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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/20112-h.zip b/20112-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a07f86 --- /dev/null +++ b/20112-h.zip diff --git a/20112-h/20112-h.htm b/20112-h/20112-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..11a2d39 --- /dev/null +++ b/20112-h/20112-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2354 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.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 Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land and other Stories, by Ellis Towne, Sophie May and Ella Farman</title> +<style type="text/css"> + + /* original pagenumbers: not printed, optional screen display */ + @media print { + samp.pgmark { + font-size: xx-small; text-align: left; + text-indent:0; font-style: normal; + margin: 0;padding: .05em 0.5em; + position: absolute; left: 1%; + display: none; visibility: hidden; } + pre {font-size: 10pt; margin-left:-10%; margin-right: -10%;} + } + @media screen { + /* depending on your browser, change */ + /* "none" to "inline" to unhide the numbers */ + /* which should appear in the left margin */ + samp.pgmark { border-top: thin solid silver; + border-bottom: thin solid silver; + font-size: xx-small; text-align: left; + text-indent:0; font-style: normal; + margin: 0;padding: .05em 0.5em; + position: absolute; left: 1%; + display: none; } + } + + /* We deliberately use lengths/dimensions which are */ + /* relative (to window or font size) so that we don't */ + /* impose too much on people's defaults */ + + body {font-size: large; /* well it is a kid's book! */ + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + div.main {max-width: 30em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; clear: both;} /* for comfortable reading */ + p {text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-top: .1em; + font-size: large; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .05em; } + p.drop {text-indent: 0; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: large; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .05em; } + p.firstword {text-indent: 0; + margin-top: .1em; + font-size: large; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .05em; } + p.firstword span {font-style: normal; + font-variant: small-caps; } + p.firstword:first-letter {font-size: 275%; float: left; line-height: 80%; padding-right: 4px;} + + span.roxy {float: right; margin-right: 1.5em;} + .tb {margin-top: 2em;} + + a:link {color: blue; background-color: inherit; + text-decoration:none;} + a:visited {color: blue; background-color: inherit; + text-decoration:none;} + a:hover {color: red; background-color: inherit;} + .illusctr a:link img, .illusctr a:visited img {border: 2px solid white;} + .illusctr a:hover img {border: 2px solid red;} + p.illusctr {text-indent: 0; + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 3em; + font-size: large; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: small-caps; + line-height: 2em;} + .newchap {page-break-before: always; } + + /* the lone table is centred */ + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; + margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border-spacing: 0.5em 0.2em; } + td {font-size: smaller; text-align: left; } + td.cntr {text-align: center;} + td.rt {text-align: right; width: 6em;} + + blockquote {clear: both; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; } + + /* headings */ + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; font-family: "Goudy", "Goudy Old Style", serif;} + h1.tp {word-spacing: 1.5em; letter-spacing: 0.75em; font-size: 320%; clear: both; page-break-before: always;} + h2.tp {margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; font-size: 240%; + word-spacing: 0.75em; letter-spacing: 0.05em; } + h2.chap {margin-top: 2.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; clear: both; + word-spacing: 0.75em; letter-spacing: 0.05em; font-size: 180%; } + h3.tp {margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-size: x-large; + word-spacing: 1em; letter-spacing: 0.5em; } + h4.byline {font-size: small; + font-weight: normal; + margin-top: 4em; } + h4.tp {font-size: 180%;} + h5.tp {font-size: 150%; font-weight: normal; + word-spacing: 1em; letter-spacing: -0.05em;} + + /* for marking off the boilerplate */ + hr.pg {width: 100%; + height: 5px; + margin-top: 15px; + margin-bottom: 15px; } + + /* for recording typos etc */ + ins.transcriber {text-decoration: none; + border-bottom: thin dotted silver; } + + /* for decorated initials and book covers */ + img.initial {float: left; clear: left; margin: 0 0 0 0; } + img.cover {float: left; margin: 82px 0 0 0;} + img.back {float: right; margin: 82px 0 0 0;} + + /* for small caps */ + .smcap {font-variant:small-caps;} + .allsc {text-transform:lowercase; font-variant:small-caps;} + + /* for transcriber's notes at the end */ + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-top: 3em;} + .tnote p {text-indent: 0; margin-top: .5em; font-size: medium;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land +and other Stories by Ellis Towne, Sophie May and Ella Farman + +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: Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land and other Stories + +Author: Ellis Towne, Sophie May and Ella Farman + +Release Date: May 4, 2007 [EBook #20112] +[This file was first posted on December 15, 2006] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILL'S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS LAND *** + + + + +Produced by David Newman, David Wilson, Chuck Greif, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<hr class="pg" noshade="noshade" /> + + +<a name="png.001" id="png.001"></a><samp class="pgmark">001</samp> +<p class="illusctr newchap"><a name="frontcover" id="frontcover" href="images/frontcover1.jpg" + target="_blank" ><img class="cover" src="images/frontcover-mini.jpg" + width="160" height="261" alt="Front cover: Lill's Travels" + /></a><a name="backcover" id="backcover" href="images/backcover1.jpg" + target="_blank" ><img class="back" src="images/backcover-mini.jpg" + width="160" height="261" alt="Back cover" + /></a><a name="I001" id="I001" href="images/img001.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img001-sml.png" width="282" height="425" + alt="Uncaptioned frontispiece illustration" /></a></p> +<a name="png.002" id="png.002"></a><samp class="pgmark">002</samp> + +<h1 class="tp">LILL’S TRAVELS</h1> +<h3 class="tp">IN SANTA CLAUS LAND.</h3> + +<h2 class="tp">AND OTHER STORIES.</h2> + +<h4 class="byline">BY</h4> +<h5 class="tp">ELLIS TOWNE, SOPHIE MAY AND ELLA FARMAN.</h5> + +<p class="illusctr"><a name="I002" id="I002" href="images/img002.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img002-sml.png" width="312" height="330" + alt="Uncaptioned title page illustration" /></a> +</p> + +<h4 class="tp">BOSTON: <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber's note: the original book was published by +D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, +FRANKLIN ST., CORNER OF HAWLEY.">1878.</ins></h4> + +<!-- <a name="png.003" id="png.003"></a><samp class="pgmark">003</samp> --> + +<div class="main"> +<a name="png.004" id="png.004"></a><samp class="pgmark">004</samp> +<p class="illusctr newchap"><img src="images/deco025.png" width="381" height="205" + alt="Printer's decoration" /> +</p> + + + + +<h2 class="chap">LILL’S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS +LAND.</h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>Effie</span> had been playing with her dolls one cold +December morning, and Lill had been reading, +until both were tired. But it stormed too hard to +go out, and, as Mrs. Pelerine had said they need not +do anything for two hours, their little jaws might +have been dislocated by yawning before they would +as much as pick up a pin. Presently Lill said, “Effie, +shall I tell you a story.”</p> + +<p>“O yes! do!” said Effie, and she climbed up by +Lill in the large rocking-chair in front of the grate. +She kept very still, for she knew Lill’s stories were +<a name="png.005" id="png.005"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>005</samp>not to be interrupted by a sound, or even a motion. +The first thing Lill did was to fix her eyes on the +fire, and rock backward and forward quite hard for +a little while, and then she said, “Now I am going +to tell you about my <i>thought travels</i>, and they are +apt to be a little queerer, but O! ever so much +nicer, than the other kind!”</p> + +<p>As Lill’s stories usually had a formal introduction +she began: “Once upon a time, when I was +taking a walk through the great field beyond the +orchard, I went way on, ’round where the path turns +behind the hill. And after I had walked a little way, +I came to a high wall—built right up into the sky. +At first I thought I had discovered the ‘ends of the +earth,’ or perhaps I had somehow come to the great +wall of China. But after walking a long way I came +to a large gate, and over it was printed in beautiful +gold letters, ‘<span class="smcap">Santa Claus Land</span>,’ and the letters +were large enough for a baby to read!”</p> + +<p>How large that might be Lill did not stop to +explain.</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<a name="I006" id="I006" href="images/img006.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img006-sml.png" width="228" height="367" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" + /></a></p> + +<p>“But the gate was shut tight,” she continued, “and +though I knocked and knocked and knocked, as hard +as I could, nobody came to open it. I was dreadfully +disappointed, because I felt as if Santa Claus must +live here all of the year except when he went out to +<!-- <a name="png.006" id="png.006"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>006</samp><a name="png.007" id="png.007"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>007</samp> +[Blank Page] + --><a name="png.008" id="png.008"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>008</samp>pay Christmas visits, and it would be so lovely to see +him in his own home, you know. But what was I to +do? The gate was entirely too high to climb over, +and there wasn’t even a crack to peek through!”</p> + +<p>Here Lill paused, and Effie drew a long breath, +and looked greatly disappointed. Then Lill went +on:</p> + +<p>“But you see, as I was poking about, I pressed a +bell-spring, and in a moment—jingle, jingle, jingle, +the bells went ringing far and near, with such a merry +sound as was never heard before. While they were +still ringing the gate slowly opened and I walked in. +I didn’t even stop to inquire if Santa Claus was at +home, for I forgot all about myself and my manners, +it was so lovely. First there was a small paved square +like a court; it was surrounded by rows and rows of +dark green trees, with several avenues opening between +them.</p> + +<p>“In the centre of the court was a beautiful marble +fountain, with streams of sugar plums and bon-bons +tumbling out of it. Funny-looking little men were +filling cornucopias at the fountain, and pretty little +barefoot children, with chubby hands and dimpled +shoulders, took them as soon as they were filled, and +ran off with them. They were all too much occupied +to speak to me, but as I came up to the fountain one +<a name="png.009" id="png.009"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>009</samp>of the funny little fellows gave me a cornucopia, and +I marched on with the babies.</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<a name="I010" id="I010" href="images/img010.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img010-sml.png" width="436" height="248" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" /></a></p> + +<p>“We went down one of the avenues, which would +have been very dark only it was splendidly lighted +up with Christmas candles. I saw the babies were +slyly eating a candy or two, so I tasted mine, and +they were delicious—the real Christmas kind. After +we had gone a little way, the trees were smaller and +not so close together, and here there were other +funny little fellows who were climbing up on ladders +and tying toys and bon-bons to the trees. The children +stopped and delivered their packages, but I +walked on, for there was something in the distance +that I was curious to see. I could see that it was a +large garden, that looked as if it might be well cared +for, and had many things growing in it. But even in +the distance it didn’t look natural, and when I reached +it I found it was a very uncommon kind of a garden +indeed. I could scarcely believe my eyes, but there +were dolls and donkeys and drays and cars and +croquet coming up in long, straight rows, and ever so +many other things beside. In one place the wooden +dolls had only just started; their funny little heads +were just above ground, and I thought they looked +very much surprised at their surroundings. Farther +on were china dolls, that looked quite grown up, and +<!-- <a name="png.010" id="png.010"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>010</samp><a name="png.011" id="png.011"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>011</samp>[Blank Page] + --><a name="png.012" id="png.012"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>012</samp>I suppose were ready to pull; and a gardener was +hoeing a row of soldiers that didn’t look in a very +healthy condition, or as if they had done very well.</p> + +<p>“The gardener looked familiar, I thought, and as I +approached him he stopped work and, leaning on his +hoe he said, ‘How do you do, Lilian? I am very +glad to see you.’</p> + +<p>“The moment he raised his face I knew it was +Santa Claus, for he looked exactly like the portrait +we have of him. You can easily believe I was glad +then! I ran and put both of my hands in his, fairly +shouting that I was so glad to find him.</p> + +<p>“He laughed and said:</p> + +<p>“‘Why, I am generally to be found here or hereabouts, +for I work in the grounds every day.’</p> + +<p>“And I laughed too, because his laugh sounded so +funny; like the brook going over stones, and the wind +up in the trees. Two or three times, when I thought +he had done he would burst out again, laughing the +vowels in this way: ‘Ha, ha, ha, ha! He, he, he, he, +he! Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi! Ho, ho, ho, h-o-oo!’”</p> + +<p>Lill did it very well, and Effie laughed till the tears +came to her eyes; and she could quite believe Lill +when she said, “It grew to be so funny that I couldn’t +stand, but fell over into one of the little chairs that +were growing in a bed just beyond the soldiers.<a + name="png.013" id="png.013"></a><samp class="pgmark">013</samp></p> + +<p>“When Santa Claus saw that he stopped suddenly, +saying:</p> + +<p>“‘There, that will do. I take a hearty laugh every +day, for the sake of digestion.’</p> + +<p>“Then he added, in a whisper, ‘That is the reason +I live so long and don’t grow old. I’ve been the +same age ever since the chroniclers began to take +notes, and those who are best able to judge think I’ll +continue to be this way for about one thousand eight +hundred and seventy-six years longer,—they probably +took a new observation at the Centennial, and +they know exactly.’</p> + +<p>“I was greatly delighted to hear this, and I told +him so. He nodded and winked and said it was ‘all +right,’ and then asked if I’d like to see the place. I +said I would, so he threw down the hoe with a sigh, +saying, ‘I don’t believe I shall have more than half a +crop of soldiers this season. They came up well, but +the arms and legs seem to be weak. When I get to +town I’ll have to send out some girls with glue pots, +to stick them fast.’</p> + +<p>“The town was at some distance, and our path +took us by flower-beds where some exquisite little +toys were growing, and a hot-bed where new varieties +were being prop—<i>propagated</i>. Pretty soon we came to +a plantation of young trees, with rattles, and rubber +<a name="png.014" id="png.014"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>014</samp>balls, and ivory rings growing on the branches, and as +we went past they rang and bounded about in the +merriest sort of a way.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s a nice growth,’ said Santa Claus, and it +<i>was</i> a nice growth for babies; but just beyond I saw +something so perfectly splendid that I didn’t care +about the plantation.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Lill impressively, seeing that Effie was +sufficiently expectant, “It was a lovely grove. The +trees were large, with long <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'dooping'">drooping</ins> branches, and the +branches were just loaded with dolls’ clothes. There +were elegant silk dresses, with lovely sashes of every +color—”</p> + +<p>Just here Effie couldn’t help saying “O!” for she +had a weakness for sashes. Lill looked stern, and +put a warning hand over her mouth, and went on.</p> + +<p>“There was everything that the most fashionable +doll could want, growing in the greatest profusion. +Some of the clothes had fallen, and there were funny-looking +girls picking them up, and packing them in +trunks and boxes. ‘These are all ripe,’ said Santa +Claus, stopping to shake a tree, and the clothes came +tumbling down so fast that the workers were busier +than ever. The grove was on a hill, so that we had a +beautiful view of the country. First there was a park +filled with reindeer, and beyond that was the town, +<a name="png.015" id="png.015"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>015</samp>and at one side a large farm-yard filled with animals +of all sorts.