tommy thr=
ew
himself down on the hay with a
luxurious sense of having made a good bargain, and done a friendly thing.
Nat joyfully began his search, and went
rustling from loft to loft ti=
ll he
found two fine eggs, one hidden under a beam, and the other in an old peck measure, which Mrs.
Cockletop had appropriated. =
span>
"You may have one and I'll have the
other, that will just make up my
last dozen, and to-morrow we'll start fresh.
Here, you chalk your accounts up near mine,
and then we'll be all straigh=
t,"
said Tommy, showing a row of mysterious figures on the side of an old winnowing machine. =
With a delightful sense of importance, the
proud possessor of one egg op=
ened
his account with his friend, who laughingly wrote above the figures these imposing w=
ords,
"T. Bangs & Co."
Poor Nat found them so fascinating that he=
was
with difficulty persuaded to =
go and
deposit his first piece of portable property in Asia's store-room. Then they went =
on
again, and having made the ac=
quaintance
of the two horses, six cows, three pigs, and one Alderney "Bossy," as cal=
ves
are called in New England, Tommy took
Nat to a certain old willow-tree that overhung a noisy little brook. From the fence it was an ea=
sy
scramble into a wide niche be=
tween
the three big branches, which had been cut off to send out from year to year a crowd of slend=
er
twigs, till a green canopy ru=
stled
overhead. Here little seats had been fixed, and a hollow place a closet made big enough to =
hold a
book or two, a dismantled boa=
t, and
several half-finished whistles.
"This is Demi's and my private place;=
we
made it, and nobody can come =
up
unless we let 'em, except Daisy, we don't mind her," said Tommy, as Nat looked with delight =
from
the babbling brown water belo=
w to
the green arch above, where bees were making a musical murmur as they feasted on the long
yellow blossoms that filled the air
with sweetness.
"Oh, it's just beautiful!" cried
Nat. "I do hope you'll let me up
sometimes. I never saw such a nice place in all my life. I'd like to=
be a bird, and live here always.&q=
uot;
"It is pretty nice. You can come if D=
emi
don't mind, and I guess he wo=
n't,
because he said last night that he liked you."
"Did he?" and Nat smiled with
pleasure, for Demi's regard seemed <=
/span>to
be valued by all the boys, partly because he was Father Bhaer's nephew, and partly because he was =
such a
sober, conscientious little f=
ellow.
"Yes; Demi likes quiet chaps, and I g=
uess
he and you will get on if you=
care
about reading as he does."
Poor Nat's flush of pleasure deepened to a
painful scarlet at those last
words, and he stammered out, <=
/span>
I can't read very well; I never had any ti=
me;
I was always fiddling round, =
you
know."
"I don't love it myself, but I can do=
it
well enough when I want to," =
span>said
Tommy, after a surprised look, which said as plainly as words, "A boy twelve years old and c=
an't
read!"
"I can read music, anyway," added
Nat, rather ruffled at having to confess
his ignorance.
"I can't;" and Tommy spoke in a
respectful tone, which embold=
ened
Nat to say firmly,
"I mean to study real hard and learn =
every
thing I can, for I never had a
chance before. Does Mr. Bhaer give hard lessons?"
"No; he isn't a bit cross; he sort of
explains and gives you a boost over
the hard places. Some folks don't; my other master didn't. If we missed a word, didn't we get ra=
ps on
the head!" and Tommy rub=
bed
his own pate as if it tingled yet with the liberal supply of raps, the memory of which was the =
only
thing he brought away after a=
year
with his "other master."
"I think I could read this," said
Nat, who had been examining the books.
"Read a bit, then; I'll help you,&quo=
t;
resumed Tommy, with a patroni=
zing
air.
So Nat did his best, and floundered throug=
h a
page with may friendly
"boosts" from Tommy, who told him he would soon "go it" as well as anybody. Then =
they
sat and talked boy-fashion about all
sorts of things, among others, gardening; for Nat, looking down from his perch, asked what was pla=
nted
in the many little patches ly=
ing
below them on the other side of the brook.
"These are our farms," said Tomm=
y.
"We each have our own pa=
tch,
and raise what we like in it, only have to choose different things, and can't change till the =
crop
is in, and we must keep it in order
all summer."
"What are you going to raise this
year?"
"Wal, I cattleated to hev beans, as t=
hey
are about the easiest crop a-=
goin'."
Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had
pushed back his hat, put his =
hands
in his pockets, and drawled out his words in unconscious imitation of Silas, th=
e man
who managed the place for Mr.
Bhaer.
"Come, you needn't laugh; beans are e=
ver
so much easier than corn or
potatoes. I tried melons last year, but the bugs were a bother, and the old things wouldn't get ri=
pe
before the frost, so I didn't have
but one good water and two little 'mush mellions,' " said Tommy, relapsing into a
"Silasism" with the last word.
"Corn looks pretty growing," said
Nat, politely, to atone for his laugh.
"Yes, but you have to hoe it over and
over again. Now, six weeks' b=
eans
only have to be done once or so, and they get ripe soon. I'm going to try 'em, for I spoke firs=
t.
Stuffy wanted 'em, but he's got to <=
/span>take
peas; they only have to be picked, and he ought to do it, he eats such a lot."
"I wonder if I shall have a garden?&q=
uot;
said Nat, thinking that even =
corn-hoeing
must be pleasant work. =
"Of course you will," said a voi=
ce
from below, and there was Mr. Bhaer
returned from his walk, and come to find them, for he managed to have a little talk with=
every
one of the lads some time dur=
ing
the day, and found that these chats gave them a good start for the coming week.
Sympathy is a sweet thing, and it worked
wonders here, for each boy kn=
ew
that Father Bhaer was interested in him, and some were readier to open their hearts to hi=
m than
to a woman, especially the ol=
der
ones, who liked to talk over their hopes and plans, man to man. When sick or in trouble they
instinctively turned to Mrs. Jo, while
the little ones made her their mother-confessor on all occasions.
In descending from their nest, Tommy fell =
into
the brook; being used to it, =
he
calmly picked himself out and retired to the house to be dried. This left Nat to Mr. Bha=
er,
which was just what he wished=
, and,
during the stroll they took among the garden plots, he won the lad's heart by giving him a
little "farm," and discussing&nb=
sp;
crops with him as gravely as if the food for the family depended on<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> the harvest. From this pleasant to=
pic
they went to others, and Nat =
had
many new and helpful thoughts put into a mind that received them as gratefully as the thirsty =
earth
had received the warm spring =
rain.
All supper time he brooded over them, often fixing his eyes on Mr. Bhaer with an inquiring loo=
k,
that seemed to say, "I like that,
do it again, sir." I don't know whether the man understood the child's mute language or not, but =
when
the boys were all gathered to=
gether
in Mrs. Bhaer's parlor for the Sunday evening talk, he chose a subject which might have b=
een
suggested by the walk in the
garden.
As he looked about him Nat thought it seem=
ed
more like a great family than=
a
school, for the lads were sitting in a wide half-circle round the fire, some on chairs, so=
me on
the rug, Daisy and Demi on the
knees of Uncle Fritz, and Rob snugly stowed away in the back of his mother's easy-chair, w=
here
he could nod unseen if the ta=
lk got
beyond his depth.
Every one looked quite comfortable, and
listened attentively, for the=
long
walk made rest agreeable, and as every boy there knew that he would be called upon for h=
is views,
he kept his wits awake to be =
ready
with an answer.
"Once upon a time," began Mr. Bh=
aer,
in the dear old-fashioned way,
"there was a great and wise gardener who had the largest garden ever seen. A wonderful and =
lovely
place it was, and he watched =
over
it with the greatest skill and care, and raised all manner of excellent and useful thi=
ngs.
But weeds would grow even in =
this
fine garden; often the ground was bad and the good seeds sown in it would not spring up. He=
had
many under gardeners to help =
him.
Some did their duty and earned the rich wages he gave them; but others neglected their p=
arts
and let them run to waste, wh=
ich
displeased him very much. But he was very patient, and for thousands and thousands of years he
worked and waited for his gre=
at
harvest."
"He must have been pretty old," =
said
Demi, who was looking straigh=
t into
Uncle Fritz's face, as if to catch every word.
"Hush, Demi, it's a fairy story,"
whispered Daisy.
"No, I think it's an arrygory," =
said
Demi.
"What is a arrygory?" called out
Tommy, who was of an inquiring turn.
"Tell him, Demi, if you can, and don't
use words unless you are quit=
e sure
you know what they mean," said Mr. Bhaer.
"I do know, Grandpa told me! A fable =
is a
arrygory; it's a story that m=
eans
something. My 'Story without an end' is one, because the child in it means a soul; don't it,
Aunty?" cried Demi, eager to =
span>prove
himself right.
"That's it, dear; and Uncle's story i=
s an
allegory, I am quite sure; so listen
and see what it means," returned Mrs. Jo, who always took part in whatever was going on, and
enjoyed it as much as any boy among
them.
Demi composed himself, and Mr. Bhaer went =
on
in his best English, for he h=
ad
improved much in the last five years, and said the boys did it.
"This great gardener gave a dozen or =
so
of little plots to one of his servants,
and told him to do his best and see what he could raise. Now this servant was not rich, nor=
wise,
nor very good, but he wanted =
to
help because the gardener had been very kind to him in many ways. So he gladly took the l=
ittle
plots and fell to work. They =
were
all sorts of shapes and sizes, and some were very good soil, some rather stony, and all of them
needed much care, for in the =
rich
soil the weeds grew fast, and in the poor soil there were many stones."
"What was growing in them besides the
weeds, and stones?" asked Nat;
so interested, he forgot his shyness and spoke before them all.
"Flowers," said Mr. Bhaer, with a
kind look. "Even the roughest,
most neglected little bed had a bit of heart's-ease or a sprig of
At this part of the "arrygory," =
Demi
put his head on one side like an
inquisitive bird, and fixed his bright eye on his uncle's face, as if he suspected something and was =
on the
watch. But Mr. Bhaer looked
perfectly innocent, and went on glancing from one young face to another, with a grave, wis=
tful
look, that said much to his w=
ife,
who knew how earnestly he desired to do his duty in these little garden plots.
"As I tell you, some of these beds we=
re
easy to cultivate, that means=
to
take care of Daisy, and others were very hard. There was one particularly sunshiny little b=
ed
that might have been full of =
fruits
and vegetables as well as flowers, only it wouldn't take any pains, and when the man sowed, wel=
l,
we'll say melons in this bed, they
came to nothing, because the little bed neglected them. The man was sorry, and kept on trying,
though every time the crop fa=
iled,
all the bed said, was, 'I forgot.' "
Here a general laugh broke out, and every =
one
looked at Tommy, who had pric=
ked up
his ears at the word "melons," and hung down his head at the sound of his favor=
ite
excuse.
"I knew he meant us!" cried Demi,
clapping his hands. "You are =
span>the
man, and we are the little gardens; aren't we, Uncle Fritz?"
"You have guessed it. Now each of you
tell me what crop I shall try=
to
sow in you this spring, so that next autumn I may get a good harvest out of my twelve, no, thir=
teen,
plots," said Mr. Bhaer, =
nodding
at Nat as he corrected himself.
"You can't sow corn and beans and pea=
s in
us. Unless you mean we are to=
eat a
great many and get fat," said Stuffy, with a sudden brightening of his round, dull fac=
e as
the pleasing idea occurred to him.
"He don't mean that kind of seeds. He
means things to make us good;=
and
the weeds are faults," cried Demi, who usually took the lead in these talks, because he wa=
s used
to this sort of thing, and li=
ked it
very much.
"Yes, each of you think what you need
most, and tell me, and I will help
you to grow it; only you must do your best, or you will turn out like Tommy's melons, all leave=
s and
no fruit. I will begin with t=
he
oldest, and ask the mother what she will have in her plot, for we are all parts of the beautiful
garden, and may have rich harvests <=
/span>for
our Master if we love Him enough," said Father Bhaer.
"I shall devote the whole of my plot =
to
the largest crop of patience =
I can
get, for that is what I need most," said Mrs. Jo, so soberly that the lads fell to thinking in good
earnest what they should say when =
span>their
turns came, and some among them felt a twinge of remorse, that they had helped to use up Mot=
her
Bhaer's stock of patience so =
fast.
Franz wanted perseverance, Tommy steadines=
s,
Ned went in for good temper, =
Daisy
for industry, Demi for "as much wiseness as Grandpa," and Nat timidly sai=
d he
wanted so many things he woul=
d let
Mr. Bhaer choose for him. The others chose much the same things, and patience, good te=
mper,
and generosity seemed the fav=
orite
crops. One boy wished to like to get up early, but did not know what name to give that sort of
seed; and poor Stuffy sighed =
out,
"I wish I loved my lessons as much as=
I
do my dinner, but I can't."
"We will plant self-denial, and hoe it
and water it, and make it gro=
w so
well that next Christmas no one will get ill by eating too much dinner. If you exercise your =
mind,
George, it will get hungry ju=
st as
your body does, and you will love books almost as much as my philosopher here," said Mr.
Bhaer; adding, as he stroked the hair
off Demi's fine forehead, "You are greedy also, my son, and you like to stuff your little mind=
full
of fairy tales and fancies, as well
as George likes to fill his little stomach with cake and candy. Both are bad, and I want you to try
something better. Arithmetic is not
half so pleasant as 'Arabian Nights,' I know, but it is a very useful thing, and now is the time =
to
learn it, else you will be as=
hamed
and sorry by and by."
"But, 'Harry and Lucy,' and 'Frank,' =
are
not fairy books, and they are=
all
full of barometers, and bricks, and shoeing horses, and useful things, and I'm fond of the=
m;
ain't I, Daisy?" said Demi, anxious
to defend himself.
"So they are; but I find you reading
'Roland and Maybird,' a great deal
oftener than 'Harry and Lucy,' and I think you are not half so fond of 'Frank' as you are of 'Sin=
bad.'
Come, I shall make a little b=
argain
with you both, George shall eat but three times a day, and you shall read but one story-book a
week, and I will give you the new
cricket-ground; only, you must promise to play in it," said Uncle Fritz, in his persuasive way=
, for
Stuffy hated to run about, an=
d Demi
was always reading in play hours.
"But we don't like cricket," said
Demi.
"Perhaps not now, but you will when y=
ou
know it. Besides, you do like=
to be
generous, and the other boys want to play, and you can give them the new ground if you
choose."
This was taken them both on the right side,
and they agreed to the bargai=
n, to
the great satisfaction of the rest.
There was a little more talk about the
gardens, and then they all sa=
ng
together. The band delighted Nat, for Mrs. Bhaer played the piano, Franz the flute, Mr. Bhaer =
a bass
viol, and he himself the viol=
in. A
very simple little concert, but all seemed to enjoy it, and old Asia, sitting in the corner, j=
oined
at times with the sweetest vo=
ice of
any, for in this family, master and servant, old and young, black and white, shared in the Sun=
day
song, which went up to the Fa=
ther
of them all. After this they each shook hands with Father Bhaer; Mother Bhaer kissed them ev=
ery
one from sixteen-year-old Fra=
nz to
little Rob, how kept the tip of her nose for his own particular kisses, and then they t=
rooped
up to bed.
The light of the shaded lamp that burned in
the nursery shone softly on a=
picture
hanging at the foot of Nat's bed. There were several others on the walls, but t=
he boy
thought there must be somethi=
ng
peculiar about this one, for it had a graceful frame of moss and cones about it, and on a =
little
bracket underneath stood a va=
se of
wild flowers freshly gathered from the spring woods. It was the most beautiful picture of =
them
all, and Nat lay looking at i=
t,
dimly feeling what it meant, and wishing he knew all about it.
"That's my picture," said a litt=
le
voice in the room. Nat popped up his
head, and there was Demi in his night-gown pausing on his way back from Aunt Jo's chamber, w=
hither
he had gone to get a cot for =
a cut
finger.
"What is he doing to the children?&qu=
ot;
asked Nat.
"That is Christ, the Good Man, and He=
is
blessing the children. Don't =
you
know about Him?" said Demi, wondering.
"Not much, but I'd like to, He looks =
so
kind," answered Nat, whose chief
knowledge of the Good Man consisted in hearing His name taken in vain.
"I know all about it, and I like it v=
ery
much, because it is true," said
Demi.
"Who told you?"
"My Grandpa, he knows every thing, and
tells the best stories in the
world. I used to play with his big books, and make bridges, and railroads, and houses, when I was a
little boy," began Demi.
"How old are you now?" asked Nat,
respectfully.
"'Most ten."
"You know a lot of things, don't
you?"
"Yes; you see my head is pretty big, =
and
Grandpa says it will take a g=
ood
deal to fill it, so I keep putting pieces of wisdom into it as fast as I can," returned Demi=
, in
his quaint way.
Nat laughed, and then said soberly,
"Tell on, please."
And Demi gladly told on without pause or
punctuation. "I found a =
very
pretty book one day and wanted to play with it, but Grandpa said I mustn't, and showed me the
pictures, and told me about t=
hem,
and I liked the stories very much, all about Joseph and his bad brothers, and the frogs that c=
ame up
out of the sea, and dear litt=
le
Moses in the water, and ever so many more lovely ones, but I liked about the Good Man best of a=
ll,
and Grandpa told it to me so =
many
times that I learned it by heart, and he gave me this picture so I shouldn't forget, and it was =
put up
here once when I was sick, an=
d I
left it for other sick boys to see."'
"What makes Him bless the children?&q=
uot;
asked Nat, who found somethin=
g very
attractive in the chief figure of the group.
"Because He loved them."
"Were they poor children?" asked
Nat, wistfully.
"Yes, I think so; you see some haven't
got hardly any clothes on, an=
d the
mothers don't look like rich ladies. He liked poor people, and was very good to them. He made=
them
well, and helped them, and to=
ld
rich people they must not be cross to them, and they loved Him dearly, dearly," cried De=
mi,
with enthusiasm.
"Was He rich?"
"Oh no! He was born in a barn, and wa=
s so
poor He hadn't any house to l=
ive in
when He grew up, and nothing to eat sometimes, but what people gave Him, and He w=
ent
round preaching to everybody,=
and
trying to make them good, till the bad men killed Him."
"What for?" and Nat sat up in his
bed to look and listen, so in=
terested
was he in this man who cared for the poor so much.
"I'll tell you all about it; Aunt Jo
won't mind;" and Demi settled <=
/span>himself
on the opposite bed, glad to tell his favorite story to so good a listener.
Nursey peeped in to see if Nat was asleep,=
but
when she saw what was going o=
n, she
slipped away again, and went to Mrs. Bhaer, saying with her kind face full of
motherly emotion,
"Will the dear lady come and see a pr=
etty
sight? It's Nat listening wit=
h all
his heart to Demi telling the story of the Christ-child, like a little white angel as he is.&quo=
t;
Mrs. Bhaer had meant to go and talk with N=
at a
moment before he slept, for s=
he had
found that a serious word spoken at this time often did much good. But when she =
stole
to the nursery door, and saw =
Nat
eagerly drinking in the words of his little friends, while Demi told the sweet and solemn sto=
ry as
it had been taught him, speak=
ing
softly as he sat with his beautiful eyes fixed on the tender face above them, her own filled wi=
th
tears, and she went silently =
away,
thinking to herself,
"Demi is unconsciously helping the po=
or
boy better than I can; I will=
not
spoil it by a single word."
The murmur of the childish voice went on f=
or a
long time, as one innocent he=
art
preached that great sermon to another, and no one hushed it. When it ceased at last,=
and
Mrs. Bhaer went to take away =
the
lamp, Demi was gone and Nat fast asleep, lying with his face toward the picture, as if he =
had
already learned to love the G=
ood
Man who loved little children, and was a faithful friend to the poor. The boy's face was very
placid, and as she looked at it she
felt that if a single day of care and kindness had done so much, a year of patient cultivation would
surely bring a grateful harvest from
this neglected garden, which was already sown with the best of all seed by the little missiona=
ry in
the night-gown.
CHAPTER IV STEPPING-STONES=
a>
When Nat went into school on Monday mornin=
g,
he quaked inwardly, for now he
thought he should have to display his
ignorance before them all. But Mr. Bhaer gave him a seat in the deep window, where he could turn h=
is
back on the others, and Franz=
heard
him say his lessons there, so no one could hear his blunders or see how he blotted his
copybook. He was truly grateful for
this, and toiled away so diligently that Mr. Bhaer said, smiling, when he saw his hot face and inky
fingers:
"Don't work so hard, my boy; you will
tire yourself out, and there =
is
time enough."
"But I must work hard, or I can't cat=
ch
up with the others. They know
heaps, and I don't know anything," said Nat, who had been reduced to a state of despair by h=
earing
the boys recite their grammar,
history, and geography with what he thought amazing ease and accuracy.
"You know a good many things which th= ey don't," said Mr. Bhaer, = sitting down beside him, while Franz led a class of small students through the intricacies of the multiplication table. <= o:p>
"Do I?" and Nat looked utterly
incredulous.
"Yes; for one thing, you can keep your
temper, and Jack, who is quic=
k at
numbers, cannot; that is an excellent lesson, and I think you have learned it well. Then, yo=
u can
play the violin, and not one =
of the
lads can, though they want to do it very much. But, best of all, Nat, you really care to le=
arn
something, and that is half the battle.
It seems hard at first, and you will feel discouraged, but plod away, and things will get eas=
ier
and easier as you go on."
Nat's face had brightened more and more as=
he
listened, for, small as the l=
ist of
his learning was, it cheered him immensely to feel that he had anything to fall back =
upon.
"Yes, I can keep my temper father's
beating taught me that; and I can fiddle, though I don't know where the Bay of Biscay is,&q=
uot;
he thought, with a sense of c=
omfort
impossible to express. Then he said aloud, and so earnestly that Demi heard him:
"I do want to learn, and I will try. I
never went to school, but I c=
ouldn't
help it; and if the fellows don't laugh at me, I guess I'll get on first rate you and the lady are=
so
good to me."
"They shan't laugh at you; if they do,
I'll I'll tell them not to," cried&nb=
sp;
Demi, quite forgetting where he was.
The class stopped in the middle of 7 times=
9,
and everyone looked up to see=
what
was going on.
Thinking that a lesson in learning to help=
one
another was better than arith=
metic
just then, Mr. Bhaer told them about Nat, making such an interesting and touching l=
ittle
story out of it that the good=
-hearted
lads all promised to lend him a hand, and felt quite honored to be called upon to impart
their stores of wisdom to the chap
who fiddled so capitally. This appeal established the right feeling among them, and Nat had few
hindrances to struggle agains=
t, for
every one was glad to give him a "boost" up the ladder of learning.
Till he was stronger, much study was not g=
ood
for him, however, and Mrs. Jo=
found
various amusements in the house for him while others were at their books. But his
garden was his best medicine, and
he worked away like a beaver, preparing his little farm, sowing his beans, watching eagerly=
to
see them grow, and rejoicing =
over
each green leaf and slender stock that shot up and flourished in the warm spring weat=
her.
Never was a garden more faith=
fully
hoed; Mr. Bhaer really feared that nothing would find time to grow, Nat kept up such a
stirring of the soil; so he gave him
easy jobs in the flower garden or among the strawberries, where he worked and hummed as busi=
ly as
the bees booming all about hi=
m.
"This is the crop I like best," =
Mrs.
Bhaer used to say, as she pin=
ched
the once thin cheeks, now getting plump and ruddy, or stroked the bent shoulders that we=
re
slowly straightening up with =
healthful
work, good food, and the absence of that heavy burden, poverty.
Demi was his little friend, Tommy his patr=
on,
and Daisy the comforter of al=
l his
woes; for, though the children were younger than he, his timid spirit found a
pleasure in their innocent society,
and rather shrunk from the rough sports of the elder lads. Mr. Laurence did not forget him, but s=
ent
clothes and books, music and =
kind
messages, and now and then came out to see how his boy was getting on, or took him into town =
to a
concert; on which occasions N=
at
felt himself translated into the seventh heaven of bliss, for he went to Mr. Laurence's great house=
, saw
his pretty wife and little fa=
iry of
a daughter, had a good dinner, and was made so comfortable, that he talked and dr=
eamed
of it for days and nights aft=
erward.
It takes so little to make a child happy t=
hat
it is a pity, in a world so f=
ull of
sunshine and pleasant things, that there should be any wistful faces, empty hands, or lon=
ely
little hearts. Feeling this, the Bhaers
gathered up all the crumbs they could find to feed their flock of hungry sparrows, for they=
were
not rich, except in charity. =
Many
of Mrs. Jo's friends who had nurseries sent her they toys of which their children so soon tired=
, and
in mending these Nat found an
employment that just suited him. He was very neat and skillful with those slender fingers of his,=
and
passed many a rainy afternoon=
with
his gum-bottle, paint-box, and knife, repairing furniture, animals, and games, whi=
le
Daisy was dressmaker to the d=
ilapidated
dolls. As fast as the toys were mended, they were put carefully away in a certain drawer=
which
was to furnish forth a Christ=
mas-tree
for all the poor children of the neighborhood, that being the way the Plumfield boys
celebrated the birthday of Him who
loved the poor and blessed the little ones.
Demi was never tired of reading and explai=
ning
his favorite books, and many a
pleasant hour did they spend in the old willow, revelling over "Robinson
Crusoe," "Arabian Nights," "Edgeworth's Tales," and the other dear im=
mortal
stories that will delight chi=
ldren
for centuries to come. This opened a new world to Nat, and his eagerness to see what came=
next
in the story helped him on ti=
ll he
could read as well as anybody, and felt so rich and proud with his new accomplishment, that =
there
was danger of his being as mu=
ch of
a bookworm as Demi.
Another helpful thing happened in a most
unexpected and agreeable mann=
er. Several
of the boys were "in business," as they called it, for most of them were p=
oor,
and knowing that they would h=
ave
their own way to make by and by, the Bhaers encouraged any efforts at independence. Tommy sol=
d his
eggs; Jack speculated in live=
stock;
Franz helped in the teaching, and was paid for it; Ned had a taste for carpentry, and a
turning-lathe was set up for him in
which he turned all sorts of useful or pretty things, and sold them;=
while Demi constructed water-mills,
whirligigs, and unknown machi=
nes of
an intricate and useless nature, and disposed of them to the boys.
"Let him be a mechanic if he likes,&q=
uot;
said Mr. Bhaer. "Give a boy a <=
/span>trade,
and he is independent. Work is wholesome, and whatever talent these lads possess, be it f=
or poetry
or ploughing, it shall be cul=
tivated
and made useful to them if possible."
So, when Nat came running to him one day to
ask with an excited face:
"Can I go and fiddle for some people =
who
are to have a picnic in our w=
oods?
They will pay me, and I'd like to earn some money as the other boys do, and fiddling is=
the
only way I know how to do it =
"
Mr. Bhaer answered readily:
"Go, and welcome. It is an easy and a
pleasant way to work, and I a=
m glad
it is offered you."
Nat went, and did so well that when he came
home he had two dollars in his
pocket, which he displayed with intense satisfaction, as he told how much he had enjoyed=
the
afternoon, how kind the young
people were, and how they had praised his dance music, and promised to have him again.
"It is so much nicer than fiddling in=
the
street, for then I got none o=
f the
money, and now I have it all, and a good time besides. I'm in business now as well as Tommy and =
Jack,
and I like it ever so much,&q=
uot;
said Nat, proudly patting the old pocketbook, and feeling like a millionaire already.
He was in business truly, for picnics were
plenty as summer opened, and =
Nat's
skill was in great demand. He was always at liberty to go if lessons were not
neglected, and if the picnickers were
respectable young people. For Mr. Bhaer explained to him that a good plain education is nec=
essary
for everyone, and that no amo=
unt of
money should hire him to go where he might be tempted to do wrong. Nat quite agr=
eed to
this, and it was a pleasant s=
ight
to see the innocent-hearted lad go driving away in the gay wagons that stopped at the=
gate
for him, or to hear him come
fiddling home tired but happy, with his well-earned money in one pocket, and some
"goodies" from the feast for Daisy or little Ted, whom he never forgot.
"I'm going to save up till I get enou=
gh
to buy a violin for myself, a=
nd
then I can earn my own living, can't I?" he used to say, as he brought his dollars to Mr. Bhaer to
keep.
"I hope so, Nat; but we must get you
strong and hearty first, and =
put a
little more knowledge into this musical head of yours. Then Mr. Laurie will find you a place
somewhere, and in a few years we will
all come to hear you play in public."
With much congenial work, encouragement, a=
nd
hope, Nat found life getting =
easier
and happier every day, and made such progress in his music lessons that his teac=
her
forgave his slowness in some =
other
things, knowing very well that where the heart is the mind works best. The only punishment th=
e boy
ever needed for neglect of mo=
re
important lessons was to hang up the fiddle and the bow for a day. The fear of losing his =
bosom
friend entirely made him go a=
t his
books with a will; and having proved that he could master the lessons, what was the use of s=
aying
"I can't?"
Daisy had a great love of music, and a gre=
at
reverence for any one who cou=
ld
make it, and she was often found sitting on the stairs outside Nat's door while he was
practising. This pleased him very =
span>much,
and he played his best for that one quiet little listener; for she never would come in, but prefe=
rred
to sit sewing her gay patchwo=
rk, or
tending one of her many dolls, with an expression of dreamy pleasure on her face that m=
ade
Aunt Jo say, with tears in her
eyes: "So like my Beth," and go softly by, lest even her familiar=
presence mar the child's sweet
satisfaction.
Nat was very fond of Mrs. Bhaer, but found
something even more attractiv=
e in
the good professor, who took fatherly care of the shy feeble boy, who had barely escaped=
with
his life from the rough sea on
which his little boat had been tossing rudderless for twelve years. Some good angel must have b=
een
watching over him, for, thoug=
h his
body had suffered, his soul seemed to have taken little harm, and came ashore as innocent =
as a
shipwrecked baby. Perhaps his=
love
of music kept it sweet in spite of the discord all about him; Mr. Laurie said so, and=
he
ought to know. However that m=
ight
be, Father Bhaer took pleasure in fostering poor Nat's virtues, and in curing his faults,
finding his new pupil as docile and
affectionate as a girl. He often called Nat his "daughter"
when speaking of him to Mrs. =
Jo,
and she used to laugh at his fancy, for&nb=
sp;
Madame liked manly boys, and thought Nat amiable but weak, though you never would have guessed=
it,
for she petted him as she did
Daisy, and he thought her a very delightful woman.
One fault of Nat's gave the Bhaers much
anxiety, although they saw ho=
w it
had been strengthened by fear and ignorance. I regret to say that Nat sometimes told lies. =
Not
very black ones, seldom getti=
ng
deeper than gray, and often the mildest of white fibs; but that did not matter, a lie is a li=
e, and
though we all tell many polite untruths
in this queer world of ours, it is not right, and everybody knows it.
"You cannot be too careful; watch your
tongue, and eyes, and hands, =
for it
is easy to tell, and look, and act untruth," said Mr. Bhaer, in one of the talks he had =
with
Nat about his chief temptatio=
n.
"I know it, and I don't mean to, but =
it's
so much easier to get along i=
f you
ain't very fussy about being exactly true. I used to tell 'em because I was afraid of father and
Nicolo, and now I do sometimes because
the boys laugh at me. I know it's bad, but I forget," and Nat looked much depressed by his s=
ins.
"When I was a little lad I used to te=
ll
lies! Ach! what fibs they wer=
e, and
my old grandmother cured me of it how, do you think? My parents had talked, and cried, =
and
punished, but still did I for=
get as
you. Then said the dear old grandmother, 'I shall help you to remember, and put a check on th=
is
unruly part,' with that she d=
rew
out my tongue and snipped the end with her scissors till the blood ran. That was terrible, you =
may
believe, but it did me much g=
ood,
because it was sore for days, and every word I said came so slowly that I had time to think. A=
fter
that I was more careful, and =
got on
better, for I feared the big scissors. Yet the dear grandmother was most kind to me in=
all
things, and when she lay dyin=
g far
away in Nuremberg, she prayed that little Fritz might love God and tell the truth."=
"I never had any grandmothers, but if=
you
think it will cure me, I'll l=
et you
snip my tongue," said Nat, heroically, for he dreaded pain, yet did wish to stop fibbing.
Mr. Bhaer smiled, but shook his head.
"I have a better way than that, I tri=
ed
it once before and it worked =
well.
See now, when you tell a lie I will not punish you, but you shall punish me."
"How?" asked Nat, startled at the
idea.
"You shall ferule me in the good
old-fashioned way; I seldom do it =
span>myself,
but it may make you remember better to give me pain than to feel it yourself."
"Strike you? Oh, I couldn't!" cr=
ied
Nat.
"Then mind that tripping tongue of th=
ine.
I have no wish to be hurt, bu=
t I
would gladly bear much pain to cure this fault."
This suggestion made such an impression on
Nat, that for a long time he =
set a
watch upon his lips, and was desperately accurate, for Mr. Bhaer judged rightly, that lov=
e of
him would be more powerful wi=
th Nat
that fear for himself. But alas! one sad day Nat was off his guard, and when peppery Emil
threatened to thrash him, if it was
he who had run over his garden and broken down his best hills of corn, Nat declared he didn't, a=
nd
then was ashamed to own up th=
at he
did do it, when Jack was chasing him the night before.
He thought no one would find it out, but T=
ommy
happened to see him, and when=
Emil
spoke of it a day or two later, Tommy gave=
his evidence, and Mr. Bhaer heard it. School was over, and they were all standing about in the hal=
l, and
Mr. Bhaer had just set down o=
n the
straw settee to enjoy his frolic with Teddy; but when he heard Tommy and saw Nat turn sc=
arlet,
and look at him with a fright=
ened
face, he put the little boy down, saying, "Go to thy mother, bbchen, I will come soon," and taking Nat by the hand led
him into the school and shut the door.
The boys looked at one another in silence =
for
a minute, then Tommy slipped =
out
and peeping in at the half-closed blinds,&=
nbsp;
beheld a sight that quite bewildered him. Mr. Bhaer had just taken down the long rule that hung over =
his
desk, so seldom used that it =
was
covered with dust.
"My eye! He's going to come down heav=
y on
Nat this time. Wish I hadn't
told," thought good-natured Tommy, for to be feruled was the deepest disgrace at this schoo=
l.
"You remember what I told you last
time?" said Mr. Bhaer, s=
orrowfully,
not angrily.
"Yes; but please don't make me, I can=
't
bear it," cried Nat, backing =
span>up
against the door with both hands behind him, and a face full of distress.
"Why don't he up and take it like a m=
an?
I would," thought Tommy,
though his heart beat fast at the sight.
"I shall keep my word, and you must
remember to tell the truth. O=
bey
me, Nat, take this and give me six good strokes."
Tommy was so staggered by this last speech
that he nearly tumbled down t=
he
bank, but saved himself, and hung onto the window ledge, staring in with eyes as rou=
nd as
the stuffed owl's on the chim=
ney-piece.
Nat took the rule, for when Mr. Bhaer spok=
e in
that tone everyone obeyed him=
, and,
looking as scared and guilty as if about to stab his master, he gave two feeble blo=
ws on
the broad hand held out to hi=
m.
Then he stopped and looked up half-blind with tears, but Mr. Bhaer said steadily:
"Go on, and strike harder."
As if seeing that it must be done, and eag=
er
to have the hard task soon ov=
er,
Nat drew his sleeve across his eyes and gave two more quick hard strokes that reddened t=
he
hand, yet hurt the giver more.
"Isn't that enough?" he asked in=
a
breathless sort of tone.
"Two more," was all the answer, =
and
he gave them, hardly seeing w=
here
they fell, then threw the rule all across the room, and hugging the kind hand in both his =
own,
laid his face down on it sobb=
ing
out in a passion of love, and shame, and penitence:
"I will remember! Oh! I will!" <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
Then Mr. Bhaer put an arm about him, and s=
aid
in a tone as compassionate as=
it
had just now been firm:
"I think you will. Ask the dear God to
help you, and try to spare us both
another scene like this."
Tommy saw no more, for he crept back to the
hall, looking so excited and =
sober
that the boys crowded round him to ask what was being done to Nat.
In a most impressive whisper Tommy told th=
em,
and they looked as if the sky=
was
about to fall, for this reversing the order of things almost took their breath away.
"He made me do the same thing once,&q=
uot;
said Emil, as if confessing a=
crime
of the deepest dye.
"And you hit him? dear old Father Bha=
er?
By thunder, I'd just like to =
see
you do it now!" said Ned, collaring Emil in a fit of righteous wrath.
"It was ever so long ago. I'd rather =
have
my head cut off than do it no=
w,"
and Emil mildly laid Ned on his back instead of cuffing him, as he would have felt it his =
duty
to do on any less solemn occa=
sion.
"How could you?" said Demi, appa=
lled
at the idea.
"I was hopping mad at the time, and
thought I shouldn't mind a bit, rather
like it perhaps. But when I'd hit uncle one good crack, everything he had ever done for me=
came
into my head all at once some=
how,
and I couldn't go on. No sir! If he'd laid me down and walked on me, I wouldn't have mind=
ed, I
felt so mean," and Emil =
gave
himself a good thump in the chest to express his sense of remorse for the past.
"Nat's crying like anything, and feel=
s no
end sorry, so don't let's say a
word about it; will we?" said tender-hearted Tommy.
"Of course we won't, but it's awful t=
o tell
lies," and Demi looked as if
he found the awfulness much increased when the punishment fell not upon the sinner, but his =
best
Uncle Fritz.
"Suppose we all clear out, so Nat can=
cut
upstairs if he wants to," proposed
Franz, and led the way to the barn, their refuge in troublous times.
Nat did not come to dinner, but Mrs. Jo to=
ok
some up to him, and said a te=
nder
word, which did him good, though he could not look at her. By and by the lads playing
outside heard the violin, and said <=
/span>among
themselves: "He's all right now." He was all right, but felt shy about going down, till opening=
his
door to slip away into the wo=
ods,
he found Daisy sitting on the stairs with neither work nor doll, only her little handkerchief=
in
her hand, as if she had been =
mourning
for her captive friend.
"I'm going to walk; want to come?&quo=
t;
asked Nat, trying to look as if nothing
was the matter, yet feeling very grateful for her silent sympathy, because he fancied every=
one
must look upon him as a wretc=
h.
"Oh yes!" and Daisy ran for her =
hat,
proud to be chosen as a compa=
nion
by one of the big boys.
The others saw them go, but no one followe=
d,
for boys have a great deal mo=
re
delicacy than they get credit for, and the lads instinctively felt that, when in
disgrace, gentle little Daisy was =
span>their
most congenial friend. =
The walk did Nat good, and he came home
quieter than usual, but looki=
ng
cheerful again, and hung all over with daisy-chains made by his little playmate while he la=
y on
the grass and told her stories.
No one said a word about the scene of the
morning, but its effect was a=
ll the
more lasting for that reason, perhaps. Nat tried his very best, and found much help, not onl=
y from
the earnest little prayers he
prayed to his Friend in heaven, but also in the patient care of the earthly friend whose kind hand he =
never
touched without remembering t=
hat it
had willingly borne pain for his sake.
"What's the matter, Daisy?"
"The boys won't let me play with them=
."
"Why not?"
"They say girls can't play
football."
"They can, for I've done it!" and
Mrs. Bhaer laughed at the rem=
embrance
of certain youthful frolics. <=
/span>
"I know I can play; Demi and I used t=
o,
and have nice times, but he w=
on't
let me now because the other boys laugh at him," and Daisy looked deeply grieved at her broth=
er's
hardness of heart.
"On the whole, I think he is right,
deary. It's all very well when you <=
/span>two
are alone, but it is too rough a game for you with a dozen boys; so I'd find some nice little=
play
for myself."
"I'm tired of playing alone!" and
Daisy's tone was very mournful.
"I'll play with you by and by, but ju=
st
now I must fly about and get =
things
ready for a trip into town. You shall go with me and see mamma, and if you like you can sta=
y with
her."
"I should like to go and see her and =
Baby
Josy, but I'd rather come bac=
k,
please. Demi would miss me, and I love to be here, Aunty."
"You can't get on without your Demi, =
can
you?" and Aunt Jo looked=
as if
she quite understood the love of the little girl for her only brother.
"'Course I can't; we're twins, and so=
we
love each other more than oth=
er
people," answered Daisy, with a brightening face, for she considered being a twin one of the
highest honors she could ever receive.
"Now, what will you do with your litt=
le
self while I fly around?" asked
Mrs. Bhaer, who was whisking piles of linen into a wardrobe with great rapidity.
"I don't know, I'm tired of dolls and
things; I wish you'd make up a new
play for me, Aunty Jo," said Daisy, swinging listlessly on the door.
"I shall have to think of a brand new
one, and it will take me some time;
so suppose you go down and see what Asia has got for your lunch," suggested Mrs. Bhaer,
thinking that would be a good way =
span>in
which to dispose of the little hindrance for a time.
"Yes, I think I'd like that, if she i=
sn't
cross," and Daisy slowly departed
to the kitchen, where Asia, the black cook, reigned undisturbed.
In five minutes, Daisy was back again, wit=
h a
wide-awake face, a bit of dou=
gh in
her hand and a dab of flour on her little nose.
"Oh aunty! Please could I go and make
gingersnaps and things? Asia =
isn't
cross, and she says I may, and it would be such fun, please do," cried Daisy, all =
in one
breath.
"Just the thing, go and welcome, make
what you like, and stay as lo=
ng as
you please," answered Mrs. Bhaer, much relieved, for sometimes the one little girl was =
harder
to amuse than the dozen boys.=
Daisy ran off, and while she worked, Aunt =
Jo
racked her brain for a new pl=
ay.
All of a sudden she seemed to have an idea, for she smiled to herself, slammed the doo=
rs of
the wardrobe, and walked bris=
kly
away, saying, "I'll do it, if it's a possible thing!"
What it was no one found out that day, but
Aunt Jo's eyes twinkled so wh=
en she
told Daisy she had thought of a new play, and was going to buy it, that Daisy was mu=
ch
excited and asked questions a=
ll the
way into town, without getting answers that told her anything. She was left at home to =
play
with the new baby, and deligh=
t her
mother's eyes, while Aunt Jo went off shopping. When she came back with all sorts of qu=
eer
parcels in corners of the car=
ry-all,
Daisy was so full of curiosity that she wanted to go back to Plumfield at once. But her aunt =
would
not be hurried, and made a lo=
ng
call in mamma's room, sitting on the floor with baby in her lap, making Mrs. Brooke laugh at t=
he
pranks of the boys, and all s=
orts
of droll nonsense.
How her aunt told the secret Daisy could n=
ot
imagine, but her mother evide=
ntly
knew it, for she said, as she tied on the little bonnet and kissed the rosy little =
face
inside, "Be a good child, my =
span>Daisy,
and learn the nice new play aunty has got for you. It's a most useful and interesting one, a=
nd it
is very kind of her to play it with
you, because she does not like it very well herself."
This last speech made the two ladies laugh
heartily, and increased Daisy=
's
bewilderment. As they drove away something rattled in the back of the carriage.
"What's that?" asked Daisy, pric=
king
up her ears.
"The new play," answered Mrs. Jo,
solemnly.
"What is it made of?" cried Dais=
y.
"Iron, tin, wood, brass, sugar, salt,
coal, and a hundred other thi=
ngs."
"How strange! What color is it?"=
"All sorts of colors."
"Is it large?"
"Part of it is, and a part isn't.&quo=
t;
"Did I ever see one?"
"Ever so many, but never one so nice =
as
this."
"Oh! what can it be? I can't wait. Wh=
en
shall I see it?" and Daisy bounced
up and down with impatience. <=
/span>
"To-morrow morning, after lessons.&qu=
ot;
"Is it for the boys, too?"
"No, all for you and Bess. The boys w=
ill
like to see it, and want to p=
lay
one part of it. But you can do as you like about letting them."
"I'll let Demi, if he wants to."=
"No fear that they won't all want to,
especially Stuffy," and Mrs. =
span>Bhaer's
eyes twinkled more than ever as she patted a queer knobby bundle in her lap.
"Let me feel just once," prayed
Daisy.
"Not a feel; you'd guess in a minute =
and
spoil the fun."
Daisy groaned and then smiled all over her
face, for through a little ho=
le in
the paper she caught a glimpse of something bright.
"How can I wait so long? Couldn't I s=
ee
it today?"
"Oh dear, no! It has got to be arrang=
ed,
and ever so many parts fixed =
in
their places. I promised Uncle Teddy that you shouldn't see it till it was all in apple-pie
order."
"If uncle knows about it then it must=
be
splendid!" cried Daisy, =
clapping
her hands; for this kind, rich, jolly uncle of hers was as good as a fairy godmother to the
children, and was always plan=
ning
merry surprises, pretty gifts, and droll amusements for them.
"Yes; Teddy went and bought it with m=
e,
and we had such fun in the sh=
op
choosing the different parts. He would have everything fine and large, and my little plan=
got
regularly splendid when he to=
ok
hold. You must give him your very best kiss when he comes, for he is the kindest uncle that e=
ver
went and bought a charming li=
ttle
coo Bless me! I nearly told you what it was!" and Mrs. Bhaer cut that most interesting word sho=
rt off
in the middle, and began to l=
ook
over her bills, as if afraid she would let the cat out of the bag if she talked any more. Daisy fold=
ed her
hands with an air of resignat=
ion,
and sat quite still trying to think what play had a "coo" in it.
When they got home she eyed every bundle t=
hat
was taken out, and one large =
heavy
one, which Franz took straight upstairs and hid in the nursery, filled her with amaze=
ment and
curiosity. Something very
mysterious went on up there that afternoon, for Franz was hammering, and Asia trotting up and
down, and Aunt Jo flying arou=
nd
like a will-o'-the-wisp, with all sort of things under her apron, while little Ted, who was t=
he only
child admitted, because he co=
uldn't
talk plain, babbled and laughed, and tried to tell what the "sumpin pitty" was. =
All this made Daisy half-wild, and her
excitement spread among the b=
oys,
who quite overwhelmed Mother Bhaer with offers of assistance, which she declined by
quoting their own words to Da=
isy:
"Girls can't play with boys. This is =
for
Daisy, and Bess, and me, so we
don't want you." Whereupon the young gentlemen meekly retired, and invited Daisy to a ga=
me of
marbles, horse, football, any=
thing
she liked, with a sudden warmth and politeness which astonished her innocent little sou=
l.
Thanks to these attentions, she got through
the afternoon, went early to =
bed,
and next morning did her lessons with an energy which made Uncle Fritz wish that a=
new
game could be invented every =
day.
Quite a thrill pervaded the school-room when Daisy was dismissed at eleven o'clock, for
everyone knew that now she was going
to have the new and mysterious play.
Many eyes followed her as she ran away, and
Demi's mind was so distracted=
by
this event that when Franz asked him where the desert of Sahara was, he mournfully
replied, "In the nursery," and&n=
bsp;
the whole school laughed at him.
"Aunt Jo, I've done all my lessons, a=
nd I
can't wait one single minute
more!" cried Daisy, flying into Mrs. Bhaer's room.
"It's all ready, come on;" and
tucking Ted under one arm, and her <=
/span>workbasket
under the other, Aunt Jo promptly led the way upstairs.
"I don't see anything," said Dai=
sy,
staring about her as she got =
inside
the nursery door.
"Do you hear anything?" asked Au=
nt
Jo, catching Ted back by his =
little
frock as he was making straight for one side of the room.
Daisy did hear an odd crackling, and then a
purry little sound as of a ke=
ttle
singing. These noises came from behind a curtain drawn before a deep bay window. Daisy sn=
atched
it back, gave one joyful,
"Oh!" and then stood gazing with delight at what do you think?
A wide seat ran round the three sides of t=
he
window; on one side hung and =
stood
all sorts of little pots and pans, gridirons and skillets; on the other side a small
dinner and tea set; and on the middle
part a cooking-stove. Not a tin one, that was of no use, but a real iron stove, big enough to c=
ook
for a large family of very hu=
ngry
dolls. But the best of it was that a real fire burned in it, real steam came out of the nose of the =
little
tea-kettle, and the lid of the little
boiler actually danced a jig, the water inside bubbled so hard. A pane of glass had been taken out=
and
replaced by a sheet of tin, w=
ith a
hole for the small funnel, and real smoke went sailing away outside so naturally, that it did =
one's
heart good to see it. The box of
wood with a hod of charcoal stood near by; just above hung dust-pan, brush and broom; a little
market basket was on the low =
table
at which Daisy used to play, and over the back of her little chair hung a white apron with a bi=
b, and
a droll mob cap. The sun shon=
e in
as if he enjoyed the fun, the little stove roared beautifully, the kettle steamed, the new tins
sparkled on the walls, the pretty =
span>china
stood in tempting rows, and it was altogether as cheery and complete a kitchen as any child co=
uld
desire.
Daisy stood quite still after the first gl=
ad
"Oh!" but her eyes went =
span>quickly
from one charming object to another, brightening as they looked, till they came to Aunt Jo's
merry face; there they stopped as
the happy little girl hugged her, saying gratefully:
"Oh aunty, it's a splendid new play! =
Can
I really cook at the dear sto=
ve,
and have parties and mess, and sweep, and make fires that truly burn? I like it so much! Wha=
t made
you think of it?" =
"Your liking to make gingersnaps with
Asia made me think of it," said
Mrs. Bhaer, holding Daisy, who frisked as if she would fly. "I knew Asia wouldn't let you mess in=
her
kitchen very often, and it wo=
uldn't
be safe at this fire up here, so I thought I'd see if I could find a little stove for you, and t=
each
you to cook; that would be fu=
n, and
useful too. So I travelled round among the toy shops, but everything large cost too much and=
I was
thinking I should have to giv=
e it
up, when I met Uncle Teddy. As soon as he knew what I was about, he said he wanted to he=
lp,
and insisted on buying the bi=
ggest
toy stove we could find. I scolded, but he only laughed, and teased me about my cooking when we=
were
young, and said I must teach =
Bess
as well as you, and went on buying all sorts of nice little things for my 'cooking clas=
s' as
he called it."
"I'm so glad you met him!" said
Daisy, as Mrs. Jo stopped to laugh <=
/span>at
the memory of the funny time she had with Uncle Teddy.
"You must study hard and learn to make
all kinds of things, for he s=
ays he
shall come out to tea very often, and expects something uncommonly nice."
"It's the sweetest, dearest kitchen in
the world, and I'd rather study with
it than do anything else. Can't I learn pies, and cake, and macaroni, and everything?" cr=
ied
Daisy, dancing round the room with
a new saucepan in one hand and the tiny poker in the other.
"All in good time. This is to be a us=
eful
play, I am to help you, and y=
ou are
to be my cook, so I shall tell you what to do, and show you how. Then we shall have things fit=
to
eat, and you will be really l=
earning
how to cook on a small scale. I'll call you Sally, and say you are a new girl just come,"
added Mrs. Jo, settling down to work,
while Teddy sat on the floor sucking his thumb, and staring at the stove as if it was a live t=
hing,
whose appearance deeply inter=
ested
him.
"That will be so lovely! What shall I=
do
first?" asked Sally, with such
a happy face and willing air that Aunt Jo wished all new cooks were half as pretty and plea=
sant.
"First of all, put on this clean cap =
and
apron. I am rather old-fashio=
ned,
and I like my cook to be very tidy."
Sally tucked her curly hair into the round
cap, and put on the apron wit=
hout a
murmur, though usually she rebelled against bibs.
"Now, you can put things in order, and
wash up the new china. The ol=
d set
needs washing also, for my last girl was apt to leave it in a sad state after a party."
Aunt Jo spoke quite soberly, but Sally
laughed, for she knew who the
untidy girl was who had left the cups sticky. Then she turned up her cuffs, and with a sigh of
satisfaction began to stir about her
kitchen, having little raptures now and then over the "sweet
rolling pin," the
"darling dish-tub," or the "cunning pepper-pot."
"Now, Sally, take your basket and go =
to
market; here is the list of t=
hings
I want for dinner," said Mrs. Jo, giving her a bit of paper when the dishes were all in order.=
"Where is the market?" asked Dai=
sy,
thinking that the new play got more
and more interesting every minute.
"Asia is the market."
Away went Sally, causing another stir in t=
he
schoolroom as she passed the =
door
in her new costume, and whispered to Demi, with a face full of delight, "It's a perfectly splendid
play!"
Old Asia enjoyed the joke as much as Daisy,
and laughed jollily as the li=
ttle
girl came flying into the room with her cap all on one side, the lids of her basket rattl=
ing
like castanets and looking like a =
span>very
crazy little cook.
"Mrs. Aunt Jo wants these things, and=
I
must have them right away,&qu=
ot;
said Daisy, importantly.
'Let's see, honey; here's two pounds of st=
eak,
potatoes, squash, apples, bre=
ad,
and butter. The meat ain't come yet; when it does I'll send it up. The other things are a=
ll
handy."
Then Asia packed one potato, one apple, a =
bit
of squash, a little pat of bu=
tter,
and a roll, into the basket, telling Sally to be on the watch for the butcher's boy, becau=
se he
sometimes played tricks.
"Who is he?" and Daisy hoped it
would be Demi.
"You'll see," was all Asia would
say; and Sally went off in great spirits,
singing a verse from dear Mary Howitt's sweet story in rhyme:
"Away went little Mabel,
With the wheaten cake so fine,
The new-made pot of butter,
And the little flask of wine."
"Put everything but the apple into the
store-closet for the present,"
said Mrs. Jo, when the cook got home.
There was a cupboard under the middle shel=
f,
and on opening the door fresh
delights appeared. One half was evidently the cellar, for wood, coal, and kindlings were pil=
ed
there. The other half was full of
little jars, boxes, and all sorts of droll contrivances for holding small quantities of flour, meal, s=
ugar,
salt, and other household sto=
res. A
pot of jam was there, a little tin box of gingerbread, a cologne bottle full of currant win=
e, and
a tiny canister of tea. But t=
he
crowning charm was two doll's pans of new milk, with cream actually rising on it, and a wee s=
kimmer
all ready to skim it with. Da=
isy
clasped her hands at this delicious spectacle, and wanted to skim it immediately. But Aunt Jo s=
aid:
"Not yet; you will want the cream to =
eat
on your apple pie at dinner, =
and
must not disturb it till then."
"Am I going to have pie?" cried
Daisy, hardly believing that such =
span>bliss
could be in store for her.
"Yes; if your oven does well we will =
have
two pies, one apple and one
strawberry," said Mrs. Jo, who was nearly as much interested in the new play as Daisy herself. =
"Oh, what next?" asked Sally, all
impatience to begin.
"Shut the lower draught of the stove,=
so
that the oven may heat. Then =
wash
your hands and get out the flour, sugar, salt, butter, and cinnamon. See if the pie-board is =
clean,
and pare your apple ready to =
put
in."
Daisy got things together with as little n= oise and spilling as could be expe= cted, from so young a cook. <= o:p>
"I really don't know how to measure f=
or
such tiny pies; I must guess =
at it,
and if these don't succeed, we must try again," said Mrs. Jo, looking rather perplexed,=
and
very much amused with the sma=
ll
concern before her. "Take that little pan full of flour, put in a pinch of salt, and then rub in as =
much
butter as will go on that pla=
te.
Always remember to put your dry things together first, and then the wet. It mixes better so.&=
quot;
"I know how; I saw Asia do it. Don't I
butter the pie plates too? Sh=
e did,
the first thing," said Daisy, whisking the flour about at a great rate.
"Quite right! I do believe you have a
gift for cooking, you take to it so
cleverly," said Aunt Jo, approvingly. "Now a dash of cold water,<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> just enough to wet it; then scatte=
r some
flour on the board, work in a
little, and roll the paste out; yes, that's the way. Now put dabs of butter all over it, and roll it out
again. We won't have our pastry very
rich, or the dolls will get dyspeptic."
Daisy laughed at the idea, and scattered t=
he
dabs with a liberal hand. The=
n she
rolled and rolled with her delightful little pin, and having got her paste ready proceed=
ed to
cover the plates with it. Nex=
t the
apple was sliced in, sugar and cinnamon lavishly sprinkled over it, and then the top
crust put on with breathless =
care.
"I always wanted to cut them round, a=
nd
Asia never would let me. How =
nice
it is to do it all my ownty donty self!" said Daisy, as the little knife went clipping round t=
he
doll's plate poised on her hand.
All cooks, even the best, meet with mishaps
sometimes, and Sally's first =
one
occurred then, for the knife went so fast that the plate slipped, turned a somersault in th=
e air,
and landed the dear little pie
upside down on the floor. Sally screamed, Mrs. Jo laughed, Teddy scrambled to get it, and for=
a
moment confusion reigned in t=
he new
kitchen.
"It didn't spill or break, because I
pinched the edges together so hard;
it isn't hurt a bit, so I'll prick holes in it, and then it will be ready," said Sally, picking u=
p the
capsized treasure and putting it into
shape with a child-like disregard of the dust it had gathered in its fall.
"My new cook has a good temper, I see,
and that is such a comfort,&q=
uot;
said Mrs. Jo. "Now open the jar of strawberry jam, fill the uncovered pie, and put some st=
rips
of paste over the top as Asia
does."
"I'll make a D in the middle, and have
zigzags all round, that will =
be so
interesting when I come to eat it," said Sally, loading the pie with quirls and flourishes that wo=
uld
have driven a real pastry cook
wild. "Now I put them in!" she exclaimed; when the last grimy knob had been carefully plan=
ted in
the red field of jam, and wit=
h an
air of triumph she shut them into the little oven.
"Clear up your things; a good cook ne=
ver
lets her utensils collect. Th=
en
pare your squash and potatoes."
"There is only one potato," gigg=
led
Sally.
"Cut it in four pieces, so it will go
into the little kettle, and put the
bits into cold water till it is time to cook them."
"Do I soak the squash too?"
"No, indeed! Just pare it and cut it =
up,
and put in into the steamer o=
ver
the pot. It is drier so, though it takes longer to cook."
Here a scratching at the door caused Sally=
to
run and open it, when Kit app=
eared
with a covered basket in his mouth.
"Here's the butcher boy!" cried
Daisy, much tickled at the idea, as
she relieved him of his load, whereat he licked his lips and began to beg, evidently thinking that it=
was
his own dinner, for he often =
carried
it to his master in that way. Being undeceived, he departed in great wrath and barked all the =
way
downstairs, to ease his wound=
ed
feelings.
In the basket were two bits of steak (doll=
's
pounds), a baked pear, a smal=
l cake,
and paper with them on which Asia had scrawled, "For Missy's lunch, if her cookin' don'=
t turn
out well."
"I don't want any of her old pears and
things; my cooking will turn =
out
well, and I'll have a splendid dinner; see if I don't!" cried Daisy, indignantly.
"We may like them if company should c=
ome.
It is always well to have som=
ething
in the storeroom," said Aunt Jo, who had been taught this valuable fact by a ser=
ies of
domestic panics.
"Me is hundry," announced Teddy,=
who
began to think what with so m=
uch
cooking going on it was about time for somebody to eat something. His mother gave him her
workbasket to rummage, hoping=
to
keep him quiet till dinner was ready, and returned to her housekeeping.
"Put on your vegetables, set the tabl=
e,
and then have some coals kind=
ling
ready for the steak."
What a thing it was to see the potatoes
bobbing about in the little p=
ot; to
peep at the squash getting soft so fast in the tiny steamer; to whisk open the oven door every five
minutes to see how the pies g=
ot on,
and at last when the coals were red and glowing, to put two real steaks on a finger-long gridi=
ron
and proudly turn them with a =
fork.
