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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19390-h.zip b/19390-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f659d16 --- /dev/null +++ b/19390-h.zip diff --git a/19390-h/19390-h.htm b/19390-h/19390-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e887a4b --- /dev/null +++ b/19390-h/19390-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3574 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Baby Pitcher's Trials, by Mrs. May. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -2em; margin-right: 0.5em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Baby Pitcher's Trials, by Mrs. May + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Baby Pitcher's Trials + Little Pitcher Stories + +Author: Mrs. May + +Release Date: September 27, 2006 [EBook #19390] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img002.jpg" + alt="The Funeral." /><br /> + <b>The Funeral, <a href='#Page_52'><b>p. 52.</b></a></b> + </div> + + + + +<h3>LITTLE PITCHER-STORIES.</h3> + + + <h1>BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS.</h1> + + <h4>BY</h4> + + <h2>MRS. MAY.</h2> + + + <p class='center'>BOSTON:<br /> + PUBLISHED BY CLARK & FISKE,<br /> + 32 CORNHILL.<br /><br /> + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by<br /> + CLARK & FISKE,<br /> + In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><th>CHAPTER I.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How the Little Pitcher made Sunshine,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_7'><b>7</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER II.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Flora Waits for the Sun to Drink up the Water,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_19'><b>19</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER III.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Story of the Poor Robin,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_30'><b>30</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER IV.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Going to Have a Funeral,"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_41'><b>41</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER V.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bertie Meets Jack Midnight at the Spring,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_53'><b>53</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER VI.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Deadly Snare for the Muskrat,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_65'><b>65</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER VII.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Something in the Trap,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_76'><b>76</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER VIII.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jack Pulls off the Warm Jacket,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_86'><b>86</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER IX.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Flora in Exile,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_96'><b>96</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER X.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Flora Goes to Ride in the Little Blue Cart,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_105'><b>105</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER XI.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>She says Good-bye to the Soap Man,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_114'><b>114</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER XII.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>And Loses her Way,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_124'><b>124</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER XIII.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Charley Swallows the Rooster,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_133'><b>133</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER XIV.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Happy Towzer,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_142'><b>142</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><th>CHAPTER XV.</th><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Flora Never Opens the Big Gate,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_152'><b>152</b></a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<h1>BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS.</h1> +<p><br /><br /></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<h3>HOW THE LITTLE PRINCESS MADE SUNSHINE.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.i.jpg" alt="I" title="I" /></div><p>t was raining fast, and it had rained for two days. This was the third. +Flora had become tired of the leaden sky and the wet earth. She had +watched the moving clouds and the swaying branches of the trees long +enough, and now she was ready for fair weather. But it seemed as if fair +weather would never come, and she looked in vain for a bit of blue sky. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>There was not even a light streak. It was stormy without and it was +stormy within. The gray side of the sky was all that could be seen, and +the gray side of Flora's temper was out also. There was a sunny side to +both, but that was carefully hidden by the sober clouds.</p> + +<p>Flora was tired of the big drops that chased each other down the pane. +She was tired of trying to look abroad through the wet glass and the +mist. When she did get a glimpse of the outer world there was nothing to +see, and that was the worst of it. There was nothing but muddy roads, +pools of water and little patches of green grass. It was not to be +borne.</p> + +<p>Flora crept down from her high chair to the lowly footstool, leaned her +head upon her hand and sighed. Sister Amy had gone to school, and +Charley and Bertie were big boys. Of course they could go anywhere in +any weather, with "yubber" boots. How she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> envied them! Only she the +youngest of the flock, the Baby Pitcher, was forced to stay at home +because it rained. So she sighed. Mamma heard the sigh and said +inquiringly, "Well?"</p> + +<p>"If I was a lady," said Flora, "a certain true lady, I wouldn't stay in +for the weather. I would put on my water-prooth and go a-fishing."</p> + +<p>"In the rain?"</p> + +<p>"I would."</p> + +<p>Mamma laughed. Now Flora was not in a mood to be laughed at, so she shut +her eyes to keep back the tears, for she knew they would come if she did +not shut the covers down tightly. She did not keep them all back +however, for mamma saw two or three rolling slowly down her little +girl's cheek.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't go fishing without a water-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>prooth," she added, petulantly; +"might fall in and get wet."</p> + +<p>Mamma did not laugh now. She was very grave. She had not had an easy +time of it since falling weather set in. She could do nothing right. All +her efforts had failed to amuse Flora. So mamma sighed.</p> + +<p>Flora, forgetting that she must keep the covers shut down tightly, +opened wide her eyes and was astonished. Mamma looked so very sober. Was +she too going to cry because the pleasant sunshine staid away so long?</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," she said, earnestly. Mamma looked up. "I never would cry +for the rain," hastily brushing the moisture from her own cheek. "Ladies +don't, nor good children; only cross ones."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it," said mamma; but she did not smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It will be pleasant when it clears off, I guess; don't you?"</p> + +<p>"It generally is," said mamma, quietly; and then she went on with her +work and paid no more attention to Flora. Now that was unusual conduct. +What did mamma mean? In thinking about it, Flora forgot her own +troubles, and forgot all about the rain, though at that moment it was +beating fiercely against the window, and the cold wind was begging to +come in. By and by she carried the footstool to her mother's side and +seated herself demurely.</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell you a story," she said. "It is a story, but it is +the truth, too. Want to hear it?"</p> + +<p>Mamma assented.</p> + +<p>"Well. Once, a good while ago, almost as much as a week, somebody went +a-fishing. It wasn't Charley or Bertie or Amy or me. His mother told him +never to do it because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> he might tumble in, you know. But he did; he +went."</p> + +<p>"What a naughty boy!" said mamma, gravely.</p> + +<p>"But he wasn't a boy."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said mamma, "I thought he was."</p> + +<p>"And he wasn't a girl."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"No. You could never guess what he was."</p> + +<p>"Then you will have to tell me."</p> + +<p>"He was a fly."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was a fly; a sure enough fly. And where do you think the pond +was? Not a truly pond, but play it was, you know."</p> + +<p>"It might have been the sirup pitcher or the plum jar. Flies are very +fond of sweets."</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't. It was the cream jug.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> He was trying to catch some milk +and he tumbled in."</p> + +<p>"What a pity!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and his mamma wasn't there, and the milk drownded him. And I hope +he will remember it as long as he lives, and never do so any more. +Wasn't that a good story?"</p> + +<p>"It was a very good story."</p> + +<p>"Did it make you feel better?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal better; and now I will tell you a story."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody!"</p> + +<p>Flora brushed the curls back from her face and prepared to listen.</p> + +<p>"Once upon a time," said mamma.</p> + +<p>"Long ago?"</p> + +<p>"Not so very long ago."</p> + +<p>"Much as a week?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; not so much as a week. We will say about two days."</p> + +<p>"Well."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Once upon a time—"</p> + +<p>"About two days ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. In a little white palace no larger than this house, there +lived a king and a queen, a tall princess and a little princess."</p> + +<p>"Oh oo!" said Flora.</p> + +<p>"And the king could not always remain in the pretty palace, because it +was necessary for him to go abroad to provide food and clothing for his +family. The queen, the tall princess and the little princess, were his +family."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"And the tall princess could not always stay in the palace, because she +expected to be a queen herself some day, and her mamma—I mean the +queen—wanted her to be a wise one; so she sent her away to school every +morning. But the queen and the little princess stayed in the palace, and +it often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> happened that they were left at home together."</p> + +<p>"Just like us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. The princess used to run about and play out of doors like +other little girls when the weather was pleasant, and when it was not +she amused herself in doors with her toys and her pets."</p> + +<p>"Did she have a white mouse, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I think she had a white mouse."</p> + +<p>"And a grandma?"</p> + +<p>"I am almost certain that she had a grandma."</p> + +<p>"But the grandma did not live in the palace?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. The grandma lived in a house not far from the palace, and the +tall princess and the little princess used to visit her almost every +day."</p> + +<p>"Well."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The queen and the little princess were very happy together until +something happened. It was a long storm that happened, and there was no +sunshine in the palace for more than two days."</p> + +<p>Flora, reminded of the rain, glanced at the window against which the big +drops were rattling merrily, but quickly turned to mamma again, for she +did not wish to lose one word of the story.</p> + +<p>"Now when the sun did not shine in the palace it was a very gloomy +place, not like a palace at all, and the queen was sad and the princess +unhappy. The princess did not know why she was unhappy, but the queen +knew. It was because there was no sunshine to make little faces look +pleasant and cheerful. It made the queen sad to see the little princess +unhappy and discontented, so she thought she would try to make some +sunshine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did she?"</p> + +<p>"No," said mamma. "I am sorry to say that the poor queen worked very +hard, but she had forgotten how to make it."</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" said Flora.</p> + +<p>"But when the poor queen was quite discouraged the little princess +thought that she would try; and what her poor mamma—I mean the +queen—had failed to do, she did. The little princess made the +sunshine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Flora, clapping her hands. "How did she do it?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said mamma, smiling, and putting her arm round the little girl's +neck, "she brought her footstool to the queen's side and told the queen +a story."</p> + +<p>"Just like me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. And the queen was very happy because the palace was no +longer dark and gloomy; it was bright with the sunshine her little girl +had made."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The princess, you mean."</p> + +<p>"The princess was a little girl."</p> + +<p>"And was the queen a lady?"</p> + +<p>"The queen was the little girl's mamma."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know!" said Flora, jumping about in high glee, "I am the little +princess and you are the queen, and this is the palace."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said mamma.</p> + +<p>"And papa is the king, and sister is the tall princess."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"And I hope," she added, earnestly, "that the princess will never forget +that she knows how to make sunshine."</p> + +<p>"The queen hopes so too," said mamma.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>FLORA WAITS FOR THE SUN TO DRINK UP THE WATER.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div><p>he next morning there was sunshine everywhere; inside of the palace and +out. The long storm was over. Flora waited in the porch for the sun to +drink up the moisture from the soaked ground, that she might run about +and enjoy her freedom. She had been housed so long—three whole days! +And now the grass was springing up all around, and the swelling buds +were ready to burst forth into leaves. And the birds were singing gaily +as if they too were glad to come out and play.</p> + +<p>Flora watched them as they hopped from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> twig to twig, and wished she +could borrow their brown wings, for she wanted to fly away over the tops +of the houses and sing with them a joyful song. But she could not borrow +the brown wings, and she could not turn herself into a bird. So she sat +down on the upper step which the sun had dried, and tried to feel +satisfied with the nimble feet and curious fingers that God had given to +her instead of wings and claws.</p> + +<p>The steam was rising from the ground, and the bright drops sparkled on +the tender blades of grass. When the last bright drop had disappeared, +and there was no longer any steam, she was at liberty to go where she +pleased. She felt very comfortable in her thick jacket and leather +boots, for it was as yet too early in the season to lay them by, but if +she could have had her own way, she would have welcomed the pleasant +morning in ankle-ties and a shaker.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mamma knows best," she whispered to Dinah, the black baby, with blue +buttons for eyes and ravelled-out yarn for hair. "Mamma knows best, and +I hope you are 'vinced of it."</p> + +<p>The sun had gone away from the step, and Flora was somewhat chilly, so +she pinned the shawl tightly about Dinah and walked up and down the +porch. "You don't know everything," she said, sharply, "because you +ain't old enough. And I ain't. Did you think I was? No. I will tell you +who is. Mamma is. She is ever so old, and she knows all there is in the +world. When she tells me to put on my warm jacket, I don't cry. But you +do, and you ought to be ashamed of it. Will you do it without crying +next time? Eh?" She gave the baby a little shake and went on with her +lecture. "Naughty children say 'no' when mamma says 'yes.' Good ones +don't. Good ones say just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> mamma says. And naughty children tell +stories. I don't tell stories and good children don't. If you say you +don't cry when you do cry, that's a story. And if you say you do cry +when you don't cry, <i>that's</i> a story. It is a story both ways, and both +ways are wicked. Mamma says so, and she knows. When you are as old as +mamma, you will know too. And I will. So don't ask any more questions +about it."</p> + +<p>Dinah had come out to take the air and be company for Flora. To be sure, +Amy, the tall princess spoken of in the last chapter, was sitting at the +window that opened on to the porch; but then she was busy. She could not +be company for anybody, for she was studying her home lesson. Flora +pitied her very much, for she looked very sober and kept repeating to +herself words that Flora could not understand. It was a hard lesson, and +Amy was determined to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> conquer it. Flora felt like talking, and there +was no one to talk to but Dinah. Dinah was a good listener, but not much +of a talker. In fact, she could not speak a word; so if she had any +ideas, she did not express them. Flora was tired of having everything +her own way. She thought it would be a great deal nicer if Amy would put +down that stupid book, and pay some attention to her; but she did not +say so aloud. She whispered it to Dinah in a tone that only Dinah could +hear. By and by Amy did put down the book, and with it the sober, +earnest look.</p> + +<p>"Goody!" said Flora, clapping her hands, regardless of Dinah's peril. +But Dinah did not fall. Flora caught her by the neck just in time to +prevent a terrible blow. When Flora said "Goody," Amy opened the window.</p> + +<p>"It is you, is it?" she said. "I thought it was a mouse."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is only me," said Flora. "I am going out when the sun has drunk up +all the water."</p> + +<p>"The sun is a thirsty fellow, my dear."</p> + +<p>"He is," sighed Flora. "Dinah is tired of waiting."</p> + +<p>"Flora is tired of waiting, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Flora is."</p> + +<p>"And what would she like to do while the sun is drinking?"</p> + +<p>"Have fun," said Flora, laying the black baby down for a nap, with the +shawl drawn up over her head. "Dinah is asleep and I am ready."</p> + +<p>"You are a dear little thing for keeping so still while I was studying, +and we will have some fun."</p> + +<p>"Oo!" said Flora. "I have fifteen minutes to do whatever I please with, +and then I must be off. Now, what would you like to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Play something," said Flora, joyfully.</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"I should like to get out my china set and play dinner, with real sugar +in the sugar bowl, and apple cut up for meat."</p> + +<p>"That would be jolly if we only had the time; but we have not."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" sighed Flora.</p> + +<p>Amy put on hat and coat, and tightened the strap around her books.</p> + +<p>"How would you like 'mother' or 'tag?'"</p> + +<p>"First rate," said Flora. "I will be the mother, and you may be 'it.'"</p> + +<p>"All at once?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But if you catch me, it won't be fair."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Amy. "And you musn't start till I get my hand on the +post."</p> + +<p>"No."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And if you don't 'bey the rules we must begin over again."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Ready?"</p> + +<p>"Ready."</p> + +<p>As Flora started to run, somebody called "Holloa!" So she stopped short +and asked, "Who is that?"</p> + +<p>It was Charley passing by on his way to school, alone.</p> + +<p>"You had better hurry up," he cried. "If you stop there fooling with the +Baby Pitcher, you will be late."</p> + +<p>"It is early yet," said Amy; but Flora was angry and she stamped her +foot and screamed,</p> + +<p>"'Taint late, either, Charley Waters; and you are an ugly boy to call me +that. My name ain't Baby Pitcher; my name is Flora Lee!"</p> + +<p>"Whew!" said Charley. "The Lee spunk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> is running away with the little +pet. Catch it somebody!"</p> + +<p>"You must not tease her," said Amy; "she wants to play."</p> + +<p>"Don't either," pouted Flora.</p> + +<p>"I thought you did."</p> + +<p>"She wants coaxing," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Don't either, Charley Waters."</p> + +<p>"You will play to oblige sister, won't you?" said Amy, soothingly.</p> + +<p>No, Flora would not. Charley had interfered with their plans and ruffled +her temper. It was too bad of Charley, but then Charley was not wholly +to blame, for the Baby Pitcher's temper was easily ruffled. And now it +was really time for Amy to go. The fifteen minutes had melted away.</p> + +<p>"I do not like to leave the little sister with such a sour face," she +whispered in Flora's ear. "If you will brush away the black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> looks and +be pleasant, you may ask mamma to let you write on my white slate."</p> + +<p>"Till you come home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Flora with a quick motion brushed away the gloomy clouds and held up her +sunny face for a kiss.</p> + +<p>"That is a lady," said Amy, approvingly.</p> + +<p>"I will be very careful, and I won't break it," said Flora, gratefully; +"and Dinah must not touch it."</p> + +<p>"Well! If you haven't got an April face I wouldn't say so," declared +Charley, at the risk of banishing the smiles.</p> + +<p>But Flora did not care. She was thinking of the pretty white slate. She +had never held it in her hands but once, and then Amy stood by to watch +and to caution her. Now she was to have it all to herself.</p> + +<p>"I am off," said Charley. "Will somebody kiss me before I go?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dinah will."</p> + +<p>Flora held up the black baby, but Charley made a wry face and said +"Pah!" That amused Flora, and she ran after Charley and insisted upon +his kissing Dinah, but before she knew it, Charley caught her in his +arms and left a kiss on the tip of her nose. He did not mean to leave it +there, he was trying to put it on her cheek, but the little nose was +right in the way, so it caught the kiss.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" laughed Charley. "Let me take it back and put it where it +belongs."</p> + +<p>So Flora held quite still, and Charley made believe take it back; and he +put another one on the cheek. Then he and Amy trudged along to school, +leaving Flora and Dinah in a very happy mood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE STORY OF POOR ROBIN.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.f.jpg" alt="F" title="F" /></div><p>lora waited until they had turned the corner. When they looked back, +she waved her hand, and, before passing out of sight, Charley threw a +farewell kiss.</p> + +<p>"It was not for you," she said to the black baby, "so you need not look +so pleasant about it. It was for me. And now we will go in and write on +the white slate; but you must not touch it, for somebody has clumsy +fingers and black fingers. It isn't me—my fingers are white; and it +isn't Amy. It is you. Dolls don't know so much as other folks, and dolls +break things. I don't. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> you break that slate, Amy will cry. She said +I might take it; she didn't say nothing to you. Will you 'member?"</p> + +<p>They went in, but they soon came out again. The sunny morning called so +loudly that Flora could not stay in doors. Not even the white slate had +power to keep her. She played with it a while, and then it was cast +aside, because Dinah wanted to take a walk. How she knew it, I am sure I +cannot tell. Perhaps the black baby whispered her wishes in the ear of +her mistress, and Flora was quite willing to oblige her. When they went +out, the steps of the porch were dry, and there was no longer any mist; +so Flora was at liberty to go where she pleased. That is to say, she was +at liberty to go wherever mamma pleased. Down to the barn, over to +auntie's, where Charley and Bertie lived, or in to see Grandma; but she +was not to wander away or play in the public street,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> and she was on no +account to go where she could not keep home in view. She might roam +about the grounds all day if she liked; and there was the big tree down +in the garden, with a broad seat around it, where she could play house +or picnic, or anything that could be played with only Dinah to help her. +But it often happened that she did not care to go to any of these +places. She would have liked to open the big gate (but that was +forbidden,) and follow the noisy ducks down to the pond, and now she +looked with longing eyes to a group of merry boys who ought to have been +in school, but were playing in the muddy street instead. She thought how +nice it would be to have one's own way always, and not be obliged to ask +mamma everything. She was strongly tempted to join the party of rough, +rude boys. There was not a girl among them.</p> + +<p>"I think it is too bad," she complained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> to Dinah, "and it ought to be a +pity. Big girls know where they want to go better than mamma does. Don't +they? Course they do. Did you say no? That is what mamma says. So you +may turn your head round. If you don't look that way, you will forget +all about it. And I will."</p> + +<p>Flora was right. She turned her head and forgot all about it. There was +something else to think of. Somebody was getting over the wall at the +foot of the garden. Who was it? She ran to the other end of the porch to +see.</p> + +<p>"Is that you?" she called. No answer. "Is that <i>you</i>, I say?"</p> + +<p>Bertie (for it was Bertie,) looked up and nodded. He came across the +beds that were covered with the dry stalks and stems of last year's +flowers, and up the path, quite slowly.</p> + +<p>"Hurry," cried Flora, impatiently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bertie shook his head to signify that he could not hurry, and then she +saw that he carried something in both hands, and he carried it +carefully.</p> + +<p>"What is it," she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Bertie. "It is a timid little thing, and you must not make +a noise. You can come up softly and look."</p> + +<p>He cautiously parted his hands, and Flora looked in; but the space was +very narrow, and she was so eager that she could not see very well. So +he separated his hands a little more, and then she saw the bright eyes +and round head of a bird.</p> + +<p>"Oo!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Robin," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Alive?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you see?"</p> + +<p>He stopped, and Flora took another look.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> alive. I am so glad."</p> + +<p>"But you must not clap your hands. That<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> makes a wind, and he is awfully +afraid of a wind. It makes him shake like everything. I wish you could +feel his heart beat."</p> + +<p>Flora eagerly held out her hands.</p> + +<p>"Do let me," she pleaded, earnestly. But Bertie said, "Not yet; wait +till he gets acquainted."</p> + +<p>"Will he, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. He knows me first rate now. I have had him ever since last +night. I was home yesterday, sick. I am home sick to-day. That is why I +am here. I didn't go to school. I got my feet wet."</p> + +<p>"Through your rubber boots?"</p> + +<p>"Over them. I went in knee deep, filled my boots full. Took them off, +and emptied out the water; but that didn't do any good. The cold stayed +in. I had caught it, you know, and there was no shaking it out. When you +once catch a cold, it sticks. There is something growing in my throat. +Tonsils,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> mother calls it, I believe; but I guess it won't amount to +much."</p> + +<p>"Does it hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! It was awful in the night, though. You see I could not get out +yesterday for the rain."</p> + +<p>"No more could I."</p> + +<p>"It was precious dull staying in the house with the tonsils, so I kept +looking out of the window, and wishing it would clear off."</p> + +<p>"Just like me," said Flora, gleefully.</p> + +<p>"And I got awful tired of that window!"</p> + +<p>"Me, too."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to smash my fist through it, but that would not have been +doing the proper thing, so I kept my feelings to myself. By-and-by I +heard something go, peep! peep! I couldn't think at first what it was."</p> + +<p>"It was the robin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I did not know it was the robin. I thought it was some other +bird up in a tree.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> By-and-by it came again. Peep! peep! right under the +window, and then I began to look about me. But I did not see anything +for a long time. At last I opened the window, and there, hopping about +the wet piazza, was Mr. Robin. I went out and got him in a twinkling."