</p> + +<p>“But as Santa Claus seemed in a hurry I did not +stop long to look. Our path led through the park, +and we stopped to call ‘Prancer’ and ‘Dancer’ and +‘Donder’ and ‘Blitzen,’ and Santa Claus fed them with +lumps of sugar from his pocket. He pointed out +‘Comet’ and ‘Cupid’ in a distant part of the +park; ‘Dasher’ and ‘Vixen’ were nowhere to be +seen.</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<a name="I016" id="I016" href="images/img016.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img016-sml.png" width="430" height="400" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" /></a></p> + +<p>“Here I found most of the houses were Swiss +cottages, but there were some fine churches and public +buildings, all of beautifully illustrated building blocks, +and we stopped for a moment at a long depot, in +which a locomotive was just <i>smashing up</i>.</p> + +<p>“Santa Claus’ house stood in the middle of the +town. It was an old-fashioned looking house, very +broad and low, with an enormous chimney. There +was a wide step in front of the door, shaded by a +fig-tree and grape-vine, and morning-glories and +scarlet beans clambered by the side of the latticed +windows; and there were great round rose-bushes, +with great, round roses, on either side of the walk +leading to the door.”</p> + +<p>“O! it must have smelled like a party,” said Effie, +and then subsided, as she remembered that she was +interrupting.<!-- +<a name="png.016" id="png.016"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>016</samp><a name="png.017" id="png.017"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>017</samp>[Blank Page] + --><a name="png.018" id="png.018"></a><samp class="pgmark">018</samp></p> + +<p>“Inside, the house was just cozy and comfortable, a +real grandfatherly sort of a place. A big chair was +drawn up in front of the window, and a big book was +open on a table in front of the chair. A great pack +half made up was on the floor, and Santa Claus +stopped to add a few things from his pocket. Then he +went to the kitchen, and brought me a lunch of milk +and strawberries and cookies, for he said I must be +tired after my long walk.</p> + +<p>“After I had rested a little while, he said if I liked +I might go with him to the observatory. But just as +we were starting a funny little fellow stopped at the +door with a wheelbarrow full of boxes of dishes. +After Santa Claus had taken the boxes out and put +them in the pack he said slowly,—</p> + +<p>“‘Let me see!’</p> + +<p>“He laid his finger beside his nose as he said it, +and looked at me attentively, as if I were a sum in +addition, and he was adding me up. I guess I must +have come out right, for he looked satisfied, and said +I’d better go to the mine first, and then join him in +the observatory. Now I am afraid he was not exactly +polite not to go with me himself,” added Lill, gravely, +“but then he apologized by saying he had some work +to do. So I followed the little fellow with the wheelbarrow, +and we soon came to what looked like the +entrance of a cave, but I suppose it was the mine. I +<a name="png.019" id="png.019"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>019</samp>followed my guide to the interior without stopping to +look at the boxes and piles of dishes outside. Here +I found other funny little people, busily at work with +picks and shovels, taking out wooden dishes from the +bottom of the cave, and china and glass from the top +and sides, for the dishes hung down just like stalactites +in Mammoth Cave.”</p> + +<p>Here Lill opened the book she had been reading, +and showed Effie a picture of the stalactites.</p> + +<p>“It was so curious and so pretty that I should have +remained longer,” said Lill, “only I remembered the +observatory and Santa Claus.</p> + +<p>“When I went outside I heard his voice calling +out, ‘Lilian! Lilian!’ It sounded a great way off, +and yet somehow it seemed to fill the air just as the +wind does. I only had to look for a moment, for very +near by was a high tower. I wonder I did not see +it before; but in these queer countries you are sure +to see something new every time you look about. +Santa Claus was standing up at a window near the +top, and I ran to the entrance and commenced climbing +the stairs. It was a long journey, and I was +quite out of breath when I came to the end of it. But +here there was such a cozy, luxurious little room, full +of stuffed chairs and lounges, bird cages and flowers +in the windows, and pictures on the wall, that it was +<a name="png.020" id="png.020"></a><samp class="pgmark"> +020</samp>delightful to rest. There was a lady sitting by a +golden desk, writing in a large book, and Santa Claus +was looking through a great telescope, and every +once in a while he stopped and put his ear to a +large speaking-tube. While I was resting he went on +with his observations.</p> + +<p>“Presently he said to the lady, ‘Put down a good +mark for Sarah Buttermilk. I see she is trying to conquer +her quick temper.’</p> + +<p>“‘Two bad ones for Isaac Clappertongue; he’ll +drive his mother to the insane asylum yet.’</p> + +<p>“‘Bad ones all around for the Crossley children,—they +quarrel too much.’</p> + +<p>“‘A good one for Harry and Alice Pleasure, they +are quick to mind.’</p> + +<p>“‘And give Ruth Olive ten, for she is a peacemaker.’”</p> + +<p>Just then he happened to look at me and saw I was +rested, so he politely asked what I thought of the +country. I said it was magnificent. He said he was +sorry I didn’t stop in the green-house, where he had +wax dolls and other delicate things growing. I was +very sorry about that, and then I said I thought he +must be very happy to own so many delightful things.</p> + +<p>“‘Of course I’m happy,’ said Santa Claus, and +then he sighed. ‘But it is an awful responsibility to +<a name="png.021" id="png.021"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>021</samp>reward so many children according to their deserts. +For I take these observations every day, and I know +who is good and who is bad.’</p> + +<p>“I was glad he told me about this, and now, if he +would only tell me what time of day he took the +observations, I would have obtained really valuable +information. So I stood up and made my best courtesy +and said,—</p> + +<p>“‘Please, sir, would you tell me what time of day +you usually look?’</p> + +<p>“‘O,’ he answered, carelessly, ‘any time from +seven in the morning till ten at night. I am not a +bit particular about time. I often go without my own +meals in order to make a record of table manners. +For instance: last evening I saw you turn your spoon +over in your mouth, and that’s very unmannerly for a +girl nearly fourteen.’</p> + +<p>“‘O, I didn’t know <i>you</i> were looking,’ said I, very +much ashamed; ‘and I’ll never do it again,’ I +promised.</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<a name="I022a" id="I022a" href="images/img022a.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img022a-sml.png" width="389" height="275" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" /></a><br /> +<a name="I022b" id="I022b" href="images/img022b.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img022b-sml.png" width="410" height="264" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" /></a></p> + +<p>“Then he said I might look through the telescope, +and I looked right down into our house. There was +mother very busy and very tired, and all of the +children teasing. It was queer, for I was there, too, +and the <i>bad-est</i> of any. Pretty soon I ran to a quiet +corner with a book, and in a few minutes mamma had +<!-- <a name="png.022" id="png.022"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>022</samp><a name="png.023" id="png.023"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>023</samp>[Blank Page] + --><a name="png.024" id="png.024"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>024</samp>to leave her work and call, ‘Lilian, Lilian, it’s time +for you to practise.’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, mamma,’ I answered, ‘I’ll come right away.’</p> + +<p>“As soon as I said this Santa Claus whistled for +‘Comet’ and ‘Cupid,’ and they came tearing up the +tower. He put me in a tiny sleigh, and away we +went, over great snow-banks of clouds, and before I +had time to think I was landed in the big chair, and +mamma was calling ‘Lilian, Lilian, it’s time for you to +practise,’ just as she is doing now, and I must go.”</p> + +<p>So Lill answered, “Yes, mamma,” and ran to the +piano.</p> + +<p>Effie sank back in the chair to think. She wished +Lill had found out how many black marks she had, +and whether that lady was Mrs. Santa Claus—and +had, in fact, obtained more accurate information about +many things.</p> + +<p>But when she asked about some of them <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber's note: original has 'after wards'">afterwards</ins>, +Lill said she didn’t know, for the next time +she had traveled in that direction she found <span class="smcap">Santa +Claus Land</span> had moved.<a + name="png.025" id="png.025"></a><samp class="pgmark">025</samp></p> + +<p class="illusctr newchap"> +<img src="images/deco025.png" width="381" height="205" + alt="Printer's decoration" /></p> + + + + +<h2 class="chap">WHAT HAPPENED TO KATHIE +AND LU.</h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>It</span> was a very great misfortune, and it must have +been a sad affliction to the friends of the two children, +for both were once pretty and charming.</p> + +<p>It came about in this way.</p> + +<p>Little Winnie Tennyson—she wasn’t the daughter +of Mr. Alfred Tennyson, the poet-laureate of England, +but <i>was</i> as sweet as any one of that gentleman’s +poems—had been to the city; and she had brought +home so many wondrous improvements that her two +little bosom friends, Lu Medway and Kathie Dysart, +were almost struck dumb to behold and to hear what +Winnie said and what Winnie had.<a + name="png.026" id="png.026"></a><samp class="pgmark">026</samp></p> + +<p>For one thing, there were some wooden blocks, all +fluted and grooved, and Winnie could heat these +blocks in the oven, and wet her hair, and lay it +between them, and O! how satin-smooth the waves +would be,—hair-pin-crimps and braid-crimps were +nothing to this new and scientific way.</p> + +<p>Winnie also made it a matter of pride to display +her overskirts. These were arranged with ever so +many tapes on the inside, and would readily tie up +into the most ravishing bunches and puffs—how Lu +and Kathie, wee-est mites of women though they +were, did envy Winnie her tapes! Their mammas +didn’t know how to loop a dress—witness their little +skirts pinned back into what Kathie called a “wopse.”</p> + +<p>She also had brought some tiny parlor skates, and, +withal, many airs and graces which her two young-lady +aunties had taught her, among others a funny +little new accent on some of her words,—the word +“pretty” in particular. And, last of all, she had +been taught to dance!</p> + +<p>“And I can show <i>you</i>,” Winnie said, eagerly, +“’cause it goes by ‘steps,’ and uncle says I take them +as pr-i-tty as Cousin Lily.”</p> + +<p>Now, in Connaut, little girls don’t dance—not <i>nice</i> +little girls, nor nice big girls either, for that matter.</p> + +<p>The dimpled mouths opened in astonishment. +“That is wicked, Winnie Ten’son, don’t you know?”<a + name="png.027" id="png.027"></a><samp class="pgmark">027</samp></p> + +<p>“O, but ’tisn’t,” said Winnie. “My aunties dance, +and their mamma, my grandmamma, was at the party +once.”</p> + +<p>“We shall tell our mothers,” said Lu. “I’ll bet +you’ve come home a proud, wicked girl, and you want +us to be as bad as you are.”</p> + +<p class="illusctr"><a name="I027" id="I027" href="images/img027.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img027-sml.png" width="339" height="311" + alt="Winnie already had her class before her." /></a><br /> +“Winnie already had her class before her.”</p> + +<p>Now Winnie was only six years old, about the same +age as her virtuous friends, and she didn’t look very +wicked. She had pink cheeks, and blue eyes, and +dimples. She stood gazing at her accusers, first at +one and then at the other.<a + name="png.028" id="png.028"></a><samp class="pgmark">028</samp></p> + +<p>“Luie,” said Kathie, gravely, “we mustn’t call +Winnie wicked till we ask our mothers if she is.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think I would,” said Mrs. Tennyson, +looking up from her sewing, her cheek flushing at the +sight of tears in her little Winnie’s gentle eyes.</p> + +<p>On the way home, they chanced to see their own +minister walking along. Lu stopped short. “Kathie,” +said she, “I know it’s awful wicked now, or else we +never should have met the minister right here. I’m +just going to tell him about Winnie.”</p> + +<p>She went up to him, Kathie following shyly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Goodhue, Winnie Ten’son is a nawful wicked +girl!”</p> + +<p>“She <i>is!</i>” said Mr. Goodhue, stopping, and looking +down into the little eager face.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, she is. She wants us to dance!”</p> + +<p>“She <i>does!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, she does. She wanted us to learn the +steps, right down in her garden this afternoon. Would +you dance, Mr. Goodhue?”</p> + +<p>“Would I? Perhaps I might, were I as little and +spry as you, and Winnie would teach me steps, and it +was down in the garden.”</p> + +<p>The little girls looked up into his face searchingly. +He walked on laughing, and they went on homeward, +to ask further advice.<a + name="png.029" id="png.029"></a><samp class="pgmark">029</samp></p> + +<p>At home, too, everyone seemed to think it a matter +for smiles, and laughed at the two tender little consciences.</p> + +<p>So they both ran back after dinner to Mrs. Tennyson’s. +But on the way Kathie said, “They let us, the +minister and ev’ry body, but if it is wicked <i>ever</i>, how +isn’t it wicked <i>now</i>?”</p> + +<p>“I s’pose ’cause we’re children,” Lu said wisely.</p> + +<p>The logical trouble thus laid, they tripped on.</p> + +<p>They were dressed in sweet pink, and their sun-bonnets +were as fresh and crisp as only the sun-bonnets +of dear little country school-girls ever can be. It was +a most merry summer day; all nature moving gladsomely +to the full music of life. The leaves were +fluttering to each other, the grasses sweeping up and +down, the bobolinks hopping by the meadow path.</p> + +<p>Their friend Winnie came out to meet them, looking +rather astonished.</p> + +<p>“We’re going to learn,” shouted Lu, “get on your +bonnet.”</p> + +<p>“But you wasn’t good to me to-day,” said Winnie, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“We didn’t da’st to be,” said Kathie, “till we’d +asked somebody that knew.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tennyson was half of the mind to call her +little daughter in; yet she felt it a pity to be less +sweet and forgiving than the child.<a + name="png.030" id="png.030"></a><samp class="pgmark">030</samp></p> + +<p>Winnie already had her class before her. “Now +you must do just as I do. You must hold your dress +back so,—not grab it, but hold it back nice, and you +must bend forward so, and you must point your slippers +so,—not stand flat.”</p> + +<p>Very graceful the little dancing-teacher looked, tip-toeing +here, gliding there, twinkling through a series +of pretty steps down the long garden walk.</p> + +<p>But the pupils! Do the best she might, sturdy +little Kathie couldn’t manage her dress. She grasped +it tightly in either fat little fist. “Mother Bunch!” +Lu giggled behind her back.</p> + +<p>Kathie’s face got very red over that. It was well +enough to be “Dumpling,”—everybody loves a dumpling; +but “Mother Bunch!” So she bounced and +shuffled a little longer, and then she said she was +going home.</p> + +<p>But Miss Lu wasn’t ready. She greatly liked the +new fun, the hopping and whirling to Winnie’s steady +“One, two, <i>three!</i> One, two, <i>three!</i>” There was a +grown-up, affected smirk on her delicate little face, at +which Mrs. Tennyson laughed every time she looked +out. I think Lu would have hopped and minced up +and down the walk until night, if Winnie’s mother +hadn’t told them it was time to go.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like her old steps,” said Kathie. They +were sitting on a daisy bank near Mr. Medway’s.<a + name="png.031" id="png.031"></a><samp class="pgmark">031</samp></p> + +<p>“Well, I do,” said Lu. “And you would, too, if you +wasn’t so chunked. You just bounced up and down.”</p> + +<p>Kathie burst out crying. “I’ll bet dancing steps <i>is</i> +wicked, for you never was so mean before in your life, +so! And you didn’t dance near so pretty as Winnie, +and you needn’t think you ever will, for you <i>never</i> +will!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I won’t, won’t I?” said Lu, teasingly.</p> + +<p>“No, you won’t. I won’t be wicked and say you +are nice, for you’re horrid.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i>’re wicked this minute, Kathie Dysart, for +<i>you</i>’re mad.”</p> + +<p>And as she laughed a naughty laugh, and as Kathie +glared back at her, then it was that that which happened +began to happen. Lu’s delicate, rosy mouth +commenced drawing up at the corners in an ugly +fashion, and her nose commenced drawing down, while +her dimpled chin thrust itself out in a taunting manner; +but the horror of it was that she couldn’t +straighten her lips, nor could she draw in her chin +when she tried.