The potatoes were done first, and no wonder, for they had boiled frantically all the while. =
The
were pounded up with a little pestle,
had much butter and no salt put in (cook forgot it in the excitement of the moment), then it=
was
made into a mound in a gay red
dish, smoothed over with a knife dipped in milk, and put in the oven to brown.
So absorbed in these last performances had
Sally been, that she forgot h=
er
pastry till she opened the door to put in the potato, then a wail arose, for alas! alas! the =
little
pies were burnt black! =
"Oh, my pies! My darling pies! They a=
re
all spoilt!" cried poor =
Sally,
wringing her dirty little hands as she surveyed the ruin of her work. The tart was especially path=
etic,
for the quirls and zigzags st=
uck up
in all directions from the blackened jelly, like the walls and chimney of a house after a fir=
e.
"Dear, dear, I forgot to remind you to
take them out; it's just my l=
uck,"
said Aunt Jo, remorsefully. "Don't cry, darling, it was my fault; we'll try again after
dinner," she added, as a great tear&n=
bsp;
dropped from Sally's eyes and sizzled on the hot ruins of the tart. =
More would have followed, if the steak had=
not
blazed up just then, and so
occupied the attention of cook, that she quickly forgot the lost pastry.
"Put the meat-dish and your own plates
down to warm, while you mash =
the
squash with butter, salt, and a little pepper on the top," said Mrs. Jo, devoutly hoping that=
the
dinner would meet with no fur=
ther
disasters.
The "cunning pepper-pot" soothed
Sally's feelings, and she dished up
her squash in fine style. The dinner was safely put upon the table; the six dolls were seated t=
hree
on a side; Teddy took the bot=
tom,
and Sally the top. When all were settled, it was a most imposing spectacle, for one doll w=
as in
full ball costume, another in=
her
night-gown; Jerry, the worsted boy, wore his red winter suit, while Annabella, the noseless darl=
ing,
was airily attired in nothing but
her own kid skin. Teddy, as father of the family, behaved with great propriety, for he smilingly
devoured everything offered him, and
did not find a single fault. Daisy beamed upon her company like the weary, warm, but hospitab=
le
hostess so often to be seen at larger
tables than this, and did the honors with an air of innocent satisfaction, which we do not ofte=
n see
elsewhere.
The steak was so tough that the little
carving-knife would not cut i=
t; the
potato did not go round, and the squash was very lumpy; but the guests appeared politely uncon=
scious
of these trifles; and the mas=
ter
and mistress of the house cleared the table with appetites that anyone might envy them. The j=
oy of
skimming a jug-full of cream
mitigated the anguish felt for the loss of the pies, and Asia's despised cake proved a treasure in=
the
way of dessert.
"That is the nicest lunch I ever had;
can't I do it every day?" asked
Daisy as she scraped up and ate the leavings all round.
"You can cook things every day after
lessons, but I prefer that you should
eat your dishes at your regular meals, and only have a bit of gingerbread for lunch. To-day, bei=
ng the
first time, I don't mind, but=
we
must keep our rules. This afternoon you can make something for tea if you like,&quo=
t;
said Mrs. Jo, who had enjoyed the =
span>dinner-party
very much, though no one had invited her to partake.
"Do let me make flapjacks for Demi, he
loves them so, and it's such =
fun to
turn them and put sugar in between," cried Daisy, tenderly wiping a yellow stain off
Annabella's broken nose, for =
Bella
had refused to eat squash when it was pressed upon her as good for "lumatism," a
complaint which it is no wonder she
suffered from, considering the lightness of her attire.
"But if you give Demi goodies, all the
others will expect some also,=
and
then you will have your hands full."
"Couldn't I have Demi come up to tea
alone just this one time? And=
after
that I could cook things for the others if they were good," proposed Daisy, with a
sudden inspiration.
"That is a capital idea, Posy! We will
make your little messes rewar=
ds for
the good boys, and I don't know one among them who would not like something nice to e=
at
more than almost anything els=
e. If
little men are like big ones, good cooking will touch their hearts and soothe their tempers
delightfully," added Aunt Jo, with&nb=
sp;
a merry nod toward the door, where stood Papa Bhaer, surveying the scene with a face full of amus=
ement.
"That last hit was for me, sharp woma=
n. I
accept it, for it is true; bu=
t if I
had married thee for thy cooking, heart's dearest, I should have fared badly all these years,&=
quot;
answered the professor, laughing as
he tossed Teddy, who became quite apoplectic in his endeavors to describe the feast he had just
enjoyed.
Daisy proudly showed her kitchen, and rash= ly promised Uncle Fritz as many flapjacks as he could eat. She was just telling about the new rewards when the boys, hea= ded by Demi, burst into the room snu= ffing the air like a pack of hungry hounds, for school was out, dinner was not ready, and the fragrance of Daisy's steak led them straight to the spot. <= o:p>
A prouder little damsel was never seen than
Sally as she displayed her
treasures and told the lads what was in store for them. Several rather scoffed at the idea of her
cooking anything fit to eat, but Stuffy's
heart was won at once. Nat and Demi had firm faith in her skill, and the others said they wo=
uld
wait and see. All admired the kitchen,
however, and examined the stove with deep interest. Demi offered to buy the boiler on =
the
spot, to be used in a steam-e=
ngine
which he was constructing; and Ned declared that the best and biggest saucepan was =
just
the thing to melt his lead in when
he ran bullets, hatchets, and such trifles.
Daisy looked so alarmed at these proposals,
that Mrs. Jo then and there m=
ade
and proclaimed a law that no boy should touch, use, or even approach the sacred stove wit=
hout a
special permit from the owner
thereof. This increased its value immensely in the eyes of the gentlemen, especially as any
infringement of the law would be punished
by forfeiture of all right to partake of the delicacies promised to the virtuous.
At this point the bell rang, and the entire
population went down to dinne=
r,
which meal was enlivened by each of the boys giving Daisy a list of things he would li=
ke to
have cooked for him as fast a=
s he
earned them. Daisy, whose faith in her stove was unlimited, promised everything, if Aunt Jo wo=
uld
tell her how to make them. Th=
is
suggestion rather alarmed Mrs. Jo, for some of the dishes were quite beyond her skill
wedding-cake, for instance, bull's-eye&nbs=
p;
candy; and cabbage soup with herrings and cherries in it, which Mr. Bhaer proposed as his favorite=
, and
immediately reduced his wife =
to
despair, for German cookery was beyond her.
Daisy wanted to begin again the minute din=
ner
was done, but she was only al=
lowed
to clear up, fill the kettle ready for tea, and wash out her apron, which looked as if =
she
had a Christmas feast. She wa=
s then
sent out to play till five o'clock, for Uncle Fritz said that too much study, even at cooking st=
oves,
was bad for little minds and
bodies, and Aunt Jo knew by long experience how soon new toys lose their charm if they are =
not
prudently used.
Everyone was very kind to Daisy that
afternoon. Tommy promised her=
the
first fruits of his garden, though the only visible crop just then was pigweed; Nat offered to s=
upply
her with wood, free of charge;
Stuffy quite worshipped her; Ned immediately fell to work on a little refrigerator for her
kitchen; and Demi, with a pun=
ctuality
beautiful to see in one so young, escorted her to the nursery just as the clock struck f=
ive.
It was not time for the party to begin,
but he begged so hard to come in and help that he was allowed privileges few visitors en=
joy,
for he kindled the fire, ran =
errands,
and watched the progress of his supper with intense interest. Mrs. Jo directed the aff=
air as
she came and went, being very=
busy
putting up clean curtains all over the house.
"Ask Asia for a cup of sour cream, th=
en
your cakes will be light with=
out
much soda, which I don't like," was the first order.
Demi tore downstairs, and returned with the
cream, also a puckered-up fac=
e, for
he had tasted it on his way, and found it so sour that he predicted the cakes w=
ould
be uneatable. Mrs. Jo took th=
is
occasion to deliver a short lecture from the step-ladder on the chemical properties of soda, to whi=
ch
Daisy did not listen, but Dem=
i did,
and understood it, as he proved by the brief but comprehensive reply:
"Yes, I see, soda turns sour things
sweet, and the fizzling up makes them
light. Let's see you do it, Daisy."
"Fill that bowl nearly full of flour =
and
add a little salt to it," continued
Mrs. Jo.
"Oh dear, everything has to have salt=
in
it, seems to me," said S=
ally,
who was tired of opening the pill-box in which it was kept.
"Salt is like good-humor, and nearly
every thing is better for a p=
inch
of it, Posy," and Uncle Fritz stopped as he passed, hammer in hand, to drive up two or three =
nails
for Sally's little pans to hang on.
"You are not invited to tea, but I'll
give you some cakes, and I wo=
n't be
cross," said Daisy, putting up her floury little face to thank him with a kiss.
"Fritz, you must not interrupt my coo=
king
class, or I'll come in and mo=
ralize
when you are teaching Latin. How would you like that?" said Mrs. Jo, throwing a great chi=
ntz
curtain down on his head.
"Very much, try it and see," and=
the
amiable Father Bhaer went sin=
ging
and tapping about the house like a mammoth woodpecker.
"Put the soda into the cream, and whe=
n it
'fizzles,' as Demi says, stir=
it
into the flour, and beat it up as hard as ever you can. Have your griddle hot, butter it well, =
and
then fry away till I come back,"
and Aunt Jo vanished also.
Such a clatter as the little spoon made, a=
nd
such a beating as the batter =
got,
it quite foamed, I assure you; and when Daisy poured some on to the griddle, it rose li=
ke
magic into a puffy flapjack that made
Demi's mouth water. To be sure, the first one stuck and scorched, because she forgot the b=
utter,
but after that first failure =
all
went well, and six capital little cakes were safely landed in a dish.
"I think I like maple-syrup better th=
an
sugar," said Demi, from his arm-chair
where he had settled himself after setting the table in a new and peculiar manner.
"Then go and ask Asia for some,"
answered Daisy, going into the bath-room
to wash her hands.
While the nursery was empty something drea=
dful
happened. You see, Kit had be=
en
feeling hurt all day because he had carried meat safely and yet got none to pay him=
. He
was not a bad dog, but he had=
his
little faults like the rest of us, and could not always resist temptation. Happening to stroll in=
to the
nursery at that moment, he sm=
elt
the cakes, saw them unguarded on the low table, and never stopping to think of consequences,=
swallowed
all six at one mouthful. I am=
glad
to say that they were very hot, and burned him so badly that he could not repress=
a
surprised yelp. Daisy heard it, ran
in, saw the empty dish, also the end of a yellow tail disappearing under the bed. Withou=
t a
word she seized that tail, pu=
lled
out the thief, and shook him till his ears flapped wildly, then bundled him down-stairs to the
shed, where he spent a lonely evening
in the coal-bin.
Cheered by the sympathy which Demi gave he= r, Daisy made another bowlful of batter, and fried a dozen cakes, which were even better than the others. Indee= d, Uncle Fritz after eating two = sent up word that he had never tasted any so nice, and every boy at the table below envied Demi at the flapjack party above. <= o:p>
It was a truly delightful supper, for the
little teapot lid only fell off three
times and the milk jug upset but once; the cakes floated in syrup, and the toast had a delicio=
us
beef-steak flavor, owing to c=
ook's
using the gridiron to make it on. Demi forgot philosophy, and stuffed like any carnal boy, w=
hile
Daisy planned sumptuous banqu=
ets,
and the dolls looked on smiling affably.
"Well, dearies, have you had a good
time?" asked Mrs. Jo, coming =
span>up
with Teddy on her shoulder. =
span>
"A very good time. I shall come again
soon," answered Demi, with emphasis.
"I'm afraid you have eaten too much, =
by
the look of that table."
"No, I haven't; I only ate fifteen ca=
kes,
and they were very little one=
s,"
protested Demi, who had kept his sister busy supplying his plate.
"They won't hurt him, they are so
nice," said Daisy, with such a
funny mixture of maternal fondness and housewifely pride that Aunt Jo could only smile and say: =
"Well, on the whole, the new game is a
success then?"
"I like it," said Demi, as if his
approval was all that was necessary.
"It is the dearest play ever made!&qu=
ot;
cried Daisy, hugging her little dish-tub
as she proposed to wash up the cups. "I just wish everybody had a sweet cooking stov=
e like
mine," she added, regard=
ing it
with affection.
"This play out to have a name," =
said
Demi, gravely removing the sy=
rup
from his countenance with his tongue.
"It has."
"Oh, what?" asked both children
eagerly.
"Well, I think we will call it
Pattypans," and Aunt Jo retired,
satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.
CHAPTER VI A FIRE BRAND<=
span
class=3DCharChar2>
"Please, ma'am, could I speak to you?=
It
is something very important,&=
quot;
said Nat, popping his head in at the door of Mrs. Bhaer's room.
It was the fifth head which had popped in
during the last half-hour; bu=
t Mrs.
Jo was used to it, so she looked up, and said, briskly,
"What is it, my lad?"
Nat came in, shut the door carefully behind
him, and said in an eager, an=
xious
tone,
"Dan has come."
"Who is Dan?"
"He's a boy I used to know when I fid=
dled
round the streets. He sold pa=
pers,
and he was kind to me, and I saw him the other day in town, and told him how nice it was=
here,
and he's come."
"But, my dear boy, that is rather a
sudden way to pay a visit."
"Oh, it isn't a visit; he wants to st=
ay
if you will let him!" said Nat
innocently.
"Well, I don't know about that,"
began Mrs. Bhaer, rather startled =
span>by
the coolness of the proposition.
"Why, I thought you liked to have poor
boys come and live with you, =
and be
kind to 'em as you were to me," said Nat, looking surprised and alarmed.
"So I do, but I like to know something
about them first. I have to c=
hoose
them, because there are so many. I have not room for all. I wish I had."
"I told him to come because I thought
you'd like it, but if there isn't =
span>room
he can go away again," said Nat, sorrowfully.
The boy's confidence in her hospitality
touched Mrs. Bhaer, and she c=
ould
not find the heart to disappoint his hope, and spoil his kind little plan, so she said,
"Tell me about this Dan."
"I don't know any thing, only he hasn=
't
got any folks, and he's poor, and
he was good to me, so I'd like to be good to him if I could."
"Excellent reasons every one; but rea=
lly,
Nat, the house is full, and I=
don't
know where I could put him," said Mrs. Bhaer, more and more inclined to prove herself the=
haven
of refuge he seemed to think =
her.
"He could have my bed, and I could sl=
eep
in the barn. It isn't cold no=
w, and
I don't mind, I used to sleep anywhere with father," said Nat, eagerly.
Something in his speech and face made Mrs.=
Jo
put her hand on his shoulder,=
and
say in her kindest tone:
"Bring in your friend, Nat; I think we
must find room for him without
giving him your place." <=
/span>
Nat joyfully ran off, and soon returned
followed by a most unpreposse=
ssing
boy, who slouched in and stood looking about him, with a half bold, half sullen=
look,
which made Mrs. Bhaer say to
herself, after one glance,
"A bad specimen, I am afraid." <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"This is Dan," said Nat, present=
ing
him as if sure of his welcome.
"Nat tells me you would like to come =
and
stay with us," began Mrs=
. Jo,
in a friendly tone.
"Yes," was the gruff reply.
"Have you no friends to take care of
you?"
"No."
"Say, 'No, ma'am,' " whispered N=
at.
"Shan't neither," muttered Dan. =
"How old are you?"
"About fourteen."
"You look older. What can you do?&quo=
t;
"'Most anything."
"If you stay here we shall want you t=
o do
as the others do, work and st=
udy as
well as play. Are you willing to agree to that?"
"Don't mind trying."
"Well, you can stay a few days, and we
will see how we get on togeth=
er.
Take him out, Nat, and amuse him till Mr. Bhaer comes home, when we will settle about the
matter," said Mrs. Jo, finding
it rather difficult to get on with this cool young person, who fixed=
his big black eyes on her with a h=
ard,
suspicious expression, sorrow=
fully
unboyish.
"Come on, Nat," he said, and
slouched out again.
"Thank you, ma'am," added Nat, a=
s he
followed him, feeling without=
quite
understanding the difference in the welcome given to him and to his ungracious friend. =
"The fellows are having a circus out =
in
the barn; don't you want to c=
ome
and see it?" he asked, as they came down the wide steps on to the lawn.
"Are they big fellows?" said Dan=
.
"No; the big ones are gone fishing.&q=
uot;
"Fire away, then," said Dan.
Nat led him to the great barn and introduc=
ed
him to his set, who were disp=
orting
themselves among the half-empty lofts. A large circle was marked out with hay on =
the
wide floor, and in the middle=
stood
Demi with a long whip, while Tommy, mounted on the much-enduring Toby, pranced ab=
out
the circle playing being a mo=
nkey.
"You must pay a pin apiece, or you ca= n't see the show," said Stuf= fy, who stood by the wheelbarrow in which sat the band, consisting of a pocket-comb blown = upon by Ned, and a toy drum beaten spasmodically by Rob. <= o:p>
"He's company, so I'll pay for
both," said Nat, handsomely, as he&nb=
sp;
stuck two crooked pins in the dried mushroom which served as money-box.
With a nod to the company they seated
themselves on a couple of boa=
rds,
and the performance went on. After the monkey act, Ned gave them a fine specimen of his a=
gility
by jumping over an old chair,=
and
running up and down ladders, sailor fashion. Then Demi danced a jig with a gravity beauti=
ful to
behold. Nat was called upon to
wrestle with Stuffy, and speedily laid that stout youth upon the ground. After this, Tommy prou=
dly
advanced to turn a somersault=
, an
accomplishment which he had acquired by painful perseverance, practising in privat=
e till
every joint of his little frame was
black and blue. His feats were received with great applause, and he was about to retire, flushe=
d with
pride and a rush of blood to =
the
head, when a scornful voice in the audience was heard to say,
"Ho! that ain't any thing!"
"Say that again, will you?" and
Tommy bristled up like an angry turkey-cock.
"Do you want to fight?" said Dan,
promptly descending from the =
barrel
and doubling up his fists in a business-like manner.
"No, I don't;" and the candid Th=
omas
retired a step, rather taken =
aback
by the proposition.
"Fighting isn't allowed!" cried = the others, much excited. <= o:p>
"You're a nice lot," sneered Dan=
.
"Come, if you don't behave, you shan't
stay," said Nat, firing up at <=
/span>that
insult to his friends. =
"I'd like to see him do better than I
did, that's all," observed Tommy,
with a swagger.
"Clear the way, then," and witho=
ut
the slightest preparation Dan turned
three somersaults one after the other and came up on his feet.
"You can't beat that, Tom; you always=
hit
your head and tumble flat,&qu=
ot;
said Nat, pleased at his friend's success.
Before he could say any more the audience =
were
electrified by three more
somersaults backwards, and a short promenade on the hands, head down, feet up. This br=
ought
down the house, and Tommy joi=
ned in
the admiring cries which greeted the
accomplished gymnast as he righted himself, and looked at them with an air of calm superiority. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Do you think I could learn to do it
without its hurting me very m=
uch?"
Tom meekly asked, as he rubbed the elbows which still smarted after the last attempt.
"What will you give me if I'll teach
you?" said Dan.
"My new jack-knife; it's got five bla=
des,
and only one is broken."
"Give it here, then."
Tommy handed it over with an affectionate =
look
at its smooth handle. Dan exa=
mined
it carefully, then putting it into his pocket, walked off, saying with a wink,
"Keep it up till you learn, that's
all."
A howl of wrath from Tommy was followed by=
a
general uproar, which did not
subside till Dan, finding himself in a minority, proposed that they should play
stick-knife, and whichever won should
have the treasure. Tommy agreed, and the game was played in a circle of excited faces, whic=
h all
wore an expression of satisfa=
ction,
when Tommy won and secured the knife in the depth of his safest pocket.
"You come off with me, and I'll show =
you
round," said Nat, feeling that
he must have a little serious conversation with his friend in private.
What passed between them no one knew, but =
when
they appeared again, Dan was =
more
respectful to every one, though still gruff in his speech, and rough in his manne=
r; and
what else could be expected o=
f the
poor lad who had been knocking about the world all his short life with no one to =
teach
him any better?
The boys had decided that they did not like
him, and so they left him to =
Nat,
who soon felt rather oppressed by the responsibility, but too kind-hearted to desert him=
.
Tommy, however, felt that in spite of the
jack-knife transaction, there=
was a
bond of sympathy between them, and longed to return to the interesting subject of
somersaults. He soon found an opportunity,
for Dan, seeing how much he admired him, grew more amiable, and by the end of the
first week was quite intimate with
the lively Tom.
Mr. Bhaer, when he heard the story and saw
Dan, shook his head, but only=
said
quietly,
"The experiment may cost us something,
but we will try it."
If Dan felt any gratitude for his protecti=
on,
he did not show it, and took
without thanks all that was give him. He was ignorant, but very quick to learn when he chose;=
had
sharp eyes to watch what went=
on
about him; a saucy tongue, rough manners, and a temper that was fierce and sullen by turn=
s. He
played with all his might, and
played well at almost all the games. He was silent and gruff before grown people, and only now =
and
then was thoroughly sociable =
among
the lads. Few of them really liked him, but few could help admiring his courage and
strength, for nothing daunted him,
and he knocked tall Franz flat on one occasion with an ease that caused all the others to keep=
at a
respectful distance from his =
fists.
Mr. Bhaer watched him silently, and did his best to tame the "Wild Boy," as they call=
ed
him, but in private the worthy man <=
/span>shook
his head, and said soberly, "I hope the experiment will turn out well, but I am a little afraid=
it
may cost too much."
Mrs. Bhaer lost her patience with him half=
a
dozen times a day, yet never =
gave
him up, and always insisted that there was something good in the lad, after all; for he=
was
kinder to animals than to peo=
ple,
he liked to rove about in the woods, and, best of all, little Ted was fond of him. What the secr=
et was
no one could discover, but Ba=
by
took to him at once gabbled and crowed whenever he saw him preferred his strong back =
to
ride on to any of the others =
and
called him "My Danny" out of his own little head. Teddy was the only creature to whom Dan show=
ed an
affection, and this was only
manifested when he thought no one else would see it; but mothers' eyes are quick, and mothe=
rly
hearts instinctively divine w=
ho
love their babies. So Mrs. Jo soon saw and felt that there was a soft spot in rough Dan, and bide=
d her
time to touch and win him.
But an unexpected and decidedly alarming e=
vent
upset all their plans, and ba=
nished
Dan from Plumfield.
Tommy, Nat, and Demi began by patronizing =
Dan,
because the other lads rather
slighted him; but soon they each felt there was a certain fascination about the bad =
boy,
and from looking down upon hi=
m they
came to looking up, each for a different reason. Tommy admired his skill and courage; Nat=
was
grateful for past kindness; a=
nd
Demi regarded him as a sort of animated story book, for when he chose Dan could tell his advent=
ures
in a most interesting way. It pleased
Dan to have the three favorites like him, and he exerted himself to be agreeable, which was=
the
secret of his success. =
The Bhaers were surprised, but hoped the l=
ads
would have a good influence o=
ver
Dan, and waited with some anxiety, trusting that no harm would come of it.
Dan felt they did not quite trust him, and
never showed them his best si=
de,
but took a wilful pleasure in trying their patience and thwarting their hopes as far as he
dared.
Mr. Bhaer did not approve of fighting, and=
did
not think it a proof of either
manliness or courage for two lads to pommel one another for the amusement of the rest. All=
sorts
of hardy games and exercises =
were
encouraged, and the boys were expected to take hard knocks and tumbles without wh=
ining;
but black eyes and bloody nos=
es
given for the fun of it were forbidden as a foolish and a brutal play.
Dan laughed at this rule, and told such
exciting tales of his own val=
or,
and the many frays that he had been in, that some of the lads were fired with a desire to have a
regular good "mill."
"Don't tell, and I'll show you how,&q=
uot;
said Dan; and, getting half a dozen
of the lads together behind the barn, he gave them a lesson in boxing, which quite satisfied t=
he
ardor of most of them. Emil, =
however,
could not submit to be beaten by a fellow younger than himself, for Emil was past fourtee=
n and
a plucky fellow, so he challe=
nged
Dan to a fight. Dan accepted at once, and the others looked on with intense interest. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
What little bird carried the news to
head-quarters no one ever kne=
w,
but, in the very hottest of the fray, when Dan and Emil were fighting like a pair of young bull=
dogs,
and the others with fierce, e=
xcited
faces were cheering them on, Mr. Bhaer walked into the ring, plucked the combatants apart=
with
a strong hand, and said, in t=
he
voice they seldom heard,
"I can't allow this, boys! Stop it at
once; and never let me see it again.
I keep a school for boys, not for wild beasts. Look at each other and be ashamed of
yourselves."
"You let me go, and I'll knock him do=
wn
again," shouted Dan, spa=
rring
away in spite of the grip on his collar.
"Come on, come on, I ain't thrashed
yet!" cried Emil, who had been
down five times, but did not know when he was beaten.
"They are playing be gladdy
what-you-call-'ems, like the Romans,
Uncle Fritz," called out Demi, whose eyes were bigger than ever=
with the excitement of this new pa=
stime.
"They were a fine set of brutes; but =
we
have learned something since =
then,
I hope, and I cannot have you make my barn a Colosseum. Who proposed this?"
asked Mr. Bhaer.
"Dan," answered several voices. =
"Don't you know that it is
forbidden?"
"Yes," growled Dan, sullenly.
"Then why break the rule?"
"They'll all be molly-coddles, if they
don't know how to fight."
"Have you found Emil a molly-coddle? =
He
doesn't look much like one,&q=
uot;
and Mr. Bhaer brought the two face to face. Dan had a black eye, and his jacket was torn to ra=
gs,
but Emil's face was covered w=
ith
blood from a cut lip and a bruised nose, while a bump on his forehead was already as purple as a
plum. In spite of his wounds =
however,
he still glared upon his foe, and evidently panted to renew the fight.
"He'd make a first-rater if he was ta=
ught,"
said Dan, unable to withhold =
the
praise from the boy who made it necessary for him to do his best.
"He'll be taught to fence and box by =
and
by, and till then I think he =
will
do very well without any lessons in mauling. Go and wash your faces; and remember, Dan, if =
you
break any more of the rules a=
gain,
you will be sent away. That was the bargain; do your part and we will do ours."
The lads went off, and after a few more wo=
rds
to the spectators, Mr. Bhaer
followed to bind up the wounds of the young gladiators. Emil went to bed sick, and Dan was=
an
unpleasant spectacle for a we=
ek.
But the lawless lad had no thought of obey=
ing,
and soon transgressed again. =
One Saturday afternoon as a party of the b=
oys
went out to play, Tommy said,=
"Let's go down to the river, and cut a
lot of new fish-poles." <=
/span>
"Take Toby to drag them back, and one=
of
us can ride him down," p=
roposed
Stuffy, who hated to walk.
"That means you, I suppose; well, hur=
ry
up, lazy-bones," said Dan.
Away they went, and having got the poles w=
ere
about to go home, when Demi
unluckily said to Tommy, who was on Toby with a long rod in his hand,
"You look like the picture of the man=
in
the bull-fight, only you have=
n't
got a red cloth, or pretty clothes on."
"I'd like to see one; there's old
Buttercup in the big meadow, ride at
her, Tom, and see her run," proposed Dan, bent on mischief.
"No, you mustn't," began Demi, w=
ho
was learning to distrust Dan's propositions.
"Why not, little fuss-button?"
demanded Dan.
"I don't think Uncle Fritz would like
it."
"Did he ever say we must not have a
bull-fight?"
"No, I don't think he ever did,"
admitted Demi.
"Then hold your tongue. Drive on, Tom,
and here's a red rag to flap =
at the
old thing. I'll help you to stir her up," and over the wall went Dan, full of the new game, an=
d the
rest followed like a flock of
sheep; even Demi, who sat upon the bars, and watched the fun with interest.
Poor Buttercup was not in a very good mood,
for she had been lately beref=
t of
her calf, and mourned for the little thing most dismally. Just now she regarded all
mankind as her enemies (and I do
not blame her), so when the matadore came prancing towards her with the red handkerchief flyi=
ng at
the end of his long lance, she
threw up her head, and gave a most appropriate "Moo!" Tommy rode gallantly at her, and T=
oby
recognizing an old friend, was
quite willing to approach; but when the lance came down on her back with a loud whack, both c=
ow and
donkey were surprised and
disgusted. Toby back with a bray of remonstrance, and Buttercup lowered her horns angril=
y.
"At her again, Tom; she's jolly cross,
and will do it capitally!" called
Dan, coming up behind with another rod, while Jack and Ned followed his example.
Seeing herself thus beset, and treated with
such disrespect, Buttercup tr=
otted
round the field, getting more and more&nbs=
p;
bewildered and excited every moment, for whichever way she turned, there was a dreadful boy,
yelling and brandishing a new and
very disagreeable sort of whip. It was great fun for them, but real misery for her, till she lost
patience and turned the tables in =
span>the
most unexpected manner. All at once she wheeled short round, and charged full at her old friend=
Toby,
whose conduct cut her to the =
heart.
Poor slow Toby backed so precipitately that he tripped over a stone, and down went horse,
matadore, and all, in one ign=
ominious
heap, while distracted Buttercup took a surprising leap over the wall, and galloped w=
ildly
out of sight down the road. =
span>
"Catch her, stop her, head her off! r=
un,
boys, run!" shouted Dan, tearing
after her at his best pace, for she was Mr. Bhaer's pet Alderney, and if anything happened=
to
her, Dan feared it would be a=
ll
over with him. Such a running and racing and bawling and puffing as there was before she was
caught! The fish-poles were l=
eft
behind; Toby was trotted nearly off his legs in the chase; and every boy was red, breathless, and
scared. They found poor Butte=
rcup
at last in a flower garden, where she had taken refuge, worn out with the long run. Borrow=
ing a
rope for a halter, Dan led her
home, followed by a party of very sober young gentlemen, for the cow was in a sad state, having
strained her shoulder jumping, so
that she limped, her eyes looked wild, and her glossy coat was wet and muddy.
"You'll catch it this time, Dan,"
said Tommy, as he led the whe=
ezing
donkey beside the maltreated cow.
"So will you, for you helped." <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"We all did, but Demi," added Ja=
ck.
"He put it into our heads," said
Ned.
"I told you not to do it," cried
Demi, who was most broken-hearted =
span>at
poor Buttercup's state.
"Old Bhaer will send me off, I guess.
Don't care if he does," =
muttered
Dan, looking worried in spite of his words.
"We'll ask him not to, all of us,&quo=
t;
said Demi, and the others assented <=
/span>with
the exception of Stuffy, who cherished the hope that all the punishment might fall on one guilty
head. Dan only said, "Don't bother
about me;" but he never forgot it, even though he led the lads astray again, as soon as the
temptation came.
When Mr. Bhaer saw the animal, and heard t=
he
story, he said very little,
evidently fearing that he should say too much in the first moments of impatience. Buttercup w=
as
made comfortable in her stall=
, and
the boys sent to their rooms till supper-time. This brief respite gave them time to think the
matter over, to wonder what t=
he
penalty would be, and to try to imagine where Dan would be sent. He whistled briskly in his r=
oom, so
that no one should think he c=
ared a
bit; but while he waited to know his fate, the longing to stay grew stronger and stronger, t=
he
more he recalled the comfort =
and
kindness he had known here, the hardship and neglect he had felt elsewhere. He knew they tried=
to
help him, and at the bottom o=
f his
heart he was grateful, but his rough life had made him hard and careless, suspicious and wilfu=
l. He
hated restraint of any sort, =
and
fought against it like an untamed creature, even while he knew it was kindly meant, and dimly fel=
t that
he would be the better for it=
. He
made up his mind to be turned adrift again, to knock about the city as he had done nearly all=
his
life; a prospect that made him knit
his black brows, and look about the cosy little room with a wistful expression that would have
touched a much harder heart t=
han
Mr. Bhaer's if he had seen it. It vanished instantly, however, when the good man came in, and sai=
d in
his accustomed grave way,
"I have heard all about it, Dan, and
though you have broken the ru=
les
again, I am going to give you one more trial, to please Mother Bhaer."
Dan flushed up to his forehead at this
unexpected reprieve, but he o=
nly
said in his gruff way, =
"I didn't know there was any rule abo=
ut
bull-fighting."
"As I never expected to have any at
Plumfield, I never did make s=
uch a
rule," answered Mr. Bhaer, smiling in spite of himself at the boy's excuse. Then he added gravel=
y,
"But one of the first and most
important of our few laws is the law of kindness to every dumb creature on the place. I want ever=
ybody
and everything to be happy he=
re, to
love and trust, and serve us, as we try to love and trust and serve them faithfully and willingl=
y. I
have often said that you were kinder
to the animals than any of the other boys, and Mrs. Bhaer liked that trait in you very much,
because she thought it showed a good
heart. But you have disappointed us in that, and we are sorry, for we hoped to make you quite one=
of
us. Shall we try again?"
Dan's eyes had been on the floor, and his
hands nervously picking at th=
e bit
of wood he had been whittling as Mr. Bhaer came in, but when he heard the kind voice ask t=
hat
question, he looked up quickl=
y, and
said in a more respectful tone than he had ever used before,
"Yes, please."
"Very well, then, we will say no more,
only you will stay at home fr=
om the
walk to-morrow, as the other boys will and all of you must wait on poor Buttercup till s=
he is
well again."
"I will."
"Now, go down to supper, and do your
best, my boy, more for your o=
wn
sake than for ours." Then Mr. Bhaer shook hands with him, and Dan went down more tamed by ki=
ndness
than he would have been by th=
e good
whipping which Asia had strongly recommended.
Dan did try for a day or two, but not being
used to it, he soon tired and
relapsed into his old wilful ways. Mr. Bhaer was called from home on business one day, and the =
boys
had no lessons. They liked th=
is,
and played hard till bedtime, when most of them turned in and slept like dormice. Dan, howev=
er,
had a plan in his head, and w=
hen he
and Nat were alone, he unfolded it.
"Look here!" he said, taking from
under his bed a bottle, a cigar, and
a pack of cards, "I'm going to have some fun, and do as I used to with the fellows in town. Here'=
s some
beer, I got if of the old man=
at
the station, and this cigar; you can pay for 'em or Tommy will, he's got heaps of money and I
haven't a cent. I'm going to ask him
in; no, you go, they won't mind you."
"The folks won't like it," began
Nat.
"They won't know. Daddy Bhaer is away,
and Mrs. Bhaer's busy with Te=
d;
he's got croup or something, and she can't leave him. We shan't sit up late or make any noi=
se, so
where's the harm?"
"Asia will know if we burn the lamp l=
ong,
she always does." =
"No, she won't, I've got a dark lante=
rn
on purpose; it don't give much
light, and we can shut it quick if we hear anyone coming," said Dan.
This idea struck Nat as a fine one, and le=
nt
an air of romance to the thin=
g. He
started off to tell Tommy, but put his head in again to say,
"You want Demi, too, don't you?"=
"No, I don't; the Deacon will rollup =
eyes
and preach if you tell him. H=
e will
be asleep, so just tip the wink to Tom and cut back again."
Nat obeyed, and returned in a minute with
Tommy half dressed, rather to=
usled
about the head and very sleepy, but quite ready for fun as usual.
"Now, keep quiet, and I'll show you h=
ow
to play a first-rate game cal=
led
'Poker,' " said Dan, as the three revellers gathered round the table, on which were set forth the
bottle, the cigar, and the cards. =
span>"First
we'll all have a drink, then we'll take a go at the 'weed,' and then we'll play. That's the way me=
n do,
and it's jolly fun."
The beer circulated in a mug, and all three
smacked their lips over it, t=
hough
Nat and Tommy did not like the bitter stuff. The cigar was worse still, but they dared no=
t say
so, and each puffed away till=
he
was dizzy or choked, when he passed the "weed" on to his neighbor. Dan liked it, for it see=
med
like old times when he now an=
d then
had a chance to imitate the low men who surrounded him. He drank, and smoked, and swa=
ggered
as much like them as he could=
, and,
getting into the spirit of the part he assumed, he soon began to swear under his brea=
th for
fear some one should hear him.
"You mustn't; it's wicked to say 'Damn!' " cried Tommy, who had followed his leader so far=
.
"Oh, hang! don't you preach, but play
away; it's part of the fun to swear."
"I'd rather say 'thunder turtles,' &q=
uot;
said Tommy, who had composed =
this
interesting exclamation and was very proud of it.
"And I'll say 'The Devil;' that sounds
well," added Nat, much i=
mpressed
by Dan's manly ways.
Dan scoffed at their "nonsense,"=
and
swore stoutly as he tried to =
teach
them the new game.
But Tommy was very sleepy, and Nat's head
began to ache with the beer a=
nd the
smoke, so neither of them was very quick to learn, and the game dragged. The room was
nearly dark, for the lantern =
burned
badly; they could not laugh loud nor move about much, for Silas slept next door in the
shed-chamber, and altogether the party&nbs=
p;
was dull. In the middle of a deal Dan stopped suddenly, and called out, "Who's that?" in a
startled tone, and at the same moment drew=
the slide over the light. A voice in the darkness said tremulously,
"I can't find Tommy,&quo=
t; and
then there was the quick patter of bare feet running away down the entry that l=
ed
from the wing to the main hou=
se.
"It's Demi! he's gone to call some on=
e;
cut into bed, Tom, and don't =
tell!"
cried Dan, whisking all signs of the revel out of sight, and beginning to tear off his clothes,=
while
Nat did the same.
Tommy flew to his room and dived into bed,
where he lay, laughing till
something burned his hand, when he discovered that he was still clutching the stump o=
f the
festive cigar, which he happe=
ned to
be smoking when the revel broke up.
It was nearly out, and he was about to
extinguish it carefully when =
Nursey's
voice was heard, and fearing it would betray him if he hid it in the bed, he threw it underne=
ath,
after a final pinch which he =
thought
finished it.
Nursey came in with Demi, who looked much
amazed to see the red face of=
Tommy
reposing peacefully upon his pillow.
"He wasn't there just now, because I =
woke
up and could not find him
anywhere," said Demi, pouncing on him.
"What mischief are you at now, bad
child?" asked Nursey, with a =
span>good-natured
shake, which made the sleeper open his eyes to say meekly,
"I only ran into Nat's room to see him
about something. Go away, and=
let
me alone; I'm awful sleepy."
Nursey tucked Demi in, and went off to
reconnoitre, but only found t=
wo
boys slumbering peacefully in Dan's room. "Some little frolic," she thought, and as =
there
was no harm done she said not=
hing
to Mrs. Bhaer, who was busy and worried over little Teddy.
Tommy was sleepy, and telling Demi to mind=
his
own business and not ask ques=
tions,
he was snoring in ten minutes, little
dreaming what was going on under his bed. The cigar did not go out, but smouldered away on the st=
raw
carpet till it was nicely on =
fire,
and a hungry little flame went creeping along till the dimity bedcover caught, then the sheets, =
and
then the bed itself. The beer made
Tommy sleep heavily, and the smoke stupified Demi, so they slept on till the fire began to sc=
orch
them, and they were in danger of
being burned to death. =
Franz was sitting up to study, and as he l=
eft
the school-room he smelt the =
smoke,
dashed up-stairs and saw it coming in a cloud from the left wing of the house. W=
ithout
stopping to call any one, he =
ran
into the room, dragged the boys from the blazing bed, and splashed all the water he could fi=
nd at
hand on to the flames. It che=
cked
but did not quench the fire, and the children wakened on being tumbled topsy-turvy into a c=
old
hall, began to roar at the top of
their voices. Mrs. Bhaer instantly appeared, and a minute after Silas burst out of his room shouti=
ng,
"Fire!" in a tone that raised&nb=
sp;
the whole house. A flock of white goblins with scared faces crowded into the hall, and for a m=
inute
every one was panic-stricken.=
Then Mrs. Bhaer found her wits, bade Nursey
see to the burnt boys, and se=
nt
Franz and Silas down-stairs for some tubs of wet clothes which she flung on the bed=
, over
the carpet, and up against the
curtains, now burning finely, and threatening to kindle the walls.
Most of the boys stood dumbly looking on, =
but
Dan and Emil worked bravely,
running to and fro with water from the bath-room, and helping to pull down the dange=
rous
curtains.
The peril was soon over, and ordering the =
boys
all back to bed, and leaving =
Silas
to watch lest the fire broke out again, Mrs. Bhaer and Franz went to see how the poor boy=
s got
on. Demi had escaped with one=
burn
and a grand scare, but Tommy had not only most of his hair scorched off his head, bu=
t a
great burn on his arm, that m=
ade
him half crazy with the pain. Demi was soon made cosy, and Franz took him away to his own bed,
where the kind lad soothed hi=
s fright
and hummed him to sleep as cosily as a woman. Nursey watched over poor Tommy all night,
trying to ease his misery, and Mrs.
Bhaer vibrated between him and little Teddy with oil and cotton, paregoric and squills, say=
ing to
herself from time to time, as=
if
she found great amusement in the thought, "I always knew Tommy would set the house on fire,=
and
now he has done it!"
When Mr. Bhaer got home next morning he fo=
und
a nice state of things. Tommy=
in
bed, Teddy wheezing like a little grampus, Mrs. Jo quite used up, and the whole fl=
ock of
boys so excited that they all
talked at once, and almost dragged him by main force to view the ruins. Under his quiet managem=
ent
things soon fell into order, =
for
every one felt that he was equal to a dozen conflagrations, and worked with a will at whatever tas=
k he
gave them.
There was no school that morning, but by
afternoon the damaged room wa=
s put
to rights, the invalids were better, and there was time to hear and judge the little
culprits quietly. Nat and Tommy told
their parts in the mischief, and were honestly sorry for the danger they had brought to the dea=
r old
house and all in it. But Dan =
put on
his devil-may-care look, and would not own that there was much harm done.
Now, of all things, Mr. Bhaer hated drinki=
ng,
gambling, and swearing; smoki=
ng he
had given up that the lads might not be&nb=
sp;
tempted to try it, and it grieved and angered him deeply to find tha=
t the boy, with whom he had tried to=
be
most forbearing, should take =
advantage
of his absence to introduce these forbidden vices, and teach his innocent little lads to =
think
it manly and pleasant to indu=
lge in
them. He talked long and earnestly to the assembled boys, and ended by saying, with an=
air
of mingled firmness and regre=
t,
"I think Tommy is punished enough, and
that scar on his arm will rem=
ind
him for a long time to let these things alone. Nat's fright will do for him, for he is really =
sorry,
and does try to obey me. But =
you,
Dan, have been many times forgiven, and yet it does no good. I cannot have my boys hurt by your=
bad
example, nor my time wasted in
talking to deaf ears, so you can say good-bye to them all, and tell Nursey to put up your thi=
ngs in
my little black bag."
"Oh! sir, where is he going?" cr=
ied
Nat.
"To a pleasant place up in the countr=
y,
where I sometimes send boys w=
hen
they don't do well here. Mr. Page is a kind man, and Dan will be happy there if he choo=
ses to
do his best."
"Will he ever come back?" asked
Demi.
"That will depend on himself; I hope
so."
As he spoke, Mr. Bhaer left the room to wr=
ite
his letter to Mr. Page, and t=
he
boys crowded round Dan very much as people do about a man who is going on a long=
and
perilous journey to unknown
regions.
"I wonder if you'll like it," be=
gan
Jack.
"Shan't stay if I don't," said D=
an
coolly.
"Where will you go?" asked Nat. =
"I may go to sea, or out west, or tak=
e a
look at California," ans=
wered
Dan, with a reckless air that quite took away the breath of the little boys.
"Oh, don't! stay with Mr. Page awhile=
and
then come back here; do, Dan,=
"
pleaded Nat, much affected at the whole affair.
"I don't care where I go, or how long=
I
stay, and I'll be hanged if I ever
come back here," with which wrathful speech Dan went away to put up his things, every one of=
which
Mr. Bhaer had given him.
That was the only good-bye he gave the boy=
s,
for they were all talking the
matter over in the barn when he came down, and he told Nat not to call them. The wag=
on
stood at the door, and Mrs. B=
haer
came out to speak to Dan, looking so sad that his heart smote him, and he said in a low to=
ne,
"May I say good-bye to Teddy?" <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Yes, dear; go in and kiss him, he wi=
ll
miss his Danny very much."
No one saw the look in Dan's eyes as he
stooped over the crib, and sa=
w the
little face light up at first sight of him, but he heard Mrs. Bhaer say pleadingly,
"Can't we give the poor lad one more
trial, Fritz?" and Mr. Bhaer =
span>answer
in his steady way,
"My dear, it is not best, so let him =
go
where he can do no harm to ot=
hers,
while they do good to him, and by and by he shall come back, I promise you."
"He's the only boy we ever failed wit=
h,
and I am so grieved, for I th=
ought
there was the making of a fine man in him, spite of his faults."
Dan heard Mrs. Bhaer sigh, and he wanted to
ask for one more trial himsel=
f, but
his pride would not let him, and he came out with the hard look on his face, shook h=
ands
without a word, and drove awa=
y with
Mr. Bhaer, leaving Nat and Mrs. Jo to look after him with tears in their eyes.
A few days afterwards they received a lett=
er
from Mr. Page, saying that Da=
n was
doing well, whereat they all rejoiced. But three weeks later came another letter, s=
aying
that Dan had run away, and no=
thing
had been heard of him, whereat they all looked sober, and Mr. Bhaer said,
"Perhaps I ought to have given him another chance." <= o:p>
Mrs. Bhaer, however, nodded wisely and
answered, "Don't be trou=
bled,
Fritz; the boy will come back to us, I'm sure of it."
But time went on and no Dan came.
CHAPTER VII NAUGHTY NAN<=
span
class=3DCharChar2>
"Fritz, I've got a new idea," cr= ied Mrs. Bhaer, as she met her hu= sband one day after school. <= o:p>
"Well, my dear, what is it?" and=
he
waited willingly to hear the =
new
plan, for some of Mrs. Jo's ideas were so droll, it was impossible to help laughing at the=
m,
though usually they were quite
sensible, and he was glad to carry them out.
"Daisy needs a companion, and the boys
would be all the better for a=
nother
girl among them; you know we believe in bringing up little men and women together, and it is =
high
time we acted up to our belie=
f.
They pet and tyrannize over Daisy by turns, and she is getting spoilt. Then they must lea=
rn
gentle ways, and improve their manners,
and having girls about will do it better than any thing else."
"You are right, as usual. Now, who sh=
all
we have?" asked Mr. Bhae=
r,
seeing by the look in her eye that Mrs. Jo had some one all ready to propose.
"Little Annie Harding."
"What! Naughty Nan, as the lads call
her?" cried Mr. Bhaer, l=
ooking
very much amused.
"Yes, she is running wild at home sin=
ce
her mother died, and is too b=
right
a child to be spoilt by servants. I have had my eye on her for some time, and when I met her fath=
er in
town the other day I asked hi=
m why
he did not send her to school. He said he would gladly if he could find as good a school for=
girls
as ours was for boys. I know =
he
would rejoice to have her come; so suppose we drive over this afternoon and see about it.&q=
uot;
"Have not you cares enough now, my Jo,
without this little gypsy to
torment you?" asked Mr. Bhaer, patting the hand that lay on his arm.
"Oh dear, no," said Mother Bhaer,
briskly. "I like it, and never was&nb=
sp;
happier than since I had my wilderness of boys. You see, Fritz, I
"And if you succeed half as well as s=
he
did, you will have done a mag=
nificent
work," interrupted Mr. Bhaer, who labored under the delusion that Mrs. B. was the best=
and
most charming woman alive.
"Now, if you make fun of my plan I'll
give you bad coffee for a wee=
k, and
then where are you, sir?" cried Mrs. Jo, tweaking him by the ear just as if he was one o=
f the
boys.
"Won't Daisy's hair stand erect with
horror at Nan's wild ways?" asked
Mr. Bhaer, presently, when Teddy had swarmed up his waistcoat, and Rob up his back, fo=
r they
always flew at their father t=
he
minute school was done.
"At first, perhaps, but it will do Po=
sy
good. She is getting prim and Bettyish,
and needs stirring up a bit. She always has a good time when Nan comes over to play, and t=
he two
will help each other without
knowing it. Dear me, half the science of teaching is knowing how much children do for o=
ne
another, and when to mix them=
."
"I only hope she won't turn out anoth=
er
firebrand."
"My poor Dan! I never can quite forgi=
ve
myself for letting him go,&qu=
ot;
sighed Mrs. Bhaer.
At the sound of the name, little Teddy, who
had never forgotten his frien=
d,
struggled down from his father's arms, and trotted to the door, looked out over the sunny la=
wn
with a wistful face, and then trotted
back again, saying, as he always did when disappointed of the longed-for sight,
"My Danny's tummin' soon."
"I really think we ought to have kept
him, if only for Teddy's sake, he
was so fond of him, and perhaps baby's love would have done for him what we failed to do."=
;
"I've sometimes felt that myself; but
after keeping the boys in a f=
erment,
and nearly burning up the whole family, I thought it safer to remove the firebrand, for a tim=
e at
least," said Mr. Bhaer. <=
/span>
"Dinner's ready, let me ring the
bell," and Rob began a solo upon
that instrument which made it impossible to hear one's self speak. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Then I may have Nan, may I?" as=
ked
Mrs. Jo.
"A dozen Nans if you want them, my
dear," answered Mr. Bhaer, who
had room in his fatherly heart for all the naughty neglected children in the world.
When Mrs. Bhaer returned from her drive th=
at
afternoon, before she could u=
npack
the load of little boys, without whom she seldom moved, a small girl of ten skipped=
out
at the back of the carry-all =
and
ran into the house, shouting,
"Hi, Daisy! where are you?"
Daisy came, and looked pleased to see her
guest, but also a trifle alar=
med,
when Nan said, still prancing, as if it was impossible to keep still,
"I'm going to stay here always, papa =
says
I may, and my box is coming
tomorrow, all my things had to be washed and mended, and your aunt came and carried me =
off.
Isn't it great fun?"
"Why, yes. Did you bring your big
doll?" asked Daisy, hoping she
had, for on the last visit Nan had ravaged the baby house, and insisted on washing Blanche Matild=
a's
plaster face, which spoilt th=
e poor
dear's complexion for ever. =
span>
"Yes, she's somewhere round,"
returned Nan, with most unmat=
ernal
carelessness. "I made you a ring coming along, and pulled the hairs out of Dobbin's t=
ail.
Don't you want it?" and Nan presented
a horse-hair ring in token of friendship, as they had both vowed they would never speak to one
another again when they last =
parted.
Won by the beauty of the offering, Daisy g=
rew
more cordial, and proposed re=
tiring
to the nursery, but Nan said, "No, I want to see the boys, and the barn," and =
ran
off, swinging her hat by one string
till it broke, when she left it to its fate on the grass.
"Hullo! Nan!" cried the boys as =
she
bounced in among them with the
announcement,
"I'm going to stay."
"Hooray!" bawled Tommy from the =
wall
on which he was perched, for =
Nan
was a kindred spirit, and he foresaw "larks" in the future.
"I can bat; let me play," said N=
an,
who could turn her hand to any thing,
and did not mind hard knocks.
"We ain't playing now, and our side b=
eat
without you."
"I can beat you in running, any
way," returned Nan, falling back on&n=
bsp;
her strong point.
"Can she?" asked Nat of Jack.
"She runs very well for a girl,"
answered Jack, who looked down upon
Nan with condescending approval.
"Will you try?" said Nan, longin=
g to
display her powers.
"It's too hot," and Tommy langui=
shed
against the wall as if quite =
exhausted.
"What's the matter with Stuffy?"
asked Nan, whose quick eyes w=
ere
roving from face to face.
"Ball hurt his hand; he howls at every
thing," answered Jack sc=
ornfully.
"I don't, I never cry, no matter how =
I'm
hurt; it's babyish," said Nan,
loftily.
"Pooh! I could make you cry in two
minutes," returned Stuffy, rousing
up. "See if you can." "Go and pick that bunch of nettles,
then," and Stuffy pointed to a
sturdy specimen of that prickly plant growing by the wall. Nan instantly "grasped the nettle,&qu=
ot;
pulled it up, and held it with a defiant
gesture, in spite of the almost unbearable sting. "Good for you," cried the boys,
quick to acknowledge courage =
even
in one of the weaker sex. More nettled than she was, Stuffy determin=
ed to
get a cry out of her somehow,=
and
he said tauntingly, "You are used to poking your hands into every thing, so that is=
n't
fair. Now go and bump your he=
ad
real hard against the barn, and see if you don't howl then." "Don't do it," said Nat, who hat=
ed
cruelty. But Nan was off, and running straight at t=
he
barn, she gave her head a blo=
w that
knocked her flat, and sounded like a
battering-ram. Dizzy, but undaunted, she staggered up, saying stoutly, though her face was drawn=
with
pain, "That hurt, but I don't cry."
"Do it again," said Stuffy angri=
ly;
and Nan would have done it, but Nat
held her; and Tommy, forgetting the heat, flew at Stuffy like a little game-cock, roaring out,
"Stop it, or I'll throw you over the
barn!" and so shook and hustled
poor Stuffy that for a minute he did not know whether he was on his head or his heels.
"She told me to," was all he cou=
ld
say, when Tommy let him alone=
.
"Never mind if she did; it is awfully
mean to hurt a little girl," said&nbs=
p;
Demi, reproachfully. =
span>
"Ho! I don't mind; I ain't a little g=
irl,
I'm older than you and Daisy; so
now," cried Nan, ungratefully.
"Don't preach, Deacon, you bully Posy
every day of your life," called
out the Commodore, who just then hove in sight.
"I don't hurt her; do I, Daisy?"=
and
Demi turned to his sister, who was
"pooring" Nan's tingling hands, and recommending water for the purple lump rapidly developing
itself on her forehead.
"You are the best boy in the world,&q=
uot;
promptly answered Daisy; addi=
ng, as
truth compelled her to do, "You hurt me sometimes, but you don't mean to."
"Put away the bats and things, and mi=
nd
what you are about, my hearti=
es. No
fighting allowed aboard this ship," said Emil, who rather lorded it over the others. =
"How do you do, Madge Wildfire?" said Mr. Bhaer, as Nan came i= n with the rest to supper. "Give the right hand, little daughter, and mind thy manners," he added, = as Nan offered him her left. <= o:p>
"The other hurts me."
"The poor little hand! what has it be=
en
doing to get those blisters?" <=
/span>he
asked, drawing it from behind her back, where she had put it with a look which made him think s=
he had
been in mischief.
Before Nan could think of any excuse, Daisy
burst out with the whole stor=
y,
during which Stuffy tried to hide his face in a bowl of bread and milk. When the tale was
finished, Mr. Bhaer looked do=
wn the
long table towards his wife, and said with a laugh in his eyes,
"This rather belongs to your side of =
the
house, so I won't meddle with=
it,
my dear."
Mrs. Jo knew what he meant, but she liked =
her
little black sheep all the be=
tter
for her pluck, though she only said in her soberest way,
"Do you know why I asked Nan to come
here?"
"To plague me," muttered Stuffy,
with his mouth full.
"To help make little gentlemen of you,
and I think you have shown th=
at
some of you need it."
Here Stuffy retired into his bowl again, a=
nd
did not emerge till Demi made=
them
all laugh by saying, in his slow wondering way,
"How can she, when she's such a
tomboy?"
"That's just it, she needs help as mu=
ch
as you, and I expect you set =
her an
example of good manners."
"Is she going to be a little gentleman too?" asked Rob. <= o:p>
"She'd like it; wouldn't you, Nan?&qu=
ot;
added Tommy.
"No, I shouldn't; I hate boys!" =
said
Nan fiercely, for her hand still smarted,
and she began to think that she might have shown her courage in some wiser way.
"I am sorry you hate my boys, because
they can be well-mannered, an=
d most
agreeable when they choose. Kindness in looks and words and ways is true politeness,=
and
any one can have it if they o=
nly
try to treat other people as they like to be treated themselves."
Mrs. Bhaer had addressed herself to Nan, b=
ut
the boys nudged one another, =
and
appeared to take the hint, for that time at least, and passed the butter; said
"please," and "thank you," "yes, sir," and
"When my battledore and shuttle-cock
comes, I'll let you all play =
with
'em."
Her first remark in the morning was "=
Has
my box come?" and when t=
old
that it would arrive sometime during the day, she fretted and fumed, and whipped her doll, t=
ill
Daisy was shocked. She manage=
d to
exist, however, till five o'clock, when she disappeared, and was not missed till supper-tim=
e,
because those at home thought=
she
had gone to the hill with Tommy and Demi.
"I saw her going down the avenue alon=
e as
hard as she could pelt," said
Mary Ann, coming in with the hasty-pudding, and finding every one asking, "Where is
Nan?"
"She has run home, little gypsy!"
cried Mrs. Bhaer, looking anx=
ious.
"Perhaps she has gone to the station =
to
look after her luggage," suggested
Franz.
'That is impossible, she does not know the
way, and if she found it, she=
could
never carry the box a mile," said Mrs. Bhaer, beginning to think that her new idea might be
rather a hard one to carry out.
"It would be like her," and Mr.
Bhaer caught up his hat to go and =
span>find
the child, when a shout from Jack, who was at the window, made everyone hurry to the door. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
There was Miss Nan, to be sure, tugging al=
ong
a very large band-box tied up=
in
linen bag. Very hot and dusty and tired did she look, but marched stoutly along, a=
nd
came puffing up to the steps, where
she dropped her load with a sigh of relief, and sat down upon it, observed as she crossed h=
er
tired arms,
"I couldn't wait any longer, so I went
and got it."
"But you did not know the way," =
said
Tommy, while the rest stood r=
ound
enjoying the joke.
"Oh, I found it, I never get lost.&qu=
ot;
"It's a mile, how could you go so far=
?"
"Well, it was pretty far, but I reste=
d a
good deal."
"Wasn't that thing very heavy?" =
"It's so round, I couldn't get hold o=
f it
good, and I thought my arms w=
ould
break right off." =
"I don't see how the station-master l=
et
you have it," said Tommy.
"I didn't say anything to him. He was=
in
the little ticket place, and =
didn't
see me, so I just took it off the platform."
"Run down and tell him it is all righ=
t,
Franz, or old Dodd will think it is
stolen," said Mr. Bhaer, joining in the shout of laughter at Nan's coolness.
"I told you we would send for it if it
did not come. Another time yo=
u must
wait, for you will get into trouble if you run away. Promise me this, or I shall not da=
re to
trust you out of my sight," said
Mrs. Bhaer, wiping the dust off Nan's little hot face.
"Well, I won't, only papa tells me no=
t to
put off doing things, so I do=
n't."
"That is rather a poser; I think you =
had
better give her some supper n=
ow,
and a private lecture by and by," said Mr. Bhaer, too much amused to be angry at the young la=
dy's
exploit.
The boys thought it "great fun,"=
and
Nan entertained them all supp=
er-time
with an account of her adventures; for a big dog had barked at her, a man had laughed a=
t her,
a woman had given her a dough=
nut,
and her hat had fallen into the brook when she stopped to drink, exhausted with her exert=
ion.
'I fancy you will have your hands full now=
, my
dear; Tommy and Nan are quite
enough for one woman," said Mr. Bhaer, half an hour later.