</p> + +<p>"Did he want to be caught?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't help himself."</p> + +<p>"I should have flied away."</p> + +<p>"With that?" Bertie pointed to a broken wing.</p> + +<p>"With two of them."</p> + +<p>"You could not fly if you had a dozen wings like that. It is broken."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"And that accounts for his being on our piazza. I don't know what lamed +him, but I think it was the gale or a stone."</p> + +<p>"I guess it was something," said Flora, eagerly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And it was lucky that I happened to hear him when he cried peep, peep, +instead of puss. If puss had been round, wouldn't she have snapped at +him?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't she?" echoed Flora.</p> + +<p>"She would have made mince meat of Mr. Robin. There would not have been +so much as a feather left. I tell you what I mean to do. Nurse him up +till he gets well."</p> + +<p>"Me, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can be the doctor, while I am at school; and if he <i>does</i> get +well, won't I make a tip-top cage for him?"</p> + +<p>"He will get well."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. But you must be careful about his diet. Don't give him +anything hurtful to eat, you know."</p> + +<p>"I won't. Give him milk and sponge cake."</p> + +<p>"And worms. You must not forget the worms."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dig some?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Dig some now?"</p> + + +<p>"That wouldn't be a bad idea. He was not hungry last night, and he would +not eat this morning. Perhaps a nice fat worm will tempt him."</p> + +<p>Flora knew where to look for nice, fat worms, so she left Bertie to take +care of Dinah and the robin, while she went in pursuit of a breakfast +for the birdy. There was a family that lived under a certain plank, and +as it was a large family there was always somebody at home. When she +tried the door it would not open; that is to say when she got to the +plank she could not lift it. The wet clay sucked it down so hard that +although she tugged till she was red in the face, she could not move it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she cried.</p> + +<p>And then she went to the other end of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> the plank and tried that. But it +stuck fast. It would not move an inch. Then she got angry and talked to +it as she sometimes talked to Dinah, and with no better result. She +could not move it by force or by persuasion. There was no other way but +to go back to Bertie without the robin's breakfast.</p> + +<p>"I can manage it," said Bertie, "if you will take the chick. I should +like to see the plank that could hold out against me."</p> + +<p>Flora gladly took the chick, and her countenance brightened as she felt +the little heart flutter against her hand. This was much pleasanter than +hunting worms. She sat down upon the step and held the birdy very +tenderly till Bertie came back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>"GOING TO HAVE A FUNERAL."</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div><p>he plank did not hold out against Bertie, and he found several of the +worm family at home. They were very much disturbed by his presence, and +wriggled about in all directions, as if in pursuit of hiding places, or +their company dress and manners. They were evidently not prepared to +receive visitors. But that did not make any difference to Bertie. He +hung as many as he thought the robin could relish across a stick, and +with much difficulty—for the worms were constantly dropping off—he +made his way back to the porch without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> the loss of a single crawler. +But when he got there the birdy would not eat. Was not that a pity? They +coaxed in every way. Flora even talked to him with tears in her eyes, +but it was of no use. He did not open his bill or take any notice of the +nice breakfast spread before him.</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" said Flora. "Will he die?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid he will."</p> + +<p>Bertie gazed sadly at the writhing worms.</p> + +<p>"He will starve in a land of plenty, and I don't see how anybody is to +help it. Who could resist such a tempting breakfast as that?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"And I couldn't. And if he does not hurry up, there won't be any +breakfast to eat. Look at that—and that."</p> + +<p>Bertie pointed to a well-fattened, tender morsel, in such haste to be +off that it was hanging over the very edge of the flooring,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> and to +another whose thick-set body was fast disappearing between the boards.</p> + +<p>"That is what I call a tight squeeze. They might stop to say good +morning."</p> + +<p>"Worms don't know everything," returned Flora.</p> + +<p>"Not quite everything," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do next?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he is thirsty. Dinah is."</p> + +<p>"And you are?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I are."</p> + +<p>Water was brought; but the birdy would not drink, although he opened his +bill so wide when Flora pushed his head into the porringer that she +thought he was drinking.</p> + +<p>"He is only gasping," said Bertie. "Birds cannot breathe with their +heads under water. Nobody can."</p> + +<p>"I can."</p> + +<p>"No, dear."</p> + +<p>"Minims can."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, minims can. But minims are fishes, and they live in the water. +That is their home. Birds live in the air. They build little houses in +the trees."</p> + +<p>"Live in the sky. I have seen them way up."</p> + +<p>"They do fly almost as high as the sky; but when night comes and they +are tired of flying, they go home to rest."</p> + +<p>"In the little houses?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"Want to see them."</p> + +<p>"They are high up in the trees, out of sight. By and by, when the leaves +fall off and the birds fly away, I will get you one of the round nests."</p> + +<p>"To put the robin in."</p> + +<p>"If we have any robin."</p> + +<p>"Got one now."</p> + +<p>"But his wing is broken, and he will not eat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Too bad!"</p> + +<p>"And if he will not eat, he may as well die. I do believe he is thinking +about it now. Look at him!"</p> + +<p>Flora had made a bed by robbing Dinah of her dress and shawl; but the +bird had not moved since she placed him upon it. He was now lying on his +side, with closed eyes, and he was breathing very hard.</p> + +<p>"He is asleep," said Flora.</p> + +<p>Bertie shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Feel better when he wakes up."</p> + +<p>"If he <i>does</i> wake up."</p> + +<p>"Course he will! You do, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And I do. And Dinah does. Cover him up warm; course he will wake up!"</p> + +<p>Flora covered him with her pocket handkerchief, which she called a +blanket, and tried to wait patiently for him to finish his nap. But she +could not help lifting a corner of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> the blanket, now and then, to see +how he was getting on; and every time she looked he seemed to be +breathing harder, until at last he lay quite still, and did not breathe +at all. She took that as a good sign, because the eye that she could see +was partially open; and she called to Bertie, who had gone to the barn +for a box to keep the robin in till the new cage was made, to come quick +and turn the birdy over, for he had waked up on one side. She did not +like to disturb him; but she wanted to know if the other eye was open. +Bertie came up, with the box in his hand. He watched the bird closely +for a moment.</p> + +<p>"No need to turn him over," he said, sadly. "He is asleep clear +through."</p> + +<p>"Waked up on one side," persisted Flora; but Bertie knew that the robin +would never wake again. He dropped the box, and took up the poor little +bird. It was quite dead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Flora saw the drooping head, and knew that the birdy would never +hop about and chirp or eat worms any more, she cried bitterly. It was +too bad for it to go and die just as she was getting acquainted. They +would have had such nice times together when the new cage was done.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Bertie; but he too felt very sorry. He had been +looking forward to a tame bird in a pretty cage, singing the sweetest of +songs. And now that could never be.</p> + +<p>"Get well, some time," sobbed Flora.</p> + +<p>"Never," said Bertie, at which Flora cried louder than ever.</p> + +<p>"We must bury him, and forget all about it."</p> + +<p>"Have a funeral?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"In a pretty box?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>Flora wiped her eyes. The prospect of a funeral was consoling. It helped +her to forget her loss.</p> + +<p>"Tie a ribbon round your hat?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish."</p> + +<p>"Mine too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And wait till Charley and Amy come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"Goody!"</p> + +<p>She caught up Dinah, and went skipping about the porch.</p> + +<p>"Going to have a funeral. Did you know it? Why don't you ask who is +dead? Course somebody is. Couldn't have a funeral without somebody dead! +It isn't me, and it isn't you. Nor anybody in this house. Did you think +it was? No. It is a robin. You can go because you have a black face. +Always wear black to funerals. I will, and Bertie will,—round our hats. +You mustn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> laugh. Good folks don't laugh at funerals, and I don't. +Only bad. There's a worm. Want to look? That is the robin's breakfast +going home. He lives down there under a plank. I can't lift it, and you +can't. Bertie can. He don't want no more breakfast. Course not! He is +going to be dead. Bury him when Amy and Charley come. Somewhere. Do you +know where? I don't. Bertie does."</p> + +<p>With Dinah in her arms, she met Charley and Amy at the corner when +school was done, with the cheerful tidings.</p> + +<p>"Going to have a funeral!"</p> + +<p>"No!" said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Are too, Charley Waters."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Now."</p> + +<p>"Where?" inquired Amy, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"There," pointing towards home.</p> + +<p>"Not at our house?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be. Nobody is dead."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't have a funeral without somebody dead."</p> + +<p>"Flora, is anybody dead?"</p> + +<p>"He is."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"The robin. Died to-day. Going to have a funeral in the porch."</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" laughed Charley.</p> + +<p>"You have given me such a fright!" said Amy. "I have not strength enough +left to take me home."</p> + +<p>Charley offered to carry her on his back, but she declined the offer. +After leaning against a tree for a moment, she was able to go on.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what the dear child means, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't the least idea," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"And what is Bertie so busy about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Can't make that out either."</p> + +<p>"What is Bertie doing, pet?"</p> + +<p>"Making the box," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"What box?"</p> + +<p>"Can't bury the robin without making a box!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Course not. You ought to know better."</p> + +<p>"That's so. When did Mr. R. shuffle off, &c.?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't go nowhere, only to be dead."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"And when Bertie gets the box done, we must form a line and march. Me +and Dinah will go first, because she is the blackest."</p> + +<p>"Good. She shall be chief mourner."</p> + +<p>"Me, too."</p> + +<p>"You shall be the marshal."</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>She had not the slightest idea what it was to be the marshal but she +liked the sound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> of it. Bertie was not long in finishing the box. Before +they put the birdy in, Amy brought a handful of hay and made a soft +nest. She could not bear to see it lying on the bottom of the hard box. +Bertie nailed the cover on, and bored a hole with a gimlet. "To look +through," he said. But as the hole was very small, and it was very dark +inside, you could not see anything.</p> + +<p>Bertie wanted to march with the box under his arm and the spade over his +shoulder, but Flora insisted upon the wheelbarrow, and as Flora was the +marshal, the wheelbarrow was brought out to head the procession. Flora +and Dinah followed as chief mourners, while Amy and Charley walked in +single file to make the procession as long as possible. They marched +round and round the grounds as long as Flora wished, and then Bertie dug +a deep hole in the middle of Amy's garden, and buried the robin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>BERTIE MEETS JACK MIDNIGHT AT THE SPRING.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.f.jpg" alt="F" title="F" /></div><p>lora enjoyed the funeral very much. She had never had a dead bird to +bury before, and she thought it a very nice thing; so nice in fact, that +she meant to come back some day and have it over again. So she marked +the spot with a stick, that she might know where to find the bird when +she wanted it for another funeral. That it was hid from her sight +forever she had not the least idea, or that she could not re-bury it +whenever she choose. So she planted the stick, and went away with a +happy heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>When she knew that the birdy could be buried only once, and that she was +not to disturb the spot, she mourned her loss afresh. But Amy told her +she would plant a daisy on the little mound, and it should be her own, +and she should think of her bird whenever the flowers bloomed. And +Charley promised to buy a bright yellow canary, if he could ever save +money enough, and it should be "a regular screamer." She wanted Bertie +to make the cage at once, but Bertie thought he could not make a cage +good enough for a canary. He would have a beauty on hand, however, by +the time Charley got ready to purchase the bird. This was meant as a sly +hit at Charley who never had any money. He fully intended to buy the +bird, but canaries cost money, and Charley's pockets were always empty, +so far as money was concerned.</p> + +<p>Flora had little faith in Charley's promises.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> Bertie had a new idea in +his head. He wanted to prepare a trap for a musk-rat. That was why he +could not attend to making the cage. If he succeeded in catching +one—and he thought he should, for the spring was full of them—Flora +was to have all the perfumery she wanted. So she was comforted, and in +time—a very short time—forgot all about the robin. Bertie set his +trap, and waited. Nobody believed in the musk-rat but Flora. She had +faith in the success of all Bertie's undertakings. Everybody else +laughed at him for his pains. Charley said he was a "goney," whatever +that may be, and Amy advised him to turn his attention to something +sensible. He travelled down to the spring every morning before +breakfast, and with quickly beating heart examined the trap. There was +nothing in it, but there were tracks all around. He resolved to follow +up those tracks, and see what would come of them. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> was a long walk to +the spring, and a lonely walk. Other traps were set thereabouts, but +their owners lived near by, or came from the upper road. Of course he +never asked for Charley's company. Charley had no faith, and he +ridiculed the idea of going so often on a wild-goose chase. But Bertie +reasoned within himself,—other fellows caught musk-rats, why should not +he? His traps were as good as theirs, his bait the same. To be sure he +never had caught one, but that was no reason he never should. There must +be a first time for every thing. And when he did trap one, wouldn't +Charley change his tune? The spring was alive with musk-rats. One +<i>should</i> find the way into his trap. He hoped it would be a "buster." He +was on the road to the spring, when these thoughts passed through his +mind. There had been a white frost, and the air was keen. He thrust his +hands into his pockets, and ran along, whist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>ling cheerfully. His +spirits were light, and his hopes high. He half expected to find a +musk-rat in his trap. He had made the path to it so easy and inviting, +surely something must have found the way thither. Not a musk-rat, +perhaps, but something. When he got there, he was surprised to find a +boy examining his trap. It was not an agreeable surprise, for the boy +was Jack Midnight; the very last person in the world with whom he +desired to have any dealings. It was the same Jack who dishonestly made +way with Charley's calico rooster. Bertie was angry. Without stopping to +inquire into the circumstances, as he would have done if it had been any +other boy, he at once jumped to a wrong conclusion. He thought that Jack +was plotting mischief, and without waiting for his hot blood to cool, he +called, quickly,</p> + +<p>"Come out of that!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you know what you are gabbing about?" queried Jack.</p> + +<p>"I guess I do."</p> + +<p>"And I guess you don't. Supposing you hold your horses a minute?"</p> + +<p>"It is a mean thing, any how, to meddle with another fellow's trap."</p> + +<p>"It is your trap, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is."</p> + +<p>"Well, who's a meddling?"</p> + +<p>"You."</p> + +<p>"I ain't."</p> + +<p>"You are."</p> + +<p>"I say I ain't; and who knows best, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>You may know that Bertie was angry, or he would not have stooped to +bandy words with such a boy. Besides he would have been afraid, for Jack +was a big boy. He was larger, stronger, and a great deal older than +Bertie, and he was much better qualified<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> for fighting in every way. He +had had a deal of practice. But when a boy is angry, he does not stop to +consider consequences. It was fortunate for Bertie that Jack did not +feel disposed to quarrel with him. He could have shaken him as easily as +a dog shakes a squirrel, and resistance would have been of no avail. For +once, Jack was doing nothing to be ashamed of, and he knew he was right. +That helps a boy a great deal. When he knows he is right, he does not +feel half so much like striking back. Perhaps you think he did strike +back when he replied to Bertie's uncivil words; but you must remember +that Jack was a desperate fellow, and if he had not been well disposed +he would hardly have taken the trouble to strike with his tongue. And +language that would sound very rough from the lips of a better bred boy, +was not so bad, after all, coming from Jack Midnight. He was secretly +very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> much ashamed of his conduct towards the rooster, particularly as +Charley and Bertie had never taken any notice of it. They had simply +allowed him to go his own way, taking care, however, that his track +never crossed theirs. When they could avoid it, they did not speak to +him; when they could not, they were civil in speech—never rude. This +annoyed and humbled Jack. To have enemies that were not enemies, was a +new experience. He looked upon all as against him who were not his +avowed friends. But here were two boys who could not be friends, and, +although he had deeply injured them, he could not call them enemies. He +wanted to do something to show that he was very sorry about the rooster; +something to show that he was not bad, clear through. Bertie's quick +temper flashed, and then went out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It looked very much like it, as I came up," he said, in a more gentle +tone.</p> + +<p>"Somebody's been a meddling," retorted Jack; "but 'twas not me."</p> + +<p>"Who then?"</p> + +<p>Jack pointed to the trap. The bait was gone! Yes, somebody had been +meddling.</p> + +<p>"I should like to know who," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>Jack laughed.</p> + +<p>"Follow them tracks, and may be you'll find him. It is easy getting out +of your trap as well as in."</p> + +<p>Bertie eagerly examined the tracks.</p> + +<p>"Musquash," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that there has really been one in the trap?"</p> + +<p>"Been in and out again. He has had one good meal, perhaps he will come +for another."</p> + +<p>Bertie was so delighted at having caught something that at first he did +not mind its getting away at all; but when he came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> to reflect, he was +sorry to have lost such a prize. If he could only have carried it home +in triumph, how Charley would have stared!</p> + +<p>"If that was my trap," said Jack, "I'd fix it."</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Tinker that spring so that it wouldn't hold fire, you bet."</p> + +<p>"I did not know it needed tinkering."</p> + +<p>"It would puzzle a musquash to get out of <i>my</i> trap. I'd fix it so that +it would go off if he touched it with a whisker."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>Jack gladly offered his services. Here was a chance to make a small +payment on account.</p> + +<p>"If you would be so kind, and not mind my speaking cross just now."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing," returned Jack, shortly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> "Now if I can find anything +to 'couter' with."</p> + +<p>He searched his pockets and brought up a coil of wire, some string, a +file, a pair of pincers, and so many different articles that Bertie +laughingly inquired if he was a travelling tool-chest.</p> + +<p>"Pockets is handy," said Jack, "if they ain't holey. Whenever I come +across anything, I jest drops it in."</p> + +<p>And so he did. Many things went into Jack's pockets that did not belong +there.</p> + +<p>"Now hand us the trap, and we will get ready for the musquash."</p> + +<p>"Will he come again, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"What's to hinder? He knows what good grub is as well as you do. He will +be poking his nose in again as sure as you're born."</p> + +<p>"I hope he will," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever catch one?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Never skun one, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"I have, heaps of all kinds. Sold 'em too. That's a neat trade."</p> + +<p>"Selling them?"</p> + +<p>"Skinning 'em."</p> + +<p>"I expect it is," said Bertie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>A DEADLY SNARE FOR THE MUSK-RAT.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.i.jpg" alt="I" title="I" /></div><p> have been in the business, off and on," continued Jack, "ever since I +was the size of a hop toad."</p> + +<p>"It pays, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"That depends. Sometimes it does, and then again it don't. It's +accordin' to the critter. Mink, now, fitches a fancy price when you can +catch 'em. They are a mighty scarce article now-a-days. But rabbits +ain't worth shucks. It is a job to skin 'em, they are so tender; and +they won't fetch nothing."</p> + +<p>"How about musk-rats?"</p> + +<p>"Got an eye to business, eh?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If I am lucky enough to catch one, I should like to sell the skin."</p> + +<p>"Well, musquash pays if it is skun right."</p> + +<p>"How is that? A skin is a skin, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but a skin with the head on is one thing, and a skin with the head +off is another, as you will find out if you ever try it on."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think that would make any difference."</p> + +<p>"It does a heap. A quarter is the most you can get without the head."</p> + +<p>"And with it?"</p> + +<p>"Fifty cents for a big one."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad you told me," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"It is a little thing worth knowing," returned Jack. "Never caught a +pole-cat, I take it."</p> + +<p>"I never caught anything," said Bertie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Seen 'em?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that ever I did."</p> + +<p>"Smelt 'em?"</p> + +<p>Bertie confessed that he had no acquaintance whatever with the animal, +but mentioned that once they found a skunk in Charley's chicken-house +sucking eggs, and they killed it.</p> + +<p>"Him's um," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't cook it, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Cook it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Eat, of course."</p> + +<p>Bertie could not conceal his disgust.</p> + +<p>"You needn't turn up your nose at <i>him</i>," continued Jack. "Good eating +<i>he</i> is. Tender as a sucking pig, and tastes so nigh like I'd stump +<i>you</i> to tell the difference."</p> + +<p>Jack was going to say "tender as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> chicken," but he remembered the +calico and so avoided the use of the word.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are joking," declared Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it," said Jack. "I wouldn't ask for a better dinner. The +critter is like some other folks, not half so bad as you try to make him +out. He has got a bad name, and that is the worst thing there is about +him."</p> + +<p>"Except his odor."</p> + +<p>"That's not so bad either after you get used to it."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!"</p> + +<p>"Musquash is no better, if they do pay a good price for it."</p> + +<p>"Do they?"</p> + +<p>"They do. To make scent of for the ladies. One of them little bags will +make gallons and gallons, they say. I know a man that buys all he can +get. There you are!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> A heap better off than you was before. I reckon +that trap will hold a musquash next time it catches one."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"And if the spring don't happen to kill him, just touch him on the head +with a stone. A little tap will do it, for he is mighty tender about the +head."</p> + +<p>Bertie said "Thank you" again, and Jack helped him bait and set the +trap, and this time a deadly snare was laid for the musk-rat. Bertie was +late to breakfast. Charley looked up inquiringly as he walked in and +took his seat at the table; but Bertie had not a word of explanation to +offer. Charley had laughed at him so often that he meant to keep his own +counsel till the game was sure; but he could not help showing in his +face that something unusual had happened.</p> + +<p>"Catch anything?" said Charley.</p> + +<p>"No."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Trap sprung?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Nothing in it, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I thought so."</p> + +<p>Bertie laughed as he considered how <i>very</i> empty the trap was.</p> + +<p>"What are you laughing at?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Meet anybody up there?"</p> + +<p>"One fellow."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Jack Midnight."</p> + +<p>"What was he doing?"</p> + +<p>"Looking round."</p> + +<p>"Give you any of his impudence?"</p> + +<p>"No. He was very civil and obliging. He offered to fix the spring of my +trap."</p> + +<p>"You didn't let him?"</p> + +<p>"I could not refuse without hurting his feelings, and I did not want to +do that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should, plump. My feelings are not seared over yet. I have not +forgotten the calico."</p> + +<p>"And he has not."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe it?"</p> + +<p>"I do, Charley. I think he feels awful cheap about it."</p> + +<p>"I hope he does."</p> + +<p>"I know he does."</p> + +<p>"He didn't say so?"</p> + +<p>"No; but he acted so."</p> + +<p>"If he feels cheap I hope he will stay so and keep his distance."</p> + +<p>Bertie hoped so too. He was very much obliged to Jack for helping him +with the trap, but he did not care to be on familiar terms with him. He +was not the right sort of boy for a companion. On the whole he was sorry +to have met him at the spring.</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall not fall in with him to-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>morrow morning," he said, half +to himself, half to Charley.</p> + +<p>"You won't if you stay at home."</p> + +<p>"I shall not do that."</p> + +<p>"You intend to follow up the trapping business then?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"If you meet Jack Midnight every morning?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"Till I catch something."</p> + +<p>"If it takes all summer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, you <i>are</i> a goose."</p> + +<p>"You have told me that so often, I begin to believe it."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't take that early walk for nothing."</p> + +<p>"No more would I. But if you felt sure of your game, you wouldn't mind +the walk."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Whew!"</p> + +<p>"I am as sure as I can be of anything that has not really happened."</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho! That is very well put in. I wish I had as many dollars as I +know you won't catch a musk-rat. I could buy the Baby Pitcher's canary +to-morrow. Couldn't I, pet?"</p> + +<p>Flora had come in, as she did every morning, to inquire about the +musk-rat.