</p> + +<p>“You <i>dis’gree’ble</i> thing!” shrieked Kathie, looking +at her and feeling dreadfully, her eyebrows knotting +up like two little squirming snakes. “If I’m a +Mother Bunch, you’re a bean-pole, and you’ll be an +ugly old witch some day, and you’ll dry up and you’ll +blow away.”<a + name="png.032" id="png.032"></a><samp class="pgmark">032</samp></p> + +<p>By this time the two little pink starched sun-bonnets +fairly stood on end at each other.</p> + +<p>“Kathie Dysart, I’ll tell your Sunday-school teacher, +see if I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Tell her what? you old, <i>old</i>, <span class="allsc">OLD</span> thing!”</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<a name="I032" id="I032" href="images/img032.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img032-sml.png" width="397" height="314" + alt="They grew older and uglier each moment." /></a><br /> +“They grew older and uglier each moment.”</p> + +<p>Kathie Dysart loved her Sunday-school teacher, +and now she <i>was</i> in a rage. She couldn’t begin to +scowl as fiercely as she felt; her cheeks sunk in, her +lips drew down, her nose grew sharp and long in the +effort. And, all at once, as the children say, her face +“froze” so. Oh! it was perfectly horrid, that which +happened to the two little dears, it was indeed. They +could not possibly look away from each other, and +they grew older and uglier each moment! Why, their +<a name="png.033" id="png.033"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>033</samp>very sun-bonnets—those fresh little pink sun-bonnets—shriveled +into old women’s caps, and even in the +hearts of the poor little old crones the hardening +process was going on, a fierce fire of hate scorching the +last central drop of dew, until nothing would ever, +ever grow and bloom again.</p> + +<p>It was all over with Lu and Kathie forever and +ever.</p> + +<p class="tb"> +All this was long ago, of course—indeed, it happened +“once upon a time.” It would be difficult now +to verify each point in the account. On the contrary, +I suppose it just possible that there may be a mistake +as to the transformation of the children’s clothes—the +change of the sun-bonnets into caps, for instance.</p> + +<p>But, as a whole, I see no reason to doubt the story. +Often, and quite recently, too, I have seen little faces +in danger of a similar transformation.</p> + +<p>Where anger, envy, spite, and some others of the +ill-tempers, gain control of the nerves and muscles of +the human countenance, they pull and twitch and +knot and tie these nerves and muscles, until it is almost +impossible to recognize the face.</p> + +<p>Sometimes this change has passed off in a minute; +but at other times it has lasted for hours, and there +is <i>always</i> danger that the face will fail to recover its +<a name="png.034" id="png.034"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>034</samp>pleasantness wholly, that traces will remain, like +wrinkles in a ribbon that has been tied, and that, at +last, the transformation will be final and fatal, and the +fair child become and remain “a horrid old witch.”</p> + +<p>Of one thing we all are certain—that the most +gossiping and malicious person now living was once a +fair and innocent child; so who shall say that this +which I have related did <i>not</i> happen to Lu and +Kathie?</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<img src="images/deco034.png" width="261" height="116" + alt="Printer's decoration" /></p> + +<p class="tb"><a name="png.035" id="png.035"></a><samp class="pgmark">035</samp> </p> + +<p class="illusctr newchap"> +<img src="images/deco035.png" width="457" height="100" + alt="Printer's decoration" /></p> + + + + +<h2 class="chap">FLAXIE FRIZZLE.</h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>Her</span> name was Mary Gray, but they called her +Flaxie Frizzle. She had light curly hair, and +a curly nose. That is, her nose curled up at the end +a wee bit, just enough to make it look cunning.</p> + +<p>What kind of a child was she?</p> + +<p>Well, I don’t want to tell; but I suppose I shall +have to. She wasn’t gentle and timid and sweet like +you little darlings, oh, no! not like you. And Mrs. +Willard, who was there visiting from Boston, said she +was “dreadful.”</p> + +<p>She was always talking at the table, for one thing.</p> + +<p>“Mamma,” said she, one day, from her high chair, +“your littlest one doesn’t like fish; what makes you +cook him?”</p> + +<p>Mamma shook her head, but Flaxie wouldn’t look +<a name="png.036" id="png.036"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>036</samp>at it. Mrs. Willard was saying, “When we go to +ride this afternoon we can stop at the slate-quarry.”</p> + +<p><i>Who</i> was going to ride? And would they take the +“littlest one” too? Flaxie meant to find out.</p> + +<p class="illusctr"><a name="I036" id="I036" href="images/img036.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img036-sml.png" width="299" height="345" + alt="Flaxie Frizzle." /></a><br /> +Flaxie Frizzle.</p> + +<p>“Do you love me, mamma?” said she, beating her +mug against her red waiter.</p> + +<p>“When you are a good girl, Flaxie.”</p> + +<p>“Well, look right in my eyes, mamma. Don’t you +see I <i>are</i> a good girl? And <i>mayn’t</i> I go a-riding?”</p> + +<p>“Eat your dinner, Mary Gray, and don’t talk.”</p> + +<p>Her mother never called her Mary Gray except +when she was troublesome.</p> + +<p>“I want to tell you sumpin, mamma,” whispered +<a name="png.037" id="png.037"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>037</samp>she, bending forward and almost scalding herself +against the teapot, “I <i>won’t</i> talk; I won’t talk <i>a</i> tall.”</p> + +<p>But it was of no use. Mrs. Willard was not fond +of little girls, and Mrs. Gray would not take Flaxie; +she must stay at home with her sister Ninny.</p> + +<p>Now Ninny—or Julia—was almost ten years old, +a dear, good, patient little girl, who bore with Flaxie’s +naughtiness, and hardly ever complained. But this +afternoon, at four o’clock, her best friend, Eva Snow, +was coming, and Ninny did hope that by that time +her mamma would be at home again!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Willard rode off in the carriage; +and the moment they were gone, Flaxie began +to frisk like a wild creature.</p> + +<p>First she ran out to the gate, and screamed to a +man going by,—</p> + +<p>“How d’ye do, Mr. Man? You <i>mustn’t</i> smoke! +My mamma don’t like it!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, why <i>did</i> you do that?” said Ninny, her face +covered with blushes, as she darted after Flaxie, and +brought her into the house.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, show me your new picture-book, and +I won’t.”</p> + +<p>As long as she was looking at pictures she was out +of mischief, and Ninny turned the leaves very patiently.</p> + +<p>But soon the cat came into the room with the new +<a name="png.038" id="png.038"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>038</samp>kitten in her mouth, and then Flaxie screamed with +terror. She thought the cat was eating it up for a +mouse; but instead of that she dropped it gently on +the sofa, purring, and looking at the two little girls as +if to say,—</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it a nice baby?”</p> + +<p>Flaxie thought it was; you could see that by the +way she kissed it. But when she picked it up and +marched about with it, the old cat mewed fearfully.</p> + +<p>“Put it down,” said Ninny. “Don’t you see how +bad you make its mother feel?”</p> + +<p>“No. I’s goin’ to carry it over the bridge, and +show it to my grandma; she wants to see this kitty.”</p> + +<p>Ninny looked troubled. She hardly dared say +Flaxie must not go, for fear that would make her +want to go all the more.</p> + +<p>“What a funny spot kitty has on its face,” said she, +“white all over; with a yellow star on its forehead.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Flaxie, “I’ll wash it off.” And away +she flew to the kitchen sink.</p> + +<p>“What are you up to now?” said Dora, the housemaid, +who stood there with her bonnet on. “You’ll +drown that poor little creetur, and squeeze it to death +too! Miss Ninny, why don’t you attend to your little +sister?”</p> + +<p>Dear Ninny! as if she were not doing her best! +<a name="png.039" id="png.039"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>039</samp>And here it was half-past three, and Eva Snow coming +at four!</p> + +<p>“O Dodo!” said she, “you’re not going off?”</p> + +<p>“Only just round the corner, Miss Ninny. I’ll be +right back.”</p> + +<p>But it was a pity she should go out at all. Mrs. +Gray did not suppose she would leave the house while +she was gone.</p> + +<p>As soon as “Dodo” was out of sight, Flaxie thought +she could have her own way.</p> + +<p>“O Ninny! you’re my darlin’ sister,” said she, with +a very sweet smile. “Will you lem me carry my kitty +over to grandma’s?”</p> + +<p>“Why, no indeed! You mustn’t go ’way over the +bridge.”</p> + +<p>“Yes I mus’. ’Twon’t hurt me <i>a</i> tall!”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t let you, Flaxie Frizzle; truly I can’t; +so don’t ask me again.”</p> + +<p>Flaxie’s lip curled as well as her nose.</p> + +<p>“Poh! I haven’t got so good a sister as I fought I +had. Laugh to me, Ninny, and get me my pretty new +hat, or I’ll shut you up in the closet!”</p> + +<p>Ninny did laugh, it was so funny to hear that speck +of a child talk of punishing a big girl like her!</p> + +<p>“Will you lem me go?” repeated Flaxie.</p> + +<p>“No, indeed! What an idea!”<a + name="png.040" id="png.040"></a><samp class="pgmark">040</samp></p> + +<p>“I’ve got fi-ive cents, Ninny. I’ll buy you anyfing +what you want? Now lem me! ’Twon’t hurt me <i>a</i> +tall!”</p> + +<p>Ninny shook her head, and kept shaking it; and +Flaxie began to push her toward the closet door.</p> + +<p>“<i>Will</i> you get my hat, Ninny? ’Cause when I die +’n’ go to hebben, then you won’t have no little sister.”</p> + +<p>“No, I will not get your hat, miss, so there!”</p> + +<p>All this while Flaxie was pushing, and Ninny was +shaking her head. The closet-door stood open, and, +before Ninny thought much about it, she was inside.</p> + +<p>“There you is!” laughed the baby.</p> + +<p>Then rising on her “tippy-toes,” Flaxie began to +fumble with the key. Ninny smiled to hear her +breathe so hard, but never thought the wee, wee fingers +could do any harm.</p> + +<p>At last the key, after clicking for a good while, +turned round in the lock; yes, fairly turned. The +door was fastened.</p> + +<p>“Let me out! out! out!” cried Ninny, pounding +with both hands.</p> + +<p>Flaxie was perfectly delighted. She had not known +till then that the door was locked, and if Ninny had +been quiet she would probably have kept fumbling +away till she opened it. But now she wouldn’t so +much as touch the key, you may be sure. O, +<a name="png.041" id="png.041"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>041</samp>Flaxie Frizzle was a big rogue, as big as she <i>could</i> be, +and be so little! There she stood, hopping up and +down, and laughing, with the blind kitty hugged close +to her bosom.</p> + +<p>“Laugh to me, Ninny!”</p> + +<p>“What do I want to laugh for? Let me out, you +naughty girl!”</p> + +<p>“Well, <i>you</i> needn’t laugh, but <i>I</i> shall. Now I’s +goin’ to grandma’s, and carry my white kitty.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, you mustn’t, you mustn’t!”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> can’t help it! I <i>is</i> a goin’!”</p> + +<p>“Flaxie! Flax-ee!”</p> + +<p>Oh! where was Eva Snow? Would she never +come? There was a sliding-door in the wall above +the middle shelf, and Ninny climbed up and pushed +it back. It opened into the parlor-closet, where the +china dishes stood. If she could only crawl through +that sliding door she might get out by way of the +parlor, if she <i>did</i> break the dishes.</p> + +<p>But, oh dear! it wasn’t half big enough. She could +only put her head in, and part of one shoulder. What +should she do?</p> + +<p>It was of no use screaming to that witch of a +Frizzle; but she did scream. She threatened to +“whip her,” and “tie her,” and “box her ears,” and +“burn up her dollies.”<a + name="png.042" id="png.042"></a><samp class="pgmark">042</samp></p> + +<p>But Flaxie knew she wouldn’t; so she calmly +pulled off her boots and put on her rubbers.</p> + +<p>Then Ninny coaxed. She promised candy and +oranges and even wedding-cake, for she forgot she +hadn’t a speck of wedding-cake in the world.</p> + +<p>But, while she was still screaming, Flaxie was +out of sight and hearing. She hadn’t found her hat; +but, with her new rubbers on her feet, and the blind +kitty still hugged to her bosom, she was “going to +grandma’s.” She ran with all her might; for what +if somebody should catch her before she got there!</p> + +<p>“The faster I hurry the quicker I can’t go,” said +she, puffing for breath.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful day. The wind blew over the +grass, and the grass moved in green waves; Flaxie +thought it was running away like herself.</p> + +<p>It was half a mile to the bridge. By the time she +reached Mr. Pratt’s store, which was half way, she +thought she would stop to rest.</p> + +<p>“’Cause he’ll give me some candy,” said she, and +walked right into the store, though it was half full of +men,—oh fie! Flaxie Frizzle!</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones, a lame man, was sitting next the door, +and she walked boldly up to him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. <i>Lame</i> Jones, does you want to see my kitty?”</p> + +<p>He laughed, and took it in his hands; and another +man pinched its tail. Flaxie screamed out:<a + name="png.043" id="png.043"></a><samp class="pgmark">043</samp></p> + +<p>“You mustn’t hold it by the handle, Mr. Man!”</p> + +<p>Then they all laughed more than ever, and clapped +their hands; and Mr. Jones said:</p> + +<p>“You’re a cunning baby!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Flaxie, quickly, “what makes you +have turn-about feet?”</p> + +<p>This wasn’t a proper thing to say, and it made Mr. +Jones look sober, for he was sorry to have such feet. +Mr. Pratt was afraid Flaxie would talk more about +them; so he frowned at her and said:</p> + +<p>“Good little girls don’t run away bare-headed, Miss +Frizzle! Is your mamma at home?”</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll go now,” said Flaxie; “some more +folks will want to see my kitty.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Pratt’s boy ran after her with a stick of candy, +but could not catch her. She called now at all the +houses along the road, ringing the bells so furiously +that people rushed to the doors, afraid something +dreadful had happened.</p> + +<p>“I fought you’d want to see my kitty,” said the +runaway, holding up the little blind bundle; and they +always laughed then; how could they help it?</p> + +<p>But somehow nobody thought of sending her home.</p> + +<p>When she reached the bridge she was hungry, and +told the “bridge-man” she was “fond of cookies.” +His wife gave her a caraway-cake shaped like a +leaf. +</p> + +<p class="illusctr"><a name="I044" id="I044" href="images/img044.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img044-sml.png" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" width="262" height="375" /></a></p> + +<p><!-- <a name="png.044" id="png.044"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>044</samp><a name="png.045" id="png.045"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>045</samp>[Blank Page] --> +<a name="png.046" id="png.046"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>046</samp>“I’m fond o’ that one,” said she, with her mouth +full. “Please give me <i>two</i> ones.”</p> + +<p>Just fancy it! Begging food at people’s houses! +Yet her mamma <i>had</i> tried to teach her good manners, +little as you may think it.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe she has had any supper. It must +be she is running away,” said the bridge-man’s wife, +as Flaxie left her door. “I ought to have stopped +her; but somebody will, of course.”</p> + +<p>But nobody did. People only laughed at her kitty, +and then passed on.</p> + +<p>Soon the sun set, and the new moon shone white +against the blue sky. Flaxie had often seen the +moon, but it looked larger and rounder than this. +What ailed it now?</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know,” said she, “God has doubled it up.”</p> + +<p>She had changed her mind, and did not want to go +to her grandmother’s.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Pratt fought I was bare-headed, and grandma’ll +fink I’m bare-headed. Guess I won’t go to g’andma’s, +kitty, I’ll go to preach-man’s house; preach-man will +want to see you.”</p> + +<p>On she went till she came to the church. Then she +sat down on the big steps, dreadfully tired.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my yubbers ache so! Now go s’eep, Kitty; +and when you want to wake up, call me, and I’ll wake +you.”<a + name="png.047" id="png.047"></a><samp class="pgmark">047</samp></p> + +<p>This was the last Flaxie remembered. When the +postmaster found her, she was sitting up, fast asleep, +with her little tow head against the door, and the +kitty in her arms. The kitty was still alive.</p> + +<p>Eva Snow had come and let Ninny out of the closet +long ago; and lots of people had been hunting ever +since for Flaxie Frizzle. When the postmaster and +the minister brought her home between them, Mrs. +Gray was so very glad that she laughed and cried. +Still she thought Flaxie ought to be punished.