"I know it will take some time to tame
the child, but she is such a =
generous,
warm-hearted little thing, I should love her even if she were twice as naughty," answe=
red
Mrs. Jo, pointing to the merry group,
in the middle of which stood Nan, giving away her things right and left, as lavishly as if =
the
big band-box had no bottom. =
span>
It was those good traits that soon made li=
ttle
"Giddygaddy," as they called
her, a favorite with every one. Daisy never complained of being dull again, for Nan invented=
the
most delightful plays, and her
pranks rivalled Tommy's, to the amusement of the whole school. She buried her big doll and
forgot it for a week, and found it
well mildewed when she dragged it up. Daisy was in despair, but Nan took it to the painter who as =
at
work about the house, got him to
paint it brick red, with staring black eyes, then she dressed it up with feathers, and scarlet flannel=
, and
one of Ned's leaden hatchets;=
and
in the character of an Indian chief, the late Poppydilla tomahawked all the other
dolls, and caused the nursery to
run red with imaginary gore. She gave away her new shoes to a beggar child, hoping to be allowed=
to go
barefoot, but found it imposs=
ible
to combine charity and comfort, and was ordered to ask leave before disposing of her clot=
hes.
She delighted the boys by mak=
ing a
fire-ship out of a shingle with two large sails wet with turpentine, which she lighted, and=
then
sent the little vessel floati=
ng
down the brook at dusk. She harnessed the old turkey-cock to a straw wagon, and =
made
him trot round the house at a
tremendous pace. She gave her coral necklace for four unhappy kittens, which had been
tormented by some heartless lads, =
span>and
tended them for days as gently as a mother, dressing their wounds with cold cream, feeding th=
em
with a doll's spoon, and mour=
ning
over them when they died, till she was consoled by one of Demi's best turtles. She made S=
ilas
tattoo an anchor on her arm l=
ike
his, and begged hard to have a blue star on each cheek, but he dared not do it, though she coaxed=
and
scolded till the soft-hearted fellow
longed to give in. She rode every animal on the place, from the big horse Andy to the cross pi=
g,
from whom she was rescued with
difficulty. Whatever the boys dared her to do she instantly attempted, no matter how dangerous=
it
might be, and they were never=
tired
of testing her courage.
Mr. Bhaer suggested that they should see w=
ho
would study best, and Nan fou=
nd as
much pleasure in using her quick wits and fine memory as her active feet and merry
tongue, while the lads had to do
their best to keep their places, for Nan showed them that girls could do most things as well as bo=
ys,
and some things better. There=
were
no rewards in school, but Mr. Bhaer's "Well done!" and Mrs. Bhaer's good report on the
conscience book, taught them to love
duty for its own sake, and try to do it faithfully, sure sooner or later the recompense would come. L=
ittle
Nan was quick to feel the new
atmosphere, to enjoy it, to show that it was what she needed; for this little garden was full of=
sweet
flowers, half hidden by the w=
eeds;
and when kind hands gently began to cultivate it, all sorts of green shoots sprung up, promisi=
ng to
blossom beautifully in the wa=
rmth
of love and care, the best climate for young hearts and souls all the world over.
As there is no particular plan to this sto=
ry,
except to describe a few scen=
es in
the life at Plumfield for the amusement of certain little persons, we will gently ramble alo=
ng in
this chapter and tell some of=
the
pastimes of Mrs. Jo's boys. I beg leave to assure my honored readers that most of the incidents=
are
taken from real life, and that the
oddest are the truest; for no person, no matter how vivid an imagination he may have, can invent
anything half so droll as the freaks
and fancies that originate in the lively brains of little people.
Daisy and Demi were full of these whims, a=
nd
lived in a world of their own,
peopled with lovely or grotesque creatures, to whom they gave the queerest names, and =
with
whom they played the queerest
games. One of these nursery inventions was an invisible sprite called "The Naughty
Kitty-mouse," whom the children had&n=
bsp;
believed in, feared, and served for a long time. They seldom spoke of it to any one else, kept their =
rites
as private as possible; and, as they
never tried to describe it even to themselves, this being had a vague mysterious charm very agreea=
ble to
Demi, who delighted in elves =
and
goblins. A most whimsical and tyrannical imp was the Naughty Kitty-mouse, and Daisy fou=
nd a
fearful pleasure in its servi=
ce,
blindly obeying its most absurd demands, which were usually proclaimed from the lips of
Demi, whose powers of inventi=
on
were great. Rob and Teddy sometimes joined in these ceremonies, and considered them
excellent fun, although they did not
understand half that went on.
One day after school Demi whispered to his
sister, with an ominous wag o=
f the
head,
"The Kitty-mouse wants us this
afternoon."
"What for?" asked Daisy, anxious=
ly.
"A sackerryfice," answered Demi,
solemnly. "There must be a fire
behind the big rock at two o'clock, and we must all bring the things=
we like best, and burn them!"=
he
added, with an awful emphasis on the
last words.
"Oh, dear! I love the new paper dolli=
es
Aunt Amy painted for me best =
of any
thing; must I burn them up?" cried Daisy, who never thought of denying the unseen tyra=
nt any
thing it demanded.
"Every one. I shall burn my boat, my =
best
scrapbook, and all my soldier=
s,"
said Demi firmly.
"Well, I will; but it's too bad of
Kitty-mouse to want our very =
nicest
things," sighed Daisy. =
span>
"A sackerryfice means to give up what=
you
are fond of, so we must,"
explained Demi, to whom the new idea had been suggested by hearing Uncle Fritz describe the
customs of the Greeks to the =
big
boys who were reading about them in school.
"Is Rob coming too," asked Daisy=
.
"Yes, and he is going to bring his toy
village; it is all made of wo=
od,
you know, and will burn nicely. We'll have a grand bonfire, and see them blaze up, won't we?&q=
uot;
This brilliant prospect consoled Daisy, and
she ate her dinner with a row=
of
paper dolls before her, as a sort of farewell banquet.
At the appointed hour the sacrificial train
set forth, each child bearing=
the
treasures demanded by the insatiable Kitty-mouse. Teddy insisted on going also, and =
seeing
that all the others had toys,=
he
tucked a squeaking lamb under one arm, and old Annabella under the other, little
dreaming what anguish the latter idol
was to give him.
"Where are you going, my chickens?&qu=
ot;
asked Mrs. Jo, as the flock p=
assed
her door.
"To play by the big rock; can't we?&q=
uot;
"Yes, only don't do near the pond, and
take good care of baby."
"I always do," said Daisy, leadi=
ng
forth her charge with a capable air.
"Now, you must all sit round, and not
move till I tell you. This flat stone
is an altar, and I am going to make a fire on it."
Demi then proceeded to kindle up a small
blaze, as he had seen the boy=
s do
at picnics. When the flame burned well, he ordered the company to march round it three ti=
mes
and then stand in a circle. =
span>
"I shall begin, and as fast as my thi=
ngs
are burnt, you must bring you=
rs."
With that he solemnly laid on a little pap=
er
book full of pictures, pasted=
in by
himself; this was followed by a dilapidated boat, and then one by one the unhappy leaden
soldiers marched to death. Not one
faltered or hung back, from the splendid red and yellow captain to the small drummer who h=
ad
lost his legs; all vanished in the
flames and mingled in one common pool of melted lead.
"Now, Daisy!" called the high pr=
iest
of Kitty-mouse, when his rich offerings
had been consumed, to the great satisfaction of the children.
"My dear dollies, how can I let them
go?" moaned Daisy, hugging the
entire dozen with a face full of maternal woe.
"You must," commanded Demi; and =
with
a farewell kiss to each, Dais=
y laid
her blooming dolls upon the coals.
"Let me keep one, the dear blue thing,
she is so sweet," besought the
poor little mamma, clutching her last in despair.
"More! more!" growled an awful
voice, and Demi cried, "that's the&nb=
sp;
Kitty-mouse! she must have every one, quick, or she will scratch us."
In went the precious blue belle, flounces,
rosy hat, and all, and nothin=
g but
a few black flakes remained of that bright band.
"Stand the houses and trees round, and
let them catch themselves; it=
will
be like a real fire then," said Demi, who liked variety even in his "sackerryfices." =
Charmed by this suggestion, the children
arranged the doomed village, =
laid a
line of coals along the main street, and then sat down to watch the conflagration. I=
t was
somewhat slow to kindle owing=
to
the paint, but at last one ambitious little cottage blazed up, fired a tree of the palm speci=
es,
which fell on to the roof of a large
family mansion, and in a few minutes the whole town was burning merrily. The wooden popula=
tion
stood and stared at the destr=
uction
like blockheads, as they were, till they also caught and blazed away without a cry. It took=
some
time to reduce the town to as=
hes,
and the lookers-on enjoyed the spectacle immensely, cheering as each house fell, danci=
ng
like wild Indians when the st=
eeple
flamed aloft, and actually casting one wretched little churn-shaped lady, who had escaped=
to
the suburbs, into the very he=
art of
the fire.
The superb success of this last offering
excited Teddy to such a degre=
e,
that he first threw his lamb into the conflagration, and before it had time even to roast, =
he
planted poor Annabella on the funeral
pyre. Of course she did not like it, and expressed her anguish and resentment in a way th=
at
terrified her infant destroyer. Being
covered with kid, she did not blaze, but did what was worse, she squirmed. First one leg curled=
up,
then the other, in a very awf=
ul and
lifelike manner; next she flung her arms over her head as if in great agony; her head its=
elf
turned on her shoulders, her =
glass
eyes fell out, and with one final writhe of her whole body, she sank down a blackened mass on =
the
ruins of the town. This unexp=
ected
demonstration startled every one and frightened Teddy half out of his little wits. He lo=
oked,
then screamed and fled toward=
the
house, roaring "Marmar" at the top of his voice.
Mrs. Bhaer heard the outcry and ran to the
rescue, but Teddy could only =
cling
to her and pour out in his broken way something about "poor Bella hurted," &qu=
ot;a
dreat fire," and "all the dollies dorn." Fearing some dire mishap, his moth=
er
caught him up and hurried to =
the
scene of action, where she found the blind worshippers of Kitty-mouse mourning over the char=
red
remains of the lost darling. <=
/span>
"What have you been at? Tell me all a=
bout
it," said Mrs. Jo, compo=
sing
herself to listen patiently, for the culprits looked so penitent, she forgave them beforeh=
and.
With some reluctance Demi explained their
play, and Aunt Jo laughed til=
l the
tears ran down her cheeks, the children were so solemn, and the play was so absurd=
.
"I thought you were too sensible to p=
lay
such a silly game as this. If=
I had
any Kitty-mouse I'd have a good one who liked you to play in safe pleasant ways, and not des=
troy
and frighten. Just see what a ruin
you have made; all Daisy's pretty dolls, Demi's soldiers, and Rob's new village beside poor Tedd=
y's
pet lamb, and dear old Annabe=
lla. I
shall have to write up in the nursery the verse that used to come in the boxes of toys,=
"The children of Holland take pleasur=
e in
making,
What the children of Boston take pleasure =
in
breaking."
Only I shall put Plumfield instead of
Boston."
"We never will again, truly, truly!&q=
uot;
cried the repentant little si=
nners,
much abashed at this reproof.
"Demi told us to," said Rob.
"Well, I heard Uncle tell about the
Greece people, who had altars and
things, and so I wanted to be like them, only I hadn't any live creatures to sackerryfice, so we b=
urnt
up our toys."
"Dear me, that is something like the =
bean
story," said Aunt Jo, la=
ughing
again.
"Tell about it," suggested Daisy=
, to
change the subject.
"Once there was a poor woman who had
three or four little children=
, and
she used to lock them up in her room when she went out to work, to keep them safe. On=
day
when she was going away she s=
aid,
'Now, my dears, don't let baby fall out of window, don't play with the matches, and don't p=
ut
beans up your noses.' Now the children
had never dreamed of doing that last thing, but she put it into their heads, and the minute s=
he was
gone, they ran and stuffed th=
eir
naughty little noses full of beans, just to see how it felt, and she found them all crying when she=
came
home."
"Did it hurt?" asked Rob, with s=
uch
intense interest that his mother hastily
added a warning sequel, lest a new edition of the bean story should appear in her own family. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Very much, as I know, for when my mo=
ther
told me this story, I was so =
silly
that I went and tried it myself. I had no beans, so I took some little pebbles, and poked
several into my nose. I did not like
it at all, and wanted to take them out again very soon, but one would not come, and I was so asham=
ed to
tell what a goose I been that=
I
went for hours with the stone hurting me very much. At last the pain got so bad I had to tell,=
and when
my mother could not get it ou=
t the
doctor came. Then I was put in a chair and held tight, Rob, while he used his ugly little
pincers till the stone hopped out. <=
/span>Dear
me! how my wretched little nose did ache, and how people laughed at me!" and Mrs. Jo s=
hook
her head in a dismal way, as if the
memory of her sufferings was too much for her.
Rob looked deeply impressed and I am glad =
to
say took the warning to heart=
. Demi
proposed that they should bury poor
Annabella, and in the interest of the funeral Teddy forgot his fright. Daisy was soon consoled by
another batch of dolls from A=
unt
Amy, and the Naughty Kitty-mouse seemed to be appeased by the last offerings, for she tor=
mented
them no more.
"Brops" was the name of a new and
absorbing play, invented by B=
angs.
As this interesting animal is not to be found in any Zoological Garden, unless Du Chail=
lu has
recently brought one from the=
wilds
of Africa, I will mention a few of its peculiar habits and traits, for the benefit of inq=
uiring
minds. The Brop is a winged q=
uadruped,
with a human face of a youthful and merry aspect. When it walks the earth it grunts,=
when
it soars it gives a shrill ho=
ot,
occasionally it goes erect, and talks good English. Its body is usually covered with a substance m=
uch
resembling a shawl, sometimes=
red,
sometimes blue, often plaid, and, strange to say, they frequently change skins with =
one
another. On their heads they =
have a
horn very like a stiff brown paper lamp-lighter. Wings of the same substance flap upon their
shoulders when they fly; this is never
very far from the ground, as they usually fall with violence if they attempt any lofty flights. Th=
ey
browse over the earth, but can sit
up and eat like the squirrel. Their favorite nourishment is the seed-cake; apples also are freely =
taken,
and sometimes raw carrots are
nibbled when food is scarce. They live in dens, where they have a sort of nest, much like a
clothes-basket, in which the little
Brops play till their wings are grown. These singular animals quarrel at times, and it is on the=
se
occasions that they burst into human
speech, call each other names, cry, scold, and sometimes tear off horns and skin, declaring
fiercely that they "won't play."=
The few privileged persons who have studied them are inclined to think them a remarkable mixture of=
the
monkey, the sphinx, the roc, =
and
the queer creatures seen by the famous Peter Wilkins.
This game was a great favorite, and the
younger children beguiled man=
y a
rainy afternoon flapping or creeping about the nursery, acting like little bedlamites and =
being
as merry as little grigs. To =
be
sure, it was rather hard upon clothes, particularly trouser-knees, and jacket-elbows; but Mrs. Bhaer =
only
said, as she patched and darn=
ed,
"We do things just as foolish, and not
half so harmless. If I could =
get as
much happiness out of it as the little dears do, I'd be a Brop myself."
Nat's favorite amusements were working in =
his
garden, and sitting in the
willow-tree with his violin, for that green nest was a fairy world to him, and there he loved to
perch, making music like a ha=
ppy
bird. The lads called him "Old Chirper," because he was always humming, whistling, or fidd=
ling,
and they often stopped a minu=
te in
their work or play to listen to the soft tones of the violin, which seemed to lead a little orch=
estra
of summer sounds. The birds
appeared to regard him as one of themselves, and fearlessly sat on the fence or lit among the =
boughs
to watch him with their quick
bright eyes. The robins in the apple-tree near by evidently considered him a friend, for the f=
ather
bird hunted insects close bes=
ide
him, and the little mother brooded as confidingly over her blue eggs as if the boy was only a=
new
sort of blackbird who cheered=
her
patient watch with his song. The brown brook babbled and sparkled below him, the bees h=
aunted
the clover fields on either s=
ide,
friendly faces peeped at him as they passed, the old house stretched its wide wings
hospitably toward him, and with a =
span>blessed
sense of rest and love and happiness, Nat dreamed for hours in this nook, unconscious wh=
at
healthful miracles were being
wrought upon him.
One listener he had who never tired, and to
whom he was more than a mere
schoolmate. Poor Billy's chief delight was to lie beside the brook, watching leaves and bit=
s of
foam dance by, listening drea=
mily
to the music in the willow-tree. He seemed to think Nat a sort of angel who sat aloft and sa=
ng,
for a few baby memories still lingered
in his mind and seemed to grow brighter at these times. Seeing the interest he took in Nat=
, Mr.
Bhaer begged him to help them=
lift
the cloud from the feeble brain by this gentle spell. Glad to do any thing to show his gratit=
ude,
Nat always smiled on Billy wh=
en he
followed him about, and let him listen undisturbed to the music which seemed to speak a lang=
uage
he could understand. "He=
lp one
another," was a favorite Plumfield motto, and Nat learned how much sweetness is adde=
d to
life by trying to live up to =
it.
Jack Ford's peculiar pastime was buying and
selling; and he bid fair to f=
ollow
in the footsteps of his uncle, a country merchant, who sold a little of every thing a=
nd
made money fast. Jack had see=
n the
sugar sanded, the molasses watered, the butter mixed with lard, and things of that kind, and
labored under the delusion that it <=
/span>was
all a proper part of the business. His stock in trade was of a different sort, but he made as muc=
h as
he could out of every worm he=
sold,
and always got the best of the bargain when he traded with the boys for string, knives, fish-=
hooks,
or whatever the article might=
be.
The boys who all had nicknames, called him "Skinflint," but Jack did not care as long as t=
he old
tobacco-pouch in which he kep=
t his
money grew heavier and heavier.
He established a sort of auction-room, and=
now
and then sold off all the odd=
s and
ends he had collected, or helped the lads exchange things with one another. He got ba=
ts,
balls, hockey-sticks, etc., c=
heap,
from one set of mates, furbished them up, and let them for a few cents a time to another set, o=
ften
extending his business beyond=
the
gates of Plumfield in spite of the rules. Mr. Bhaer put a stop to some of his speculations, =
and
tried to give him a better idea of
business talent than mere sharpness in overreaching his neighbors. Now and then Jack made =
a bad
bargain, and felt worse about=
it
than about any failure in lessons or conduct, and took his revenge on the next innocent custo=
mer
who came along. His account-b=
ook
was a curiosity; and his quickness at figures quite remarkable. Mr. Bhaer praised him =
for
this, and tried to make his s=
ense
of honesty and honor as quick; and, by and by, when Jack found that he could not get on wit=
hout
these virtues, he owned that =
his
teacher was right.
Cricket and football the boys had of cours=
e;
but, after the stirring accou=
nts of
these games in the immortal "Tom Brown at Rugby," no feeble female pen may venture t=
o do
more than respectfully allude=
to
them.
Emil spent his holidays on the river or the
pond, and drilled the elder l=
ads
for a race with certain town boys, who now and then invaded their territory. The race =
duly
came off, but as it ended in a general
shipwreck, it was not mentioned in public; and the Commodore had serious thoughts of
retiring to a desert island, so disgusted
was he with his kind for a time. No desert island being convenient, he was forced to remain
among his friends, and found =
consolation
in building a boat-house.
The little girls indulged in the usual pla=
ys
of their age, improving upon =
them
somewhat as their lively fancies suggested. The chief and most absorbing play was called
"Mrs. Shakespeare Smith;" the&nb=
sp;
name was provided by Aunt Jo, but the trials of the poor lady were quite original. Daisy was Mrs. S. =
S.,
and Nan by turns her daughter or a
neighbor, Mrs. Giddygaddy.
No pen can describe the adventures of these
ladies, for in one short afte=
rnoon
their family was the scene of births, marriages, deaths, floods, earthquakes, tea-parties, =
and
balloon ascensions. Millions =
of
miles did these energetic women travel, dressed in hats and habits never seen before by mortal=
eye,
perched on the bed, driving t=
he
posts like mettlesome steeds, and bouncing up and down till their heads spun. Fits and fires w=
ere
the pet afflictions, with a g=
eneral
massacre now and then by way of change. Nan was never tired of inventing fresh combinati=
ons,
and Daisy followed her leader=
with
blind admiration. Poor Teddy was a frequent victim, and was often rescued from real da=
nger,
for the excited ladies were a=
pt to
forget that he was not of the same stuff their longsuffering dolls. Once he was shut into the c=
loset
for a dungeon, and forgotten =
by the
girls, who ran off to some out-of-door game. Another time he was half drowned i=
n the bath-tub,
playing be a "cunning li=
ttle
whale." And, worst of all, he was cut down just in time after being hung up for a rob=
ber.
But the institution most patronized by all=
was
the Club. It had no other nam=
e, and
it needed none, being the only one in the&=
nbsp;
neighborhood. The elder lads got it up, and the younger were occasionally admitted if they beha=
ved
well. Tommy and Demi were hon=
orary
members, but were always obliged to retire=
unpleasantly early, owing to circumstances over which they had no
Rainy evenings the members met in the
schoolroom, and passed the ti=
me in
games: chess, morris, backgammon, fencing matches, recitations, debates, or dramatic
performances of a darkly tragical =
span>nature.
In summer the barn was the rendezvous, and what went on there no uninitiated mortal knows.=
On
sultry evenings the Club adjo=
urned
to the brook for aquatic exercises, and the members sat about in airy attire, frog-like and
cool. On such occasions the s=
peeches
were unusually eloquent, quite flowing, as one might say; and if any orator's remarks disple=
ased
the audience, cold water was =
thrown
upon him till his ardor was effectually quenched. Franz was president, and maintained order
admirably, considering the un=
ruly
nature of the members. Mr. Bhaer never interfered with their affairs, and was rewarded fo=
r this
wise forbearance by being inv=
ited
now and then to behold the mysteries unveiled, which he appeared to enjoy much.
When Nan came she wished to join the Club,=
and
caused great excitement and
division among the gentlemen by presenting=
endless petitions, both written and spoken, disturbing their solemnities by insulting them thro=
ugh
the key-hole, performing vigo=
rous
solos on the door, and writing up derisive remarks on walls and fences, for she belonged=
to
the "Irrepressibles." Finding&nb=
sp;
these appeals in vain, the girls, by the advice of Mrs. Jo, got up a=
n institution of their own, which th=
ey
called the Cosy Club. To this they
magnanimously invited the gentlemen whose youth excluded them from the other one, and enter=
tained
these favored beings so well =
with
little suppers, new games devised by Nan, and other pleasing festivities, that, one by=
one,
the elder boys confessed a de=
sire
to partake of these more elegant enjoyments, and, after much consultation, finally decided=
to
propose an interchange of civ=
ilities.
The members of the Cosy Club were invited =
to
adorn the rival establishment=
on
certain evenings, and to the surprise of the gentlemen their presence was not f=
ound
to be a restraint upon the co=
nversation
or amusement of the regular frequenters; which could not be said of all Clubs, I fancy.=
The
ladies responded handsomely a=
nd
hospitably to these overtures of peace, and both institutions flourished long and happily.
CHAPTER IX DAISY'S BALL<=
span
class=3DCharChar2>
"Mrs. Shakespeare Smith would like to
have Mr. John Brooke, Mr. Tho=
mas
Bangs, and Mr. Nathaniel Blake to come to her ball at three o'clock today.
"P.S. Nat must bring his fiddle, so we
can dance, and all the boys m=
ust be
good, or they cannot have any of the nice things we have cooked."
This elegant invitation would, I fear, have
been declined, but for the hi=
nt
given in the last line of the postscript.
"They have been cooking lots of goodi=
es,
I smelt 'em. Let's go," =
said
Tommy.
"We needn't stay after the feast, you
know," added Demi.
"I never went to a ball. What do you =
have
to do?" asked Nat.
"Oh, we just play be men, and sit rou=
nd
stiff and stupid like grown-up
folks, and dance to please the girls. Then we eat up everything, and come away as soon =
as we
can."
"I think I could do that," said =
Nat,
after considering Tommy's des=
cription
for a minute.
"I'll write and say we'll come;"=
and
Demi despatched the following gentlemanly
reply,
"We will all come. Please have lots to
eat. J. B. Esquire."
Great was the anxiety of the ladies about
their first ball, because if =
every
thing went well they intended to give a dinner-party to the chosen few.
"Aunt Jo likes to have the boys play =
with
us, if they are not rough; so=
we
must make them like our balls, then they will do them good," said Daisy, with her
maternal air, as she set the table and&nbs=
p;
surveyed the store of refreshments with an anxious eye.
"Demi and Nat will be good, but Tommy=
will
do something bad, I know he
will," replied Nan, shaking her head over the little cake-basket which she was arrangin=
g.
"Then I shall send him right home,&qu=
ot;
said Daisy, with decision.
"People don't do so at parties, it is=
n't
proper."
"I shall never ask him any more."=
;
"That would do. He'd be sorry not to =
come
to the dinner-ball, wouldn't
he?"
"I guess he would! we'll have the
splendidest things ever seen, won't
we? Real soup with a ladle and a tureem [she meant tureen] and a little bird for turkey, and =
gravy,
and all kinds of nice vegytub=
bles."
Daisy never could say vegetables properly, and had given up trying.
"It is 'most three, and we ought to
dress," said Nan, who had arranged
a fine costume for the occasion, and was anxious to wear it.
"I am the mother, so I shan't dress up
much," said Daisy, putting on <=
/span>a
night-cap ornamented with a red bow, one of her aunt's long skirts, and a shawl; a pair of
spectacles and large pocket h=
andkerchief
completed her toilette, making a plump, rosy little matron of her.
Nan had a wreath of artificial flowers, a =
pair
of old pink slippers, a yellow
scarf, a green muslin skirt, and a fan made of feathers from the duster; also, as a last touch =
of
elegance, a smelling-bottle w=
ithout
any smell in it.
"I am the daughter, so I rig up a good
deal, and I must sing and dan=
ce,
and talk more than you do. The mothers only get the tea and be proper, you know."
A sudden very loud knock caused Miss Smith= to fly into a chair, and fan her= self violently, while her mamma sat bolt upright on the sofa, and tried to look quite calm= and "proper." Little Bess, who was on a visit, acted the part of maid, and opened the door, saying<= span style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> with a smile, "Wart in, gempl= emun; it's all weady." <= o:p>
In honor of the occasion, the boys wore hi=
gh
paper collars, tall black hat=
s, and
gloves of every color and material, for they were an afterthought, and not a boy among =
them
had a perfect pair.
"Good day, mum," said Demi, in a
deep voice, which was so hard to
keep up that his remarks had to be extremely brief.
Every one shook hands and then sat down,
looking so funny, yet so sobe=
r,
that the gentlemen forgot their manners, and rolled in their chairs with laughter.
"Oh, don't!" cried Mrs. Smith, m=
uch
distressed.
"You can't ever come again if you act
so," added Miss Smith, r=
apping
Mr. Bangs with her bottle because he laughed loudest.
"I can't help it, you look so like
fury," gasped Mr. Bangs, with most&nb=
sp;
uncourteous candor.
"So do you, but I shouldn't be so rud=
e as
to say so. He shan't come to =
the
dinner-ball, shall he, Daisy?" cried Nan, indignantly.
"I think we had better dance now. Did=
you
bring your fiddle, sir?" asked
Mrs. Smith, trying to preserve her polite composure.
"It is outside the door," and Nat
went to get it.
"Better have tea first," proposed
the unabashed Tommy, winking =
openly
at Demi to remind him that the sooner the refreshments were secured, the sooner they could
escape.
"No, we never have supper first; and =
if
you don't dance well you won'=
t have
any supper at all, not one bit, sir," said Mrs. Smith, so sternly that her wild guests saw s=
he was
not to be trifled with, and g=
rew
overwhelmingly civil all at once.
"I will take Mr. Bangs and teach him =
the
polka, for he does not know i=
t fit
to be seen," added the hostess, with a reproachful look that sobered Tommy at once.
Nat struck up, and the ball opened with two
couples, who went conscientio=
usly
through a somewhat varied dance. The ladies did well, because they liked it, but t=
he
gentlemen exerted themselves =
from
more selfish motives, for each felt that he must earn his supper, and labored manfully towar=
d that
end. When every one was out of
breath they were allowed to rest; and, indeed, poor Mrs. Smith needed it, for her long dres=
s had
tripped her up many times. The
little maid passed round molasses and water in such small cups that one guest actually empti=
ed
nine. I refrain from mentioni=
ng his
name, because this mild beverage affected him so much that he put cup and all into =
his
mouth at the ninth round, and choked
himself publicly.
"You must ask Nan to play and sing
now," said Daisy to her =
brother,
who sat looking very much like an owl, as he gravely regarded the festive scene between=
his
high collars.
"Give us a song, mum," said the
obedient guest, secretly wond=
ering
where the piano was.
Miss Smith sailed up to an old secretary w=
hich
stood in the room, threw back=
the
lid of the writing-desk, and sitting down before it, accompanied herself with a vigor w=
hich
made the old desk rattle as s=
he
sang that new and lovely song, beginning
"Gaily the troubadour
Touched his guitar,
As he was hastening
Home from the war."
The gentlemen applauded so enthusiastically
that she gave them "Boun=
ding
Billows," "Little Bo-Peep," and other gems of song, till they were obliged to hint that the=
y had
had enough. Grateful for the
praises bestowed upon her daughter, Mrs. Smith graciously announced,
"Now we will have tea. Sit down
carefully, and don't grab."
It was beautiful to see the air of pride w=
ith
which the good lady did the h=
onors
of her table, and the calmness with which she bore the little mishaps that occurred. The =
best
pie flew wildly on the floor =
when
she tried to cut it with a very dull knife; the bread and butter vanished with a rapidity calculate=
d to
dismay a housekeeper's soul; =
and,
worst of all, the custards were so soft that they had to be drunk up, instead of being eaten
elegantly with the new tin spoons.
I grieve to state that Miss Smith squabbled
with the maid for the best ju=
mble,
which caused Bess to toss the whole dish into the air, and burst out crying amid a rain of
falling cakes. She was comfor=
ted by
a seat at the table, and the sugar-bowl to empty; but during this flurry a large plate of
patties was mysteriously lost, and <=
/span>could
not be found. They were the chief ornament of the feast, and Mrs. Smith was indignant at the lo=
ss,
for she had made them herself=
, and
they were beautiful to behold. I put it to any lady if it was not hard to have one dozen del=
icious
patties (made of flour, salt,=
and
water, with a large raisin in the middle of each, and much sugar over the whole) swept away a=
t one
fell swoop?
"You hid them, Tommy; I know you
did!" cried the outraged hostess,
threatening her suspected guest with the milk-pot.
"I didn't!"
"You did!"
"It isn't proper to contradict,"
said Nan, who was hastily eating up
the jelly during the fray.
"Give them back, Demi," said Tom=
my.
"That's a fib, you've got them in your
own pocket," bawled Demi, roused
by the false accusation.
"Let's take 'em away from him. It's t=
oo
bad to make Daisy cry," =
suggested
Nat, who found his first ball more exciting than he expected.
Daisy was already weeping, Bess like a dev=
oted
servant mingled her tears with
those of her mistress, and Nan denounced the entire race of boys as "plaguey
things." Meanwhile the battle raged&n=
bsp;
among the gentlemen, for, when the two defenders of innocence fell upon the foe, that hardened y=
outh
intrenched himself behind a t=
able
and pelted them with the stolen tarts, which were very effective missiles, being nearly a=
s hard
as bullets. While his ammunit=
ion
held out the besieged prospered, but the moment the last patty flew over the parapet, =
the
villain was seized, dragged h=
owling
from the room, and cast upon the hall floor in an ignominious heap. The conquerors t=
hen
returned flushed with victory=
, and
while Demi consoled poor Mrs. Smith, Nat and Nan collected the scattered tarts, rep=
laced
each raisin in its proper bed, and
rearranged the dish so that it really looked almost as well as ever. But their glory had departed=
, for
the sugar was gone, and no one
cared to eat them after the insult offered to them.
"I guess we had better go," said
Demi, suddenly, as Aunt Jo's voice <=
/span>was
heard on the stairs.
"P'r'aps we had," and Nat hastily
dropped a stray jumble that he had
just picked up.
But Mrs. Jo was among them before the retr=
eat
was accomplished, and into her
sympathetic ear the young ladies poured the story of their woes.
"No more balls for these boys till th=
ey
have atoned for this bad beha=
vior
by doing something kind to you," said Mrs. Jo, shaking her head at the three culprits.
"We were only in fun," began Dem=
i.
"I don't like fun that makes other pe=
ople
unhappy. I am disappointed in=
you,
Demi, for I hoped you would never learn to=
tease Daisy. Such a kind little sister as she is to you."
"Boys always tease their sisters; Tom
says so," muttered Demi.
"I don't intend that my boys shall, a=
nd I
must send Daisy home if you c=
annot
play happily together," said Aunt Jo, soberly.
At this awful threat, Demi sidled up to his
sister, and Daisy hastily dri=
ed her
tears, for to be separated was the worst misfortune that could happen to the twins.
"Nat was bad, too, and Tommy was badd=
est
of all," observed Nan, f=
earing
that two of the sinners would not get their fair share of punishment.
"I am sorry," said Nat, much
ashamed.
"I ain't!" bawled Tommy through =
the
keyhole, where he was listeni=
ng
with all his might.
Mrs. Jo wanted very much to laugh, but kept
her countenance, and said
impressively, as she pointed to the door,
"You can go, boys, but remember, you =
are
not to speak to or play with =
the
little girls till I give you leave. You don't deserve the pleasure, so I forbid it."
The ill-mannered young gentlemen hastily
retired, to be received outsi=
de
with derision and scorn by the unrepentant Bangs, who would not associate with them for =
at
least fifteen minutes. Daisy =
was
soon consoled for the failure of her ball, but lamented the edict that parted her from her bro=
ther,
and mourned over his short-co=
mings
in her tender little heart. Nan rather enjoyed the trouble, and went about turning up=
her
pug nose at the three, especi=
ally
Tommy, who pretended not to care, and loudly proclaimed his satisfaction at bei=
ng rid
of those "stupid girls." But&nbs=
p;
in his secret soul he soon repented of the rash act that caused this=
banishment from the society he lov=
ed,
and every hour of separation =
taught
him the value of the "stupid girls."
The others gave in very soon, and longed t=
o be
friends, for now there was no=
Daisy
to pet and cook for them; no Nan to amuse and doctor them; and, worst of all, no=
Mrs.
Jo to make home life pleasant=
and
life easy for them. To their great affliction, Mrs. Jo seemed to consider herself one of =
the
offended girls, for she hardly spoke
to the outcasts, looked as if she did not see them when she passed, and was always too busy no=
w to
attend to their requests. This
sudden and entire exile from favor cast a gloom over their souls, for when Mother Bhaer deser=
ted
them, their sun had set at no=
on-day,
as it were, and they had no refuge left.
This unnatural state of things actually la=
sted
for three days, then they cou=
ld
bear it no longer, and fearing that the eclipse might become total, went to Mr. Bhaer fo=
r help
and counsel.
It is my private opinion that he had recei=
ved
instructions how to behave if=
the
case should be laid before him. But no one suspected it, and he gave the afflicted boys=
some
advice, which they gratefully
accepted and carried out in the following manner:
Secluding themselves in the garret, they d=
evoted
several play-hours to the
manufacture of some mysterious machine, which took so much paste that Asia grumb=
led,
and the little girls wondered
mightily. Nan nearly got her inquisitive nose pinched in the door, trying to see what was g=
oing
on, and Daisy sat about, open=
ly
lamenting that they could not all play nicely together, and not have any dreadful secrets. Wed=
nesday
afternoon was fine, and after=
a
good deal of consultation about wind and weather, Nat and Tommy went off, bearing an immense=
flat parcel
hidden under many newspapers.=
Nan
nearly died with suppressed curiosity,&nbs=
p;
Daisy nearly cried with vexation, and both quite trembled with interest when Demi marched into Mr=
s.
Bhaer's room, hat in hand, and
said, in the politest tone possible to a mortal boy of his years,
"Please, Aunt Jo, would you and the g=
irls
come out to a surprise party =
we
have made for you? Do it's a very nice one."
"Thank you, we will come with pleasur=
e;
only, I must take Teddy with
me," replied Mrs. Bhaer, with a smile that cheered Demi like sunshine after rain.
"We'd like to have him. The little wa=
gon
is all ready for the girls; y=
ou
won't mind walking just up to Pennyroyal Hill, will you Aunty?"
"I should like it exceedingly; but are
you quite sure I shall not be in the
way?"
"Oh, no, indeed! we want you very muc=
h;
and the party will be spoilt =
if you
don't come," cried Demi, with great earnestness.
"Thank you kindly, sir;" and Aun=
t Jo
made him a grand curtsey, for she
liked frolics as well as any of them.
"Now, young ladies, we must not keep =
them
waiting; on with the hats, an=
d let
us be off at once. I'm all impatience to know what the surprise is."
As Mrs. Bhaer spoke every one bustled abou=
t,
and in five minutes the three
little girls and Teddy were packed into the "clothes-basket," as they
called the wicker wagon which Toby <=
/span>drew.
Demi walked at the head of the procession, and Mrs. Jo brought up the rear, escorted by K=
it. It
was a most imposing party, I =
assure
you, for Toby had a red feather-duster in his head, two remarkable flags waved over the
carriage, Kit had a blue bow on his
neck, which nearly drove him wild, Demi wore a nosegay of dandelions in his buttonhole, and =
Mrs.
Jo carried the queer Japanese
umbrella in honor of the occasion.
The girls had little flutters of excitement
all the way; and Teddy was so
charmed with the drive that he kept dropping his hat overboard, and when it was taken f=
rom
him he prepared to tumble out
himself, evidently feeling that it behooved him to do something for the amusement of the
party.
When they came to the hill "nothing w=
as
to be seen but the grass blow=
ing in
the wind," as the fairy books say, and the children looked disappointed. But Demi said=
, in
his most impressive manner, <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Now, you all get out and stand still,
and the surprise party with c=
ome
in;" with which remark he retired behind a rock, over which heads had been bobbing at interval=
s for
the last half-hour.
A short pause of intense suspense, and then
Nat, Demi, and Tommy marched =
forth,
each bearing a new kite, which they
presented to the three young ladies. Shrieks of delight arose, but were silenced by the boys, who sai=
d,
with faces brimful of merrime=
nt,
"That isn't all the surprise;" and, running behind the rock, again emerged bearing a four=
th
kite of superb size, on which was
printed, in bright yellow letters, "For Mother Bhaer."
"We thought you'd like one, too, beca=
use
you were angry with us, and t=
ook
the girls' part," cried all three, shaking with laughter, for this part of the affair evidently =
was a
surprise to Mrs. Jo.
She clapped her hands, and joined in the
laugh, looking thoroughly tic=
kled
at the joke.
"Now, boys, that is regularly splendi=
d!
Who did think of it?" she asked,
receiving the monster kite with as much pleasure as the little girls did theirs.
"Uncle Fritz proposed it when we plan=
ned
to make the others; he said y=
ou'd
like it, so we made a bouncer," answered Demi, beaming with satisfaction at the s=
uccess
of the plot.
"Uncle Fritz knows what I like. Yes,
these are magnificent kites, =
and we
were wishing we had some the other day when you were flying yours, weren't we, girls?&q=
uot;
"That's why we made them for you,&quo=
t;
cried Tommy, standing on his =
head
as the most appropriate way of expressing his emotions.
"Let us fly them," said energetic
Nan.
"I don't know how," began Daisy.=
"We'll show you, we want to!" cr=
ied
all the boys in a burst of de=
votion,
as Demi took Daisy's, Tommy Nan's, and Nat, with difficulty, persuaded Bess to let =
go her
little blue one.
"Aunty, if you will wait a minute, we=
'll
pitch yours for you," said Demi,
feeling that Mrs. Bhaer's favor must not be lost again by any neglect of theirs.
"Bless your buttons, dear, I know all=
about
it; and here is a boy who wil=
l toss
up for me," added Mrs. Jo, as the professor peeped over the rock with a face full of =
fun.
He came out at once, tossed up the big kit=
e,
and Mrs. Jo ran off with it i=
n fine
style, while the children stood and enjoyed the spectacle. One by one all the kite=
s went
up, and floated far overhead =
like
gay birds, balancing themselves on the fresh breeze that blew steadily over the hill. =
Such a
merry time as they had! runni=
ng and
shouting, sending up the kites or pulling them down, watching their antics in the air, =
and
feeling them tug at the string like
live creatures trying to escape. Nan was quite wild with the fun, Daisy thought the new play ne=
arly
as interesting as dolls, and =
little
Bess was so fond of her "boo tite," that she would only let it clouds.
By and by every one got tired, and fasteni=
ng
the kite-strings to trees and
fences, all sat down to rest, except Mr. Bhaer, who went off to look at the cows, with Tedd=
y on
his shoulder.
"Did you ever have such a good time as
this before?" asked Nat, as they
lay about on the grass, nibbling pennyroyal like a flock of sheep.
"Not since I last flew a kite, years =
ago,
when I was a girl," answ=
ered
Mrs. Jo.
"I'd like to have known you when you =
were
a girl, you must have been so
jolly," said Nat. =
"I was a naughty little girl, I am so=
rry
to say."
"I like naughty little girls,"
observed Tommy, looking at Nan, who
made a frightful grimace at him in return for the compliment.
"Why don't I remember you then, Aunty?
Was I too young?" asked =
Demi.
"Rather, dear."
"I suppose my memory hadn't come then.
Grandpa says that different p=
arts
of the mind unfold as we grow up, and the memory part of my mind hadn't unfolded wh=
en you
were little, so I can't remem=
ber
how you looked," explained Demi.
"Now, little Socrates, you had better
keep that question for grandp=
a, it
is beyond me," said Aunt Jo, putting on the extinguisher.
"Well, I will, he knows about those
things, and you don't," returned
Demi, feeling that on the whole kites were better adapted to the comprehension of the present compa=
ny.
"Tell about the last time you flew a
kite," said Nat, for Mrs. Jo had
laughed as she spoke of it, and he thought it might be interesting. =
"Oh, it was only rather funny, for I =
was
a great girl of fifteen, and =
was
ashamed to be seen at such a play. So Uncle Teddy and I privately made our kites, and stol=
e away
to fly them. We had a capital=
time,
and were resting as we are now, when suddenly we heard voices, and saw a party of y=
oung
ladies and gentlemen coming b=
ack
from a picnic. Teddy did not mind, though he was rather a large boy to be playing w=
ith a
kite, but I was in a great fl=
urry,
for I knew I should be sadly laughed at, and never hear the last of it, because my wild ways a=
mused
the neighbors as much as Nan'=
s do
us.
"'What shall I do?' I whispered to Te=
ddy,
as the voices drew nearer and
nearer.
"'I'll show you,' he said, and whippi=
ng
out his knife he cut the stri=
ngs.
Away flew the kites, and when the people came up we were picking flowers as properly a=
s you
please. They never suspected =
us,
and we had a grand laugh over our narrow escape."
"Were the kites lost, Aunty?" as=
ked
Daisy.
"Quite lost, but I did not care, for I
made up my mind that it would be
best to wait till I was an old lady before I played with kites again; and you see I have waited,&=
quot;
said Mrs. Jo, beginning to pull in
the big kite, for it was getting late.
"Must we go now?"
"I must, or you won't have any supper;
and that sort of surprise par=
ty
would not suit you, I think, my chickens."
"Hasn't our party been a nice one?&qu=
ot;
asked Tommy, complacently.
"Splendid!" answered every one. =
"Do you know why? It is because your
guests have behaved themselve=
s, and
tried to make everything go well. You understand what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes'm," was all the boys said, =
but
they stole a shamefaced look at one
another, as they meekly shouldered their kites and walked home, thinking of another party wh=
ere
the guests had not behaved th=
emselves,
and things had gone badly on account of it.
July had come, and haying begun; the little
gardens were doing finely and=
the
long summer days were full of pleasant hours. The house stood open from morning till
night, and the lads lived out of doors,
except at school time. The lessons were short, and there were many holidays, for the Bhaers
believed in cultivating healthy bodies
by much exercise, and our short summers are best used in out-of-door work. Such a rosy, sun=
burnt,
hearty set as the boys became=
; such
appetites as they had; such sturdy arms and legs, as outgrew jackets and trousers; such
laughing and racing all over the place;
such antics in house and barn; such adventures in the tramps over hill and dale; and such
satisfaction in the hearts of the worthy&n=
bsp;
Bhaers, as they saw their flock prospering in mind and body, I cannot begin to describe. Only one=
thing
was needed to make them quite
happy, and it came when they least expected it.
One balmy night when the little lads were =
in
bed, the elder ones bathing d=
own at
the brook, and Mrs. Bhaer undressing Teddy in her parlor, he suddenly cried out,
"Oh, my Danny!" and pointed to&n=
bsp;
the window, where the moon shone brightly.
"No, lovey, he is not there, it was t=
he
pretty moon," said his m=
other.
"No, no, Danny at a window; Teddy saw
him," persisted baby, mu=
ch
excited.
"It might have been," and Mrs. B=
haer
hurried to the window, hoping=
it
would prove true. But the face was gone, and nowhere appeared any signs of a mortal boy=
; she
called his name, ran to the f=
ront
door with Teddy in his little shirt, and made him call too, thinking the baby voice might have=
more
effect than her own. No one
answered, nothing appeared , and they went back much disappointed. Teddy would not be
satisfied with the moon, and =
after
he was in his crib kept popping up his head to ask if Danny was not "tummin' soon." =
By and by he fell asleep, the lads trooped=
up
to bed, the house grew still,=
and
nothing but the chirp of the crickets broke the soft silence of the summer night. Mrs. =
Bhaer
sat sewing, for the big baske=
t was
always piled with socks, full of portentous holes, and thinking of the lost boy. She had
decided that baby had been mi=
staken,
and did not even disturb Mr. Bhaer by telling him of the child's fancy, for the poor man got
little time to himself till the boys
were abed, and he was busy writing letters. It was past ten when she rose to shut up the house=
. As
she paused a minute to enjoy =
the
lovely scene from the steps, something white caught her eye on one of the hay-cocks scatte=
red
over the lawn. The children h=
ad
been playing there all the afternoon, and, fancying that Nan had left her hat as usual, Mrs. Bh=
aer
went out to get it. But as she approached,
she saw that it was neither hat nor handkerchief, but a shirt sleeve with a brown hand sti=
cking
out of it. She hurried round =
the
hay-cock, and there lay Dan, fast asleep.
Ragged, dirty, thin, and worn-out he looke=
d;
one foot was bare, the other =
tied
up in the old gingham jacket which he had taken from his own back to use as a clumsy ba=
ndage
for some hurt. He seemed to h=
ave
hidden himself behind the hay-cock, but in his sleep had thrown out the arm that had betray=
ed
him. He sighed and muttered a=
s if
his dreams disturbed him, and once when he moved, he groaned as if in pain, but still s=
lept
on quite spent with weariness.
"He must not lie here," said Mrs.
Bhaer, and stooping over him she gently
called his name. He opened his eyes and looked at her, as if she was a part of his dream, for h=
e smiled
and said drowsily, "Moth=
er
Bhaer, I've come home." <=
/span>
The look, the words, touched her very much,
and she put her hand under hi=
s head
to lift him up, saying in her cordial way,
"I thought you would, and I'm so glad=
to
see you, Dan." He seemed to
wake thoroughly then, and started up looking about him as if he suddenly remembered where he was, =
and
doubted even that kind welcom=
e. His
face changed, and he said in his old rough way,
"I was going off in the morning. I on=
ly
stopped to peek in, as I went
by."
"But why not come in, Dan? Didn't you
hear us call you? Teddy saw, =
and
cried for you."
"Didn't suppose you'd let me in,"=
; he
said, fumbling with a little =
bundle
which he had taken up as if going immediately.
"Try and see," was all Mrs. Bhaer
answered, holding out her hand and
pointing to the door, where the light shone hospitably.
With a long breath, as if a load was off h=
is
mind, Dan took up a stout sti=
ck,
and began to limp towards the house, but stopped suddenly, to say inquiringly,
"Mr. Bhaer won't like it. I ran away =
from
Page."
"He knows it, and was sorry, but it w=
ill
make no difference. Are you
lame?" asked Mrs. Jo, as he limped on again.
"Getting over a wall a stone fell on =
my
foot and smashed it. I don't =
mind,"
and he did his best to hide the pain each step cost him.
Mrs. Bhaer helped him into her own room, a=
nd,
once there, he dropped into a
chair, and laid his head back, white and faint with weariness and suffering.
"My poor Dan! drink this, and then ea=
t a
little; you are at home now, =
and
Mother Bhaer will take good care of you."
He only looked up at her with eyes full of
gratitude, as he drank the wi=
ne she
held to his lips, and then began slowly to eat the food she brought him. Each mouthful see=
med to
put heart into him, and prese=
ntly
he began to talk as if anxious to have her know all about him.
"Where have you been, Dan?" she
asked, beginning to get out s=
ome
bandages.
"I ran off more'n a month ago. Page w=
as
good enough, but too strict. I
didn't like it, so I cut away down the river with a man who was going in his boat. That's why =
they
couldn't tell where I'd gone. When
I left the man, I worked for a couple of weeks with a farmer, but I thrashed his boy, and then t=
he old
man thrashed me, and I ran off
again and walked here." <=
/span>
"All the way?"
"Yes, the man didn't pay me, and I
wouldn't ask for it. Took it out in
beating the boy," and Dan laughed, yet looked ashamed, as he glanced at his ragged clothes and =
dirty
hands.
"How did you live? It was a long, long
tramp for a boy like you."
"Oh, I got on well enough, till I hur=
t my
foot. Folks gave me things to=
eat,
and I slept in barns and tramped by day. I got lost trying to make a short cut, or I'd have been=
here
sooner."
"But if you did not mean to come in a=
nd
stay with us, what were you g=
oing
to do?"
"I thought I'd like to see Teddy agai=
n,
and you; and then I was going=
back
to my old work in the city, only I was so tired I went to sleep on the hay. I'd have been go=
ne in
the morning, if you hadn't fo=
und
me."
"Are you sorry I did?" and Mrs. =
Jo
looked at him with a half merry, half
reproachful look, as she knelt down to look at his wounded foot.
The color came up into Dan's face, and he =
kept
his eyes fixed on his plate, =
as he
said very low, "No, ma'am, I'm glad, I wanted to stay, but I was afraid you " =
He did not finish, for Mrs. Bhaer interrup=
ted
him by an exclamation of pity=
, as
she saw his foot, for it was seriously hurt.
"When did you do it?"
"Three days ago."
"And you have walked on it in this
state?"
"I had a stick, and I washed it at ev=
ery
brook I came to, and one woma=
n gave
me a rag to put on it." <=
/span>
"Mr. Bhaer must see and dress it at
once," and Mrs. Jo hastened into
the next room, leaving the door ajar behind her, so that Dan heard all that passed.
"Fritz, the boy has come back." =
"Who? Dan?"
"Yes, Teddy saw him at the window, an=
d he
called to him, but he went aw=
ay and
hid behind the hay-cocks on the lawn. I found him there just now fast asleep, and ha=
lf
dead with weariness and pain. He
ran away from Page a month ago, and has been making his way to us ever since. He pretends that=
he
did not mean to let us see hi=
m, but
go on to the city, and his old work, after a look at us. It is evident, however, that the hope of=
being
taken in has led him here thr=
ough
every thing, and there he is waiting to know if you will forgive and take him back." <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Did he say so?"
"His eyes did, and when I waked him, =
he
said, like a lost child, 'Mot=
her
Bhaer, I've come home.' I hadn't the heart to scold him, and just took him in like a poor l=
ittle
black sheep come back to the =
fold.
I may keep him, Fritz?" <=
/span>
"Of course you may! This proves to me
that we have a hold on the bo=
y's
heart, and I would no more send him away now than I would my own Rob."
Dan heard a soft little sound, as if Mrs. =
Jo
thanked her husband without w=
ords,
and, in the instant's silence that followed, two great tears that had slowly gathered in =
the
boy's eyes brimmed over and r=
olled
down his dusty cheeks. No one saw them, for he brushed them hastily away; but in that lit=
tle
pause I think Dan's old distrust for
these good people vanished for ever, the soft spot in his heart was touched, and he felt an impetu=
ous
desire to prove himself worth=
y of
the love and pity that was so patient and forgiving. He said nothing, he only wished the w=
ish
with all his might, resolved =
to try
in his blind boyish way, and sealed his resolution with the tears which neither pain, fatigue,=
nor
loneliness could wring from h=
im.
"Come and see his foot. I am afraid i=
t is
badly hurt, for he has kept on
three days through heat and dust, with nothing but water and an old jacket to bind it up with. I t=
ell
you, Fritz, that boy is a brave lad,
and will make a fine man yet."
"I hope so, for your sake, enthusiast=
ic
woman, your faith deserves su=
ccess.
Now, I will go and see your little Spartan. Where is he?"
"In my room; but, dear, you'll be very
kind to him, no matter how gr=
uff he
seems. I am sure that is the way to conquer him. He won't bear sternness nor much restraint,=
but a
soft word and infinite patien=
ce
will lead him as it used to lead me."
"As if you ever like this little
rascal!" cried Mr. Bhaer, laughing,&n=
bsp;
yet half angry at the idea.
"I was in spirit, though I showed it =
in a
different way. I seem to know=
by
instinct how he feels, to understand what will win and touch him, and to sympathize with =
his
temptations and faults. I am =
glad I
do, for it will help me to help him; and if I can make a good man of this wild boy, it will be t=
he
best work of my life." =
span>
"God bless the work, and help the
worker!"
Mr. Bhaer spoke now as earnestly as she had
done, and both came in togeth=
er to
find Dan's head down upon his arm, as if he was quite overcome by sleep. But he lo=
oked
up quickly, and tried to rise=
as
Mr. Bhaer said pleasantly,
"So you like Plumfield better than Pa=
ge's
farm. Well, let us see if we =
can
get on more comfortably this time than we did before."
"Thanky, sir," said Dan, trying =
not
to be gruff, and finding it easier <=
/span>than
he expected.
"Now, the foot! Ach! this is not well=
. We
must have Dr. Firth to-morrow=
. Warm
water, Jo, and old linen."
Mr. Bhaer bathed and bound up the wounded
foot, while Mrs. Jo prepared =
the
only empty bed in the house. It was in the little guest-chamber leading from the par=
lor,
and often used when the lads =
were
poorly, for it saved Mrs. Jo from running up and down, and the invalids could see what was
going on. When it was ready, =
Mr.
Bhaer took the boy in his arms, and carried him in, helped him undress, laid him on the little wh=
ite
bed, and left him with another hand-shake,
and a fatherly "Good-night, my son."
Dan dropped asleep at once, and slept heav=
ily
for several hours; then his f=
oot
began to throb and ache, and he awoke to toss about uneasily, trying not to groan lest=
any
one should hear him, for he w=
as a
brave lad, and did bear pain like "a little Spartan," as Mr. Bhaer called him.
Mrs. Jo had a way of flitting about the ho=
use
at night, to shut the windows=
if
the wind grew chilly, to draw mosquito curtains over Teddy, or look after Tommy, who
occasionally walked in his sl=
eep.
The least noise waked her, and as she often heard imaginary robbers, cats, and conflagrations,=
the
doors stood open all about, so her
quick ear caught the sound of Dan's little moans, and she was up in a minute. He was just giving=
his
hot pillow a despairing thump=
when
a light came glimmering through the hall, and Mrs. Jo crept in, looking like a droll gho=
st,
with her hair in a great knob on the
top of her head, and a long gray dressing-gown trailing behind her.
"Are you in pain, Dan?"
"It's pretty bad; but I didn't mean t=
o wake
you."
"I'm a sort of owl, always flying abo=
ut
at night. Yes, your foot is l=
ike
fire; the bandages must be wet again," and away flapped the maternal owl for more cooling stuf=
f, and
a great mug of ice water.
"Oh, that's so nice!" sighed Dan=
, the
wet bandages went on again, a=
nd a
long draught of water cooled his thirsty throat.
"There, now, sleep your best, and don=
't
be frightened if you see me a=
gain,
for I'll slip down by and by, and give you another sprinkle."
As she spoke, Mrs. Jo stooped to turn the
pillow and smooth the bed-clo=
thes,
when, to her great surprise, Dan put his arm around her neck, drew her face down to hi=
s, and
kissed her, with a broken &qu=
ot;Thank
you, ma'am," which said more than the most eloquent speech could have done; for the ha=
sty
kiss, the muttered words, mea=
nt,
"I'm sorry, I will try." She understood it, accepted the unspoken confession, and did not s=
poil
it by any token of surprise. =
She
only remembered that he had no mother, kissed the brown cheek half hidden on the pillow, a=
s if
ashamed of the little touch of tenderness,
and left him, saying, what he long remembered, "You are my boy now, and if you choose =
you
can make me proud and glad to=
say
so."
Once again, just at dawn, she stole down to
find him so fast asleep that =
he did
not wake, and showed no sign of consciousness as she wet his foot, except that the line=
s of
pain smoothed themselves away=
, and
left his face quite peaceful.
The day was Sunday, and the house so still
that he never waked till near=
noon,
and, looking round him, saw an eager little face peering in at the door. He held out his ar=
ms,
and Teddy tore across the roo=
m to
cast himself bodily upon the bed, shouting, "My Danny's tum!" as he hugged and wriggl=
ed
with delight. Mrs. Bhaer appe=
ared
next, bringing breakfast, and never seeming to see how shamefaced Dan looked at the memor=
y of
the little scene last night. =
Teddy
insisted on giving him his "betfus," and fed him like a baby, which, as he was not very hu=
ngry,
Dan enjoyed very much. =
Then came the doctor, and the poor Spartan=
had
a bad time of it, for some of=
the
little bones in his foot were injured, and putting them to rights was such a painful =
job,
that Dan's lips were white, a=
nd
great drops stood on his forehead, though he never cried out, and only held Mrs. Jo's hand so ti=
ght
that it was red long afterwar=
ds.
"You must keep this boy quiet, for a =
week
at least, and not let him put=
his
foot to the ground. By that time, I shall know whether he may hop a little with a crutch, or=
stick
to his bed for a while longer=
,"
said Dr. Firth, putting up the shining instruments that Dan did not like to see.
"It will get well sometime, won't
it?" he asked, looking alarmed at&nbs=
p;
the word "crutches."
"I hope so;" and with that the
doctor departed, leaving Dan much =
span>depressed;
for the loss of a foot is a dreadful calamity to an active boy.
"Don't be troubled, I am a famous nur=
se,
and we will have you tramping=
about
as well as ever in a month," said Mrs. Jo, taking a hopeful view of the case.
But the fear of being lame haunted Dan, and
even Teddy's caresses did not=
cheer
him; so Mrs. Jo proposed that one or two of the boys should come in and pay him a little
visit, and asked whom he woul=
d like
to see.
"Nat and Demi; I'd like my hat too,
there's something in it I guess they'd
like to see. I suppose you threw away my bundle of plunder?" said Dan, looking r=
ather
anxious as he put the question.
"No, I kept it, for I thought they mu=
st
be treasures of some kind, yo=
u took
such care of them;" and Mrs. Jo brought him his old straw hat stuck full of butterflie=
s and
beetles, and a handkerchief c=
ontaining
a collection of odd things picked up on his way: birds' eggs, carefully done up in moss, c=
urious
shells and stones, bits of fu=
ngus,
and several little crabs, in a state of great indignation at their imprisonment.
"Could I have something to put these
fellers in? Mr. Hyde and I fo=
und
'em, and they are first-rate ones, so I'd like to keep and watch 'em; can I?" asked Dan,
forgetting his foot, and laughing to
see the crabs go sidling and backing over the bed.
"Of course you can; Polly's old cage =
will
be just the thing. Don't let =
them
nip Teddy's toes while I get it;" and away went Mrs. Jo, leaving Dan overjoyed to find that=
his
treasures were not considered
rubbish, and thrown away.