</p> + +<p>"Buy it to-day," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't buy it to-day for want of money."</p> + +<p>"You must not think anything about the bird," said Bertie, "for Charley +never will have any money."</p> + +<p>"What a prospect!" said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Not a very bright one for Flora, I must confess."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She has my word, and that is as good as gold."</p> + +<p>"Mustn't tell a story," said Flora. "If you don't have any money that +will be a story."</p> + +<p>"And if Bertie does not catch a musk-rat, that will be a story."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He said he would."</p> + +<p>"And I will. You believe that I will keep my word?"</p> + +<p>"I do, and Dinah does."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe in the musk-rat?"</p> + +<p>"I do. Is he in the trap?"</p> + +<p>"He was not in the trap this morning."</p> + +<p>"May be there now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, he may be."</p> + +<p>"And then again he mayn't," said Charley. "If I were in the Baby +Pitcher's place I would give up looking for that animal. Her poor little +black eyes will be all faded out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Won't either, Charley Waters. I am going home."</p> + +<p>"Say good by, dear."</p> + +<p>Flora would not say good by. She did not like Charley's manner. She +wished to be treated with proper respect as she informed Dinah on the +way home.</p> + +<p>"Gemplemen don't talk so, and ladies don't. Gemplemen say 'Yes, I thank +you,' and 'If you please.' And I do. Charley Waters don't. But you must +not mind what he says. He don't know nothing. Bertie does."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>SOMETHING IN THE TRAP.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div><p>he next time Bertie went to the spring, he expected to find Jack +awaiting him. No one was there, however; not even the musk-rat. The trap +remained just as he left it, and the bait was undisturbed. He was glad +not to meet Jack (who had been and gone); but he was not a little +disappointed about the musk-rat. He began to cherish hard feelings +towards it. It was too bad of him not to come into the trap and be +caught, when such pains had been taken to receive him properly. The trap +was as inviting as trap could be. It said quite plainly, "Will you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> walk +into my parlor?" and never dropped a word as to getting out again. What +more could a musk-rat ask? He examined the tracks in the wet ground, but +could not make out that any of them were fresh. He did not believe that +anything had been near the trap during the night. It was quite +provoking, for to-morrow would be Sunday. Of course he could not travel +down to the spring on Sunday, and Monday was so far off! He declared +that he could not wait till Monday. But there was no help for it. The +hours were not at all disposed to humor his impatience. They moved along +at their usual slow pace, and wore away minute by minute, as was their +custom. But they brought Monday morning at last. He rose early, and set +out in quite a hopeful mood; but as he walked, his spirits began to +flag. The nearer he got to the spring, the less hope he had. He was +trying to prepare himself for the very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> worst that could happen—a trap +with nothing in it—when somebody called "Hooray!" It was Jack, who had +been waiting almost an hour. When he saw Bertie coming, he danced and +threw his arms about in a manner wonderful to behold. Bertie started +into a run, for he inferred from Jack's antics that something unusual +had happened.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img079.jpg" + alt="The Funeral." /><br /> + <b>What have you got to say to that critter? <a href='#Page_78'><b>p. 78.</b></a></b> + </div> + +<p>"Hooray!" cried Jack again, as Bertie came up, panting and blowing equal +to Jack himself, who always breathed as if he had been running.</p> + +<p>"What have you got to say to <i>that</i> critter?"</p> + +<p>Bertie could hardly believe his eyes, for they rested on the biggest +musk-rat he had ever seen. It was a beauty, too! Such dark fur! And such +a length of smooth, hairless tail! Bertie was delighted; and though the +musk-rat was a large one, his eyes magnified <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>it to such a degree that +it looked three times as large as it really was.</p> + +<p>"That is a sight worth looking at, ain't it now?"</p> + +<p>"It is a buster!" said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"It is the biggest fellow that has been trapped this season. You won't +catch nary 'nother like <i>him</i>. He is a whopper!"</p> + +<p>"And it is alive, too!"</p> + +<p>"Half and half. He is hurt that bad, it won't take much to finish him. +He would show fight if he wasn't dead beat. Shall I pop him over?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to kill him," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Have you had a fair squint at him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I won't be long settling of his hash."</p> + +<p>Jack tapped him on the head with a stone, and after a few shivers the +animal was still.</p> + +<p>"That killed him so sudden he didn't know what was a hurting of him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why did he shiver then?"</p> + +<p>"They always do that. They always wiggle when the heart's a-beating. +They are dead all the same, though. Now you want to take his hide off."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," said Bertie, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Better be a doing of it while he is warm."</p> + +<p>"I must show him up first."</p> + +<p>As he raised the musk-rat tenderly by the long, bare tail, his heart +swelled in his breast. What would Charley say to musk-rat catching now? +He himself had never dreamed of luck like this, and Charley would be +astounded. He was absently moving off, when Jack called:</p> + +<p>"Here, you young trapper! Don't be a-dodging off without making ready +for more of the same family!"</p> + +<p>"I shall not set the trap again," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"What's the reason?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is a long walk up here, and I am satisfied with my game," he added, +proudly.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind lending of it to a feller?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. You can keep it as long as you wish."</p> + +<p>"That is clever, now. I'll set it in the same place, jest for luck. I +say, don't you want some help about skinning the critter?"</p> + +<p>Bertie thought he could manage it alone.</p> + +<p>"It will be an awkward job, if you never tried it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it will," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"And you may spile the head. I don't mind showing of you how it's done."</p> + +<p>Bertie thanked Jack, but declined to trouble him. The fact was, he was +in a hurry to get home with his prize. He could not stop to talk about +anything, for Charley had not seen it. Didn't he open his black eyes +when he saw what Bertie had brought?</p> + +<p>And didn't Bertie feel proud and happy?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> But he did not make much ado +about his good fortune, as Charley would have done under similar +circumstances. He allowed the game to speak for itself. At first Charley +was inclined to doubt that it was caught in Bertie's trap; but Bertie +asked—with some vanity, we confess—if he could mention any boy who +would be likely to give up an animal like that, and Charley could not.</p> + +<p>Everybody came out to examine Bertie's prize, and everybody said it was +a beauty. Flora clapped her hands, for now she was to have all the +'fumery she wanted. It lay at full length on the piazza, until it had +been duly admired by every one on the premises, and then it was carried +over to Grandma's.</p> + +<p>"Bless me!" exclaimed the old lady, as the children rushed in and laid +the musk-rat at her feet.</p> + +<p>"Bless me! Open that window, Amy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> dear. I never can breathe with a +creetur like that in the house. Take it right out, dears."</p> + +<p>"But we want you to look at it, Grandma. Bertie caught it."</p> + +<p>"In the trap," added Flora.</p> + +<p>She patted Bertie on the head, and said he was a dear boy, but she +should stifle if they did not carry the creetur out. So to please +Grandma they carried it out and laid it on the door-stone. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> could +look at it from the open window with a handkerchief at her nose.</p> + +<p>"Ain't it a stunner?" said Charley.</p> + +<p>"It is a proper large one," said Grandma. "It makes me think of your +father, Amy, dear, when he was a boy. He was always fetching home some +sort of a creetur. La! how natural it does seem. I remember once he took +to killing black cats. He fetched home as many as twenty altogether, and +their skins, stretched out to dry on the side of the barn, stared me in +the face every time I went into the yard. How this creetur does carry a +body back, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"This fellow wears a pretty jacket," said Charley. "I wish we knew the +easiest way of getting it off. Do you know, Grandma?"</p> + +<p>"La, child, I never was no hand for such doings."</p> + +<p>"What a question," said Amy. "Of course Grandma does not know."</p> + +<p>"We had better commence operations, if we expect to get through before +school time," said Bertie. "That is, if Grandma has looked at him long +enough. Have you, Grandma?"</p> + +<p>"Bless the child!" said Grandma, who had endured the creature simply to +please her darlings. "Never mind staying longer on my account. But drop +in as you go to school, and get your luncheon."</p> + +<p>"Tarts?" queried Bertie.</p> + +<p>But Grandma smiled and closed the win<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>dow, to shut out, if possible, the +stifling odor of musk.</p> + +<p>"I almost wish I had taken up with Jack's offer," Bertie said to +Charley, as they carried the musk-rat home.</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"He wanted to skin the fellow for me."</p> + +<p>"I can boss that job," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"And so can I?"</p> + +<p>That was a part both understood, and it was the only part.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>JACK PULLS OFF THE WARM JACKET.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.b.jpg" alt="B" title="B" /></div><p>ertie sharpened his knife and prepared to commence operations, Charley, +Amy and Flora looking on.</p> + +<p>"You begin on the inside of the hind leg," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know where to begin and where to leave off; but the thing is to +do it neatly, without making a botch. Here goes."</p> + +<p>Bertie flourished his knife and began to cut. He made a long slit on the +inside of one hind leg.</p> + +<p>"Treat them both alike," said Charley.</p> + +<p>Flora, who had been watching the operation, suddenly cried out:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take your arms down and go away. You are a bad boy. Charley Waters says +so; and I do."</p> + +<p>Bertie turned quickly to see what, was the matter; and there stood Jack, +with folded arms, resting upon the fence. He tried to call Flora off; +but she flew at Jack with all the fury of a little terrier, her light +curls flying and her dark eyes flashing.</p> + +<p>"You are a bad boy, and you must go away. You cut his head off and his +feet. I looked under the table. He hadn't any clothes on. Had drumsticks +on. Couldn't walk with drumsticks on. Bad boy!"</p> + +<p>Here was a revelation that made Jack feel very small indeed. He came as +near blushing as was possible. The red blood actually showed through his +dark, grimy skin. Bertie was sorry for him. He hastened to open the gate +and bid him come in, a movement that astonished Flora. She had not +another word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> to say. When the boy that killed the calico-rooster was +invited to walk in at the gate, as if nothing had happened, she was +struck dumb.</p> + +<p>"You were very good to look in upon us," said Bertie, kindly, trying to +make Jack comfortable. "Walk right along. You are in the nick of time; +we had only just started."</p> + +<p>Jack was completely taken aback by Flora's reception, for he was sure +now that the fate of the calico was well known. There had been a +pleasant doubt in his mind before. He had always said to himself, "They +can't prove nothing." He hung his head in an awkward way, and blamed +himself for getting into a scrape.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd peek in and see how you were getting along," he answered, +sheepishly; "and now I am here, I may as well be a-lending a hand. Give +us yer knife."</p> + +<p>"I had barely got his stockings off," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> Bertie, passing the knife. +Jack felt the edge and then examined Bertie's work.</p> + +<p>"Pooty well done to begin with, I call it."</p> + +<p>"Do you, though?"</p> + +<p>"For a green-horn, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know."</p> + +<p>Jack began where Bertie left off, and he worked so skilfully that in a +few minutes legs and arms were free, and the warm jacket was turned and +pulled over the animal's head.</p> + +<p>"He isn't quite so much of a beauty, come to peel him," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"He is frightful!" declared Amy. "What a net-work of blue veins! They +make me shudder."</p> + +<p>"He looks like a map, with rivers running all over him," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"And how he shines. Ugh!"</p> + +<p>Bertie held up the empty skin.</p> + +<p>"He is as much beholden to dress as anybody that ever I saw, and he +wears the best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> of cloth too. Custom made, and no danger of a misfit. +None of your slop work about <i>that</i> garment!"</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't call that a garment," said Amy.</p> + +<p>"It is a wardrobe in itself, hat and boots included. He did not carry a +'Saratoga' when he went journeying."</p> + +<p>"Not much," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"What is Jack doing now?"</p> + +<p>He was detaching the little sacks that hold the musk, and he passed them +to Bertie, with the remark that they were worth as much as the critter's +hide.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" exclaimed Charley, examining them curiously.</p> + +<p>"Flora ought to be here. I suppose the 'fumery' belongs to her."</p> + +<p>"To the little miss, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"There is scent enough in one of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> bags," said Jack, "to drive the +whole family out of the house."</p> + +<p>Bertie thought if that was the case, one would be better for Flora than +two; so he put one aside and gave the other to Jack, who carefully +wrapped it in paper and dropped it into his roomy pocket. The skin was +then stretched on a board to dry, and, after receiving hearty thanks for +his timely assistance, Jack left the garden, feeling much better +satisfied with himself than when he entered it. He felt that he had +shown his good will, and that the score against him was partially rubbed +out. And so it was. Charley and Bertie were more kindly disposed towards +him than they had ever expected to be, and they concluded that he was +not such a very bad boy, after all.</p> + +<p>"I believe there is good in every one," said Bertie, "if you can only +get at it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course there is," said Amy, quickly. "Have you just found that out?"</p> + +<p>"I admit that I have always looked upon Jack as bad clear through."</p> + +<p>"Same here," confessed Charley.</p> + +<p>"Nobody is," declared Amy, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"It takes these girls to stand up for a fellow, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"That's so, Charley. Girls in general, and our Amy in particular."</p> + +<p>"She always did side with Jack; but she was down on me when the poor +calico turned over her garden."</p> + +<p>"Why, Charley!"</p> + +<p>"It is a fact. I leave it to Bert."</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"You flared up and were truly eloquent on the subject."</p> + +<p>"I never was eloquent in my life."</p> + +<p>"And you never flared up?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that. But whatever I may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> be, I am not a genius of any +sort, not even a poet."</p> + +<p>"There's a sly dab at you, Charley."</p> + +<p>"I have not made any poetry lately," said Charley, dubiously.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the fire in your soul has gone out," said Bertie. "Can't you +kindle it up again?"</p> + +<p>"I am out of kindlings at present. Can I borrow of you, Amy?"</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be the first time," observed Amy, with a merry twinkle in +her eye.</p> + +<p>"Stabbed again!" declared Bertie, who knew that Charley was in the habit +of borrowing.</p> + +<p>Amy's purse being well fed, was always fat, and Charley's was ever lean +and hungry. Amy was obliging, and Charley not backward in asking favors, +so the lean and hungry purse often brought its pressing needs to the +notice of its rich relation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Amy is a trump!" said Charley, penitently, "and I take it all back. I +am as good a friend to Jack as she is, but I can't exactly swallow the +rooster. He sticks in my throat yet."</p> + +<p>"That will wear away in time," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"If the rooster troubles you, what do you think of Jack? He has a bigger +lump in his throat than you have, and one that will not go down in a +hurry, I'll warrant."</p> + +<p>"And I pity him," added Amy. "He stole the poor rooster and murdered him +in cold blood, but he is sorry for it, and would bring him to life again +if he could. But he cannot do that. He must be haunted forever by its +ghost instead."</p> + +<p>"Ghost of a rooster!" murmured Charley, in an undertone. But Amy heard +it.</p> + +<p>"Ghost of an evil action," she said, looking at Charley, severely. "He +would be rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> a respectable boy, if he was not a Midnight. You cannot +expect much of a born Midnight."</p> + +<p>"No," said Charley.</p> + +<p>It was agreed that to be a born Midnight was a serious misfortune, which +might happen to anybody. It did happen to poor Jack, and so they pitied +him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<h3>FLORA AN EXILE.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.f.jpg" alt="F" title="F" /></div><p>lora did not wait to receive her perfumery. When Jack appeared on the +field she left it, to express her views to Dinah on the subject of bad +boys; and as Dinah had not the power of expressing her sentiments in +return, she was not disturbed by the spirit of contradiction.</p> + +<p>When she got tired of talking to Dinah, she walked over to state her +grievance to Grandma, and to be on hand when the tarts were distributed. +Flora was not old enough to go to school. Her troubles in that direction +had not yet begun, but lunch with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> was a very important matter, and +she never failed to be present when it was passed round. Grandma always +had something good ready for the children. "The dear things get so +hungry studying," she said. When she was young, three months schooling +in the winter was enough for any one.</p> + +<p>It was early in the day for lunch, (breakfast was a little more than an +hour old), but Flora could not be put off. She did not possess the +virtue of patience. So when the children happened in as they were going +to school, she stood at the window eating her way through an enormous +tart, which had been made expressly for her: but why the Baby Pitcher +should have the largest tart, only Grandma could tell. The children came +in bringing the full odor of musk in their clothes and in their hair, +and Bertie had the little bag in his pocket. Grandma gasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> and opened +all the windows, for she could not breathe the stifling air.</p> + +<p>"Bless the dear things!" she exclaimed. "How they do smell, to be sure!"</p> + +<p>"Smells good!" said Flora, holding out her hand for the "'fumery."</p> + +<p>Bertie gave it to her, and as Grandma could not bear it in the house, +she was obliged to take it out of doors.</p> + +<p>"The air is better now, isn't it, Grandma?" said Bertie, feelingly.</p> + +<p>It was not much better, though Grandma did not say so. The small +particles were floating about, and she was inhaling them with every +breath. She passed round the tarts as speedily as possible, and then the +Little Pitchers were in a hurry to be off. But they did not carry all +the musk away; they left enough to pervade Grandma's house for several +days. But that was only a beginning. Everybody grew tired of the odor +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>fore the skin of the musk-rat was carried away and sold. There was +musk everywhere, in doors and out; and wherever Flora was, the perfume +was sickening. But she would not give it up. She carried the little +sack, which had become dry and hard, in the pocket of her dress from +morning until night, and mamma waited in vain for her to weary of it. At +last it was banished from the house. Mamma decided that it could not +longer be endured. Flora hid it somewhere in the garden, (the place was +known only to herself and Dinah,) and every day enjoyed it as best she +could, in the open air and alone. Even Charley and Bertie were tired of +musk, and they tried first to coax and then to bribe Flora, without +success. Finally they laughed at her, and called her a little cosset.</p> + +<p>"I ain't that," she said to Charley, who gave her the name. She always +doubted Charley. "I ain't anything but a little girl."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And a cosset."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You are turned out to grass, any how."</p> + +<p>"Am I, Bertie?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. We will play you are an exile."</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"She had no clear idea of an exile, nor of a cosset; but she had faith +in Bertie, and she felt that an exile must be something very nice."</p> + +<p>"You are an exile," said Charley, "because you cannot go into Grandma's +house."</p> + +<p>"Am I, Bertie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>It was true. She could not go into Grandma's house. She had to choose +between Grandma and the perfumery. But she could stay out on the +door-stone, as the musk-rat had done; and when Grandma talked to her +from the window, she was not obliged to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> hold a handkerchief to her +nose, as she did when the musk-rat was there. She well knew how to make +amends to the dear child for her cruelty in keeping her out of doors; +and such tempting sweetmeats passed through the window, and such +wonderful shapes of gingerbread, that Flora was very happy in her +banishment. The little exile was not wholly deprived of society, for it +happened, fortunately, that the black baby had no sense of smell. +Whether she had lost it or was born without it, Flora never knew; but +she did not possess it, and so was not annoyed by the odor that troubled +everybody else. It was not long before she was as highly perfumed as her +mistress, and could not be tolerated in the house even for a nap. The +black baby was in disgrace, and she was knocked about so roughly that +her complexion was spoiled and her fine figure very much injured. Flora +had serious thoughts of send<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>ing her to be repaired; but she wondered +how she got so many bumps. She did not know that everybody took the +liberty of tossing her out whenever she was found in doors. It was a +common thing to come upon her in unexpected places. Sometimes Flora met +her at the foot of the steps, sometimes at the bottom of the garden; and +once, after a long search, she was discovered hanging from the bough of +a tree, with arms extended as if pleading for help. Flora could not +reach her, and she was brought down from her perilous position by +Charley and a ladder.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame her for trying to hang herself," said Charley, who saw +the housemaid when she threw her out of an upper window, "and I hope she +will have better luck next time."</p> + +<p>"Didn't hang herself," replied Flora.</p> + +<p>"Wanted to fly."</p> + +<p>"Like a bird."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She did."</p> + +<p>"Thought she was a blackbird, may be."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flora, clapping her hands and laughing, "thought she was."</p> + +<p>"She was flying away from the musk."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I believe she was," said Charley, solemnly, "and if you take your eyes +off I am afraid you will lose her. You must watch her closely."</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>Flora held the baby tightly in her arms, to prevent her soaring out of +sight.</p> + +<p>"Can't fly now, Charley Waters."</p> + +<p>"No, but you must hold on."</p> + +<p>Flora held on tighter than ever.</p> + +<p>"And I would not let her go into the house any more," continued Charley. +"It does not agree with her. She cannot stay in the house."</p> + +<p>"Keep her in the garden."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I would."</p> + +<p>"In the arbor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Charley, after pausing to weigh the matter, "I would keep +her in the arbor."</p> + +<p>So Dinah was forced to give up her old quarters in the house for a new +home in the arbor, and Flora informed her why the change was made. For a +time she was closely watched, but as she did not again attempt to fly +away, Flora concluded she was contented in her new situation, and, after +a while, ventured to carry her indoors occasionally. But Charley was +right. Dinah could not stay in the house. She was sure to be tossed out +by somebody, though Flora did not know that. She thought the black baby +was pining for the outer air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>FLORA GOES TO RIDE IN THE LITTLE BLUE CART.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.f.jpg" alt="F" title="F" /></div><p>lora began to grow tired of staying so much alone, but she was not +ready to give up the "'fumery," so she had to continue an exile. Dinah +was no longer good company, for she had lost many of her faculties, and +one eye. She glanced at Flora, with the one that was left, in a very +singular manner. Perhaps she wanted to explain to her mistress that +somebody had taken a fancy to the blue button, but you must remember she +could not talk. She could only stare in a very startling way. Flora did +not like it at all, and at Amy's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> suggestion tied a bandage round her +head, which completely hid the defect, and softened the expression of +the blue button remaining. She was supposed to be sweetly sleeping in +the library this pleasant afternoon. She was really lying in a heap on +the kitchen door step, and Flora, for lack of something better to do was +hanging lazily on the big gate, gazing down the road. She was in that +critical condition when mischief "takes."</p> + +<p>She had climbed the gate and was hanging there, ready to be swayed by +the first wind that blew, whether fair or foul. It happened to be a foul +wind, and it came in the form of a queer little cart drawn by a limping +horse moving slowly up the road. The body of the cart was a square box, +and it was painted blue. The wheels were red. The old horse had been +gray in his palmy days; he was now a dingy white. Flora liked him +because he looked sober, and because he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> jumped so high when he walked; +and when the cart got near enough for her to see its bright colors, she +concluded to take a ride. So she got down, drew the bolt and opened the +big gate (thereby breaking one of mamma's rules), and then she went out +and waited at the side of the road for her carriage. The limping horse +jumped so high at every step that he did not get over the ground very +fast, and Flora had some time to wait. Long enough to realize that she +was about to do a very wrong thing, and grieve mamma. But she did not +once think of that; her head was turned by the little blue cart, and the +old white horse. When the driver came within speaking distance, she +nodded as a signal for him to stop, and he, thinking the child had +business with him said "Whoa!" and the horse stopped.</p> + +<p>"Anything in my line to-day, little girl?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flora. "I should like—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Any soap grease, old boots—iron, bottles, rags, newspapers? Carry the +best of soap, and pay cash on the nail. Eight cents for white, three for +colored."</p> + +<p>"To take a ride," said Flora, somewhat bewildered, but finishing her +sentence.</p> + +<p>"Hey?"</p> + +<p>"If you please, I should like to take a ride."</p> + +<p>"Not with me?"</p> + +<p>"I should."</p> + +<p>"Not in this cart?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is a very pretty cart, and I like your horse very much."</p> + +<p>"You do, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"And I don't. That's the odds. He is rayther antiquated even for my +business. The crows will have a bone or two to pick with him one of +these days. Think they won't?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img111.jpg" + alt="If you please, I should like to take a ride" /><br /> + <b>If you please, I should like to take a ride? <a href='#Page_109'><b>p. 109.