</p> + +<p>“O mamma,” said Miss Frizzle next morning, very +much surprised to find herself tied by the clothes-line +to a knob in the bay-window. “The men laughed to +me, they did! Mr. Lame Jones, he <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber's note: 'd' partly missing from scan">said</ins> I was very +cunning!”</p> + +<p>But for all that, her mamma did not <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber's note: 'u' not clear, 'n' missing from scan">untie</ins> her till +afternoon; and then Flaxie promised “<ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber's note: 'n' missing from scan">honestly</ins>,” not +to run away again.</p> + +<p>Would you trust her?</p> + +<p class="illusctr"> +<img src="images/deco047.png" width="250" height="46" + alt="Printer's decoration" /></p> + +<p class="tb"><a name="png.048" id="png.048"></a><samp class="pgmark">048</samp> </p> + +<p class="illusctr newchap"> +<img src="images/deco048a.png" width="427" height="100" + alt="Printer's decoration" /></p> + + +<h2 class="chap">FIVE POUNDS OF CINNAMON.</h2> + + +<p class="drop"><img class="initial" src="images/deco048bb.png" alt="T" + width="137" height="126" style="margin-top: -1.5em;" +/><img class="initial" src="images/deco048cc.png" alt="" + width="48" height="109" +/><span class="firstword">hey</span> don’t name girls “Roxy,” and +“Polly,” and “Patty,” and “Sally,” +nowadays; but when the little miss +who is my heroine was a lady, those +short, funny old names were not at all old-fashioned. +“Roxy,” especially, was considered +a very sweet name indeed. All these new +names, “Eva,” and “Ada,” and “Sadie,” and +“Lillie,” and the rest of the fanciful “ies” were not +in vogue. Then, if a romantic, highflown young mamma +wished to give her tiny girl-baby an unusually fine +name, she selected such as “Sophronia,” “Matilda,” +“Lucretia,” or “Ophelia.” In extreme cases, the +baby could be called “Victoria Adelaide.”</p> + +<p>In this instance baby’s mother was a plain, quiet +<a name="png.049" id="png.049"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>049</samp>woman; and she thought baby’s grandmother’s name +was quite fine enough for baby; and so baby was +called “Roxy,” and, when she was ten years old, you +would have thought little Roxy fully as old-fashioned +as her name.</p> + +<p><i>I think it is her clothes</i> that makes her image look +so funny as she rises up before me. She herself had +brown hair and eyes, and a good country complexion +of milk and roses—such a nice complexion, girls! +You see she had plenty of bread and milk to eat; and +a big chamber, big as the sitting-room down stairs, +to sleep in—all windows—and her bed stood, neat +and cool, in the middle of the floor; and she had to +walk ever so far to get anywhere—it was a respectable +little run even out to the barn for the hens’ eggs; +and it was half a mile to her cousin Hannah’s, and it +was three quarters to school, and just a mile to the +very nearest stick of candy or cluster of raisins. Nuts +were a little nearer; for Roxy’s father had a noble +butternut orchard, and it was as much a part of the +regular farm-work in the fall to gather the “but’nuts” +as it was to gather the apples.</p> + +<p>Don’t you see, now, why she had such a nice complexion? +But if you think it don’t quite account for +such plump, rosy cheeks, why, then, she had to chase +ever so many ways for the strawberries. Not a strawberry +<a name="png.050" id="png.050"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>050</samp>was raised in common folks’ gardens in those +days. They grew mostly in farmers’ meadows; and +very angry those farmers used to be at such girls +as Roxy in “strawberry time”—“strawberry time” +comes before “mowing,” you know—for how they did +wallow and trample the grass! Besides, the raspberries +and blackberries, instead of being Doolittle +Blackcaps, and Kittatinnies, and tied up to nice stakes +in civilized little plantations, grew away off upon steep +hill-sides, and in the edges of woods, by old logs, and +around stumps; and it took at least three girls, and +half a day, and a lunch-basket, and torn dresses, and +such clambering, and such fun, to get them! <i>Of course</i> +Roxy had red cheeks, and a sweet breath, and plump, +firm white flesh—<i>so</i> white wherever it wasn’t browned +by the sunshine.</p> + +<p>But otherwise she certainly was old-fashioned, almost +quaint. Her hair was braided tight in two long +braids, crossed on her neck, and tied with a bit of +black thread; there was a pair of precious little blue +ribbons in the drawer for Sundays and high days. +Roxy’s mother would have been awfully shocked at +the wavy, flowing hair of you Wide Awake girls, I +assure you!</p> + +<p>And Roxy’s dress. <i>You</i> never saw a “tow and +linen” dress, I dare say. Roxy’s dresses were all +<a name="png.051" id="png.051"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>051</samp>“home-made”—not merely cut and sewed at home; +but Roxy’s father raised the flax in the field north of +the house, and Roxy’s mother spun the flax and tow +into thread upon funny little wheels. Then she +colored the thread, part of it indigo blue, and part +of “copperas color,” and after that wove it into +cloth—not just enough for a dress, but enough for +two dresses for Roxy, two for herself, and some +for the men folks’ shirts, besides yards and yards of +dreadfully coarse cloth for “trousers;” and perhaps +there was a fine white piece for sheets and pillowcases. +Bless me! how the farmers’ wives did work +eighty years ago!</p> + +<p>And how that “blue and copperas check” did wear, +and how it did shine when it was freshly washed and +ironed! Only it was made up so ungracefully—just +a plain, full skirt, plain, straight waist, and plain +straight sleeves. <i>You</i> never saw a dress made so, +because children’s clothes have been cut pretty and +cunning for a great many years. Roxy’s dresses were +short, and she wore straight, full “pantalets,” that +came down to the tops of her shoes; for Mrs. Thomas +Gildersleeve would have thought it dreadful to allow +her daughter to show the shape of her round little +legs, as all children do nowadays.</p> + +<p>To finish up, Roxy wore a “tie-apron.” This was +<a name="png.052" id="png.052"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>052</samp>simply a straight breadth of “store calico,” gathered +upon a band with long ends, and tied round her waist. +Very important a little girl felt when allowed to leave +off the high apron and don the “tie-apron.”</p> + +<p>The first day she came to school with it on, her +mates would stand one side and look at her. “O, +dear! you feel big—don’t you?” they would say to +her. Maybe she would be obliged to “associate by +herself” for a day or so, until they became accustomed +to the sight of the “tie-apron,” or until her +own good nature got the better of their envy.</p> + +<p>A “slat sun-bonnet,” made of calico and pasteboard, +completed Roxy’s costume on the summer morning of +an eventful day in her life. It was drawn just as far +on as could be. It hid her face completely. She was +pacing along slowly, head bent down, to school. It +was only eight o’clock. Why was Roxy so early?</p> + +<p>Well, this morning she preferred to be away from +her mother. She was “mad” at both her father and +mother. “Stingy things!” she said, with a great, +angry sob.</p> + +<p>About that time of every year, June, the children +were forbidden to go indiscriminately any more to the +“maple sugar tub.” The sweet store would begin +to lessen alarmingly by that time, and the indulgent +mother would begin to economize.<a + name="png.053" id="png.053"></a><samp class="pgmark">053</samp></p> + +<p>Every day since they “made sugar,” Roxy had had +the felicity of carrying a great, brown, irregular, tempting +chunk of maple sugar to school. She had always +divided with the girls generously. Her father did +not often give her pennies to buy cinnamon, candy, +raisins, and cloves with; so she used to “treat” with +maple sugar in the summer, and with “but’nut meats” +in the winter, in return for the “store goodies” other +girls had.</p> + +<p>For a week now she had been prohibited the sugar-tub. +This morning she had asked her father for +sixpence, to buy cinnamon. She had been refused. +“Stingy things!” she sobbed. “They think a little +girl can live without money just as well as not. O, +I am so ashamed! I’d like to see how mother would +like to be invited to tea by the neighbors, and never +ask any of them to <i>her</i> house. I guess she’d feel +mean! But they think because I am a little girl, +there’s no need of <i>my</i> being polite and free-hearted! +Polly Stedman has given me cinnamon three times, +and I <i>know</i> the girls think I’m stingy! I’m <i>so</i> +ashamed!” And Roxy’s red cheeks and shining +brown eyes brimmed up and overflowed with tears.</p> + +<p>Poor little Roxy! she herself had such a big sweet +tooth! It was absolutely impossible for her to refuse +a piece of stick cinnamon or a peppermint drop. +<a name="png.054" id="png.054"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>054</samp>Yesterday she had told the girls she should certainly +bring maple sugar to-day. She meant to, too, even +if she “took” it. But there her mother had stood +at the broad shelf all the morning, making pies and +ginger snaps, and the sugar-tub set under the broad +shelf. There was no chance. She finally had asked +her mother.</p> + +<p>“No, Roxy; the sugar will be gone in less than +a month. You children eat more sugar every year +than I use in cooking. It’s a wonder you have any +stomachs left.”</p> + +<p>“I promised the girls some,” pleaded Roxy.</p> + +<p>“Promised the girls! You’ve fed these girls ever +since the sugar was made. Off with you! What do +you suppose your father’d say?”</p> + +<p>Roxy wouldn’t have dared tell her father. He was +a stirring, hard-working man, that gave his family all +the luxuries and comforts that could be “raised” on +the farm; but bought few, and growled over what he +did buy, and made no “store debts.” It was high +time, in fact, that Roxy’s indulgent mother should +begin to husband the sugar.</p> + +<p>Roxy saw there would be no chance to “take” +the sugar; so she had mournfully started off. Is it +strange that so generous a girl would have stolen, if +she could? Why, children, I have seen many a man +<a name="png.055" id="png.055"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>055</samp>do mean, wrong, dishonest deeds, in order to be +thought generous, and a “royal good fellow,” by his +own particular friends; and Roxy would a thousand +times rather have “stolen” than to have faced her +mates empty-handed this morning. She walked on +in sorrowful meditation. She thought once of going +back, to see if there were eggs at the barn—she +might take them down to the store, and get candy. +But she remembered they were all brought in last +night, and it was too early for the hens to have laid +this morning.</p> + +<p>As she pondered ways and means in her little brain, +a daring thought struck her. That thought took away +her breath. She turned white and cold. Then she +turned burning red all over. Her little feet shook +under her. But, my! What riches! What a supply +to go to! How they would envy her!</p> + +<p>“I don’t care—so. They needn’t be so stingy +with me! And Mrs. Reub uses so much such things +I don’t believe it will ever be noticed in the ‘account’—and, +any way, it’ll be six months before he settles +up. Nobody will know it till then, and maybe—<i>maybe</i> +I shall be dead by that time, or the world will burn +up!”</p> + +<p>With these comforting reflections, Roxy straightened +up her little sun-bonneted head, doubled her +<a name="png.056" id="png.056"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>056</samp>little brown fists, and ran as hard as she could—and +Roxy could outrun most of the boys. On she ran, +past the school-house—it was not yet unlocked—right +on down to the village. She slacked up as she +struck the sidewalks. She walked slower and slower, +to cool her bounding pulses and burning skin.</p> + +<p>Still her cheeks were like two blood-red roses as +she walked into the cool, dark, old stone store; but +for some reason, mental, moral, or physical, while her +cheeks remained red, her little legs and arms grew +stone cold and stiff, and spots like blood came before +her eyes, and a great ringing filled her ears, as Mr. +Hampshire, the merchant himself, instead of his clerk, +came to wait upon her. “And what will you have, +Miss Roxy—some peppermints?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. If you please, Mrs. Reuben Markham +wants two pounds of raisins, and five pounds of cinnamon, +and you are to charge it to Mr. Markham.”</p> + +<p>It was strange, but her voice never faltered after +she got well begun. However, for all that, Mr. Hampshire +stared at her. “<i>Five pounds of cinnamon</i>, did +you say, sis?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, if you please,” answered Roxy, quietly, +“and two pounds of raisins.”</p> + +<p class="illusctr"><a name="I058" id="I058" href="images/img058.png" target="_blank" +><img src="images/img058-sml.png" width="426" height="274" + alt="Uncaptioned illustration" /></a> +</p> + +<p>So Mr. Hampshire went back, and weighed out the +cinnamon and raisins, and gave them to her. She +<a name="png.057" id="png.057"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>057</samp>was a little startled at the mighty bundle five pounds +of stick cinnamon made; but she took them and went +out, and Mr. Hampshire went back and charged the +things to Mr. Reuben Markham.</p> + +<p>Miss Roxy went speeding back to the school-house +with her aromatic bundle. Her face was fairly radiant. +She had no idea five pounds of cinnamon were +so much. O, <i>such a lot</i>! She had made up her mind +what to do with it. She couldn’t, of course, carry it +home. She had no trunk that would lock, or any +place safe from her mother’s eyes. But in the grove, +back of the school-house, there was a tree with a hollow +in it. By hard running she got there before any +of the scholars came. She put her fragrant packages +in, first filling her pocket, and then stopped the remaining +space with a couple of innocent-looking stones.</p> + +<p>Such a happy day as it was! She found herself a +perfect princess among her mates. She “treated” +them royally, I assure you. Everybody was so obliging +to her all day, and it was so nice to be able to +make everybody pleased and grateful! Both the day +of judgment and the dying day were put afar off—at +least six months off.</p> + +<p>Meantime, during the forenoon, Mr. Hampshire +kept referring to the idea that any one could want <i>five +pounds of cinnamon</i> at one time. Still, little Roxy +<!-- <a name="png.058" id="png.058"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>058</samp> --><a name="png.059" id="png.059"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>059</samp>was Mrs. Reub Markham’s next neighbor, and it was +perfectly probable that she should send by her.</p> + +<p>Some time in the afternoon Mr. Reuben Markham +came down to the store. He was a wealthy man, +jolly, but quick-tempered. Mr. Hampshire and he +were on excellent terms. “How are you, Markham? +and what’s your wife baking to-day?”</p> + +<p>“My wife baking?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I concluded you were going to have something +extra spicy. Five pounds of cinnamon look +rather suspicious. Miss Janet’s not going to step off—is +she.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not in that young person’s confidence. I +should say not, however. But what do you mean by +your five pounds of cinnamon?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Mrs. Gildersleeve’s little girl was in here +this morning, and said Mrs. Markham sent for five +pounds of cinnamon and two of raisins.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Gildersleeve’s girl? I know Mrs. Markham +never sent for no such things. She knew I was +coming down myself this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>He followed Mr. Hampshire down the store to the +desk. There it was in the day-book:—</p> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td colspan="4" style="text-indent: 2em;">“Reub Markham, Dr., per Roxy Gildersleeve.</td></tr> + +<tr><td>To</td><td>5</td><td>pounds</td><td>cinnamon, 40c.,</td><td class="rt"> $2 00</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="cntr">“</td><td> 2</td><td class="cntr"> “ </td><td> raisins (layer), 20c.,</td><td class="rt"> 40</td></tr> +</table> +<a name="png.060" id="png.060"></a><samp class="pgmark">060</samp> + +<p>That Mr. Reub Markham swore, must also be set +down against him. He drove home in a red rage. +Through the open school-house door, little Roxy +Gildersleeve saw him pass; but her merry young heart +boded no ill. Her mouth was tingling pungently with +the fine cinnamon, and in her pocket yet were eight +moist, fat, sugary raisins, to be slipped in her mouth +one by one, four during the geography lesson, four +during the spelling lesson.</p> + +<p>As it happened, Mr. Gildersleeve was cultivating +corn in a field that fronted the highway. He and his +wealthier neighbor were not on the best of terms. A +line fence and an unruly ox had made trouble. Mr. +Gildersleeve had sued Mr. Markham, and beat him; +and Mr. Gildersleeve didn’t take any pains now to +look up as he saw who was coming.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Markham drew up his horses.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Gildersleeve!”</p> + +<p>“Hello yourself, Mr. Markham!”</p> + +<p>“I say, what you sending your young uns down to +the store after things, and charging them to me for? +Mighty creditable that, Tom Gildersleeve!”