Nat, Demi, and the cage arrived together, =
and
the crabs were settled in the=
ir new
house, to the great delight of the boys, who, in the excitement of the performance,=
forgot
any awkwardness they might
otherwise have felt in greeting the runaway. To these admiring listeners Dan related his
adventures much more fully th=
an he
had done to the Bhaers. Then he displayed his "plunder," and described each article so well=
, that
Mrs. Jo, who had retired to t=
he
next room to leave them free, was surprised and interested, as well as amused, at their boyish ch=
atter.
"How much the lad knows of these thin=
gs!
how absorbed he is in them! a=
nd
what a mercy it is just now, for he cares so little for books, it would be hard to amuse h=
im
while he is laid up; but the =
boys
can supply him with beetles and stones to any extent, and I am glad to find out this taste of =
his;
it is a good one, and may per=
haps
prove the making of him. If he should turn out a great naturalist, and Nat a musician, I =
should
have cause to be proud of this
year's work;" and Mrs. Jo sat smiling over her book as she built castles in the air, just as =
she
used to do when a girl, only then =
span>they
were for herself, and now they were for other people, which is the reason perhaps that some of th=
em
came to pass in reality for c=
harity
is an excellent foundation to build anything upon.
Nat was most interested in the adventures,=
but
Demi enjoyed the beetles and =
butterflies
immensely, drinking in the history of their changeful little lives as if it we=
re a
new and lovely sort of fairy tale =
span>for,
even in his plain way, Dan told it well, and found great satisfaction in the thought that h=
ere at
least the small philosopher c=
ould
learn of him. So interested were they in the account of catching a musk rat, whose skin was
among the treasures, that Mr. Bhaer
had to come himself to tell Nat and Demi it was time for the walk. Dan looked so wistfully afte=
r them
as they ran off that Father B=
haer
proposed carrying him to the sofa in the parlor for a little change of air and scene.
When he was established, and the house qui=
et,
Mrs. Jo, who sat near by show=
ing
Teddy pictures, said, in an interested tone, as she nodded towards the treasures still=
in
Dan's hands,
"Where did you learn so much about th=
ese
things?"
"I always liked 'em, but didn't know =
much
till Mr. Hyde told me." <=
/span>
"Oh, he was a man who lived round in =
the
woods studying these things I=
don't
know what you call him and wrote about frogs, and fishes, and so on. He stayed at Pa=
ge's,
and used to want me to go and=
help
him, and it was great fun, 'cause he told me ever so much, and was uncommon jolly and wise. H=
ope
I'll see him again sometime.&=
quot;
"I hope you will," said Mrs. Jo,=
for
Dan's face had brightened up, and
he was so interested in the matter that he forgot his usual taciturnity.
"Why, he could make birds come to him,
and rabbits and squirrels did=
n't
mind him any more than if he was a tree. Did you ever tickle a lizard with a straw?" asked=
Dan,
eagerly.
"No, but I should like to try it.&quo=
t;
"Well, I've done it, and it's so funn=
y to
see 'em turn over and stretch out,
they like it so much. Mr. Hyde used to do it; and he'd make snakes listen to him while he whis=
tled,
and he knew just when certain
flowers would blow, and bees wouldn't sting him, and he'd tell the wonderfullest things abou=
t fish
and flies, and the Indians an=
d the
rocks."
"I think you were so fond of going wi=
th
Mr. Hyde, you rather neglecte=
d Mr.
Page," said Mrs. Jo, slyly.
"Yes, I did; I hated to have to weed =
and
hoe when I might be tramping =
round
with Mr. Hyde. Page thought such things silly, and called Mr. Hyde crazy because he'd=
lay
hours watching a trout or a b=
ird."
"Suppose you say lie instead of lay, =
it
is better grammar," said Mrs. <=
/span>Jo,
very gently; and then added, "Yes, Page is a thorough farmer, and would not understand that a
naturalist's work was just as interesting,
and perhaps just as important as his own. Now, Dan, if you really love these things, as I=
think
you do, and I am glad to see =
it,
you shall have time to study them and books to help you; but I want you to do something besides, =
and to
do it faithfully, else you wi=
ll be
sorry by and by, and find that you have got to begin again."
"Yes, ma'am," said Dan, meekly, =
and
looked a little scared by the serious
tone of the last remarks, for he hated books, yet had evidently made up his mind to study
anything she proposed. =
"Do you see that cabinet with twelve
drawers in it?" was the next =
span>very
unexpected question.
Dan did see two tall old-fashioned ones
standing on either side of the
piano; he knew them well, and had often seen nice bits of string, nails, brown paper, and su=
ch
useful matters come out of the various
drawers. He nodded and smiled. Mrs. Jo went on,
"Well, don't you think those drawers
would be good places to put y=
our
eggs, and stones, and shells, and lichens?"
"Oh, splendid, but you wouldn't like =
my
things 'clutterin' round,' as Mr.
Page used to say, would you?" cried Dan, sitting up to survey the old piece of furniture with
sparkling eyes.
"I like litter of that sort; and if I
didn't, I should give you the drawers,
because I have a regard for children's little treasures, and I think they should be treated
respectfully. Now, I am going to make
a bargain with you, Dan, and I hope you will keep it honorably. Here are twelve good-si=
zed
drawers, one for each month o=
f the
year, and they shall be yours as fast as you earn them, by doing the little duties that be=
long
to you. I believe in rewards of a
certain kind, especially for young folks; they help us along, and though we may begin by being good =
for
the sake of the reward, if it=
is
rightly used, we shall soon learn to love goodness for itself."
"Do you have 'em?" asked Dan,
looking as if this was new talk for
him.
"Yes, indeed! I haven't learnt to get=
on
without them yet. My rewards =
are
not drawers, or presents, or holidays, but they are things which I like as much as you=
do
the others. The good behavior=
and
success of my boys is one of the rewards I love best, and I work for it as I want you to=
work
for your cabinet. Do what you
dislike, and do it well, and you get two rewards, one, the prize you see and hold; the other, the
satisfaction of a duty cheerfully =
span>performed.
Do you understand that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"We all need these little helps; so y=
ou
shall try to do your lessons =
and
your work, play kindly with all the boys, and use your holidays well; and if you bring me a good r=
eport,
or if I see and know it witho=
ut
words for I'm quick to spy out the good little efforts of my boys you shall have a compartment =
in the
drawer for your treasures. Se=
e,
some are already divided into four parts, and I will have the others made in the same w=
ay, a
place for each week; and when=
the
drawer is filled with curious and pretty things, I shall be as proud of it as you are; prouder=
, I
think for in the pebbles, mos=
ses,
and gay butterflies, I shall see good resolutions carried out, conquered faults, and a promi=
se
well kept. Shall we do this, =
Dan?"
The boys answered with one of the looks wh=
ich
said much, for it showed that=
he
felt and understood her wish and words, although he did not know how to express his
interest and gratitude for such care
and kindness. She understood the look, and seeing by the color that flushed up to his foreh=
ead
that he was touched, as she w=
ished
him to be, she said no more about that side of the new plan, but pulled out the upper dra=
wer,
dusted it, and set it on two =
chairs
before the sofa, saying briskly,
"Now, let us begin at once by putting
those nice beetles in a safe =
place.
These compartments will hold a good deal, you see. I'd pin the butterflies and bugs round the
sides; they will be quite safe there,
and leave room for the heavy things below. I'll give you some cotton wool, and clean paper =
and
pins, and you can get ready f=
or the
week's work."
"But I can't go out to find any new
things," said Dan, looking piteously
at his foot.
"That's true; never mind, we'll let t=
hese
treasures do for this week, a=
nd I
dare say the boys will bring you loads of things if you ask them."
"They don't know the right sort; besi=
des,
if I lay, no, lie here all the time,
I can't work and study, and earn my drawers."
"There are plenty of lessons you can
learn lying there, and several little
jobs of work you can do for me."
"Can I?" and Dan looked both
surprised and pleased. =
"You can learn to be patient and chee=
rful
in spite of pain and no play.=
You
can amuse Teddy for me, wind cotton, read to me when I sew, and do many things without
hurting your foot, which will make
the days pass quickly, and not be wasted ones."
Here Demi ran in with a great butterfly in=
one
hand, and a very ugly little =
toad
in the other.
"See, Dan, I found them, and ran back=
to
give them to you; aren't they
beautiful ones?" panted Demi, all out of breath.
Dan laughed at the toad, and said he had no
place to put him, but the but=
terfly
was a beauty, and if Mrs. Jo would give him a big pin, he would stick it right up in the
drawer.
"I don't like to see the poor thing
struggle on a pin; if it must be killed,
let us put it out of pain at once with a drop of camphor," said Mrs. Jo, getting out the bott=
le.
"I know how to do it Mr. Hyde always
killed 'em that way but I did=
n't
have any camphor, so I use a pin," and Dan gently poured a drop on the insect's head, when th=
e pale
green wings fluttered an inst=
ant,
and then grew still.
This dainty little execution was hardly ov=
er
when Teddy shouted from the
bedroom, "Oh, the little trabs are out, and the big one's eaten 'em all up." Demi and h=
is
aunt ran to the rescue, and found =
span>Teddy
dancing excitedly in a chair, while two little crabs were scuttling about the floor, having =
got
through the wires of the cage. A
third was clinging to the top of the cage, evidently in terror of his life, for below appeared a sad=
yet
funny sight. The big crab had wedged
himself into the little recess where Polly's cup used to stand, and there he sat eating one=
of
his relations in the coolest =
way.
All the claws of the poor victim were pulled off, and he was turned upside down, his upper shel=
l held
in one claw close under the m=
outh
of the big crab like a dish, while he leisurely ate out of it with the other claw, pausing no=
w and
then to turn his queer bulgin=
g eyes
from side to side, and to put out a slender tongue and lick them in a way that made the
children scream with laughter. Mrs.
Jo carried the cage in for Dan to see the sight, while Demi caught and confined the wanderers =
under
an inverted wash-bowl. =
"I'll have to let these fellers go, f=
or I
can't keep 'em in the house," <=
/span>said
Dan, with evident regret.
"I'll take care of them for you, if y=
ou
will tell me how, and they can live
in my turtle-tank just as well as not," said Demi, who found them more interesting even that his
beloved slow turtles. So Dan =
gave
him directions about the wants and habits of the crabs, and Demi bore them away to introduce t=
hem to
their new home and neighbors.
"What a good boy he is!" said Dan, carefully settling the first butterfly, and remembering t=
hat
Demi had given up his walk to=
bring
it to him.
"He ought to be, for a great deal has
been done to make him so."
"He's had folks to tell him things, a=
nd
to help him; I haven't," said <=
/span>Dan,
with a sigh, thinking of his neglected childhood, a thing he seldom did, and feeling as if he h=
ad not
had fair play somehow. =
"I know it, dear, and for that reason=
I
don't expect as much from you=
as
from Demi, though he is younger; you shall have all the help that we can give you now, and=
I
hope to teach you how to help
yourself in the best way. Have you forgotten what Father Bhaer told you when you were here
before, about wanting to be g=
ood,
and asking God to help you?"
"No, ma'am," very low.
"Do you try that way still?"
"No, ma'am," lower still.
"Will you do it every night to please
me?"
"Yes, ma'am," very soberly.
"I shall depend on it, and I think I
shall know if you are faithful to =
span>your
promise, for these things always show to people who believe in them, though not a word is said=
. Now
here is a pleasant story abou=
t a
boy who hurt his foot worse than you did yours; read it, and see how bravely he bore his
troubles."
She put that charming little book, "T=
he
Crofton Boys," into his =
hands,
and left him for an hour, passing in and out from time to time that he might not feel lonely=
. Dan
did not love to read, but soo=
n got
so interested that he was surprised when the boys came home. Daisy brought him a nosegay =
of
wild flowers, and Nan insiste=
d on
helping bring him his supper, as he lay on the sofa with the door open into the dining-room=
, so that
he could see the lads at tabl=
e, and
they could nod socially to him over their bread and butter.
Mr. Bhaer carried him away to his bed earl=
y,
and Teddy came in his night-g=
own to
say good-night, for he went to his little nest with the birds.
"I want to say my prayers to Danny; m=
ay
I?" he asked; and when h=
is
mother said, "Yes," the little fellow knelt down by Dan's bed,
"Pease Dod bess everybody, and hep me=
to
be dood."
Then he went away smiling with sleepy
sweetness over his mother's
shoulder.
But after the evening talk was done, the
evening song sung, and the ho=
use
grew still with beautiful Sunday silence, Dan lay in his pleasant room wide awake, thinking=
new
thoughts, feeling new hopes a=
nd
desires stirring in his boyish heart, for two good angels had entered in: love and gratitude=
began
the work which time and effor=
t were
to finish; and with an earnest wish to keep his first promise, Dan folded his hands toge=
ther
in the Darkness, and softly w=
hispered
Teddy's little prayer, =
"Please God bless every one, and help=
me
to be good."
For a week Dan only moved from bed to sofa=
; a
long week and a hard one, for=
the
hurt foot was very painful at times, the quiet days were very wearisome to the active =
lad,
longing to be out enjoying the
summer weather, and especially difficult was it to be patient. But Dan did his best, and every one
helped him in their various w=
ays;
so the time passed, and he was rewarded at last by hearing the doctor say, on Saturday mornin=
g,
"This foot is doing better than I
expected. Give the lad the crutch =
span>this
afternoon, and let him stump about the house a little."
"Hooray!" shouted Nat, and raced
away to tell the other boys the good
news.
Everybody was very glad, and after dinner =
the
whole flock assembled to beho=
ld Dan
crutch himself up and down the hall a
few times before he settled in the porch to hold a sort of levee. He=
was much pleased at the interest a=
nd
good-will shown him, and brig=
htened
up more and more every minute; for the boys came to pay their respects, the little gir=
ls
fussed about him with stools and cushions,
and Teddy watched over him as if he was a frail creature unable to do anything for himself.=
They
were still sitting and standi=
ng
about the steps, when a carriage stopped at the gate, a hat was waved from it, and with a shou=
t of
"Uncle Teddy! Uncle Tedd=
y!"
Rob scampered down the avenue as fast as his short legs would carry him. All he boys but D=
an ran
after him to see who should be
first to open the gate, and in a moment the carriage drove up with boys swarming all ov=
er it,
while Uncle Teddy sat laughin=
g in
the midst, with his little daughter on his knee.
"Stop the triumphal car and let Jupit=
er
descend," he said, and j=
umping
out ran up the steps to meet Mrs. Bhaer, who stood smiling and clapping her hands lik=
e a
girl.
"How goes it, Teddy?"
"All right, Jo."
Then they shook hands, and Mr. Laurie put =
Bess
into her aunt's arms, saying,=
as
the child hugged her tight, "Goldilocks wanted to see you so much that I ran away wi=
th
her, for I was quite pining for a
sight of you myself. We want to play with your boys for an hour or so, and to see how 'the old wom=
an who
lived in a shoe, and had so m=
any
children she did not know what to do,' is getting on."
"I'm so glad! Play away, and don't get
into mischief," answered Mrs.
Jo, as the lads crowded round the pretty child, admiring her long golden hair, dainty dress, and
lofty ways, for the little &q=
uot;Princess,"
as they called her, allowed no one to kiss her, but sat smiling down upon them, and gracio=
usly
patting their heads with her
little, white hands. They all adored her, especially Rob, who considered her a sort of doll, and=
dared
not touch her lest she should
break, but worshipped her at a respectful distance, made happy by an occasional mark of fav=
or
from her little highness. As =
she
immediately demanded to see Daisy's kitchen, she was borne off by Mrs. Jo, with a train of sm=
all
boys following. The others, all but
Nat and Demi, ran away to the menagerie and gardens to have all in order; for Mr. Laurie alway=
s took
a general survey, and looked
disappointed if things were not flourishing.
Standing on the steps, he turned to Dan,
saying like an old acquaintan=
ce,
though he had only seen him once or twice before,
"How is the foot?"
"Better, sir."
"Rather tired of the house, aren't
you?"
"Guess I am!" and Dan's eyes rov=
ed
away to the green hills and w=
oods
where he longed to be. =
"Suppose we take a little turn before=
the
others come back? That big, e=
asy
carriage will be quite safe and comfortable, and a breath of fresh air will do you good. Get=
a
cushion and a shawl, Demi, and
let's carry Dan off."
The boys thought it a capital joke, and Dan
looked delighted, but asked, =
with
an unexpected burst of virtue,
"Will Mrs. Bhaer like it?"
"Oh, yes; we settled all that a minute
ago."
"You didn't say any thing about it, s=
o I
don't see how you could," said
Demi, inquisitively.
"We have a way of sending messages to=
one
another, without any words. I=
t is a
great improvement on the telegraph."
"I know it's eyes; I saw you lift your
eyebrows, and nod toward the =
carriage,
and Mrs. Bhaer laughed and nodded back again," cried Nat, who was quite at his ease wit=
h kind
Mr. Laurie by this time.
"Right. Now them, come on," and =
in a
minute Dan found himself sett=
led in
the carriage, his foot on a cushion on the seat opposite, nicely covered with a shawl, which=
fell
down from the upper regions i=
n a
most mysterious manner, just when they wanted it. Demi climbed up to the box beside =
Peter,
the black coachman. Nat sat n=
ext
Dan in the place of honor, while Uncle Teddy would sit opposite, to take care of the foot=
, he
said, but really that he might study
the faces before him both so happy, yet so different, for Dan's was square, and brown, and s=
trong,
while Nat's was long, and fai=
r, and
rather weak, but very amiable with its mild eyes and good forehead.
"By the way, I've got a book somewhere
here that you may like to see=
,"
said the oldest boy of the party, diving under the seat and producing a book which make Dan ex=
claim,
"Oh! by George, isn't that a
stunner?" as he turned the leaves, and saw fine plates of butterflies, and
birds, and every sort of inte=
resting
insect, colored like life. He was so charmed that he forgot his thanks, but Mr. Laurie =
did
not mind, and was quite satis=
fied
to see the boy's eager delight, and to hear this exclamations over certain old frie=
nds as
he came to them. Nat leaned o=
n his
shoulder to look, and Demi turned his back to the horses, and let his feet dangle in=
side
the carriage, so that he might join
in the conversation.
When they got among the beetles, Mr. Laurie
took a curious little object =
out of
his vest-pocket, and laying it in the palm of his hand, said,
"There's a beetle that is thousands of
years old;" and then, while the
lads examined the queer stone-bug, that looked so old and gray, he told them how it came out=
of
the wrappings of a mummy, aft=
er
lying for ages in a famous tomb. Finding them interested, he went on to tell about the Egyptian=
s, and
the strange and splendid ruin=
s they
have left behind them the Nile, and how he sailed up the mighty river, with the handsome da=
rk men
to work his boat; how he shot
alligators, saw wonderful beasts and birds; and afterwards crossed the desert on a camel, who
pitched him about like a ship in a
storm.
"Uncle Teddy tells stories 'most as w=
ell
as Grandpa," said Demi, =
approvingly,
when the tale was done, and the boys' eyes asked for more.
"Thank you," said Mr. Laurie, qu=
ite
soberly, for he considered De=
mi's
praise worth having, for children are good critics in such cases, and to suit them is an
accomplishment that any one may be <=
/span>proud
of. "Here's another trifle or two that I
tucked into my pocket as I was turning
over my traps to see if I had any thing that would amuse Dan," and Uncle Teddy produce=
d a
fine arrow-head and a string of wampum.
"Oh! tell about the Indians," cr=
ied
Demi, who was fond of playing wigwam.
"Dan knows lots about them," add=
ed
Nat. "More than I do, I dare say. Tell us
something," and Mr. Laurie looked
as interested as the other two. "Mr. Hyde told me; he's been among 'e=
m,
and can talk their talk, and =
likes
'em," began Dan, flattered by their attention, but rather embarrassed by having a grown-up
listener. "What is wampum for?" asked curi=
ous
Demi, from his perch. <=
o:p> The others asked questions likewise, and,
before he knew it, Dan was re=
eling
off all Mr. Hyde had told him, as they sailed down the river a few weeks before. Mr. Laur=
ie
listened well, but found the =
boy
more interesting than the Indians, for Mrs. Jo had told him about Dan, and he rather took a fa=
ncy to
the wild lad, who ran away as=
he
himself had often longed to do, and who was slowly getting tamed by pain and patience=
. "I've been thinking that it would be a
good plan for you fellows to =
have a
museum of your own; a place in which to collect all the curious and interesting things tha=
t you
find, and make, and have give=
n you.
Mrs. Jo is too kind to complain, but it is rather hard for her to have the house littered up =
with
all sorts of rattletraps, hal=
f-a-pint
of dor-bugs in one of her best vases, for instance, a couple of dead bats nailed up in t=
he
back entry, wasps nests tumbl=
ing
down on people's heads, and stones lying round everywhere, enough to pave the ave=
nue.
There are not many women who =
would
stand that sort of thing, are there, now?" As Mr. Laurie spoke with a merry look in h=
is
eyes, the boys laughed and nu=
dged
one another, for it was evident that some one told tales out of school, else how=
could
he know of the existence of t=
hese
inconvenient treasures. "Where can we put them, then?" s=
aid
Demi, crossing his legs and l=
eaning
down to argue the question. =
span> "In the old carriage-house."
"But it leaks, and there isn't any
window, nor any place to put =
things,
and it's all dust and cobwebs," began Nat.
"Wait till Gibbs and I have touched i=
t up
a bit, and then see how you l=
ike
it. He is to come over on Monday to get it ready; then next Saturday I shall come out, and we =
will
fix it up, and make the begin=
ning,
at least, of a fine little museum. Every one can bring his things, and have a place for them;=
and
Dan is to be the head man, be=
cause
he knows most about such matters, and it will be quiet, pleasant work for him now that he =
can't
knock about much."
"Won't that be jolly?" cried Nat,
while Dan smiled all over his face <=
/span>and
had not a word to say, but hugged his book, and looked at Mr. Laurie as if he thought him one of=
the
greatest public benefactors t=
hat
ever blessed the world.
"Shall I go round again, sir?" a=
sked
Peter, as they came to the gate, after
two slow turns about the half-mile triangle.
"No, we must be prudent, else we can't
come again. I must go over the
premises, take a look at the carriage-house, and have a little talk with Mrs. Jo before I go;&quo=
t;
and, having deposited Dan on his sofa
to rest and enjoy his book, Uncle Teddy went off to have a frolic with the lads who were ragi=
ng
about the place in search of =
him.
Leaving the little girls to mess up-stairs, Mrs. Bhaer sat down by Dan, and listened to his eager
account of the drive till the flock
returned, dusty, warm, and much excited about the new museum, which every one considered the most
brilliant idea of the age.
"I always wanted to endow some sort o=
f an
institution, and I am going to
begin with this," said Mr. Laurie, sitting down on a stool at Mrs. Jo's feet.
"You have endowed one already. What do
you call this?" and Mrs. Jo
pointed to the happy-faced lads, who had camped upon the floor about him.
"I call it a very promising Bhaer-gar=
den,
and I'm proud to be a member =
of it.
Did you know I was the head boy in this school?" he asked, turning to Dan, and changin=
g the
subject skilfully, for he hat=
ed to
be thanked for the generous things he did.
"I thought Franz was!" answered =
Dan,
wondering what the man meant.=
"Oh, dear no! I'm the first boy Mrs. =
Jo
ever had to take care of, and I was
such a bad one that she isn't done with me yet, though she has been working at me for years a=
nd
years."
"How old she must be!" said Nat,
innocently.
"She began early, you see. Poor thing!
she was only fifteen when she=
took
me, and I led her such a life, it's a wonder she isn't wrinkled and gray, and quite worn
out," and Mr. Laurie looked up
at her laughing.
"Don't Teddy; I won't have you abuse
yourself so;" and Mrs. Jo stroked
the curly black head at her knee as affectionately as ever, for, in spite of every thing Teddy=
was
her boy still.
"If it hadn't been for you, there nev=
er
would have been a Plumfield. =
It was
my success with you, sir, that gave me courage to try my pet plan. So the boys may thank you fo=
r it,
and name the new institution =
'The
Laurence Museum,' in honor of its founder, won't we, boys?" she added, looking=
very
like the lively Jo of old times.
"We will! we will!" shouted the
boys, throwing up their hats, for =
span>though
they had taken them off on entering the house, according to rule, they had been in too much of=
a
hurry to hang them up. =
"I'm as hungry as a bear, can't I hav=
e a
cookie?" asked Mr. Laurie, when
the shout subsided and he had expressed his thanks by a splendid bow.
"Trot out and ask Asia for the
gingerbread-box, Demi. It isn't in <=
/span>order
to eat between meals, but, on this joyful occasion, we won't mind, and have a cookie all round,=
"
said Mrs. Jo; and when the bo=
x came
she dealt them out with a liberal hand, every one munching away in a social circle. =
Suddenly, in the midst of a bite, Mr. Laur=
ie
cried out, "Bless my hea=
rt, I
forgot grandma's bundle!" and running out to the carriage, returned with an interesting white
parcel, which, being opened, =
disclosed
a choice collection of beasts, birds, and pretty things cut out of crisp sugary cake, and bake=
d a
lovely brown.
"There's one for each, and a letter to
tell which is whose. Grandma =
and
Hannah made them, and I tremble to think what would have happened to me if I had forgotten =
to
leave them."
Then, amid much laughing and fun, the cakes
were distributed. A fish for =
Dan, a
fiddle for Nat, a book for Demi, a money for Tommy, a flower for Daisy, a hoop =
for
Nan, who had driven twice rou=
nd the
triangle without stopping, a star for Emil, who put on airs because he studied astronomy,=
and,
best of all, an omnibus for F=
ranz,
whose great delight was to drive the family bus. Stuffy got a fat pig, and the little folks had =
birds,
and cats, and rabbits, with b=
lack
currant eyes.
"Now I must go. Where is my Goldilock=
s?
Mamma will come flying out to=
get
her if I'm not back early," said Uncle Teddy, when the last crumb had vanished, which=
it
speedily did, you may be sure=
.
The young ladies had gone into the garden,=
and
while they waited till Franz =
looked
them up, Jo and Laurie stood at the door talking together.
"How does little Giddy-gaddy come
on?" he asked, for Nan's pranks
amused him very much, and he was never tired of teasing Jo about her.
"Nicely; she is getting quite mannerl=
y,
and begins to see the error o=
f her
wild ways."
"Don't the boys encourage her in
them?"
"Yes; but I keep talking, and lately =
she
has improved much. You saw how
prettily she shook hands with you, and how gentle she was with Bess. Daisy's example has=
its
effect upon her, and I'm quit=
e sure
that a few months will work wonders."
Here Mrs. Jo's remarks were cut short by t=
he
appearance of Nan tearing rou=
nd the
corner at a break-neck pace, driving a&nbs=
p;
mettlesome team of four boys, and followed by Daisy trundling Bess in a wheelbarrow. Hat off, ha=
ir
flying, whip cracking, and ba=
rrow
bumping, up they came in a cloud of dust, looking as wild a set of little hoydens as one wou=
ld
wish to see.
"So, these are the model children, are
they? It's lucky I didn't bring Mrs.
Curtis out to see your school for the cultivation of morals and manners; she would never have reco=
vered
from the shock of this specta=
cle,"
said Mr. Laurie, laughing at Mrs. Jo's premature rejoicing over Nan's improvement. =
"Laugh away; I'll succeed yet. As you
used to say at College, quoti=
ng
some professor, 'Though the experiment has failed, the principle remains the same,' "=
; said
Mrs. Bhaer, joining in the me=
rriment.
"I'm afraid Nan's example is taking
effect upon Daisy, instead of the
other way. Look at my little princess! she has utterly forgotten her dignity, and is screaming like=
the
rest. Young ladies, what does this
mean?" and Mr. Laurie rescued his small daughter from impending destruction, for the four
horses were champing their bi=
ts and
curvetting madly all about her, as she sat brandishing a great whip in both hands.
"We're having a race, and I beat,&quo=
t;
shouted Nan.
"I could have run faster, only I was
afraid of spilling Bess," screamed
Daisy.
"Hi! go long!" cried the princes=
s,
giving such a flourish with her whip
that the horses ran away, and were seen no more.
"My precious child! come away from th=
is
ill-mannered crew before you =
are
quite spoilt. Good-by, Jo! Next time I come, I shall expect to find the boys making
patchwork."
"It wouldn't hurt them a bit. I don't
give in, mind you; for my exp=
eriments
always fail a few times before they succeed. Love to Amy and my blessed Marmee," c=
alled
Mrs. Jo, as the carriage drove
away; and the last Mr. Laurie saw of her, she was consoling Daisy for her failure by a ride in=
the
wheelbarrow, and looking as i=
f she
liked it.
Great was the excitement all the week about
the repairs in the carriage-h=
ouse,
which went briskly on in spite of the incessant questions, advice, and meddling of=
the
boys. Old Gibbs was nearly dr=
iven
wild with it all, but managed to do his work nevertheless; and by Friday night the place was =
all in
order roof mended, shelves up,
walls whitewashed, a great window cut at the back, which let in a flood of sunshine, and gave t=
hem a
fine view of the brook, the m=
eadows,
and the distant hills; and over the great door, painted in red letters, was "The Laurence
Museum."
All Saturday morning the boys were planning
how it should be furnished wi=
th
their spoils, and when Mr. Laurie arrived, bringing an aquarium which Mrs. Amy said sh=
e was
tired of, their rapture was g=
reat.
The afternoon was spent in arranging thing=
s,
and when the running and lugg=
ing
and hammering was over, the ladies were invited to behold the institution.
It certainly was a pleasant place, airy,
clean, and bright. A hop-vine=
shook
its green bells round the open window, the pretty aquarium stood in the middle of the
room, with some delicate water
plants rising above the water, and gold-fish showing their brightness as they floated to and =
fro
below. On either side of the =
window
were rows of shelves ready to receive the curiosities yet to be found. Dan's tall cabinet stood
before the great door which was fastened
up, while the small door was to be used. On the cabinet stood a queer Indian idol, very ug=
ly,
but very interesting; old Mr. Laurence
sent it, as well as a fine Chinese junk in full sail, which had a conspicuous place on the long
table in the middle of the ro=
om.
Above, swinging in a loop, and looking as if she was alive, hung Polly, who died at an advance=
d age,
had been carefully stuffed, a=
nd was
no presented by Mrs. Jo. The walls were&nb=
sp;
decorated with all sorts of things. A snake's skin, a big wasp's nes=
t, a birch-bark canoe, a string of bi=
rds'
eggs, wreaths of gray moss fr=
om the
South, and a bunch of cotton-pods. The dead bats had a place, also a large turtle-shell, =
and an
ostrich-egg proudly presented=
by
Demi, who volunteered to explain these rare curiosities to guests whenever they
liked. There were so many sto=
nes
that it was impossible to accept them all, so only a few of the best were arranged among the s=
hells
on the shelves, the rest were=
piled
up in corners, to be examined by Dan at his leisure.
Every one was eager to give something, even
Silas, who sent home for a st=
uffed
wild-cat killed in his youth. It was rather moth-eaten and shabby, but on a high bracket =
and
best side foremost the effect was
fine, for the yellow glass eyes glared, and the mouth snarled so naturally, that Teddy shook in =
his
little shoes at sight of it, when =
span>he
came bringing his most cherished treasure, one cocoon, to lay upon the shrine of science.
"Isn't it beautiful? I'd no idea we h=
ad
so many curious things. I gave
that; don't it look well? We might make a lot by charging something for letting folks see
it."
Jack added that last suggestion to the gen=
eral
chatter that went on as the f=
amily
viewed the room.
"This is a free museum and if there is
any speculating on it I'll pa=
int
out the name over the door," said Mr. Laurie, turning so quickly that Jack wished he had he=
ld his
tongue.
"Hear! hear!" cried Mr. Bhaer. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Speech! speech!" added Mrs. Jo.=
"Can't, I'm too bashful. You give the=
m a
lecture yourself you are used=
to
it," Mr. Laurie answered, retreating towards the window, meaning to escape. But she held him
fast, and said, laughing as she looked
at the dozen pairs of dirty hands about her,
"If I did lecture, it would on the
chemical and cleansing properties =
span>of
soap. Come now, as the founder of the institution, you really ought to give us a few moral remar=
ks,
and we will applaud tremendou=
sly."
Seeing that there was no way of escaping, =
Mr.
Laurie looked up at Polly han=
ging
overhead, seemed to find inspiration in the brilliant old bird, and sitting down upon the
table, said, in his pleasant way,
"There is one thing I'd like to sugge=
st,
boys, and that is, I want you to
get some good as well as much pleasure out of this. Just putting curious or pretty things here won'=
t do
it; so suppose you read up ab=
out
them, so that when anybody asks questions you can answer them, and understand the matter. I=
used
to like these things myself, =
and
should enjoy hearing about them now, for I've forgotten all I once knew. It wasn't much, was it,=
Jo?
Here's Dan now, full of stori=
es
about birds, and bugs, and so on; let him take care of the museum, and once a week the rest o=
f you
take turns to read a composit=
ion,
or tell about some animal, mineral, or vegetable. We should all like that, and I think =
it
would put considerable useful knowledge
into our heads. What do you say, Professor?"
"I like it much, and will give the la=
ds
all the help I can. But they =
will
need books to read up these new subjects, and we have not many, I fear," began Mr. Bhae=
r,
looking much pleased, planning many
fine lectures on geology, which he liked. "We should have a library for the special purpose.&q=
uot;
"Is that a useful sort of book,
Dan?" asked Mr. Laurie, pointing to&n=
bsp;
the volume that lay open by the cabinet.
"Oh, yes! it tells all I want to know
about insects. I had it here to see
how to fix the butterflies right. I covered it, so it is not hurt;"
"Give it here a minute;" and,
pulling out his pencil, Mr. Laurie <=
/span>wrote
Dan's name in it, saying, as he set the book up on one of the corner shelves, where nothing stoo=
d but
a stuffed bird without a tail,
"There, that is the beginning of the museum library. I'll hunt up some more books, and Demi shall=
keep
them in order. Where are those
jolly little books we used to read, Jo? 'Insect Architecture' or some such name, all about ants =
having
battles, and bees having quee=
ns,
and crickets eating holes in our clothes and stealing milk, and larks of that sort."
"In the garret at home. I'll have them
sent out, and we will plunge =
into
Natural History with a will," said Mrs. Jo, ready for any thing.
"Won't it be hard to write about such
things?" asked Nat, who =
hated
compositions.
"At first, perhaps; but you will soon
like it. If you think that hard, how
would you like to have this subject given to you, as it was to a girl of thirteen: A conversation b=
etween
Themistocles, Aristides, and
Pericles on the proposed appropriation of funds of the confederacy of Delos for the
ornamentation of Athens?" said Mrs.&n=
bsp;
Jo.
The boys groaned at the mere sound of the =
long
names, and the gentlemen laug=
hed at
the absurdity of the lesson. <=
/span>
"Did she write it?" asked Demi, = in an awe-stricken tone. <= o:p>
"Yes, but you can imagine what a piec=
e of
work she make of it, though s=
he was
rather a bright child." <=
/span>
"I'd like to have seen it," said=
Mr.
Bhaer.
"Perhaps I can find it for you; I wen=
t to
school with her," and Mrs. Jo
looked so wicked that every one knew who the little girl was.
Hearing of this fearful subject for a
composition quite reconciled =
the
boys to the thought of writing about familiar things. Wednesday afternoon was appointed =
for
the lectures, as they preferr=
ed to
call them, for some chose to talk instead of write. Mr. Bhaer promised a portfolio in whic=
h the
written productions should be=
kept,
and Mrs. Bhaer said she would attend the course with great pleasure.
Then the dirty-handed society went off the
wash, followed by the Profess=
or,
trying to calm the anxiety of Rob, who had been told by Tommy that all water was full of
invisible pollywogs.
"I like your plan very much, only don=
't
be too generous, Teddy," said
Mrs. Bhaer, when they were left alone. "You know most of the boys have got to paddle their =
own
canoes when they leave us, an=
d too
much sitting in the lap of luxury will unfit them for it."
"I'll be moderate, but do let me amuse
myself. I get desperately tir=
ed of
business sometimes, and nothing freshens me up like a good frolic with your boys. I like=
that
Dan very much, Jo. He isn't d=
emonstrative;
but he has the eye of a hawk, and when you have tamed him a little he will do you
credit."
"I'm so glad you think so. Thank you =
very
much for your kindness to him,
especially for this museum affair; it will keep him happy while he is lame, give me a chance=
to
soften and smooth this poor, =
rough
lad, and make him love us. What did inspire you with such a beautiful, helpful idea, Teddy?&qu=
ot;
asked Mrs. Bhaer, glancing back at
the pleasant room, as she turned to leave it.
Laurie took both her hands in his, and
answered, with a look that ma=
de her
eyes fill with happy tears, =
span>
"Dear Jo! I have known what it is to =
be a
motherless boy, and I never c=
an
forget how much you and yours have done for me all these years."
There was a great clashing of tin pails, m=
uch
running to and fro, and frequ=
ent
demands for something to eat, one August afternoon, for the boys were going huckleberr=
ying,
and made as much stir about i=
t as
if they were setting out to find the North West Passage.
"Now, my lads, get off as quietly as =
you
can, for Rob is safely out of=
the
way, and won't see you," said Mrs. Bhaer, as she tied Daisy's broad-brimmed hat, and settled the=
great
blue pinafore in which she had
enveloped Nan.
But the plan did not succeed, for Rob had
heard the bustle, decided to =
go,
and prepared himself, without a thought of disappointment. The troop was just getting under w=
ay
when the little man came marc=
hing
downstairs with his best hat on, a bright tin pail in his hand, and a face beaming with
satisfaction.
"Oh, dear! now we shall have a
scene," sighed Mrs. Bhaer, who
found her eldest son very hard to manage at times.
"I'm all ready," said Rob, and t=
ook
his place in the ranks with such perfect
unconsciousness of his mistake, that it really was very hard to undeceive him.
"It's too far for you, my love; stay =
and
take care of me, for I shall =
be all
alone," began his mother.
"You've got Teddy. I'm a big boy, so I
can go; you said I might when=
I was
bigger, and I am now," persisted Rob, with a cloud beginning to dim the brightness of=
his
happy face.
"We are going up to the great pasture,
and it's ever so far; we don't want
you tagging on," cried Jack, who did not admire the little boys.
"I won't tag, I'll run and keep up. O
Mamma! let me go! I want to f=
ill my
new pail, and I'll bring 'em all to you. Please, please, I will be good!" prayed Robby, looki=
ng up
at his mother, so grieved and disappointed
that her heart began to fail her.
"But, my deary, you'll get so tired a=
nd
hot you won't have a good tim=
e.
Wait till I go, and then we will stay all day, and pick as many berries as you want."
"You never do go, you are so busy, and
I'm tired of waiting. I'd rat=
her go
and get the berries for you all myself. I love to pick 'em, and I want to fill my new pail
dreffly," sobbed Rob.
The pathetic sight of great tears tinkling
into the dear new pail, and
threatening to fill it with salt water instead of huckleberries, touched all the ladies present. His
mother patted the weeper on his back;
Daisy offered to stay home with him; and Nan said, in her decided way,
"Let him come; I'll take care of
him."
"If Franz was going I wouldn't mind, =
for
he is very careful; but he is
haying with the father, and I'm not sure about the rest of you," began Mrs. Bhaer.
"It's so far," put in Jack.
"I'd carry him if I was going wish I
was," said Dan, with a sigh.
"Thank you, dear, but you must take c=
are
of your foot. I wish I could =
go.
Stop a minute, I think I can manage it after all;" and Mrs. Bhaer ran out to the steps, waving=
her
apron wildly.
Silas was just driving away in the hay-car= t, but turned back, and agreed at once, when Mrs. Jo proposed that he should take the whole party to the pasture, and go= for them at five o'clock. <= o:p>
"It will delay your work a little, but
never mind; we will pay you in huckleberry
pies," said Mrs. Jo, knowing Silas's weak point.
His rough, brown face brightened up, and he
said, with a cheery "Haw!
haw!" "Wal now, Mis' Bhaer, if you go to bribin' of me, I shall give in right away."
"Now, boys, I have arranged it so that
you can all go," said Mrs. Bhaer,
running back again, much relieved, for she loved to make them happy, and always felt misera=
ble
when she had disturbed the se=
renity
of her little sons; for she believed that the small hopes and plans and pleasures of children sh=
ould
be tenderly respected by grow=
n-up
people, and never rudely thwarted or ridiculed.
"Can I go?" said Dan, delighted.=
"I thought especially of you. Be care=
ful,
and never mind the berries, b=
ut sit
about and enjoy the lovely things which you know how to find all about you,"
answered Mrs. Bhaer, who reme=
mbered
his kind offer to her boy.
"Me too! me too!" sung Rob, danc=
ing
with joy, and clapping his pr=
ecious
pail and cover like castanets.
"Yes, and Daisy and Nan must take good
care of you. Be at the bars a=
t five
o'clock, and Silas will come for you all."
Robby cast himself upon his mother in a bu=
rst
of gratitude, promising to br=
ing
her every berry he picked, and not eat one. Then they were all packed into the
hay-cart, and went rattling a=
way,
the brightest face among the dozen being that of Rob, as he sat between his two temporary litt=
le
mothers, beaming upon the who=
le
world, and waving his best hat; for his indulgent mamma had not the heart to bereave him o=
f it,
since this was a gala-day to =
him.
Such a happy afternoon as they had, in spi=
te of
the mishaps which usually occ=
ur on
such expeditions! Of course Tommy came to&=
nbsp;
grief, tumbled upon a hornet's nest and got stung; but being used to=
woe, he bore the smart manfully, t=
ill
Dan suggested the application of
damp earth, which much assuaged the pain. Daisy saw a snake, and flying from it lost half her
berries; but Demi helped her to fill
up again, and discussed reptiles most learnedly the while. Ned fell<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> out of a tree, and split his jacke=
t down
the back, but suffered no oth=
er
fracture. Emil and Jack established rival claims to a certain thick patch, and while they were
squabbling about it, Stuffy q=
uickly
and quietly stripped the bushes and fled to the protection of Dan, who was enjoying himself
immensely. The crutch was no =
longer
necessary, and he was delighted to see how strong his foot felt as he roamed about the great
pasture, full of interesting rocks <=
/span>and
stumps, with familiar little creatures in the grass, and well-known insects dancing in the =
air.
But of all the adventures that happened on
this afternoon that which bef=
ell
Nan and Rob was the most exciting, and it long remained one of the favorite histo=
ries
of the household. Having expl=
ored
the country pretty generally, torn three rents in her frock, and scratched her face in a
barberry-bush, Nan began to pick the
berries that shone like big, black beads on the low, green bushes. Her nimble fingers flew, but still=
her
basket did not fill up as rap=
idly
as she desired, so she kept wandering here and there to search for better places, instead =
of
picking contentedly and steadily as
Daisy did. Rob followed Nan, for her energy suited him better than his cousin's patience, and he=
too
was anxious to have the bigge=
st and
best berries for Marmar.
"I keep putting 'em in, but it don't =
fill
up, and I'm so tired," said Rob,
pausing a moment to rest his short legs, and beginning to think huckleberrying was not all h=
is
fancy painted it; for the sun blazed,
Nan skipped hither and thither like a grasshopper, and the berries fell out of his pail almos=
t as
fast as he put them in, because, in
his struggles with the bushes, it was often upside-down.
"Last time we came they were ever so =
much
thicker over that wall great
bouncers; and there is a cave there where the boys made a fire. Let's go and fill our things =
quick,
and then hide in the cave and=
let
the others find us," proposed Nan, thirsting for adventures.
Rob consented, and away they went, scrambl=
ing
over the wall and running dow=
n the
sloping fields on the other side, till they were hidden among the rocks and underbr=
ush.
The berries were thick, and a=
t last
the pails were actually full. It was shady and cool down there, and a little spring gave the
thirsty children a refreshing drink
out of its mossy cup. <=
/span>
"Now we will go and rest in the cave,=
and
eat our lunch," said Nan, well
satisfied with her success so far.
"Do you know the way?" asked Rob=
.
"'Course I do; I've been once, and I
always remember. Didn't I go =
and
get my box all right?" =
span>
That convinced Rob, and he followed blindl=
y as
Nan led him over stock and st=
one,
and brought him, after much meandering, to a small recess in the rock, where the
blackened stones showed that =
fires
had been made.
"Now, isn't it nice?" asked Nan,=
as
she took out a bit of bread-a=
nd-butter,
rather damaged by being mixed up with nails, fishhooks, stones and other foreign
substances, in the young lady's pocket.
"Yes; do you think they will find us
soon?" asked Rob, who found the
shadowy glen rather dull, and began to long for more society.
"No, I don't; because if I hear them,=
I
shall hide, and have fun maki=
ng
them find me."
"P'raps they won't come."
"Don't care; I can get home myself.&q=
uot;
"Is it a great way?" asked Rob,
looking at his little stubby boots,
scratched and wet with his long wandering.
"It's six miles, I guess." Nan's
ideas of distance were vague, and her
faith in her own powers great.
"I think we better go now,"
suggested Rob, presently.
"I shan't till I have picked over my
berries;" and Nan began what =
span>seemed
to Rob an endless task.
"Oh, dear! you said you'd take good c=
are
of me," he sighed, as the sun
seemed to drop behind the hill all of a sudden.
"Well I am taking good care of you as
hard as I can. Don't be cross, child;
I'll go in a minute," said Nan, who considered five-year-old Robby a mere infant compared to he=
rself.
So little Rob sat looking anxiously about =
him,
and waiting patiently, for, s=
pite
of some misgivings, he felt great confidence in Nan.
"I guess it's going to be night pretty
soon," he observed, as if to =
span>himself,
as a mosquito bit him, and the frogs in a neighboring marsh began to pipe up for the eve=
ning
concert.
"My goodness me! so it is. Come right
away this minute, or they wil=
l be
gone," cried Nan, looking up from her work, and suddenly perceiving that the sun was down. =
"I heard a horn about an hour ago; ma=
y be
they were blowing for us,&quo=
t;
said Rob, trudging after his guide as she scrambled up the steep hill.
"Where was it?" asked Nan, stopp=
ing
short.
"Over that way;" he pointed with=
a
dirty little finger in an entirely <=
/span>wrong
direction.
"Let's go that way and meet them;&quo=
t;
and Nan wheeled about, and be=
gan to
trot through the bushes, feeling a trifle anxious, for there were so many cow-paths all about s=
he
could not remember which way =
they
came.
On they went over stock and stone again,
pausing now and then to liste=
n for
the horn, which did not blow any more, for it was only the moo of a cow on her way home. =
"I don't remember seeing that pile of
stones do you?" asked Nan, as <=
/span>she
sat on a wall to rest a moment and take an observation.
"I don't remember any thing, but I wa= nt to go home," and Rob's v= oice had a little tremble in it that made Nan put her arms round him and lift him gently down, sayi= ng, in her most capable way, <= o:p>
"I'm going just as fast as I can, dea=
r.
Don't cry, and when we come t=
o the
road, I'll carry you." =
span>
"Where is the road?" and Robby w=
iped
his eyes to look for it.
"Over by that big tree. Don't you know
that's the one Ned tumbled out
of?"
"So it is. May be they waited for us;=
I'd
like to ride home wouldn't yo=
u?"
and Robby brightened up as he plodded along toward the end of the great pasture.
"No, I'd rather walk," answered =
Nan,
feeling quite sure that she w=
ould
be obliged to do so, and preparing her mind for it.
Another long trudge through the fast-deepe=
ning
twilight and another
disappointment, for when they reached the tree, they found to their dismay that it was not th=
e one
Ned climbed, and no road anyw=
here
appeared.
"Are we lost?" quavered Rob,
clasping his pail in despair.
"Not much. I don't just see which way=
to
go, and I guess we'd better
call."
So they both shouted till they were hoarse,
yet nothing answered but the =
frogs
in full chorus.
"There is another tall tree over ther=
e,
perhaps that's the one," said <=
/span>Nan,
whose heart sunk within her, though she still spoke bravely.
"I don't think I can go any more; my
boots are so heavy I can't pull 'em;"
and Robby sat down on a stone quite worn out.
"Then we must stay here all night. I
don't care much, if snakes do=
n't
come."
"I'm frightened of snakes. I can't st=
ay
all night. Oh, dear! I don't =
like
to be lost," and Rob puckered up his face to cry, when suddenly a thought occurred to him=
, and
he said, in a tone of perfect
confidence,
"Marmar will come and find me she alw=
ays
does; I ain't afraid now.&quo=
t;
"She won't know where we are." <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"She didn't know I was shut up in the
ice-house, but she found me. =
I know
she'll come," returned Robby, so trustfully, that Nan felt relieved, and sat down by him, say=
ing,
with a remorseful sigh,
"I wish we hadn't run away."
"You made me; but I don't mind much
Marmar will love me just the
same," answered Rob, clinging to his sheet-anchor when all other hope was gone.
"I'm so hungry. Let's eat our
berries," proposed Nan, after a pause, during which Rob began to nod.
"So am I, but I can't eat mine, 'caus=
e I
told Marmar I'd keep them all=
for
her."
"You'll have to eat them if no one co=
mes
for us," said Nan, who f=
elt
like contradicting every thing just then. "If we stay here a great many days, we shall eat up all the
berries in the field, and then we =
span>shall
starve," she added grimly.
"I shall eat sassafras. I know a big =
tree
of it, and Dan told me how sq=
uirrels
dig up the roots and eat them, and I love to dig," returned Rob, undaunted by the prospect of
starvation.
"Yes; and we can catch frogs, and cook
them. My father ate some once=
, and
he said they were nice," put in Nan, beginning to find a spice of romance even in being los=
t in a
huckleberry pasture.
"How could we cook frogs? we haven't =
got
any fire."
"I don't know; next time I'll have
matches in my pocket," said Nan,
rather depressed by this obstacle to the experiment in frog-cookery.
"Couldn't we light a fire with a
fire-fly?" asked Rob, hopefully, as&n=
bsp;
he watched them flitting to and fro like winged sparks.
"Let's try;" and several minutes
were pleasantly spent in catching =
span>the
flies, and trying to make them kindle a green twig or two. "It's a lie to call them fire -flies when
there isn't a fire in them," Nan
said, throwing one unhappy insect away with scorn, though it shone its best, and obligingly wal=
ked up
and down the twigs to please =
the
innocent little experimenters.
"Marmar's a good while coming," =
said
Rob, after another pause, dur=
ing
which they watched the stars overhead, smelt the sweet fern crushed under foot, and listened t=
o the
crickets' serenade.
"I don't see why God made any night; =
day
is so much pleasanter," =
said
Nan, thoughtfully.
"It's to sleep in," answered Rob,
with a yawn.
"Then do go to sleep," said Nan,
pettishly.
"I want my own bed. Oh, I wish I could
see Teddy!" cried Rob, p=
ainfully
reminded of home by the soft chirp of birds safe in their little nests.
"I don't believe your mother will ever
find us," said Nan, who was becoming
desperate, for she hated patient waiting of any sort. "It's so dark she won't see us."
"It was all black in the ice-house, a=
nd I
was so scared I didn't call h=
er,
but she saw me; and she will see me now, no matter how dark it is," returned confiding Ro=
b,
standing up to peer into the gloom <=
/span>for
the help which never failed him.
"I see her! I see her!" he cried,
and ran as fast as his tired legs =
span>would
take him toward a dark figure slowly approaching. Suddenly he stopped, then turned a=
bout,
and came stumbling back, scre=
aming
in a great panic,
"No, it's a bear, a big black one!&qu=
ot;
and hid his face in Nan's skirts.
For a moment Nan quailed; ever her courage
gave out at the thought of a =
real
bear, and she was about to turn and flee in great disorder, when a mild "Moo!&q=
uot;
changed her fear to merriment, as =
span>she
said, laughing,
"It's a cow, Robby! the nice, black c=
ow
we saw this afternoon." <=
/span>
The cow seemed to feel that it was not just
the thing to meet two little =
people
in her pasture after dark, and the amiable beast paused to inquire into the case. She let =
them
stroke her, and stood regardi=
ng
them with her soft eyes so mildly, that Nan, who feared no animal but a bear, was fired wi=
th a
desire to milk her.
"Silas taught me how; and berries and
milk would be so nice," she said,
emptying the contents of her pail into her hat, and boldly beginning her new task, while Rob =
stood
by and repeated, at her comma=
nd,
the poem from Mother Goose: =
span>
"Cushy cow, bonny, let down your milk=
,
Let down your milk to me,
And I will give you a gown of silk,
A gown of silk and a silver tee."
But the immortal rhyme had little effect, =
for
the benevolent cow had alread=
y been
milked, and had only half a gill to give the thirsty children.
"Shoo! get away! you are an old cross patch," cried Nan, ungra= tefully, as she gave up the attempt in despair; and poor Molly walked on with a gentle gurgle of surprise and reproof. <= o:p>
"Each can have a sip, and then we must
take a walk. We shall go to s=
leep
if we don't; and lost people mustn't sleep. Don't you know how Hannah Lee in the pretty story=
slept
under the snow and died?"=
;
"But there isn't any snow now, and it=
's
nice and warm," said Rob, who
was not blessed with as lively a fancy as Nan.
"No matter, we will poke about a litt=
le,
and call some more; and then,=
if
nobody comes, we will hide under the bushes, like Hop-'o-my-thumb and his brothers.&=
quot;
It was a very short walk, however, for Rob=
was
so sleepy he could not get on=
, and
tumbled down so often that Nan entirely lost patience, being half distracted by=
the
responsibility she had taken =
upon
herself.
"If you tumble down again, I'll shake
you," she said, lifting the poor
little man up very kindly as she spoke, for Nan's bark was much worse than her bite.
"Please don't. It's my boots they keep
slipping so;" and Rob ma=
nfully
checked the sob just ready to break out, adding, with a plaintive patience that touched Na=
n's
heart, "If the skeeters didn't
bite me so, I could go to sleep till Marmar comes."
"Put your head on my lap, and I'll co=
ver
you up with my apron; I'm not
afraid of the night," said Nan, sitting down and trying to persuade herself that she did not =
mind
the shadow nor the mysterious
rustlings all about her.
"Wake me up when she comes," said
rob, and was fast asleep in f=
ive
minutes with his head in Nan's lap under the pinafore.
The little girl sat for some fifteen minut=
es,
staring about her with anxious
eyes, and feeling as if each second was an hour. Then a pale light began to glimmer over t=
he
hill-top and she said to herself
"I guess the night is over and mornin=
g is
coming. I'd like to see the s=
un
rise, so I'll watch, and when it comes up we can find our way right home."
But before the moon's round face peeped ab=
ove
the hill to destroy her hope,=
Nan
had fallen asleep, leaning back in a little bower of tall ferns, and was deep in a mid-=
summer
night's dream of fire-flies a=
nd
blue aprons, mountains of huckleberries, and Robby wiping away the tears of a black cow, who
sobbed, "I want to go home! I <=
/span>want
to go home!"
While the children were sleeping, peaceful=
ly
lulled by the drowsy hum of m=
any
neighborly mosquitoes, the family at home were in a great state of agitation. The hay-=
cart
came at five, and all but Jack, Emil,
Nan, and Rob were at the bars ready for it. Franz drove instead of Silas, and when the boy=
s told
him that the others were goin=
g home
through the wood, he said, looking ill-pleased, "They ought to have left Rob to ride, he=
will
be tired out by the long walk=
."
"It's shorter that way, and they will
carry him," said Stuffy, who =
span>was
in a hurry for his supper.
"You are sure Nan and Rob went with
them?"
"Of course they did; I saw them getti=
ng
over the wall, and sung out t=
hat it
was most five, and Jack called back that they were going the other way," explained Tommy. =
"Very well, pile in then," and a=
way
rattled the hay-cart with the tired
children and the full pails. <=
/span>
Mrs. Jo looked sober when she heard of the
division of the party, and se=
nt
Franz back with Toby to find and bring the little ones home. Supper was over, and the fam=
ily
sitting about in the cool hal=
l as
usual, when Franz came trotting back, hot, dusty, and anxious.
"Have they come?" he called out =
when
half-way up the avenue.
"No!" and Mrs. Jo flew out of her
chair looking so alarmed that every
one jumped up and gathered round Franz.
"I can't find them anywhere," he
began; but the words were hardly spoken
when a loud "Hullo!" startled them all, and the next minute Jack and Emil came round the house=
.
"Where are Nan and Rob?" cried M=
rs.
Jo, clutching Emil in a way t=
hat
caused him to think his aunt had suddenly lost her wits.
"I don't know. They came home with the
others, didn't they?" he answered,
quickly.
"No; George and Tommy said they went =
with
you."
"Well, they didn't. Haven't seen them=
. We
took a swim in the pond, and =
came
by the wood," said Jack, looking alarmed, as well he might.
"Call Mr. Bhaer, get the lanterns, and
tell Silas I want him." <=
/span>
That was all Mrs. Jo said, but they knew w=
hat
she meant, and flew to obey h=
er
orders. In ten minutes, Mr. Bhaer and Silas were off to the wood, and Franz tearing down t=
he
road on old Andy to search the
great pasture. Mrs. Jo caught up some food from the table, a little bottle of brandy from the
medicine-closet, took a lantern, and
bidding Jack and Emil come with her, and the rest not stir, she trotted away on Toby, never stoppi=
ng for
hat or shawl. She heard some =
one
running after her, but said not a word till, as she paused to call and listen, the light of h=
er
lantern shone on Dan's face. <=
/span>
"You here! I told Jack to come,"=
she
said, half-inclined to send him back,
much as she needed help.
"I wouldn't let him; he and Emil hadn=
't
had any supper, and I wanted =
to
come more than they did," he said, taking the lantern from her and smiling up in her fac=
e with
the steady look in his eyes t=
hat
made her feel as if, boy though he was, she had some one to depend on.
Off she jumped, and ordered him on to Toby=
, in
spite of his pleading to walk=
; then
they went on again along the dusty, solitary road, stopping every now and then =
to
call and hearken breathlessly for
little voices to reply.
When they came to the great pasture, other
lights were already flitting =
to and
fro like will-o'-the-wisps, and Mr. Bhaer's voice was heard shouting, "Nan! Rob! Ro=
b!
Nan!" in every part of the field.&nbs=
p;
Silas whistled and roared, Dan plunged here and there on Toby, who seemed to understand the case,=
and
went over the roughest places=
with
unusual docility. Often Mrs. Jo hushed them all, saying, with a sob in her throat,
"The noise may frighten them, let&nbs=
p;
me call; Robby will know my voice;" and then she would cry out<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> the beloved little name in every t=
one of
tenderness, till the very ech=
oes
whispered it softly, and the winds seemed to waft it willingly; but still no answer cam=
e.
The sky was overcast now, and only brief
glimpses of the moon were see=
n,
heat-lightening darted out of the dark clouds now and then, and a faint far-off rumble a=
s of
thunder told that a summer-st=
orm
was brewing.
"O my Robby! my Robby!" mourned =
poor
Mrs. Jo, wandering up and dow=
n like
a pale ghost, while Dan kept beside her like a faithful fire-fly. "What shal=
l I
say to Nan's father if she comes to
harm? Why did I ever trust my darling so far away? Fritz, do you hear any thing?" and when a
mournful, "No" came back, she wrung her hands so despairingly that Dan
sprung down from Toby's back, tied
the bridle to the bars, and said, in his decided way,
"They may have gone down the spring I=
'm
going to look."
He was over the wall and away so fast that=
she
could hardly follow him; but =
when
she reached the spot, he lowered the lantern and showed her with joy the marks of l=
ittle
feet in the soft ground about=
the
spring. She fell down on her knees to examine the tracks, and then sprung up, saying eagerly=
,
"Yes; that is the mark of my Robby's
little boots! Come this way, =
they
must have gone on."