</b></a></b> + </div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you please I should like to take a ride," said Flora, for the third +time.</p> + +<p>"Polly want a cracker?"</p> + +<p>Flora did not understand what the driver meant by that, so she again +repeated her request, at which he laughed heartily and said,—</p> + +<p>"Polly does want a cracker."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you give it to her?" queried Flora.</p> + +<p>"Would you?"</p> + +<p>"I would."</p> + +<p>"You are particular who you ride with, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"You pick and choose your company, you do."</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, scramble up. The seat is rayther narrow, but we can stow +close."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That is not polite. Gemplemen don't do that way."</p> + +<p>"They don't, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No. They get down and help ladies up."</p> + +<p>"You don't expect me to get down!"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"What! when I have been bobbing round all day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" said Flora.</p> + +<p>"Can't do it. I've got the rheumatiz."</p> + +<p>"My Grandma has that,—in her back."</p> + +<p>"She does, eh?"</p> + +<p>Flora nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, you may give my respects to the old lady, when you see her, and +tell her I have got it too."</p> + +<p>"I will. Want to go to ride, now."</p> + +<p>"And you won't scramble up?"</p> + +<p>"Want you to get down."</p> + +<p>The driver laughed, but held out his hand, and bade her take a good +hold. The hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> was very red, and it was greasy; but Flora did not mind +that. She grasped it firmly, and was lifted to the narrow seat, and then +the lame horse started into a jog. Beside being narrow, the seat was so +short that Flora had to sit very close to the greasy driver, and her +pretty blue dress was not improved by contact with his frock, which was +blue, also.</p> + +<p>"Papa's horse does not dance that way," she said, regretfully.</p> + +<p>"It isn't every horse that can be trained to that sort of thing," +returned the driver, gravely. "Mine, now, is one out of a thousand. How +will your pa swap?"</p> + +<p>"I wish he would," she answered earnestly, for the first time looking +her companion full in the face. "Why!" she exclaimed, joyfully, "It is +you, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! it's me. Have you just found that out?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you was a stranger."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You did, eh!"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"I knew you was a stranger all the time."</p> + +<p>"But I ain't."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am Flora Lee."</p> + +<p>"And who am I?"</p> + +<p>"You are Mr. Podge."</p> + +<p>"Podge?"</p> + +<p>"You are."</p> + +<p>"Not if I know myself."</p> + +<p>"You are, too, Mr. Hodge Podge. That's what you told me. Don't you +remember your own name?"</p> + +<p>He remembered all about it now, and he laughed so heartily at the +recollection, that he dropped the reins, and had to get down to pick +them up, which pleased Flora very much. When the reins dropped, the +limping horse stood still.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it was you, Miss Fiddle-de-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>dee," he said, as he mounted +to his seat, and urged him into a jog again.</p> + +<p>"How is Deacon Brown?"</p> + +<p>"He is pretty well, I thank you. My name is Flora Lee."</p> + +<p>"And how are all the Sunday children?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! they are pretty well, I thank you too. And I am; and Dinah is. She +is asleep."</p> + +<p>"You have had your face washed since I saw you last. That is the reason +I didn't know you. I never saw you with a clean face before."</p> + +<p>"Hands, too," said Flora, holding out one plump hand. She was holding on +with the other.</p> + +<p>"How we are slicked up!" he exclaimed, "and it isn't Sunday, either!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>SHE SAYS GOOD-BY TO THE SOAP MAN.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div><p>he readers of the Little Pitcher stories will recognize this young man. +Flora met him one day in a crowd around a peddler's wagon, drawn thither +by a poor blind kitten that had been brought to light from the depths of +the peddler's rag-bag. She had not forgotten him, but he never would +have thought of her again, if she had not addressed him by the odd name +he had given her as his own. That refreshed his memory, and he laughed +to think that she really believed him when he told her his name was +Hodge Podge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the little cart was jerked along over the rough ground, Flora became +very chatty. She did not in the least mind being jolted, and she was not +afraid of falling from the seat for she held fast to the driver's greasy +frock. The blue box behind her was full of soap grease, but the cover +was down, and the baskets that hung upon the iron hooks that bristled +from all sides, were filled with bottles and scraps of various kinds, +that made a pleasant jingle as they were jostled against each other by +the motion of the cart. She had never enjoyed a ride so much. Her +father's easy carriage, with cushioned seat and elastic springs, could +not be compared to the soap man's little box on red wheels. Besides, +papa's horse could not dance, he had never learned how; and he ran so +fast that she could not see the flowers and the pretty sights as they +rode along. She was not at all concerned as to how the ride would end,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +and where she was going she had not the slightest idea. So the old horse +jogged along, carrying her farther and farther from home every minute, +and she chatted sociably with Mr. Podge, and never felt so happy in her +life.</p> + +<p>The soap man was going home. He felt good-natured and comfortable, for +he had had a prosperous day. It was only four o'clock, but his little +cart was well loaded, and his last call had been made. And that was the +reason he did not stop at any of the houses in the village. If he had, +somebody would have recognized Flora. And they passed a very few persons +on the road, but not one who knew that the little girl in the blue dress +did not belong to the man in the blue frock. When he thought Flora had +rode far enough, he stopped the cart and told her to "hop down." But she +was not ready to hop down; she was just beginning to enjoy the ride.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You won't know the way back," he said, warningly.</p> + +<p>"I shall," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"And if you ride any farther, I may not let you go home at all. You +don't know where you are now."</p> + +<p>"I do. Going to take a ride."</p> + +<p>"It will be dark by-and-by."</p> + +<p>"Not dark now."</p> + +<p>"And it is going to rain."</p> + +<p>"Make the horse jump."</p> + +<p>The old horse started off once more, and this time a little faster. He +seemed to know that he was heading towards home. The driver was really +troubled about Flora, for he knew the little girl had rode far enough. +He was willing to indulge her by carrying her a little way but he wanted +her to get down when he said the word. He tried to frighten her by +saying he should not stop the horse again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't want to stop," she answered, taking the musk from her pocket and +holding it to his nose. "Smell?"</p> + +<p>He started back and made a wry face.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My 'fumery."</p> + +<p>"Your fumery."</p> + +<p>"It is. Bertie caught it in a trap."</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> what I have been smelling all along."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"I thought there was a musquash somewhere near."</p> + +<p>"It is only me."</p> + +<p>She took a prolonged sniff, and restored the precious perfume to her +pocket.</p> + +<p>"Mamma don't like it, and Grandma don't. I do. And Dinah does. And you +do."</p> + +<p>"Not much, I don't."</p> + +<p>"Smells good?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good and strong, yes. Now little musquash, farewell."</p> + +<p>"No," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"Look here, miss. Won't you catch it for running away?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Podge! What a funny man! Ain't running away. Taking a ride. +Runned away once. To Deacon Brown. Had dinner and a nap."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you tell me you was one of the Sunday children?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it."</p> + +<p>Flora's eyes flashed. Not believe that she was one of the Sunday +children!</p> + +<p>"I don't," he repeated solemnly. "They know how to behave. Sunday +children don't run away, they don't, and good girls mind their mother."</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"A tough one to mind you are."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do, too, Mr. Podge. Want to go home now."</p> + +<p>"You can't stop the horse."</p> + +<p>"I can. Whoa!"</p> + +<p>But he did not stop, for his master slyly urged him on. She was in +earnest now: she really wanted to go home, and she called "Whoa!" again, +but the old horse still jogged on.</p> + +<p>"I told you so," said the driver.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Horse!" she cried in alarm. "Won't you please to stop. I want +to get out. Just one minute, dear Mr. Horse, if you please."</p> + +<p>This appeal seemed to touch his feelings, and, to her great delight, he +stopped.</p> + +<p>"He knows what politeness is, he does," said the driver. "Now look sharp +before you get down, and see if you ever were in this place before."</p> + +<p>Flora did as she was bid, and she saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> orchards white with blossoms, a +rustic bridge, a few scattering houses; but not one familiar object. +They had passed out of the village, and the country was strange to her. +In vain she looked for papa's house, or Grandma's; they were nowhere to +be seen.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Fiddle-de-dee?"</p> + +<p>Flora sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"You are lost, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Can't see papa's house. Too bad!"</p> + +<p>"I thought so."</p> + +<p>He took up the reins, and the poor tired horse turned about unwillingly. +He did not want to go back, and would not believe his master was in +earnest till he felt a sharp tingle from the whip.</p> + +<p>"Don't want to ride any more," said Flora, wearily; "want to get out."</p> + +<p>"Getting scared, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Flora is tired."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>She was beginning to realize her situation, and felt in a hurry to see +home again.</p> + +<p>"I shan't dump you here, miss," said the man, "so you may as well set +still a while longer. If you are lost, likely as not somebody will blame +me. I will carry you back a piece, and when you think you know the road +I will put you down. Lean your head against my arm if you are tired."</p> + +<p>Flora would not do that for she suddenly discovered that the sleeve was +greasy, and she moved as far away from it as the narrow seat would +permit. But she did not dare let go for the cart jolted worse than ever. +The man drove slowly along, and she anxiously scanned the houses as they +passed. Once or twice he stopped, but Flora could not tell where she +was, and not till they got into the village did the surroundings look +familiar. Then she exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Goody! I know now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are sure?"</p> + +<p>"I am. Go that way," pointing in the right direction.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, hop down; and when you beg a ride again, be sure you know +the driver before you get in. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"I do. Good-by, Mr. Podge."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>AND LOSES HER WAY.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.f.jpg" alt="F" title="F" /></div><p>lora jumped down and ran away without thanking the soap man for the +ride, or for his kindness in bringing her so far on her journey home. +She was glad to get away from the cart and the limping horse, and the +poor old horse was glad too. You ought to have seen him when his head +was turned the other way again. He trotted along so briskly with the +little blue cart, that anybody could have told he was running away from +Flora. Perhaps his supper was waiting for him, as Flora's was for her, +and he was in a hurry to eat it. They went so fast in opposite +directions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> that in a few minutes they were out of sight of each other.</p> + +<p>Flora was now glad to walk. She had been so long cramped upon the narrow +seat, that it was a pleasure to stretch her limbs and skip about; or +would have been, only she was so hungry. It is dreadful to be hungry +when there is nothing good to eat in your pocket. There was nothing good +to eat in Flora's pocket. She turned it wrong side out, hoping to find a +few crumbs in the corners, but there was not one; and then she +remembered that it was her blue dress which had been worn but a few +days; not long enough to gather woolly crumbs.</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" she murmured, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was +now more hungry than before. And at that moment a bowl of nice bread and +milk was on the table waiting for her; but between her and it was a +long, weary walk. It would not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> have seemed far to Charley or Bertie, +and it really was only a mile, but a mile is a long journey for little +tired feet, and Flora was hungry too. She could not see very well as she +put the things back into her pocket, the tears blinded her. Perhaps that +was the reason she left something out. And what do you suppose it was? +She walked away and left her precious "'fumery" lying on the ground. Of +course she did not know it, and she felt dreadfully about it afterwards, +but she never could tell where she lost it.</p> + +<p>While she was putting the things back, she felt some spatters on her +head. She looked up, and there was such a black cloud overhead. It was +true, then, what the driver of the blue cart had said. The rain was +coming, and it seemed to be growing dark, too. What if the rain and +darkness should both overtake her before she got home? She must make +haste now. She hurried on as fast as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> her little feet would carry her. +She was running away from the rain and the night. She did not think of +applying at any of the houses for shelter, or of asking for food; she +had but one wish, to get home to dear mamma. By-and-by the tired feet +began to flag, but she felt no more spatters, and she was glad that she +had left the shower behind. It was lighter, too; she could run faster +than the night. As there was to be no rain, she concluded to rest if she +came to a nice place, and soon she came to a very nice place just off +the road, which looked so inviting that she sat down and leaned her head +against the smooth, grassy mound. It was sheltered by fine old trees, +and the new grass and the fresh earth smelt sweet, as she laid her wet +cheek against the cool pillow, that she could not make up her mind to +leave it. She said to herself that she would rest one little minute, but +when the little minute was gone, she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> forgotten the night was +following so fast upon her footsteps. She lay drowsily watching the +shining bugs and creeping things that shared her green pillow, and +thought how happy she should feel if it were not for being so very +hungry. And then she was no longer hungry, for sleep stole upon her +unawares, and no one in passing noticed the curly-haired child lying on +the damp ground, with tears upon her cheek, and the night that was +creeping on so surely, overtook her and passed by, dropping his mantle +of darkness upon her as she lay asleep. And the shower came next, and +tried to wake her by sprinkling her with gentle drops. It said quite +plainly, "The night has come, and the rain. Hurry, little one!" But +Flora did not wake till the north wind shook her roughly, asking, in +gruff tones, "What are you doing here?" Then she sat up, rubbed her +eyes, and tried to collect her scattered ideas. Why was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> wind +shaking her so roughly? And what made her pillow cold and wet? She +thought she was at home in her own bed, and she called aloud, "mamma!" +But there was no mamma to answer. Then she felt the raindrops upon her +face, and heard them pattering on the leaves of the big trees, and the +wind whistled among the branches, and shook them as it had shaken her, +making them cry out with pain, and she remembered all at once that she +had laid down for one little minute to rest, but what made it so dark +and cold she did not know.</p> + +<p>She was certain that she had left the night far behind; yet here it was, +and the rain. Her pretty blue dress was wet through, and the dampness +had taken the life out of her garden hat, so that its broad rim flapped +about her face in a very uncomfortable way. Little rivulets trickled +down from it upon her neck and shoulders, and her wet curls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> clung +closely; but they could not keep her warm. She got up and tried to find +the road. She had wandered from it in search of a resting place, and now +it was lost. She could not find it anywhere. She was afraid to venture +far from the grassy mound, yet the road was but a short distance away. A +few steps more, and she would have seen friendly lights glancing from +two or three houses; but the darkness confused her, and sleep had +benumbed her senses. Oh, if some one would come and carry her to mamma! +It was so dreadful to be alone in the night. It was worse than hunger +and cold. If she only had Dinah! Dinah would be sorry. Poor Dinah! She +was in as bad a plight as her mistress. No one had taken her from the +door-step where she was lying in a heap, soaked through and through by +the rain. All her faculties were gone now, all her members disordered. +There was nothing about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> her worth preserving but the one glass eye. +Flora happily was spared this knowledge, and the very thought of the +black baby was a comfort. Suddenly, something cold touched her hand and +startled her. It was the nose of a large dog. She was not at all +frightened when the great creature looked up at her and inquired what +the trouble was. She was overjoyed at finding something to speak to. She +clasped her arms around his neck and kissed him twice on the forehead, +and he was much pleased with the reception. He kissed her many times, +and wagged his tail with vigor. He was telling her that he was very +sorry to find such a nice little girl out so late; but that he knew she +<i>was</i> a nice little girl, and he should like the pleasure of seeing her +home. And Flora understood him perfectly. She was no longer alone. She +held the dog's shaggy head close to the bosom of her wet dress and told +him she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> lost, and that he was a splendid old fellow to poke his +nose into her hand, and that if he would show her the way to mamma's +house he should have as many bones as he could eat. And the bones made +her think of her own bowl of bread and milk, waiting on the table at +home. Was it waiting there now, or had somebody carried it away, +thinking she would never need it? She sighed, and patted her friend's +cold nose, and whispered that she was very hungry. He understood all +about that, too. Many a time he had gone to bed without any supper; but +he said nothing to Flora of his own sufferings. He licked her hand in +silent sympathy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>CHARLEY SWALLOWS THE ROOSTER.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div><p>hey went out into the road together, Flora clinging closely to the +dog's shaggy coat and talking pleasantly as they trotted along, side by +side.</p> + +<p>"Do you live somewhere? I do. When I get there. Don't know the way. You +do, nice doggy. I like you. Are you all wet? I am. And cold? I am too. +Musn't cry if you are wet. I don't, and good dogs don't. Get home pretty +soon."</p> + +<p>When she saw houses and the lights shining, she was rejoiced, for now +she would have supper, dry clothes and a warm bed. She fell on her new +friend's neck and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> embraced him again; but for him, she would not have +found the road. She might have wandered about all night in the cold and +rain. The dog started off with a purpose. There was no doubt in his mind +as to the best course. Finding a brisk trot unsuited to Flora's weak +condition, he toned down and trudged along steadily at a moderate pace +till he reached a shabby dwelling, with ricketty steps in front, that +creaked as he went up, and an old door that shook when he pressed his +nose against it. There was one small window through which the light of +the fire was dancing, and it looked very pleasant to Flora. The dog gave +a short, quick bark, and a woman appeared at the window; but no one +opened the door. Flora saw the woman very plainly, but she could not see +Flora. The dog waited patiently a moment, and then barked again, at the +same time scratching upon the door with his big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> paw. It opened this +time, and a sharp voice said: "Come in."</p> + +<p>Doggy simply looked in and wagged his tail.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, stay out."</p> + +<p>The door was about to close when another voice said, "Old woman, the +brute is a-telling of us something. Can't you sense nothing?" and Flora +clambered up the steps as well as she could with her wet clothes hanging +about her, and went in with her new friend, who introduced her as a +young lady in distress he had taken the liberty to bring home.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" exclaimed the woman Flora had seen at the window. "Did +you rain down?"</p> + +<p>"I did," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"And who do you belong to anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Belong to mamma, and I want to go home, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Jack?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is it, old woman?"</p> + +<p>"I can't make it out. Come here."</p> + +<p>Jack, who was in the pantry eating his supper, came in with his mouth +full. Flora knew him at once. It was Jack Midnight; but he did not +recognize her till she cried, "Oh, I am so glad!"</p> + +<p>"Well, if it ain't the little miss!" said Jack. "Whatever have you been +a-doing?"</p> + +<p>"What little miss?" queried the woman.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lee's little miss. She belongs to the white cottage."</p> + +<p>"You don't say!"</p> + +<p>"Appears like quality folks, don't she?"</p> + +<p>"Set right up and dry yourself off a bit," said the woman, bustling +about to make Flora comfortable; "you are as wet as a drowned rat. Have +you had your supper?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Flora. "Want to go now."</p> + +<p>"Take a bite first," said Jack, offering a piece of his bread and +butter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Flora would not eat, and she would not sit by the fire; she stood +with her arms round the dog's neck, and waited for Jack to carry her to +mamma. When she refused the bread, Jack remembered that Towzer was +hungry and gave it to him; but it was a very light meal for Towzer, and +Flora whispered to him that he should have a whole supper when she got +to mamma: and her friend wagged his tail as if he should enjoy that very +much. When Jack got ready to go, the dog was ready too. Jack took the +poor child in his arms, and Towzer trotted by his side. There was quite +a pool of water where Flora had been standing, which had dripped from +her wet clothes.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Jack. "If you ain't a soppy bundle! Where <i>have</i> you been?"</p> + +<p>"Been to ride," said Flora. "In a blue cart with Mr. Podge."</p> + +<p>"Run away?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. Got lost."</p> + +<p>"And Towzer found you."</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>She reached over and patted Towzer's cold nose.</p> + +<p>"He is a good dog. I like him."</p> + +<p>Then out of gratitude to Jack, who was carrying her in his arms, she +added, "I like you too."</p> + +<p>"You can sing more than one tune, can't you?" said Jack, laughing. +"Which do you like most now, me or Towzer?"</p> + +<p>"Towzer, a little bit; because he <i>is</i> a dog, you know, and you are a +boy."</p> + +<p>"A bad boy."</p> + +<p>"Not a bad boy."</p> + +<p>Flora had suddenly changed her mind; and when Jack opened the big gate +and she had found her dear old home once more, she actually kissed his +grimy face and said she should "'member him long as she lived."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>What a commotion he created by walking in, with Flora clinging to his +neck! Charley was the first to cry out, "There she is!" and everybody +flocked to hear all about it. But Flora crept into mamma's lap and had +not a word to say, and all that Jack knew was told in a few words.</p> + +<p>"My dog picked her up somewhere and fetched her home," and then Flora +asked for Towzer, who had been shut out, and Charley went out and +invited him in. Inquiries had been made in all directions; but no one +could give any clue to Flora, and papa had gone to the town crier with a +"Lost" notice, describing the little girl and the dress she wore when +she left her home. Bertie was sent after him with all despatch, and Amy +ran over to relieve the anxious heart of Grandma. The little pet was +found, and she had been guided to a place of safety by Jack Midnight's +dog! They could not praise him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> enough. They had never noticed him +before, because he belonged to Jack; but now, both Jack and his dog were +in high favor.</p> + +<p>Charley declared to Bertie, afterwards, that there was no longer a lump +in his throat. He had swallowed the rooster. While mamma was making her +little girl dry and warm, Towzer was being feasted in the kitchen, and +for the first time since he was a puppy he had what Flora called "a +whole supper." He was generally put off with a few scraps or a crust; +but to-night he had all that he could eat, and he was not bashful about +having his plate re-filled or backward in asking for more. Jack +protested against such a waste. There was "enough to victual him a +week," he said; "the brute never would know when he was full." But +Charley was determined to give him a chance to know, and at last he +poked over a dainty morsel with his cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> nose, left it, went back to +it, left it again, unable to clear his plate.</p> + +<p>"Lost his appetite," said Bertie; but Amy said he was a sensible dog and +left the last piece for manners' sake, which was probably true. After +his hearty meal, Towzer made himself at home, and laid down before the +fire with his shaggy head upon his paws, as if he had been used to high +living from puppyhood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>HAPPY TOWZER.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div><p>owzer lay on the warm hearth and blinked at the fire, while his thick +coat was drying.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is," said Bertie; "if there is any virtue in good +living, I mean to put a streak of fat on that fellow's bones."</p> + +<p>"You can't do it," returned Jack. "I have been a-working on him these +two years. He is one of your lean kind."</p> + +<p>"I intend to try it, to pay for his kindness to Flora."</p> + +<p>"How would it do to plaster him all over with beef steak?" queried +Charley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That is my plan," said Bertie. "What do you think of it, my dog?"</p> + +<p>He thought it the best piece of news he had ever heard, and he left his +warm, corner to thank Bertie in his dumb but eloquent way. He looked up +into Bertie's face and wagged his tail, and said as plainly as a dog +could say, that he was grateful. Mamma exchanged the blue dress for a +flannel wrapper. It never could be called pretty again. Then she brushed +out the wet curls and chafed the rosy feet with her own warm hands. +Under such treatment, Flora began to revive.</p> + +<p>"Going to be a good girl," she said, gratefully.</p> + +<p>"And mind mamma?"</p> + +<p>"I will. Never open the big gate again."</p> + +<p>"Did you open it?"</p> + +<p>"I did. Flora is hungry."</p> + +<p>How happy she was, sitting on papa's knee with a bowl of bread and milk +in her lap!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Amy brought it, she grasped it eagerly with both fat hands and took +a long, deep draught.</p> + +<p>"The little pet is nearly starved," said Amy.</p> + +<p>"The little pet will never forget this day," said papa; "she has had a +hard lesson."</p> + +<p>After she had eaten all the bread and milk, Jack and Towzer were brought +in to say good night; and Towzer poked his nose against the rosy feet, +to make sure that they were no longer cold and wet, and rested his head +for a moment upon papa's knee.</p> + +<p>"Come again," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"He will be a-fetching up here every other thing," said Jack. "You +needn't bother about asking of him. All is, if he gets sassy you must +kick him out."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see anybody kick that dog when I am round," said +Charley, doubling up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> his fist and looking warlike. "He would find that +he had got his match."