</p> + +<p>“Getting things and charging them to you!” Gildersleeve +stopped his horse. “What do you mean, +Markham?”</p> + +<p>“You better go down and ask Hampshire. If you +<a name="png.061" id="png.061"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>061</samp>don’t, you may get it explained in a way you won’t +fancy!”</p> + +<p>He whipped up his horses and drove off, leaving +Mr. Gildersleeve standing there, gazing after him +as if he had lost his senses. After a moment he +unhitched his horse from the cultivator, mounted him, +and rode off toward the village.</p> + +<p>School was out. Roxy had reached home. She +was setting the table, and whistling like a blackbird. +Things had gone so happily at school! Everything +was so neat, and pleasant, and cosy at home! She +saw her father ride into the yard, and go to the barn. +She whistled on.</p> + +<p>She sat in the big rocking-chair, stoning cherries, +and smelling the roses by the window, when he came +into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Roxy?” she heard him ask.</p> + +<p>“In the other room, I guess,” said mother.</p> + +<p>He came in where she was. She looked up; and +her little stained hands fell back into the pan. She +knew the day of judgment had come. O, she wished +it was that other day, the day of death, instead! Her +mouth dropped open, the room turned dark.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gildersleeve sank down on a chair. His +child’s face was too much for him. He groaned +aloud. “That one of <i>my</i> children should ever be +<a name="png.062" id="png.062"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>062</samp>talked about as a thief! What possessed you, +Roxy?”</p> + +<p>Roxy sat before him, trembling. Not at the prospect +of punishment. But she saw her father’s eyes +filling up with tears. “Don’t, father,” she said, hurriedly, +trying not to cry. “I’ve only eaten a little, +and I will carry it all back. If you will pay for what +is gone, I’ll sell berries or something, and pay you +back the money. Mr. Hampshire is a good man; he +won’t tell, father, if you ask him not.”</p> + +<p>“You poor, ignorant child!”</p> + +<p>He got up and went out, shutting the door after +him. Not one word of punishment; but he left Roxy +trembling with a strange terror. She shook with a +presentiment of some unendurable public disgrace. +Setting down the pan of cherries, she crept to the +door. She heard her father’s voice, her mother’s +sharp exclamations. Then her father said, “To +think <i>our</i> girl should sin in such a high-handed way! +Mother, I’d rather laid her in her grave any day! +That hot-headed Markham will not rest until he’s published +it from Dan to Beersheba. She’s only a child, +but this thing will stick to her as long as she lives.”</p> + +<p>Her mother sobbed. “Our poor Roxy! Tom, if the +school children get hold of it, she will never go +another day. The child is so sensitive! I don’t know +<a name="png.063" id="png.063"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>063</samp>how to punish her as I ought. I can only think how +to save her from what is before her.”</p> + +<p>O, how Roxy, standing at the key-hole, trembled to +see her mother lean her head on her father’s shoulder +and sob, and to see tears on her father’s cheeks! +O, what a wicked, wicked girl! It <i>was</i> thieving; in +some way it was even worse than that; as if she had +committed a—a forgery, maybe, Roxy thought. She +was conscious she had done something unusually +daring and dreadful.</p> + +<p>She stole off up stairs, shut herself in, and cried +as hard as she could cry. Afterward her little brain +began to busy itself in many directions. She tried to +fancy herself shamed and pointed at, afraid to go to +school, afraid to go down to the store, ashamed to go +to the table, with no right to laugh, and play, and stay +around near her mother, never again to dare ask her +father to ride when he was going off with the horses.</p> + +<p>So lonely and gloomy, she tried to think what it +was possible to do. At last, as in the morning, a daring +thought occurred to her suddenly. She made up her +mind in just one minute to do it.</p> + +<p>When her mother called, she went down to supper +at once. The boys were gone. Nobody but she and +father and mother; and the three had very red eyes, +and said nothing, but passed things to each other +<a name="png.064" id="png.064"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>064</samp>in a kind, quiet way, that seemed to Roxy like folks +after a funeral—perhaps it did to the rest of them. +Roxy was fanciful enough to think to herself, “Yes, +it is <i>my</i> funeral. We have just buried my good +name.”</p> + +<p>Silently, one with a white face, the other with a +red one, Roxy and her mother did up the work. +Then Roxy went up to her room again. She took a +sheet of foolscap, and made it into four sheets of note +paper. She wrote and printed something on each +sheet, and folded all the sheets into letters. Then +she went down stairs. Two of the little letters she +handed to her mother. Then, bonnet in hand, she +stole out the front door. At the gate she looked +down the road toward the village, up the road toward +Mr. Markham’s. She started toward Mr. Markham’s. +She got over the road marvelously; for the child was +wild to get the thing over with. She was going up +the path to the house when she saw Mr. Markham +hoeing in the garden. She went to him, thrust a note +into his hand, and was off like a dart.</p> + +<p>It was a long, hard, lonely run down to the village. +How lonely in the grove at the hollow tree! How like +a thief, with the bundles openly on her arm! No +little girl’s pocket would hold them, nothing but a +great Judas-bag. She went straight to the stone store. +<a name="png.065" id="png.065"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>065</samp>It was just sunset. How thankful she was to find +nobody in the store but Mr. Hampshire himself, reading +the evening paper. He looked up, and recognized +the red little face. He glanced at the bundles as she +threw them, with a letter, down on the counter, and +whisked out through the door. He called after her, +“Here, here, Roxy; here, my dear! Come back. +I have some figs for you!”</p> + +<p>But no Roxy came back. He heard her little heels +clattering down the sidewalk fast as they could go. +So he got up and read the letter, for it was directed +to himself.</p> + +<p>Here are the four notes Roxy wrote:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Dear Father: I Will paye you every Cent if I +Live. I shall always be a Good Girl, and never hanker +after Only what I have Got. Please forgive Me, and +Not Talk It Over with Mother. It will make her +Sick. + +<span class="roxy">Roxy.”</span></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Dear Mother: Please love me until I am Bad +once More. If I ever, Ever, should be Bad again, +then you may give me Up. Don’t get Sick. <span class="roxy">Roxy.”</span></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Mr. MarkHam: I have been Very Wicked. I +have made father and Mother wretched. I am sorry. +<a name="png.066" id="png.066"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>066</samp>Please don’t be Hard on Me, and Set every body +against me, because My Mother would settle right +down and be very Sick. I am only a Little girl, and +a Big Man might let me go. I have taken the Things +back to the Store. Also father has Paid for them. +<i>You</i> may Want something some day, and do Wrong +to get it, and Then you will know How good it is. + +<span class="roxy">R. Gildersleeve.”</span></p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Mr. HamPshire: Please Not tell the folks that +come into the Store what I did. I want a Chance to +be good. If you Ever hear of my stealing again, +Then you can tell, of course. <span class="roxy">R. Gildersleeve.”</span></p> +</blockquote> + +<p style="clear: both;">And here is what they said:—</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Gildersleeve</i> (crying). “Here, mother, put this +away. Never speak of it to her. Poor child, I <i>did</i> +mean to whip her!”</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Gildersleeve</i> (crying). “Bless her heart, Tom, +this is true repentance! Our child will not soon forget +this lesson. Let us be very good to her.”</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Markham</i> (laughing). “Young saucebox! +But there’s true grit for you! Well, I don’t think I +shall stoop to injure a child. Let it go. I’m quits +with Tom now, and we’ll begin again even.”</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Hampshire</i> (laughing). “She’s a nice little +<a name="png.067" id="png.067"></a><samp class="pgmark" +>067</samp>dot, after all. I don’t see what possessed her. I’d +like to show this to Maria; guess I won’t, though, +for it is partly <i>my</i> business to keep the little name +white.”</p> + +<p class="tb"> +And none of them ever told. When Roxy was an +old woman, she related to me the story herself. The +name was kept white through life. Such a scrupulous, +kindly, charitable old lady! The only strange +thing about her was, that she never could eat anything +flavored with cinnamon, or which had raisins +in it.</p> + +<p class="illusctr"><img src="images/deco067.png" width="264" height="207" + alt="Printer's decoration" /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="tnote newchap"> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes:</h3> + +<p>Obvious spelling/typographical and punctuation +errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other +occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.</p> + +<p>Transcriber’s notes in text—mostly detailing corrections—are +indicated by faint dotted underlining. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the note will <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="pg" noshade="noshade" /> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land +and other Stories by Ellis Towne, Sophie May and Ella Farman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILL'S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS LAND *** + +***** This file should be named 20112-h.htm or 20112-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/1/20112/ + +Produced by David Newman, David Wilson, Chuck Greif, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://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: Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land and other Stories + +Author: Ellis Towne, Sophie May and Ella Farman + +Release Date: May 4, 2007 [EBook #20112] +[This file was first posted on December 15, 2006] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILL'S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS LAND *** + + + + +Produced by David Newman, David Wilson, Chuck Greif, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + LILL'S TRAVELS + IN SANTA CLAUS LAND. + + AND OTHER STORIES. + + BY + ELLIS TOWNE, SOPHIE MAY AND ELLA FARMAN. + + + BOSTON: + D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, + FRANKLIN ST., CORNER OF HAWLEY. + + + COPYRIGHT BY + D. LOTHROP & CO. + 1878. + + + + +LILL'S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS LAND. + + +Effie had been playing with her dolls one cold December morning, and +Lill had been reading, until both were tired. But it stormed too hard to +go out, and, as Mrs. Pelerine had said they need not do anything for two +hours, their little jaws might have been dislocated by yawning before +they would as much as pick up a pin. Presently Lill said, "Effie, shall +I tell you a story." + +"O yes! do!" said Effie, and she climbed up by Lill in the large +rocking-chair in front of the grate. She kept very still, for she knew +Lill's stories were not to be interrupted by a sound, or even a motion. +The first thing Lill did was to fix her eyes on the fire, and rock +backward and forward quite hard for a little while, and then she said, +"Now I am going to tell you about my _thought travels_, and they are apt +to be a little queerer, but O! ever so much nicer, than the other kind!" + +As Lill's stories usually had a formal introduction she began: "Once +upon a time, when I was taking a walk through the great field beyond the +orchard, I went way on, 'round where the path turns behind the hill. And +after I had walked a little way, I came to a high wall--built right up +into the sky. At first I thought I had discovered the 'ends of the +earth,' or perhaps I had somehow come to the great wall of China. But +after walking a long way I came to a large gate, and over it was printed +in beautiful gold letters, 'Santa Claus Land,' and the letters were +large enough for a baby to read!" + +How large that might be Lill did not stop to explain. + +"But the gate was shut tight," she continued, "and though I knocked and +knocked and knocked, as hard as I could, nobody came to open it. I was +dreadfully disappointed, because I felt as if Santa Claus must live here +all of the year except when he went out to pay Christmas visits, and +it would be so lovely to see him in his own home, you know. But what was +I to do? The gate was entirely too high to climb over, and there wasn't +even a crack to peek through!" + +Here Lill paused, and Effie drew a long breath, and looked greatly +disappointed. Then Lill went on: + +"But you see, as I was poking about, I pressed a bell-spring, and in a +moment--jingle, jingle, jingle, the bells went ringing far and near, +with such a merry sound as was never heard before. While they were still +ringing the gate slowly opened and I walked in. I didn't even stop to +inquire if Santa Claus was at home, for I forgot all about myself and my +manners, it was so lovely. First there was a small paved square like a +court; it was surrounded by rows and rows of dark green trees, with +several avenues opening between them. + +"In the centre of the court was a beautiful marble fountain, with +streams of sugar plums and bon-bons tumbling out of it. Funny-looking +little men were filling cornucopias at the fountain, and pretty little +barefoot children, with chubby hands and dimpled shoulders, took them as +soon as they were filled, and ran off with them. They were all too much +occupied to speak to me, but as I came up to the fountain one of the +funny little fellows gave me a cornucopia, and I marched on with the +babies. + +"We went down one of the avenues, which would have been very dark only +it was splendidly lighted up with Christmas candles. I saw the babies +were slyly eating a candy or two, so I tasted mine, and they were +delicious--the real Christmas kind. After we had gone a little way, the +trees were smaller and not so close together, and here there were other +funny little fellows who were climbing up on ladders and tying toys and +bon-bons to the trees. The children stopped and delivered their +packages, but I walked on, for there was something in the distance that +I was curious to see. I could see that it was a large garden, that +looked as if it might be well cared for, and had many things growing in +it. But even in the distance it didn't look natural, and when I reached +it I found it was a very uncommon kind of a garden indeed. I could +scarcely believe my eyes, but there were dolls and donkeys and drays and +cars and croquet coming up in long, straight rows, and ever so many +other things beside. In one place the wooden dolls had only just +started; their funny little heads were just above ground, and I thought +they looked very much surprised at their surroundings. Farther on were +china dolls, that looked quite grown up, and I suppose were ready to +pull; and a gardener was hoeing a row of soldiers that didn't look in a +very healthy condition, or as if they had done very well. + +"The gardener looked familiar, I thought, and as I approached him he +stopped work and, leaning on his hoe he said, 'How do you do, Lilian? I +am very glad to see you.' + +"The moment he raised his face I knew it was Santa Claus, for he looked +exactly like the portrait we have of him. You can easily believe I was +glad then! I ran and put both of my hands in his, fairly shouting that I +was so glad to find him. + +"He laughed and said: + +"'Why, I am generally to be found here or hereabouts, for I work in the +grounds every day.' + +"And I laughed too, because his laugh sounded so funny; like the brook +going over stones, and the wind up in the trees. Two or three times, +when I thought he had done he would burst out again, laughing the vowels +in this way: 'Ha, ha, ha, ha! He, he, he, he, he! Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi! +Ho, ho, ho, h-o-oo!'" + +Lill did it very well, and Effie laughed till the tears came to her +eyes; and she could quite believe Lill when she said, "It grew to be so +funny that I couldn't stand, but fell over into one of the little chairs +that were growing in a bed just beyond the soldiers. + +"When Santa Claus saw that he stopped suddenly, saying: + +"'There, that will do. I take a hearty laugh every day, for the sake of +digestion.' + +"Then he added, in a whisper, 'That is the reason I live so long and +don't grow old. I've been the same age ever since the chroniclers began +to take notes, and those who are best able to judge think I'll continue +to be this way for about one thousand eight hundred and seventy-six +years longer,--they probably took a new observation at the Centennial, +and they know exactly.' + +"I was greatly delighted to hear this, and I told him so. He nodded and +winked and said it was 'all right,' and then asked if I'd like to see +the place. I said I would, so he threw down the hoe with a sigh, saying, +'I don't believe I shall have more than half a crop of soldiers this +season. They came up well, but the arms and legs seem to be weak. When I +get to town I'll have to send out some girls with glue pots, to stick +them fast.' + +"The town was at some distance, and our path took us by flower-beds +where some exquisite little toys were growing, and a hot-bed where new +varieties were being prop--_propagated_. Pretty soon we came to a +plantation of young trees, with rattles, and rubber balls, and ivory +rings growing on the branches, and as we went past they rang and bounded +about in the merriest sort of a way. + +"'There's a nice growth,' said Santa Claus, and it _was_ a nice growth +for babies; but just beyond I saw something so perfectly splendid that I +didn't care about the plantation." + +"Well," said Lill impressively, seeing that Effie was sufficiently +expectant, "It was a lovely grove. The trees were large, with long +drooping branches, and the branches were just loaded with dolls' +clothes. There were elegant silk dresses, with lovely sashes of every +color--" + +Just here Effie couldn't help saying "O!" for she had a weakness for +sashes. Lill looked stern, and put a warning hand over her mouth, and +went on. + +"There was everything that the most fashionable doll could want, growing +in the greatest profusion. Some of the clothes had fallen, and there +were funny-looking girls picking them up, and packing them in trunks and +boxes. 'These are all ripe,' said Santa Claus, stopping to shake a tree, +and the clothes came tumbling down so fast that the workers were busier +than ever. The grove was on a hill, so that we had a beautiful view of +the country. First there was a park filled with reindeer, and beyond +that was the town, and at one side a large farm-yard filled with +animals of all sorts. + +"But as Santa Claus seemed in a hurry I did not stop long to look. Our +path led through the park, and we stopped to call 'Prancer' and 'Dancer' +and 'Donder' and 'Blitzen,' and Santa Claus fed them with lumps of sugar +from his pocket. He pointed out 'Comet' and 'Cupid' in a distant part of +the park; 'Dasher' and 'Vixen' were nowhere to be seen. + +"Here I found most of the houses were Swiss cottages, but there were +some fine churches and public buildings, all of beautifully illustrated +building blocks, and we stopped for a moment at a long depot, in which a +locomotive was just _smashing up_. + +"Santa Claus' house stood in the middle of the town. It was an +old-fashioned looking house, very broad and low, with an enormous +chimney. There was a wide step in front of the door, shaded by a +fig-tree and grape-vine, and morning-glories and scarlet beans clambered +by the side of the latticed windows; and there were great round +rose-bushes, with great, round roses, on either side of the walk leading +to the door." + +"O! it must have smelled like a party," said Effie, and then subsided, +as she remembered that she was interrupting. + +"Inside, the house was just cozy and comfortable, a real grandfatherly +sort of a place. A big chair was drawn up in front of the window, and a +big book was open on a table in front of the chair. A great pack half +made up was on the floor, and Santa Claus stopped to add a few things +from his pocket. Then he went to the kitchen, and brought me a lunch of +milk and strawberries and cookies, for he said I must be tired after my +long walk. + +"After I had rested a little while, he said if I liked I might go with +him to the observatory. But just as we were starting a funny little +fellow stopped at the door with a wheelbarrow full of boxes of dishes. +After Santa Claus had taken the boxes out and put them in the pack he +said slowly,-- + +"'Let me see!' + +"He laid his finger beside his nose as he said it, and looked at me +attentively, as if I were a sum in addition, and he was adding me up. I +guess I must have come out right, for he looked satisfied, and said I'd +better go to the mine first, and then join him in the observatory. Now I +am afraid he was not exactly polite not to go with me himself," added +Lill, gravely, "but then he apologized by saying he had some work to do. +So I followed the little fellow with the wheelbarrow, and we soon came +to what looked like the entrance of a cave, but I suppose it was the +mine. I followed my guide to the interior without stopping to look at +the boxes and piles of dishes outside. Here I found other funny little +people, busily at work with picks and shovels, taking out wooden dishes +from the bottom of the cave, and china and glass from the top and sides, +for the dishes hung down just like stalactites in Mammoth Cave." + +Here Lill opened the book she had been reading, and showed Effie a +picture of the stalactites. + +"It was so curious and so pretty that I should have remained longer," +said Lill, "only I remembered the observatory and Santa Claus. + +"When I went outside I heard his voice calling out, 'Lilian! Lilian!' It +sounded a great way off, and yet somehow it seemed to fill the air just +as the wind does. I only had to look for a moment, for very near by was +a high tower. I wonder I did not see it before; but in these queer +countries you are sure to see something new every time you look about. +Santa Claus was standing up at a window near the top, and I ran to the +entrance and commenced climbing the stairs. It was a long journey, and I +was quite out of breath when I came to the end of it. But here there was +such a cozy, luxurious little room, full of stuffed chairs and lounges, +bird cages and flowers in the windows, and pictures on the wall, that it +was delightful to rest. There was a lady sitting by a golden desk, +writing in a large book, and Santa Claus was looking through a great +telescope, and every once in a while he stopped and put his ear to a +large speaking-tube. While I was resting he went on with his +observations. + +"Presently he said to the lady, 'Put down a good mark for Sarah +Buttermilk. I see she is trying to conquer her quick temper.' + +"'Two bad ones for Isaac Clappertongue; he'll drive his mother to the +insane asylum yet.' + +"'Bad ones all around for the Crossley children,--they quarrel too +much.' + +"'A good one for Harry and Alice Pleasure, they are quick to mind.' + +"'And give Ruth Olive ten, for she is a peacemaker.'" + +Just then he happened to look at me and saw I was rested, so he politely +asked what I thought of the country. I said it was magnificent. He said +he was sorry I didn't stop in the green-house, where he had wax dolls +and other delicate things growing. I was very sorry about that, and then +I said I thought he must be very happy to own so many delightful things. + +"'Of course I'm happy,' said Santa Claus, and then he sighed. 'But it is +an awful responsibility to reward so many children according to their +deserts. For I take these observations every day, and I know who is good +and who is bad.' + +"I was glad he told me about this, and now, if he would only tell me +what time of day he took the observations, I would have obtained really +valuable information. So I stood up and made my best courtesy and +said,-- + +"'Please, sir, would you tell me what time of day you usually look?' + +"'O,' he answered, carelessly, 'any time from seven in the morning till +ten at night. I am not a bit particular about time. I often go without +my own meals in order to make a record of table manners. For instance: +last evening I saw you turn your spoon over in your mouth, and that's +very unmannerly for a girl nearly fourteen.' + +"'O, I didn't know _you_ were looking,' said I, very much ashamed; 'and +I'll never do it again,' I promised. + +"Then he said I might look through the telescope, and I looked right +down into our house. There was mother very busy and very tired, and all +of the children teasing. It was queer, for I was there, too, and the +_bad-est_ of any. Pretty soon I ran to a quiet corner with a book, and +in a few minutes mamma had to leave her work and call, 'Lilian, +Lilian, it's time for you to practise.' + +"'Yes, mamma,' I answered, 'I'll come right away.' + +"As soon as I said this Santa Claus whistled for 'Comet' and 'Cupid,' +and they came tearing up the tower. He put me in a tiny sleigh, and away +we went, over great snow-banks of clouds, and before I had time to think +I was landed in the big chair, and mamma was calling 'Lilian, Lilian, +it's time for you to practise,' just as she is doing now, and I must +go." + +So Lill answered, "Yes, mamma," and ran to the piano. + +Effie sank back in the chair to think. She wished Lill had found out how +many black marks she had, and whether that lady was Mrs. Santa +Claus--and had, in fact, obtained more accurate information about many +things. + +But when she asked about some of them afterwards, Lill said she didn't +know, for the next time she had traveled in that direction she found +Santa Claus Land had moved. + + + + +WHAT HAPPENED TO KATHIE AND LU. + + +It was a very great misfortune, and it must have been a sad affliction +to the friends of the two children, for both were once pretty and +charming. + +It came about in this way. + +Little Winnie Tennyson--she wasn't the daughter of Mr. Alfred Tennyson, +the poet-laureate of England, but _was_ as sweet as any one of that +gentleman's poems--had been to the city; and she had brought home so +many wondrous improvements that her two little bosom friends, Lu Medway +and Kathie Dysart, were almost struck dumb to behold and to hear what +Winnie said and what Winnie had. + +For one thing, there were some wooden blocks, all fluted and grooved, +and Winnie could heat these blocks in the oven, and wet her hair, and +lay it between them, and O! how satin-smooth the waves would +be,--hair-pin-crimps and braid-crimps were nothing to this new and +scientific way. + +Winnie also made it a matter of pride to display her overskirts. These +were arranged with ever so many tapes on the inside, and would readily +tie up into the most ravishing bunches and puffs--how Lu and Kathie, +wee-est mites of women though they were, did envy Winnie her tapes! +Their mammas didn't know how to loop a dress--witness their little +skirts pinned back into what Kathie called a "wopse." + +She also had brought some tiny parlor skates, and, withal, many airs and +graces which her two young-lady aunties had taught her, among others a +funny little new accent on some of her words,--the word "pretty" in +particular. And, last of all, she had been taught to dance! + +"And I can show _you_," Winnie said, eagerly, "'cause it goes by +'steps,' and uncle says I take them as pr-i-tty as Cousin Lily." + +Now, in Connaut, little girls don't dance--not _nice_ little girls, nor +nice big girls either, for that matter. + +The dimpled mouths opened in astonishment. "That is wicked, Winnie +Ten'son, don't you know?" + +"O, but 'tisn't," said Winnie. "My aunties dance, and their mamma, my +grandmamma, was at the party once." + +"We shall tell our mothers," said Lu. "I'll bet you've come home a +proud, wicked girl, and you want us to be as bad as you are." + +[Illustration: "Winnie already had her class before her."] + +Now Winnie was only six years old, about the same age as her virtuous +friends, and she didn't look very wicked. She had pink cheeks, and blue +eyes, and dimples. She stood gazing at her accusers, first at one and +then at the other. + +"Luie," said Kathie, gravely, "we mustn't call Winnie wicked till we ask +our mothers if she is." + +"No, I don't think I would," said Mrs. Tennyson, looking up from her +sewing, her cheek flushing at the sight of tears in her little Winnie's +gentle eyes. + +On the way home, they chanced to see their own minister walking along. +Lu stopped short. "Kathie," said she, "I know it's awful wicked now, or +else we never should have met the minister right here. I'm just going to +tell him about Winnie." + +She went up to him, Kathie following shyly. + +"Mr. Goodhue, Winnie Ten'son is a nawful wicked girl!" + +"She _is!_" said Mr. Goodhue, stopping, and looking down into the little +eager face. + +"Yes, sir, she is. She wants us to dance!" + +"She _does!_" + +"Yes, sir, she does. She wanted us to learn the steps, right down in her +garden this afternoon. Would you dance, Mr. Goodhue?" + +"Would I? Perhaps I might, were I as little and spry as you, and Winnie +would teach me steps, and it was down in the garden." + +The little girls looked up into his face searchingly. He walked on +laughing, and they went on homeward, to ask further advice. + +At home, too, everyone seemed to think it a matter for smiles, and +laughed at the two tender little consciences. + +So they both ran back after dinner to Mrs. Tennyson's. But on the way +Kathie said, "They let us, the minister and ev'ry body, but if it is +wicked _ever_, how isn't it wicked _now_?" + +"I s'pose 'cause we're children," Lu said wisely. + +The logical trouble thus laid, they tripped on. + +They were dressed in sweet pink, and their sun-bonnets were as fresh and +crisp as only the sun-bonnets of dear little country school-girls ever +can be. It was a most merry summer day; all nature moving gladsomely to +the full music of life. The leaves were fluttering to each other, the +grasses sweeping up and down, the bobolinks hopping by the meadow path. + +Their friend Winnie came out to meet them, looking rather astonished. + +"We're going to learn," shouted Lu, "get on your bonnet." + +"But you wasn't good to me to-day," said Winnie, thoughtfully. + +"We didn't da'st to be," said Kathie, "till we'd asked somebody that +knew." + +Mrs. Tennyson was half of the mind to call her little daughter in; yet +she felt it a pity to be less sweet and forgiving than the child. + +Winnie already had her class before her. "Now you must do just as I do. +You must hold your dress back so,--not grab it, but hold it back nice, +and you must bend forward so, and you must point your slippers so,--not +stand flat." + +Very graceful the little dancing-teacher looked, tip-toeing here, +gliding there, twinkling through a series of pretty steps down the long +garden walk. + +But the pupils! Do the best she might, sturdy little Kathie couldn't +manage her dress. She grasped it tightly in either fat little fist. +"Mother Bunch!" Lu giggled behind her back. + +Kathie's face got very red over that. It was well enough to be +"Dumpling,"--everybody loves a dumpling; but "Mother Bunch!" So she +bounced and shuffled a little longer, and then she said she was going +home. + +But Miss Lu wasn't ready. She greatly liked the new fun, the hopping and +whirling to Winnie's steady "One, two, _three!_ One, two, _three!_" +There was a grown-up, affected smirk on her delicate little face, at +which Mrs. Tennyson laughed every time she looked out. I think Lu would +have hopped and minced up and down the walk until night, if Winnie's +mother hadn't told them it was time to go. + +"I don't like her old steps," said Kathie. They were sitting on a daisy +bank near Mr. Medway's. + +"Well, I do," said Lu. "And you would, too, if you wasn't so chunked. +You just bounced up and down." + +Kathie burst out crying. "I'll bet dancing steps _is_ wicked, for you +never was so mean before in your life, so! And you didn't dance near so +pretty as Winnie, and you needn't think you ever will, for you _never_ +will!" + +"Oh! I won't, won't I?" said Lu, teasingly. + +"No, you won't. I won't be wicked and say you are nice, for you're +horrid." + +"_You_'re wicked this minute, Kathie Dysart, for _you_'re mad." + +And as she laughed a naughty laugh, and as Kathie glared back at her, +then it was that that which happened began to happen. Lu's delicate, +rosy mouth commenced drawing up at the corners in an ugly fashion, and +her nose commenced drawing down, while her dimpled chin thrust itself +out in a taunting manner; but the horror of it was that she couldn't +straighten her lips, nor could she draw in her chin when she tried. + +"You _dis'gree'ble_ thing!" shrieked Kathie, looking at her and feeling +dreadfully, her eyebrows knotting up like two little squirming snakes. +"If I'm a Mother Bunch, you're a bean-pole, and you'll be an ugly old +witch some day, and you'll dry up and you'll blow away." + +By this time the two little pink starched sun-bonnets fairly stood on +end at each other. + +"Kathie Dysart, I'll tell your Sunday-school teacher, see if I don't." + +"Tell her what? you old, _old_, OLD thing!" + +[Illustration: "They grew older and uglier each moment."] + +Kathie Dysart loved her Sunday-school teacher, and now she _was_ in a +rage. She couldn't begin to scowl as fiercely as she felt; her cheeks +sunk in, her lips drew down, her nose grew sharp and long in the effort. +And, all at once, as the children say, her face "froze" so. Oh! it was +perfectly horrid, that which happened to the two little dears, it was +indeed. They could not possibly look away from each other, and they grew +older and uglier each moment! Why, their very sun-bonnets--those fresh +little pink sun-bonnets--shriveled into old women's caps, and even in +the hearts of the poor little old crones the hardening process was going +on, a fierce fire of hate scorching the last central drop of dew, until +nothing would ever, ever grow and bloom again. + +It was all over with Lu and Kathie forever and ever. + + + +All this was long ago, of course--indeed, it happened "once upon a +time." It would be difficult now to verify each point in the account. On +the contrary, I suppose it just possible that there may be a mistake as +to the transformation of the children's clothes--the change of the +sun-bonnets into caps, for instance. + +But, as a whole, I see no reason to doubt the story. Often, and quite +recently, too, I have seen little faces in danger of a similar +transformation. + +Where anger, envy, spite, and some others of the ill-tempers, gain +control of the nerves and muscles of the human countenance, they pull +and twitch and knot and tie these nerves and muscles, until it is almost +impossible to recognize the face. + +Sometimes this change has passed off in a minute; but at other times it +has lasted for hours, and there is _always_ danger that the face will +fail to recover its pleasantness wholly, that traces will remain, like +wrinkles in a ribbon that has been tied, and that, at last, the +transformation will be final and fatal, and the fair child become and +remain "a horrid old witch." + +Of one thing we all are certain--that the most gossiping and malicious +person now living was once a fair and innocent child; so who shall say +that this which I have related did _not_ happen to Lu and Kathie? + + + + +FLAXIE FRIZZLE. + + +Her name was Mary Gray, but they called her Flaxie Frizzle. She had +light curly hair, and a curly nose. That is, her nose curled up at the +end a wee bit, just enough to make it look cunning. + +What kind of a child was she? + +Well, I don't want to tell; but I suppose I shall have to. She wasn't +gentle and timid and sweet like you little darlings, oh, no! not like +you. And Mrs. Willard, who was there visiting from Boston, said she was +"dreadful." + +She was always talking at the table, for one thing. + +"Mamma," said she, one day, from her high chair, "your littlest one +doesn't like fish; what makes you cook him?" + +Mamma shook her head, but Flaxie wouldn't look at it. Mrs. Willard was +saying, "When we go to ride this afternoon we can stop at the +slate-quarry." + +_Who_ was going to ride? And would they take the "littlest one" too? +Flaxie meant to find out. + +[Illustration: Flaxie Frizzle.] + +"Do you love me, mamma?" said she, beating her mug against her red +waiter. + +"When you are a good girl, Flaxie." + +"Well, look right in my eyes, mamma. Don't you see I _are_ a good girl? +And _mayn't_ I go a-riding?" + +"Eat your dinner, Mary Gray, and don't talk." + +Her mother never called her Mary Gray except when she was troublesome. + +"I want to tell you sumpin, mamma," whispered she, bending forward and +almost scalding herself against the teapot, "I _won't_ talk; I won't +talk _a_ tall." + +But it was of no use. Mrs. Willard was not fond of little girls, and +Mrs. Gray would not take Flaxie; she must stay at home with her sister +Ninny. + +Now Ninny--or Julia--was almost ten years old, a dear, good, patient +little girl, who bore with Flaxie's naughtiness, and hardly ever +complained. But this afternoon, at four o'clock, her best friend, Eva +Snow, was coming, and Ninny did hope that by that time her mamma would +be at home again! + +Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Willard rode off in the carriage; and the moment they +were gone, Flaxie began to frisk like a wild creature. + +First she ran out to the gate, and screamed to a man going by,-- + +"How d'ye do, Mr. Man? You _mustn't_ smoke! My mamma don't like it!" + +"Oh, why _did_ you do that?" said Ninny, her face covered with blushes, +as she darted after Flaxie, and brought her into the house. + +"Well, then, show me your new picture-book, and I won't." + +As long as she was looking at pictures she was out of mischief, and +Ninny turned the leaves very patiently. + +But soon the cat came into the room with the new kitten in her mouth, +and then Flaxie screamed with terror. She thought the cat was eating it +up for a mouse; but instead of that she dropped it gently on the sofa, +purring, and looking at the two little girls as if to say,-- + +"Isn't it a nice baby?" + +Flaxie thought it was; you could see that by the way she kissed it. But +when she picked it up and marched about with it, the old cat mewed +fearfully. + +"Put it down," said Ninny. "Don't you see how bad you make its mother +feel?" + +"No. I's goin' to carry it over the bridge, and show it to my grandma; +she wants to see this kitty." + +Ninny looked troubled. She hardly dared say Flaxie must not go, for fear +that would make her want to go all the more. + +"What a funny spot kitty has on its face," said she, "white all over; +with a yellow star on its forehead." + +"Well," said Flaxie, "I'll wash it off." And away she flew to the +kitchen sink. + +"What are you up to now?" said Dora, the housemaid, who stood there with +her bonnet on. "You'll drown that poor little creetur, and squeeze it to +death too! Miss Ninny, why don't you attend to your little sister?" + +Dear Ninny! as if she were not doing her best! And here it was +half-past three, and Eva Snow coming at four! + +"O Dodo!" said she, "you're not going off?" + +"Only just round the corner, Miss Ninny. I'll be right back." + +But it was a pity she should go out at all. Mrs. Gray did not suppose +she would leave the house while she was gone. + +As soon as "Dodo" was out of sight, Flaxie thought she could have her +own way. + +"O Ninny! you're my darlin' sister," said she, with a very sweet smile. +"Will you lem me carry my kitty over to grandma's?" + +"Why, no indeed! You mustn't go 'way over the bridge." + +"Yes I mus'. 'Twon't hurt me _a_ tall!" + +"But I can't let you, Flaxie Frizzle; truly I can't; so don't ask me +again." + +Flaxie's lip curled as well as her nose. + +"Poh! I haven't got so good a sister as I fought I had. Laugh to me, +Ninny, and get me my pretty new hat, or I'll shut you up in the closet!" + +Ninny did laugh, it was so funny to hear that speck of a child talk of +punishing a big girl like her! + +"Will you lem me go?" repeated Flaxie. + +"No, indeed! What an idea!" + +"I've got fi-ive cents, Ninny. I'll buy you anyfing what you want? Now +lem me! 'Twon't hurt me _a_ tall!" + +Ninny shook her head, and kept shaking it; and Flaxie began to push her +toward the closet door. + +"_Will_ you get my hat, Ninny? 'Cause when I die 'n' go to hebben, then +you won't have no little sister." + +"No, I will not get your hat, miss, so there!" + +All this while Flaxie was pushing, and Ninny was shaking her head. The +closet-door stood open, and, before Ninny thought much about it, she was +inside. + +"There you is!" laughed the baby. + +Then rising on her "tippy-toes," Flaxie began to fumble with the key. +Ninny smiled to hear her breathe so hard, but never thought the wee, wee +fingers could do any harm. + +At last the key, after clicking for a good while, turned round in the +lock; yes, fairly turned. The door was fastened. + +"Let me out! out! out!" cried Ninny, pounding with both hands. + +Flaxie was perfectly delighted. She had not known till then that the +door was locked, and if Ninny had been quiet she would probably have +kept fumbling away till she opened it. But now she wouldn't so much as +touch the key, you may be sure. O, Flaxie Frizzle was a big rogue, as +big as she _could_ be, and be so little! There she stood, hopping up and +down, and laughing, with the blind kitty hugged close to her bosom. + +"Laugh to me, Ninny!" + +"What do I want to laugh for? Let me out, you naughty girl!" + +"Well, _you_ needn't laugh, but _I_ shall. Now I's goin' to grandma's, +and carry my white kitty." + +"No, no, you mustn't, you mustn't!" + +"_You_ can't help it! I _is_ a goin'!" + +"Flaxie! Flax-ee!" + +Oh! where was Eva Snow? Would she never come? There was a sliding-door +in the wall above the middle shelf, and Ninny climbed up and pushed it +back. It opened into the parlor-closet, where the china dishes stood. If +she could only crawl through that sliding door she might get out by way +of the parlor, if she _did_ break the dishes. + +But, oh dear! it wasn't half big enough. She could only put her head in, +and part of one shoulder. What should she do? + +It was of no use screaming to that witch of a Frizzle; but she did +scream. She threatened to "whip her," and "tie her," and "box her ears," +and "burn up her dollies." + +But Flaxie knew she wouldn't; so she calmly pulled off her boots and put +on her rubbers. + +Then Ninny coaxed. She promised candy and oranges and even wedding-cake, +for she forgot she hadn't a speck of wedding-cake in the world. + +But, while she was still screaming, Flaxie was out of sight and hearing. +She hadn't found her hat; but, with her new rubbers on her feet, and the +blind kitty still hugged to her bosom, she was "going to grandma's." She +ran with all her might; for what if somebody should catch her before she +got there! + +"The faster I hurry the quicker I can't go," said she, puffing for +breath. + +It was a beautiful day. The wind blew over the grass, and the grass +moved in green waves; Flaxie thought it was running away like herself. + +It was half a mile to the bridge. By the time she reached Mr. Pratt's +store, which was half way, she thought she would stop to rest. + +"'Cause he'll give me some candy," said she, and walked right into the +store, though it was half full of men,--oh fie! Flaxie Frizzle! + +Mr. Jones, a lame man, was sitting next the door, and she walked boldly +up to him. + +"Mr. _Lame_ Jones, does you want to see my kitty?" + +He laughed, and took it in his hands; and another man pinched its tail. +Flaxie screamed out: + +"You mustn't hold it by the handle, Mr. Man!" + +Then they all laughed more than ever, and clapped their hands; and Mr. +Jones said: + +"You're a cunning baby!" + +"Well," replied Flaxie, quickly, "what makes you have turn-about feet?" + +This wasn't a proper thing to say, and it made Mr. Jones look sober, for +he was sorry to have such feet. Mr. Pratt was afraid Flaxie would talk +more about them; so he frowned at her and said: + +"Good little girls don't run away bare-headed, Miss Frizzle! Is your +mamma at home?" + +"Guess I'll go now," said Flaxie; "some more folks will want to see my +kitty." + +Mr. Pratt's boy ran after her with a stick of candy, but could not catch +her. She called now at all the houses along the road, ringing the bells +so furiously that people rushed to the doors, afraid something dreadful +had happened. + +"I fought you'd want to see my kitty," said the runaway, holding up the +little blind bundle; and they always laughed then; how could they help +it? + +But somehow nobody thought of sending her home. + +When she reached the bridge she was hungry, and told the "bridge-man" +she was "fond of cookies." His wife gave her a caraway-cake shaped like +a leaf. + +"I'm fond o' that one," said she, with her mouth full. "Please give me +_two_ ones." + +Just fancy it! Begging food at people's houses! Yet her mamma _had_ +tried to teach her good manners, little as you may think it. + +"I don't believe she has had any supper. It must be she is running +away," said the bridge-man's wife, as Flaxie left her door. "I ought to +have stopped her; but somebody will, of course." + +But nobody did. People only laughed at her kitty, and then passed on. + +Soon the sun set, and the new moon shone white against the blue sky. +Flaxie had often seen the moon, but it looked larger and rounder than +this. What ailed it now? + +"Oh, I know," said she, "God has doubled it up." + +She had changed her mind, and did not want to go to her grandmother's. + +"Mr. Pratt fought I was bare-headed, and grandma'll fink I'm +bare-headed. Guess I won't go to g'andma's, kitty, I'll go to +preach-man's house; preach-man will want to see you." + +On she went till she came to the church. Then she sat down on the big +steps, dreadfully tired. + +"Oh, my yubbers ache so! Now go s'eep, Kitty; and when you want to wake +up, call me, and I'll wake you." + +This was the last Flaxie remembered. When the postmaster found her, she +was sitting up, fast asleep, with her little tow head against the door, +and the kitty in her arms. The kitty was still alive. + +Eva Snow had come and let Ninny out of the closet long ago; and lots of +people had been hunting ever since for Flaxie Frizzle. When the +postmaster and the minister brought her home between them, Mrs. Gray was +so very glad that she laughed and cried. Still she thought Flaxie ought +to be punished. + +"O mamma," said Miss Frizzle next morning, very much surprised to find +herself tied by the clothes-line to a knob in the bay-window. "The men +laughed to me, they did! Mr. Lame Jones, he said I was very cunning!" + +But for all that, her mamma did not untie her till afternoon; and then +Flaxie promised "honestly," not to run away again. + +Would you trust her? + + + + +FIVE POUNDS OF CINNAMON. + + +They don't name girls "Roxy," and "Polly," and "Patty," and "Sally," +nowadays; but when the little miss who is my heroine was a lady, those +short, funny old names were not at all old-fashioned. "Roxy," +especially, was considered a very sweet name indeed. All these new +names, "Eva," and "Ada," and "Sadie," and "Lillie," and the rest of the +fanciful "ies" were not in vogue. Then, if a romantic, highflown young +mamma wished to give her tiny girl-baby an unusually fine name, she +selected such as "Sophronia," "Matilda," "Lucretia," or "Ophelia." In +extreme cases, the baby could be called "Victoria Adelaide." + +In this instance baby's mother was a plain, quiet woman; and she +thought baby's grandmother's name was quite fine enough for baby; and so +baby was called "Roxy," and, when she was ten years old, you would have +thought little Roxy fully as old-fashioned as her name. + +_I think it is her clothes_ that makes her image look so funny as she +rises up before me. She herself had brown hair and eyes, and a good +country complexion of milk and roses--such a nice complexion, girls! You +see she had plenty of bread and milk to eat; and a big chamber, big as +the sitting-room down stairs, to sleep in--all windows--and her bed +stood, neat and cool, in the middle of the floor; and she had to walk +ever so far to get anywhere--it was a respectable little run even out to +the barn for the hens' eggs; and it was half a mile to her cousin +Hannah's, and it was three quarters to school, and just a mile to the +very nearest stick of candy or cluster of raisins. Nuts were a little +nearer; for Roxy's father had a noble butternut orchard, and it was as +much a part of the regular farm-work in the fall to gather the +"but'nuts" as it was to gather the apples. + +Don't you see, now, why she had such a nice complexion? But if you think +it don't quite account for such plump, rosy cheeks, why, then, she had +to chase ever so many ways for the strawberries. Not a strawberry was +raised in common folks' gardens in those days. They grew mostly in +farmers' meadows; and very angry those farmers used to be at such girls +as Roxy in "strawberry time"--"strawberry time" comes before "mowing," +you know--for how they did wallow and trample the grass! Besides, the +raspberries and blackberries, instead of being Doolittle Blackcaps, and +Kittatinnies, and tied up to nice stakes in civilized little +plantations, grew away off upon steep hill-sides, and in the edges of +woods, by old logs, and around stumps; and it took at least three girls, +and half a day, and a lunch-basket, and torn dresses, and such +clambering, and such fun, to get them! _Of course_ Roxy had red cheeks, +and a sweet breath, and plump, firm white flesh--_so_ white wherever it +wasn't browned by the sunshine. + +But otherwise she certainly was old-fashioned, almost quaint. Her hair +was braided tight in two long braids, crossed on her neck, and tied with +a bit of black thread; there was a pair of precious little blue ribbons +in the drawer for Sundays and high days. Roxy's mother would have been +awfully shocked at the wavy, flowing hair of you Wide Awake girls, I +assure you! + +And Roxy's dress. _You_ never saw a "tow and linen" dress, I dare say. +Roxy's dresses were all "home-made"--not merely cut and sewed at home; +but Roxy's father raised the flax in the field north of the house, and +Roxy's mother spun the flax and tow into thread upon funny little +wheels. Then she colored the thread, part of it indigo blue, and part of +"copperas color," and after that wove it into cloth--not just enough for +a dress, but enough for two dresses for Roxy, two for herself, and some +for the men folks' shirts, besides yards and yards of dreadfully coarse +cloth for "trousers;" and perhaps there was a fine white piece for +sheets and pillowcases. Bless me! how the farmers' wives did work eighty +years ago! + +And how that "blue and copperas check" did wear, and how it did shine +when it was freshly washed and ironed! Only it was made up so +ungracefully--just a plain, full skirt, plain, straight waist, and plain +straight sleeves. _You_ never saw a dress made so, because children's +clothes have been cut pretty and cunning for a great many years. Roxy's +dresses were short, and she wore straight, full "pantalets," that came +down to the tops of her shoes; for Mrs. Thomas Gildersleeve would have +thought it dreadful to allow her daughter to show the shape of her round +little legs, as all children do nowadays. + +To finish up, Roxy wore a "tie-apron." This was simply a straight +breadth of "store calico," gathered upon a band with long ends, and tied +round her waist. Very important a little girl felt when allowed to leave +off the high apron and don the "tie-apron." + +The first day she came to school with it on, her mates would stand one +side and look at her. "O, dear! you feel big--don't you?" they would say +to her. Maybe she would be obliged to "associate by herself" for a day +or so, until they became accustomed to the sight of the "tie-apron," or +until her own good nature got the better of their envy. + +A "slat sun-bonnet," made of calico and pasteboard, completed Roxy's +costume on the summer morning of an eventful day in her life. It was +drawn just as far on as could be. It hid her face completely. She was +pacing along slowly, head bent down, to school. It was only eight +o'clock. Why was Roxy so