Such a weary search! But now some inexplic=
able
instinct seemed to lead the a=
nxious
mother, for presently Dan uttered a cry, and caught up a little shining object =
lying
in the path. It was the cover of
the new tin pail, dropped in the first alarm of being lost. Mrs. Jo hugged and kissed it as if it were=
a
living thing; and when Dan was about
to utter a glad shout to bring the others to the spot, she stopped him, saying, as she hurrie=
d on,
"No, let me find them; I let =
span>Rob
go, and I want to give him back to his father all myself."
A little farther on Nan's hat appeared, and
after passing the place more =
than
once, they came at last upon the babes in the wood, both sound asleep. Dan never forgot the
little picture on which the light =
span>of
his lantern shone that night. He thought Mrs. Jo would cry out, but she only whispered,
"Hush!" as she softly lifted away the apron, and saw the little ruddy fa=
ce
below. The berry-stained lips were
half-open as the breath came and went, the yellow hair lay damp on the hot forehead, and both=
the chubby
hands held fast the little pa=
il
still full.
The sight of the childish harvest, treasur=
ed
through all the troubles of t=
hat
night for her, seemed to touch Mrs. Jo to the heart, for suddenly she gathered up her boy, =
and
began to cry over him, so ten=
derly,
yet so heartily, that he woke up, and at first seemed bewildered. Then he remembered, and
hugged her close, saying with=
a
laugh of triumph,
"I knew you'd come! O Marmar! I did w=
ant
you so!" For a moment th=
ey
kissed and clung to one another, quite forgetting all the world; for no matter how lost and soiled =
and
worn-out wandering sons may b=
e,
mothers can forgive and forget every thing as they fold them in their fostering arms. Happ=
y the
son whose faith in his mother
remains unchanged, and who, through all his wanderings, has kept some filial token to repa=
y her
brave and tender love. =
Dan meantime picked Nan out of her bush, a=
nd,
with a gentleness none but Te=
ddy
ever saw in him before, he soothed her first alarm at the sudden waking, and wiped aw=
ay her
tears; for Nan also began to =
cry
for joy, it was so good to see a kind face and feel a strong arm round her after what se=
emed
to her ages of loneliness and=
fear.
"My poor little girl, don't cry! You =
are
all safe now, and no one shal=
l say
a word of blame to-night," said Mrs. Jo, taking Nan into her capacious embrace, and cuddlin=
g both
children as a hen might gathe=
r her
lost chickens under her motherly wings.
"It was my fault; but I am sorry. I t=
ried
to take care of him, and I co=
vered
him up and let him sleep, and didn't touch his berries, though I was so hungry; and I neve=
r will
do it again truly, never, nev=
er,"
sobbed Nan, quite lost in a sea of penitence and thankfulness.
"Call them now, and let us get
home," said Mrs. Jo; and Dan, <=
/span>getting
upon the wall, sent a joyful word "Found!" ringing over the field.
How the wandering lights came dancing from=
all
sides, and gathered round the
little group among the sweet fern bushes! Such a hugging, and kissing, and talkin=
g, and
crying, as went on must have =
amazed
the glowworms, and evidently delighted the=
mosquitoes, for they hummed frantically, while the little moths came in flocks to the party, and t=
he
frogs croaked as if they could not
express their satisfaction loudly enough.
Then they set out for home, a queer party,=
for
Franz rode on to tell the new=
s; Dan
and Toby led the way; then came Nan in the strong arms of Silas, who considered her
"the smartest little baggage he
ever saw," and teased her all the way home about her pranks. Mr=
s. Bhaer would let no one carry Rob b=
ut
himself, and the little fellow, refreshed
by sleep, sat up, and chattered gayly, feeling himself a hero, while his mother went beside=
him
holding on to any pat of his
precious little body that came handy, and never tired of hearing him say, "I knew Marmar would
come," or seeing him lean down
to kiss her, and put a plump berry into her mouth, "'Cause he picked 'em all for her."
The moon shone out just as they reached the
avenue, and all the boys came
shouting to meet them, so the lost lambs were borne in triumph and safety, and landed in =
the
dining-room, where the unroma=
ntic
little things demanded supper instead of preferring kisses and caresses. They were set=
down
to bread and milk, while the =
entire
household stood round to gaze upon them. Nan soon recovered her spirits, and recount=
ed her
perils with a relish now that=
they
were all over. Rob seemed absorbed in his food, but put down his spoon all of a sudden, an=
d set
up a doleful roar.
"My precious, why do you cry?" a=
sked
his mother, who still hung ov=
er
him.
"I'm crying 'cause I was lost,"
bawled Rob, trying to squeeze out a
tear, and failing entirely.
"But you are found now. Nan says you
didn't cry out in the field, =
and I
was glad you were such a brave boy."
"I was so busy being frightened I did=
n't
have any time then. But I wan=
t to
cry now, 'cause I don't like to be lost," explained Rob, struggling with sleep, emotion, an=
d a
mouthful of bread and milk. =
span>
The boys set up such a laugh at this funny=
way
of making up for lost time, t=
hat
Rob stopped to look at them, and the merriment was so infectious, that after a surpri=
sed
stare he burst out into a merry, "Ha,
ha!" and beat his spoon upon the table as if he enjoyed the joke immensely.
"It is ten o'clock; into bed, every m=
an
of you," said Mr. Bhaer, looking
at his watch.
"And, thank Heaven! there will be no
empty ones to-night," added Mrs.
Bhaer, watching, with full eyes, Robby going up in his father's arms, and Nan escorted by=
Daisy
and Demi, who considered her =
the
most interesting heroine of their collection.
"Poor Aunt Jo is so tired she ought t=
o be
carried up herself," said gentle
Franz, putting his arm round her as she paused at the stair-foot, looking quite exhauste=
d by
her fright and long walk.
"Let's make an arm-chair," propo=
sed
Tommy.
"No, thank you, my lads; but somebody=
may
lend me a shoulder to lean
on," answered Mrs. Jo. =
span>
"Me! me!" and half-a-dozen jostl=
ed
one another, all eager to be =
chosen,
for there was something in the pale motherly face that touched the warm hearts under the =
round
jackets.
Seeing that they considered it an honor, M=
rs.
Jo gave it to the one who had
earned it, and nobody grumbled when she put her arm on Dan's broad shoulder, saying, with=
a
look that made him color up w=
ith
pride and pleasure,
"He found the children; so I think he
must help me up." =
Dan felt richly rewarded for his evening's
work, not only that he was ch=
osen
from all the rest to go proudly up bearing the lamp, but because Mrs. Jo said heartily,
"Good-night, my boy! God bless
you!" as he left her at her door.
"I wish I was your boy," said Da=
n,
who felt as if danger and trouble =
span>had
somehow brought him nearer than ever to her.
"You shall be my oldest son," and
she sealed her promise with a kiss
that made Dan hers entirely. <=
/span>
Little Rob was all right next day, but Nan=
had
a headache, and lay on Mother
Bhaer's sofa with cold-cream upon her scratched face. Her remorse was quite gone, and she
evidently thought being lost =
rather
a fine amusement. Mrs. Jo was not pleased with this state of things, and had no desire to have =
her
children led from the paths of virtue,
or her pupils lying round loose in huckleberry fields. So she talked soberly to Nan, and tried to
impress upon her mind the dif=
ference
between liberty and license, telling several tales to enforce her lecture. She had not d=
ecided
how to punish Nan, but one of=
these
stories suggested a way, and as Mrs. Jo liked odd penalties, she tried it.
"All children run away," pleaded
Nan, as if it was as natural and necessary
a thing as measles or hooping cough.
"Not all, and some who do run away do=
n't
get found again," answer=
ed
Mrs. Jo.
"Didn't you do it yourself?" ask=
ed
Nan, whose keen little eyes saw some
traces of a kindred spirit in the serious lady who was sewing so morally before her.
Mrs. Jo laughed, and owned that she did. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Tell about it," demanded Nan,
feeling that she was getting the upper
hand in the discussion.
Mrs. Jo saw that, and sobered down at once,
saying, with a remorseful sha=
ke of
the head,
"I did it a good many times, and led =
my
poor mother rather a hard lif=
e with
my pranks, till she cured me."
"How?" and Nan sat up with a face
full of interest.
"I had a new pair of shoes once, and
wanted to show them; so, thou=
gh I
was told not to leave the garden, I ran away and was wandering about all day. It was in=
the
city, and why I wasn't killed I
don't know. Such a time as I had. I frolicked in the park with dogs, sailed boats in the Back Bay=
with
strange boys, dined with a li=
ttle
Irish beggar-girl on salt fish and potatoes, and was found at last fast asleep on a door-step wi=
th my
arms round a great dog. It wa=
s late
in the evening, and I was a dirty as a little pig, and the new shoes were worn out I had trav=
elled
so far."
"How nice!" cried Nan, looking a=
ll
ready to go and do it herself.
"It was not nice next day;" and =
Mrs.
Jo tried to keep her eyes from betraying
how much she enjoyed the memory of her early capers.
"Did your mother whip you?" asked
Nan, curiously.
"She never whipped me but once, and t=
hen
she begged my pardon, or I do=
n't
think I ever should have forgiven her, it hurt my feelings so much."
"Why did she beg your pardon? my fath=
er
don't."
"Because, when she had done it, I tur=
ned
round and said, 'Well, you ar=
e mad
yourself, and ought to be whipped as much as me.' She looked at me a minute, then her
anger all died out, and she s=
aid,
as if ashamed, 'You are right, Jo, I am angry; and why should I punish you for being in a passio=
n when
I set you such a bad example?
Forgive me, dear, and let us try to help one another in a better way.' I never forgot it, an=
d it
did me more good than a dozen rods."
Nan sat thoughtfully turning the little
cold-cream jar for a minute, =
and
Mrs. Jo said nothing, but let that idea get well into the busy little mind that was so quick to s=
ee and
feel what went on about her. =
"I like that," said Nan, present=
ly,
and her face looked less elfish, with
its sharp eyes, inquisitive nose, and mischievous mouth. "What did your mother do to y=
ou
when you ran away that time?"
"She tied me to the bed-post with a l=
ong
string, so that I could not g=
o out
of the room, and there I stayed all day with the little worn-out shoes hanging up before m=
e to
remind me of my fault." <=
/span>
"I should think that would cure
anybody," cried Nan, who loved
her liberty above all things.
"It did cure me, and I think it will =
you,
so I am going to try it," said
Mrs. Jo, suddenly taking a ball of strong twine out of a drawer in her work-table.
Nan looked as if she was decidedly getting=
the
worst of the argument now, an=
d sat
feeling much crestfallen while Mrs. Jo tied one end round her waist and the ot=
her to
the arm of the sofa, saying, =
as she
finished,
"I don't like to tie you up like a
naughty little dog, but if you don't
remember any better than a dog, I must treat you like one."
"I'd just as lief be tied up as not I
like to play dog;" and Nan put on&nbs=
p;
a don't-care face, and began to growl and grovel on the floor.
Mrs. Jo took no notice, but leaving a book=
or
two and a handkerchief to hem=
, she
went away, and left Miss Nan to her own&nb=
sp;
devices. This was not agreeable, and after sitting a moment she tried to untie the cord. But it was
fastened in the belt of her apron =
span>behind,
so she began on the knot at the other end. It soon came loose, and, gathering it up, Nan w=
as
about to get out of the windo=
w,
when she heard Mrs. Jo say to somebody as she passed through the hall,
"No, I don't think she will run away =
now;
she is an honorable little gi=
rl,
and knows that I do it to help her."
In a minute, Nan whisked back, tied herself
up, and began to sew violentl=
y. Rob
came in a moment after, and was so charmed with the new punishment, that he got a
jump-rope and tethered himself to
the other arm of the sofa in the most social manner.
"I got lost too, so I ought to be tie=
d up
as much as Nan," he expl=
ained
to his mother when she saw the new captive.
"I'm not sure that you don't deserve a
little punishment, for you kn=
ew it
was wrong to go far away from the rest."
"Nan took me," began Rob, willin=
g to
enjoy the novel penalty, but =
not
willing to take the blame.
"You needn't have gone. You have got a
conscience, though you are a =
little
boy, and you must learn to mind it."
"Well, my conscience didn't prick me a
bit when she said 'Let's get =
over
the wall,' " answered Rob, quoting one of Demi's expressions.
"Did you stop to see if it did?"=
"No."
"Then you cannot tell."
"I guess it's such a little conscience
that it don't prick hard enough for
me to feel it," added Rob, after thinking the matter over for a minute.
"We must sharpen it up. It's bad to h=
ave
a dull conscience; so you may=
stay
here till dinner-time, and talk about it with Nan. I trust you both not to untie yourselves t=
ill I
say the word."
"No, we won't," said both, feeli= ng a certain sense of virtue in he= lping to punish themselves. <= o:p>
For an hour they were very good, then they
grew tired of one room, and l=
onged
to get out. Never had the hall seemed so inviting; even the little bedroom acquired a sudd=
en
interest, and they would glad=
ly have
gone in and played tent with the curtains of the best bed. The open windows drove them w=
ild
because they could not reach =
them;
and the outer world seemed so beautiful, they wondered how they ever found the h=
eart
to say it was dull. Nan pined=
for a
race round the lawn, and Rob remembered with dismay that he had not fed his dog that
morning, and wondered what poor Pollux
would do. They watched the clock, and Nan did some nice calculations in minutes and second=
s,
while Rob learned to tell all the
hours between eight and one so well that he never forgot them. It was maddening to smell the dinn=
er, to
know that there was to be suc=
cotash
and huckleberry pudding, and to feel that they would not be on the spot to secure good help=
s of
both. When Mary Ann began to =
set
the table, they nearly cut themselves in two trying to see what meat there was to be; and=
Nan
offered to help her make the =
beds,
if she would only see that she had "lots of sauce on her pudding."
When the boys came bursting out of school,
they found the children tuggi=
ng at
their halters like a pair of restive little colts, and were much edified, as well as
amused, by the sequel to the =
exciting
adventures of the night.
"Untie me now, Marmar; my conscience =
will
prick like a pin next time, I=
know
it will," said Rob, as the bell rang, and Teddy came to look at him with sorrowful surpris=
e.
"We shall see," answered his mot=
her,
setting him free. He took a g=
ood
run down the hall, back through the dining-room, and brought up beside Nan, quite beami=
ng
with virtuous satisfaction. =
span>
"I'll bring her dinner to her, may
I?" he asked, pitying his fellow-captive.
"That's my kind little son! Yes, pull=
out
the table, and get a chair;" =
span>and
Mrs. Jo hurried away to quell the ardor of the others, who were always in a raging state of h=
unger
at noon.
Nan ate alone, and spent a long afternoon
attached to the sofa. Mrs. Bh=
aer
lengthened her bonds so that she could look out of the window; and there she stood watchi=
ng the
boys play, and all the little
summer creatures enjoying their liberty. Daisy had a picnic for the dolls on the lawn, so that=
Nan
might see the fun if she could not
join in it. Tommy turned his best somersaults to console her; Demi sat on the steps reading alou=
d to
himself, which amused Nan a g=
ood
deal; and Dan brought a little tree-toad to show her as the most delicate attention in his pow=
er.
But nothing atoned for the loss of freedom;
and a few hours of confinement
taught Nan how precious it was. A good many thoughts went through the little h=
ead
that lay on the window-sill d=
uring
the last quiet hour when all the children went to the brook to see Emil's new ship launched. S=
he was
to have christened it, and had
depended on smashing a tiny bottle of currant-wine over the prow as it was named Josephine in =
honor
of Mrs. Bhaer. Now she had lo=
st her
chance, and Daisy wouldn't do it half so well. Tears rose to her eyes as she remembered=
that
it was all her own fault; and=
she
said aloud, addressing a fat bee who was rolling about in the yellow heart of a rose just un=
der
the window,
"If you have run away, you'd better go
right home, and tell your mot=
her
you are sorry, and never do so any more."
"I am glad to hear you give him such =
good
advice, and I think he has ta=
ken
it," said Mrs. Jo, smiling, as the bee spread his dusty wings and flew away.
Nan brushed off a bright drop or two that
shone on the window-sill, and
nestled against her friend as she took her on her knee, adding kindly for she had se=
en the
little drops, and knew what t=
hey
meant
"Do you think my mother's cure for
running away a good one?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Nan, quite
subdued by her quiet day.
"I hope I shall not have to try it
again."
"I guess not;" and Nan looked up
with such an earnest little face that
Mrs. Jo felt satisfied, and said no more, for she liked to have her penalties do their own work, a=
nd did
not spoil the effect by too m=
uch
moralizing.
Here Rob appeared, bearing with infinite c=
are
what Asia called a "sarc=
er
pie," meaning one baked in a saucer.
"It's made out of some of my berries,=
and
I'm going to give you half at
supper-time," he announced with a flourish.
"What makes you, when I'm so
naughty?" asked Nan, meekly.
"Because we got lost together. You ai=
n't
going to be naughty again, are
you?"
"Never," said Nan, with great
decision.
"Oh, goody! now let's go and get Mary=
Ann
to cut this for us all ready =
to
eat; it's 'most tea time;" and Rob beckoned with the delicious little pie.
Nan started to follow, then stopped, and s=
aid,
"I forgot, I can't go."
"Try and see," said Mrs. Bhaer, =
who
had quietly untied the cord s=
ash
while she had been talking. =
span>
Nan saw that she was free, and with one
tempestuous kiss to Mrs. Jo, =
she
was off like a humming-bird, followed by Robby, dribbling huckleberry juice as he ran.
CHAPTER XIII GOLDILOCKS<=
span
class=3DCharChar2>
After the last excitement peace descended =
upon
Plumfield and reigned unbroke=
n for
several weeks, for the elder boys felt that the loss of Nan and Rob lay at their d=
oor,
and all became so paternal in=
their
care that they were rather wearying; while the little ones listened to Nan's recital of her p=
erils
so many times, that they rega=
rded
being lost as the greatest ill humanity was heir to, and hardly dared to put their little n=
oses
outside the great gate lest n=
ight
should suddenly descend upon them, and ghostly black cows come looming through the dusk.
"It is too good to last," said M=
rs.
Jo; for years of boy-culture had taught
her that such lulls were usually followed by outbreaks of some sort, and when less wise women
would have thought that the b=
oys
had become confirmed saints, she prepared herself for a sudden eruption of the domestic vo=
lcano.
One cause of this welcome calm was a visit
from little Bess, whose paren=
ts
lent her for a week while they were away with Grandpa Laurence, who was poorly. =
The
boys regarded Goldilocks as a
mixture of child, angel, and fairy, for she was a lovely little creature, and the golden hair whic=
h she
inherited from her blonde mam=
ma
enveloped her like a shining veil, behind which she smiled upon her worshippers when
gracious, and hid herself when offended.
Her father would not have it cut and it hung below her waist, so soft and fine and bright=
, that
Demi insisted that it was sil=
k spun
from a cocoon. Every one praised the little Princess, but it did not seem to do her harm, on=
ly to
teach her that her presence b=
rought
sunshine, her smiles made answering smiles on other faces, and her baby griefs filled =
every
heart with tenderest sympathy=
.
Unconsciously, she did her young subjects =
more
good than many a real soverei=
gn,
for her rule was very gentle and her power was felt rather than seen. Her natural refi=
nement
made her dainty in all things=
, and
had a good effect upon the careless lads about her. She would let no one touch her roughly=
or
with unclean hands, and more =
soap
was used during her visits than at any other time, because the boys considered it the
highest honor to be allowed to carry
her highness, and the deepest disgrace to be repulsed with the disdainful command, "Do a=
way,
dirty boy!"
Lour voices displeased her and quarrelling
frightened her; so gentler to=
nes
came into the boyish voices as they addressed her, and squabbles were promptly suppre=
ssed
in her presence by lookers-on=
if
the principles could not restrain themselves. She liked to be waited on, and the big=
gest
boys did her little errands w=
ithout
a murmur, while the small lads were her devoted slaves in all things. They begged to be allo=
wed to
draw her carriage, bear her
berry-basket, or pass her plate at table. No service was too humble, and Tommy and Ned came to =
blows
before they could decide which
should have the honor of blacking her little boots.
Nan was especially benefited by a week in =
the
society of a well-bred lady, =
though
such a very small one; for Bess would look=
at her with a mixture of wonder and alarm in her great blue eyes when the hoyden screamed and rompe=
d; and
she shrunk from her as if she
thought her a sort of wild animal. Warm-hearted Nan felt this very much. She said at first,
"Pooh! I don't care!" But she did care, and was so hurt when Bess sa=
id,
"I love my tuzzin best, tause <=
/span>she
is twiet," that she shook poor Daisy till her teeth chattered in her head, and then fled to the bar=
n to
cry dismally. In that general refuge
for perturbed spirits she found comfort and good counsel from some source or other. Perhaps=
the
swallows from their mud-built=
nests
overhead twittered her a little lecture on the beauty of gentleness. However that might =
have
been, she came out quite subd=
ued,
and carefully searched the orchard for a certain kind of early apple that Bess liked becaus=
e it
was sweet and small and rosy.=
Armed
with this peace-offering, she approached the little Princess, and humbly presented it.=
To
her great joy it was gracious=
ly
accepted, and when Daisy gave Nan a forgiving kiss, Bess did likewise, as if she felt =
that
she had been too severe, and =
desired
to apologize. After this they played pleasantly together, and Nan enjoyed the royal favor for
days. To be sure she felt a l=
ittle
like a wild bird in a pretty cage at first, and occasionally had to slip out to stretch her wings i=
n a
long flight, or to sing at the top <=
/span>of
her voice, where neither would disturb the plump turtle-dove Daisy, nor the dainty golden canary
Bess. But it did her good; for, seeing
how every one loved the little Princess for her small graces and virtues, she began to imitate =
her, because
Nan wanted much love, and tri=
ed
hard to win it.
Not a boy in the house but felt the pretty
child's influence, and was im=
proved
by it without exactly knowing how or why, for babies can work miracles in the hearts th=
at
love them. Poor Billy found i=
nfinite
satisfaction in staring at her, and though she did not like it she permitted without a frown, aft=
er she
had been made to understand t=
hat he
was not quite like the others, and on that=
account must be more kindly treated. Dick and Dolly overwhelmed her with willow whistl=
es,
the only thing they knew how =
to
make, and she accepted but never used them. Rob served her like a little lover, and Teddy
followed her like a pet dog. Jack =
span>she
did not like, because he was afflicted with warts and had a harsh voice. Stuffy displeased her
because he did not eat tidily, and <=
/span>George
tried hard not to gobble, that he might not disgust the dainty little lady opposite. Ned w=
as
banished from court in utter =
disgrace
when he was discovered tormenting some unhappy field-mice. Goldilocks could never
forget the sad spectacle, and retired
behind her veil when he approached, waving him away with an imperious little hand, and
crying, in a tone of mingled =
grief
and anger,
"No, I tarn't love him; he tut the po=
or
mouses' little tails off, and they
queeked!"
Daisy promptly abdicated when Bess came, a=
nd
took the humble post of chief=
cook,
while Nan was first maid of honor; Emil was chancellor of the exchequer, and s=
pent
the public monies lavishly in
getting up spectacles that cost whole ninepences. Franz was prime minister, and directed her a=
ffairs
of state, planned royal progr=
esses
through the kingdom, and kept foreign powers in order. Demi was her philosopher, and fare=
d much
better than such gentlemen us=
ually
do among crowned heads. Dan was her standing army, and defended her territories
gallantly; Tommy was court fo=
ol,
and Nat a tuneful Rizzio to this innocent little Mary.
Uncle Fritz and Aunt Jo enjoyed this peace=
ful
episode, and looked on at the
pretty play in which the young folk unconsciously imitated their elders, without add=
ing
the tragedy that is so apt to spoil
the dramas acted on the larger stage.
"They teach us quite as much as we te=
ach
them," said Mr. Bhaer. =
span>
"Bless the dears! they never guess how
many hints they give us as to=
the
best way of managing them," answered Mrs. Jo.
"I think you were right about the good
effect of having girls among =
the
boys. Nan has stirred up Daisy, and Bess is teaching the little bears how to behave better than we=
can.
If this reformation goes on a=
s it
has begun, I shall soon feel like Dr. Blimber with his model young gentlemen," said Profes=
sor,
laughing, as he saw Tommy not only
remove his own hat, but knock off Ned's also, as they entered the hall where the Princess was ta=
king a
ride on the rocking-horse, at=
tended
by Rob and Teddy astride of chairs, and playing gallant knights to the best of their abili=
ty.
"You will never be a Blimber, Fritz, =
you
couldn't do it if you tried; =
and our
boys will never submit to the forcing process of that famous hot-bed. No fear that they =
will
be too elegant: American boys=
like
liberty too well. But good manners they cannot fail to have, if we give them the kindly s=
pirit
that shines through the simpl=
est
demeanor, making it courteous and cordial, like yours, my dear old boy."
"Tut! tut! we will not compliment; fo=
r if
I begin you will run away, an=
d I
have a wish to enjoy this happy half hour to the end;" yet Mr. Bhaer looked pleased with the comp=
liment,
for it was true, and Mrs. Jo =
felt
that she had received the best her husband could give her, by saying that he found his t=
ruest
rest and happiness in her soc=
iety.
"To return to the children: I have ju=
st
had another proof of Goldiloc=
ks' good
influence," said Mrs. Jo, drawing her chair nearer the sofa, where the Professor lay
resting after a long day's work in <=
/span>his
various gardens. "Nan hates sewing, but for love of Bess has been toiling half the afternoon ov=
er a
remarkable bag in which to pr=
esent
a dozen of our love-apples to her idol when she goes. I praised her for it, and she said, =
in her
quick way, 'I like to sew for other
people; it is stupid sewing for myself.' I took the hint, and shall give her some little shirts =
and
aprons for Mrs. Carney's chil=
dren.
She is so generous, she will sew her fingers sore for them, and I shall not have to make=
a
task of it."
"But needlework is not a fashionable
accomplishment, my dear."
"Sorry for it. My girls shall learn a=
ll I
can teach them about it, even if
they give up the Latin, Algebra, and half-a-dozen ologies it is considered necessary for girls to =
muddle
their poor brains over now-a-=
days.
Amy means to make Bess an accomplished woman, but the dear's mite of a forefinge=
r has
little pricks on it already, =
and
her mother has several specimens of needlework which she values more than the clay bird wit=
hout a
bill, that filled Laurie with=
such
pride when Bess made it."
"I also have proof of the Princess's
power," said Mrs. Bhaer, after
he had watched Mrs. Jo sew on a button with an air of scorn for the whole system of fashionable
education. "Jack is so unwilling to&n=
bsp;
be classed with Stuffy and Ned, as distasteful to Bess, that he came=
to me a little while ago, and aske=
d me
to touch his warts with caust=
ic. I
have often proposed it, and he never would consent; but now he bore the smart manfully, and
consoles his present discomfo=
rt by
hopes of future favor, when he can show her fastidious ladyship a smooth hand.=
"
Mrs. Bhaer laughed at the story, and just =
then
Stuffy came in to ask if he m=
ight
give Goldilocks some of the bonbons his mother had sent him.
"She is not allowed to eat sweeties; =
but
if you like to give her the p=
retty
box with the pink sugar-rose in it, she would like it very much," said Mrs. Jo, unwillin=
g to
spoil this unusual piece of s=
elf-denial,
for the "fat boy" seldom offered to share his sugar-plums.
"Won't she eat it? I shouldn't like to
make her sick," said Stuffy, =
span>eyeing
the delicate sweetmeat lovingly, yet putting it into the box.
"Oh, no, she won't touch it, if I tell
her it is to look at, not to eat. =
span>She
will keep it for weeks, and never think of tasting it. Can you do as much?"
"I should hope so! I'm ever so much o=
lder
than she is," cried Stuf=
fy,
indignantly.
"Well, suppose we try. Here, put your
bonbons in this bag, and see =
how
long you can keep them. Let me count two hearts, four red fishes, three barley-sugar horses,=
nine
almonds, and a dozen chocolate
drops. Do you agree to that?" asked sly Mrs. Jo, popping the sweeties into her little spool=
-bag.
"Yes," said Stuffy, with a sigh;=
and
pocketing the forbidden fruit, he
went away to give Bess the present, that won a smile from her, and permission to escort her round=
the
garden.
"Poor Stuffy's heart has really got t=
he
better of his stomach at last, and
his efforts will be much encouraged by the rewards Bess gives him," said Mrs. Jo.
"Happy is the man who can put temptat=
ion
in his pocket and learn self-=
denial
from so sweet a little teacher!" added Mr. Bhaer, as the children passed the window, Stuffy=
's fat
face full of placid satisfact=
ion,
and Goldilocks surveying her sugar-rose with polite interest, though she would have
preferred a real flower with a "pitty
smell."
When her father came to take her home, a
universal wail arose, and the
parting gifts showered upon her increased her luggage to such an extent that Mr. Laurie pro=
posed
having out the big wagon to t=
ake it
into town. Every one had given her something; and it was found difficult to pack white mice,
cake, a parcel of shells, apples, =
span>a
rabbit kicking violently in a bag, a large cabbage for his refreshment, a bottle of minnows, =
and a
mammoth bouquet. The farewell=
scene
was moving, for the Princess sat upon the&=
nbsp;
hall-table, surrounded by her subjects. She kissed her cousins, and<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> held out her hand to the other boy=
s, who
shook it gently with various =
soft
speeches, for they were taught not to be ashamed of showing their emotions.
"Come again soon, little dear,"
whispered Dan, fastening his best =
span>green-and-gold
beetle in her hat.
"Don't forget me, Princess, whatever =
you
do," said the engaging T=
ommy,
taking a last stroke of the pretty hair.
"I am coming to your house next week,=
and
then I shall see you, Bess,&q=
uot;
added Nat, as if he found consolation in the thought.
"Do shake hands now," cried Jack,
offering a smooth paw. =
"Here are two nice new ones to rememb=
er
us by," said Dick and Do=
lly,
presenting fresh whistles, quite unconscious that seven old ones had been privately deposited =
in the
kitchen-stove.
"My little precious! I shall work you=
a
book-mark right away, and you=
must
keep it always," said Nan, with a warm embrace.
But of all the farewells, poor Billy's was=
the
most pathetic, for the though=
t that
she was really going became so unbearable that he cast himself down before her, hugg=
ing
her little blue boots and blu=
bbering
despairingly, "Don't go away! oh, don't!" Goldilocks was so touched by this burst of fe=
eling,
that she leaned over and lift=
ing
the poor lad's head, said, in her soft, little voice,
"Don't cry, poor Billy! I will tiss y=
ou
and tum adain soon."
This promise consoled Billy, and he fell b=
ack
beaming with pride at the unu=
sual
honor conferred upon him.
"Me too! me too!" clamored Dick =
and
Dolly, feeling that their dev=
otion
deserved some return. The others looked as if they would like to join in the cry; and somet=
hing
in the kind, merry faces abou=
t her
moved the Princess to stretch out her arms and say, with reckless condescension,
"I will tiss evvybody!"
Like a swarm of bees about a very sweet
flower, the affectionate lads
surrounded their pretty playmate, and kissed her till she looked like a little rose, not rou=
ghly,
but so enthusiastically that =
nothing
but the crown of her hat was visible for a moment. Then her father rescued her, and she dr=
ove
away still smiling and waving=
her
hands, while the boys sat on the fence screaming like a flock of guinea-fowls, "Come =
back!
come back!" till she was out =
span>of
sight.
They all missed her, and each dimly felt t=
hat
he was better for having know=
n a
creature so lovely, delicate, and sweet; for little Bess appealed to the chivalrous in=
stinct
in them as something to love,
admire, and protect with a tender sort of reverence. Many a man remembers some pretty child wh=
o has
made a place in his heart and=
kept
her memory alive by the simple magic of her innocence; these little men were j=
ust
learning to feel this power, =
and to
love it for its gentle influence, not ashamed to let the small hand lead them, nor to own their l=
oyalty
to womankind, even in the bud=
.
Mrs. Bhaer was right; peace was only a
temporary lull, a storm was
brewing, and two days after Bess left, a moral earthquake shook Plumfield to its centre.
Tommy's hens were at the bottom of the
trouble, for if they had not =
persisted
in laying so many eggs, he could not have sold them and made such sums. Money is the root =
of all
evil, and yet it is such a us=
eful
root that we cannot get on without it any more than we can without potatoes. Tommy certainly =
could
not, for he spent his income =
so
recklessly, that Mr. Bhaer was obliged to insist on a savings-bank, and presented him wi=
th a
private one an imposing tin
edifice, with the name over the door, and a tall chimney, down which the pennies were to go, ther=
e to
rattle temptingly till leave =
was
given to open a sort of trap-door in the floor.
The house increased in weight so rapidly, =
that
Tommy soon became satisfied w=
ith
his investment, and planned to buy <=
/span>unheard-of
treasures with his capital. He kept account of the sums deposited, and was promised that he
might break the bank as soon =
as he
had five dollars, on condition that he spent the money wisely. Only one dollar was needed, and th=
e day
Mrs. Jo paid him for four doz=
en
eggs, he was so delighted, that he raced off to the barn to display the bright quarters to Nat=
, who
was also laying by money for =
the
long-desired violin.
"I wish I had 'em to put with my three
dollars, then I'd soon get en=
ough
to buy my fiddle," he said, looking wistfully at the money.
"P'raps I'll lend you some. I haven't
decided yet what I'll do with mine,"
said Tommy, tossing up his quarters and catching them as they fell.
"Hi! boys! come down to the brook and=
see
what a jolly great snake Dan's
got!" called a voice from behind the barn.
"Come on," said Tommy; and, layi=
ng
his money inside the old winn=
owing
machine, away he ran, followed by Nat.
The snake was very interesting, and then a
long chase after a lame crow,=
and
its capture, so absorbed Tommy's mind and time, that he never thought of his money till he=
was
safely in bed that night.
"Never mind, no one but Nat knows whe=
re
it is," said the easy-go=
ing
lad, and fell asleep untroubled by any anxiety about his property.
Next morning, just as the boys assembled f=
or
school, Tommy rushed into the=
room
breathlessly, demanding,
"I say, who has got my dollar?" =
"What are you talking about?" as=
ked
Franz.
Tommy explained, and Nat corroborated his
statement.
Every one else declared they knew nothing
about it, and began to look
suspiciously at Nat, who got more and more alarmed and confused with each denial.
"Somebody must have taken it," s=
aid
Franz, as Tommy shook his fis=
t at
the whole party, and wrathfully declared that
"By thunder turtles! if I get hold of=
the
thief, I'll give him what he =
won't
forget in a hurry."
"Keep cool, Tom; we shall find him ou=
t;
thieves always come to grief,=
"
said Dan, as one who knew something of the matter.
"May be some tramp slept in the barn =
and
took it," suggested Ned.
"No, Silas don't allow that; besides,=
a
tramp wouldn't go looking in =
that
old machine for money," said Emil, with scorn.
"Wasn't it Silas himself?" said
Jack.
"Well, I like that! Old Si is as hone=
st
as daylight. You wouldn't cat=
ch him
touching a penny of ours," said Tommy, handsomely defending his chief admirer from
suspicion.
"Whoever it was had better tell, and =
not
wait to be found out," said Demi,
looking as if an awful misfortune had befallen the family.
"I know you think it's me," broke
out Nat, red and excited.
"You are the only one who knew where =
it
was," said Franz. =
"I can't help it I didn't take it. I =
tell
you I didn't I didn't!" cried Nat,&nb=
sp;
in a desperate sort of way.
"Gently, gently, my son! What is all = this noise about?" and Mr. Bh= aer walked in among them. <= o:p>
Tommy repeated the story of his loss, and,=
as
he listened, Mr. Bhaer's face=
grew
graver and graver; for, with all their faults and follies, the lads till now had been
honest.
"Take your seats," he said; and,
when all were in their places, he =
span>added
slowly, as his eye went from face to face with a grieved look, that was harder to bear than=
a
storm of words,
"Now, boys, I shall ask each one of y=
ou a
single question, and I want an
honest answer. I am not going to try to frighten, bribe, or surprise the truth out of you, for=
every
one of you have got a conscie=
nce,
and know what it is for. Now is the time to undo the wrong done to Tommy, and set yours=
elves
right before us all. I can fo=
rgive
the yielding to sudden temptation much easier than I can deceit. Don't add a lie to the the=
ft,
but confess frankly, and we will all
try to help you make us forget and forgive."
He paused a moment, and one might have hea=
rd a
pin drop, the room was so sti=
ll;
then slowly and impressively he put the question to each one, receiving the same an=
swer
in varying tones from all. Ev=
ery
face was flushed and excited, so that Mr. Bhaer could not take color as a witness, and some =
of the
little boys were so frightene=
d that
they stammered over the two short words as if guilty, though it was evident that=
they
could not be. When he came to=
Nat,
his voice softened, for the poor lad looked so wretched, Mr. Bhaer felt for him. He believed hi=
m to
be the culprit, and hoped to =
save
the boy from another lie, by winning him to tell the truth without fear.
"Now, my son, give me an honest answe=
r.
Did you take the money?"=
"No, sir!" and Nat looked up at =
him
imploringly.
As the words fell from his trembling lips,
somebody hissed.
"Stop that!" cried Mr. Bhaer, wi=
th a
sharp rap on his desk, as he =
looked
sternly toward the corner whence the sound came.
Ned, Jack, and Emil sat there, and the fir=
st
two looked ashamed of themsel=
ves,
but Emil called out,
"It wasn't me, uncle! I'd be ashamed =
to
hit a fellow when he is down.=
"
"Good for you!" cried Tommy, who=
was
in a sad state of affliction =
at the
trouble his unlucky dollar had made.
"Silence!" commanded Mr. Bhaer; =
and
when it came, he said soberly=
,
"I am very sorry, Nat, but evidences =
are
against you, and your old fau=
lt
makes us more ready to doubt you than we should be if we could trust you as we do some of t=
he
boys, who never fib. But mind=
, my
child, I do not charge you with this theft; I shall not punish you for it till I am perfec=
tly
sure, nor ask any thing more =
about
it. I shall leave it for you to settle with your own conscience. If you are guilty, come to me at a=
ny
hour of the day or night and =
confess
it, and I will forgive and help you to amend. If you are innocent, the truth will appear so=
oner
or later, and the instant it =
does,
I will be the first to beg your pardon for doubting you, and will so gladly do my best to clear=
your
character before us all."
"I didn't! I didn't!" sobbed Nat,
with his head down upon his arms, =
span>for
he could not bear the look of distrust and dislike which he read in the many eyes fixed on him.
"I hope not." Mr. Bhaer paused a
minute, as if to give the culprit, <=
/span>whoever
he might be, one more chance. Nobody spoke, however, and only sniffs of sympathy from s=
ome of
the little fellows broke the =
silence.
Mr. Bhaer shook his head, and added, regretfully,
"There is nothing more to be done, th=
en,
and I have but one thing to s=
ay: I
shall not speak of this again, and I wish you all to follow my example. I cannot expect you to=
feel
as kindly toward any one whom=
you
suspect as before this happened, but I do expect and desire that you will not torment t=
he
suspected person in any way, =
he
will have a hard enough time without that. Now go to your lessons."
"Father Bhaer let Nat off too easy,&q=
uot;
muttered Ned to Emil, as they got
out their books.
"Hold your tongue," growled Emil,
who felt that this event was a blot
upon the family honor. =
Many of the boys agreed with Ned, but Mr.
Bhaer was right, nevertheless=
; and
Nat would have been wiser to confess on the spot and have the trouble over, fo=
r even
the hardest whipping he ever
received from his father was far easier to bear than the cold looks, the avoidance, and general
suspicion that met him on all sides.
If ever a boy was sent to Coventry and kept there, it was poor Nat; and he suffered a week o=
f slow
torture, though not a hand was
raised against him, and hardly a word said.
That was the worst of it; if they would on=
ly
have talked it out, or even h=
ave
thrashed him all round, he could have stood it better than the silent distrust that made=
very
face so terrible to meet. Eve=
n Mrs.
Bhaer's showed traces of it, though her manner was nearly as kind as ever; but the
sorrowful anxious look in Father Bhaer's
eyes cut Nat to the heart, for he loved his teacher dearly, and knew that he had disappointed =
all
his hopes by this double sin.
Only one person in the house entirely beli=
eved
in him, and stood up for him
stoutly against all the rest. This was Daisy. She could not explain why she trusted him ag=
ainst
all appearances, she only fel=
t that
she could not doubt him, and her warm sympathy made her strong to take his part. She w=
ould
not hear a word against him f=
rom
any one, and actually slapped her beloved Demi when he tried to convince her that it must=
have
been Nat, because no one else=
knew
where the money was.
"Maybe the hens ate it; they are gree=
dy
old things," she said; and when
Demi laughed, she lost her temper, slapped the amazed boy, and then burst out crying and ran =
away,
still declaring, "He didn't! =
span>he
didn't! he didn't!"
Neither aunt nor uncle tried to shake the
child's faith in her friend, =
but
only hoped her innocent instinct might prove sure, and loved her all the better for it. Nat oft=
en
said, after it was over, that he couldn't
have stood it, if it had not been for Daisy. When the others shunned him, she clung to him clos=
er
than ever, and turned her bac=
k on
the rest. She did not sit on the stairs now when he solaced himself with the old fiddle, but w=
ent in
and sat beside him, listening=
with
a face so full of confidence and affection, that Nat forgot disgrace for a time, and was
happy. She asked him to help =
her
with her lessons, she cooked him marvelous messes in her kitchen, which he ate manfully, no
matter what they were, for gr=
atitude
gave a sweet flavor to the most distasteful. She proposed impossible games of cricket and ba=
ll,
when she found that he shrank=
from
joining the other boys. She put little nosegays from her garden on his desk, and tried =
in
every way to show that she was not
a fair-weather friend, but faithful through evil as well as good repute. Nan soon followed her exam=
ple,
in kindness at least; curbed =
her
sharp tongue, and kept her scornful little nose from any demonstration of doubt or dislike,=
which
was good of Madame Giddy-gadd=
y, for
she firmly believed that Nat took the money.
Most of the boys let him severely alone, b=
ut
Dan, though he said he despis=
ed him
for being a coward, watched over him with a grim sort of protection, and promptly c=
uffed
any lad who dared to molest h=
is
mate or make him afraid. His idea of friendship was as high as Daisy's, and, in his own r=
ough
way, he lived up to it as loy=
ally.
Sitting by the brook one afternoon, absorb=
ed
in the study of the domestic =
habits
of water-spiders, he overheard a bit of&nb=
sp;
conversation on the other side of the wall. Ned, who was intensely inquisitive, had been on tenterhoo=
ks to
know certainly who was the cu=
lprit;
for of late one or two of the boys had begun to think that they were wrong, Nat was so
steadfast in his denials, and so meek
in his endurance of their neglect. This doubt had teased Ned past bearing, and he had several t=
imes
privately beset Nat with ques=
tions,
regardless of Mr. Bhaer's express command. Finding Nat reading alone on the shady sid=
e of
the wall, Ned could not resist
stopping for a nibble at the forbidden subject. He had worried Nat for some ten minutes b=
efore
Dan arrived, and the first wo=
rds
the spider-student heard were these, in Nat's patient, pleading voice,
"Don't, Ned! oh, don't! I can't tell =
you
because I don't know, and it's mean
of you to keep nagging at me on the sly, when Father Bhaer told you not to plague me. You wou=
ldn't
dare to if Dan was round."
"I ain't afraid of Dan; he's nothing =
but
an old bully. Don't believe b=
ut
what he took Tom's money, and you know it, and won't tell. Come, now!"
"He didn't, but, if he did, I would s=
tand
up for him, he has always bee=
n so
good to me," said Nat, so earnestly that Dan forgot his spiders, and rose quickly to thank=
him,
but Ned's next words arrested=
him.
"I know Dan did it, and gave the mone=
y to
you. Shouldn't wonder if he g=
ot his
living picking pockets before he came here, for nobody knows any thing about him b=
ut
you," said Ned, not beli=
eving
his own words, but hoping to get the truth out of Nat by making him angry.
He succeeded in a part of his ungenerous w=
ish,
for Nat cried out, fiercely, =
"If you say that again I'll go and te=
ll
Mr. Bhaer all about it. I don't want
to tell tales, but, by George! I will, if you don't let Dan alone."
"Then you'll be a sneak, as well as a
liar and a thief," began Ned, <=
/span>with
a jeer, for Nat had borne insult to himself so meekly, the other did not believe he would dar=
e to
face the master just to stand up
for Dan.
What he might have added I cannot tell, for
the words were hardly out of =
his
mouth when a long arm from behind took him by the collar, and, jerking him over the =
wall
in a most promiscuous way, la=
nded
him with a splash in the middle of the brook.
"Say that again and I'll duck you till
you can't see!" cried Dan, looking
like a modern Colossus of Rhodes as he stood, with a foot on either side of the narrow strea=
m,
glaring down at the discomfit=
ed youth
in the water.
"I was only in fun," said Ned. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"You are a sneak yourself to badger N=
at
round the corner. Let me catc=
h you
at it again, and I'll souse you in the river next time. Get up, and clear out!" thundered=
Dan,
in a rage.
Ned fled, dripping, and his impromptu
sitz-bath evidently did him g=
ood,
for he was very respectful to both the boys after that, and seemed to have left his curiosity =
in the
brook. As he vanished Dan jum=
ped
over the wall, and found Nat lying, as if quite worn out and bowed down with his troubles. =
"He won't pester you again, I guess. =
If
he does, just tell me, and I'll see
to him," said Dan, trying to cool down.
"I don't mind what he says about me so
much, I've got used to it," answered
Nat sadly; "but I hate to have him pitch into you."
"How do you know he isn't right?"
asked Dan, turning his face a=
way.
"What, about the money?" cried N=
at,
looking up with a startled air.
"Yes."
"But I don't believe it! You don't ca=
re
for money; all you want is yo=
ur old
bugs and things," and Nat laughed, incredulously.
"I want a butterfly net as much as you
want a fiddle; why shouldn't I
steal the money for it as much as you?" said Dan, still turning away, and busily punching holes in=
the
turf with his stick.
"I don't think you would. You like to
fight and knock folks round s=
ometimes,
but you don't lie, and I don't believe you'd steal," and Nat shook his head decidedly.
"I've done both. I used to fib like f=
ury;
it's too much trouble now; an=
d I
stole things to eat out of gardens when I ran away from Page, so you see I am a bad lot," s=
aid
Dan, speaking in the rough, r=
eckless
way which he had been learning to drop lately.
"O Dan! don't say it's you! I'd rather
have it any of the other boys,"
cried Nat, in such a distressed tone that Dan looked pleased, and
"I won't say any thing about it. But
don't you fret, and we'll pull through
somehow, see if we don't."
Something in his face and manner gave Nat a
new idea; and he said, pressi=
ng his
hands together, in the eagerness of his appeal,
"I think you know who did it. If you =
do,
beg him to tell, Dan. It's so hard
to have 'em all hate me for nothing. I don't think I can bear it much longer. If I had any place to=
go
to, I'd run away, though I love Plumfield
dearly; but I'm not brave and big like you, so I must stay and wait till some one shows them =
that I
haven't lied."
As he spoke, Nat looked so broken and
despairing, that Dan could no=
t bear
it, and, muttered huskily,
"You won't wait long," and he wa=
lked
rapidly away, and was seen no=
more
for hours.
"What is the matter with Dan?" a=
sked
the boys of one another sever=
al times
during the Sunday that followed a week which seemed as if it would never end. D=
an was
often moody, but that day he =
was so
sober and silent that no one could get any thing out of him. When they walked he straye=
d away
from the rest, and came home =
late.
He took no part in the evening conversation, but sat in the shadow, so busy with hi=
s own
thoughts that he scarcely see=
med to
hear what was going on. When Mrs. Jo showed him an unusually good report in the Consc=
ience
Book, he looked at it without=
a smile,
and said, wistfully,
"You think I am getting on, don't
you?"
"Excellently, Dan! and I am so please=
d,
because I always thought you =
only
needed a little help to make you a boy to be proud of."
He looked up at her with a strange express=
ion in
his black eyes an expression =
of
mingled pride and love and sorrow which she could not understand then but remembered
afterward.
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, b=
ut I
do try," he said, shutting the
book with no sign of pleasure in the page that he usually liked so much to read over and talk abou=
t.
"Are you sick, dear?" asked Mrs.=
Jo,
with her hand on his shoulder.
"My foot aches a little; I guess I'll=
go
to bed. Good-night, mother," =
span>he
added, and held the hand against his cheek a minute, then went away looking as if he had said goo=
d-bye
to something dear.
"Poor Dan! he takes Nat's disgrace to
heart sadly. He is a strange =
boy; I
wonder if I ever shall understand him thoroughly?" said Mrs. Jo to herself, as she thought over=
Dan's
late improvement with real sa=
tisfaction,
yet felt that there was more in the lad than she had at first suspected.
One of things which cut Nat most deeply wa=
s an
act of Tommy's, for after his=
loss
Tommy had said to him, kindly, but firmly,
"I don't wish to hurt you, Nat, but y= ou see I can't afford to lose my money, so I guess we won't be partners any longer;" and with that Tommy rubbed out the sign, "T. Bangs & Co." <= o:p>
Nat had been very proud of the
"Co.," and had hunted eggs
industriously, kept his accounts all straight, and had added a good<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> sum to his income from the sale of=
his
share of stock in trade.
"O Tom! must you?" he said, feel=
ing
that his good name was gone f=
or
ever in the business world if this was done.
"I must," returned Tommy, firmly.
"Emil says that when one man =
span>'bezzles
(believe that's the word it means to take money and cut away with it) the property of a fi=
rm,
the other one sues him, or pi=
tches
into him somehow, and won't have any thing more to do with him. Now you have 'bezzled my
property; I shan't sue you, a=
nd I
shan't pitch into you, but I must dissolve the partnership, because I can't trust you, and I d=
on't
wish to fail."
"I can't make you believe me, and you
won't take my money, though I=
'd be
thankful to give all my dollars if you'd only say you don't think I took your money. Do =
let me
hunt for you, I won't ask any
wages, but do it for nothing. I know all the places, and I like it," pleaded Nat.
But Tommy shook his head, and his jolly ro=
und
face looked suspicious and ha=
rd as
he said, shortly, "Can't do it; wish you didn't know the places. Mind you don't go
hunting on the sly, and specu=
late
in my eggs."
Poor Nat was so hurt that he could not get over it. He felt that he had = lost not only his partner and patron, but that he was bankrupt in honor, and an outlaw from the business community. No one tr= usted his word, written or spoken, in spite of his efforts to redeem the past falsehood; the sig= n was down, the firm broken up, and= he a ruined man. The barn, which was the boys' Wall Street, knew him no more. Cockletop and her sisters cackled for him in va= in, and really seemed to take his misfortune to heart, for eggs were fewer, and some of the biddies retired in disgust to new nests, which Tommy could not find. <= o:p>
"They trust me," said Nat, when =
he
heard of it; and though the boys shouted
at the idea, Nat found comfort in it, for when one is down in the world, the confidence of ev=
en a
speckled hen is most consolin=
g.
Tommy took no new partner, however, for
distrust had entered in, and
poisoned the peace of his once confiding soul. Ned offered to join him, but he declined, saying,=
with
a sense of justice that did h=
im
honor,
"It might turn out that Nat didn't ta=
ke
my money, and then we could be
partners again. I don't think it will happen, but I will give him a chance, and keep the place o=
pen a
little longer."
Billy was the only person whom Bangs felt =
he
could trust in his shop, and =
Billy
was trained to hunt eggs, and hand them over unbroken, being quite satisfied wi=
th an
apple or a sugar-plum for wag=
es.
The morning after Dan's gloomy Sunday, Billy said to his employer, as he displayed the resu=
lts of
a long hunt,
"Only two."
"It gets worse and worse; I never saw=
such
provoking old hens," gro=
wled
Tommy, thinking of the days when he often had six to rejoice over. "Well, put 'em =
in my
hat and give me a new bit of =
chalk;
I must mark 'em up, any way."
Billy mounted a peck-measure, and looked i=
nto
the top of the machine, where=
Tommy
kept his writing materials. =
span>
"There's lots of money in here,"
said Billy.
"No, there isn't. Catch me leaving my
cash round again," returned Tommy.
"I see 'em one, four, eight, two
dollars," persisted Billy, who had&nb=
sp;
not yet mastered the figures correctly.
"What a jack you are!" and Tommy
hopped up to get the chalk for himself,
but nearly tumbled down again, for there actually were four bright quarters in a row, wit=
h a
bit of paper on them directed to
"Tom Bangs," that there might be no mistake.
"Thunder turtles!" cried Tommy, =
and
seizing them he dashed into t=
he
house, bawling wildly, "It's all right! Got my money! Where's Nat?"
He was soon found, and his surprise and
pleasure were so genuine that=
few
doubted his word when he now denied all knowledge of the money.
"How could I put it back when I didn't
take it? Do believe me now, a=
nd be
good to me again," he said, so imploringly, that Emil slapped him on the back, and decla=
red he
would for one.
"So will I, and I'm jolly glad it's n=
ot
you. But who the dickens is i=
t?"
said Tommy, after shaking hands heartily with Nat.
"Never mind, as long as it's found,&q=
uot;
said Dan with his eyes fixed on Nat's
happy face.
"Well, I like that! I'm not going to =
have
my things hooked, and then br=
ought
back like the juggling man's tricks," cried Tommy, looking at his money as if he susp=
ected
witchcraft.
"We'll find him out somehow, though he
was sly enough to print this =
so his
writing wouldn't be known," said Franz, examining the paper.
"Demi prints tip-top," put in Ro=
b,
who had not a very clear idea what
the fuss was all about.
"You can't make me believe it's him, =
not
if you talk till you are blue=
,"
said Tommy, and the others hooted at the mere idea; for the little deacon, as they called him,=
was
above suspicion.
Nat felt the difference in the way they sp=
oke
of Demi and himself, and woul=
d have
given all he had or ever hoped to have to be so trusted; for he had learned how ea=
sy it
is to lose the confidence of =
others,
how very, very hard to win it back, and truth became to him a precious thing since he had suff=
ered
from neglecting it.
Mr. Bhaer was very glad one step had been
taken in the right direction,=
and
waited hopefully for yet further revelations. They came sooner than he expected, and =
in a
way that surprised and grieve=
d him
very much. As they sat at supper that night, a square parcel was handed to Mrs. Bhaer fr=
om
Mrs. Bates, a neighbor. A note
accompanied the parcel, and, while Mr. Bhaer read it, Demi pulled off the wrapper, exclaiming=
, as
he saw its contents,
"Why, it's the book Uncle Teddy gave
Dan!"
"The devil!" broke from Dan, for=
he
had not yet quite cured himse=
lf of
swearing, though he tried very hard.
Mr. Bhaer looked up quickly at the sound. =
Dan
tried to meet his eyes, but c=
ould
not; his own fell, and he sat biting his lips, getting redder and redder till he was the
picture of shame.
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Bhaer,
anxiously.
"I should have preferred to talk about
this in private, but Demi has spoilt
that plan, so I may as well have it out now," said Mr. Bhaer, looking a little stern, as he alwa=
ys did
when any meanness or deceit c=
ame up
for judgment.
"The note is from Mrs. Bates, and she
says that her boy Jimmy told =
her he
bought this book of Dan last Saturday. She saw that it was worth much more than a dollar, and
thinking there was some mista=
ke,
has sent it to me. Did you sell it, Dan?"
"Yes, sir," was the slow answer.=
"Why?"
"Wanted money."
"For what?"
"To pay somebody."
"To whom did you owe it?"
"Tommy."
"Never borrowed a cent of me in his
life," cried Tommy, looked scared,
for he guessed what was coming now, and felt that on the whole he would have preferred
witchcraft, for he admired Dan immensely.
"Perhaps he took it," cried Ned,=
who
owed Dan a grudge for the duc=
king,
and, being a mortal boy, liked to pay it off.
"O Dan!" cried Nat, clasping his
hands, regardless of the bread and <=
/span>butter
in them.
"It is a hard thing to do, but I must
have this settled, for I cannot have
you watching each other like detectives, and the whole school disturbed in this way. did you put=
that
dollar in the barn this morni=
ng?"
asked Mr. Bhaer.
Dan looked him straight in the face, and
answered steadily, "Yes, I did."
A murmur went round the table, Tommy dropp=
ed
his mug with a crash; Daisy c=
ried
out, "I knew it wasn't Nat;" Nan began to cry, and Mrs. Jo left the room, looking=
so
disappointed, sorry, and asha=
med
that Dan could not bear it. He hid his face in his hands a moment, then threw up his head, sq=
uared
his shoulders as if settling =
some
load upon them, and said, with the dogged look, and half-resolute, half-reckless tone =
he had
used when he first came
"I did it; now you may do what you li=
ke
to me, but I won't say anothe=
r word
about it."
"Not even that you are sorry?" a=
sked
Mr. Bhaer, troubled by the ch=
ange
in him.
"I ain't sorry."
"I'll forgive him without asking,&quo=
t;
said Tommy, feeling that it was harder
somehow to see brave Dan disgraced than timid Nat.
"Don't want to be forgiven,"
returned Dan, gruffly. =
"Perhaps you will when you have thoug=
ht
about it quietly by yourself,=
I
won't tell you now how surprised and disappointed I am, but by and by I will come up and t=
alk to
you in your room."
"Won't make any difference," said
Dan, trying to speak defiantly, but
failing as he looked at Mr. Bhaer's sorrowful face; and, taking his words for a dismissal, Dan lef=
t the
room as if he found it imposs=
ible
to stay.
It would have done him good if he had stay=
ed;
for the boys talked the matte=
r over
with such sincere regret, and pity, and wonder, it might have touched and won him to =
ask
pardon. No one was glad to fi=
nd
that it was he, not even Nat; for, spite of all his faults, and they were many, every one liked Da=
n now,
because under his rough exter=
ior
lay some of the manly virtues which we most admire and love. Mrs. Jo had been =
the
chief prop, as well as cultiv=
ator,
of Dan; and she took it sadly to heart that her last and most interesting boy had turned ou=
t so
ill. The theft was bad, but t=
he
lying about it, and allowing another to suffer so much from an unjust suspicion was worse; and mo=
st
discouraging of all was the a=
ttempt
to restore the money in an underhand way, for it showed not only a want of courage, but a =
power
of deceit that boded ill for =
the
future. Still more trying was his steady refusal to talk of the matter, to ask pardon, or express =
any
remorse. Days passed; and he =
went
about his lessons and his work, silent, grim, and unrepentant. As if taking warning by their trea=
tment
of Nat, he asked no sympathy =
of any
one, rejected the advances of the boys, and spent his leisure hours roaming about the
fields and woods, trying to find playmates
in the birds and beasts, and succeeding better than most boys would have done, because he k=
new
and loved them so well.
"If this goes on much longer, I'm afr=
aid
he will run away again, for h=
e is
too young to stand a life like this," said Mr. Bhaer, quite dejected at the failure of all his
efforts.
"A little while ago I should have been
quite sure that nothing would=
tempt
him away, but now I am ready of any thing, he is so changed," answered poor Mrs. =
Jo, who
mourned over her boy and coul=
d not
be comforted, because he shunned her more than any one else, and only looked at her w=
ith
the half-fierce, half-implori=
ng
eyes of a wild animal caught in a trap, when she tried to talk to him alone.
Nat followed him about like a shadow, and =
Dan
did not repulse him as rudely=
as he
did others, but said, in his blunt way, "You are all right; don't worry about me. I=
can
stand it better than you did."