</p> + +<p>"We will shake hands on that," said Bertie. Which they did quite +solemnly.</p> + +<p>And then they shook hands with Jack, and Towzer went back to have more +last words with Flora, and a parting embrace: and after they were gone +Flora was so drowsy, that she could not tell about her ride in the soap +man's little blue cart, her head drooped upon papa's shoulder, and her +eyelids were very heavy.</p> + +<p>"She has not said her prayer," observed Bertie, who hoped she would keep +awake long enough to tell the story of her adventure.</p> + +<p>"Try," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling, try," urged Bertie.</p> + +<p>But Flora was too far gone even to try; so mamma laid her gently down in +her own comfortable bed, where the rain and the wind could not disturb +her slumbers, and lovingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> stroked the fair hair and the soft cheek. +She was very thankful that her little daughter was safe once more under +the dear home roof. But Flora thought she was lying out under the old +trees, and in her dreams could smell the sweet grass and the fresh +earth, and once she laughed aloud in her sleep; she was running away +from the rain and from the night.</p> + +<p>When Charley and Bertie went home it was still raining fast. But they +had not far to go. They lived in the new brown cottage over the way, you +will remember, that was built to take the place of their old home, +destroyed by fire. When they were going down the steps, Charley struck +some object with his foot. "Holloa!" he said, and Bertie asked "What +now?"</p> + +<p>"I have run against a snag," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Where away?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Down here next the bottom step. I have sent something flying."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything," said Bertie, groping about in the dark. "It +can't be good for much, if it has been out in this shower. Where did she +land?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhere in the path. I should say you could not go far wrong, if you +were to follow your nose."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"It is precious damp."</p> + +<p>"Awful!" said Bertie. "I cannot bear to think of Flora wandering round +in such a storm."</p> + +<p>"It was rather rough on the Baby Pitcher," asserted Charley.</p> + +<p>"It is bad enough to be lost in fair weather with daylight before you."</p> + +<p>"I believe you. What is this?"</p> + +<p>Bertie had stumbled upon the object.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That must be the article," said Charley. "Bring it to the light."</p> + +<p>They carried it into the hall and threw it upon a mat, for it was +dripping, and Charley turned it over with his foot.</p> + +<p>"What do you make of it?" queried Bertie.</p> + +<p>"It is the black baby," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"Or her remains?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there isn't much left of her."</p> + +<p>"It does not look much like Dinah, and that is a fact."</p> + +<p>"She is pretty well used up, all but one eye. That looks natural."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bertie, "very. Can't she be brought round?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not. One sound eye isn't enough to build on."</p> + +<p>"What a pity!" said Bertie. "If she cannot be patched up what are we +going to do?"</p> + +<p>Charley shook his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We must keep it from Flora."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"We will hide it."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere so that Flora may never find it."</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Charley. "We will hide it, and she will think her baby has +turned into a blackbird and flown away."</p> + +<p>So they carried the black baby home with them, and Flora never saw her +again. But they saved the blue glass button; it would do for an eye if +Grandma should chance to make another Dinah.</p> + +<p>What had become of Dinah was a wonder. Flora sought her first in the +library, where she had left her sleeping, then in every place she could +think of; but the baby was gone; there was not a trace of it anywhere. +And the perfumery was gone too. Flora was not long in making that +discovery, and she felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> worse about the perfumery than she did about +Dinah. She knew that was lost when she put her hand in the pocket of her +blue dress, but she did not give up Dinah for a long, long time. In fact +she never felt certain that the black baby would not return to her. If +she had gone to be a blackbird, as Charley suggested, why, she might be +coming back some day. Perhaps she would get tired of being a bird, or +she might break a wing as the robin had done, and if she did, she should +never get another chance to fly away.</p> + +<p>Grandma did not make another Dinah. It would have been a new one, and +could never take the place of the old; and as Flora was so hopeful, +Grandma thought she would be happier in looking forward to the return of +her long-tried friend than she could ever be with a new favorite. But +Dinah's place was not long vacant. Towzer fitted into it quite +naturally, and, as he was in many respects<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> a more pleasant companion, +Flora did not miss the black baby as she otherwise would have done.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>FLORA NEVER OPENS THE BIG GATE.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/img.f.jpg" alt="F" title="F" /></div><p>lora seemed to be none of the worse for her perilous adventure. After a +refreshing sleep, she awoke happy and bright, not the least like the +miserable child of the night before. And indeed, she could not remember +how miserable she had been. When she tried to think how cold and wet and +lonely it was out there in the night, she could not; for now it was no +longer cold; the sun was shining, and there was no more darkness. Papa +had said she would never forget that day; she had almost forgotten it +already. So hard is it to realize<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> our perils, when we look back upon +them. But there was the blue dress that never could be worn again, and +the water-soaked garden hat. The sight of these brought back a momentary +feeling of loneliness, and when she looked out upon the pleasant +morning, there was Jack Midnight's dog, with his nose between the bars +of the big gate. It was really true, then, the groping about in the +dark, and all the rest; and Towzer had not forgotten yet. When Flora +appeared at the window, he dropped his ears and turned sadly away. He +was looking for his friend of the night before, the little girl that +clung so closely around his neck, and begged him to take her to mamma. +He did not know Flora. But when she called to him, he answered with a +joyful cry. He knew the voice.</p> + +<p>"Keep away from the big gate," she said, warningly. "Must not open +that."</p> + +<p>"Bow-wow!" said Towser; "I don't care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> a straw for the big gate. I would +jump over it if I was younger, and I would squeeze myself through the +bars if the space was only wide enough. Bow-wow, who cares for the big +gate?"</p> + +<p>"Go round the other side," said Flora, "and I will let you in."</p> + +<p>Towzer wagged his tail, and started off, as if he meant to go round, but +he was only making believe. He was back again in a moment, dancing about +like a young puppy. You would never have supposed him to be the old, +sedate dog that he was.</p> + +<p>"What makes you so frisky," asked Flora.</p> + +<p>"Bow-wow," said he. "Cannot a poor old cur be frisky when he is happy?"</p> + +<p>He was happy, because a stream of sunshine had struggled into his sober +life. It promised him friends and kind words, and that which he needed +most of all,—a streak of fat to cover his bare bones. Flora said they +were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> "nice, fat bones;" she called them fat because they were so large; +and indeed they were sadly large and prominent. Bertie's plaster proved +to be the proper remedy.</p> + +<p>Under its influence the bones gradually disappeared, and, according to +Flora's theory, became leaner and smaller. Jack declared that the way +that dog was a picking up, beat all nature! Flora never admitted Towzer +at the big gate, and he very soon learned to go round. It was the big +gate that opened the way to Flora's troubles, and she had a wholesome +fear of it in consequence.</p> + +<p>"Never open it again," she said, when she had finished the story of her +trials.</p> + +<p>And she never did, without permission. The little blue cart and the +limping horse sometimes passed, and, although the soap man was always on +the lookout, he never again found Flora waiting to take a ride. She did +not forget what mamma told her:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> "Ladies do not ride in carts, and they +never ask to ride with strangers. Little girls cannot be expected to +<i>do</i> right always; but good children always <i>try</i> to do right."</p> + +<p>"I am glad I did not see you riding with the soap man," said Amy. "I +should have felt ashamed of my little sister."</p> + +<p>"She would have come off that box in a hurry if I had been anywhere +about," added Charley, in a threatening tone.</p> + +<p>That stirred up the Baby Pitcher.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't either," she answered, tartly.</p> + +<p>Charley tossed his head in a provoking way, that made Bertie say +"Don't!"</p> + +<p>"I shall do so again," said Flora.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you, truly?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Bertie, seriously, "not if I were a little girl."</p> + +<p>"Then I won't, and Dinah won't. Oh! She has gone to be a blackbird—I +forgot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>Amy kissed her little sister and talked to her in a gentle, soothing +manner, that smoothed out all the wrinkles. And then Charley felt sorry +he had roused the "Leo spunk," and he told such funny stories that Flora +felt very placid and comfortable, and quite at peace with everybody. In +losing the perfumery she lost a treasure, and for that she was sorry; +but she was glad to be restored to all her social rights and privileges. +She was no longer obliged to stand out on the door-stone when she talked +to Grandma, for the odor of musk was dying out. Grandma's doors were +thrown wide open, and no one was more welcome than the Baby Pitcher.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baby Pitcher's Trials, by Mrs. May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS *** + +***** This file should be named 19390-h.htm or 19390-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/9/19390/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Baby Pitcher's Trials + Little Pitcher Stories + +Author: Mrs. May + +Release Date: September 27, 2006 [EBook #19390] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Frontispiece.--The Funeral, p. 52] + + + + + LITTLE PITCHER-STORIES. + + + BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS. + + BY + + MRS. MAY. + + + + BOSTON: + PUBLISHED BY CLARK & FISKE, + 32 CORNHILL. + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by + CLARK & FISKE, + In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER I. + How the Little Pitcher made Sunshine, 7 + + CHAPTER II. + Flora Waits for the Sun to Drink up the Water, 19 + + CHAPTER III. + The Story of the Poor Robin, 30 + + CHAPTER IV. + "Going to Have a Funeral," 41 + + CHAPTER V. + Bertie Meets Jack Midnight at the Spring, 53 + + CHAPTER VI. + A Deadly Snare for the Muskrat, 65 + + CHAPTER VII. + Something in the Trap, 76 + + CHAPTER VIII. + Jack Pulls off the Warm Jacket, 84 + + CHAPTER IX. + Flora in Exile, 96 + + CHAPTER X. + Flora Goes to Ride in the Little Blue Cart, 105 + + CHAPTER XI. + She says Good-bye to the Soap Man, 114 + + CHAPTER XII. + And Loses her Way, 124 + + CHAPTER XIII. + Charley Swallows the Rooster, 133 + + CHAPTER XIV. + Happy Towzer, 142 + + CHAPTER XV. + Flora Never Opens the Big Gate, 152 + + + + + BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +HOW THE LITTLE PRINCESS MADE SUNSHINE. + + +It was raining fast, and it had rained for two days. This was the third. +Flora had become tired of the leaden sky and the wet earth. She had +watched the moving clouds and the swaying branches of the trees long +enough, and now she was ready for fair weather. But it seemed as if fair +weather would never come, and she looked in vain for a bit of blue sky. +There was not even a light streak. It was stormy without and it was +stormy within. The gray side of the sky was all that could be seen, and +the gray side of Flora's temper was out also. There was a sunny side to +both, but that was carefully hidden by the sober clouds. + +Flora was tired of the big drops that chased each other down the pane. +She was tired of trying to look abroad through the wet glass and the +mist. When she did get a glimpse of the outer world there was nothing to +see, and that was the worst of it. There was nothing but muddy roads, +pools of water and little patches of green grass. It was not to be +borne. + +Flora crept down from her high chair to the lowly footstool, leaned her +head upon her hand and sighed. Sister Amy had gone to school, and +Charley and Bertie were big boys. Of course they could go anywhere in +any weather, with "yubber" boots. How she envied them! Only she the +youngest of the flock, the Baby Pitcher, was forced to stay at home +because it rained. So she sighed. Mamma heard the sigh and said +inquiringly, "Well?" + +"If I was a lady," said Flora, "a certain true lady, I wouldn't stay in +for the weather. I would put on my water-prooth and go a-fishing." + +"In the rain?" + +"I would." + +Mamma laughed. Now Flora was not in a mood to be laughed at, so she shut +her eyes to keep back the tears, for she knew they would come if she did +not shut the covers down tightly. She did not keep them all back +however, for mamma saw two or three rolling slowly down her little +girl's cheek. + +"Wouldn't go fishing without a water-prooth," she added, petulantly; +"might fall in and get wet." + +Mamma did not laugh now. She was very grave. She had not had an easy +time of it since falling weather set in. She could do nothing right. All +her efforts had failed to amuse Flora. So mamma sighed. + +Flora, forgetting that she must keep the covers shut down tightly, +opened wide her eyes and was astonished. Mamma looked so very sober. Was +she too going to cry because the pleasant sunshine staid away so long? + +"I wouldn't," she said, earnestly. Mamma looked up. "I never would cry +for the rain," hastily brushing the moisture from her own cheek. "Ladies +don't, nor good children; only cross ones." + +"I am glad to hear it," said mamma; but she did not smile. + +"It will be pleasant when it clears off, I guess; don't you?" + +"It generally is," said mamma, quietly; and then she went on with her +work and paid no more attention to Flora. Now that was unusual conduct. +What did mamma mean? In thinking about it, Flora forgot her own +troubles, and forgot all about the rain, though at that moment it was +beating fiercely against the window, and the cold wind was begging to +come in. By and by she carried the footstool to her mother's side and +seated herself demurely. + +"I am going to tell you a story," she said. "It is a story, but it is +the truth, too. Want to hear it?" + +Mamma assented. + +"Well. Once, a good while ago, almost as much as a week, somebody went +a-fishing. It wasn't Charley or Bertie or Amy or me. His mother told him +never to do it because he might tumble in, you know. But he did; he +went." + +"What a naughty boy!" said mamma, gravely. + +"But he wasn't a boy." + +"Excuse me," said mamma, "I thought he was." + +"And he wasn't a girl." + +"No?" + +"No. You could never guess what he was." + +"Then you will have to tell me." + +"He was a fly." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes, he was a fly; a sure enough fly. And where do you think the pond +was? Not a truly pond, but play it was, you know." + +"It might have been the sirup pitcher or the plum jar. Flies are very +fond of sweets." + +"But it wasn't. It was the cream jug. He was trying to catch some milk +and he tumbled in." + +"What a pity!" + +"Yes, and his mamma wasn't there, and the milk drownded him. And I hope +he will remember it as long as he lives, and never do so any more. +Wasn't that a good story?" + +"It was a very good story." + +"Did it make you feel better?" + +"A great deal better; and now I will tell you a story." + +"Oh, goody!" + +Flora brushed the curls back from her face and prepared to listen. + +"Once upon a time," said mamma. + +"Long ago?" + +"Not so very long ago." + +"Much as a week?" + +"Oh, no; not so much as a week. We will say about two days." + +"Well." + +"Once upon a time--" + +"About two days ago?" + +"Yes, dear. In a little white palace no larger than this house, there +lived a king and a queen, a tall princess and a little princess." + +"Oh oo!" said Flora. + +"And the king could not always remain in the pretty palace, because it +was necessary for him to go abroad to provide food and clothing for his +family. The queen, the tall princess and the little princess, were his +family." + +"Yes," said Flora. + +"And the tall princess could not always stay in the palace, because she +expected to be a queen herself some day, and her mamma--I mean the +queen--wanted her to be a wise one; so she sent her away to school every +morning. But the queen and the little princess stayed in the palace, and +it often happened that they were left at home together." + +"Just like us." + +"Yes, dear. The princess used to run about and play out of doors like +other little girls when the weather was pleasant, and when it was not +she amused herself in doors with her toys and her pets." + +"Did she have a white mouse, do you think?" + +"I think she had a white mouse." + +"And a grandma?" + +"I am almost certain that she had a grandma." + +"But the grandma did not live in the palace?" + +"Oh, no. The grandma lived in a house not far from the palace, and the +tall princess and the little princess used to visit her almost every +day." + +"Well." + +"The queen and the little princess were very happy together until +something happened. It was a long storm that happened, and there was no +sunshine in the palace for more than two days." + +Flora, reminded of the rain, glanced at the window against which the big +drops were rattling merrily, but quickly turned to mamma again, for she +did not wish to lose one word of the story. + +"Now when the sun did not shine in the palace it was a very gloomy +place, not like a palace at all, and the queen was sad and the princess +unhappy. The princess did not know why she was unhappy, but the queen +knew. It was because there was no sunshine to make little faces look +pleasant and cheerful. It made the queen sad to see the little princess +unhappy and discontented, so she thought she would try to make some +sunshine." + +"Did she?" + +"No," said mamma. "I am sorry to say that the poor queen worked very +hard, but she had forgotten how to make it." + +"Too bad!" said Flora. + +"But when the poor queen was quite discouraged the little princess +thought that she would try; and what her poor mamma--I mean the +queen--had failed to do, she did. The little princess made the +sunshine." + +"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Flora, clapping her hands. "How did she do it?" + +"Why," said mamma, smiling, and putting her arm round the little girl's +neck, "she brought her footstool to the queen's side and told the queen +a story." + +"Just like me!" + +"Yes, dear. And the queen was very happy because the palace was no +longer dark and gloomy; it was bright with the sunshine her little girl +had made." + +"The princess, you mean." + +"The princess was a little girl." + +"And was the queen a lady?" + +"The queen was the little girl's mamma." + +"Oh, I know!" said Flora, jumping about in high glee, "I am the little +princess and you are the queen, and this is the palace." + +"Yes," said mamma. + +"And papa is the king, and sister is the tall princess." + +"Yes, dear." + +"And I hope," she added, earnestly, "that the princess will never forget +that she knows how to make sunshine." + +"The queen hopes so too," said mamma. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +FLORA WAITS FOR THE SUN TO DRINK UP THE WATER. + + +The next morning there was sunshine everywhere; inside of the palace and +out. The long storm was over. Flora waited in the porch for the sun to +drink up the moisture from the soaked ground, that she might run about +and enjoy her freedom. She had been housed so long--three whole days! +And now the grass was springing up all around, and the swelling buds +were ready to burst forth into leaves. And the birds were singing gaily +as if they too were glad to come out and play. + +Flora watched them as they hopped from twig to twig, and wished she +could borrow their brown wings, for she wanted to fly away over the tops +of the houses and sing with them a joyful song. But she could not borrow +the brown wings, and she could not turn herself into a bird. So she sat +down on the upper step which the sun had dried, and tried to feel +satisfied with the nimble feet and curious fingers that God had given to +her instead of wings and claws. + +The steam was rising from the ground, and the bright drops sparkled on +the tender blades of grass. When the last bright drop had disappeared, +and there was no longer any steam, she was at liberty to go where she +pleased. She felt very comfortable in her thick jacket and leather +boots, for it was as yet too early in the season to lay them by, but if +she could have had her own way, she would have welcomed the pleasant +morning in ankle-ties and a shaker. + +"Mamma knows best," she whispered to Dinah, the black baby, with blue +buttons for eyes and ravelled-out yarn for hair. "Mamma knows best, and +I hope you are 'vinced of it." + +The sun had gone away from the step, and Flora was somewhat chilly, so +she pinned the shawl tightly about Dinah and walked up and down the +porch. "You don't know everything," she said, sharply, "because you +ain't old enough. And I ain't. Did you think I was? No. I will tell you +who is. Mamma is. She is ever so old, and she knows all there is in the +world. When she tells me to put on my warm jacket, I don't cry. But you +do, and you ought to be ashamed of it. Will you do it without crying +next time? Eh?" She gave the baby a little shake and went on with her +lecture. "Naughty children say 'no' when mamma says 'yes.' Good ones +don't. Good ones say just as mamma says. And naughty children tell +stories. I don't tell stories and good children don't. If you say you +don't cry when you do cry, that's a story. And if you say you do cry +when you don't cry, _that's_ a story. It is a story both ways, and both +ways are wicked. Mamma says so, and she knows. When you are as old as +mamma, you will know too. And I will. So don't ask any more questions +about it." + +Dinah had come out to take the air and be company for Flora. To be sure, +Amy, the tall princess spoken of in the last chapter, was sitting at the +window that opened on to the porch; but then she was busy. She could not +be company for anybody, for she was studying her home lesson. Flora +pitied her very much, for she looked very sober and kept repeating to +herself words that Flora could not understand. It was a hard lesson, and +Amy was determined to conquer it. Flora felt like talking, and there +was no one to talk to but Dinah. Dinah was a good listener, but not much +of a talker. In fact, she could not speak a word; so if she had any +ideas, she did not express them. Flora was tired of having everything +her own way. She thought it would be a great deal nicer if Amy would put +down that stupid book, and pay some attention to her; but she did not +say so aloud. She whispered it to Dinah in a tone that only Dinah could +hear. By and by Amy did put down the book, and with it the sober, +earnest look. + +"Goody!" said Flora, clapping her hands, regardless of Dinah's peril. +But Dinah did not fall. Flora caught her by the neck just in time to +prevent a terrible blow. When Flora said "Goody," Amy opened the window. + +"It is you, is it?" she said. "I thought it was a mouse." + +"It is only me," said Flora. "I am going out when the sun has drunk up +all the water." + +"The sun is a thirsty fellow, my dear." + +"He is," sighed Flora. "Dinah is tired of waiting." + +"Flora is tired of waiting, I guess." + +"Yes, Flora is." + +"And what would she like to do while the sun is drinking?" + +"Have fun," said Flora, laying the black baby down for a nap, with the +shawl drawn up over her head. "Dinah is asleep and I am ready." + +"You are a dear little thing for keeping so still while I was studying, +and we will have some fun." + +"Oo!" said Flora. "I have fifteen minutes to do whatever I please with, +and then I must be off. Now, what would you like to do?" + +"Play something," said Flora, joyfully. + +"Well." + +"I should like to get out my china set and play dinner, with real sugar +in the sugar bowl, and apple cut up for meat." + +"That would be jolly if we only had the time; but we have not." + +"Oh!" sighed Flora. + +Amy put on hat and coat, and tightened the strap around her books. + +"How would you like 'mother' or 'tag?'" + +"First rate," said Flora. "I will be the mother, and you may be 'it.'" + +"All at once?" + +"Yes. But if you catch me, it won't be fair." + +"No, indeed," said Amy. "And you musn't start till I get my hand on the +post." + +"No." + +"And if you don't 'bey the rules we must begin over again." + +"Yes." + +"Ready?" + +"Ready." + +As Flora started to run, somebody called "Holloa!" So she stopped short +and asked, "Who is that?" + +It was Charley passing by on his way to school, alone. + +"You had better hurry up," he cried. "If you stop there fooling with the +Baby Pitcher, you will be late." + +"It is early yet," said Amy; but Flora was angry and she stamped her +foot and screamed, + +"'Taint late, either, Charley Waters; and you are an ugly boy to call me +that. My name ain't Baby Pitcher; my name is Flora Lee!" + +"Whew!" said Charley. "The Lee spunk is running away with the little +pet. Catch it somebody!" + +"You must not tease her," said Amy; "she wants to play." + +"Don't either," pouted Flora. + +"I thought you did." + +"She wants coaxing," said Charley. + +"Don't either, Charley Waters." + +"You will play to oblige sister, won't you?" said Amy, soothingly. + +No, Flora would not. Charley had interfered with their plans and ruffled +her temper. It was too bad of Charley, but then Charley was not wholly +to blame, for the Baby Pitcher's temper was easily ruffled. And now it +was really time for Amy to go. The fifteen minutes had melted away. + +"I do not like to leave the little sister with such a sour face," she +whispered in Flora's ear. "If you will brush away the black looks and +be pleasant, you may ask mamma to let you write on my white slate." + +"Till you come home?" + +"Yes." + +Flora with a quick motion brushed away the gloomy clouds and held up her +sunny face for a kiss. + +"That is a lady," said Amy, approvingly. + +"I will be very careful, and I won't break it," said Flora, gratefully; +"and Dinah must not touch it." + +"Well! If you haven't got an April face I wouldn't say so," declared +Charley, at the risk of banishing the smiles. + +But Flora did not care. She was thinking of the pretty white slate. She +had never held it in her hands but once, and then Amy stood by to watch +and to caution her. Now she was to have it all to herself. + +"I am off," said Charley. "Will somebody kiss me before I go?" + +"Dinah will." + +Flora held up the black baby, but Charley made a wry face and said +"Pah!" That amused Flora, and she ran after Charley and insisted upon +his kissing Dinah, but before she knew it, Charley caught her in his +arms and left a kiss on the tip of her nose. He did not mean to leave it +there, he was trying to put it on her cheek, but the little nose was +right in the way, so it caught the kiss. + +"Ho, ho!" laughed Charley. "Let me take it back and put it where it +belongs." + +So Flora held quite still, and Charley made believe take it back; and he +put another one on the cheek. Then he and Amy trudged along to school, +leaving Flora and Dinah in a very happy mood. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE STORY OF POOR ROBIN. + + +Flora waited until they had turned the corner. When they looked back, +she waved her hand, and, before passing out of sight, Charley threw a +farewell kiss. + +"It was not for you," she said to the black baby, "so you need not look +so pleasant about it. It was for me. And now we will go in and write on +the white slate; but you must not touch it, for somebody has clumsy +fingers and black fingers. It isn't me--my fingers are white; and it +isn't Amy. It is you. Dolls don't know so much as other folks, and dolls +break things. I don't. If you break that slate, Amy will cry. She said +I might take it; she didn't say nothing to you. Will you 'member?" + +They went in, but they soon came out again. The sunny morning called so +loudly that Flora could not stay in doors. Not even the white slate had +power to keep her. She played with it a while, and then it was cast +aside, because Dinah wanted to take a walk. How she knew it, I am sure I +cannot tell. Perhaps the black baby whispered her wishes in the ear of +her mistress, and Flora was quite willing to oblige her. When they went +out, the steps of the porch were dry, and there was no longer any mist; +so Flora was at liberty to go where she pleased. That is to say, she was +at liberty to go wherever mamma pleased. Down to the barn, over to +auntie's, where Charley and Bertie lived, or in to see Grandma; but she +was not to wander away or play in the public street, and she was on no +account to go where she could not keep home in view. She might roam +about the grounds all day if she liked; and there was the big tree down +in the garden, with a broad seat around it, where she could play house +or picnic, or anything that could be played with only Dinah to help her. +But it often happened that she did not care to go to any of these +places. She would have liked to open the big gate (but that was +forbidden,) and follow the noisy ducks down to the pond, and now she +looked with longing eyes to a group of merry boys who ought to have been +in school, but were playing in the muddy street instead. She thought how +nice it would be to have one's own way always, and not be obliged to ask +mamma everything. She was strongly tempted to join the party of rough, +rude boys. There was not a girl among them. + +"I think it is too bad," she complained to Dinah, "and it ought to be a +pity. Big girls know where they want to go better than mamma does. Don't +they? Course they do. Did you say no? That is what mamma says. So you +may turn your head round. If you don't look that way, you will forget +all about it. And I will." + +Flora was right. She turned her head and forgot all about it. There was +something else to think of. Somebody was getting over the wall at the +foot of the garden. Who was it? She ran to the other end of the porch to +see. + +"Is that you?" she called. No answer. "Is that _you_, I say?" + +Bertie (for it was Bertie,) looked up and nodded. He came across the +beds that were covered with the dry stalks and stems of last year's +flowers, and up the path, quite slowly. + +"Hurry," cried Flora, impatiently. + +Bertie shook his head to signify that he could not hurry, and then she +saw that he carried something in both hands, and he carried it +carefully. + +"What is it," she demanded. + +"Hush!" said Bertie. "It is a timid little thing, and you must not make +a noise. You can come up softly and look." + +He cautiously parted his hands, and Flora looked in; but the space was +very narrow, and she was so eager that she could not see very well. So +he separated his hands a little more, and then she saw the bright eyes +and round head of a bird. + +"Oo!" she exclaimed. + +"Robin," said Bertie. + +"Alive?" + +"Can't you see?" + +He stopped, and Flora took another look. + +"It _is_ alive. I am so glad." + +"But you must not clap your hands. That makes a wind, and he is awfully +afraid of a wind. It makes him shake like everything. I wish you could +feel his heart beat." + +Flora eagerly held out her hands. + +"Do let me," she pleaded, earnestly. But Bertie said, "Not yet; wait +till he gets acquainted." + +"Will he, do you think?" + +"Oh, yes. He knows me first rate now. I have had him ever since last +night. I was home yesterday, sick. I am home sick to-day. That is why I +am here. I didn't go to school. I got my feet wet." + +"Through your rubber boots?" + +"Over them. I went in knee deep, filled my boots full. Took them off, +and emptied out the water; but that didn't do any good. The cold stayed +in. I had caught it, you know, and there was no shaking it out. When you +once catch a cold, it sticks. There is something growing in my throat. +Tonsils, mother calls it, I believe; but I guess it won't amount to +much." + +"Does it hurt?" + +"Oh, no! It was awful in the night, though. You see I could not get out +yesterday for the rain." + +"No more could I." + +"It was precious dull staying in the house with the tonsils, so I kept +looking out of the window, and wishing it would clear off." + +"Just like me," said Flora, gleefully. + +"And I got awful tired of that window!" + +"Me, too." + +"I wanted to smash my fist through it, but that would not have been +doing the proper thing, so I kept my feelings to myself. By-and-by I +heard something go, peep! peep! I couldn't think at first what it was." + +"It was the robin." + +"Yes, but I did not know it was the robin. I thought it was some other +bird up in a tree. By-and-by it came again. Peep! peep! right under the +window, and then I began to look about me. But I did not see anything +for a long time. At last I opened the window, and there, hopping about +the wet piazza, was Mr. Robin. I went out and got him in a twinkling." + +"Did he want to be caught?" + +"Couldn't help himself." + +"I should have flied away." + +"With that?" Bertie pointed to a broken wing. + +"With two of them." + +"You could not fly if you had a dozen wings like that. It is broken." + +"Oh!" + +"And that accounts for his being on our piazza. I don't know what lamed +him, but I think it was the gale or a stone." + +"I guess it was something," said Flora, eagerly. + +"And it was lucky that I happened to hear him when he cried peep, peep, +instead of puss. If puss had been round, wouldn't she have snapped at +him?" + +"Wouldn't she?" echoed Flora. + +"She would have made mince meat of Mr. Robin. There would not have been +so much as a feather left. I tell you what I mean to do. Nurse him up +till he gets well." + +"Me, too." + +"Yes, you can be the doctor, while I am at school; and if he _does_ get +well, won't I make a tip-top cage for him?" + +"He will get well." + +"Perhaps. But you must be careful about his diet. Don't give him +anything hurtful to eat, you know." + +"I won't. Give him milk and sponge cake." + +"And worms. You must not forget the worms." + +"Dig some?" + +"Yes." + +"Dig some now?" + +"That wouldn't be a bad idea. He was not hungry last night, and he would +not eat this morning. Perhaps a nice fat worm will tempt him." + +Flora knew where to look for nice, fat worms, so she left Bertie to take +care of Dinah and the robin, while she went in pursuit of a breakfast +for the birdy. There was a family that lived under a certain plank, and +as it was a large family there was always somebody at home. When she +tried the door it would not open; that is to say when she got to the +plank she could not lift it. The wet clay sucked it down so hard that +although she tugged till she was red in the face, she could not move it. + +"Oh, dear!" she cried. + +And then she went to the other end of the plank and tried that. But it +stuck fast. It would not move an inch. Then she got angry and talked to +it as she sometimes talked to Dinah, and with no better result. She +could not move it by force or by persuasion. There was no other way but +to go back to Bertie without the robin's breakfast. + +"I can manage it," said Bertie, "if you will take the chick. I should +like to see the plank that could hold out against me." + +Flora gladly took the chick, and her countenance brightened as she felt +the little heart flutter against her hand. This was much pleasanter than +hunting worms. She sat down upon the step and held the birdy very +tenderly till Bertie came back. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"GOING TO HAVE A FUNERAL." + + +The plank did not hold out against Bertie, and he found several of the +worm family at home. They were very much disturbed by his presence, and +wriggled about in all directions, as if in pursuit of hiding places, or +their company dress and manners. They were evidently not prepared to +receive visitors. But that did not make any difference to Bertie. He +hung as many as he thought the robin could relish across a stick, and +with much difficulty--for the worms were constantly dropping off--he +made his way back to the porch without the loss of a single crawler. +But when he got there the birdy would not eat. Was not that a pity? They +coaxed in every way. Flora even talked to him with tears in her eyes, +but it was of no use. He did not open his bill or take any notice of the +nice breakfast spread before him. + +"Too bad!" said Flora. "Will he die?" + +"I am afraid he will." + +Bertie gazed sadly at the writhing worms. + +"He will starve in a land of plenty, and I don't see how anybody is to +help it. Who could resist such a tempting breakfast as that?" + +"I couldn't," said Flora. + +"And I couldn't. And if he does not hurry up, there won't be any +breakfast to eat. Look at that--and that." + +Bertie pointed to a well-fattened, tender morsel, in such haste to be +off that it was hanging over the very edge of the flooring, and to +another whose thick-set body was fast disappearing between the boards. + +"That is what I call a tight squeeze. They might stop to say good +morning." + +"Worms don't know everything," returned Flora. + +"Not quite everything," said Bertie. + +"What shall we do next?" + +"Perhaps he is thirsty. Dinah is." + +"And you are?" + +"Yes, I are." + +Water was brought; but the birdy would not drink, although he opened his +bill so wide when Flora pushed his head into the porringer that she +thought he was drinking. + +"He is only gasping," said Bertie. "Birds cannot breathe with their +heads under water. Nobody can." + +"I can." + +"No, dear." + +"Minims can." + +"Oh, yes, minims can. But minims are fishes, and they live in the water. +That is their home. Birds live in the air. They build little houses in +the trees." + +"Live in the sky. I have seen them way up." + +"They do fly almost as high as the sky; but when night comes and they +are tired of flying, they go home to rest." + +"In the little houses?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"Want to see them." + +"They are high up in the trees, out of sight. By and by, when the leaves +fall off and the birds fly away, I will get you one of the round nests." + +"To put the robin in." + +"If we have any robin." + +"Got one now." + +"But his wing is broken, and he will not eat." + +"Too bad!" + +"And if he will not eat, he may as well die. I do believe he is thinking +about it now. Look at him!" + +Flora had made a bed by robbing Dinah of her dress and shawl; but the +bird had not moved since she placed him upon it. He was now lying on his +side, with closed eyes, and he was breathing very hard. + +"He is asleep," said Flora. + +Bertie shook his head. + +"Feel better when he wakes up." + +"If he _does_ wake up." + +"Course he will! You do, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And I do. And Dinah does. Cover him up warm; course he will wake up!" + +Flora covered him with her pocket handkerchief, which she called a +blanket, and tried to wait patiently for him to finish his nap. But she +could not help lifting a corner of the blanket, now and then, to see +how he was getting on; and every time she looked he seemed to be +breathing harder, until at last he lay quite still, and did not breathe +at all. She took that as a good sign, because the eye that she could see +was partially open; and she called to Bertie, who had gone to the barn +for a box to keep the robin in till the new cage was made, to come quick +and turn the birdy over, for he had waked up on one side. She did not +like to disturb him; but she wanted to know if the other eye was open. +Bertie came up, with the box in his hand. He watched the bird closely +for a moment. + +"No need to turn him over," he said, sadly. "He is asleep clear +through." + +"Waked up on one side," persisted Flora; but Bertie knew that the robin +would never wake again. He dropped the box, and took up the poor little +bird. It was quite dead. + +When Flora saw the drooping head, and knew that the birdy would never +hop about and chirp or eat worms any more, she cried bitterly. It was +too bad for it to go and die just as she was getting acquainted. They +would have had such nice times together when the new cage was done. + +"Never mind," said Bertie; but he too felt very sorry. He had been +looking forward to a tame bird in a pretty cage, singing the sweetest of +songs. And now that could never be. + +"Get well, some time," sobbed Flora. + +"Never," said Bertie, at which Flora cried louder than ever. + +"We must bury him, and forget all about it." + +"Have a funeral?" + +"Yes." + +"In a pretty box?" + +"Yes." + +Flora wiped her eyes. The prospect of a funeral was consoling. It helped +her to forget her loss. + +"Tie a ribbon round your hat?" + +"If you wish." + +"Mine too?" + +"Yes." + +"And wait till Charley and Amy come?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"Goody!" + +She caught up Dinah, and went skipping about the porch. + +"Going to have a funeral. Did you know it? Why don't you ask who is +dead? Course somebody is. Couldn't have a funeral without somebody dead! +It isn't me, and it isn't you. Nor anybody in this house. Did you think +it was? No. It is a robin. You can go because you have a black face. +Always wear black to funerals. I will, and Bertie will,--round our hats. +You mustn't laugh. Good folks don't laugh at funerals, and I don't. +Only bad. There's a worm. Want to look? That is the robin's breakfast +going home. He lives down there under a plank. I can't lift it, and you +can't. Bertie can. He don't want no more breakfast. Course not! He is +going to be dead. Bury him when Amy and Charley come. Somewhere. Do you +know where? I don't. Bertie does." + +With Dinah in her arms, she met Charley and Amy at the corner when +school was done, with the cheerful tidings. + +"Going to have a funeral!" + +"No!" said Charley. + +"Are too, Charley Waters." + +"When?" + +"Now." + +"Where?" inquired Amy, anxiously. + +"There," pointing towards home. + +"Not at our house?" + +"Yes." + +"It cannot be. Nobody is dead." + +"Couldn't have a funeral without somebody dead." + +"Flora, is anybody dead?" + +"He is." + +"Who?" + +"The robin. Died to-day. Going to have a funeral in the porch." + +"Ho, ho!" laughed Charley. + +"You have given me such a fright!" said Amy. "I have not strength enough +left to take me home." + +Charley offered to carry her on his back, but she declined the offer. +After leaning against a tree for a moment, she was able to go on. + +"I don't know what the dear child means, do you?" + +"Haven't the least idea," said Charley. + +"And what is Bertie so busy about?" + +"Can't make that out either." + +"What is Bertie doing, pet?" + +"Making the box," said Flora. + +"What box?" + +"Can't bury the robin without making a box!" + +"Oh!" + +"Course not. You ought to know better." + +"That's so. When did Mr. R. shuffle off, &c.?" + +"Didn't go nowhere, only to be dead." + +"Oh!" + +"And when Bertie gets the box done, we must form a line and march. Me +and Dinah will go first, because she is the blackest." + +"Good. She shall be chief mourner." + +"Me, too." + +"You shall be the marshal." + +"Well." + +She had not the slightest idea what it was to be the marshal but she +liked the sound of it. Bertie was not long in finishing the box. Before +they put the birdy in, Amy brought a handful of hay and made a soft +nest. She could not bear to see it lying on the bottom of the hard box. +Bertie nailed the cover on, and bored a hole with a gimlet. "To look +through," he said. But as the hole was very small, and it was very dark +inside, you could not see anything. + +Bertie wanted to march with the box under his arm and the spade over his +shoulder, but Flora insisted upon the wheelbarrow, and as Flora was the +marshal, the wheelbarrow was brought out to head the procession. Flora +and Dinah followed as chief mourners, while Amy and Charley walked in +single file to make the procession as long as possible. They marched +round and round the grounds as long as Flora wished, and then Bertie dug +a deep hole in the middle of Amy's garden, and buried the robin. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +BERTIE MEETS JACK MIDNIGHT AT THE SPRING. + + +Flora enjoyed the funeral very much. She had never had a dead bird to +bury before, and she thought it a very nice thing; so nice in fact, that +she meant to come back some day and have it over again. So she marked +the spot with a stick, that she might know where to find the bird when +she wanted it for another funeral. That it was hid from her sight +forever she had not the least idea, or that she could not re-bury it +whenever she choose. So she planted the stick, and went away with a +happy heart. + +When she knew that the birdy could be buried only once, and that she was +not to disturb the spot, she mourned her loss afresh. But Amy told her +she would plant a daisy on the little mound, and it should be her own, +and she should think of her bird whenever the flowers bloomed. And +Charley promised to buy a bright yellow canary, if he could ever save +money enough, and it should be "a regular screamer." She wanted Bertie +to make the cage at once, but Bertie thought he could not make a cage +good enough for a canary. He would have a beauty on hand, however, by +the time Charley got ready to purchase the bird. This was meant as a sly +hit at Charley who never had any money. He fully intended to buy the +bird, but canaries cost money, and Charley's pockets were always empty, +so far as money was concerned. + +Flora had little faith in Charley's promises. Bertie had a new idea in +his head. He wanted to prepare a trap for a musk-rat. That was why he +could not attend to making the cage. If he succeeded in catching +one--and he thought he should, for the spring was full of them--Flora +was to have all the perfumery she wanted. So she was comforted, and in +time--a very short time--forgot all about the robin. Bertie set his +trap, and waited. Nobody believed in the musk-rat but Flora. She had +faith in the success of all Bertie's undertakings. Everybody else +laughed at him for his pains. Charley said he was a "goney," whatever +that may be, and Amy advised him to turn his attention to something +sensible. He travelled down to the spring every morning before +breakfast, and with quickly beating heart examined the trap. There was +nothing in it, but there were tracks all around. He resolved to follow +up those tracks, and see what would come of them. It was a long walk to +the spring, and a lonely walk. Other traps were set thereabouts, but +their owners lived near by, or came from the upper road. Of course he +never asked for Charley's company. Charley had no faith, and he +ridiculed the idea of going so often on a wild-goose chase. But Bertie +reasoned within himself,--other fellows caught musk-rats, why should not +he? His traps were as good as theirs, his bait the same. To be sure he +never had caught one, but that was no reason he never should. There must +be a first time for every thing. And when he did trap one, wouldn't +Charley change his tune? The spring was alive with musk-rats. One +_should_ find the way into his trap. He hoped it would be a "buster." He +was on the road to the spring, when these thoughts passed through his +mind. There had been a white frost, and the air was keen. He thrust his +hands into his pockets, and ran along, whistling cheerfully. His +spirits were light, and his hopes high. He half expected to find a +musk-rat in his trap. He had made the path to it so easy and inviting, +surely something must have found the way thither. Not a musk-rat, +perhaps, but something. When he got there, he was surprised to find a +boy examining his trap. It was not an agreeable surprise, for the boy +was Jack Midnight; the very last person in the world with whom he +desired to have any dealings. It was the same Jack who dishonestly made +way with Charley's calico rooster. Bertie was angry. Without stopping to +inquire into the circumstances, as he would have done if it had been any +other boy, he at once jumped to a wrong conclusion. He thought that Jack +was plotting mischief, and without waiting for his hot blood to cool, he +called, quickly, + +"Come out of that!" + +"Do you know what you are gabbing about?" queried Jack. + +"I guess I do." + +"And I guess you don't. Supposing you hold your horses a minute?" + +"It is a mean thing, any how, to meddle with another fellow's trap." + +"It is your trap, is it?" + +"Yes, it is." + +"Well, who's a meddling?" + +"You." + +"I ain't." + +"You are." + +"I say I ain't; and who knows best, I should like to know?" + +You may know that Bertie was angry, or he would not have stooped to +bandy words with such a boy. Besides he would have been afraid, for Jack +was a big boy. He was larger, stronger, and a great deal older than +Bertie, and he was much better qualified for fighting in every way. He +had had a deal of practice. But when a boy is angry, he does not stop to +consider consequences. It was fortunate for Bertie that Jack did not +feel disposed to quarrel with him. He could have shaken him as easily as +a dog shakes a squirrel, and resistance would have been of no avail. For +once, Jack was doing nothing to be ashamed of, and he knew he was right. +That helps a boy a great deal. When he knows he is right, he does not +feel half so much like striking back. Perhaps you think he did strike +back when he replied to Bertie's uncivil words; but you must remember +that Jack was a desperate fellow, and if he had not been well disposed +he would hardly have taken the trouble to strike with his tongue. And +language that would sound very rough from the lips of a better bred boy, +was not so bad, after all, coming from Jack Midnight. He was secretly +very much ashamed of his conduct towards the rooster, particularly as +Charley and Bertie had never taken any notice of it. They had simply +allowed him to go his own way, taking care, however, that his track +never crossed theirs. When they could avoid it, they did not speak to +him; when they could not, they were civil in speech--never rude. This +annoyed and humbled Jack. To have enemies that were not enemies, was a +new experience. He looked upon all as against him who were not his +avowed friends. But here were two boys who could not be friends, and, +although he had deeply injured them, he could not call them enemies. He +wanted to do something to show that he was very sorry about the rooster; +something to show that he was not bad, clear through. Bertie's quick +temper flashed, and then went out. + +"It looked very much like it, as I came up," he said, in a more gentle +tone. + +"Somebody's been a meddling," retorted Jack; "but 'twas not me." + +"Who then?" + +Jack pointed to the trap. The bait was gone! Yes, somebody had been +meddling. + +"I should like to know who," said Bertie. + +Jack laughed. + +"Follow them tracks, and may be you'll find him. It is easy getting out +of your trap as well as in." + +Bertie eagerly examined the tracks. + +"Musquash," said Jack. + +"You don't mean to say that there has really been one in the trap?" + +"Been in and out again. He has had one good meal, perhaps he will come +for another." + +Bertie was so delighted at having caught something that at first he did +not mind its getting away at all; but when he came to reflect, he was +sorry to have lost such a prize. If he could only have carried it home +in triumph, how Charley would have stared! + +"If that was my trap," said Jack, "I'd fix it." + +"What would you do?" + +"Tinker that spring so that it wouldn't hold fire, you bet." + +"I did not know it needed tinkering." + +"It would puzzle a musquash to get out of _my_ trap. I'd fix it so that +it would go off if he touched it with a whisker." + +"I don't know how," said Bertie. + +Jack gladly offered his services. Here was a chance to make a small +payment on account. + +"If you would be so kind, and not mind my speaking cross just now." + +"That's nothing," returned Jack, shortly. "Now if I can find anything +to 'couter' with." + +He searched his pockets and brought up a coil of wire, some string, a +file, a pair of pincers, and so many different articles that Bertie +laughingly inquired if he was a travelling tool-chest. + +"Pockets is handy," said Jack, "if they ain't holey. Whenever I come +across anything, I jest drops it in." + +And so he did. Many things went into Jack's pockets that did not belong +there. + +"Now hand us the trap, and we will get ready for the musquash." + +"Will he come again, do you think?" + +"What's to hinder? He knows what good grub is as well as you do. He will +be poking his nose in again as sure as you're born." + +"I hope he will," said Bertie. + +"Did you ever catch one?" + +"No." + +"Never skun one, I suppose?" + +"Never." + +"I have, heaps of all kinds. Sold 'em too. That's a neat trade." + +"Selling them?" + +"Skinning 'em." + +"I expect it is," said Bertie. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A DEADLY SNARE FOR THE MUSK-RAT. + + +"I have been in the business, off and on," continued Jack, "ever since I +was the size of a hop toad." + +"It pays, doesn't it?" + +"That depends. Sometimes it does, and then again it don't. It's +accordin' to the critter. Mink, now, fitches a fancy price when you can +catch 'em. They are a mighty scarce article now-a-days. But rabbits +ain't worth shucks. It is a job to skin 'em, they are so tender; and +they won't fetch nothing." + +"How about musk-rats?" + +"Got an eye to business, eh?" + +"If I am lucky enough to catch one, I should like to sell the skin." + +"Well, musquash pays if it is skun right." + +"How is that? A skin is a skin, isn't it?" + +"Yes; but a skin with the head on is one thing, and a skin with the head +off is another, as you will find out if you ever try it on." + +"I shouldn't think that would make any difference." + +"It does a heap. A quarter is the most you can get without the head." + +"And with it?" + +"Fifty cents for a big one." + +"Is that so?" + +"Well, it is." + +"I am very glad you told me," said Bertie. + +"It is a little thing worth knowing," returned Jack. "Never caught a +pole-cat, I take it." + +"I never caught anything," said Bertie. + +"Seen 'em?" + +"I don't know that ever I did." + +"Smelt 'em?" + +Bertie confessed that he had no acquaintance whatever with the animal, +but mentioned that once they found a skunk in Charley's chicken-house +sucking eggs, and they killed it. + +"Him's um," said Jack. + +"Oh!" + +"Didn't cook it, I suppose." + +"Cook it!" + +"Yes." + +"What for?" + +"Eat, of course." + +Bertie could not conceal his disgust. + +"You needn't turn up your nose at _him_," continued Jack. "Good eating +_he_ is. Tender as a sucking pig, and tastes so nigh like I'd stump +_you_ to tell the difference." + +Jack was going to say "tender as a chicken," but he remembered the +calico and so avoided the use of the word. + +"I am sure you are joking," declared Bertie. + +"Not a bit of it," said Jack. "I wouldn't ask for a better dinner. The +critter is like some other folks, not half so bad as you try to make him +out. He has got a bad name, and that is the worst thing there is about +him." + +"Except his odor." + +"That's not so bad either after you get used to it." + +"Ugh!" + +"Musquash is no better, if they do pay a good price for it." + +"Do they?" + +"They do. To make scent of for the ladies. One of them little bags will +make gallons and gallons, they say. I know a man that buys all he can +get. There you are! A heap better off than you was before. I reckon +that trap will hold a musquash next time it catches one." + +"Thank you," said Bertie. + +"And if the spring don't happen to kill him, just touch him on the head +with a stone. A little tap will do it, for he is mighty tender about the +head." + +Bertie said "Thank you" again, and Jack helped him bait and set the +trap, and this time a deadly snare was laid for the musk-rat. Bertie was +late to breakfast. Charley looked up inquiringly as he walked in and +took his seat at the table; but Bertie had not a word of explanation to +offer. Charley had laughed at him so often that he meant to keep his own +counsel till the game was sure; but he could not help showing in his +face that something unusual had happened. + +"Catch anything?" said Charley. + +"No." + +"Trap sprung?" + +"No." + +"Nothing in it, eh?" + +"No." + +"I thought so." + +Bertie laughed as he considered how _very_ empty the trap was. + +"What are you laughing at?" + +"I was thinking," said Bertie. + +"Meet anybody up there?" + +"One fellow." + +"Who?" + +"Jack Midnight." + +"What was he doing?" + +"Looking round." + +"Give you any of his impudence?" + +"No. He was very civil and obliging. He offered to fix the spring of my +trap." + +"You didn't let him?" + +"I could not refuse without hurting his feelings, and I did not want to +do that." + +"I should, plump. My feelings are not seared over yet. I have not +forgotten the calico." + +"And he has not." + +"Do you believe it?" + +"I do, Charley. I think he feels awful cheap about it." + +"I hope he does." + +"I know he does." + +"He didn't say so?" + +"No; but he acted so." + +"If he feels cheap I hope he will stay so and keep his distance." + +Bertie hoped so too. He was very much obliged to Jack for helping him +with the trap, but he did not care to be on familiar terms with him. He +was not the right sort of boy for a companion. On the whole he was sorry +to have met him at the spring. + +"I hope I shall not fall in with him to-morrow morning," he said, half +to himself, half to Charley. + +"You won't if you stay at home." + +"I shall not do that." + +"You intend to follow up the trapping business then?" + +"I do." + +"If you meet Jack Midnight every morning?" + +"Certainly." + +"How long?" + +"Till I catch something." + +"If it takes all summer?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you _are_ a goose." + +"You have told me that so often, I begin to believe it." + +"I wouldn't take that early walk for nothing." + +"No more would I. But if you felt sure of your game, you wouldn't mind +the walk." + +"No," said Charley. + +"Well, I am sure." + +"Whew!" + +"I am as sure as I can be of anything that has not really happened." + +"Ho, ho! That is very well put in. I wish I had as many dollars as I +know you won't catch a musk-rat. I could buy the Baby Pitcher's canary +to-morrow. Couldn't I, pet?" + +Flora had come in, as she did every morning, to inquire about the +musk-rat. + +"Buy it to-day," said Flora. + +"Couldn't buy it to-day for want of money." + +"You must not think anything about the bird," said Bertie, "for Charley +never will have any money." + +"What a prospect!" said Charley. + +"Not a very bright one for Flora, I must confess." + +"She has my word, and that is as good as gold." + +"Mustn't tell a story," said Flora. "If you don't have any money that +will be a story." + +"And if Bertie does not catch a musk-rat, that will be a story." + +"Yes. He said he would." + +"And I will. You believe that I will keep my word?" + +"I do, and Dinah does." + +"Do you believe in the musk-rat?" + +"I do. Is he in the trap?" + +"He was not in the trap this morning." + +"May be there now." + +"Yes, dear, he may be." + +"And then again he mayn't," said Charley. "If I were in the Baby +Pitcher's place I would give up looking for that animal. Her poor little +black eyes will be all faded out." + +"Won't either, Charley Waters. I am going home." + +"Say good by, dear." + +Flora would not say good by. She did not like Charley's manner. She +wished to be treated with proper respect as she informed Dinah on the +way home. + +"Gemplemen don't talk so, and ladies don't. Gemplemen say 'Yes, I thank +you,' and 'If you please.' And I do. Charley Waters don't. But you must +not mind what he says. He don't know nothing. Bertie does." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +SOMETHING IN THE TRAP. + + +The next time Bertie went to the spring, he expected to find Jack +awaiting him. No one was there, however; not even the musk-rat. The trap +remained just as he left it, and the bait was undisturbed. He was glad +not to meet Jack (who had been and gone); but he was not a little +disappointed about the musk-rat. He began to cherish hard feelings +towards it. It was too bad of him not to come into the trap and be +caught, when such pains had been taken to receive him properly. The trap +was as inviting as trap could be. It said quite plainly, "Will you walk +into my parlor?" and never dropped a word as to getting out again. What +more could a musk-rat ask? He examined the tracks in the wet ground, but +could not make out that any of them were fresh. He did not believe that +anything had been near the trap during the night. It was quite +provoking, for to-morrow would be Sunday. Of course he could not travel +down to the spring on Sunday, and Monday was so far off! He declared +that he could not wait till Monday. But there was no help for it. The +hours were not at all disposed to humor his impatience. They moved along +at their usual slow pace, and wore away minute by minute, as was their +custom. But they brought Monday morning at last. He rose early, and set +out in quite a hopeful mood; but as he walked, his spirits began to +flag. The nearer he got to the spring, the less hope he had. He was +trying to prepare himself for the very worst that could happen--a trap +with nothing in it--when somebody called "Hooray!" It was Jack, who had +been waiting almost an hour. When he saw Bertie coming, he danced and +threw his arms about in a manner wonderful to behold. Bertie started +into a run, for he inferred from Jack's antics that something unusual +had happened. + +"Hooray!" cried Jack again, as Bertie came up, panting and blowing equal +to Jack himself, who always breathed as if he had been running. + +"What have you got to say to _that_ critter?" + +Bertie could hardly believe his eyes, for they rested on the biggest +musk-rat he had ever seen. It was a beauty, too! Such dark fur! And such +a length of smooth, hairless tail! Bertie was delighted; and though the +musk-rat was a large one, his eyes magnified it to such a degree that +it looked three times as large as it really was. + +[Illustration: What have you got to say to that critter?--p. 78.] + +"That is a sight worth looking at, ain't it now?" + +"It is a buster!" said Bertie. + +"It is the biggest fellow that has been trapped this season. You won't +catch nary 'nother like _him_. He is a whopper!" + +"And it is alive, too!" + +"Half and half. He is hurt that bad, it won't take much to finish him. +He would show fight if he wasn't dead beat. Shall I pop him over?" + +"I don't want to kill him," said Bertie. + +"Have you had a fair squint at him?" + +"Yes." + +"I won't be long settling of his hash." + +Jack tapped him on the head with a stone, and after a few shivers the +animal was still. + +"That killed him so sudden he didn't know what was a hurting of him." + +"Why did he shiver then?" + +"They always do that. They always wiggle when the heart's a-beating. +They are dead all the same, though. Now you want to take his hide off." + +"Not yet," said Bertie, quickly. + +"Better be a doing of it while he is warm." + +"I must show him up first." + +As he raised the musk-rat tenderly by the long, bare tail, his heart +swelled in his breast. What would Charley say to musk-rat catching now? +He himself had never dreamed of luck like this, and Charley would be +astounded. He was absently moving off, when Jack called: + +"Here, you young trapper! Don't be a-dodging off without making ready +for more of the same family!" + +"I shall not set the trap again," said Bertie. + +"What's the reason?" + +"It is a long walk up here, and I am satisfied with my game," he added, +proudly. + +"Do you mind lending of it to a feller?" + +"Certainly not. You can keep it as long as you wish." + +"That is clever, now. I'll set it in the same place, jest for luck. I +say, don't you want some help about skinning the critter?" + +Bertie thought he could manage it alone. + +"It will be an awkward job, if you never tried it." + +"I suppose it will," said Bertie. + +"And you may spile the head. I don't mind showing of you how it's done." + +Bertie thanked Jack, but declined to trouble him. The fact was, he was +in a hurry to get home with his prize. He could not stop to talk about +anything, for Charley had not seen it. Didn't he open his black eyes +when he saw what Bertie had brought? + +And didn't Bertie feel proud and happy? But he did not make much ado +about his good fortune, as Charley would have done under similar +circumstances. He allowed the game to speak for itself. At first Charley +was inclined to doubt that it was caught in Bertie's trap; but Bertie +asked--with some vanity, we confess--if he could mention any boy who +would be likely to give up an animal like that, and Charley could not. + +Everybody came out to examine Bertie's prize, and everybody said it was +a beauty. Flora clapped her hands, for now she was to have all the +'fumery she wanted. It lay at full length on the piazza, until it had +been duly admired by every one on the premises, and then it was carried +over to Grandma's. + +"Bless me!" exclaimed the old lady, as the children rushed in and laid +the musk-rat at her feet. + +"Bless me! Open that window, Amy dear. I never can breathe with a +creetur like that in the house. Take it right out, dears." + +"But we want you to look at it, Grandma. Bertie caught it." + +"In the trap," added Flora. + +She patted Bertie on the head, and said he was a dear boy, but she +should stifle if they did not carry the creetur out. So to please +Grandma they carried it out and laid it on the door-stone. She could +look at it from the open window with a handkerchief at her nose. + +"Ain't it a stunner?" said Charley. + +"It is a proper large one," said Grandma. "It makes me think of your +father, Amy, dear, when he was a boy. He was always fetching home some +sort of a creetur. La! how natural it does seem. I remember once he took +to killing black cats. He fetched home as many as twenty altogether, and +their skins, stretched out to dry on the side of the barn, stared me in +the face every time I went into the yard. How this creetur does carry a +body back, to be sure." + +"This fellow wears a pretty jacket," said Charley. "I wish we knew the +easiest way of getting it off. Do you know, Grandma?" + +"La, child, I never was no hand for such doings." + +"What a question," said Amy. "Of course Grandma does not know." + +"We had better commence operations, if we expect to get through before +school time," said Bertie. "That is, if Grandma has looked at him long +enough. Have you, Grandma?" + +"Bless the child!" said Grandma, who had endured the creature simply to +please her darlings. "Never mind staying longer on my account. But drop +in as you go to school, and get your luncheon." + +"Tarts?" queried Bertie. + +But Grandma smiled and closed the window, to shut out, if possible, the +stifling odor of musk. + +"I almost wish I had taken up with Jack's offer," Bertie said to +Charley, as they carried the musk-rat home. + +"What was that?" + +"He wanted to skin the fellow for me." + +"I can boss that job," said Charley. + +"And so can I?" + +That was a part both understood, and it was the only part. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JACK PULLS OFF THE WARM JACKET. + + +Bertie sharpened his knife and prepared to commence operations, Charley, +Amy and Flora looking on. + +"You begin on the inside of the hind leg," said Charley. + +"Oh, I know where to begin and where to leave off; but the thing is to +do it neatly, without making a botch. Here goes." + +Bertie flourished his knife and began to cut. He made a long slit on the +inside of one hind leg. + +"Treat them both alike," said Charley. + +Flora, who had been watching the operation, suddenly cried out: + +"Take your arms down and go away. You are a bad boy. Charley Waters says +so; and I do." + +Bertie turned quickly to see what, was the matter; and there stood Jack, +with folded arms, resting upon the fence. He tried to call Flora off; +but she flew at Jack with all the fury of a little terrier, her light +curls flying and her dark eyes flashing. + +"You are a bad boy, and you must go away. You cut his head off and his +feet. I looked under the table. He hadn't any clothes on. Had drumsticks +on. Couldn't walk with drumsticks on. Bad boy!" + +Here was a revelation that made Jack feel very small indeed. He came as +near blushing as was possible. The red blood actually showed through his +dark, grimy skin. Bertie was sorry for him. He hastened to open the gate +and bid him come in, a movement that astonished Flora. She had not +another word to say. When the boy that killed the calico-rooster was +invited to walk in at the gate, as if nothing had happened, she was +struck dumb. + +"You were very good to look in upon us," said Bertie, kindly, trying to +make Jack comfortable. "Walk right along. You are in the nick of time; +we had only just started." + +Jack was completely taken aback by Flora's reception, for he was sure +now that the fate of the calico was well known. There had been a +pleasant doubt in his mind before. He had always said to himself, "They +can't prove nothing." He hung his head in an awkward way, and blamed +himself for getting into a scrape. + +"I thought I'd peek in and see how you were getting along," he answered, +sheepishly; "and now I am here, I may as well be a-lending a hand. Give +us yer knife." + +"I had barely got his stockings off," said Bertie, passing the knife. +Jack felt the edge and then examined Bertie's work. + +"Pooty well done to begin with, I call it." + +"Do you, though?" + +"For a green-horn, you know." + +"Oh, yes, I know." + +Jack began where Bertie left off, and he worked so skilfully that in a +few minutes legs and arms were free, and the warm jacket was turned and +pulled over the animal's head. + +"He isn't quite so much of a beauty, come to peel him," said Jack. + +"He is frightful!" declared Amy. "What a net-work of blue veins! They +make me shudder." + +"He looks like a map, with rivers running all over him," said Charley. + +"And how he shines. Ugh!" + +Bertie held up the empty skin. + +"He is as much beholden to dress as anybody that ever I saw, and he +wears the best of cloth too. Custom made, and no danger of a misfit. +None of your slop work about _that_ garment!" + +"I hope you don't call that a garment," said Amy. + +"It is a wardrobe in itself, hat and boots included. He did not carry a +'Saratoga' when he went journeying." + +"Not much," said Charley. + +"What is Jack doing now?" + +He was detaching the little sacks that hold the musk, and he passed them +to Bertie, with the remark that they were worth as much as the critter's +hide. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Charley, examining them curiously. + +"Flora ought to be here. I suppose the 'fumery' belongs to her." + +"To the little miss, is it?" + +"Yes." + +"There is scent enough in one of them bags," said Jack, "to drive the +whole family out of the house." + +Bertie thought if that was the case, one would be better for Flora than +two; so he put one aside and gave the other to Jack, who carefully +wrapped it in paper and dropped it into his roomy pocket. The skin was +then stretched on a board to dry, and, after receiving hearty thanks for +his timely assistance, Jack left the garden, feeling much better +satisfied with himself than when he entered it. He felt that he had +shown his good will, and that the score against him was partially rubbed +out. And so it was. Charley and Bertie were more kindly disposed towards +him than they had ever expected to be, and they concluded that he was +not such a very bad boy, after all. + +"I believe there is good in every one," said Bertie, "if you can only +get at it." + +"Of course there is," said Amy, quickly. "Have you just found that out?" + +"I admit that I have always looked upon Jack as bad clear through." + +"Same here," confessed Charley. + +"Nobody is," declared Amy, with emphasis. + +"It takes these girls to stand up for a fellow, doesn't it?" + +"That's so, Charley. Girls in general, and our Amy in particular." + +"She always did side with Jack; but she was down on me when the poor +calico turned over her garden." + +"Why, Charley!" + +"It is a fact. I leave it to Bert." + +"Don't ask me," said Bertie. + +"You flared up and were truly eloquent on the subject." + +"I never was eloquent in my life." + +"And you never flared up?" + +"I did not say that. But whatever I may be, I am not a genius of any +sort, not even a poet." + +"There's a sly dab at you, Charley." + +"I have not made any poetry lately," said Charley, dubiously. + +"Perhaps the fire in your soul has gone out," said Bertie. "Can't you +kindle it up again?" + +"I am out of kindlings at present. Can I borrow of you, Amy?" + +"It wouldn't be the first time," observed Amy, with a merry twinkle in +her eye. + +"Stabbed again!" declared Bertie, who knew that Charley was in the habit +of borrowing. + +Amy's purse being well fed, was always fat, and Charley's was ever lean +and hungry. Amy was obliging, and Charley not backward in asking favors, +so the lean and hungry purse often brought its pressing needs to the +notice of its rich relation. + +"Amy is a trump!" said Charley, penitently, "and I take it all back. I +am as good a friend to Jack as she is, but I can't exactly swallow the +rooster. He sticks in my throat yet." + +"That will wear away in time," said Bertie. + +"If the rooster troubles you, what do you think of Jack? He has a bigger +lump in his throat than you have, and one that will not go down in a +hurry, I'll warrant." + +"And I pity him," added Amy. "He stole the poor rooster and murdered him +in cold blood, but he is sorry for it, and would bring him to life again +if he could. But he cannot do that. He must be haunted forever by its +ghost instead." + +"Ghost of a rooster!" murmured Charley, in an undertone. But Amy heard +it. + +"Ghost of an evil action," she said, looking at Charley, severely. "He +would be rather a respectable boy, if he was not a Midnight. You cannot +expect much of a born Midnight." + +"No," said Charley. + +It was agreed that to be a born Midnight was a serious misfortune, which +might happen to anybody. It did happen to poor Jack, and so they pitied +him. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +FLORA AN EXILE. + + +Flora did not wait to receive her perfumery. When Jack appeared on the +field she left it, to express her views to Dinah on the subject of bad +boys; and as Dinah had not the power of expressing her sentiments in +return, she was not disturbed by the spirit of contradiction. + +When she got tired of talking to Dinah, she walked over to state her +grievance to Grandma, and to be on hand when the tarts were distributed. +Flora was not old enough to go to school. Her troubles in that direction +had not yet begun, but lunch with her was a very important matter, and +she never failed to be present when it was passed round. Grandma always +had something good ready for the children. "The dear things get so +hungry studying," she said. When she was young, three months schooling +in the winter was enough for any one. + +It was early in the day for lunch, (breakfast was a little more than an +hour old), but Flora could not be put off. She did not possess the +virtue of patience. So when the children happened in as they were going +to school, she stood at the window eating her way through an enormous +tart, which had been made expressly for her: but why the Baby Pitcher +should have the largest tart, only Grandma could tell. The children came +in bringing the full odor of musk in their clothes and in their hair, +and Bertie had the little bag in his pocket. Grandma gasped and opened +all the windows, for she could not breathe the stifling air. + +"Bless the dear things!" she exclaimed. "How they do smell, to be sure!" + +"Smells good!" said Flora, holding out her hand for the "'fumery." + +Bertie gave it to her, and as Grandma could not bear it in the house, +she was obliged to take it out of doors. + +"The air is better now, isn't it, Grandma?" said Bertie, feelingly. + +It was not much better, though Grandma did not say so. The small +particles were floating about, and she was inhaling them with every +breath. She passed round the tarts as speedily as possible, and then the +Little Pitchers were in a hurry to be off. But they did not carry all +the musk away; they left enough to pervade Grandma's house for several +days. But that was only a beginning. Everybody grew tired of the odor +before the skin of the musk-rat was carried away and sold. There was +musk everywhere, in doors and out; and wherever Flora was, the perfume +was sickening. But she would not give it up. She carried the little +sack, which had become dry and hard, in the pocket of her dress from +morning until night, and mamma waited in vain for her to weary of it. At +last it was banished from the house. Mamma decided that it could not +longer be endured. Flora hid it somewhere in the garden, (the place was +known only to herself and Dinah,) and every day enjoyed it as best she +could, in the open air and alone. Even Charley and Bertie were tired of +musk, and they tried first to coax and then to bribe Flora, without +success. Finally they laughed at her, and called her a little cosset. + +"I ain't that," she said to Charley, who gave her the name. She always +doubted Charley. "I ain't anything but a little girl." + +"And a cosset." + +"No." + +"You are turned out to grass, any how." + +"Am I, Bertie?" + +"Not exactly. We will play you are an exile." + +"Well." + +"She had no clear idea of an exile, nor of a cosset; but she had faith +in Bertie, and she felt that an exile must be something very nice." + +"You are an exile," said Charley, "because you cannot go into Grandma's +house." + +"Am I, Bertie?" + +"Yes, dear." + +It was true. She could not go into Grandma's house. She had to choose +between Grandma and the perfumery. But she could stay out on the +door-stone, as the musk-rat had done; and when Grandma talked to her +from the window, she was not obliged to hold a handkerchief to her +nose, as she did when the musk-rat was there. She well knew how to make +amends to the dear child for her cruelty in keeping her out of doors; +and such tempting sweetmeats passed through the window, and such +wonderful shapes of gingerbread, that Flora was very happy in her +banishment. The little exile was not wholly deprived of society, for it +happened, fortunately, that the black baby had no sense of smell. +Whether she had lost it or was born without it, Flora never knew; but +she did not possess it, and so was not annoyed by the odor that troubled +everybody else. It was not long before she was as highly perfumed as her +mistress, and could not be tolerated in the house even for a nap. The +black baby was in disgrace, and she was knocked about so roughly that +her complexion was spoiled and her fine figure very much injured. Flora +had serious thoughts of sending her to be repaired; but she wondered +how she got so many bumps. She did not know that everybody took the +liberty of tossing her out whenever she was found in doors. It was a +common thing to come upon her in unexpected places. Sometimes Flora met +her at the foot of the steps, sometimes at the bottom of the garden; and +once, after a long search, she was discovered hanging from the bough of +a tree, with arms extended as if pleading for help. Flora could not +reach her, and she was brought down from her perilous position by +Charley and a ladder. + +"I don't blame her for trying to hang herself," said Charley, who saw +the housemaid when she threw her out of an upper window, "and I hope she +will have better luck next time." + +"Didn't hang herself," replied Flora. + +"Wanted to fly." + +"Like a bird." + +"She did." + +"Thought she was a blackbird, may be." + +"Yes," said Flora, clapping her hands and laughing, "thought she was." + +"She was flying away from the musk." + +"No!" + +"I believe she was," said Charley, solemnly, "and if you take your eyes +off I am afraid you will lose her. You must watch her closely." + +"I will." + +Flora held the baby tightly in her arms, to prevent her soaring out of +sight. + +"Can't fly now, Charley Waters." + +"No, but you must hold on." + +Flora held on tighter than ever. + +"And I would not let her go into the house any more," continued Charley. +"It does not agree with her. She cannot stay in the house." + +"Keep her in the garden." + +"I would." + +"In the arbor?" + +"Yes," said Charley, after pausing to weigh the matter, "I would keep +her in the arbor." + +So Dinah was forced to give up her old quarters in the house for a new +home in the arbor, and Flora informed her why the change was made. For a +time she was closely watched, but as she did not again attempt to fly +away, Flora concluded she was contented in her new situation, and, after +a while, ventured to carry her indoors occasionally. But Charley was +right. Dinah could not stay in the house. She was sure to be tossed out +by somebody, though Flora did not know that. She thought the black baby +was pining for the outer air. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +FLORA GOES TO RIDE IN THE LITTLE BLUE CART. + + +Flora began to grow tired of staying so much alone, but she was not +ready to give up the "'fumery," so she had to continue an exile. Dinah +was no longer good company, for she had lost many of her faculties, and +one eye. She glanced at Flora, with the one that was left, in a very +singular manner. Perhaps she wanted to explain to her mistress that +somebody had taken a fancy to the blue button, but you must remember she +could not talk. She could only stare in a very startling way. Flora did +not like it at all, and at Amy's suggestion tied a bandage round her +head, which completely hid the defect, and softened the expression of +the blue button remaining. She was supposed to be sweetly sleeping in +the library this pleasant afternoon. She was really lying in a heap on +the kitchen door step, and Flora, for lack of something better to do was +hanging lazily on the big gate, gazing down the road. She was in that +critical condition when mischief "takes." + +She had climbed the gate and was hanging there, ready to be swayed by +the first wind that blew, whether fair or foul. It happened to be a foul +wind, and it came in the form of a queer little cart drawn by a limping +horse moving slowly up the road. The body of the cart was a square box, +and it was painted blue. The wheels were red. The old horse had been +gray in his palmy days; he was now a dingy white. Flora liked him +because he looked sober, and because he jumped so high when he walked; +and when the cart got near enough for her to see its bright colors, she +concluded to take a ride. So she got down, drew the bolt and opened the +big gate (thereby breaking one of mamma's rules), and then she went out +and waited at the side of the road for her carriage. The limping horse +jumped so high at every step that he did not get over the ground very +fast, and Flora had some time to wait. Long enough to realize that she +was about to do a very wrong thing, and grieve mamma. But she did not +once think of that; her head was turned by the little blue cart, and the +old white horse. When the driver came within speaking distance, she +nodded as a signal for him to stop, and he, thinking the child had +business with him said "Whoa!" and the horse stopped. + +"Anything in my line to-day, little girl?" + +"Yes," said Flora. "I should like--" + +"Any soap grease, old boots--iron, bottles, rags, newspapers? Carry the +best of soap, and pay cash on the nail. Eight cents for white, three for +colored." + +"To take a ride," said Flora, somewhat bewildered, but finishing her +sentence. + +"Hey?" + +"If you please, I should like to take a ride." + +"Not with me?" + +"I should." + +"Not in this cart?" + +"I think it is a very pretty cart, and I like your horse very much." + +"You do, eh?" + +"Yes," said Flora. + +"And I don't. That's the odds. He is rayther antiquated even for my +business. The crows will have a bone or two to pick with him one of +these days. Think they won't?" + +[Illustration: If you please, I should like to take a ride?--p. 109.] + +"If you please I should like to take a ride," said Flora, for the third +time. + +"Polly want a cracker?" + +Flora did not understand what the driver meant by that, so she again +repeated her request, at which he laughed heartily and said,-- + +"Polly does want a cracker." + +"Then why don't you give it to her?" queried Flora. + +"Would you?" + +"I would." + +"You are particular who you ride with, I reckon." + +"I am." + +"You pick and choose your company, you do." + +"I do." + +"Well, then, scramble up. The seat is rayther narrow, but we can stow +close." + +"That is not polite. Gemplemen don't do that way." + +"They don't, eh?" + +"No. They get down and help ladies up." + +"You don't expect me to get down!" + +"I do." + +"What! when I have been bobbing round all day?" + +"Yes!" said Flora. + +"Can't do it. I've got the rheumatiz." + +"My Grandma has that,--in her back." + +"She does, eh?" + +Flora nodded. + +"Well, you may give my respects to the old lady, when you see her, and +tell her I have got it too." + +"I will. Want to go to ride, now." + +"And you won't scramble up?" + +"Want you to get down." + +The driver laughed, but held out his hand, and bade her take a good +hold. The hand was very red, and it was greasy; but Flora did not mind +that. She grasped it firmly, and was lifted to the narrow seat, and then +the lame horse started into a jog. Beside being narrow, the seat was so +short that Flora had to sit very close to the greasy driver, and her +pretty blue dress was not improved by contact with his frock, which was +blue, also. + +"Papa's horse does not dance that way," she said, regretfully. + +"It isn't every horse that can be trained to that sort of thing," +returned the driver, gravely. "Mine, now, is one out of a thousand. How +will your pa swap?" + +"I wish he would," she answered earnestly, for the first time looking +her companion full in the face. "Why!" she exclaimed, joyfully, "It is +you, isn't it?" + +"Oh, yes! it's me. Have you just found that out?" + +"I thought you was a stranger." + +"You did, eh!" + +"I did." + +"I knew you was a stranger all the time." + +"But I ain't." + +"No?" + +"No. I am Flora Lee." + +"And who am I?" + +"You are Mr. Podge." + +"Podge?" + +"You are." + +"Not if I know myself." + +"You are, too, Mr. Hodge Podge. That's what you told me. Don't you +remember your own name?" + +He remembered all about it now, and he laughed so heartily at the +recollection, that he dropped the reins, and had to get down to pick +them up, which pleased Flora very much. When the reins dropped, the +limping horse stood still. + +"I didn't know it was you, Miss Fiddle-de-dee," he said, as he mounted +to his seat, and urged him into a jog again. + +"How is Deacon Brown?" + +"He is pretty well, I thank you. My name is Flora Lee." + +"And how are all the Sunday children?" + +"Oh! they are pretty well, I thank you too. And I am; and Dinah is. She +is asleep." + +"You have had your face washed since I saw you last. That is the reason +I didn't know you. I never saw you with a clean face before." + +"Hands, too," said Flora, holding out one plump hand. She was holding on +with the other. + +"How we are slicked up!" he exclaimed, "and it isn't Sunday, either!