early? + +Well, this morning she preferred to be away from her mother. She was +"mad" at both her father and mother. "Stingy things!" she said, with a +great, angry sob. + +About that time of every year, June, the children were forbidden to go +indiscriminately any more to the "maple sugar tub." The sweet store +would begin to lessen alarmingly by that time, and the indulgent mother +would begin to economize. + +Every day since they "made sugar," Roxy had had the felicity of carrying +a great, brown, irregular, tempting chunk of maple sugar to school. She +had always divided with the girls generously. Her father did not often +give her pennies to buy cinnamon, candy, raisins, and cloves with; so +she used to "treat" with maple sugar in the summer, and with "but'nut +meats" in the winter, in return for the "store goodies" other girls had. + +For a week now she had been prohibited the sugar-tub. This morning she +had asked her father for sixpence, to buy cinnamon. She had been +refused. "Stingy things!" she sobbed. "They think a little girl can live +without money just as well as not. O, I am so ashamed! I'd like to see +how mother would like to be invited to tea by the neighbors, and never +ask any of them to _her_ house. I guess she'd feel mean! But they think +because I am a little girl, there's no need of _my_ being polite and +free-hearted! Polly Stedman has given me cinnamon three times, and I +_know_ the girls think I'm stingy! I'm _so_ ashamed!" And Roxy's red +cheeks and shining brown eyes brimmed up and overflowed with tears. + +Poor little Roxy! she herself had such a big sweet tooth! It was +absolutely impossible for her to refuse a piece of stick cinnamon or a +peppermint drop. Yesterday she had told the girls she should certainly +bring maple sugar to-day. She meant to, too, even if she "took" it. But +there her mother had stood at the broad shelf all the morning, making +pies and ginger snaps, and the sugar-tub set under the broad shelf. +There was no chance. She finally had asked her mother. + +"No, Roxy; the sugar will be gone in less than a month. You children eat +more sugar every year than I use in cooking. It's a wonder you have any +stomachs left." + +"I promised the girls some," pleaded Roxy. + +"Promised the girls! You've fed these girls ever since the sugar was +made. Off with you! What do you suppose your father'd say?" + +Roxy wouldn't have dared tell her father. He was a stirring, +hard-working man, that gave his family all the luxuries and comforts +that could be "raised" on the farm; but bought few, and growled over +what he did buy, and made no "store debts." It was high time, in fact, +that Roxy's indulgent mother should begin to husband the sugar. + +Roxy saw there would be no chance to "take" the sugar; so she had +mournfully started off. Is it strange that so generous a girl would have +stolen, if she could? Why, children, I have seen many a man do mean, +wrong, dishonest deeds, in order to be thought generous, and a "royal +good fellow," by his own particular friends; and Roxy would a thousand +times rather have "stolen" than to have faced her mates empty-handed +this morning. She walked on in sorrowful meditation. She thought once of +going back, to see if there were eggs at the barn--she might take them +down to the store, and get candy. But she remembered they were all +brought in last night, and it was too early for the hens to have laid +this morning. + +As she pondered ways and means in her little brain, a daring thought +struck her. That thought took away her breath. She turned white and +cold. Then she turned burning red all over. Her little feet shook under +her. But, my! What riches! What a supply to go to! How they would envy +her! + +"I don't care--so. They needn't be so stingy with me! And Mrs. Reub uses +so much such things I don't believe it will ever be noticed in the +'account'--and, any way, it'll be six months before he settles up. +Nobody will know it till then, and maybe--_maybe_ I shall be dead by +that time, or the world will burn up!" + +With these comforting reflections, Roxy straightened up her little +sun-bonneted head, doubled her little brown fists, and ran as hard as +she could--and Roxy could outrun most of the boys. On she ran, past the +school-house--it was not yet unlocked--right on down to the village. She +slacked up as she struck the sidewalks. She walked slower and slower, to +cool her bounding pulses and burning skin. + +Still her cheeks were like two blood-red roses as she walked into the +cool, dark, old stone store; but for some reason, mental, moral, or +physical, while her cheeks remained red, her little legs and arms grew +stone cold and stiff, and spots like blood came before her eyes, and a +great ringing filled her ears, as Mr. Hampshire, the merchant himself, +instead of his clerk, came to wait upon her. "And what will you have, +Miss Roxy--some peppermints?" + +"No, sir. If you please, Mrs. Reuben Markham wants two pounds of +raisins, and five pounds of cinnamon, and you are to charge it to Mr. +Markham." + +It was strange, but her voice never faltered after she got well begun. +However, for all that, Mr. Hampshire stared at her. "_Five pounds of +cinnamon_, did you say, sis?" + +"Yes, sir, if you please," answered Roxy, quietly, "and two pounds of +raisins." + +So Mr. Hampshire went back, and weighed out the cinnamon and raisins, +and gave them to her. She was a little startled at the mighty bundle +five pounds of stick cinnamon made; but she took them and went out, and +Mr. Hampshire went back and charged the things to Mr. Reuben Markham. + +Miss Roxy went speeding back to the school-house with her aromatic +bundle. Her face was fairly radiant. She had no idea five pounds of +cinnamon were so much. O, _such a lot_! She had made up her mind what to +do with it. She couldn't, of course, carry it home. She had no trunk +that would lock, or any place safe from her mother's eyes. But in the +grove, back of the school-house, there was a tree with a hollow in it. +By hard running she got there before any of the scholars came. She put +her fragrant packages in, first filling her pocket, and then stopped the +remaining space with a couple of innocent-looking stones. + +Such a happy day as it was! She found herself a perfect princess among +her mates. She "treated" them royally, I assure you. Everybody was so +obliging to her all day, and it was so nice to be able to make everybody +pleased and grateful! Both the day of judgment and the dying day were +put afar off--at least six months off. + +Meantime, during the forenoon, Mr. Hampshire kept referring to the idea +that any one could want _five pounds of cinnamon_ at one time. Still, +little Roxy was Mrs. Reub Markham's next neighbor, and it was +perfectly probable that she should send by her. + +Some time in the afternoon Mr. Reuben Markham came down to the store. He +was a wealthy man, jolly, but quick-tempered. Mr. Hampshire and he were +on excellent terms. "How are you, Markham? and what's your wife baking +to-day?" + +"My wife baking?" + +"Yes. I concluded you were going to have something extra spicy. Five +pounds of cinnamon look rather suspicious. Miss Janet's not going to +step off--is she." + +"I'm not in that young person's confidence. I should say not, however. +But what do you mean by your five pounds of cinnamon?" + +"Why, Mrs. Gildersleeve's little girl was in here this morning, and said +Mrs. Markham sent for five pounds of cinnamon and two of raisins." + +"Mrs. Gildersleeve's girl? I know Mrs. Markham never sent for no such +things. She knew I was coming down myself this afternoon." + +He followed Mr. Hampshire down the store to the desk. There it was in +the day-book:-- + + "Reub Markham, Dr., per Roxy Gildersleeve. + To 5 pounds cinnamon, 40c., $2 00 + " 2 " raisins (layer), 20c., 40 + +That Mr. Reub Markham swore, must also be set down against him. He drove +home in a red rage. Through the open school-house door, little Roxy +Gildersleeve saw him pass; but her merry young heart boded no ill. Her +mouth was tingling pungently with the fine cinnamon, and in her pocket +yet were eight moist, fat, sugary raisins, to be slipped in her mouth +one by one, four during the geography lesson, four during the spelling +lesson. + +As it happened, Mr. Gildersleeve was cultivating corn in a field that +fronted the highway. He and his wealthier neighbor were not on the best +of terms. A line fence and an unruly ox had made trouble. Mr. +Gildersleeve had sued Mr. Markham, and beat him; and Mr. Gildersleeve +didn't take any pains now to look up as he saw who was coming. + +But Mr. Markham drew up his horses. + +"Hello, Gildersleeve!" + +"Hello yourself, Mr. Markham!" + +"I say, what you sending your young uns down to the store after things, +and charging them to me for? Mighty creditable that, Tom Gildersleeve!" + +"Getting things and charging them to you!" Gildersleeve stopped his +horse. "What do you mean, Markham?" + +"You better go down and ask Hampshire. If you don't, you may get it +explained in a way you won't fancy!" + +He whipped up his horses and drove off, leaving Mr. Gildersleeve +standing there, gazing after him as if he had lost his senses. After a +moment he unhitched his horse from the cultivator, mounted him, and rode +off toward the village. + +School was out. Roxy had reached home. She was setting the table, and +whistling like a blackbird. Things had gone so happily at school! +Everything was so neat, and pleasant, and cosy at home! She saw her +father ride into the yard, and go to the barn. She whistled on. + +She sat in the big rocking-chair, stoning cherries, and smelling the +roses by the window, when he came into the kitchen. + +"Where's Roxy?" she heard him ask. + +"In the other room, I guess," said mother. + +He came in where she was. She looked up; and her little stained hands +fell back into the pan. She knew the day of judgment had come. O, she +wished it was that other day, the day of death, instead! Her mouth +dropped open, the room turned dark. + +Mr. Gildersleeve sank down on a chair. His child's face was too much for +him. He groaned aloud. "That one of _my_ children should ever be talked +about as a thief! What possessed you, Roxy?" + +Roxy sat before him, trembling. Not at the prospect of punishment. But +she saw her father's eyes filling up with tears. "Don't, father," she +said, hurriedly, trying not to cry. "I've only eaten a little, and I +will carry it all back. If you will pay for what is gone, I'll sell +berries or something, and pay you back the money. Mr. Hampshire is a +good man; he won't tell, father, if you ask him not." + +"You poor, ignorant child!" + +He got up and went out, shutting the door after him. Not one word of +punishment; but he left Roxy trembling with a strange terror. She shook +with a presentiment of some unendurable public disgrace. Setting down +the pan of cherries, she crept to the door. She heard her father's +voice, her mother's sharp exclamations. Then her father said, "To think +_our_ girl should sin in such a high-handed way! Mother, I'd rather laid +her in her grave any day! That hot-headed Markham will not rest until +he's published it from Dan to Beersheba. She's only a child, but this +thing will stick to her as long as she lives." + +Her mother sobbed. "Our poor Roxy! Tom, if the school children get hold +of it, she will never go another day. The child is so sensitive! I don't +know how to punish her as I ought. I can only think how to save her +from what is before her." + +O, how Roxy, standing at the key-hole, trembled to see her mother lean +her head on her father's shoulder and sob, and to see tears on her +father's cheeks! O, what a wicked, wicked girl! It _was_ thieving; in +some way it was even worse than that; as if she had committed a--a +forgery, maybe, Roxy thought. She was conscious she had done something +unusually daring and dreadful. + +She stole off up stairs, shut herself in, and cried as hard as she could +cry. Afterward her little brain began to busy itself in many directions. +She tried to fancy herself shamed and pointed at, afraid to go to +school, afraid to go down to the store, ashamed to go to the table, with +no right to laugh, and play, and stay around near her mother, never +again to dare ask her father to ride when he was going off with the +horses. + +So lonely and gloomy, she tried to think what it was possible to do. At +last, as in the morning, a daring thought occurred to her suddenly. She +made up her mind in just one minute to do it. + +When her mother called, she went down to supper at once. The boys were +gone. Nobody but she and father and mother; and the three had very red +eyes, and said nothing, but passed things to each other in a kind, +quiet way, that seemed to Roxy like folks after a funeral--perhaps it +did to the rest of them. Roxy was fanciful enough to think to herself, +"Yes, it is _my_ funeral. We have just buried my good name." + +Silently, one with a white face, the other with a red one, Roxy and her +mother did up the work. Then Roxy went up to her room again. She took a +sheet of foolscap, and made it into four sheets of note paper. She wrote +and printed something on each sheet, and folded all the sheets into +letters. Then she went down stairs. Two of the little letters she handed +to her mother. Then, bonnet in hand, she stole out the front door. At +the gate she looked down the road toward the village, up the road toward +Mr. Markham's. She started toward Mr. Markham's. She got over the road +marvelously; for the child was wild to get the thing over with. She was +going up the path to the house when she saw Mr. Markham hoeing in the +garden. She went to him, thrust a note into his hand, and was off like a +dart. + +It was a long, hard, lonely run down to the village. How lonely in the +grove at the hollow tree! How like a thief, with the bundles openly on +her arm! No little girl's pocket would hold them, nothing but a great +Judas-bag. She went straight to the stone store. It was just sunset. +How thankful she was to find nobody in the store but Mr. Hampshire +himself, reading the evening paper. He looked up, and recognized the red +little face. He glanced at the bundles as she threw them, with a letter, +down on the counter, and whisked out through the door. He called after +her, "Here, here, Roxy; here, my dear! Come back. I have some figs for +you!" + +But no Roxy came back. He heard her little heels clattering down the +sidewalk fast as they could go. So he got up and read the letter, for it +was directed to himself. + +Here are the four notes Roxy wrote:-- + + "Dear Father: I Will paye you every Cent if I Live. I shall always + be a Good Girl, and never hanker after Only what I have Got. Please + forgive Me, and Not Talk It Over with Mother. It will make her Sick. + Roxy." + + "Dear Mother: Please love me until I am Bad once More. If I ever, + Ever, should be Bad again, then you may give me Up. Don't get Sick. + Roxy." + + "Mr. MarkHam: I have been Very Wicked. I have made father and Mother + wretched. I am sorry. Please don't be Hard on Me, and Set every + body against me, because My Mother would settle right down and be + very Sick. I am only a Little girl, and a Big Man might let me go. I + have taken the Things back to the Store. Also father has Paid for + them. _You_ may Want something some day, and do Wrong to get it, and + Then you will know How good it is. R. Gildersleeve." + + "Mr. HamPshire: Please Not tell the folks that come into the Store + what I did. I want a Chance to be good. If you Ever hear of my + stealing again, Then you can tell, of course. R. Gildersleeve." + +And here is what they said:-- + +_Mr. Gildersleeve_ (crying). "Here, mother, put this away. Never speak +of it to her. Poor child, I _did_ mean to whip her!" + +_Mrs. Gildersleeve_ (crying). "Bless her heart, Tom, this is true +repentance! Our child will not soon forget this lesson. Let us be very +good to her." + +_Mr. Markham_ (laughing). "Young saucebox! But there's true grit for +you! Well, I don't think I shall stoop to injure a child. Let it go. I'm +quits with Tom now, and we'll begin again even." + +_Mr. Hampshire_ (laughing). "She's a nice little dot, after all. I +don't see what possessed her. I'd like to show this to Maria; guess I +won't, though, for it is partly _my_ business to keep the little name +white." + + + +And none of them ever told. When Roxy was an old woman, she related to +me the story herself. The name was kept white through life. Such a +scrupulous, kindly, charitable old lady! The only strange thing about +her was, that she never could eat anything flavored with cinnamon, or +which had raisins in it. + + + + +Transcriber's notes: Obvious spelling/typographical and punctuation +errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other +occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. + +scan 014 line 4: corrected closing double quote to single +scan 014 line 10: corrected "dooping" to "drooping" +scan 024 line -4: corrected "after wards" to "afterwards" +scan 032 Illustration caption: corrected closing single quote to double +scan 047 line -6: "said," inferred +scan 047 line -4: "untie" inferred +scan 047 line -3: "honestly," inferred + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land +and other Stories by Ellis Towne, Sophie May and Ella Farman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILL'S TRAVELS IN SANTA CLAUS LAND *** + +***** This file should be named 20112.txt or 20112.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/1/20112/ + +Produced by David Newman, David Wilson, Chuck Greif, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://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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