"But I don't like to have you all
alone," Nat would say, sorrowfully.
"I like it;" and Dan would tramp
away, stifling a sigh sometimes, for
he was lonely.
Passing through the birch grove one day, he
came up on several of the boy=
s, who
were amusing themselves by climbing up the trees and swinging down again, as they s=
lender
elastic stems bent till their=
tops
touched the ground. Dan paused a minute to watch the fun, without offering to join in i=
t, and
as he stood there Jack took h=
is
turn. He had unfortunately chosen too large a tree; for when he swung off, it only bent a little w=
ay,
and left him hanging at a dan=
gerous
height.
"Go back; you can't do it!" call=
ed
Ned from below.
Jack tried, but the twigs slipped from his
hands, and he could not get h=
is
legs round the trunk. He kicked, and squirmed, and clutched in vain, then gave it up,=
and
hung breathless, saying helpl=
essly,
"Catch me! help me! I must drop!"=
;
"You'll be killed if you do," cr=
ied
Ned, frightened out of his wits.
"Hold on!" shouted Dan; and up t=
he
tree he went, crashing his way along
till he nearly reached Jack, whose face looked up at him, full of fear and hope.
"You'll both come down," said Ne=
d,
dancing with excitement on the
slope underneath, while Nat held out his arms, in the wild hope of breaking the fall.
"That's what I want; stand from
under," answered Dan, coolly; and,&nb=
sp;
as he spoke, his added weight bent the tree many feet nearer the earth.
Jack dropped safely; but the birch, lighte=
ned
of half its load, flew up aga=
in so
suddenly, that Dan, in the act of swinging round to drop feet foremost, lost his hold =
and
fell heavily.
"I'm not hurt, all right in a
minute," he said, sitting up, a little pale and dizzy, as the boys gathered ro=
und
him, full of admiration and a=
larm.
"You're a trump, Dan, and I'm ever so
much obliged to you," cried Jack,
gratefully.
"It wasn't any thing," muttered =
Dan,
rising slowly.
"I say it was, and I'll shake hands w=
ith
you, though you are ," Ned checked
the unlucky word on his tongue, and held out his hand, feeling that it was a handsome thi=
ng on
his part.
"But I won't shake hands with a
sneak;" and Dan turned his back
with a look of scorn, that caused Ned to remember the brook, and retire with undignified haste.
"Come home, old chap; I'll give you a
lift;" and Nat walked away with
him leaving the others to talk over the feat together, to wonder when Dan would "come
round," and to wish one and all
that Tommy's "confounded money had been in Jericho before it
When Mr. Bhaer came into school next morni=
ng,
he looked so happy, that the =
boys
wondered what had happened to him, and&nbs=
p;
really thought he had lost his mind when they saw him go straight
"I know all about it, and I beg your
pardon. It was like you to do it, =
span>and
I love you for it, though it's never right to tell lies, even for a friend."
"What is it?" cried Nat, for Dan
said not a word, only lifted up his
head, as if a weight of some sort had fallen off his back.
"Dan did not take Tommy's money;"
and Mr. Bhaer quite shouted i=
t, he
was so glad.
"Who did?" cried the boys in a
chorus.
Mr. Bhaer pointed to one empty seat, and e=
very
eye followed his finger, yet =
no one
spoke for a minute, they were so surprised.
"Jack went home early this morning, b=
ut
he left this behind him;" and
in the silence Mr. Bhaer read the note which he had found tied to his door-handle when he rose. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"I took Tommy's dollar. I was peeking=
in
through a crack and saw him p=
ut it
there. I was afraid to tell before, though I wanted to. I didn't care so much about Nat, but=
Dan
is a trump, and I can't stand it
any longer. I never spent the money; it's under the carpet in my room, right behind the washstand. =
I'm
awful sorry. I am going home,=
and
don't think I shall ever come back, so Dan may have my things.
"JACK"
It was not an elegant confession, being ba=
dly
written, much blotted, and ve=
ry
short; but it was a precious paper to Dan; and, when Mr. Bhaer paused, the boy wen=
t to
him, saying, in a rather brok=
en
voice, but with clear eyes, and the frank, respectful manner they had tried to teach him,
"I'll say I'm sorry now, and ask you =
to
forgive me, sir." =
"It was a kind lie, Dan, and I can't =
help
forgiving it; but you see it =
did no
good," said Mr. Bhaer, with a hand on either shoulder, and a face full of relief and affection.=
"It kept the boys from plaguing Nat.
That's what I did it for. It =
made
him right down miserable. I didn't care so much," explained Dan, as if glad to speak out after=
his
hard silence.
"How could you do it? You are always =
so
kind to me," faltered Na=
t,
feeling a strong desire to hug his friend and cry. Two girlish performances, which would have
scandalized Dan to the last d=
egree.
"It's all right now, old fellow, so d=
on't
be a fool," he said, swa=
llowing
the lump in his throat, and laughing out as he had not done for weeks. "Does Mrs. Bh=
aer
know?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yes; and she is so happy I don't know
what she will do to you," began
Mr. Bhaer, but got no farther, for here the boys came crowding about Dan in a tumult of
pleasure and curiosity; but b=
efore
he had answered more than a dozen questions, a voice cried out,
"Three cheers for Dan!" and there
was Mrs. Jo in the doorway wa=
ving
her dish-towel, and looking as if she wanted to dance a jig for joy, as she used to do when a =
girl.
"Now then," cried Mr. Bhaer, and=
led
off a rousing hurrah, which s=
tartled
Asia in the kitchen, and made old Mr. Roberts shake his head as he drove by, saying,
"Schools are not what they were when I
was young!"
Dan stood it pretty well for a minute, but=
the
sight of Mrs. Jo's delight up=
set
him, and he suddenly bolted across the hall into the parlor, whither she instantly foll=
owed,
and neither were seen for hal=
f an
hour.
Mr. Bhaer found it very difficult to calm =
his
excited flock; and, seeing th=
at
lessons were an impossibility for a time, he caught their attention by telling them the fine=
old
story of the friends whose fi=
delity
to one another has made their names immortal. The lads listened and remembered, for just =
then
their hearts were touched by =
the
loyalty of a humbler pair of friends. The lie was wrong, but the love that prompted it and the
courage that bore in silence the disgrace
which belonged to another, made Dan a hero in their eyes. Honesty and honor had a new meanin=
g now;
a good name was more precious=
than
gold; for once lost money could not buy it=
back; and faith in one another made life smooth and happy as nothing else could do.
Tommy proudly restored the name of the fir=
m;
Nat was devoted to Dan; and a=
ll the
boys tried to atone to both for former suspicion and neglect. Mrs. Jo rejoiced over=
her
flock, and Mr. Bhaer was never
tired of telling the story of his young Damon and Pythias.
The old tree saw and heard a good many lit=
tle
scenes and confidences that s=
ummer,
because it became the favorite retreat of&=
nbsp;
all the children, and the willow seemed to enjoy it, for a pleasant<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> welcome always met them, and the q=
uiet
hours spent in its arms did t=
hem
all good. It had a great deal of company one Saturday afternoon, and some little bird re=
ported
what went on there.
First came Nan and Daisy with their small =
tubs
and bits of soap, for now and=
then
they were seized with a tidy fit, and washed up all their dolls' clothes in the br=
ook.
Asia would not have them &quo=
t;slopping
round" in her kitchen, and the bath-room was forbidden since Nan forgot to turn off the w=
ater
till it overflowed and came g=
ently
dripping down through the ceiling. Daisy went systematically to work, washing fi=
rst
the white and then the colored
things, rinsing them nicely, and hanging them to dry on a cord fastened from one barberry-bu=
sh to
another, and pinning them up =
with a
set of tiny clothes-pins Ned had turned for her. But Nan put all her little things to soak =
in the
same tub, and then forgot them
while she collected thistledown to stuff a pillow for Semiramis, Queen of Babylon, as on=
e doll
was named. This took some tim=
e, and
when Mrs. Giddy-gaddy came to take out her=
clothes, deep green stains appeared on every thing, for she had forgotten the green silk lining of=
a
certain cape, and its color had soaked
nicely into the pink and blue gowns, the little chemises, and even the best ruffled petticoa=
t.
"Oh me! what a mess!" sighed Nan=
.
"Lay them on the grass to bleach,&quo=
t;
said Daisy, with an air of ex=
perience.
"So I will, and we can sit up in the =
nest
and watch that they don't blow
away."
The Queen of Babylon's wardrobe was spread
forth upon the bank, and, tur=
ning
up their tubs to dry, the little washerwomen climbed into the nest, and fell to talking=
, as
ladies are apt to do in the p=
auses
of domestic labor.
"I'm going to have a feather-bed to go
with my new pillow," said Mrs.
Giddy-gaddy, as she transferred the thistledown from her pocket to her handkerchief, losing=
about
half in the process.
"I wouldn't; Aunt Jo says feather-beds
aren't healthy. I never let my children
sleep on any thing but a mattress," returned Mrs. Shakespeare Smith, decidedly.
"I don't care; my children are so str=
ong
they often sleep on the floor=
, and
don't mind it," (which was quite true). "I can't afford nine mattresses, and I like to mak=
e beds
myself."
"Won't Tommy charge for the
feathers?"
"May be he will, but I shan't pay him,
and he won't care," returned =
span>Mrs.
G., taking a base advantage of the well-known good nature of T. Bangs.
"I think the pink will fade out of th=
at
dress sooner than the green m=
ark
will," observed Mrs. S., looking down from her perch, and changing the subject, for she and =
her
gossip differed on many point=
s, and
Mrs. Smith was a discreet lady.
"Never mind; I'm tired of dolls, and I
guess I shall put them all aw=
ay and
attend to my farm; I like it rather better than playing house," said Mrs. G., unconsc=
iously
expressing the desire of many older
ladies, who cannot dispose of their families so easily however.
"But you mustn't leave them; they will
die without their mother," cried
the tender Mrs. Smith. =
"Let 'em die then; I'm tired of fussi=
ng
over babies, and I'm going to play
with the boys; they need me to see to 'em," returned the strong-minded lady.
Daisy knew nothing about women's rights; s=
he
quietly took all she wanted, =
and no
one denied her claim, because she did not&=
nbsp;
undertake what she could not carry out, but unconsciously used the all-powerful right of her own infl=
uence
to win from others any privil=
ege
for which she had proved her fitness. Nan attempted all sorts of things, undaunted by dire=
ful
failures, and clamored fierce=
ly to
be allowed to do every thing that the boys did. They laughed at her, hustled her out of=
the
way, and protested against her
meddling with their affairs. But she would not be quenched and she would be heard, for her wi=
ll was
strong, and she had the spiri=
t of a
rampant reformer. Mrs. Bhaer sympathized with her, but tired to curb her frantic desire f=
or entire
liberty, showing her that she=
must
wait a little, learn self-control, and be ready to use her freedom before she asked for it. N=
an had
meek moments when she agreed =
to
this, and the influences at work upon her were gradually taking effect. She no longer decla=
red
that she would be engine-driv=
er or
a blacksmith, but turned her mind to farming, and found in it a vent for the energy
bottled up in her active little body.
It did not quite satisfy her, however; for her sage and sweet marjoram were dumb things, and cou=
ld not
thank her for her care. She w=
anted
something human to love, work for, and protect, and was never happier than when the li=
ttle
boys brought their cut finger=
s,
bumped heads, or bruised joints for her to "mend-up." Seeing this, Mrs. Jo proposed that=
she
should learn how to do it nic=
ely,
and Nursey had an apt pupil in bandaging, plastering, and fomenting. The boys began to call =
her
"Dr. Giddy-gaddy," and she
liked it so well that Mrs. Jo one day said to the Professor
"Fritz, I see what we can do for that
child. She wants something to live
for even now, and will be one of the sharp, strong, discontented women if she does not=
have
it. Don't let us snub her res=
tless
little nature, but do our best to give her the work she likes, and by and by persuade her father t=
o let
her study medicine. She will =
make a
capital doctor, for she has courage, strong nerves, a tender heart, and an intense love =
and
pity for the weak and sufferi=
ng."
Mr. Bhaer smiled at first, but agreed to t=
ry,
and gave Nan an herb-garden,
teaching her the various healing properties of the plants she tended, and letting her=
try
their virtues on the children in the
little illnesses they had from time to time. She learned fast, remembered well, and showed a sens=
e and
interest most encouraging to =
her
Professor, who did not shut his door in her face because she was a little woman.
She was thinking of this, as she sat in the
willow that day, and when Dai=
sy
said in her gentle way =
"I love to keep house, and mean to ha=
ve a
nice one for Demi when we gro=
w up
and live together."
Nan replied with decision
"Well, I haven't got any brother, and=
I
don't want any house to fuss =
over.
I shall have an office, with lots of bottles and drawers and pestle things in it, and I shall d=
rive
round in a horse and chaise and cure
sick people. That will be such fun."
"Ugh! how can you bear the bad-smelli=
ng
stuff and the nasty little po=
wders
and castor-oil and senna and hive syrup?" cried Daisy, with a shudder.
"I shan't have to take any, so I don't
care. Besides, they make peop=
le
well, and I like to cure folks. Didn't my sage-tea make Mother Bhaer's headache go away, a=
nd my
hops stop Ned's toothache in =
five
hours? So now!"
"Shall you put leeches on people, and=
cut
off legs and pull out teeth?&=
quot;
asked Daisy, quaking at the thought.
"Yes, I shall do every thing; I don't
care if the people are all sm=
ashed
up, I shall mend them. My grandpa was a doctor, and I saw him sew a great cut in a man's
cheek, and I held the sponge, and
wasn't frightened a bit, and Grandpa said I was a brave girl."
"How could you? I'm sorry for sick
people, and I like to nurse t=
hem,
but it makes my legs shake so I have to run away. I'm not a brave girl," sighed Daisy.
"Well, you can be my nurse, and cuddl=
e my
patients when I have given th=
em the
physic and cut off their legs," said Nan, whose practice was evidently to be of the
heroic kind.
"Ship ahoy! Where are you, Nan?"
called a voice from below.
"Here we are."
"Ay, ay!" said the voice, and Em=
il
appeared holding one hand in =
the
other, with his face puckered up as if in pain.
"Oh, what's the matter?" cried
Daisy, anxiously.
"A confounded splinter in my thumb. C=
an't
get it out. Take a pick at it=
, will
you, Nanny?"
"It's in very deep, and I haven't any
needle," said Nan, examining a
tarry thumb with interest.
"Take a pin," said Emil, in a hu=
rry.
"No, it's too big and hasn't got a sh=
arp
point."
Here Daisy, who had dived into her pocket,
presented a neat little house=
wife
with four needles in it.
"You are the Posy who always has what=
we
want," said Emil; and Nan
resolved to have a needle-book in her own pocket henceforth, for just such cases as this were a=
lways
occurring in her practice.
Daisy covered her eyes, but Nan probed and
picked with a steady hand, wh=
ile
Emil gave directions not down in any medical work or record.
"Starboard now! Steady, boys, steady!=
Try
another tack. Heave ho! there=
she
is!"
"Suck it," ordered the Doctor,
surveying the splinter with an experienced
eye.
"Too dirty," responded the patie=
nt,
shaking his bleeding hand.
"Wait; I'll tie it up if you have got=
a
handkerchief."
"Haven't; take one of those rags down
there."
"Gracious! no, indeed; they are doll's
clothes," cried Daisy, i=
ndignantly.
"Take one of mine; I'd like to have
you," said Nan; and swinging =
span>himself
down, Emil caught up the first "rag" he saw. It happened to be the frilled skirt; but Nan t=
ore it
up without a murmur; and when=
the
royal petticoat was turned into a neat little bandage, she dismissed her patient with the com=
mand
"Keep it wet, and let it alone; then =
it
will heal right up, and not be sore."
"What do you charge?" asked the
Commodore, laughing.
"Nothing; I keep a 'spensary; that is=
a
place where poor people are d=
octored
free gratis for nothing," explained Nan, with an air.
"Thank you, Doctor Giddy-gaddy. I'll
always call you in when I com=
e to
grief;" and Emil departed, but looked back to say for one good turn deserves another "Y=
our
duds are blowing away, Doctor."
Forgiving the disrespectful word,
"duds," the ladies hastily
descended, and, gathering up their wash, retired to the house to fir=
e up the little stove, and go to iro=
ning.
A passing breath of air shook the old will=
ow,
as if it laughed softly at the
childish chatter which went on in the nest, and it had hardly composed itself when another pair =
of
birds alighted for a confiden=
tial
twitter.
"Now, I'll tell you the secret,"
began Tommy, who was "swellin'
wisibly" with the importance of his news.
"Tell away," answered Nat, wishi=
ng
he had brought his fiddle, it was
so shady and quiet here.
"Well, we fellows were talking over t=
he
late interesting case of circ=
umstantial
evidence," said Tommy, quoting at random from a speech Franz had made at the club,
"and I proposed giving Dan something
to make up for our suspecting him, to show our respect, and so on, you know something hand=
some
and useful, that he could keep
always and be proud of. What do you think we chose?"
"A butterfly-net; he wants one ever so
much," said Nat, looking a little
disappointed, for he meant to get it himself.
"No, sir; it's to be a microscope, a =
real
swell one, that we see what-d=
o-you-call-'ems
in water with, and stars, and ant-eggs, and all sorts of games, you know. Won'=
t it
be a jolly good present?" said
Tommy, rather confusing microscopes and telescopes in his remarks.
"Tip-top! I'm so glad! Won't it cost a
heap, though?" cried Nat, feeling
that his friend was beginning to be appreciated.
"Of course it will; but we are all go=
ing
to give something. I headed t=
he
paper with my five dollars; for if it is done at all, it must be done handsome."
"What! all of it? I never did see suc=
h a
generous chap as you are;" and
Nat beamed upon him with sincere admiration.
"Well, you see, I've been so bothered
with my property, that I'm ti=
red of
it, and don't mean to save up any more, but give it away as I go along, and then nobody will e=
nvy
me, or want to steal it, and I shan't
be suspecting folks and worrying about my old cash," replied Tommy, on whom the cares a=
nd
anxieties of a millionaire we=
ighed
heavily.
"Will Mr. Bhaer let you do it?" =
"He thought it was a first-rate plan,=
and
said that some of the best me=
n he
knew preferred to do good with their money instead of laying it up to be squabbled over =
when
they died."
"Your father is rich; does he do that
way?"
"I'm not sure; he gives me all I want=
; I
know that much. I'm going to =
talk
to him about it when I go home. Anyhow, I shall set him a good example;" and Tommy was =
so
serious, that Nat did not dare to
laugh, but said, respectfully
"You will be able to do ever so much =
with
your money, won't you?" =
"So Mr. Bhaer said, and he promised to
advise me about useful ways of
spending it. I'm going to begin with Dan; and next time I get a dollar or so, I shall do som=
ething
for Dick, he's such a good li=
ttle
chap, and only has a cent a week for pocket-money. He can't earn much, you know; so I'm going =
to
kind of see to him;" and good-hearted
Tommy quite longed to begin. <=
/span>
"I think that's a beautiful plan, and=
I'm
not going to try to buy a fid=
dle
any more; I'm going to get Dan his net all myself, and if there is any money left, I'll do
something to please poor Billy. He's
fond of me, and though he isn't poor, he'd like some little thing
"So I would. Now come and ask Mr. Bha=
er
if you can't go in town with =
me on
Monday afternoon, so you can get the net, while I get the microscope. Franz and Emil are=
going
too, and we'll have a jolly t=
ime
larking round among the shops."
The lads walked away arm-in-arm, discussing
the new plans with droll
importance, yet beginning already to feel the sweet satisfaction which comes to those =
who
try, no matter how humbly, to=
be
earthly providences to the poor and helpless, and gild their mite with the gold of charity befo=
re it
is laid up where thieves cann=
ot
break through and steal.
"Come up and rest while we sort the
leaves; it's so cool and plea=
sant
here," said Demi, as he and Dan came sauntering home from a long walk in the woods.
"All right!" answered Dan, who w=
as a
boy of few words, and up they=
went.
"What makes birch leaves shake so much
more than the others?" a=
sked
inquiring Demi, who was always sure of an answer from Dan.
"They are hung differently. Don't you=
see
the stem where it joins the l=
eaf is
sort of pinched one way, and where it joins the twig, it is pinched another. This makes it wag=
gle
with the least bit of wind, b=
ut the
elm leaves hang straight, and keep stiller."
"How curious! will this do so?" =
and
Demi held up a sprig of acaci=
a,
which he had broken from a little tree on the lawn, because it was so pretty.
"No; that belongs to the sort that sh=
uts
up when you touch it. Draw yo=
ur finger
down the middle of the stem, and see if the leaves don't curl up," said Dan, who was
examining a bit of mica.
Demi tried it, and presently the little le=
aves
did fold together, till the s=
pray
showed a single instead of a double line of leaves.
"I like that; tell me about the other=
s.
What do these do?" asked Demi,
taking up a new branch.
"Feed silk-worms; they live on mulber=
ry
leaves, till they begin to sp=
in
themselves up. I was in a silk-factory once, and there were rooms full of shelves all covered =
with
leaves, and worms eating them=
so
fast that it made a rustle. Sometimes they eat so much they die. Tell that to Stuffy,&quo=
t; and
Dan laughed, as he took up an=
other
bit of rock with a lichen on it.
"I know one thing about this mullein =
leaf:
the fairies use them for blan=
kets,"
said Demi, who had not quite given up his faith in the existence of the little folk in gr=
een.
"If I had a microscope, I'd show you
something prettier than fairi=
es,"
said Dan, wondering if he should ever own that coveted treasure. "I knew an old woma=
n who
used mullein leaves for a nig=
ht-cap
because she had face-ache. She sewed them together, and wore it all the time."
"How funny! was she your
grandmother?"
"Never had any. She was a queer old
woman, and lived alone in a l=
ittle
tumble-down house with nineteen cats. Folks called her a witch, but she wasn't, though she =
looked
like an old rag-bag. She was =
real
kind to me when I lived in that place, and used to let me get warm at her fire when the folk=
s at
the poorhouse were hard on me=
."
"Did you live in a poorhouse?" <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"A little while. Never mind that I di=
dn't
mean to speak of it;" and Dan
stopped short in his unusual fit of communicativeness.
"Tell about the cats, please," s=
aid
Demi, feeling that he had asked an
unpleasant question, and sorry for it.
"Nothing to tell; only she had a lot =
of
'em, and kept 'em in a barrel nights;
and I used to go and tip over the barrel sometimes, and let 'em out all over the house, and th=
en
she'd scold, and chase 'em and put
'em in again, spitting and yowling like fury."
"Was she good to them?" asked De=
mi,
with a hearty child's laugh, =
pleasant
to hear.
"Guess she was. Poor old soul! she to=
ok
in all the lost and sick cats in
the town; and when anybody wanted one they went to Marm Webber, and she let 'em pick any k=
ind
and color they wanted, and on=
ly
asked ninepence, she was glad to have her pussies get a good home."
"I should like to see Marm Webber. Co=
uld
I, if I went to that place?&q=
uot;
"She's dead. All my folks are," =
said
Dan, briefly.
"I'm sorry;" and Demi sat silent=
a
minute, wondering what subject would
be safe to try next. He felt delicate about speaking of the departed lady, but was very curious
about the cats, and could not resist
asking softly
"Did she cure the sick ones?"
"Sometimes. One had a broken leg, and=
she
tied it up to a stick, and it=
got
well; and another had fits, and she doctored it with yarbs till it was cured. But some of 'em=
died,
and she buried 'em; and when =
they
couldn't get well, she killed 'em easy."
"How?" asked Demi, feeling that
there was a peculiar charm about this
old woman, and some sort of joke about the cats, because Dan was smiling to himself.
"A kind lady, who was fond of cats, t=
old
her how, and gave her some st=
uff,
and sent all her own pussies to be killed that way. Marm used to put a sponge wet with
ether, in the bottom of an old boot,
then poke puss in head downwards. The ether put her to sleep in a jiffy, and she was drow=
ned in
warm water before she woke
up."
"I hope the cats didn't feel it. I sh=
all
tell Daisy about that. You have known
a great many interesting things, haven't you?" asked Demi, and fell to meditating on the vast
experience of a boy who had run away
more than once, and taken care of himself in a big city.
"Wish I hadn't sometimes."
"Why? Don't remembering them feel
good?"
"No."
"It's very singular how hard it is to
manage your mind," said Demi, <=
/span>clasping
his hands round his knees, and looking up at the sky as if for information upon his favorite =
topic.
"Devilish hard no, I don't mean
that;" and Dan bit his lips, for the&=
nbsp;
forbidden word slipped out in spite of him, and he wanted to be more careful with Demi than with a=
ny of
the other boys.
"I'll play I didn't hear it," sa=
id
Demi; "and you won't do it again, I'm=
sure."
"Not if I can help it. That's one of =
the
things I don't want to rememb=
er. I
keep pegging away, but it don't seem to do much good;" and Dan looked discour=
aged.
"Yes, it does. You don't say half so =
many
bad words as you used to; and=
Aunt
Jo is pleased, because she said it was a hard habit to break up."
"Did she?" and Dan cheered up a =
bit.
"You must put swearing away in your
fault-drawer, and lock it up; that's
the way I do with my badness."
"What do you mean?" asked Dan,
looking as if he found Demi a=
lmost
as amusing as a new sort of cockchafer or beetle.
"Well, it's one of my private plays, =
and
I'll tell you, but I think yo=
u'll
laugh at it," began Demi, glad to hold forth on this congenial subject. "I play that my mind=
is a
round room, and my soul is a =
little
sort of creature with wings that lives in it. The walls are full of shelves and drawers, and in the=
m I
keep my thoughts, and my good=
ness
and badness, and all sorts of things. The goods I keep where I can see them, and the bads=
I
lock up tight, but they get out, and
I have to keep putting them in and squeezing them down, they are so strong. The thoughts I play=
with
when I am alone or in bed, an=
d I
make up and do what I like with them. Every Sunday I put my room in order, and talk with the
little spirit that lives there, and
tell him what to do. He is very bad sometimes, and won't mind me,
"I don't think there is a lock strong
enough to keep my badness shu=
t up.
Any way my room is in such a clutter I don't know how to clear it up."
"You keep your drawers in the cabinet=
all
spandy nice; why can't you do=
the
others?"
"I ain't used to it. Will you show me
how?" and Dan looked as if inclined
to try Demi's childish way of keeping a soul in order.
"I'd love to, but I don't know how,
except to talk as Grandpa does. I =
span>can't
do it good like him, but I'll try."
"Don't tell any one; only now and then
we'll come here and talk thin=
gs
over, and I'll pay you for it by telling all I know about my sort of things. Will that do?"=
; and
Dan held out his big, rough hand.
Demi gave his smooth, little hand readily,=
and
the league was made; for in t=
he
happy, peaceful world where the younger boy lived, lions and lambs played toge=
ther,
and little children innocently
taught their elders.
"Hush!" said Dan, pointing toward
the house, as Demi was about =
to
indulge in another discourse on the best way of getting badness down, and keeping it down; and pee=
ping
from their perch, they saw Mr=
s. Jo
strolling slowly along, reading as she went, while Teddy trotted behind her, dragging=
a
little cart upside down.
"Wait till they see us," whisper=
ed
Demi, and both sat still as the pair
came nearer, Mrs. Jo so absorbed in her book that she would have walked into the brook if Tedd=
y had
not stopped her by saying
"Marmar, I wanter fis."
Mrs. Jo put down the charming book which s=
he
had been trying to read for a=
week,
and looked about her for a fishing-pole, being used to making toys out of nothing.
Before she had broken one fro=
m the
hedge, a slender willow bough fell at her feet; and, looking up, she saw the boys laugh=
ing in
the nest.
"Up! up!" cried Teddy, stretching
his arms and flapping his skirts as
if about to fly.
"I'll come down and you come up. I mu=
st
go to Daisy now;" and De=
mi
departed to rehearse the tale of the nineteen cats, with the exciting boot-and-barrel episodes.=
Teddy was speedily whisked up; and then Dan
said, laughing, "Come, t=
oo;
there's plenty of room. I'll lend you a hand."
Mrs. Jo glanced over her shoulder, but no =
one
was in sight; and rather liki=
ng the
joke of the thing, she laughed back, saying, "Well, if you won't mention it, I think I
will;" and with two nimble steps
was in the willow.
"I haven't climbed a tree since I was
married. I used to be very fo=
nd of
it when I was a girl," she said, looking well-pleased with her shady perch.
"Now, you read if you want to, and I'=
ll
take care of Teddy," pro=
posed
Dan, beginning to make a fishing-rod for impatient Baby.
"I don't think I care about it now. W=
hat
were you and Demi at up here?=
"
asked Mrs. Jo, thinking, from the sober look on Dan's face, that he had something on his mind.=
"Oh! we were talking. I'd been telling
him about leaves and things, =
and he
was telling me some of his queer plays. Now, then, Major, fish away;" and Dan finished =
off
his work by putting a big blue fly <=
/span>on
the bent pin which hung at the end of the cord he had tied to the willow-rod.
Teddy leaned down from the tree, and was s=
oon
wrapt up in watching for the =
fish
which he felt sure would come. Dan held him by his little petticoats, lest he =
should
take a "header" into the <=
/span>brook,
and Mrs. Jo soon won him to talk by doing so herself.
"I am so glad you told Demi about 'le=
aves
and things;' it is just what =
he
needs; and I wish you would teach him, and take him to walk with you."
"I'd like to, he is so bright; but &q=
uot;
"But what?"
"I didn't think you'd trust me."=
"Why not?"
"Well, Demi is so kind of precious, a=
nd
so good, and I'm such a bad l=
ot, I
thought you'd keep him away from me."
"But you are not a 'bad lot,' as you =
say;
and I do trust you, Dan, enti=
rely,
because you honestly try to improve, and do better and better every week."
"Really?" and Dan looked up at h=
er
with the cloud of despondency lifting
from his face.
"Yes; don't you feel it?"
"I hoped so, but I didn't know."=
"I have been waiting and watching
quietly, for I thought I'd give you
a good trial first; and if you stood it, I would give you the best reward I had. You have stood it we=
ll;
and now I'm going to trust no=
t only
Demi, but my own boy, to you, because you can teach them some things better than any of
us."
"Can I?" and Dan looked amazed at
the idea.
"Demi has lived among older people so
much that he needs just what =
you
have knowledge of common things, strength, and courage. He thinks you are the bra=
vest
boy he ever saw, and admires =
your
strong way of doing things. Then you know a great deal about natural objects, and ca=
n tell
him more wonderful tales of b=
irds,
and bees, and leaves, and animals, than his story-books give him; and, being true, these s=
tories
will teach and do him good. D=
on't
you see now how much you can help him, and why I like to have him with you?"
"But I swear sometimes, and might tell
him something wrong. I wouldn=
't
mean to, but it might slip out, just as 'devil' did a few minutes ago," said Dan, anxio=
us to
do his duty, and let her know his
shortcomings.
"I know you try not to say or do any =
thing
to harm the little fellow, an=
d here
is where I think Demi will help you, because he is so innocent and wise in his small way=
, and
has what I am trying to give =
you,
dear, good principles. It is never too early to try and plant them in a child, and never too lat=
e to
cultivate them in the most ne=
glected
person. You are only boys yet; you can teach one another. Demi will unconsciously
strengthen your moral sense, you will
strengthen his common sense, and I shall feel as if I had helped you both."
Words could not express how pleased and
touched Dan was by this confi=
dence
and praise. No one had ever trusted him before, no one had cared to find out and foster t=
he
good in him, and no one had s=
uspected
how much there was hidden away in the breast of the neglected boy, going fast to ruin,=
yet
quick to feel and value sympa=
thy
and help. No honor that he might earn hereafter would ever be half so precious as the ri=
ght to
teach his few virtues and sma=
ll
store of learning to the child whom he most respected; and no more powerful restraint could h=
ave
been imposed upon him than the
innocent companion confided to his care. He found courage now to tell Mrs. Jo of the=
plan
already made with Demi, and s=
he was
glad that the first step had been so naturally taken. Every thing seemed to be working w=
ell
for Dan, and she rejoiced ove=
r him,
because it had seemed a hard task, yet, working on with a firm belief in the possibility of
reformation in far older and =
worse
subjects than he, there had come this quick and hopeful change to encourage her. He felt t=
hat he
had friends now and a place i=
n the
world, something to live and work for, and, though he said little, all that was best and
bravest in a character made old by <=
/span>a
hard experience responded to the love and faith bestowed on him, and Dan's salvation was assur=
ed.
Their quiet talk was interrupted by a shou=
t of
delight from Teddy, who, to t=
he
surprise of every one, did actually catch a trout where no trout had been seen for years. =
He was
so enchanted with his splendid
success that he insisted on showing his prize to the family before Asia cooked it for supper; =
so the
three descended and went happ=
ily
away together, all satisfied with the work of that half hour.
Ned was the next visitor to the tree, but =
he
only made a short stay, sitti=
ng
there at his ease while Dick and Dolly caught a pailful of grasshoppers and crickets for him.=
He
wanted to play a joke on Tomm=
y, and
intended to tuck up a few dozen of the lively creatures in his bed, so that when=
Bangs
got in he would speedily tumb=
le out
again, and pass a portion of the night in chasing "hopper-grasses" round t=
he
room. The hunt was soon over, and =
span>having
paid the hunters with a few peppermints apiece Ned retired to make Tommy's bed.
For an hour the old willow sighed and sung=
to
itself, talked with the brook=
, and
watched the lengthening shadows as the sun went down. The first rosy color was tou=
ching
its graceful branches when a =
boy
came stealing up the avenue, across the lawn, and, spying Billy by the brook-side, went to h=
im,
saying, in a mysterious tone,
"Go and tell Mr. Bhaer I want to see =
him
down here, please. Don't let =
any
one hear."
Billy nodded and ran off, while the boy sw=
ung
himself up into the tree, and=
sat
there looking anxious, yet evidently feeling the charm of the place and hour. In five min=
utes,
Mr. Bhaer appeared, and, step=
ping
up on the fence, leaned into the nest, saying, kindly,
"I am glad to see you, Jack; but why =
not
come in and meet us all at on=
ce?"
"I wanted to see you first, please, s=
ir.
Uncle made me come back. I kn=
ow I
don't deserve any thing, but I hope the fellows won't be hard upon me."
Poor Jack did not get on very well, but it=
was
evident that he was sorry and
ashamed, and wanted to be received as easily as possible; for his Uncle had thrash=
ed him
well and scolded him soundly =
for
following the example he himself set. Jack had begged not to be sent back, but the schoo=
l was
cheap, and Mr. Ford insisted,=
so
the boy returned as quietly as possible, and took refuge behind Mr. Bhaer.
"I hope not, but I can't answer for t=
hem,
though I will see that they a=
re not
unjust. I think, as Dan and Nat have suffered so much, being innocent, you should suffer
something, being guilty. Don't you?"
asked Mr. Bhaer, pitying Jack, yet feeling he deserved punishment for a fault which had so
little excuse.
"I suppose so, but I sent Tommy's mon=
ey
back, and I said I was sorry,=
isn't
that enough?" said Jack, rather sullenly; for the boy who could do so mean a thing was not b=
rave
enough to bear the consequenc=
es
well.
"No; I think you should ask pardon of=
all
three boys, openly and honest=
ly.
You cannot expect them to respect and trust you for a time, but you can live down this
disgrace if you try, and I will help
you. Stealing and lying are detestable sins, and I hope this will be=
a lesson to you. I am glad you are
ashamed, it is a good sign; bear it
patiently, and do your best to earn a better reputation."
"I'll have an auction, and sell off a=
ll
my goods dirt cheap," said Jack,
showing his repentance in the most characteristic way.
"I think it would be better to give t=
hem
away, and begin on a new foun=
dation.
Take 'Honesty is the best policy' for your motto, and live up to it in act, and word, and
thought, and though you don't make
a cent of money this summer, you will be a rich boy in the autumn," said Mr. Bhaer, earn=
estly.
It was hard, but Jack consented, for he re=
ally
felt that cheating didn't pay=
, and
wanted to win back the friendship of the boys. His heart clung to his possessions, an=
d he
groaned inwardly at the thoug=
ht of
actually giving away certain precious things. Asking pardon publicly was easy compared =
to
this; but then he began to di=
scover
that certain other things, invisible, but most valuable, were better property than knives,
fish-hooks, or even money itself. =
span>So
he decided to buy up a little integrity, even at a high price, and secure the respect of his playmate=
s,
though it was not a salable a=
rticle.
"Well, I'll do it," he said, wit=
h a
sudden air of resolution, which pleased
Mr. Bhaer.
"Good! and I'll stand by you. Now come
and begin at once."
And Father Bhaer led the bankrupt boy back
into the little world, which
received him coldly at first, but slowly warmed to him, when he showed that he had profite=
d by
the lesson, and was sincerely
anxious to go into a better business with a new stock-in-trade.
CHAPTER XVI TAMING THE COLT<=
/a>
"What in the world is that boy
doing?" said Mrs. Jo to herself, as&n=
bsp;
she watched Dan running round the half-mile triangle as if for a wager. He was all alone, and seemed
possessed by some strange des=
ire to
run himself into a fever, or break his neck; for, after several rounds, he tried leaping w=
alls,
and turning somersaults up the
avenue, and finally dropped down on the grass before the door as if exhausted.
"Are you training for a race, Dan?&qu=
ot;
asked Mrs. Jo, from the window
where she sat.
He looked up quickly, and stopped panting =
to
answer, with a laugh,
"No; I'm only working off my steam.&q=
uot;
"Can't you find a cooler way of doing=
it?
You will be ill if you tear a=
bout
so in such warm weather," said Mrs. Jo, laughing also, as she threw him out a great palm-leaf fa=
n.
"Can't help it. I must run
somewhere," answered Dan, with such an odd expression in his restless eye=
s,
that Mrs. Jo was troubled, and asked,
quickly,
"Is Plumfield getting too narrow for
you?"
"I wouldn't mind if it was a little
bigger. I like it though; only the <=
/span>fact
is the devil gets into me sometimes, and then I do want to bolt."
The words seemed to come against his will,=
for
he looked sorry the minute th=
ey
were spoken, and seemed to think he deserved a reproof for his ingratitude. But M=
rs. Jo
understood the feeling, and t=
hough
sorry to see it, she could not blame the boy for confessing it. She looked at him anxiously, s=
eeing
how tall and strong he had gr=
own,
how full of energy his face was, with its eager eyes and resolute mouth; and remembering the
utter freedom he had known for
years before, she felt how even the gentle restraint of this home would weigh upon him at times when=
the
old lawless spirit stirred in=
him.
"Yes," she said to herself, "my wild hawk needs a larger cage; and yet, if I let him go, I =
am
afraid he will be lost. I must try <=
/span>and
find some lure strong enough to keep him safe."
"I know all about it," she added,
aloud. "It is not 'the devil,' as you=
call it, but the very natural desire of all young people for liberty=
. I used to feel just so, and once, I =
really
did think for a minute that I would
bolt."
"Why didn't you?" said Dan, comi=
ng
to lean on the low window-led=
ge,
with an evident desire to continue the subject.
"I knew it was foolish, and love for =
my
mother kept me at home."
"I haven't got any mother," began
Dan.
"I thought you had now," said Mr= s. Jo, gently stroking the rough hair off his hot forehead. <= o:p>
"You are no end good to me, and I can=
't
ever thank you enough, but it=
just
isn't the same, is it?" and Dan looked up at her with a wistful, hungry look that went to =
her
heart.
"No, dear, it is not the same, and ne=
ver
can be. I think an own mother=
would
have been a great deal to you. But as that cannot be, you must try to let me fill her pl=
ace. I
fear I have not done all I ou=
ght,
or you would not want to leave me," she added, sorrowfully.
"Yes, you have!" cried Dan, eage=
rly.
"I don't want to go, and I won't
go, if I can help it; but every now and then I feel as if I must burst out somehow. I want to run
straight ahead somewhere, to =
smash
something, or pitch into somebody. Don't know why, but I do, and that's all about it."=
Dan laughed as he spoke, but he meant what=
he
said, for he knit his black b=
rows,
and brought down his fist on the ledge with such force, that Mrs. Jo's thimble flew=
off
into the grass. He brought it back,
and as she took it she held the big, brown hand a minute, saying, with a look that showed the
words cost her something
"Well, Dan, run if you must, but don't
run very far; and come back t=
o me
soon, for I want you very much."
He was rather taken aback by this unexpect=
ed
permission to play truant, and
somehow it seemed to lessen his desire to go. He did not understand why, but Mrs. Jo di=
d,
and, knowing the natural perv=
ersity
of the human mind, counted on it to help her now. She felt instinctively that the more t=
he boy
was restrained the more he wo=
uld
fret against it; but leave him free, and the mere sense of liberty would content him, joined =
to the
knowledge that his presence w=
as
dear to those whom he loved best. It was a little experiment, but it succeeded, for =
Dan
stood silent a moment, uncons=
ciously
picking the fan to pieces and turning the matter over in his mind. He felt that she appe=
aled
to his heart and his honor, a=
nd
owned that he understood it by saying presently, with a mixture of regret and resolution i=
n his
face,
"I won't go yet awhile, and I'll give= you fair warning before I bolt. T= hat's fair, isn't it?" <= o:p>
"Yes, we will let it stand so. Now, I
want to see if I can't find some way
for you to work off your steam better than running about the place like a mad dog, spoiling my =
fans,
or fighting with the boys. Wh=
at can
we invent?" and while Dan tried to repair the mischief he had done, Mrs. Jo racked her br=
ain
for some new device to keep h=
er
truant safe until he had learned to love his lessons better.
"How would you like to be my
express-man?" she said, as a sudden&n=
bsp;
thought popped into her head.
"Go into town, and do the errands?&qu=
ot;
asked Dan, looking interested at
once.
"Yes; Franz is tired of it, Silas can=
not
be spared just now, and Mr. B=
haer
has no time. Old Andy is a safe horse, you are a good driver, and know your way about the city a=
s well
as a postman. Suppose you try=
it,
and see if it won't do most as well to drive away two or three times a week as to run away =
once a
month."
"I'd like it ever so much, only I mus=
t go
alone and do it all myself. I=
don't
want any of the other fellows bothering round," said Dan, taking to the new idea so kindly t=
hat he
began to put on business airs
already.
"If Mr. Bhaer does not object you sha=
ll
have it all your own way. I s=
uppose
Emil will growl, but he cannot be trusted with horses, and you can. By the way, to-morrow is
market-day, and I must make o=
ut my
list. You had better see that the wagon is in order, and tell Silas to have the fruit and vegeta=
bles
ready for mother. You will ha=
ve to
be up early and get back in time for school, can you do that?"
"I'm always an early bird, so I don't
mind," and Dan slung on his jacket
with despatch.
"The early bird got the worm this tim=
e,
I'm sure," said Mrs. Jo, merrily.
"And a jolly good worm it is,"
answered Dan, as he went laughing =
span>away
to put a new lash to the whip, wash the wagon, and order Silas about with all the importanc=
e of a
young express-man.
"Before he is tired of this I will fi=
nd
something else and have it re=
ady
when the next restless fit comes on," said Mrs. Jo to herself, as she wrote her list with a deep =
sense
of gratitude that all her boys were
not Dans.
Mr. Bhaer did not entirely approve of the =
new
plan, but agreed to give it a
trial, which put Dan on his mettle, and caused him to give up certain wild plans of his own, =
in
which the new lash and the lo=
ng
hill were to have borne a part. He was up and away very early the next morning, heroically resis=
ting
the temptation to race with t=
he
milkmen going into town. Once there, he did his errands carefully, to Mr. Bhaer's surprise=
and
Mrs. Jo's great satisfaction. The
Commodore did growl at Dan's promotion, but was pacified by a superior padlock to his new
boat-house, and the thought that seamen
were meant for higher honors than driving market-wagons and doing family errands. So Dan f=
illed
his new office well and conte=
ntedly
for weeks, and said no more about bolting. But one day Mr. Bhaer found him pummelling=
Jack,
who was roaring for mercy und=
er his
knee.
"Why, Dan, I thought you had given up
fighting," he said, as he went
to the rescue.
"We ain't fighting, we are only
wrestling," answered Dan, leaving&nbs=
p;
off reluctantly.
"It looks very much like it, and feels
like it, hey, Jack?" said Mr. <=
/span>Bhaer,
as the defeated gentleman got upon his legs with difficulty.
"Catch me wrestling with him again. H=
e's
most knocked my head off,&quo=
t;
snarled Jack, holding on to that portion of his frame as if it really was loose upon his shoulder=
s.
"The fact is, we began in fun, but wh=
en I
got him down I couldn't help
pounding him. Sorry I hurt you, old fellow," explained Dan, looking rather ashamed of himself.=
"I understand. The longing to pitch i=
nto
somebody was so strong you co=
uldn't
resist. You are a sort of Berserker, Dan, and something to tussle with is as nec=
essary
to you as music is to Nat," said
Mr. Bhaer, who knew all about the conversation between the boy and Mrs. Jo.
"Can't help it. So if you don't want =
to
be pounded you'd better keep =
out of
the way," answered Dan, with a warning look in his black eyes that made Jack sheer off in h=
aste.
"If you want something to wrestle wit=
h, I
will give you a tougher speci=
men
than Jack," said Mr. Bhaer; and, leading the way to the wood-yard, he pointed out certain =
roots
of trees that had been grubbe=
d up
in the spring, and had been lying there waiting to be split.
"There, when you feel inclined to
maltreat the boys, just come and work
off your energies here, and I'll thank you for it."
"So I will;" and, seizing the axe
that lay near Dan hauled out a tough
root, and went at it so vigorously, that the chips flew far and wide, and Mr. Bhaer fled for his l=
ife.
To his great amusement, Dan took him at his
word, and was often seen wres=
tling
with the ungainly knots, hat and jacket off, red face, and wrathful eyes; for he got into=
royal
rages over some of his advers=
aries,
and swore at them under his breath till he had conquered them, when he exulted, a=
nd
marched off to the shed with =
an
armful of gnarled oak-wood in triumph. He blistered his hands, tired his back, and dulled =
the
axe, but it did him good, and he
got more comfort out of the ugly roots than any one dreamed, for with each blow he worked off s=
ome of
the pent-up power that would
otherwise have been expended in some less harmless way.
"When this is gone I really don't know
what I shall do," said Mrs. Jo
to herself, for no inspiration came, and she was at the end of her resources.
But Dan found a new occupation for himself,
and enjoyed it some time befo=
re any
one discovered the cause of his contentment. A fine young horse of Mr. Laurie's w=
as
kept at Plumfield that summer,
running loose in a large pasture across the brook. The boys were all interested in the
handsome, spirited creature, and for
a time were fond of watching him gallop and frisk with his plumey
"We understand one another without any
palaver, don't we, old fellow=
?"
Dan would say, proud of the horse's confidence, and, so jealous of his regard, that he tol=
d no
one how well the friendship p=
rospered,
and never asked anybody but Teddy to accompany him on these daily visits.
Mr. Laurie came now and then to see how
Charlie got on, and spoke of =
having
him broken to harness in the autumn.
"He won't need much taming, he is suc=
h a
gentle, fine-tempered brute. I
shall come out and try him with a saddle myself some day," he said, on one of these
visits.
"He lets me put a halter on him, but I
don't believe he will bear a =
saddle
even if you put it on," answered Dan, who never failed to be present when Charlie and his maste=
r met.
"I shall coax him to bear it, and not
mind a few tumbles at first. He has
never been harshly treated, so, though he will be surprised at the new performance, I think he wo=
n't be
frightened, and his antics wi=
ll do
no harm."
"I wonder what he would do," said
Dan to himself, as Mr. Laurie went
away with the Professor, and Charlie returned to the bars, from which he had retired when the
gentlemen came up.
A daring fancy to try the experiment took
possession of the boy as he s=
at on
the topmost rail with the glossy back temptingly near him. Never thinking of danger, he =
obeyed
the impulse, and while Charlie
unsuspectingly nibbled at the apple he held, Dan quickly and quietly took his seat. He did =
not
keep it long, however, for wi=
th an
astonished snort, Charlie reared straight up, and deposited Dan on the ground. The fall did no=
t hurt
him, for the turf was soft, a=
nd he
jumped up, saying, with a laugh,
"I did it anyway! Come here, you rasc=
al,
and I'll try it again." <=
/span>
But Charlie declined to approach, and Dan =
left
him resolving to succeed in t=
he
end; for a struggle like this suited him exactly. Next time he took a halter, and having =
got it
on, he played with the horse =
for a
while, leading him to and fro, and putting him through various antics till he was a little
tired; then Dan sat on the wall and
gave him bread, but watched his chance, and getting a good grip of the halter, slipped on to his back.
Charlie tried the old trick, but Dan
held on, having had practice with Toby, who occasionally had an obstinate fit, and tried to sha=
ke off
his rider. Charlie was both a=
mazed
and indignant; and after prancing for a minute, set off at a gallop, and away went Dan heels ov=
er
head. If he had not belonged =
to the
class of boys who go through all sorts of dangers unscathed, he would have broken his neck; as =
it
was, he got a heavy fall, and lay
still collecting his wits, while Charlie tore round the field tossing his head with every sign of
satisfaction at the discomfiture of
his rider. Presently it seemed to occur to him that something was wrong with Dan, and, being of a
magnanimous nature, he went t=
o see
what the matter was. Dan let him sniff about and perplex himself for a few minutes;=
then
he looked up at him, saying, =
as
decidedly as if the horse could understand,
"You think you have beaten, but you a=
re
mistaken, old boy; and I'll r=
ide
you yet see if I don't."
He tried no more that day, but soon after
attempted a new method of
introducing Charlie to a burden. He strapped a folded blanket on his back, and then let him race, a=
nd
rear, and roll, and fume as m=
uch as
he liked. After a few fits of rebellion Charlie submitted, and in a few days permitted Dan to=
mount
him, often stopped short to l=
ook
round, as if he said, half patiently, half reproachfully, "I don't understand it, but I suppose=
you
mean no harm, so I permit the
liberty."
Dan patted and praised him, and took a sho=
rt
turn every day, getting frequ=
ent
falls, but persisting in spite of them, and longing to try a saddle and bridle, but not
daring to confess what he had done.
He had his wish, however, for there had been a witness of his pranks who said a good word fo=
r him.
"Do you know what that chap has ben d=
oin'
lately?" asked Silas of =
his
master, one evening, as he received his orders for the next day.
"Which boy?" said Mr. Bhaer, wit=
h an
air of resignation, expecting some
sad revelation.
"Dan, he's ben a breaking the colt, s=
ir,
and I wish I may die if he ai=
n't
done it," answered Silas, chuckling.
"How do you know?"
"Wal, I kinder keep an eye on the lit=
tle
fellers, and most gen'lly kno=
w what
they're up to; so when Dan kep going off to the paster, and coming home black and blue, I
mistrusted that suthing was g=
oin'
on. I didn't say nothin', but I crep up into the barn chamber, and from there I see him goin' thr=
ough
all manner of games with Char=
lie.
Blest if he warn't throwed time and agin, and knocked round like a bag o' meal. But the =
pluck
of that boy did beat all, and he
'peared to like it, and kep on as ef bound to beat."
"But, Silas, you should have stopped =
it
the boy might have been kille=
d,"
said Mr. Bhaer, wondering what freak his irrepressibles would take into their heads next. =
"S'pose I oughter; but there warn't no
real danger, for Charlie ain't no
tricks, and is as pretty a tempered horse as ever I see. Fact was, I couldn't bear to spile sport, fo=
r ef
there's any thing I do admire it's <=
/span>grit,
and Dan is chock full on 't. But now I know he's hankerin' after a saddle, and yet won't take=
even
the old one on the sly; so I =
just
thought I'd up and tell, and may be you'd let him try what he can do. Mr. Laurie won't mind, and
Charlie's all the better for 't."
"We shall see;" and off went Mr.
Bhaer to inquire into the matter.
Dan owned up at once, and proudly proved t=
hat
Silas was right by showing of=
f his
power over Charlie; for by dint of much coaxing, many carrots, and infinite perseve=
rance,
he really had succeeded in ri=
ding
the colt with a halter and blanket. Mr. Laurie was much amused, and well pleased with Dan's
courage and skill, and let him have
a hand in all future performances; for he set about Charlie's education at once, saying that he =
was
not going to be outdone by a =
slip
of a boy. Thanks to Dan, Charlie took kindly to the saddle and bridle when he had once reconciled
himself to the indignity of the bit;
and after Mr. Laurie had trained him a little, Dan was permitted to ride him, to the grea=
t envy
and admiration of the other b=
oys.
"Isn't he handsome? and don't he mind=
me
like a lamb?" said Dan o=
ne day
as he dismounted and stood with his arm round Charlie's neck.
"Yes, and isn't he a much more useful=
and
agreeable animal than the wil=
d colt
who spent his days racing about the field, jumping fences, and running away now and
then?" asked Mrs. Bhaer from =
span>the
steps where she always appeared when Dan performed with Charlie.
"Of course he is. See he won't run aw=
ay
now, even if I don't hold him=
, and
he comes to me the minute I whistle; I have tamed him well, haven't I?" and Dan loo=
ked both
proud and pleased, as well he
might, for, in spite of their struggles together, Charlie loved him better than his master.
"I am taming a colt too, and I think I
shall succeed as well as you if I
am as patient and persevering," said Mrs. Jo, smiling so significantly at him, that Dan
understood and answered, laughing, <=
/span>yet
in earnest,
"We won't jump over the fence and run
away, but stay and let them m=
ake a
handsome, useful span of us, hey, Charlie?"
"Hurry up, boys, it's three o'clock, =
and
Uncle Fritz likes us to be pu=
nctual,
you know," said Franz one Wednesday afternoon as a bell rang, and a stream of
literary-looking young gentlemen with
books and paper in their hands were seen going toward the museum.
Tommy was in the school-room, bending over=
his
desk, much bedaubed with ink,
flushed with the ardor of inspiration, and in a great hurry as usual, for easy-goi=
ng
Bangs never was ready till the very
last minute. As Franz passed the door looking up laggards, Tommy gave one last blot and flour=
ish,
and departed out the window, =
waving
his paper to dry as he went. Nan followed,=
looking very important, with a large roll in her hand, and Demi escorted Daisy, both evidently bri=
mful
of some delightful secret.
The museum was all in order, and the sunsh=
ine
among the hop-vines made pret=
ty
shadows on the floor as it peeped through&=
nbsp;
the great window. On one side sat Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer, on the other was a little table on which =
the
compositions were laid as soo=
n as
read, and in a large semicircle sat the children on camp-stools which occasionally shu=
t up
and let the sitter down, thus
preventing any stiffness in the assembly. As it took too much time to have all read, they took t=
urns,
and on this Wednesday the you=
nger
pupils were the chief performers, while the elder ones listened with condescension and
criticised freely.
"Ladies first; so Nan may begin,"
said Mr. Bhaer, when the settling =
span>of
stools and rustling of papers had subsided.
Nan took her place beside the little table,
and, with a preliminary giggl=
e,
read the following interesting essay on
"THE SPONGE
"The sponge, my friends, is a most us=
eful
and interesting plant. It gro=
ws on
rocks under the water, and is a kind of sea-weed, I believe. People go and pick it and=
dry
it and wash it, because little fish
and insects live in the holes of the sponge; I found shells in my new one, and sand. Some are very f=
ine
and soft; babies are washed w=
ith
them. The sponge has many uses. I will relate some of them, and I hope my friends will remembe=
r what
I say. One use is to wash the=
face;
I don't like it myself, but I do it because I wish to be clean. Some people don't, and they=
are
dirty." Here the eye of the reader
rested sternly upon Dick and Dolly, who quailed under it, and instantly resolved to scrub
themselves virtuously on all =
occasions.
"Another use is to wake people up; I allude to boys par-tic -u-lar-ly." Another p=
ause
after the long word to enjoy the smothered
laugh that went round the room. "Some boys do not get up when called, and Mary Ann squee=
zes
the water out of a wet sponge=
on
their faces, and it makes them so mad they wake up." Here the laugh broke out, and Emil=
said,
as if he had been hit, =
"Seems to me you are wandering from t=
he
subject."
"No, I ain't; we are to write about
vegetables or animals, and I'm doing
both: for boys are animals, aren't they?" cried Nan; and, undaunted by the indignant
"No!" shouted at her, she calmly=
proceeded,
"One more interesting thing is done w=
ith
sponges, and this is when doc=
tors
put ether on it, and hold it to people's noses when they have teeth out. I shall do this wh=
en I
am bigger, and give ether to =
the
sick, so they will go to sleep and not feel me cut off their legs and arms."
"I know somebody who killed cats with
it," called out Demi, but was
promptly crushed by Dan, who upset his camp-stool and put a hat over his face.
"I will not be interruckted," sa=
id
Nan, frowning upon the unseemly scrimmagers.
Order was instantly restored, and the young lady closed her remarks as follows:
"My composition has three morals, my
friends." Somebody groan=
ed,
but no notice was taken of the insult. "First, is keep your faces clean second, get up early t=
hird,
when the ether sponge is put =
over
your nose, breathe hard and don't kick, and your teeth will come out easy. I have no more to
say." And Miss Nan sat down amid
tumultuous applause.
"That is a very remarkable compositio=
n;
its tone is high, and there i=
s a good
deal of humor in it. Very well done, Nan. Now, Daisy," and Mr. Bhaer smiled at one young =
lady
as he beckoned the other.
Daisy colored prettily as she took her pla=
ce,
and said, in her modest little
voice,
"I'm afraid you won't like mine; it i=
sn't
nice and funny like Nan's. Bu=
t I
couldn't do any better."
"We always like yours, Posy," sa=
id
Uncle Fritz, and a gentle mur=
mur
from the boys seemed to confirm the remark. Thus encouraged, Daisy read her little =
paper,
which was listened to with re=
spectful
attention.
"THE CAT
"The cat is a sweet animal. I love th=
em
very much. They are clean and
pretty, and catch rats and mice, and let you pet them, and are fond of you if you are kind. They =
are
very wise, and can find their way
anywhere. Little cats are called kittens, and are dear things. I have two, named Huz and Buz, and t=
heir
mother is Topaz, because she =
has
yellow eyes. Uncle told me a pretty story about a man named Ma-ho-met. He had a nice cat=
, and
when she was asleep on his sl=
eeve,
and he wanted to go away, he cut off the sleeve so as not to wake her up. I think he was=
a
kind man. Some cats catch fis=
h."
"So do I!" cried Teddy, jumping =
up
eager to tell about his trout.
"Hush!" said his mother, setting=
him
down again as quickly as poss=
ible,
for orderly Daisy hated to be "interruckted," as Nan expressed it.
"I read about one who used to do it v=
ery
slyly. I tried to make Topaz,=
but
she did not like the water, and scratched me. She does like tea, and when I play in my ki=
tchen
she pats the teapot with her =
paw,
till I give her some. She is a fine cat, she eats apple-pudding and molasses. Most cats do not.&qu=
ot;
"That's a first-rater," called o=
ut
Nat, and Daisy retired, pleased with
the praise of her friend.
"Demi looks so impatient we must have=
him
up at once or he won't hold
out," said Uncle Fritz, and Demi skipped up with alacrity.
"Mine is a poem!" he announced i=
n a
tone of triumph, and read his first
effort in a loud and solemn voice:
"I write about the butterfly,
It is a pretty thing; <=
/span>
And flies about like the birds,
But it does not sing. <=
/span>
"First it is a little grub,
And then it is a nice yellow cocoon,
And then the butterfly
Eats its way out soon.