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SHE SAYS GOOD-BY TO THE SOAP MAN. + + +The readers of the Little Pitcher stories will recognize this young man. +Flora met him one day in a crowd around a peddler's wagon, drawn thither +by a poor blind kitten that had been brought to light from the depths of +the peddler's rag-bag. She had not forgotten him, but he never would +have thought of her again, if she had not addressed him by the odd name +he had given her as his own. That refreshed his memory, and he laughed +to think that she really believed him when he told her his name was +Hodge Podge. + +As the little cart was jerked along over the rough ground, Flora became +very chatty. She did not in the least mind being jolted, and she was not +afraid of falling from the seat for she held fast to the driver's greasy +frock. The blue box behind her was full of soap grease, but the cover +was down, and the baskets that hung upon the iron hooks that bristled +from all sides, were filled with bottles and scraps of various kinds, +that made a pleasant jingle as they were jostled against each other by +the motion of the cart. She had never enjoyed a ride so much. Her +father's easy carriage, with cushioned seat and elastic springs, could +not be compared to the soap man's little box on red wheels. Besides, +papa's horse could not dance, he had never learned how; and he ran so +fast that she could not see the flowers and the pretty sights as they +rode along. She was not at all concerned as to how the ride would end, +and where she was going she had not the slightest idea. So the old horse +jogged along, carrying her farther and farther from home every minute, +and she chatted sociably with Mr. Podge, and never felt so happy in her +life. + +The soap man was going home. He felt good-natured and comfortable, for +he had had a prosperous day. It was only four o'clock, but his little +cart was well loaded, and his last call had been made. And that was the +reason he did not stop at any of the houses in the village. If he had, +somebody would have recognized Flora. And they passed a very few persons +on the road, but not one who knew that the little girl in the blue dress +did not belong to the man in the blue frock. When he thought Flora had +rode far enough, he stopped the cart and told her to "hop down." But she +was not ready to hop down; she was just beginning to enjoy the ride. + +"You won't know the way back," he said, warningly. + +"I shall," said Flora. + +"And if you ride any farther, I may not let you go home at all. You +don't know where you are now." + +"I do. Going to take a ride." + +"It will be dark by-and-by." + +"Not dark now." + +"And it is going to rain." + +"Make the horse jump." + +The old horse started off once more, and this time a little faster. He +seemed to know that he was heading towards home. The driver was really +troubled about Flora, for he knew the little girl had rode far enough. +He was willing to indulge her by carrying her a little way but he wanted +her to get down when he said the word. He tried to frighten her by +saying he should not stop the horse again. + +"Don't want to stop," she answered, taking the musk from her pocket and +holding it to his nose. "Smell?" + +He started back and made a wry face. + +"What is that?" he asked. + +"My 'fumery." + +"Your fumery." + +"It is. Bertie caught it in a trap." + +"_That's_ what I have been smelling all along." + +"Yes," said Flora. + +"I thought there was a musquash somewhere near." + +"It is only me." + +She took a prolonged sniff, and restored the precious perfume to her +pocket. + +"Mamma don't like it, and Grandma don't. I do. And Dinah does. And you +do." + +"Not much, I don't." + +"Smells good?" + +"Good and strong, yes. Now little musquash, farewell." + +"No," said Flora. + +"Look here, miss. Won't you catch it for running away?" + +"Why, Mr. Podge! What a funny man! Ain't running away. Taking a ride. +Runned away once. To Deacon Brown. Had dinner and a nap." + +"Didn't you tell me you was one of the Sunday children?" + +"I did." + +"Don't believe it." + +Flora's eyes flashed. Not believe that she was one of the Sunday +children! + +"I don't," he repeated solemnly. "They know how to behave. Sunday +children don't run away, they don't, and good girls mind their mother." + +"I do." + +"A tough one to mind you are." + +"Do, too, Mr. Podge. Want to go home now." + +"You can't stop the horse." + +"I can. Whoa!" + +But he did not stop, for his master slyly urged him on. She was in +earnest now: she really wanted to go home, and she called "Whoa!" again, +but the old horse still jogged on. + +"I told you so," said the driver. + +"Oh, Mr. Horse!" she cried in alarm. "Won't you please to stop. I want +to get out. Just one minute, dear Mr. Horse, if you please." + +This appeal seemed to touch his feelings, and, to her great delight, he +stopped. + +"He knows what politeness is, he does," said the driver. "Now look sharp +before you get down, and see if you ever were in this place before." + +Flora did as she was bid, and she saw orchards white with blossoms, a +rustic bridge, a few scattering houses; but not one familiar object. +They had passed out of the village, and the country was strange to her. +In vain she looked for papa's house, or Grandma's; they were nowhere to +be seen. + +"Well, Miss Fiddle-de-dee?" + +Flora sighed heavily. + +"You are lost, eh?" + +"Can't see papa's house. Too bad!" + +"I thought so." + +He took up the reins, and the poor tired horse turned about unwillingly. +He did not want to go back, and would not believe his master was in +earnest till he felt a sharp tingle from the whip. + +"Don't want to ride any more," said Flora, wearily; "want to get out." + +"Getting scared, eh?" + +"Flora is tired." + +She was beginning to realize her situation, and felt in a hurry to see +home again. + +"I shan't dump you here, miss," said the man, "so you may as well set +still a while longer. If you are lost, likely as not somebody will blame +me. I will carry you back a piece, and when you think you know the road +I will put you down. Lean your head against my arm if you are tired." + +Flora would not do that for she suddenly discovered that the sleeve was +greasy, and she moved as far away from it as the narrow seat would +permit. But she did not dare let go for the cart jolted worse than ever. +The man drove slowly along, and she anxiously scanned the houses as they +passed. Once or twice he stopped, but Flora could not tell where she +was, and not till they got into the village did the surroundings look +familiar. Then she exclaimed-- + +"Goody! I know now." + +"You are sure?" + +"I am. Go that way," pointing in the right direction. + +"Well, then, hop down; and when you beg a ride again, be sure you know +the driver before you get in. Do you hear?" + +"I do. Good-by, Mr. Podge." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +AND LOSES HER WAY. + + +Flora jumped down and ran away without thanking the soap man for the +ride, or for his kindness in bringing her so far on her journey home. +She was glad to get away from the cart and the limping horse, and the +poor old horse was glad too. You ought to have seen him when his head +was turned the other way again. He trotted along so briskly with the +little blue cart, that anybody could have told he was running away from +Flora. Perhaps his supper was waiting for him, as Flora's was for her, +and he was in a hurry to eat it. They went so fast in opposite +directions that in a few minutes they were out of sight of each other. + +Flora was now glad to walk. She had been so long cramped upon the narrow +seat, that it was a pleasure to stretch her limbs and skip about; or +would have been, only she was so hungry. It is dreadful to be hungry +when there is nothing good to eat in your pocket. There was nothing good +to eat in Flora's pocket. She turned it wrong side out, hoping to find a +few crumbs in the corners, but there was not one; and then she +remembered that it was her blue dress which had been worn but a few +days; not long enough to gather woolly crumbs. + +"Too bad!" she murmured, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was +now more hungry than before. And at that moment a bowl of nice bread and +milk was on the table waiting for her; but between her and it was a +long, weary walk. It would not have seemed far to Charley or Bertie, +and it really was only a mile, but a mile is a long journey for little +tired feet, and Flora was hungry too. She could not see very well as she +put the things back into her pocket, the tears blinded her. Perhaps that +was the reason she left something out. And what do you suppose it was? +She walked away and left her precious "'fumery" lying on the ground. Of +course she did not know it, and she felt dreadfully about it afterwards, +but she never could tell where she lost it. + +While she was putting the things back, she felt some spatters on her +head. She looked up, and there was such a black cloud overhead. It was +true, then, what the driver of the blue cart had said. The rain was +coming, and it seemed to be growing dark, too. What if the rain and +darkness should both overtake her before she got home? She must make +haste now. She hurried on as fast as her little feet would carry her. +She was running away from the rain and the night. She did not think of +applying at any of the houses for shelter, or of asking for food; she +had but one wish, to get home to dear mamma. By-and-by the tired feet +began to flag, but she felt no more spatters, and she was glad that she +had left the shower behind. It was lighter, too; she could run faster +than the night. As there was to be no rain, she concluded to rest if she +came to a nice place, and soon she came to a very nice place just off +the road, which looked so inviting that she sat down and leaned her head +against the smooth, grassy mound. It was sheltered by fine old trees, +and the new grass and the fresh earth smelt sweet, as she laid her wet +cheek against the cool pillow, that she could not make up her mind to +leave it. She said to herself that she would rest one little minute, but +when the little minute was gone, she had forgotten the night was +following so fast upon her footsteps. She lay drowsily watching the +shining bugs and creeping things that shared her green pillow, and +thought how happy she should feel if it were not for being so very +hungry. And then she was no longer hungry, for sleep stole upon her +unawares, and no one in passing noticed the curly-haired child lying on +the damp ground, with tears upon her cheek, and the night that was +creeping on so surely, overtook her and passed by, dropping his mantle +of darkness upon her as she lay asleep. And the shower came next, and +tried to wake her by sprinkling her with gentle drops. It said quite +plainly, "The night has come, and the rain. Hurry, little one!" But +Flora did not wake till the north wind shook her roughly, asking, in +gruff tones, "What are you doing here?" Then she sat up, rubbed her +eyes, and tried to collect her scattered ideas. Why was the wind +shaking her so roughly? And what made her pillow cold and wet? She +thought she was at home in her own bed, and she called aloud, "mamma!" +But there was no mamma to answer. Then she felt the raindrops upon her +face, and heard them pattering on the leaves of the big trees, and the +wind whistled among the branches, and shook them as it had shaken her, +making them cry out with pain, and she remembered all at once that she +had laid down for one little minute to rest, but what made it so dark +and cold she did not know. + +She was certain that she had left the night far behind; yet here it was, +and the rain. Her pretty blue dress was wet through, and the dampness +had taken the life out of her garden hat, so that its broad rim flapped +about her face in a very uncomfortable way. Little rivulets trickled +down from it upon her neck and shoulders, and her wet curls clung +closely; but they could not keep her warm. She got up and tried to find +the road. She had wandered from it in search of a resting place, and now +it was lost. She could not find it anywhere. She was afraid to venture +far from the grassy mound, yet the road was but a short distance away. A +few steps more, and she would have seen friendly lights glancing from +two or three houses; but the darkness confused her, and sleep had +benumbed her senses. Oh, if some one would come and carry her to mamma! +It was so dreadful to be alone in the night. It was worse than hunger +and cold. If she only had Dinah! Dinah would be sorry. Poor Dinah! She +was in as bad a plight as her mistress. No one had taken her from the +door-step where she was lying in a heap, soaked through and through by +the rain. All her faculties were gone now, all her members disordered. +There was nothing about her worth preserving but the one glass eye. +Flora happily was spared this knowledge, and the very thought of the +black baby was a comfort. Suddenly, something cold touched her hand and +startled her. It was the nose of a large dog. She was not at all +frightened when the great creature looked up at her and inquired what +the trouble was. She was overjoyed at finding something to speak to. She +clasped her arms around his neck and kissed him twice on the forehead, +and he was much pleased with the reception. He kissed her many times, +and wagged his tail with vigor. He was telling her that he was very +sorry to find such a nice little girl out so late; but that he knew she +_was_ a nice little girl, and he should like the pleasure of seeing her +home. And Flora understood him perfectly. She was no longer alone. She +held the dog's shaggy head close to the bosom of her wet dress and told +him she was lost, and that he was a splendid old fellow to poke his +nose into her hand, and that if he would show her the way to mamma's +house he should have as many bones as he could eat. And the bones made +her think of her own bowl of bread and milk, waiting on the table at +home. Was it waiting there now, or had somebody carried it away, +thinking she would never need it? She sighed, and patted her friend's +cold nose, and whispered that she was very hungry. He understood all +about that, too. Many a time he had gone to bed without any supper; but +he said nothing to Flora of his own sufferings. He licked her hand in +silent sympathy. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CHARLEY SWALLOWS THE ROOSTER. + + +They went out into the road together, Flora clinging closely to the +dog's shaggy coat and talking pleasantly as they trotted along, side by +side. + +"Do you live somewhere? I do. When I get there. Don't know the way. You +do, nice doggy. I like you. Are you all wet? I am. And cold? I am too. +Musn't cry if you are wet. I don't, and good dogs don't. Get home pretty +soon." + +When she saw houses and the lights shining, she was rejoiced, for now +she would have supper, dry clothes and a warm bed. She fell on her new +friend's neck and embraced him again; but for him, she would not have +found the road. She might have wandered about all night in the cold and +rain. The dog started off with a purpose. There was no doubt in his mind +as to the best course. Finding a brisk trot unsuited to Flora's weak +condition, he toned down and trudged along steadily at a moderate pace +till he reached a shabby dwelling, with ricketty steps in front, that +creaked as he went up, and an old door that shook when he pressed his +nose against it. There was one small window through which the light of +the fire was dancing, and it looked very pleasant to Flora. The dog gave +a short, quick bark, and a woman appeared at the window; but no one +opened the door. Flora saw the woman very plainly, but she could not see +Flora. The dog waited patiently a moment, and then barked again, at the +same time scratching upon the door with his big paw. It opened this +time, and a sharp voice said: "Come in." + +Doggy simply looked in and wagged his tail. + +"Well, then, stay out." + +The door was about to close when another voice said, "Old woman, the +brute is a-telling of us something. Can't you sense nothing?" and Flora +clambered up the steps as well as she could with her wet clothes hanging +about her, and went in with her new friend, who introduced her as a +young lady in distress he had taken the liberty to bring home. + +"Well, I never!" exclaimed the woman Flora had seen at the window. "Did +you rain down?" + +"I did," said Flora. + +"And who do you belong to anyhow?" + +"Belong to mamma, and I want to go home, if you please." + +"Jack?" + +"What is it, old woman?" + +"I can't make it out. Come here." + +Jack, who was in the pantry eating his supper, came in with his mouth +full. Flora knew him at once. It was Jack Midnight; but he did not +recognize her till she cried, "Oh, I am so glad!" + +"Well, if it ain't the little miss!" said Jack. "Whatever have you been +a-doing?" + +"What little miss?" queried the woman. + +"Mr. Lee's little miss. She belongs to the white cottage." + +"You don't say!" + +"Appears like quality folks, don't she?" + +"Set right up and dry yourself off a bit," said the woman, bustling +about to make Flora comfortable; "you are as wet as a drowned rat. Have +you had your supper?" + +"No," said Flora. "Want to go now." + +"Take a bite first," said Jack, offering a piece of his bread and +butter. + +But Flora would not eat, and she would not sit by the fire; she stood +with her arms round the dog's neck, and waited for Jack to carry her to +mamma. When she refused the bread, Jack remembered that Towzer was +hungry and gave it to him; but it was a very light meal for Towzer, and +Flora whispered to him that he should have a whole supper when she got +to mamma: and her friend wagged his tail as if he should enjoy that very +much. When Jack got ready to go, the dog was ready too. Jack took the +poor child in his arms, and Towzer trotted by his side. There was quite +a pool of water where Flora had been standing, which had dripped from +her wet clothes. + +"Well!" said Jack. "If you ain't a soppy bundle! Where _have_ you been?" + +"Been to ride," said Flora. "In a blue cart with Mr. Podge." + +"Run away?" + +"No. Got lost." + +"And Towzer found you." + +"He did." + +She reached over and patted Towzer's cold nose. + +"He is a good dog. I like him." + +Then out of gratitude to Jack, who was carrying her in his arms, she +added, "I like you too." + +"You can sing more than one tune, can't you?" said Jack, laughing. +"Which do you like most now, me or Towzer?" + +"Towzer, a little bit; because he _is_ a dog, you know, and you are a +boy." + +"A bad boy." + +"Not a bad boy." + +Flora had suddenly changed her mind; and when Jack opened the big gate +and she had found her dear old home once more, she actually kissed his +grimy face and said she should "'member him long as she lived." + +What a commotion he created by walking in, with Flora clinging to his +neck! Charley was the first to cry out, "There she is!" and everybody +flocked to hear all about it. But Flora crept into mamma's lap and had +not a word to say, and all that Jack knew was told in a few words. + +"My dog picked her up somewhere and fetched her home," and then Flora +asked for Towzer, who had been shut out, and Charley went out and +invited him in. Inquiries had been made in all directions; but no one +could give any clue to Flora, and papa had gone to the town crier with a +"Lost" notice, describing the little girl and the dress she wore when +she left her home. Bertie was sent after him with all despatch, and Amy +ran over to relieve the anxious heart of Grandma. The little pet was +found, and she had been guided to a place of safety by Jack Midnight's +dog! They could not praise him enough. They had never noticed him +before, because he belonged to Jack; but now, both Jack and his dog were +in high favor. + +Charley declared to Bertie, afterwards, that there was no longer a lump +in his throat. He had swallowed the rooster. While mamma was making her +little girl dry and warm, Towzer was being feasted in the kitchen, and +for the first time since he was a puppy he had what Flora called "a +whole supper." He was generally put off with a few scraps or a crust; +but to-night he had all that he could eat, and he was not bashful about +having his plate re-filled or backward in asking for more. Jack +protested against such a waste. There was "enough to victual him a +week," he said; "the brute never would know when he was full." But +Charley was determined to give him a chance to know, and at last he +poked over a dainty morsel with his cold nose, left it, went back to +it, left it again, unable to clear his plate. + +"Lost his appetite," said Bertie; but Amy said he was a sensible dog and +left the last piece for manners' sake, which was probably true. After +his hearty meal, Towzer made himself at home, and laid down before the +fire with his shaggy head upon his paws, as if he had been used to high +living from puppyhood. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +HAPPY TOWZER. + + +Towzer lay on the warm hearth and blinked at the fire, while his thick +coat was drying. + +"I tell you what it is," said Bertie; "if there is any virtue in good +living, I mean to put a streak of fat on that fellow's bones." + +"You can't do it," returned Jack. "I have been a-working on him these +two years. He is one of your lean kind." + +"I intend to try it, to pay for his kindness to Flora." + +"How would it do to plaster him all over with beef steak?" queried +Charley. + +"That is my plan," said Bertie. "What do you think of it, my dog?" + +He thought it the best piece of news he had ever heard, and he left his +warm, corner to thank Bertie in his dumb but eloquent way. He looked up +into Bertie's face and wagged his tail, and said as plainly as a dog +could say, that he was grateful. Mamma exchanged the blue dress for a +flannel wrapper. It never could be called pretty again. Then she brushed +out the wet curls and chafed the rosy feet with her own warm hands. +Under such treatment, Flora began to revive. + +"Going to be a good girl," she said, gratefully. + +"And mind mamma?" + +"I will. Never open the big gate again." + +"Did you open it?" + +"I did. Flora is hungry." + +How happy she was, sitting on papa's knee with a bowl of bread and milk +in her lap! + +When Amy brought it, she grasped it eagerly with both fat hands and took +a long, deep draught. + +"The little pet is nearly starved," said Amy. + +"The little pet will never forget this day," said papa; "she has had a +hard lesson." + +After she had eaten all the bread and milk, Jack and Towzer were brought +in to say good night; and Towzer poked his nose against the rosy feet, +to make sure that they were no longer cold and wet, and rested his head +for a moment upon papa's knee. + +"Come again," said Flora. + +"He will be a-fetching up here every other thing," said Jack. "You +needn't bother about asking of him. All is, if he gets sassy you must +kick him out." + +"I should like to see anybody kick that dog when I am round," said +Charley, doubling up his fist and looking warlike. "He would find that +he had got his match." + +"We will shake hands on that," said Bertie. Which they did quite +solemnly. + +And then they shook hands with Jack, and Towzer went back to have more +last words with Flora, and a parting embrace: and after they were gone +Flora was so drowsy, that she could not tell about her ride in the soap +man's little blue cart, her head drooped upon papa's shoulder, and her +eyelids were very heavy. + +"She has not said her prayer," observed Bertie, who hoped she would keep +awake long enough to tell the story of her adventure. + +"Try," said Charley. + +"Yes, darling, try," urged Bertie. + +But Flora was too far gone even to try; so mamma laid her gently down in +her own comfortable bed, where the rain and the wind could not disturb +her slumbers, and lovingly stroked the fair hair and the soft cheek. +She was very thankful that her little daughter was safe once more under +the dear home roof. But Flora thought she was lying out under the old +trees, and in her dreams could smell the sweet grass and the fresh +earth, and once she laughed aloud in her sleep; she was running away +from the rain and from the night. + +When Charley and Bertie went home it was still raining fast. But they +had not far to go. They lived in the new brown cottage over the way, you +will remember, that was built to take the place of their old home, +destroyed by fire. When they were going down the steps, Charley struck +some object with his foot. "Holloa!" he said, and Bertie asked "What +now?" + +"I have run against a snag," said Charley. + +"Where away?" + +"Down here next the bottom step. I have sent something flying." + +"I don't see anything," said Bertie, groping about in the dark. "It +can't be good for much, if it has been out in this shower. Where did she +land?" + +"Somewhere in the path. I should say you could not go far wrong, if you +were to follow your nose." + +"Indeed!" + +"It is precious damp." + +"Awful!" said Bertie. "I cannot bear to think of Flora wandering round +in such a storm." + +"It was rather rough on the Baby Pitcher," asserted Charley. + +"It is bad enough to be lost in fair weather with daylight before you." + +"I believe you. What is this?" + +Bertie had stumbled upon the object. + +"That must be the article," said Charley. "Bring it to the light." + +They carried it into the hall and threw it upon a mat, for it was +dripping, and Charley turned it over with his foot. + +"What do you make of it?" queried Bertie. + +"It is the black baby," said Charley. + +"Or her remains?" + +"Yes, there isn't much left of her." + +"It does not look much like Dinah, and that is a fact." + +"She is pretty well used up, all but one eye. That looks natural." + +"Yes," said Bertie, "very. Can't she be brought round?" + +"I am afraid not. One sound eye isn't enough to build on." + +"What a pity!" said Bertie. "If she cannot be patched up what are we +going to do?" + +Charley shook his head. + +"We must keep it from Flora." + +"Yes." + +"We will hide it." + +"Where?" + +"Anywhere so that Flora may never find it." + +"Good!" said Charley. "We will hide it, and she will think her baby has +turned into a blackbird and flown away." + +So they carried the black baby home with them, and Flora never saw her +again. But they saved the blue glass button; it would do for an eye if +Grandma should chance to make another Dinah. + +What had become of Dinah was a wonder. Flora sought her first in the +library, where she had left her sleeping, then in every place she could +think of; but the baby was gone; there was not a trace of it anywhere. +And the perfumery was gone too. Flora was not long in making that +discovery, and she felt worse about the perfumery than she did about +Dinah. She knew that was lost when she put her hand in the pocket of her +blue dress, but she did not give up Dinah for a long, long time. In fact +she never felt certain that the black baby would not return to her. If +she had gone to be a blackbird, as Charley suggested, why, she might be +coming back some day. Perhaps she would get tired of being a bird, or +she might break a wing as the robin had done, and if she did, she should +never get another chance to fly away. + +Grandma did not make another Dinah. It would have been a new one, and +could never take the place of the old; and as Flora was so hopeful, +Grandma thought she would be happier in looking forward to the return of +her long-tried friend than she could ever be with a new favorite. But +Dinah's place was not long vacant. Towzer fitted into it quite +naturally, and, as he was in many respects a more pleasant companion, +Flora did not miss the black baby as she otherwise would have done. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +FLORA NEVER OPENS THE BIG GATE. + + +Flora seemed to be none of the worse for her perilous adventure. After a +refreshing sleep, she awoke happy and bright, not the least like the +miserable child of the night before. And indeed, she could not remember +how miserable she had been. When she tried to think how cold and wet and +lonely it was out there in the night, she could not; for now it was no +longer cold; the sun was shining, and there was no more darkness. Papa +had said she would never forget that day; she had almost forgotten it +already. So hard is it to realize our perils, when we look back upon +them. But there was the blue dress that never could be worn again, and +the water-soaked garden hat. The sight of these brought back a momentary +feeling of loneliness, and when she looked out upon the pleasant +morning, there was Jack Midnight's dog, with his nose between the bars +of the big gate. It was really true, then, the groping about in the +dark, and all the rest; and Towzer had not forgotten yet. When Flora +appeared at the window, he dropped his ears and turned sadly away. He +was looking for his friend of the night before, the little girl that +clung so closely around his neck, and begged him to take her to mamma. +He did not know Flora. But when she called to him, he answered with a +joyful cry. He knew the voice. + +"Keep away from the big gate," she said, warningly. "Must not open +that." + +"Bow-wow!" said Towser; "I don't care a straw for the big gate. I would +jump over it if I was younger, and I would squeeze myself through the +bars if the space was only wide enough. Bow-wow, who cares for the big +gate?" + +"Go round the other side," said Flora, "and I will let you in." + +Towzer wagged his tail, and started off, as if he meant to go round, but +he was only making believe. He was back again in a moment, dancing about +like a young puppy. You would never have supposed him to be the old, +sedate dog that he was. + +"What makes you so frisky," asked Flora. + +"Bow-wow," said he. "Cannot a poor old cur be frisky when he is happy?" + +He was happy, because a stream of sunshine had struggled into his sober +life. It promised him friends and kind words, and that which he needed +most of all,--a streak of fat to cover his bare bones. Flora said they +were "nice, fat bones;" she called them fat because they were so large; +and indeed they were sadly large and prominent. Bertie's plaster proved +to be the proper remedy. + +Under its influence the bones gradually disappeared, and, according to +Flora's theory, became leaner and smaller. Jack declared that the way +that dog was a picking up, beat all nature! Flora never admitted Towzer +at the big gate, and he very soon learned to go round. It was the big +gate that opened the way to Flora's troubles, and she had a wholesome +fear of it in consequence. + +"Never open it again," she said, when she had finished the story of her +trials. + +And she never did, without permission. The little blue cart and the +limping horse sometimes passed, and, although the soap man was always on +the lookout, he never again found Flora waiting to take a ride. She did +not forget what mamma told her: "Ladies do not ride in carts, and they +never ask to ride with strangers. Little girls cannot be expected to +_do_ right always; but good children always _try_ to do right." + +"I am glad I did not see you riding with the soap man," said Amy. "I +should have felt ashamed of my little sister." + +"She would have come off that box in a hurry if I had been anywhere +about," added Charley, in a threatening tone. + +That stirred up the Baby Pitcher. + +"Wouldn't either," she answered, tartly. + +Charley tossed his head in a provoking way, that made Bertie say +"Don't!" + +"I shall do so again," said Flora. + +"I wouldn't," said Bertie. + +"Wouldn't you, truly?" + +"No," answered Bertie, seriously, "not if I were a little girl." + +"Then I won't, and Dinah won't. Oh! She has gone to be a blackbird--I +forgot." + +Amy kissed her little sister and talked to her in a gentle, soothing +manner, that smoothed out all the wrinkles. And then Charley felt sorry +he had roused the "Leo spunk," and he told such funny stories that Flora +felt very placid and comfortable, and quite at peace with everybody. In +losing the perfumery she lost a treasure, and for that she was sorry; +but she was glad to be restored to all her social rights and privileges. +She was no longer obliged to stand out on the door-stone when she talked +to Grandma, for the odor of musk was dying out. Grandma's doors were +thrown wide open, and no one was more welcome than the Baby Pitcher. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baby Pitcher's Trials, by Mrs. May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BABY PITCHER'S TRIALS *** + +***** This file should be named 19390.txt or 19390.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/9/19390/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Janet Blenkinship +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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