"They live on dew and honey,
They do not have any hive,
They do not sting like wasps, and bees, and
hornets,
And to be as good as they are we should strive.
"I should like to be a beautiful
butterfly,
All yellow, and blue, and green, and red;
But I should not like
To have Dan put camphor on my poor little head."
This unusual burst of genius brought down =
the
house, and Demi was obliged t=
o read
it again, a somewhat difficult task, as there was no punctuation whatever, and t=
he
little poet's breath gave out before
he got to the end of some of the long lines.
"He will be a Shakespeare yet," =
said
Aunt Jo, laughing as if she w=
ould
die, for this poetic gem reminded her of one of her own, written at the age of ten, and beg=
inning
gloomily,
"I wish I had a quiet tomb,
Beside a little rill; <=
/span>
Where birds, and bees, and butterflies,
Would sing upon the hill."&nbs=
p;
"Come on, Tommy. If there is as much =
ink
inside your paper as there is
outside, it will be a long composition," said Mr. Bhaer, when Demi had been induced to tear
himself from his poem and sit=
down.
"It isn't a composition, it's a lette=
r.
You see, I forgot all about its being
my turn till after school, and then I didn't know what to have, and there wasn't time to rea=
d up;
so I thought you wouldn't min=
d my
taking a letter that I wrote to my Grandma. It's got something about birds in it, so I
thought it would do."
With this long excuse, Tommy plunged into a
sea of ink and floundered thr=
ough,
pausing now and then to decipher one of his own flourishes.
"MY DEAR GRANDMA, I hope you are well.
Uncle James sent me a pocket =
rifle.
It is a beautiful little instrument of killing, shaped like this [Here Tommy displ=
ayed a
remarkable sketch of what loo=
ked
like an intricate pump, or the inside of a small steam-engine] 44 are the sights; 6=
is a
false stock that fits in at A; 3 is
the trigger, and 2 is the cock. It loads at the breech, and fires with great force and straightness.=
I am
going out shooting squirrels =
soon.
I shot several fine birds for the museum. They had speckled breasts, and Dan liked them very m=
uch.
He stuffed them tip-top, and =
they
sit on the tree quite natural, only one looks a little tipsy. We had a Frenchman working here the
other day, and Asia called hi=
s name
so funnily that I will tell you about it. His name was Germain: first she called him Jerr=
y, but
we laughed at her, and she ch=
anged
it to Jeremiah; but ridicule was the result, so it became Mr. Germany; but ridicule having b=
een again
resumed, it became Garrymon, =
which
it has remained ever since. I do not write often, I am so busy; but I think of you oft=
en,
and sympathize with you, and =
sincerely
hope you get on as well as can be expected without me. Your affectionate grandson,
"THOMAS BUCKMINSTER BANGS.
"P.S. ? If you come across any
postage-stamps, remember me. <=
/span>
"N.B. Love to all, and a great deal to
Aunt Almira. Does she make an=
y nice
plum-cakes now?
"P.S. ? Mrs. Bhaer sends her respects=
.
"P.S. ? And so would Mr. B, if he kne=
w I
was in act to write.
"N.B. Father is going to give me a wa=
tch
on my birthday. I am glad as =
at
present I have no means of telling time, and am often late at school.
"P.S. ? I hope to see you soon. Don't=
you
wish to send for me?
T. B. B."
As each postscript was received with a fre=
sh
laugh from the boys, by the t=
ime he
came to the sixth and last, Tommy was so&n=
bsp;
exhausted that he was glad to sit down and wipe his ruddy face.
"I hope the dear old lady will live
through it," said Mr. Bhaer, =
span>under
cover of the noise.
"We won't take any notice of the broad
hint given in that last P.S. =
The
letter will be quite as much as she can bear without a visit from Tommy," answered Mrs. Jo,
remembering that the old lady usually
took to her bed after a visitation from her irrepressible grandson.
"Now, me," said Teddy, who had
learned a bit of poetry, and was so
eager to say it that he had been bobbing up and down during the reading, and could no longer be
restrained.
"I'm afraid he will forget it if he
waits; and I have had a deal of trouble
teaching him," said his mother.
Teddy trotted to the rostrum, dropped a
curtsey and nodded his head a=
t the
same time, as if anxious to suit every one; then, in his baby voice, and putting the emphas=
is on
the wrong words, he said his =
verse
all in one breath:
"Little drops of water,
Little drains of sand,
Mate a might okum (ocean),
And a peasant land.
"Little words of kindness,
Pokin evvy day, =
Make a home a hebbin,
And hep us on a way." =
span>
Clapping his hands at the end, he made ano=
ther
double salutation, and then r=
an to
hide his head in his mother's lap, quite overcome by the success of his "piece,=
"
for the applause was tremendous.
Dick and Dolly did not write, but were
encouraged to observe the hab=
its of
animals and insects, and report what they saw. Dick liked this, and always had a great deal =
to
say; so, when his name was ca=
lled,
he marched up, and, looking at the audience with his bright confiding eyes, told his little st=
ory so
earnestly that no one smiled =
at his
crooked body, because the "straight soul" shone through it beautifully.
"I've been watching dragonflies, and I
read about them in Dan's book=
, and
I'll try and tell you what I remember. There's lots of them flying round on the pond, all=
blue,
with big eyes, and sort of la=
ce
wings, very pretty. I caught one, and looked at him, and I think he was the handsomest insect=
I
ever saw. They catch littler =
creatures
than they are to eat, and have a queer kind of hook thing that folds up when they ain't hunt=
ing.
It likes the sunshine, and da=
nces
round all day. Let me see! what else was there to tell about? Oh, I know! The eggs are laid in t=
he
water, and go down to the bot=
tom,
and are hatched in the mud. Little ugly things come out of 'em; I can't say the name, but the=
y are
brown, and keep having new sk=
ins,
and getting bigger and bigger. Only think! it takes them two years to be a dragonfly! Now this =
is the
curiousest part of it, so you listen
tight, for I don't believe you know it. When it is ready it knows somehow, and the ugly, grubby
thing climbs up out of the wa=
ter on
a flag or a bulrush, and bursts open its back."
"Come, I don't believe that," sa=
id
Tommy, who was not an observa=
nt
boy, and really thought Dick was "making up."
"It does burst open its back, don't
it?" and Dick appealed to Mr. <=
/span>Bhaer,
who nodded a very decided affirmative, to the little speaker's great satisfaction.
"Well, out comes the dragonfly, all
whole, and he sits in the sun sort
of coming alive, you know; and he gets strong, and then he spreads his pretty wings, and flie=
s away
up in the air, and never is a=
grub
any more. That's all I know; but I shall watch and try to see him do it, for I think it's splend=
id to
turn into a beautiful dragonfly, don't
you?"
Dick had told his story well, and, when he
described the flight of the
new-born insect, had waved his hands, and looked up as if he saw, and wanted to follow it. Some=
thing
in his face suggested to the =
minds
of the elder listeners the thought that some day little Dick would have his wish, and after
years of helplessness and pain would
climb up into the sun some happy day, and, leaving his poor little body behind him, find a new
lovely shape in a fairer world than
this. Mrs. Jo drew him to her side, and said, with a kiss on his thin cheek,
"That is a sweet little story, dear, =
and
you remembered it wonderfully=
well.
I shall write and tell your mother all about it;" and Dick sat on her knee, contente=
dly
smiling at the praise, and re=
solving
to watch well, and catch the dragonfly in the act of leaving its old body for the new, =
and
see how he did it. Dolly had a few
remarks to make upon the "Duck," and made them in a sing-song tone, for he had learned=
it by
heart, and thought it a great plague
to do it at all.
"Wild ducks are hard to kill; men hide
and shoot at them, and have t=
ame
ducks to quack and make the wild ones come where the men can fire at them. They have wooden=
ducks
made too, and they sail round=
, and
the wild ones come to see them; they are stupid, I think. Our ducks are very tame. They eat a
great deal, and go poking rou=
nd in
the mud and water. They don't take good care of their eggs, but them spoil, and " <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Mine don't!" cried Tommy.
"Well, some people's do; Silas said s=
o.
Hens take good care of little
ducks, only they don't like to have them go in the water, and make a great fuss. But the little =
ones
don't care a bit. I like to eat ducks
with stuffing in them and lots of apple-sauce."
"I have something to say about
owls," began Nat, who had carefully
prepared a paper upon this subject with some help from Dan.
"Owls have big heads, round eyes, hoo=
ked
bills, and strong claws. Some=
are
gray, some white, some black and yellowish. Their feathers are very soft, and stick =
out a
great deal. They fly very qui=
etly,
and hunt bats, mice, little birds, and such things. They build nests in barns, hollow trees=
, and
some take the nests of other =
birds.
The great horned owl has two eggs bigger than a hen's and reddish brown. The tawny owl has f=
ive
eggs, white and smooth; and t=
his is
the kind that hoots at night. Another kind sounds like a child crying. They eat mice and ba=
ts
whole, and the parts that they cannot
digest they make into little balls and spit out."
"My gracious! how funny!" Nan was
heard to observe.
"They cannot see by day; and if they =
get
out into the light, they go f=
lapping
round half blind, and the other birds chase and peck at them, as if they were making fun. =
The
horned owl is very big, 'most=
as
big as the eagle. It eats rabbits, rats, snakes, and birds; and lives in rocks and old tumble-down
houses. They have a good many
cries, and scream like a person being choked, and say, 'Waugh O! waugh O!' and it scares =
people
at night in the woods. The wh=
ite
owl lives by the sea, and in cold places, and looks something like a hawk. There is a =
kind
of owl that makes holes to li=
ve in
like moles. It is called the burrowing owl, and is very small. The barn-owl is the commonest kind=
; and
I have watched one sitting in=
a
hole in a tree, looking like a little gray cat, with one eye shut and the other open. He comes =
out at
dusk, and sits round waiting =
for
the bats. I caught one, and here he is."
With that Nat suddenly produced from inside
his jacket a little downy bir=
d, who
blinked and ruffled his feathers, looking very plump and sleepy and scared.
"Don't touch him! He is going to show
off," said Nat, displaying his
new pet with great pride. First he put a cocked hat on the bird's head, and the boys laughed at the =
funny
effect; then he added a pair =
of
paper spectacles, and that gave the owl such a wise look that they shouted with merriment. =
The
performance closed with makin=
g the
bird angry, and seeing him cling to a handkerchief upside down, pecking and
"clucking," as Rob called it. He was allowed to fly after that, and set=
tled
himself on the bunch of pine-=
cones
over the door, where he sat staring down at the company with an air of sleepy dign=
ity
that amused them very much. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Have you anything for us, George?&qu=
ot;
asked Mr. Bhaer, when the roo=
m was
still again.
"Well, I read and learned ever so much
about moles, but I declare I'=
ve
forgotten every bit of it, except that they dig holes to live in, that you catch them by pouring wat=
er
down, and that they can't pos=
sibly
live without eating very often;" and Stuffy sat down, wishing he had not been too lazy to
write out his valuable observ=
ations,
for a general smile went round when he mentioned the last of the three facts which
lingered in his memory.
"Then we are done for to-day," b=
egan
Mr. Bhaer, but Tommy called o=
ut in
a great hurry,
"No we ain't. Don't you know? We must
give the thing;" and he =
winked
violently as he made an eye-glass of his fingers.
"Bless my heart, I forgot! Now is your
time, Tom;" and Mr. Bhaer dropped
into his seat again, while all the boys but Dan looked mightily tickled at something.
Nat, Tommy, and Demi left the room, and
speedily returned with a litt=
le red
morocco box set forth in state on Mrs. Jo's best silver salver. Tommy bore it, and, still
escorted by Nat and Demi, mar=
ched
up to unsuspecting Dan, who stared at them as if he thought they were going to make fu=
n of
him. Tommy had prepared an el=
egant
and impressive speech for the occasion, but when the minute came, it all went out of his
head, and he just said, straight from
his kindly boyish heart,
"Here, old fellow, we all wanted to g=
ive
you something to kind of pay =
for
what happened awhile ago, and to show how much we liked you for being such a trump. =
Please
take it, and have a jolly goo=
d time
with it."
Dan was so surprised he could only get as =
red
as the little box, and mutter,
"Thanky, boys!" as he fumbled to open it. But when he saw what was inside, his face lighted =
up,
and he seized the long desired treasure,
saying so enthusiastically that every one was satisfied, though is language was anything but
polished,
"What a stunner! I say, you fellows a=
re
regular bricks to give me thi=
s;
it's just what I wanted. Give us your paw, Tommy."
Many paws were given, and heartily shaken,=
for
the boys were charmed with Da=
n's
pleasure, and crowded round him to shake&n=
bsp;
hands and expatiate on the beauties of their gift. In the midst of this pleasant chatter, Dan's eye w=
ent to
Mrs. Jo, who stood outside the
group enjoying the scene with all her heart.
"No, I had nothing to do with it. The
boys got it up all themselves,"
she said, answering the grateful look that seemed to thank her for that happy moment. Dan smiled, and=
said,
in a tone that only she could
understand,
"It's you all the same;" and mak=
ing
his way through the boys, he =
held
out his hand first to her and then to the good Professor, who was beaming benevolently on his fl=
ock.
He thanked them both with the silent, hear=
ty
squeeze he gave the kind hand=
s that
had held him up, and led him into the safe refuge of a happy home. Not a word was sp=
oken,
but they felt all he would sa=
y, and
little Teddy expressed his pleasure for them as he leaned from his father's arm to hu=
g the
boy, and say, in his baby way=
,
"My dood Danny! everybody loves him
now."
"Come here, show off your spy-glass, =
Dan,
and let us see some of your
magnified pollywogs and annymalcumisms as you call 'em," said Jack, who felt so uncomfortab=
le
during this scene that he wou=
ld
have slipped away if Emil had not kept him.
"So I will, take a squint at that and=
see
what you think of it," said Dan,
glad to show off his precious microscope.
He held it over a beetle that happened to =
be
lying on the table, and Jack =
bent
down to take his squint, but looked up with an amazed face, saying,
"My eye! what nippers the old thing h=
as
got! I see now why it hurts so
confoundedly when you grab a dorbug and he grabs back again."
"He winked at me," cried Nan, who
had poked her head under Jack=
's
elbow and got the second peep.
Every one took a look, and then Dan showed
them the lovely plumage on a =
moth's
wing, the four feathery corners to a hair, the veins on a leaf, hardly visible to=
the
naked eye, but like a thick net through
the wonderful little glass; the skin on their own fingers, looking like queer hills and valle=
ys; a
cobweb like a bit of coarse s=
ewing
silk, and the sting of a bee.
"It's like the fairy spectacles in my
story-book, only more curious,"
said Demi, enchanted with the wonders he saw.
"Dan is a magician now, and he can sh=
ow
you many miracles going on all
round you; for he has two things needful patience and a love of nature. We live in a bea=
utiful
and wonderful world, Demi, an=
d the
more you know about it the wiser and the better you will be. This little glass will gi=
ve you
a new set of teachers, and yo=
u may
learn fine lessons from them if you will," said Mr. Bhaer, glad to see how interested the boy=
s were
in the matter.
"Could I see anybody's soul with this
microscope if I looked hard?" <=
/span>asked
Demi, who was much impressed with the power of the bit of glass.
"No, dear; it's not powerful enough f=
or
that, and never can be made s=
o. You
must wait a long while before your eyes are clear enough to see the most invisible of God's
wonders. But looking at the l=
ovely
things you can see will help you to understand the lovelier things you can not see," answ=
ered
Uncle Fritz, with his hand on the =
span>boy's
head.
"Well, Daisy and I both think that if
there are any angels, their w=
ings
look like that butterfly's as we see it through the glass, only more soft and gold."
"Believe it if you like, and keep your
own little wings as bright and beautiful,
only don't fly away for a long time yet."
"No, I won't," and Demi kept his
word.
"Good-by, my boys; I must go now, but=
I
leave you with our new Profes=
sor of
Natural History;" and Mrs. Jo went away well pleased with that composition day.
The gardens did well that summer, and in
September the little crops we=
re
gathered in with much rejoicing. Jack and Ned joined their farms and raised potatoes, t=
hose
being a good salable article. They
got twelve bushels, counting little ones and all, and sold them to Mr. Bhaer at a fair price,=
for
potatoes went fast in that ho=
use.
Emil and Franz devoted themselves to corn, and had a jolly little husking in the barn, after =
which
they took their corn to the m=
ill,
and came proudly home with meal enough to supply the family with hasty-pudding and
Johnny-cake for a lone time. They =
span>would
not take money for their crop; because, as Franz said, "We never can pay Uncle for all he has=
done
for us if we raised corn for =
the
rest of our days."
Nat had beans in such abundance that he
despaired of ever shelling th=
em,
till Mrs. Jo proposed a new way, which succeeded admirably. The dry pods were sprea=
d upon
the barn-floor, Nat fiddled, =
and
the boys danced quadrilles on them, till they were thrashed out with much merriment a=
nd
very little labor.
Tommy's six weeks' beans were a failure; f=
or a
dry spell early in the season=
hurt
them, because he gave them no water; and after that he was so sure that they coul=
d take
care of themselves, he let th=
e poor
things struggle with bugs and weeds till they were exhausted and died a lingering dea=
th. So
Tommy had to dig his farm over
again, and plant peas. But they were late; the birds ate many; the bushes, not being firmly
planted, blew down, and when =
the
poor peas came at last, no one cared for them, as their day was over, and spring-lamb had grown in=
to
mutton. Tommy consoled himsel=
f with
a charitable effort; for he transplanted all the thistles he could find, and tended them car=
efully
for Toby, who was fond of the
prickly delicacy, and had eaten all he could find on the place. The boys had great fun over=
Tom's
thistle bed; but he insisted =
that
it was better to care for poor Toby than for himself, and declared that he would devote =
his
entire farm next year to this=
tles,
worms, and snails, that Demi's turtles and Nat's pet owl might have the food they loved, as=
well
as the donkey. So like shiftl=
ess,
kind-hearted, happy-go-lucky Tommy!
Demi had supplied his grandmother with let=
tuce
all summer, and in the autumn=
sent
his grandfather a basket of turnips, each one scrubbed up till it looked like a =
great
white egg. His Grandma was fo=
nd of
salad, and one of his Grandpa's favorite quotations was
"Lucullus, whom frugality could charm=
,
Ate roasted turnips at the Sabine farm.&qu=
ot;
Therefore these vegetable offerings to the
dear domestic god and goddess=
were
affectionate, appropriate, and classical.
Daisy had nothing but flowers in her little
plot, and it bloomed all summ=
er
long with a succession of gay or fragrant posies. She was very fond of her garden, and delve=
d away
in it at all hours, watching =
over
her roses, and pansies, sweet-peas, and mignonette, as faithfully and tenderly as she =
did
over her dolls or her friends. Little
nosegays were sent into town on all occasions, and certain vases about the house were her esp=
ecial
care. She had all sorts of pr=
etty
fancies about her flowers, and loved to tell the children the story of the pansy, and show them =
how
the step-mother-leaf sat up i=
n her
green chair in purple and gold; how the two own children in gay yellow had each its little sea=
t,
while the step children, in dull colors,
both sat on one small stool, and the poor little father in his red nightcap, was kept out of sigh=
t in
the middle of the flower; that a
monk's dark face looked out of the monk's-hood larkspur; that the flowers of the canary-vine wer=
e so
like dainty birds fluttering =
their
yellow wings, that one almost expected to see them fly away, and the snapdragons that went off =
like
little pistol-shots when you =
cracked
them. Splendid dollies did she make out of scarlet and white poppies, with ruffled robes =
tied
round the waist with grass bl=
ade
sashes, and astonishing hats of coreopsis on their green heads. Pea-pod boats, with rose-le=
af
sails, received these flower-=
people,
and floated them about a placid pool in the most charming style; for finding that t=
here
were no elves, Daisy made her=
own,
and loved the fanciful little friends who played their parts in her summer-life.
Nan went in for herbs, and had a fine disp=
lay
of useful plants, which she t=
ended
with steadily increasing interest and care. Very busy was she in September cutting,
drying, and tying up her sweet harvest,
and writing down in a little book how the different herbs are to be used. She had tried seve=
ral
experiments, and made several
mistakes; so she wished to be particular lest she should give little Huz another fit by
administering wormwood instead of =
span>catnip.
Dick, Dolly, and Rob each grubbed away on =
his
small farm, and made more stir
about it than all the rest put together. Parsnips and carrots were the crops of the two =
D.'s;
and they longed for it to be =
late
enough to pull up the precious vegetables. Dick did privately examine his carrots, and plant them
again, feeling that Silas was right
in saying it was too soon for them yet.
Rob's crop was four small squashes and one
immense pumpkin. It really wa=
s a
"bouncer," as every one said; and I assure you that two small persons could sit on it side=
by
side. It seemed to have absor=
bed
all the goodness of the little garden, and all the sunshine that shone down on it, and lay the=
re a
great round, golden ball, full of
rich suggestions of pumpkin-pies for weeks to come. Robby was so proud of his mammoth vegetable =
that
he took every one to see it, =
and,
when frosts began to nip, covered it up each night with an old bedquilt, tucking it round as =
if the
pumpkin was a well-beloved ba=
by.
The day it was gathered he would let no one touch it but himself, and nearly broke his back
tugging it to the barn in his little
wheelbarrow, with Dick and Dolly harnessed in front to give a heave up the path. His mother pr=
omised
him that the Thanksgiving-pies
should be made from it, and hinted vaguely that she had a plan in her head which w=
ould
cover the prize pumpkin and i=
ts
owner with glory.
Poor Billy had planted cucumbers, but
unfortunately hoed them up an=
d left
the pig-weed. This mistake grieved him very much for tem minutes, then he forgot all about =
it,
and sowed a handful of bright buttons
which he had collected, evidently thinking in his feeble mind that they were money, and wou=
ld
come up and multiply, so that=
he
might make many quarters, as Tommy did. No one disturbed him, and he did what he =
liked
with his plot, which soon loo=
ked as
if a series of small earthquakes had stirred it up. When the general harvest-day came, he w=
ould
have had nothing but stones a=
nd
weeds to show, if kind old Asia had not hung half-a-dozen oranges on the dead t=
ree he
stuck up in the middle. Billy=
was
delighted with his crop; and no one spoiled his pleasure in the little miracle which pity w=
rought
for him, by making withered
branches bear strange fruit. <=
/span>
Stuffy had various trials with his melons;
for, being impatient to taste=
them,
he had a solitary revel before they were ripe, and made himself so ill, that for a day or =
two it
seemed doubtful if he would e=
ver
eat any more. But he pulled through it, and served up his first cantaloupe without tasting a mouth=
ful
himself. They were excellent
melons, for he had a warm slope for them, and they ripened fast. The last and best we=
re
lingering on the vines, and S=
tuffy
had announced that he should sell them to a neighbor. This disappointed the boys, who had hop=
ed to
eat the melons themselves, an=
d they
expressed their displeasure in a new and&n=
bsp;
striking manner. Going one morning to gaze upon the three fine watermelons which he had kept for =
the
market, Stuffy was horrified =
to
find the word "PIG" cut in white letters on the green rind, staring at him from every on=
e. He
was in a great rage, and flew=
to
Mrs. Jo for redress. She listened, condoled with him, and then said,
"If you want to turn the laugh, I'll =
tell
you how, but you must give up=
the
melons."
"Well, I will; for I can't thrash all=
the
boys, but I'd like to give them something
to remember, the mean sneaks," growled Stuff, still in a fume.
Now Mrs. Jo was pretty sure who had done t=
he
trick, for she had seen three=
heads
suspiciously near to one another in the&nb=
sp;
sofa-corner the evening before; and when these heads had nodded with chuckles and whispers, this
experienced woman knew mischi=
ef was
afoot. A moonlight night, a rustling in the old cherry-tree near Emil's window, a =
cut on
Tommy's finger, all helped to
confirm her suspicions; and having cooled Stuffy's wrath a little, she bade him bring his
maltreated melons to her room, and <=
/span>say
not a word to any one of what had happened. He did so, and the three wags were amazed to find=
their
joke so quietly taken. It spo=
ilt
the fun, and the entire disappearance of the melons made them uneasy. So did Stuffy's
good-nature, for he looked more placid
and plump than ever, and surveyed them with an air of calm pity that perplexed them very much=
.
At dinner-time they discovered why; for th=
en
Stuffy's vengeance fell upon =
them,
and the laugh was turned against them. When the pudding was eaten, and the fruit w=
as put
on, Mary Ann re-appeared in a=
high
state of giggle, bearing a large watermelon; Silas followed with another; and D=
an
brought up the rear with a th=
ird.
One was placed before each of the three guilty lads; and they read on the smooth green skins this
addition to their own work, &=
quot;With
the compliments of the PIG." Every one else read it also, and the whole table was in a roar,=
for
the trick had been whispered =
about;
so every one understood the sequel. Emil, Ned, and Tommy did not know where to look, and ha=
d not
a word to say for themselves;=
so
they wisely joined in the laugh, cut up the melons, and handed them round, saying, wha=
t all
the rest agreed to, that Stuf=
fy had
taken a wise and merry way to return good for evil.
Dan had no garden, for he was away or lame=
the
greater part of the summer; s=
o he
had helped Silas wherever he could, chopped wood for Asia, and taken care of the la=
wn so
well, that Mrs. Jo always had
smooth paths and nicely shaven turf before her door.
When the others got in their crops, he loo=
ked
sorry that he had so little to
show; but as autumn went on, he bethought himself of a woodland harvest which no one would
dispute with him, and which w=
as
peculiarly his own. Every Saturday he was away alone to the forests, fields, and hills,=
and
always came back loaded with =
spoils;
for he seemed to know the meadows where the best flag-root grew, the thicket where =
the
sassafras was spiciest, the h=
aunts
where the squirrels went for nuts, the white oak whose bark was most valuable, and the little
gold-thread vine that Nursey liked <=
/span>to
cure the canker with. All sorts of splendid red and yellow leaves did Dan bring home for Mrs. Jo to =
dress
her parlor with, graceful-see=
ded
grasses, clematis tassels, downy, soft, yellow wax-work berries, and mosses,
red-brimmed, white, or emerald green.
"I need not sigh for the woods now,
because Dan brings the woods =
to
me," Mrs. Jo used to say, as she glorified the walls with yellow maple boughs and scarlet woodbine =
wreaths,
or filled her vases with russ=
et
ferns, hemlock sprays full of delicate cones, and hardy autumn flowers; for Dan's crop sui=
ted
her well.
The great garret was full of the children's
little stores and for a time =
was
one of the sights of the house. Daisy's flower seeds in neat little paper bags, all labell=
ed,
lay in a drawer of a three-legged =
span>table.
Nan's herbs hung in bunches against the wall, filling the air with their aromatic breath. Tommy =
had a
basket of thistle-down with t=
he
tiny seeds attached, for he meant to plant them next year, if they did not all fly away befor=
e that
time. Emil had bunches of pop=
-corn
hanging there to dry, and Demi laid up acorns and different sorts of grain for the p=
ets.
But Dan's crop made the best =
show,
for fully one half of the floor was covered with the nuts he brought. All kinds were there, for=
he
ranged the woods for miles ro=
und,
climbed the tallest trees, and forced his way into the thickest hedges for his plunder.
Walnuts, chestnuts, hazelnuts, and <=
/span>beechnuts
lay in separate compartments, getting brown, and dry, and sweet, ready for winter revels=
.
There was one butternut-tree on the place,=
and
Rob and Teddy called it their=
s. It
bore well this year, and the great dingy nuts came dropping down to hide among the de=
ad
leaves, where the busy squirr=
els
found them better than the lazy Bhaers. Their father had told them (the boys, not the squir=
rels)
they should have the nuts if =
they
would pick them up, but no one was to help. It was easy work, and Teddy liked it, only he soon g=
ot
tired, and left his little basket =
span>half
full for another day. But the other day was slow to arrive, and, meantime, the sly squirrels were h=
ard at
work, scampering up and down =
the
old elm-trees stowing the nuts away till their holes were full, then all about the crotches =
of the
boughs, to be removed at their
leisure. Their funny little ways amused the boys, till one day Silas said,
"Hev you sold them nuts to the
squirrels?"
"No," answered Rob, wondering wh=
at
Silas meant.
"Wal, then, you'd better fly round, or
them spry little fellers won't leave
you none."
"Oh, we can beat them when we begin.
There are such lots of nuts we
shall have a plenty."
"There ain't many more to come down, =
and
they have cleared the ground =
pretty
well, see if they hain't."
Robby ran to look, and was alarmed to find=
how
few remained. He called Teddy=
, and
they worked hard all one afternoon, while the squirrels sat on the fence and sco=
lded.
"Now, Ted, we must keep watch, and pi=
ck
up just as fast as they fall,=
or we
shan't have more than a bushel, and every one will laugh at us if we don't."
"The naughty quillies tarn't have 'em.
I'll pick fast and run and put 'em
in the barn twick," said Teddy, frowning at little Frisky, who chattered and whisked his tail
indignantly.
That night a high wind blew down hundreds =
of
nuts, and when Mrs. Jo came t=
o wake
her little sons, she said, briskly,
"Come, my laddies, the squirrels are =
hard
at it, and you will have to w=
ork well
to-day, or they will have every nut on the ground."
"No, they won't," and Robby tumb=
led
up in a great hurry, gobbled =
his
breakfast, and rushed out to save his property.
Teddy went too, and worked like a little
beaver, trotting to and fro w=
ith
full and empty baskets. Another bushel was soon put away in the corn-barn, and they were scram=
bling
among the leaves for more nut=
s when
the bell rang for school.
"O father! let me stay out and pick.
Those horrid squirrels will h=
ave my
nuts if you don't. I'll do my lessons by and by," cried Rob, running into the school-room, flus=
hed
and tousled by the fresh cold wind
and his eager work.
"If you had been up early and done a
little every morning there wo=
uld be
no hurry now. I told you that, Rob, and you never minded. I cannot have the lessons
neglected as the work has been. The
squirrels will get more than their share this year, and they deserve it, for they have worked b=
est.
You may go an hour earlier, b=
ut
that is all," and Mr. Bhaer led Rob to his place where the little man dashed at his books as if bent=
on
making sure of the precious h=
our
promised him.
It was almost maddening to sit still and s=
ee
the wind shaking down the last
nuts, and the lively thieves flying about, pausing now and then to eat one in his face, and f=
lirt
their tails, as if they said, saucily,
"We'll have them in spite of you, lazy Rob." The only thing that sustained the poor chil=
d in
this trying moment was the si=
ght of
Teddy working away all alone. It was really splendid the pluck and perseverance of the litt=
le
lad. He picked and picked till his
back ached; he trudged to and fro till his small legs were tired; and he defied wind, weariness, and
wicked "quillies," till his
mother left her work and did the carrying for him, full of admiration for the kind little fel=
low
who tried to help his brother. When
Rob was dismissed, he found Teddy reposing in the bushel-basket quite used up, but
unwilling to quit the field; for he
flapped his hat at the thieves with one grubby little hand, while he=
refreshed himself with the big app=
le
held in the other.
Rob fell to work and the ground was cleared
before two o'clock, the nuts =
safely
in the corn-barn loft, and the weary workers exulted in their success. But Frisky and h=
is
wife were not to be vanquished so
easily; and when Rob went up to look at his nuts a few days later he was amazed to see how man=
y had
vanished. None of the boys co=
uld
have stolen them, because the door had been locked; the doves could not have eaten the=
m, and
there were no rats about. The=
re was
great lamentation among the young Bhaers till Dick said
"I saw Frisky on the roof of the
corn-barn, may be he took them."
"I know he did! I'll have a trap, and
kill him dead," cried Rob, disgusted
with Frisky's grasping nature.
"Perhaps if you watch, you can find o=
ut
where he puts them, and I may=
be
able to get them back for you," said Dan, who was much amused by the fight between the bo=
ys and
squirrels.
So Rob watched and saw Mr. and Mrs. Frisky
drop from the drooping elm bo=
ughs
on to the roof of the corn-barn, dodge in at one of the little doors, much to t=
he
disturbance of the doves, and come
out with a nut in each mouth. So laden they could not get back the way they came, but ran do=
wn the
low roof, along the wall, and
leaping off at a corner they vanished a minute and re-appeared without their plunder. Rob ran to =
the
place, and in a hollow under =
the
leaves he found a heap of the stolen property hidden away to be carried off to the holes by and=
by.
"Oh, you little villains! I'll cheat =
you
now, and not leave one," said <=
/span>Rob.
So he cleared the corner and the corn-barn, and put the contested nuts in the garret, maki=
ng
sure that no broken window-pa=
ne
could anywhere let in the unprincipled squirrels. They seemed to feel that the conte=
st was
over, and retired to their ho=
le,
but now and then could not resist throwing down nut-shells on Rob's head, and scolding violen=
tly as
if they could not forgive him=
nor
forget that he had the best of the battle.
Father and Mother Bhaer's crop was of a
different sort, and not so ea=
sily
described; but they were satisfied with it, felt that their summer work had prospered well, an=
d by
and by had a harvest that mad=
e them
very happy.
CHAPTER XIX JOHN BROOKE<=
span
class=3DCharChar2>
"Wake up, Demi, dear! I want you.&quo=
t;
"Why, I've just gone to bed; it can't=
be
morning yet;" and Demi b=
linked
like a little owl as he waked from his first sound sleep.
"It's only ten, but your father is il=
l,
and we must go to him. O my l=
ittle
John! my poor little John!" and Aunt Jo laid her head down on the pillow with a sob that scar=
ed
sleep from Demi's eyes and fi=
lled
his heart with fear and wonder; for he dimly felt why Aunt Jo called him "John," an=
d wept
over him as if some loss had come =
span>that
left him poor. He clung to her without a word, and in a minute she was quite steady again, and sa=
id,
with a tender kiss as she saw his
troubled face,
"We are going to say good-by to him, =
my
darling, and there is no time=
to
lose; so dress quickly and come to me in my room. I must go to Daisy."
"Yes, I will;" and when Aunt Jo =
was
gone, little Demi got up quie=
tly,
dressed as if in a dream, and leaving Tommy fast asleep went away through the silent house,
feeling that something new and
sorrowful was going to happen something that set him apart from the other boys for a time, an=
d made
the world seem as dark and st=
ill
and strange as those familiar rooms did in the night. A carriage sent by Mr. Laurie stood =
before
the door. Daisy was soon read=
y, and
the brother and sister held each other by the hand all the way into town, as they drove swift=
ly and
silently with aunt and uncle
through the shadowy roads to say good-by to father.
None of the boys but Franz and Emil knew w=
hat
had happened, and when they c=
ame
down next morning, great was their <=
/span>wonderment
and discomfort, for the house seemed forlorn without its master and mistress. Breakfast=
was a
dismal meal with no cheery Mr=
s. Jo
behind the teapots; and when school-time came, Father Bhaer's place was empty. Th=
ey
wandered about in a disconsol=
ate
kind of way for an hour, waiting for news and hoping it would be all right with Demi's
father, for good John Brooke was much
beloved by the boys. Ten o'clock came, and no one arrived to relieve their anxiety. They did=
not
feel like playing, yet the time dragged
heavily, and they sat about listless and sober. All at once, Franz got up, and said, in his
persuasive way,
"Look here, boys! let's go into school
and do our lessons just as if Uncle
was here. It will make the day go faster, and will please him, I know."
"But who will hear us say them?"
asked Jack.
"I will; I don't know much more than =
you
do, but I'm the oldest here, =
and
I'll try to fill Uncle's place till he comes, if you don't mind."
Something in the modest, serious way Franz
said this impressed the boys,=
for,
though the poor lad's eyes were red with quiet crying for Uncle John in that long sad ni=
ght,
there was a new manliness abo=
ut
him, as if he had already begun to feel the cares and troubles of life, and tried to take them br=
avely.
"I will, for one," and Emil went=
to
his seat, remembering that ob=
edience
to his superior officer is a seaman's first duty.
The others followed; Franz took his uncle's
seat, and for an hour order
reigned. Lessons were learned and said, and Franz made a patient, pleasant teacher, wisely
omitting such lessons as he was not
equal to, and keeping order more by the unconscious dignity that sorrow gave him than by any w=
ords
of his own. The little boys w=
ere
reading when a step was heard in the hall, and every one looked up to read the news in Mr.
Bhaer's face as he came in. The kind
face told them instantly that Demi had no father now, for it was worn and pale, and full of ten=
der
grief, which left him no word=
s with
which to answer Rob, as he ran to him, saying, reproachfully,
"What made you go and leave me in the
night, papa?"
The memory of the other father who had left
his children in the night, ne=
ver to
return, made Mr. Bhaer hold his own boy close, and, for a minute, hide his face in
Robby's curly hair. Emil laid his =
span>head
down on his arms, Franz, went to put his hand on his uncle's shoulder, his boyish face pale with
sympathy and sorrow, and the =
others
sat so still that the soft rustle of the falling leaves outside was distinctly heard.
Rob did not clearly understand what had
happened, but he hated to see=
papa
unhappy, so he lifted up the bent head, and said, in his chirpy little voice,
"Don't cry, mein Vater! we were all so
good, we did our lessons, wit=
hout
you, and Franz was the master."
Mr. Bhaer looked up then, tried to smile, =
and
said in a grateful tone that =
made
the lads feel like saints, "I thank you very much, my boys. It was a beautiful way to he=
lp and
comfort me. I shall not forge=
t it,
I assure you."
"Franz proposed it, and was a first-r=
ate
master, too," said Nat; and the
others gave a murmur of assent most gratifying to the young dominie.
Mr. Bhaer put Rob down, and, standing up, =
put
his arm round his tall nephew=
's
shoulder, as he said, with a look of genuine pleasure,
"This makes my hard day easier, and g=
ives
me confidence in you all. I am
needed there in town, and must leave you for some hours. I thought to give you a holiday, o=
r send
some of you home, but if you =
like
to stay and go on as you have begun, I shall be glad and proud of my good boys."
"We'll stay;" "We'd
rather;" "Franz can see to us;" cried several, delighted with the confidence show=
n in
them.
"Isn't Marmar coming home?" asked
Rob, wistfully; for home with=
out
"Marmar" was the world without the sun to him.
"We shall both come to-night; but dear
Aunt Meg needs Mother more th=
an you
do now, and I know you like to lend her for a little while."
"Well, I will; but Teddy's been crying
for her, and he slapped Nurse=
y, and
was dreadful naughty," answered Rob, as if the news might bring mother home.
"Where is my little man?" asked =
Mr.
Bhaer.
"Dan took him out, to keep him quiet.
He's all right now," said Franz,
pointing to the window, through which they could see Dan drawing baby in his little wagon, =
with
the dogs frolicking about him=
.
"I won't see him, it would only upset=
him
again; but tell Dan I leave T=
eddy
in his care. You older boys I trust to manage yourselves for a day. Franz will d=
irect
you, and Silas is here to over see
matters. So good-by till to-night."
"Just tell me a word about Uncle
John," said Emil, detaining Mr.
Bhaer, as he was about hurrying away again.
"He was only ill a few hours, and die=
d as
he has lived, so cheerfully, =
so
peacefully, that it seems a sin to mar the beauty of it with any violent or selfish grief.=
We
were in time to say good-by: =
and
Daisy and Demi were in his arms as he fell asleep on Aunt Meg's breast. No more now, I canno=
t bear
it," and Mr. Bhaer went =
hastily
away quite bowed with grief, for in John Brooke he had lost both friend and brother, and there=
was
no one left to take his place.
All that day the house was very still; the
small boys played quietly in =
the
nursery; the others, feeling as if Sunday had come in the middle of the week, spent it in wa=
lking,
sitting in the willow, or amo=
ng
their pets, all talking much of "Uncle John," and feeling that something gentle, just, and st=
rong,
had gone out of their little =
world,
leaving a sense of loss that deepened every hour. At dusk, Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer came home alone=
, for
Demi and Daisy were their mot=
her's
best comfort now, and could not leave her. Poor Mrs. Jo seemed quite spent, and
evidently needed the same sort of =
span>comfort,
for her first words, as she came up the stairs, were, "Where is my baby?"
"Here I is," answered a little
voice, as Dan put Teddy into her arms,
adding, as she hugged him close, "My Danny tooked tare of me all day, and I was dood." =
Mrs. Jo turned to thank the faithful nurse,
but Dan was waving off the bo=
ys,
who had gathered in the hall to meet her, and was saying, in a low voice, "Keep back; s=
he
don't want to be bothered with us =
span>now."
"No, don't keep back. I want you all.
Come in and see me, my boys. =
I've
neglected you all day," and Mrs. Jo held out her hands to them as they gathered round and es=
corted
her into her own room, saying
little, but expressing much by affectionate looks and clumsy little efforts to show their sorro=
w and
sympathy.
"I am so tired, I will lie here and
cuddle Teddy, and you shall bring =
span>me
in some tea," she said, trying to speak cheerfully for their sakes.
A general stampede into the dining-room
followed, and the supper-table
would have been ravaged if Mr. Bhaer had not interfered. It was agreed that one=
squad
should carry in the mother's =
tea,
and another bring it out. The four nearest and dearest claimed the first honor, so Franz =
bore
the teapot, Emil the bread, R=
ob the
milk, and Teddy insisted on carrying the sugar basin, which was lighter by several lumps=
when
it arrived than when it start=
ed.
Some women might have found it annoying at such a time to have boys creaking in and out,
upsetting cups and rattling s=
poons
in violent efforts to be quiet and helpful; but it suited Mrs. Jo, because just then her heart wa=
s very
tender; and remembering that =
many
of her boys were fatherless or motherless, she yearned over them, and found comfort in th=
eir
blundering affection. It was =
the
sort of food that did her more good than the very thick bread-and-butter that they gave he=
r, and
the rough Commodore's broken
whisper,
"Bear up, Aunty, it's a hard blow; but
we'll weather it somehow;" cheered
her more than the sloppy cup he brought her, full of tea as bitter as if some salt tear of his=
own
had dropped into it on the wa=
y.
When supper was over, a second deputation removed the tray; and Dan said, holding out hi=
s arms
for sleepy little Teddy,
"Let me put him to bed, you're so tir=
ed,
Mother."
"Will you go with him, lovey?" a=
sked
Mrs. Jo of her small lord and master,
who lay on her arm among the sofa-pillows.
"Torse I will;" and he was proud=
ly
carried off by his faithful b=
earer.
"I wish I could do something," s=
aid
Nat, with a sigh, as Franz le=
aned
over the sofa, and softly stroked Aunt Jo's hot forehead.
"You can, dear. Go and get your violi=
n,
and play me the sweet little =
airs
Uncle Teddy sent you last. Music will comfort me better than any thing else to-night."=
;
Nat flew for his fiddle, and, sitting just
outside her door, played as h=
e had
never done before, for now his heart was in it, and seemed to magnetize his fingers. The othe=
r lads
sat quietly upon the steps, k=
eeping
watch that no new-comer should disturb the house; Franz lingered at his post; and so, soot=
hed,
served, and guarded by her bo=
ys,
poor Mrs. Jo slept at last, and forgot her sorrow for an hour.
Two quiet days, and on the third Mr. Bhaer
came in just after school, wi=
th a
note in his hand, looking both moved and pleased.
"I want to read you something,
boys," he said; and as they stood&nbs=
p;
round him he read this:
"DEAR BROTHER FRITZ, I hear that you =
do
not mean to bring your flock =
today,
thinking that I may not like it. Please do. The sight of his friends will help Demi
through the hard hour, and I =
want
the boys to hear what father says of my John. It will do them good, I know. If they would sing o=
ne of
the sweet old hymns you have =
taught
them so well, I should like it better than any other music, and feel that it was beauti=
fully
suited to the occasion. Pleas=
e ask
them, with my love.
MEG."
"Will you go?" and Mr. Bhaer loo=
ked
at the lads, who were greatly touched
by Mrs. Brooke's kind words and wishes.
"Yes," they answered, like one b=
oy;
and an hour later they went a=
way
with Franz to bear their part in John Brooke's simple funeral.
The little house looked as quiet, sunny, a=
nd
home-like as when Meg entered=
it as
a bride, ten years ago, only then it was early summer, and rose blossomed everywh=
ere;
now it was early autumn, and =
dead
leaves rustled softly down, leaving the branches bare. The bride was a widow now; b=
ut the
same beautiful serenity shone=
in her
face, and the sweet resignation of a truly pious soul made her presence a consolation to=
those
who came to comfort her.
"O Meg! how can you bear it so?"
whispered Jo, as she met them at
the door with a smile of welcome, and no change in her gentle manner, except more gentleness.
"Dear Jo, the love that has blest me =
for
ten happy years supports me s=
till.
It could not die, and John is more my own than ever," whispered Meg; and in her eyes the
tender trust was so beautiful and
bright, that Jo believed her, and thanked God for the immortality of love like hers.
They were all there father and mother, Unc=
le
Teddy, and Aunt Amy, old Mr.
Laurence, white-haired and feeble now, Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer, with their flock, and =
many
friends, come to do honor to =
the
dead. One would have said that modest John Brooke, in his busy, quiet, humble life, had had =
little
time to make friends; but now=
they
seemed to start up everywhere, old and young, rich and poor, high and low; for all
unconsciously his influence had made
itself widely felt, his virtues were remembered, and his hidden charities rose up to bless him. The
group about his coffin was a far more
eloquent eulogy than any Mr. March could utter. There were the rich men whom he had served fa=
ithfully
for years; the poor old women=
whom
he cherished with his little store, in memory of his mother; the wife to whom he had gi=
ven
such happiness that death cou=
ld not
mar it utterly; the brothers and sisters in whose hearts he had made a place for ever; the lit=
tle
son and daughter, who already felt
the loss of his strong arm and tender voice; the young children, sobbing for their kindest playmate=
, and
the tall lads, watching with =
softened
faces a scene which they never could forget. A very simple service, and very short; fo=
r the
fatherly voice that had falte=
red in
the marriage-sacrament now failed entirely as Mr. March endeavored to pay his tribut=
e of
reverence and love to the son=
whom
he most honored. Nothing but the soft coo of Baby Josy's voice up-stairs broke the l=
ong
hush that followed the last A=
men,
till, at a sign from Mr. Bhaer, the well-trained boyish voices broke out in a hymn, so ful=
l of
lofty cheer, that one by one =
all
joined in it, singing with full hearts, and finding their troubled spirits lifted into peace on the w=
ings
of that brave, sweet psalm. =
span>
As Meg listened, she felt that she had done
well; for not only did the mo=
ment
comfort her with the assurance that John's last lullaby was sung by the young voices he lo=
ved so
well, but in the faces of the=
boys
she saw that they had caught a glimpse of the beauty of virtue in its most impressive form=
, and
that the memory of the good m=
an
lying dead before them would live long and helpfully in their remembrance. Daisy's head la=
y in
her lap, and Demi held her ha=
nd,
looking often at her, with eyes so like his father's, and a little gesture that seemed to say, "=
Don't
be troubled, mother; I am here;"
and all about her were friends to lean upon and love; so patient,
That evening, as the Plumfield boys sat on=
the
steps, as usual, in the mild
September moonlight, they naturally fell to talking of the event of the day.
Emil began by breaking out, in his impetuo=
us
way, "Uncle Fritz is the
wisest, and Uncle Laurie the jolliest, but Uncle John was the best; and I'd rather be like him t=
han
any man I ever saw."
"So would I. Did you hear what those
gentlemen said to Grandpa to-=
day? I
would like to have that said of me when I was dead;" and Franz felt with regret that he had=
not
appreciated Uncle John enough=
.
"What did they say?" asked Jack,=
who
had been much impressed by the
scenes of the day.
"Why, one of the partners of Mr.
Laurence, where Uncle John has been
ever so long, was saying that he was conscientious almost to a fault as a business man, and abo=
ve
reproach in all things. Anoth=
er
gentleman said no money could repay the fidelity and honesty with which Uncle John had =
served
him, and then Grandpa told th=
em the
best of all. Uncle John once had a place in the office of a man who cheated, and when thi=
s man
wanted uncle to help him do i=
t,
uncle wouldn't, though he was offered a big salary. The man was angry and said, 'You will =
never
get on in business with such =
strict
principles;' and uncle answered back, 'I never will try to get on without them,' and left the=
place
for a much harder and poorer
one."
"Good!" cried several of the boys
warmly, for they were in the =
mood
to understand and value the little story as never before.
"He wasn't rich, was he?" asked
Jack.
"No."
"He never did any thing to make a sti=
r in
the world, did he?"
"No."
"He was only good?"
"That's all;" and Franz found
himself wishing that Uncle John had
done something to boast of, for it was evident that Jack was disappointed by his replies.
"Only good. That is all and every
thing," said Mr. Bhaer, who had
overheard the last few words, and guessed what was going on the minds of the lads.
"Let me tell you a little about John
Brooke, and you will see why =
men
honor him, and why he was satisfied to be good rather than rich or famous. He simply did his =
duty
in all things, and did it so =
cheerfully,
so faithfully, that it kept him patient and brave, and happy through poverty and loneline=
ss and
years of hard work. He was a =
good
son, and gave up his own plans to stay and live with his mother while she needed him. He wa=
s a
good friend, and taught Lauri=
e much
beside his Greek and Latin, did it unconsciously, perhaps, by showing him an example=
of an
upright man. He was a faithful
servant, and made himself so valuable to those who employed him that they will find i=
t hard
to fill his place. He was a g=
ood
husband and father, so tender, wise, and thoughtful, that Laurie and I learned much of him, =
and
only knew how well he loved h=
is
family, when we discovered all he had done for them, unsuspected and unassisted." =
Mr. Bhaer stopped a minute, and the boys s=
at
like statues in the moonlight=
until
he went on again, in a subdued, but earnest voice: "As he lay dying, I said to h=
im,
'Have no care for Meg and the little
ones; I will see that they never want.' Then he smiled and pressed my hand, and answered, in his chee=
rful
way, 'No need of that; I have=
cared
for them.' And so he had, for when we looked among his papers, all was in order, not =
a debt
remained; and safely put away=
was
enough to keep Meg comfortable and independent. Then we knew why he had lived so plainl=
y,
denied himself so many pleasu=
res,
except that of charity, and worked so hard that I fear he shortened his good life. He never =
asked
help for himself, though ofte=
n for
others, but bore his own burden and worked out his own task bravely and quietly. No one c=
an say
a word of complaint against h=
im, so
just and generous and kind was he; and now, when he is gone, all find so much to lo=
ve and
praise and honor, that I am p=
roud
to have been his friend, and would rather leave my children the legacy he leaves his than the
largest fortune ever made. Yes! Simple,
generous goodness is the best capital to found the business of this life upon. It lasts when f=
ame
and money fail, and is the only riches
we can take out of this world with us. Remember that, my boys; and if you want to earn resp=
ect
and confidence and love follo=
w in
the footsteps of John Brooke."
When Demi returned to school, after some w=
eeks
at home, he seemed to have
recovered from his loss with the blessed elasticity of childhood, and so he had in a
measure; but he did not forget, for
his was a nature into which things sank deeply, to be pondered over, and absorbed into the soil w=
here
the small virtues were growing
fast. He played and studied, worked and sang, just as before, and few suspected any chan=
ge;
but there was one and Aunt Jo=
saw
it for she watched over the boy with her whole heart, trying to fill John's place in her poor w=
ay. He
seldom spoke of his loss, but=
Aunt
Jo often heard a stifled sobbing in the little bed at night; and when she went to comfort him, =
all
his cry was, "I want my =
father!
oh, I want my father!" for the tie between the two had been a very tender one, and the child's=
heart
bled when it was broken. But =
time
was kind to him, and slowly he came to feel that father was not lost, only invisible for a
while, and sure to be found again, <=
/span>well
and strong and fond as ever, even though his little son should see the purple asters blossom on h=
is
grave many, many times before=
they
met. To this belief Demi held fast, and in it found both help and comfort, because it led h=
im
unconsciously through a tender
longing for the father whom he had seen to a childlike trust in the Father whom he had not seen=
. Both
were in heaven, and he prayed=
to
both, trying to be good for love of them.
The outward change corresponded to the inw=
ard,
for in those few weeks Demi s=
eemed
to have grown tall, and began to drop his&=
nbsp;
childish plays, not as if ashamed of them, as some boys do, but as if he had outgrown them, and wanted
something manlier. He took to=
the
hated arithmetic, and held on so steadily that his uncle was charmed, though he could not under=
stand
the whim, until Demi said,
"I am going to be a bookkeeper when I
grow up, like papa, and I mus=
t know
about figures and things, else I can't have nice, neat ledgers like his."
At another time he came to his aunt with a
very serious face, and said <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"What can a small boy do to earn
money?"
"Why do you ask, my deary?"
"My father told me to take care of mo=
ther
and the little girls, and I w=
ant
to, but I don't know how to begin."
"He did not mean now, Demi, but by and
by, when you are large."
"But I wish to begin now, if I can,
because I think I ought to make some
money to buy things for the family. I am ten, and other boys no bigger than I earn pennies
sometimes."
"Well, then, suppose you rake up all =
the
dead leaves and cover the str=
awberry
bed. I'll pay you a dollar for the job," said Aunt Jo.
"Isn't that a great deal? I could do =
it
in one day. You must be fair, and
no pay too much, because I want to truly earn it."
"My little John, I will be fair, and =
not
pay a penny too much. Don't w=
ork
too hard; and when that is done I will have something else for you to do," said Mrs. Jo,=
much
touched by his desire to help, and
his sense of justice, so like his scrupulous father.
When the leaves were done, many barrowload=
s of
chips were wheeled from the w=
ood to
the shed, and another dollar earned.
Then Demi helped cover the schoolbooks, working in the evenings under Franz's direction, tugging
patiently away at each book, =
letting
no one help, and receiving his wages with such satisfaction that the dingy bills became quite
glorified in his sight.
"Now, I have a dollar for each of the=
m,
and I should like to take my =
money
to mother all myself, so she can see that I have minded my father."
So Demi made a duteous pilgrimage to his
mother, who received his litt=
le
earnings as a treasure of great worth, and would have kept it untouched, if Demi had not begg=
ed her
to buy some useful thing for
herself and the women-children, whom he felt were left to his care.
This made him very happy, and, though he o=
ften
forgot his responsibilities f=
or a
time, the desire to help was still there,&=
nbsp;
strengthening with his years. He always uttered the words "my father" with an air of gentle
pride, and often said, as if he claimed&nb=
sp;
a title full of honor, "Don't call me Demi any more. I am John<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Brooke now." So, strengthened=
by a
purpose and a hope, the little lad
of ten bravely began the world, and entered into his inheritance, the memory of a wise =
and
tender father, the legacy of =
an
honest name.
With the October frosts came the cheery fi=
res
in the great fireplaces; and =
Demi's
dry pine-chips helped Dan's oak-knots to&n=
bsp;
blaze royally, and go roaring up the chimney with a jolly sound. All were glad to gather round the
hearth, as the evenings grew =
longer,
to play games, read, or lay plans for the winter. But the favorite amusement was story-telli=
ng,
and Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer were
expected to have a store of lively tales always on hand. Their supply occasionally gave out, and =
then
the boys were thrown upon the=
ir own
resources, which were not always successful. Ghost-parties were the rage at one=
time;
for the fun of the thing cons=
isted
in putting out the lights, letting the fire die down, and then sitting in the dark, and tell=
ing
the most awful tales they could invent.
As this resulted in scares of all sorts among the boys, Tommy's walking in his sleep on th=
e shed
roof, and a general state of
nervousness in the little ones, it was forbidden, and they fell back on more harmless amusements. =
One evening, when the small boys were snug=
ly
tucked in bed, and the older =
lads
were lounging about the school-room fire, trying to decide what they should do, Demi
suggested a new way of settling the
question.
Seizing the hearth-brush, he marched up and
down the room, saying, "=
Row,
row, row;" and when the boys, laughing and pushing, had got into line, he sai=
d,
"Now, I'll give you two minutes
to think of a play." Franz was writing, and Emil reading the Li=
fe
of Lord Nelson, and neither j=
oined
the party, but the others thought =
span>hard,
and when the time was up were ready to reply.
"Now, Tom!" and the poker softly
rapped him on the head.
"Blind-man's Buff."
"Jack!"
"Commerce; a good round game, and have
cents for the pool."
"Uncle forbids our playing for money.
Dan, what do you want?" <=
/span>
"Let's have a battle between the Gree=
ks
and Romans."
"Stuffy?"
"Roast apples, pop corn, and crack
nuts."
"Good! good!" cried several; and
when the vote was taken, Stuffy's =
span>proposal
carried the day.
Some went to the cellar for apples, some to
the garret for nuts, and othe=
rs
looked up the popper and the corn.
"We had better ask the girls to come =
in,
hadn't we?" said Demi, in a
sudden fit of politeness.
"Daisy pricks chestnuts
beautifully," put in Nat, who wanted his little friend to share the fun.
"Nan pops corn tip-top, we must have
her," added Tommy.
"Bring in your sweethearts then, we d=
on't
mind," said Jack, who la=
ughed
at the innocent regard the little people had for one another.
"You shan't call my sister a sweethea=
rt;
it is so silly!" cried Demi, =
span>in
a way that made Jack laugh. =
span>
"She is Nat's darling, isn't she, old
chirper?"
"Yes, if Demi don't mind. I can't help
being fond of her, she is so =
good
to me," answered Nat, with bashful earnestness, for Jack's rough ways disturbed him.
"Nan is my sweetheart, and I shall ma=
rry
her in about a year, so don't=
you
get in the way, any of you," said Tommy, stoutly; for he and Nan had settled their future,
child-fashion, and were to live in <=
/span>the
willow, lower down a basket for food, and do other charmingly impossible things.
Demi was quenched by the decision of Bangs,
who took him by the arm and w=
alked
him off to get the ladies. Nan and Daisy were sewing with Aunt Jo on certain sma=
ll
garments, for Mrs. Carney's n=
ewest
baby.
"Please, ma'am, could you lend us the
girls for a little while? We'll be
very careful of them," said Tommy, winking one eye to express apples, snapping his fingers to si=
gnify
pop-corn, and gnashing his te=
eth to
convey the idea of nut-cracking.
The girls understood this pantomime at onc=
e,
and began to pull of their th=
imbles
before Mrs. Jo could decide whether Tommy was going into convulsions or was brew=
ing
some unusual piece of mischie=
f.
Demi explained with elaboration, permission was readily granted, and the boys departed with
their prize.
"Don't you speak to Jack," whisp=
ered
Tommy, as he and Nan promenad=
ed
down the hall to get a fork to prick the apples.
"Why not?"
"He laughs at me, so I don't wish you=
to
have any thing to do with him=
."
"Shall, if I like," said Nan,
promptly resenting this premature =
span>assumption
of authority on the part of her lord.
"Then I won't have you for my
sweetheart."
"I don't care."
"Why, Nan, I thought you were fond of=
me!"
and Tommy's voice was full of
tender reproach.
"If you mind Jack's laughing I don't =
care
for you one bit." =
"Then you may take back your old ring=
; I
won't wear it any longer;&quo=
t; and
Tommy plucked off a horsehair pledge of affection which Nan had given him in return =
for
one made of a lobster's feele=
r.
"I shall give it to Ned," was her
cruel reply; for Ned liked Mrs. Giddy-gaddy,
and had turned her clothespins, boxes, and spools enough to set up housekeeping with=
.
Tommy said, "Thunder turtles!" as
the only vent equal to the pe=
nt-up
anguish of the moment, and, dropping Nan's arm, retired in high dudgeon, leaving her to fo=
llow
with the fork, a neglect which
naughty Nan punished by proceeding to prick his heart with jealousy as if it were another sor=
t of
apple.
The hearth was swept, and the rosy Baldwins
put down to roast. A shovel w=
as
heated, and the chestnuts danced merrily upon it, while the corn popped wildly in its wire
prison. Dan cracked his best =
walnuts,
and every one chattered and laughed, while the rain beat on the window-pane and the wind ho=
wled
round the house.
"Why is Billy like this nut?" as=
ked
Emil, who was frequently insp=
ired
with bad conundrums.
"Because he is cracked," answered
Ned.
"That's not fair; you mustn't make fu=
n of
Billy, because he can't hit b=
ack
again. It's mean," cried Dan, smashing a nut wrathfully.
"To what family of insects does Blake
belong?" asked peacemaker Franz,
seeing that Emil looked ashamed and Dan lowering.
"Gnats," answered Jack.
"Why is Daisy like a bee?" cried
Nat, who had been wrapt in th=
ought
for several minutes.
"Because she is queen of the hive,&qu=
ot;
said Dan.
"No."
"Because she is sweet."
"Bees are not sweet."
"Give it up."
"Because she makes sweet things, is
always busy, and likes flower=
s,"
said Nat, piling up his boyish compliments till Daisy blushed like a rosy clover.
"Why is Nan like a hornet?" dema=
nded
Tommy, glowering at her, and
adding, without giving any one time to answer, "Because she isn't sweet, makes a great buzzing=
about
nothing, and stings like fury=
."
"Tommy's mad, and I'm glad," cri=
ed
Ned, as Nan tossed her head a=
nd
answered quickly
"What thing in the china-closet is Tom
like?"
"A pepper pot," answered Ned, gi=
ving
Nan a nut meat with a tantali=
zing
laugh that made Tommy feel as if he would like to bounce up like a hot chestnut and =
hit
somebody.
Seeing that ill-humor was getting the bett=
er
of the small supply of wit in=
the
company, Franz cast himself into the breach again.
"Let's make a law that the first pers=
on
who comes into the room shall=
tell
us a story. No matter who it is, he must do it, and it will be fun to see who comes first.&quo=
t;
The others agreed, and did not have to wait
long, for a heavy step soon c=
ame
clumping through the hall, and Silas appeared, bearing an armful of wood. He was greeted =
by a
general shout, and stood star=
ing
about him with a bewildered grin on his big red face, till Franz explained the joke.
"Sho! I can't tell a story," he
said, putting down his load and preparing
to leave the room. But the boys fell upon him, forced him into a seat, and held him ther=
e,
laughing, and clamoring for t=
heir
story, till the good-natured giant was overpowered.
"I don't know but jest one story, and
that's about a horse," he said,
much flattered by the reception he received.
"Tell it! tell it!" cried the bo=
ys.
"Wal," began Silas, tipping his
chair back against the wall, and putting
his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, "I jined a cavalry regiment durin' the war, a=
nd see
a consid'able amount of fight=
in'.
My horse, Major, was a fust-rate animal, and I was as fond on him as ef he'd ben a human crit=
ter.
He warn't harnsome, but he wa=
s the
best-tempered, stiddyest, lovenest brute I ever see. I fust battle we went into, he gave me a =
lesson
that I didn't forgit in a hur=
ry,
and I'll tell you how it was. It ain't no use tryin' to picter the noise and hurry, and general horri=
dness
of a battle to you young fell=
ers,
for I ain't no words to do it in; but I'm free to confess that I got so sort of confused and upset =
at the
fust on it, that I didn't know what
I was about. We was ordered to charge, and went ahead like good ones, never stoppin' to pick =
up
them that went down in the sc=
rimmage.
I got a shot in the arm, and was pitched out of the saddle don't know how, but there I=
was
left behind with two or three
others, dead and wounded, for the rest went on, as I say. Wal, I picked myself up and looked roun=
d for
Major, feeling as ef I'd had =
about
enough for that spell. I didn't see him nowhere, and was kinder walking back to camp, when I
heard a whinny that sounded n=
ateral.
I looked round, and there was Major stopping for me a long way off, and lookin' as ef he
didn't understand why I was l=
oiterin'
behind. I whistled, and he trotted up to me as I'd trained him to do. I mounted as well as I =
could
with my left arm bleedin' and=
was
for going on to camp, for I declare I felt as sick and wimbly as a woman; folks often do =
in
their fust battle. But, no sir! Major
was the bravest of the two, and he wouldn't go, not a peg; he jest rared up, and danced, and sno=
rted,
and acted as ef the smell of =
powder
and the noise had drove him half wild. I done my best, but he wouldn't give in, so I did; and=
what
do you think that plucky brute
done? He wheeled slap round, and galloped back like a hurricane, right into the thickest=
of
the scrimmage!"
"Good for him!" cried Dan excite=
dly,
while the other boys forgot a=
pples
and nuts in their interest. =
span>
"I wish I may die ef I warn't ashamed=
of
myself," continued Silas, warming
up at the recollection of that day. "I was mad as a hornet, and I forgot my waound, and jest p=
itched
in, rampagin' raound like fur=
y till
there come a shell into the midst of us, and in bustin' knocked a lot of us flat. I didn't=
know
nothin' for a spell, and when I
come-to, the fight was over just there, and I found myself layin' by a wall of poor Major long-side =
wuss
wounded than I was. My leg was
broke, and I had a ball in my shoulder, but he, poor old feller! was all tore in the side w=
ith a
piece of that blasted shell."
"O Silas! what did you do?" cried
Nan, pressing close to him with a
face full of eager sympathy and interest.
"I dragged myself nigher, and tried to
stop the bleedin' with sech r=
ags as
I could tear off of me with one hand. But it warn't no use, and he lay moanin' with horrid pai=
n, and
lookin' at me with them lovin=
' eyes
of his, till I thought I couldn't bear it. I give him all the help I could, and when the sun got
hotter and hotter, and he began to
lap out his tongue, I tried to get to a brook that was a good piece away, but I couldn't do it, being =
stiff
and faint, so I give it up and fanned
him with my hat. Now you listen to this, and when you hear folks comin' down on the rebs, you=
jest
remember what one on 'em did,=
and
give him credit of it. I poor feller in gray laid not fur off, shot through the lungs and dyin' f=
ast.
I'd offered him my handkerchi=
ef to
keep the sun off his face, and he'd thanked me kindly, for in sech times as that =
men
don't stop to think on which =
side
they belong, but jest buckle-to and help one another. When he see me mournin' over Major and try=
in' to
ease his pain, he looked up w=
ith his
face all damp and white with sufferin', and sez he, 'There's water in my canteen; take=
it,
for it can't help me,' and he flung
it to me. I couldn't have took it ef I hadn't had a little brandy in a pocket flask, and I made him =
drink
it. It done him good, and I f=
elt as
much set up as if I'd drunk it myself. It's surprisin' the good sech little things do folks
sometime;" and Silas paused as if he felt again the comfort of that moment w=
hen he
and his enemy forgot their fe=
ud,
and helped one another like brothers.
"Tell about Major," cried the bo=
ys,
impatient for the catastrophe.
"I poured the water over his poor pan=
tin'
tongue, and ef ever a dumb cr=
itter
looked grateful, he did then. But it warn't of much use, for the dreadful waound kep o=
n tormentin'
him, till I couldn't bear it =
any
longer. It was hard, but I done it in mercy, and I know he forgive me."
"What did you do?" asked Emil, as
Silas stopped abruptly with a loud
"hem," and a look in his rough face that made Daisy go and stand by him with her little hand =
on his
knee.
"I shot him."
Quite a thrill went through the listeners =
as
Silas said that, for Major se=
emed a
hero in their eyes, and his tragic end roused all their sympathy.
"Yes, I shot him, and put him out of =
his
misery. I patted him fust, and
said, 'Good-by;' then I laid his head easy on the grass, give a last look into his lovin' eyes, an=
d sent
a bullet through his head. He hardly
stirred, I aimed so true, and when I seen him quite still, with no more moanin' and pain, I was gl=
ad,
and yet wal, I don't know as =
I need
by ashamed on't I jest put my arms raound his neck and boo-hooed like a great baby. Sho! I
didn't know I was sech a fool;"
and Silas drew his sleeve across his eyes, as much touched by Daisy's sob, as by the memory of
faithful Major.
No one spoke for a minute, because the boys
were as quick to feel the pat=
hos of
the little story as tender-hearted Daisy, though they did not show it by crying.
"I'd like a horse like that," sa=
id
Dan, half-aloud.
"Did the rebel man die, too?" as=
ked
Nan, anxiously.
"Not then. We laid there all day, and=
at
night some of our fellers cam=
e to
look after the missing ones. They nat'rally wanted to take me fust, but I knew I could wait, =
and
the rebel had but one chance, maybe,
so I made them carry him off right away. He had jest strength enough to hold out his ha=
nd to
me and say, 'Thanky, comrade!=
' and
them was the last words he spoke, for he died an hour after he got to the
hospital-tent."
"How glad you must have been that you
were kind to him!" said =
Demi,
who was deeply impressed by this story.
"Wal, I did take comfort thinkin' of =
it,
as I laid there alone for a n=
umber
of hours with my head on Major's neck, and see the moon come up. I'd like to have buried t=
he
poor beast decent, but it warn't possible;
so I cut off a bit of his mane, and I've kep it ever sence. Want to see it, sissy?"
"Oh, yes, please," answered Dais=
y,
wiping away her tears to look.
Silas took out an old "wallet" a=
s he
called his pocket-book, and p=
roduced
from an inner fold a bit of brown paper, in which was a rough lock of white horse-hair. The
children looked at it silently, as
it lay in the broad palm, and no one found any thing to ridicule in the love Silas bore his good ho=
rse
Major.
"That is a sweet story, and I like it,
though it did make me cry. Th=
ank
you very much, Si," and Daisy helped him fold and put away his little relic; while Nan s=
tuffed
a handful of pop-corn into his
pocket, and the boys loudly expressed their flattering opinions of his story, feeling that there h=
ad
been two heroes in it. =
He departed, quite overcome by his honors,=
and
the little conspirators talke=
d the
tale over, while they waited for their next victim. It was Mrs. Jo, who came i=
n to
measure Nan for some new pina=
fores
she was making for her. They let her get well in, and then pounced upon her, telling her=
the
law, and demanding the story.=
Mrs.
Jo was very much amused at the new trap, and consented at once, for the sound of
happy voices had been coming =
across
the hall so pleasantly that she quite longed to join them, and forget her own anxious thoughts of
Sister Meg.
"Am I the first mouse you have caught,
you sly pussies-in-boots?" she
asked, as she was conducted to the big chair, supplied with refreshments, and surrounded by a =
flock
of merry-faced listeners.
They told her about Silas and his
contribution, and she slapped her =
span>forehead
in despair, for she was quite at her wits' end, being called upon so unexpectedly for a bran new
tale.
"What shall I tell about?" she s=
aid.
"Boys," was the general answer. =
"Have a party in it," said Daisy=
.
"And something good to eat," add=
ed
Stuffy.
"That reminds me of a story, written
years ago, by a dear old lady. I
used to be very fond of it, and I fancy you will like it, for it has both boys, and 'something good to =
eat'
in it."
"What is it called?" asked Demi.=
"'The Suspected Boy.' "
Nat looked up from the nuts he was picking, and Mrs. Jo smiled at him, gu= essing what was in his mind. <= o:p>
"Miss Crane kept a school for boys in=
a
quiet little town, and a very=
good
school it was, of the old-fashioned sort. Six boys lived in her house, and four or five mor=
e came
in from the town. Among those=
who
lived with her was one named Lewis White. Lewis was not a bad boy, but rather timid, a=
nd now
and then he told a lie. One d=
ay a
neighbor sent Miss Crane a basket of gooseberries. There were not enough to go round, so ki=
nd
Miss Crane, who liked to plea=
se her
boys, went to work and made a dozen nice little gooseberry tarts."
"I'd like to try gooseberry tarts. I
wonder if she made them as I do my
raspberry ones," said Daisy, whose interest in cooking had lately revived.
"Hush," said Nat, tucking a plump
pop-corn into her mouth to si=
lence
her, for he felt a particular interest in this tale, and thought it opened well.
"When the tarts were done, Miss Crane=
put
them away in the best parlor
closet, and said not a word about them, for she wanted to surprise the boys at tea-time. Whe=
n the
minute came and all were seat=
ed at
table, she went to get her tarts, but came back looking much troubled, for what do you thi=
nk had
happened?"
"Somebody had hooked them!" cried
Ned.
"No, there they were, but some one had
stolen all the fruit out of t=
hem by
lifting up the upper crust and then putting it down after the gooseberry had been scraped
out."
"What a mean trick!" and Nan loo=
ked
at Tommy, as if to imply that=
he
would do the same.
"When she told the boys her plan and
showed them the poor little p=
atties
all robbed of their sweetness, the boys were much grieved and disappointed, and all declared=
that
they knew nothing about the m=
atter.
'Perhaps the rats did it,' said Lewis, who was among the loudest to deny any knowledge of t=
he
tarts. 'No, rats would have n=
ibbled
crust and all, and never lifted it up and scooped out the fruit. Hands did that,' said Miss =
Crane,
who was more troubled about t=
he lie
that some one must have told than about her lost patties. Well, they had supper and=
went
to bed, but in the night Miss=
Crane
heard some one groaning, and going to see who it was she found Lewis in great pain. He =
had
evidently eaten something that
disagreed with him, and was so sick that Miss Crane was alarmed, and was going to send for=
the
doctor, when Lewis moaned out,
'It's the gooseberries; I ate them, and I must tell before I die,' for the thought of a doctor
frightened him. 'If that is all, I'll
give you an emetic and you will soon get over it,' said Miss Crane.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> So Lewis had a good dose, and by m=
orning
was quite comfortable. 'Oh, d=
on't
tell the boys; they will laugh at me so,' begged the invalid. Kind Miss Crane promised =
not
to, but Sally, the girl, told the
story, and poor Lewis had no peace for a long time. His mates called him Old Gooseberry, and were
never tired of asking him the price
of tarts."
"Served him right," said Emil. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"Badness always gets found out,"
added Demi, morally.
"No, it don't," muttered Jack, w=
ho
was tending the apples with g=
reat
devotion, so that he might keep his back to the rest and account for his red face.
"Is that all?" asked Dan.
"No, that is only the first part; the
second part is more interesting. Some
time after this a peddler came by one day and stopped to show his things to the boys, sever=
al of
whom bought pocket-combs,
jew's-harps, and various trifles of that sort. Among the knives was a little white-hand=
led
penknife that Lewis wanted ve=
ry
much, but he had spent all his pocket-money, and no one had any to lend him. He held the knife=
in
his hand, admiring and longin=
g for
it, till the man packed up his goods to go, then he reluctantly laid it down, and the =
man
went on his way. The next day,
however, the peddler returned to say that he could not find that very knife, and thought he mu=
st
have left it at Miss Crane's. It was
a very nice one with a pearl handle, and he could not afford to lose it. Every one looked, and eve=
ry one
declared they knew nothing ab=
out it.
'This young gentleman had it last, and seemed to want it very much. Are you quite s=
ure
you put it back?' said the ma=
n to
Lewis, who was much troubled at the loss, and vowed over and over again that he did return =
it.
His denials seemed to do no g=
ood,
however, for every one was sure he had taken it, and after a stormy scene Miss Crane paid for i=
t, and
the man went grumbling away.&=
quot;
"Did Lewis have it?" cried Nat, =
much
excited.
"You will see. Now poor Lewis had ano=
ther
trial to bear, for the boys w=
ere
constantly saying, 'Lend me your pearl-handled knife, Gooseberry,' and things of that so=
rt,
till Lewis was so unhappy he =
begged
to be sent home. Miss Crane did her best to keep the boys quiet, but it was hard work, for t=
hey
would tease, and she could not be
with them all the time. That is one of the hardest things to teach boys; they won't 'hit a fellow whe=
n he
is down,' as they say, but th=
ey
will torment him in little ways till he would thank them to fight it out all round."
"I know that," said Dan.
"So do I," added Nat, softly.
Jack said nothing, but he quite agreed; fo=
r he
knew that the elder boys desp=
ised
him, and let him alone for that very reason.
"Do go on about poor Lewis, Aunt Jo. I
don't believe he took the kni=
fe, but
I want to be sure," said Daisy, in great anxiety.
"Well, week after week went on and the
matter was not cleared up. Th=
e boys
avoided Lewis, and he, poor fellow, was almost sick with the trouble he had brought upon hi=
mself.
He resolved never to tell ano=
ther
lie, and tried so hard that Miss Crane pitied and helped him, and really came at last to be=
lieve
that he did not take the knif=
e. Two
months after the peddler's first visit, he came again, and the first thing he said was
"'Well, ma'am, I found that knife aft=
er
all. It had slipped behind the lining
of my valise, and fell out the other day when I was putting in a new stock of goods. I thought I'=
d call
and let you know, as you paid=
for
it, and maybe would like it, so here it is.' "
"The boys had all gathered round, and=
at
these words they felt much as=
hamed,
and begged Lewis' pardon so heartily that he could not refuse to give it. Miss Crane
presented the knife to him, and he <=
/span>kept
it many years to remind him of the fault that had brought him so much trouble."
"I wonder why it is that things you e=
at
on the sly hurt you, and don'=
t when
you eat them at table," observed Stuffy, thoughtfully.
"Perhaps your conscience affects your
stomach," said Mrs. Jo, =
smiling
at his speech.
"He is thinking of the cucumbers,&quo=
t;
said Ned, and a gale of merri=
ment
followed the words, for Stuffy's last mishap had been a funny one.
He ate two large cucumbers in private, felt
very ill, and confided his an=
guish
to Ned, imploring him to do something. Ned=
good-naturedly recommended a mustard plaster and a hot flat iron to the feet; only in applying these
remedies he reversed the order of
things, and put the plaster on the feet, the flat iron on the stomach, and poor Stuffy was found=
in
the barn with blistered soles=
and a
scorched jacket.
"Suppose you tell another story, that=
was
such an interesting one," said
Nat, as the laughter subsided.
Before Mrs. Jo could refuse these insatiab=
le
Oliver Twists, Rob walked int=
o the
room trailing his little bed-cover after him, and wearing an expression of great swe=
etness
as he said, steering straight=
to
his mother as a sure haven of refuge,
"I heard a great noise, and I thought
sumfin dreffle might have hap=
pened,
so I came to see."
"Did you think I would forget you, naughty boy?" asked his = mother, trying to look stern. <= o:p>
"No; but I thought you'd feel better =
to
see me right here," resp=
onded
the insinuating little party.
"I had much rather see you in bed, so
march straight up again, Robi=
n."
"Everybody that comes in here has to =
tell
a story, and you can't so you=
'd
better cut and run," said Emil.
"Yes, I can! I tell Teddy lots of one=
s,
all about bears and moons, and
little flies that say things when they buzz," protested Rob, bound to stay at any price.
"Tell one now, then, right away,"
said Dan, preparing to shoulder and
bear him off.
"Well, I will; let me fink a
minute," and Rob climbed into his&nbs=
p;
mother's lap, where he was cuddled, with the remark
"It is a family failing, this getting=
out
of bed at wrong times. Demi u=
sed to
do it; and as for me, I was hopping in and out all night long. Meg used to think the house =
was on
fire, and send me down to see=
, and
I used to stay and enjoy myself, as you mean to, my bad son."
"I've finked now," observed Rob,
quite at his ease, and eager to win
the entree into this delightful circle.
Every one looked and listened with faces f=
ull
of suppressed merriment as Ro=
b,
perched on his mother's knee and wrapped in the gay coverlet, told the followi=
ng
brief but tragic tale with an earnestness
that made it very funny:
"Once a lady had a million children, =
and
one nice little boy. She went
up-stairs and said, 'You mustn't go in the yard.' But he wented, and fell into the pump, an=
d was
drowned dead."
"Is that all?" asked Franz, as R=
ob
paused out of breath with this startling
beginning.
"No, there is another piece of it,&qu=
ot;
and Rob knit his downy eyebro=
ws in
the effort to evolve another inspiration.
"What did the lady do when he fell in=
to
the pump?" asked his mot=
her,
to help him on.
"Oh, she pumped him up, and wrapped h=
im
in a newspaper, and put him o=
n a
shelf to dry for seed." <=
/span>
A general explosion of laughter greeted th=
is
surprising conclusion, and Mr=
s. Jo
patted the curly head, as she said, solemnly,
"My son, you inherit your mother's gi=
ft
of story-telling. Go where gl=
ory
waits thee."
"Now I can stay, can't I? Wasn't it a
good story?" cried Rob, in high
feather at his superb success.
"You can stay till you have eaten the=
se
twelve pop-corns," said his mother,
expecting to see them vanish at one mouthful.
But Rob was a shrewd little man, and got t=
he
better of her by eating them =
one by
one very slowly, and enjoying every minute=
with all his might.
"Hadn't you better tell the other sto=
ry,
while you wait for him?" said
Demi, anxious that no time should be lost.
"I really have nothing but a little t=
ale
about a wood-box," said Mrs. =
span>Jo,
seeing that Rob had still seven corns to eat.
"Is there a boy in it?"
"It is all boy."
"Is it true?" asked Demi.
"Every bit of it."
"Goody! tell on, please."
"James Snow and his mother lived in a
little house, up in New Hamps=
hire.
They were poor, and James had to work to help his mother, but he loved books so well=
he
hated work, and just wanted t=
o sit
and study all day long."
"How could he! I hate books, and like
work," said Dan, objecting to
James at the very outset.
"It takes all sorts of people to make=
a
world; workers and students b=
oth
are needed, and there is room for all. But I think the workers should study some, and the students
should know how to work if ne=
cessary,"
answered Mrs. Jo, looking from Dan to Demi with a significant expression.
"I'm sure I do work," and Demi
showed three small hard spots in his
little palm, with pride.
"And I'm sure I study," added Da=
n,
nodding with a groan toward t=
he
blackboard full of neat figures.
"See what James did. He did not mean =
to
be selfish, but his mother was
proud of him, and let him do as he liked, working by herself that he might have books and time =
to
read them. One autumn James w=
anted
to go to school, and went to the minister to see if he would help him, about decent cloth=
es and
books. Now the minister had h=
eard
the gossip about James's idleness, and was not inclined to do much for him, thinking that =
a boy
who neglected his mother, and=
let
her slave for him, was not likely to do very well even at school. But the good man felt more
interested when he found how =
earnest
James was, and being rather an odd man, he made this proposal to the boy, to try now si=
ncere
he was.
"'I will give you clothes and books on
one condition, James.' =
"'What is that, sir?' and the boy
brightened up at once. =
"'You are to keep your mother's wood-=
box
full all winter long, and do =
it
yourself. If you fail, school stops.' James laughed at the queer condition and readily agreed to it,
thinking it a very easy one. <=
/span>
"He began school, and for a time got =
on capitally
with the wood-box, for it was
autumn, and chips and brushwood were
plentiful. He ran out morning and evening and got a basket full, or<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> chopped up the cat sticks for the =
little
cooking stove, and as his mot=
her
was careful and saving, the task was not hard. But in November the frost came, the days =
were
dull and cold, and wood went =
fast.
His mother bought a load with her own earnings, but it seemed to melt away, and was nearly
gone, before James remembered=
that
he was to get the next. Mrs. Snow was feeble and lame with rheumatism, and unable t=
o work
as she had done, so James had=
to
put down the books, and see what he could do.
"It was hard, for he was going on wel=
l,
and so interested in his less=
ons
that he hated to stop except for food and sleep. But he knew the minister would keep his w=
ord,
and much against his will Jam=
es set
about earning money in his spare hours, lest the wood-box should get empty. He did =
all
sorts of things, ran errands, took
care of a neighbor's cow, helped the old sexton dust and warm the church on Sundays, and in thes=
e ways
got enough to buy fuel in sma=
ll
quantities. But it was hard work; the days were short, the winter was bitterly cold, and prec=
ious
time went fast, and the dear =
books
were so fascinating, that it was sad to leave them, for dull duties that never seemed done.
"The minister watched him quietly, and
seeing that he was in earnest
helped him without his knowledge. He met him often driving the wood sleds from the fo=
rest,
where the men were chopping a=
nd as
James plodded beside the slow oxen, he read or studied, anxious to use every minu=
te.
'The boy is worth helping, th=
is
lesson will do him good, and when he has learned it, I will give him an easier one,' said the
minister to himself, and on C=
hristmas
eve a splendid load of wood was quietly dropped at the door of the little house, with a n=
ew saw
and a bit of paper, saying on=
ly
"'The Lord helps those who help
themselves.'
"Poor James expected nothing, but whe=
n he
woke on that cold Christmas
morning, he found a pair of warm mittens, knit by his mother, with her stiff painful fin=
gers.
This gift pleased him very mu=
ch,
but her kiss and tender look as she called him her 'good son,' was better still. In trying to kee=
p her
warm, he had warmed his own h=
eart,
you see, and in filling the wood-box he had also filled those months with duties faithfully
done. He began to see this, to feel
that there was something better than books, and to try to learn the lessons God set him, as well as
those his school-master gave.
"When he saw the great pile of oak and
pine logs at his door, and re=
ad the
little paper, he knew who sent it, and understood the minister's plan; thanked him for i=
t, and
fell to work with all his mig=
ht.
Other boys frolicked that day, but James sawed wood, and I think of all the lads in the town =
the
happiest was the one in the n=
ew
mittens, who whistled like a blackbird as he filled his mother's wood-box."
"That's a first rater!" cried Da=
n,
who enjoyed a simple matter-o=
f-face
story better than the finest fairy tale; "I like that fellow after all."
"I could saw wood for you, Aunt Jo!&q=
uot;
said Demi, feeling as if a new
means of earning money for his mother was suggested by the story.
"Tell about a bad boy. I like them best," said Nan. <= o:p>
"You'd better tell about a naughty
cross-patch of a girl," said =
span>Tommy,
whose evening had been spoilt by Nan's unkindness. It made his apple taste bitter, his
pop-corn was insipid, his nuts were
hard to crack, and the sight of Ned and Nan on one bench made him feel his life a burden.
But there were no more stories from Mrs. J=
o,
for on looking down at Rob he=
was
discovered to be fast asleep with his last corn firmly clasped in his chubby hand. Bundli=
ng him
up in his coverlet, his mother
carried him away and tucked him up with no fear of his popping out again.
"Now let's see who will come next,&qu=
ot;
said Emil, setting the door t=
emptingly
ajar.
Mary Ann passed first, and he called out to
her, but Silas had warned her=
, and
she only laughed and hurried on in spite of their enticements. Presently a door open=
ed,
and a strong voice was heard
humming in the hall
"Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten=
Dass ich so traurig bin."
"It's Uncle Fritz; all laugh loud and=
he
will be sure to come in," said
Emil.
A wild burst of laughter followed, and in =
came
Uncle Fritz, asking, "Wh=
at is
the joke, my lads?"
"Caught! caught! you can't go out till
you've told a story," cried the
boys, slamming the door.
"So! that is the joke then? Well, I h=
ave
no wish to go, it is so pleas=
ant
here, and I pay my forfeit at once," which he did by sitting down and beginning instantly
"A long time ago your Grandfather, De=
mi,
went to lecture in a great to=
wn,
hoping to get some money for a home for little orphans that some good people were getting=
up.
His lecture did well, and he =
put a
considerable sum of money in his pocket, feeling very happy about it. As he was driving =
in a
chaise to another town, he ca=
me to
a lonely bit of road, late in the afternoon, and was just thinking what a good place it was =
for
robbers when he saw a bad-loo=
king
man come out of the woods in front of him and go slowly along as if waiting till he=
came
up. The thought of the money =
made
Grandfather rather anxious, and at first he had a mind to turn round and drive away. But =
the
horse was tired, and then he =
did
not like to suspect the man, so he kept on, and when he got nearer and saw how poor and sick a=
nd
ragged the stranger looked, h=
is
heart reproached him, and stopping, he said in a kind voice
"'My friend, you look tired; let me g=
ive
you a lift.' The man seemed s=
urprised,
hesitated a minute, and then got in. He did not seem inclined to talk, but Grandfather =
kept
on in his wise, cheerful way, speaking
of what a hard year it had been, how much the poor had suffered, and how difficult it was=
to
get on sometimes. The man slo=
wly
softened a little, and won by the kind chat, told his story. How he had been sick, could get no=
work,
had a family of children, and=
was
almost in despair. Grandfather was so full of pity that he forgot his fear, and, asking the m=
an his
name, said he would try to ge=
t him
work in the next town, as he had friends there. Wishing to get at pencil and paper to write d=
own
the address, Grandfather took=
out
his plump pocket-book, and the minute he did so, the man's eye was on it. Then Grandfat=
her
remembered what was in it and
trembled for his money, but said quietly
"'Yes, I have a little sum here for s=
ome
poor orphans. I wish it was m=
y own,
I would so gladly give you some of it. I am not rich, but I know many of the trials of the poo=
r;
this five dollars is mine, and I want
to give it to you for your children.'
"The hard, hungry look in the man's e=
yes
changed to a grateful one as =
he
took the small sum, freely given, and left the orphans' money untouched. He rode on with Grandfa=
ther
till they approached the town=
, then
he asked to be set down. Grandpa shook hands with him, and was about to drive on, wh=
en the
man said, as if something mad=
e him,
'I was desperate when we met, and I meant&=
nbsp;
to rob you, but you were so kind I couldn't do it. God bless you, si=
r, for keeping me from it!' "
"Did Grandpa ever see him again?" asked Daisy, eagerly. <= o:p>
"No; but I believe the man found work,
and did not try robbery any m=
ore."
"That was a curious way to treat him;=
I'd
have knocked him down," =
said
Dan.
"Kindness is always better than force.
Try it and see," answered Mr.
Bhaer, rising.
"Tell another, please," cried Da=
isy.
"You must, Aunt Jo did," added D=
emi.
"Then I certainly won't, but keep my
others for next time. Too many
tales are as bad as too many bonbons. I have paid my forfeit and I go," and Mr. Bhaer ran =
for
his life, with the whole flock in =
span>full
pursuit. He had the start, however, and escaped safely into his study, leaving the boys to go riot=
ing
back again.
They were so stirred up by the race that t=
hey
could not settle to their for=
mer
quiet, and a lively game of Blindman's Buff followed, in which Tommy showed that he had =
taken
the moral of the last story to
heart, for, when he caught Nan, he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry I called you a
cross-patch."
Nan was not to be outdone in kindness, so,
when they played "Button=
, button,
who's got the button?" and it was her turn to go round, she said, "Hold fast a=
ll I
give you," with such a friendly
smile at Tommy, that he was not surprised to find the horse-hair ring in his hand instead of the bu=
tton.
He only smiled back at her th=
en,
but when they were going to bed, he offered Nan the best bite of his last apple; she saw the rin=
g on
his stumpy little finger, acc=
epted
the bite, and peace was declared. Both were ashamed of the temporary coldness, neither was
ashamed to say, "I was wrong, <=
/span>forgive
me," so the childish friendship remained unbroken, and the home in the willow lasted long, a
pleasant little castle in the air.
This yearly festival was always kept at
Plumfield in the good old-fas=
hioned
way, and nothing was allowed to interfere with it. For days beforehand, the little gi=
rls
helped Asia and Mrs. Jo in st=
ore-room
and kitchen, making pies and puddings, sorting fruit, dusting dishes, and being very bus=
y and
immensely important. The boys
hovered on the outskirts of the forbidden ground, sniffing the savory odors, peeping in at the
mysterious performances, and =
occasionally
being permitted to taste some delicacy in the process of preparation.
Something more than usual seemed to be on =
foot
this year, for the girls were=
as
busy up-stairs as down, so were the boys in school-room and barn, and a genera=
l air
of bustle pervaded the house.=
There
was a great hunting up of old ribbons and finery, much cutting and pasting of gold p=
aper, and
the most remarkable quantity =
of
straw, gray cotton, flannel, and big black beads, used by Franz and Mrs. Jo. Ned hammered=
at
strange machines in the works=
hop,
Demi and Tommy went about murmuring to themselves as if learning something. A fearfu=
l racket
was heard in Emil's room at
intervals, and peals of laughter from the nursery when Rob and Teddy were sent for and hidden from
sight whole hours at a time. =
But
the thing that puzzled Mr. Bhaer the most was what became of Rob's big pumpkin. It had been bor=
ne in
triumph to the kitchen, where=
a
dozen golden-tinted pies soon after appeared. It would not have taken more than a quarter of =
the
mammoth vegetable to make the=
m, yet
where was the rest? It disappeared, and Rob never seemed to care, only chuckled when=
it
was mentioned, and told his f=
ather,
"To wait and see," for the fun of the whole thing was to surprise Father Bhaer at the end, =
and
not let him know a bit about =
what
was to happen.
He obediently shut eyes, ears, and mouth, =
and
went about trying not to see =
what
was in plain sight, not to hear the tell-tale sounds that filled the air, not to unders=
tand
any of the perfectly transparent mysteries
going on all about him. Being a German, he loved these simple domestic festivals, and enc=
ouraged
them with all his heart, for =
they
made home so pleasant that the boys did not care to go elsewhere for fun.
When at last the day came, the boys went o=
ff
for a long walk, that they mi=
ght
have good appetites for dinner; as if they ever needed them! The girls remained at home t=
o help
set the table, and give last
touches to various affairs which filled their busy little souls with anxiety. The school-room had =
been
shut up since the night befor=
e, and
Mr. Bhaer was forbidden to enter it on pain of a beating from Teddy, who guarded th=
e door
like a small dragon, though h=
e was
dying to tell about it, and nothing but his father's heroic self-denial in not listenin=
g,
kept him from betraying a grand secret.
"It's all done, and it's perfectly sp=
lendid,"
cried Nan, coming out at last=
with
an air of triumph.
"The you know goes beautifully, and S=
ilas
knows just what to do now,&qu=
ot;
added Daisy, skipping with delight at some unspeakable success.
"I'm blest if it ain't the 'cutest th=
ing
I ever see, them critters in =
particular,"
said Silas, who had been let into the secret, went off laughing like a great boy.
"They are coming; I hear Emil roaring
'Land lubbers lying down belo=
w,' so
we must run and dress," cried Nan, and up-stairs they scampered in a great hurry.
The boys came trooping home with appetites
that would have made the big =
turkey
tremble, if it had not been past all fear. They also retired to dress; and for
half-an-hour there was a washing, =
span>brushing,
and prinking that would have done any tidy woman's heart good to see. When the bell r=
ang, a
troop of fresh-faced lads with
shiny hair, clean collars, and Sunday jackets on, filed into the dining-room, where Mrs. Jo, in her=
one
black silk, with a knot of her
favorite white chrysanthemums in her bosom, sat at the head of the table, "looking splendid,=
"
as the boys said, whenever she got <=
/span>herself
up. Daisy and Nan were as gay as a posy bed in their new winter dresses, with bright sashes=
and
hair ribbons. Teddy was gorge=
ous to
behold in a crimson merino blouse, and his best button boots, which absorbed and distract=
ed him
as much as Mr. Toot's wristba=
nds
did on one occasion.
As Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer glanced at each other
down the long table, with tho=
se
rows of happy faces on either side, they had a little thanksgiving all to themselves, and
without a word, for one heart said
to the other,
"Our work has prospered, let us be
grateful and go on."
The clatter of knives and forks prevented =
much
conversation for a few minute=
s, and
Mary Ann with an amazing pink bow in her hair "flew round" briskly, ha=
nding
plates and ladling out gravy. Nearly
every one had contributed to the feast, so the dinner was a peculiarly interesting ones to the
eaters of it, who beguiled the pauses
by remarks on their own productions.
"If these are not good potatoes I nev=
er
saw any," observed Jack, as he
received his fourth big mealy one.
"Some of my herbs are in the stuffing=
of
the turkey, that's why it's so
nice," said Nan, taking a mouthful with intense satisfaction.
"My ducks are prime any way; Asia said
she never cooked such fat one=
s,"
added Tommy.
"Well, our carrots are beautiful, ain=
't
they, and our parsnips will be ever
so good when we dig them," put in Dick, and Dolly murmured his assent from behind th=
e bone
he was picking.
"I helped make the pies with my
pumpkin," called out Robby, with
a laugh which he stopped by retiring into his mug.
"I picked some of the apples that the
cider is made of," said Demi.
"I raked the cranberries for the
sauce," cried Nat.
"I got the nuts," added Dan, and=
so
it went on all round the table.
"Who made up Thanksgiving?" asked
Rob, for being lately promote=
d to
jacket and trousers he felt a new and manly interest in the institutions of his country. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"See who can answer that question,&qu=
ot;
and Mr. Bhaer nodded to one o=
r two
of his best history boys.
"I know," said Demi, "the
Pilgrims made it."
"What for?" asked Rob, without
waiting to learn who the Pilgrims =
span>were.
"I forget," and Demi subsided. <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>
"I believe it was because they were
starved once, and so when they had
a good harvest, they said, 'We will thank God for it,' and they had a day and called it
Thanksgiving," said Dan, who liked the story of the brave men who suffere=
d so
nobly for their faith. =
"Good! I didn't think you would remem=
ber
any thing but natural history=
,"
and Mr. Bhaer tapped gently on the table as applause for his pupil.
Dan looked pleased; and Mrs. Jo said to her
son, "Now do you underst=
and
about it, Robby?" =
"No, I don't. I thought pil-grins wer=
e a
sort of big bird that lived on rocks,
and I saw pictures of them in Demi's book."
"He means penguins. Oh, isn't he a li=
ttle
goosey!" and Demi laid b=
ack in
his chair and laughed aloud. <=
/span>
"Don't laugh at him, but tell him all
about it if you can," said Mrs.
Bhaer, consoling Rob with more cranberry sauce for the general smile that went round the table at=
his
mistake.
"Well, I will;" and, after a pau=
se
to collect his ideas, Demi de=
livered
the following sketch of the Pilgrim Fathers, which would have made even those grave gentlem=
en
smile if they could have hear=
d it.
"You see, Rob, some of the people in
England didn't like the king, or
something, so they got into ships and sailed away to this country. It was all full of Indian=
s, and
bears, and wild creatures, an=
d they
lived in forts, and had a dreadful time."
"The bears?" asked Robby, with
interest.
"No; the Pilgrims, because the Indians
troubled them. They hadn't en=
ough
to eat, and they went to church with guns, and ever so many died, and they got out of the=
ships
on a rock, and it's called Pl=
ymouth
Rock, and Aunt Jo saw it and touched it. The Pilgrims killed all the Indians, and got ri=
ch;
and hung the witches, and were very
good; and some of the greatest great-grandpas came in the ships. One was the Mayflower; and =
they
made Thanksgiving, and we hav=
e it
always, and I like it. Some more turkey, please."
"I think Demi will be an historian, t=
here
is such order and clearness i=
n his
account of events;" and Uncle Fritz's eyes laughed at Aunt Jo, as he helped the desce=
ndant
of the Pilgrims to his third =
bit of
turkey.
"I thought you must eat as much as ev=
er
you could on Thanksgiving. But
Franz says you mustn't even then;" and Stuffy looked as if he had received bad n=
ews.
"Franz is right, so mind your knife a=
nd
fork, and be moderate, or els=
e you
won't be able to help in the surprise by and by," said Mrs. Jo.
"I'll be careful; but everybody does =
eat
lots, and I like it better than being
moderate," said Stuffy, who leaned to the popular belief that Thanksgiving must be kept by comin=
g as
near apoplexy as possible, and
escaping with merely a fit of indigestion or a headache.
"Now, my 'pilgrims' amuse yourselves
quietly till tea-time, for you will
have enough excitement this evening," said Mrs. Jo, as they rose from the table after a protra=
cted
sitting, finished by drinking every
one's health in cider. =
"I think I will take the whole flock =
for
a drive, it is so pleasant; t=
hen
you can rest, my dear, or you will be worn out this evening," added Mr. Bhaer; and as soon as co=
ats
and hats could be put on, the=
great
omnibus was packed full, and away they went for a long gay drive, leaving Mrs. Jo to rest=
and
finish sundry small affairs in peace.
An early and light tea was followed by more
brushing of hair and washing =
of
hands; then the flock waited impatiently for the company to come. Only the family w=
as
expected; for these small rev=
els
were strictly domestic, and such being the case, sorrow was not allowed to sadden the present
festival. All came; Mr. and Mrs. March,
with Aunt Meg, so sweet and lovely, in spite of her black dress and the little widow's cap t=
hat
encircled her tranquil face. =
Uncle
Teddy and Aunt Amy, with the Princess looking more fairy-like than ever, in a sky-blue
gown, and a great bouquet of =
hot-house
flowers, which she divided among the boys, sticking one in each button-hole, making them f=
eel
peculiarly elegant and festiv=
e. One
strange face appeared, and Uncle Teddy led the unknown gentleman up to the Bhaers,
saying
"This is Mr. Hyde; he has been inquir=
ing
about Dan, and I ventured to =
bring
him to-night, that he might see how much the boy has improved."
The Bhaers received him cordially, for Dan=
's
sake, pleased that the lad ha=
d been
remembered. But, after a few minutes' chat, they were glad to know Mr. Hyde for his=
own
sake, so genial, simple, and
interesting was he. It was pleasant to see the boy's face light up when he caught sight of his friend;
pleasanter still to see Mr. H=
yde's
surprise and satisfaction in Dan's improved manners and appearance, and pleasantest of all=
to
watch the two sit talking in a corner,
forgetting the differences of age, culture, and position, in the one subject which interested b=
oth,
as man and boy compared notes=
, and
told the story of their summer life.
"The performance must begin soon, or =
the
actors will go to sleep," said
Mrs. Jo, when the first greetings were over.
So every one went into the school-room, and
took seats before a curtain m=
ade of
two bed-covers. The children had already&n=
bsp;
vanished; but stifled laughter, and funny little exclamations from behind the curtain, betrayed their
whereabouts. The entertainment began
with a spirited exhibition of gymnastics, led by Franz. The six elder lads, in blue trousers a=
nd red
shirts, made a fine display of
muscle with dumb-bells, clubs, and weights, keeping time to the music of the piano, played by Mrs.=
Jo
behind the scenes. Dan was so
energetic in this exercise, that there was some danger of his knocking down his neighbors, like =
so
many nine-pins, or sending his
bean-bags whizzing among the audience; for he was excited by Mr. Hyde's presence, and a burning
desire to do honor to his tea=
chers.
"A fine, strong lad. If I go on my tr=
ip
to South America, in a year o=
r two,
I shall be tempted to ask you to lend him to me, Mr. Bhaer," said Mr. Hyde, whose
interest in Dan was much increased <=
/span>by
the report he had just heard of him.
"You shall have him, and welcome, tho=
ugh
we shall miss our young Hercu=
les
very much. It would do him a world of good, and I am sure he would serve his friend
faithfully."
Dan heard both question and answer, and hi=
s heart
leaped with joy at the though=
t of
travelling in a new country with Mr. Hyde, and swelled with gratitude for the kin=
dly
commendation which rewarded h=
is
efforts to be all these friends desired to see him.
After the gymnastics, Demi and Tommy spoke=
the
old school dialogue, "Mo=
ney
makes the mare go." Demi did very well, but Tommy was capital as the old farme=
r; for
he imitated Silas in a way th=
at
convulsed the audience, and caused Silas himself to laugh so hard that Asia had to slap him =
on the
back, as they stood in the ha=
ll
enjoying the fun immensely. =
span>
Then Emil, who had got his breath by this
time, gave them a sea-song in
costume, with a great deal about "stormy winds," "lee shores," and a rousing chorus=
of
"Luff, boys, luff," which made the room ring; after which Ned perform=
ed a
funny Chinese dance, and hopp=
ed
about like a large frog in a pagoda hat. As this was the only public exhibition ever held at
Plumfield, a few exercises in lightning-arithmetic,
spelling, and reading were given. Jack quite amazed the public by his rapid
calculations on the blackboard. Tommy
won in the spelling match, and Demi read a little French fable so well that Uncle Teddy was
charmed.
"Where are the other children?"
asked every one as the curtain fell,
and none of the little ones appeared.
"Oh, that is the surprise. It's so
lovely, I pity you because you don't
know it," said Demi, who had gone to get his mother's kiss, and=
stayed by her to explain the myste=
ry
when it should be revealed. =
span>
Goldilocks had been carried off by Aunt Jo=
, to
the great amazement of her pa=
pa,
who quite outdid Mr. Bhaer in acting
wonder, suspense, and wild impatience to know "what was going to happen."
At last, after much rustling, hammering, a=
nd
very audible directions from =
the
stage manager, the curtain rose to soft music, and Bess was discovered sitting on=
a
stool beside a brown paper fi=
re-place.
A dearer little Cinderella was never seen; for the gray gown was very ragged, the tiny sho=
es all
worn, the face so pretty unde=
r the
bright hair, and the attitude so dejected, it brought tears, as well as smiles, to the fond eyes
looking at the baby actress. She sat
quite still, till a voice whispered, "Now!" then she sighed a funny little sigh, and said, "=
;Oh I
wish I tood go to the ball!" so
naturally, that her father clapped frantically, and her mother calle=
d out, "Little darling!" T=
hese
highly improper expressions of feeling&nbs=
p;
caused Cinderella to forget herself, and shake her head at them, saying, reprovingly, "You mus=
tn't
'peak to me."
Silence instantly prevailed, and three taps
were heard on the wall. Cinde=
rella
looked alarmed, but before she could remember to say, "What is dat?" the back =
of the
brown paper fire-place opened like a
door, and, with some difficulty, the fairy godmother got herself and her pointed hat through. It wa=
s Nan,
in a red cloak, a cap, and a =
wand,
which she waved as she said decidedly,
"You shall go to the ball, my dear.&q=
uot;
"Now you must pull and show my pretty
dress," returned Cindere=
lla,
tugging at her brown gown.
"No, no; you must say, 'How can I go =
in
my rags?' " said the god=
mother
in her own voice.
"Oh yes, so I mus';" and the
Princess said it, quite undisturbed by&nbs=
p;
her forgetfulness.
"I change your rags into a splendid
dress, because you are good," <=
/span>said
the godmother in her stage tones; and deliberately unbuttoning the brown pinafore, she
displayed a gorgeous sight. =
span>
The little Princess really was pretty enou=
gh
to turn the heads of any numb=
er of
small princes, for her mamma had dressed her like a tiny court lady, in a rosy silk =
train
with satin under-skirt, and bits of
bouquets here and there, quite lovely to behold. The godmother put a crown, with pink and white
feathers drooping from it, on her =
span>head,
and gave her a pair of silver paper slippers, which she put on, and then stood up, lifting her
skirts to show them to the au=
dience,
saying, with pride, "My dlass ones, ain't they pitty?"
She was so charmed with them, that she was with difficulty recalled to h= er part, and made to say <= o:p>
"But I have no toach, Dodmother."=
;
"Behold it!" and Nan waved her w=
and
with such a flourish, that she
nearly knocked off the crown of the Princess.
Then appeared the grand triumph of the pie=
ce.
First, a rope was seen to fla=
p on
the floor, to tighten with a twitch as Emil's voice was heard to say, "Heave,
ahoy!" and Silas's gruff one to reply, "Stiddy, now, stiddy!" A=
shout
of laughter followed, for four large
gray rats appeared, rather shaky as to their legs, and queer as to their tails, but quite fine about =
the
head, where black beads shone in
the most lifelike manner. They drew, or were intended to appear as if they did, a magnificent coac=
h made
of half the mammoth pumpkin,
mounted on the wheels of Teddy's wagon, painted yellow to match the gay carriage.
Perched on a seat in front sat a jolly
little coachman in a white cotton-wool wig, cocked hat, scarlet breeches, and laced coat, =
who
cracked a long whip and jerke=
d the
red reins so energetically, that the gray steeds reared finely. It was Teddy, and he beame=
d upon
the company so affably that t=
hey
gave him a round all to himself; and Uncle Laurie said, "If I could find as sober a
coachman as that one, I would engage
him on the spot." The coach stopped, the godmother lifted in th=
e Princess, and she was trundled awa=
y in
state, kissing her hand to the
public, with her glass shoes sticking up in front, and her pink train sweeping the ground behind, =
for,
elegant as the coach was, I r=
egret
to say that her Highness was rather a tight fit.
The next scene was the ball, and here Nan =
and
Daisy appeared as gay as peac=
ocks
in all sorts of finery. Nan was especially good as the proud sister, and crushed many
imaginary ladies as she swept about
the palace-hall. The Prince, in solitary state upon a somewhat unsteady throne, sat gazi=
ng
about him from under an impos=
ing
crown, as he played with his sword and admired the rosettes in his shoes. When Cinder=
ella
came in he jumped up, and exc=
laimed,
with more warmth than elegance,
"My gracious! who is that?" and
immediately led the lady out to dance,
while the sisters scowled and turned up their noses in the corner.
The stately jig executed by the little cou=
ple
was very pretty, for the chil=
dish
faces were so earnest, the costumes so gay, and the steps so peculiar, that they looked like=
the
dainty quaint figures painted on a
Watteau fan. The Princess's train was very much in her way, and the sword of Prince Rob nearly
tripped him up several times. But
they overcame these obstacles remarkably well, and finished the dance with much grace and spir=
it,
considering that neither knew=
what
the other was about.
"Drop your shoe," whispered Mrs.
Jo's voice as the lady was about to
sit down.
"Oh, I fordot!" and, taking off =
one
of the silvery slippers, Cind=
erella
planted it carefully in the middle of the stage, said to Rob, "Now you must try and ta=
tch
me," and ran away, while the =
span>Prince,
picking up the shoe, obediently trotted after her.
The third scene, as everybody knows, is wh=
ere
the herald comes to try on the
shoe. Teddy, still in coachman's dress, came in blowing a tin fish-horn melodiously, and t=
he
proud sisters each tried to put on
the slipper. Nan insisted on playing cut off her toe with a carving-knife, and performed that
operation so well that the herald =
span>was
alarmed, and begged her to be "welly keerful." Cinderella then
"I am the Pinsiss."
Daisy wept, and begged pardon; but Nan, who
liked tragedy, improved upon =
the
story, and fell in a fainting-fit upon the floor, where she remained comfortably enj=
oying
the rest of the play. It was =
not
long, for the Prince ran in, dropped upon his knees, and kissed the hand of Goldilocks with=
great
ardor, while the herald blew a
blast that nearly deafened the audience. The curtain had no chance to fall, for the Princess r=
an off
the stage to her father, cryi=
ng,
"Didn't I do well?" while the Prince and herald had a fencing-match with the tin horn and
wooden sword.
"It was beautiful!" said every o=
ne;
and, when the raptures had a =
little
subsided, Nat came out with his violin in his hand.
"Hush! hush!" cried all the
children, and silence followed, for
something in the boy's bashful manner and appealing eyes make every one listen kindly.
The Bhaers thought he would play some of t=
he
old airs he knew so well, but=
, to
their surprise, they heard a new and lovely melody, so softly, sweetly played, that they =
could
hardly believe it could be Na=
t. It
was one of those songs without words that touch the heart, and sing of all tender home-like h=
opes
and joys, soothing and cheeri=
ng
those who listen to its simple music. Aunt Meg leaned her head on Demi's shoulder, Grand=
mother
wiped her eyes, and Mrs. Jo l=
ooked
up at Mr. Laurie, saying, in a choky whisper,
"You composed that."
"I wanted your boy to do you honor, a=
nd
thank you in his own way,&quo=
t;
answered Laurie, leaning down to answer her.
When Nat made his bow and was about to go,=
he
was called back by many hands=
, and
had to play again. He did so with such a happy face, that it was good to see him,=
for
he did his best, and gave them the
gay old tunes that set the feet to dancing, and made quietude impossible.
"Clear the floor!" cried Emil; a=
nd
in a minute the chairs were p=
ushed
back, the older people put safely in corners and the children gathered on the stage.
"Show your manners!" called Emil;
and the boys pranced up to the ladies,
old and young; with polite invitations to "tread the mazy," as dear Dick Swiveller has it. The=
small
lads nearly came to blows for=
the
Princess, but she chose Dick, like a kind, little gentlewoman as she was, and let hi=
m lead
her proudly to her place. Mrs=
. Jo
was not allowed to decline; and Aunt Amy filled Dan with unspeakable delight by refusing Fr=
anz
and taking him. Of course Nan=
and
Tommy, Nat and Daisy paired off, while Uncle Teddy went and got Asia, who was longing=
to
"jig it," and felt much =
span>elated
by the honor done her. Silas and Mary Ann had a private dance in the hall; and for half-an=
-hour
Plumfield was at its merriest=
.
The party wound up with a grand promenade =
of
all the young folks, headed b=
y the
pumpkin-coach with the Princess and driver=
inside, and the rats in a wildly frisky state.
While the children enjoyed this final frol=
ic,
the elders sat in the parlor
looking on as they talked together of the little people with the interest of parents and friend=
s.
"What are you thinking of, all by
yourself, with such a happy face, =
span>sister
Jo?" asked Laurie, sitting down beside her on the sofa.
"My summer's work, Teddy, and amusing
myself by imagining the futur=
e of
my boys," she answered, smiling as she made room for him.
"They are all to be poets, painters, =
and
statesmen, famous soldiers, o=
r at
least merchant princes, I suppose."
"No, I am not as aspiring as I once w=
as,
and I shall be satisfied if t=
hey
are honest men. But I will confess that I do expect a little glory and a career for some of the=
m.
Demi is not a common child, a=
nd I
think he will blossom into something good and great in the best sense of the word. The others=
will
do well, I hope, especially m=
y last
two boys, for, after hearing Nat play to-night, I really think he has genius."
"Too soon to say; talent he certainly
has, and there is no doubt that the
boy can soon earn his bread by the work he loves. Build him up for another year or so, and then I=
will
take him off your hands, and =
launch
him properly."
"That is such a pleasant prospect for
poor Nat, who came to me six =
months
ago so friendless and forlorn. Dan's future is already plain to me. Mr. Hyde will want him soon=
, and
I mean to give him a brave and
faithful little servant. Dan is one who can serve well if the wages are love and confidence,=
and
he has the energy to carve ou=
t his
own future in his own way. Yes, I am very happy over our success with these boys one so wea=
k, and
one so wild; both so much bet=
ter
now, and so full of promise."
"What magic did you use, Jo?"
"I only loved them, and let them see =
it.
Fritz did the rest."
"Dear soul! you look as if 'only lovi=
ng'
had been rather hard work som=
etimes,"
said Laurie, stroking her thin cheek with a look of more tender admiration than he had=
ever
given her as a girl.
"I'm a faded old woman, but I'm a very
happy one; so don't pity me,
Teddy;" and she glanced about the room with eyes full of a sincere content.
"Yes, your plan seems to work better =
and
better every year," he s=
aid,
with an emphatic nod of approval toward the cheery scene before him.
"How can it fail to work well when I =
have
so much help from you all?&qu=
ot;
answered Mrs. Jo, looking gratefully at her most generous patron.
"It is the best joke of the family, t=
his
school of yours and its succe=
ss. So
unlike the future we planned for you, and yet so suited to you after all. It was a regular
inspiration, Jo," said Laurie,
dodging her thanks as usual.
"Ah! but you laughed at it in the
beginning, and still make all manner
of fun of me and my inspirations. Didn't you predict that having girls with the boys would b=
e a
dead failure? Now see how wel=
l it
works;" and she pointed to the happy group of lads and lassies dancing, singing, and chat=
tering
together with every sign of k=
indly
good fellowship.
"I give in, and when my Goldilocks is=
old
enough I'll send her to you. =
Can I
say more than that?"
"I shall be so proud to have your lit=
tle
treasure trusted to me. But r=
eally,
Teddy, the effect of these girls has been excellent. I know you will laugh at me, but I don't =
mind,
I'm used to it; so I'll tell you that
one of my favorite fancies is to look at my family as a small world, to watch the progress of my
little men, and, lately, to see how
well the influence of my little women works upon them. Daisy is the domestic element, and=
they
all feel the charm of her qui=
et,
womanly ways. Nan is the restless, energetic, strong-minded one; they admire her courage, and =
give
her a fair chance to work out=
her
will, seeing that she has sympathy as well as strength, and the power to do much in their small
world. Your Bess is the lady, full
of natural refinement, grace, and beauty. She polishes them unconsciously, and fills her place=
as
any lovely woman may, using h=
er
gentle influence to lift and hold them above the coarse, rough things of life, and keep them gent=
lemen
in the best sense of the fine=
old
word."
"It is not always the ladies who do t=
hat
best, Jo. It is sometimes the strong
brave woman who stirs up the boy and makes a man of him;" and Laurie bowed to her=
with
a significant laugh.
"No; I think the graceful woman, whom=
the
boy you allude to married, ha=
s done
more for him than the wild Nan of his youth; or, better still, the wise, motherly w=
oman
who watched over him, as Daisy
watches over Demi, did more to make him what he is;" and Jo turned toward her mother, who s=
at a
little apart with Meg, lookin=
g so
full of the sweet dignity and beauty of old age, that Laurie gave her a glance of filial
respect and love as he replied, in <=
/span>serious
earnest,
"All three did much for him, and I can
understand how well these lit=
tle
girls will help your lads."
"Not more than the lads help them; it=
is
mutual, I assure you. Nat doe=
s much
for Daisy with his music; Dan can manage Nan better than any of us; and Demi teaches y=
our
Goldilocks so easily and well=
that
Fritz calls them Roger Ascham and Lady Jane Grey. Dear me! if men and women would only tr=
ust,
understand, and help one anot=
her as
my children do, what a capital place the world would be!" and Mrs. Jo's eyes grew
absent, as if she was looking at a new&nbs=
p;
and charming state of society in which people lived as happily and innocently as her flock at Plumfie=
ld.
"You are doing your best to help on t=
he
good time, my dear. Continue =
to
believe in it, to work for it, and to prove its possibility by the success of her small
experiment," said Mr. March, pausing&=
nbsp;
as he passed to say an encouraging word, for the good man never lost his faith in humanity, and st=
ill
hoped to see peace, good-will, and
happiness reign upon the earth.
"I am not so ambitious as that, fathe=
r. I
only want to give these child=
ren a
home in which they can be taught a few simple things which will help to make life less =
hard
to them when they go out to f=
ight
their battles in the world. Honesty, courage, industry, faith in God, their fellow-creatures, and
themselves; that is all I try for."
"That is every thing. Give them these
helps, then let them go to wo=
rk out
their life as men and women; and whatever their success or failure is, I think they will
remember and bless your efforts, my
good son and daughter."
The Professor had joined them, and as Mr. =
March
spoke he gave a hand to each,=
and
left them with a look that was a blessing. As Jo and her husband stood together for=
a
moment talking quietly, and f=
eeling
that their summer work had been well done if father approved, Mr. Laurie slipped into =
the
hall, said a word to the chil=
dren,
and all of a sudden the whole flock pranced into the room, joined hands and danced about
Father and Mother Bhaer, sing=
ing
blithely
"Summer days are over,
Summer work is done;
Harvests have been gathered
Gayly one by one.
Now the feast is eaten,
Finished is the play;
But one rite remains for
Our Thanksgiving-day.
"Best of all the harvest
In the dear God's sight,
Are the happy children
In the home to-night;
And we come to offer
Thanks where thanks are due,
With grateful hearts and voices,
Father, mother, unto you."
With the last words the circle narrowed ti=
ll
the good Professor and his wi=
fe
were taken prisoner by many arms, and half hidden by the bouquet of laughing young faces wh=
ich
surrounded them, proving that=
one
plant had taken root and blossomed beautifully in all the little gardens. For love is a flow=
er
that grows in any soil, works its =
span>sweet
miracles undaunted by autumn frost or winter snow, blooming fair and fragrant all the=
year,
and blessing those who give a=
nd
those who receive.